Black Listed (16 page)

“Scare me? Why would he want to do that?” It didn't make sense to her.

She
was
scared.

But for
Sawyer
.

He grimaced, his face growing pinched, as if it hurt him to have to say these things to her. “To get closer to you. You're staying at his hotel, right?” At her nod, he continued. “I bet you wanted to stay somewhere else, but he insisted you stay with him. Am I right?” He shifted closer to her on the couch. “And then once you got there, he managed to charm you. Seduce you. Get you to rely on him and feel safe with him. And how do you know he didn't lie about the brakes and hit the tree on purpose to keep you thinking your life was in danger?” He set both his hands on her thighs, his thumbs brushing the inside of them. “I know it's been more than four years, Annie, but didn't all that ring any warning bells for you?”

A sinking sensation wreaked havoc on her empty belly. Isn't that what she'd originally thought at her condo? But she'd quickly dismissed the notion. “Yes, and I considered all that. You don't know Sawyer. I do. He's not like that. Besides, what would he have to gain from it?”

“Revenge. You fall back in love with him. Trust him. Tell him everything, including where that money you took from your joint account went and that there's a journal of all the cons our family has ever pulled. Then he goes straight to the Feds with it. Just like you feared.”

Refusing to even consider it, she shot up from the couch. Sawyer wouldn't manipulate her like that. Sure, she'd worried he'd go to the Feds, but not for revenge but to save her. “No. He wouldn't do that to me. He loves me.”

“You sure about that?”

She ignored the churning in her gut. “Yes. I am.”

“I hope you're right.” Her brother stood from the couch and gave her chin a little nudge. “Because if you're not, it's both our asses on the line.”

H
ANGING UP WITH
the cleaning service, Lisa removed the key to Sawyer's suite from her purse, energized despite the late hour.

She'd spent the entire day with her brother chatting, eating pineapple pizza, and hanging out together like they used to when they were younger. He hadn't brought up his theory about Sawyer again, and she'd been careful not to mention anything that would renew their conversation, including what she'd found in her office.

There were some things she and Asa would have to agree to disagree on, her husband being one of them. Maybe someday they'd learn to tolerate each other, but even if they didn't, she refused to allow their petty behavior to bother her.

When she left Asa's, she'd called Sawyer to let him know she was on her way home. He hadn't mentioned finding anything more about the hit man, and she hadn't had the lady balls to tell him he'd likely been barking up the wrong crazy tree. Chad Winters and his hired gun weren't responsible for terrorizing her. She'd save that conversation for tomorrow, because tonight he had something planned for them, and she didn't want to do a single thing to jeopardize it.

Standing outside the door to the suite, she moistened her lips with her tongue and brushed her fingers through her hair, preparing herself for him. Her nipples peaked, pressing against her blouse as she breathed heavily. Just the thought of what might be waiting for her sent arousal shooting through her body.

Inside, she was surprised to discover the suite was pitch black, not even a sliver of light to help her find the switch that would turn on the lamps. The door shut behind her, the sound of it loud in the otherwise silent room.

“Sawyer?” she called out. Her pulse slammed into overdrive as her neck prickled. She swore she felt someone else in the room, but if it was Sawyer, why wasn't he answering?

She reached out her hand to flick on the lights, when someone came from behind her and shoved her face-front against the door. She cried out as the strong body pressed tightly against hers, a telltale bulge digging into her lower back, right above the crack of her ass. Panic assaulted her, and she was gripped with fear that something had happened to Sawyer.

Only a second or two passed before the familiar scent of him reached her nose. And although her heart continued to hammer wildly, this time it was from arousal. They'd played this game only once before, when, wearing a ski mask, he'd snuck into their home, pretending to be a stranger. It was a dance that stayed firmly behind the line of consent, but at the same time gave them the fantasy that it was otherwise.

“Don't scream and I won't hurt you,” he said in a gritty voice, a tone that told her this scene turned him on as much as it did her. “Say your safe word and it all stops. Otherwise, I'm in control. You do as I say, you'll find it'll go much easier on you.”

He wanted her to fight. To make him force her to submit. It was a wicked game and one she couldn't wait to play.

“Please don't hurt me. I'll do anything you say.”

He flipped on the lights, his eyes stormy behind the mask he wore. He flipped her around and dragged a finger leisurely down her arm. “We're gonna have lots of fun tonight, aren't we?”

She nodded as if she was a good little girl who was going to let him have his way with her. The moment he took a step away from her, she shot off toward the guest bedroom, having no idea what she'd do when she got there but too excited to care. He chased her, his booming laugh bouncing on the walls as he dashed across the room in an effort to catch her.

She wanted it rough tonight, wanted him to stake his claim on her and tame her like a wild animal. It was a dark fantasy brought to life—with a set of parameters that would keep her safe.

Darting inside the bedroom, she slammed the door shut and turned the lock, trembling from the thrill and smiling to herself for getting away from him. By the time he figured out how to get inside, he'd be so angry he'd have to punish her severely for her actions. Her entire body quivered at the thought of all the ways he'd make it hurt.

“Hiding from someone?” asked a deep male voice from behind.

Her heart in her throat, she twirled around. Leaning against the wall as if he had every right to be there stood a man she knew immediately she'd never met before. Like Sawyer, he wore a black ski mask, but that's where the similarity ended. Dreadlocks poked out from the bottom of the mask, and on his shirt were the words
Byte me
.

She froze, unable to move or speak, her limbs weighted down by the heavy arousal coursing through her and her mouth dry as the Mohave Desert. The stranger stalked toward her with a predatory gleam in his brown eyes. “Cat got your tongue?” He chuckled as he reached behind her and unlocked the door. “I sure hope not, because you're going to need it tonight.”

The door opened wide to a looming Sawyer, whose copper eyes had deepened to the color of a sunset. Right now, her Master exuded danger and wicked intent.

He wasn't going to go easy on her.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

“Please,” she begged, the tremor in her voice as real as the man standing in front of her. “I'm sorry I ran. I promise, I'll do whatever you say as long as you don't hurt me.”

Sawyer took one threatening step forward and pulled off his mask. “Your promise is too late. You need to be punished.”

Sandwiched between the two men, she exhaled all the air in her lungs, their combined dominance making for a heady aphrodisiac. Sweat beaded on the nape of her neck as her body heated from the inside out.

Sawyer's hands slid into her hair and tilted her head back until it rested on the stranger. “My men have been instructed on everything they need to know. Nothing happens without my direction.”

His words assuaged her fear, assuring her Sawyer had informed them of her limits and her safe word.

Then it hit her.

Men? As in plural?

Her silent question was answered by the entrance of two more men. As a result, her panties dampened to a ridiculous proportion. Her desire for Sawyer to share her with others and to watch him with other women was a kink that had confused her in the past. In addition to his inclination toward dominance and sadism, his fetishes also included ménage and group sex. She'd thought the idea should repulse her, but instead, it had aroused her. She and Sawyer had discussed it at length before inviting a third person into their bed for the first time—a female Dominant he knew from the BDSM community.

And it hadn't been long before his kink had become her kink.

While Sawyer identified as 100 percent heterosexual, her sexual preferences had always been a bit more fluid. Sawyer had loved to explore this aspect of her, pushing her boundaries to their limits. No matter how many hands and mouths touched her, they were all an extension of her Master, and rather than the experience causing any jealousy among them, they'd become closer as lovers and partners. It was all a matter of communication and trust.

She didn't have a chance to examine the additional strangers before Sawyer grabbed her waist with both of his hands. The man behind her moved aside, giving Sawyer the ability to shove her toward the bed. As the back of her knees hit the mattress, he whirled her around and, with a hand on her spine, pushed her facedown on the bed.

He replaced the hand with his knee, pinning her to the mattress. “Oz. Get over here and pull down these pants of hers. It's time we taught her a lesson she'll never forget.”

She twisted her neck around to see the man with the dreads walk forward, a wicked grin visible even with the mask still on.

Oz.

The knowledge of who these men were popped into her head.

These must be his best friends—Oz, Hunter, and Rowan.

In one smooth motion, Oz yanked down her leggings and panties, baring her ass for all the men to see. A breeze that felt more like a warm breath wafted over her skin. Only a second later, a sharp sting on her right ass cheek drove her to her toes.

Son of a bitch. That
was
a warm breath. Oz had bitten her.

“Mm,” Oz said. “I couldn't stop myself from taking a taste of that luscious ass. Just look how easily she bruises.”

Sawyer tugged on her hair, jerking her head back. “Wait until we see it covered in red stripes. You got the crop, Rowan?”

“I do. Would you like to do the honors, or shall I get her warmed up for you?” Unlike the playful Oz, this man—Rowan—spoke in a clipped tone that conveyed his seriousness.

“You're the real sadist of the group,” Sawyer said, climbing on the bed. He straddled her waist and restrained her shoulders with his hands. “I think you should go first. After all, this is a punishment.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Rowan responded. He didn't give her time to prepare before the first
whack
landed on the same spot where Oz had bitten her, the sting painful but not unmanageable. “Hmm. I was going to warm her up, but I'm in the mood to watch her squirm. Let's watch the little masochist dance.”

Each blow stronger than the last,
whack
after
whack
lit up the nerves on her ass, a blazing heat spreading like wildfire across her sensitive skin. Tears pricked her eyes, the pain almost blistering as he made sure he didn't miss a single spot. She should've wanted to evade the stings, and yet she greeted every one of them with a subtle raise of her ass.

There was no escape from the onslaught.

Sawyer's weight on her body kept her from shifting, protecting her from harm if she made any sudden moves, the crop hitting a kidney a dangerous possibility.

There was no escape.

Not that she wanted to.

The arousal bloomed like a flower, colorful and vibrant. Her clitoris beat in sync with her heart, her body a live wire. She was sinking into a place she hadn't been in several years. A place where time had no meaning, love had no reason, and sex had no limits.

“I don't think the crop is much of a punishment for her,” came a voice that was somehow rumbly and smooth at the same time. It must have been Hunter. He was the only one whose voice she hadn't heard before.

“You think you can do better?” asked a voice she recognized as Rowan's.

“Hell, yeah,” said Hunter.

Sawyer lifted himself off her back. “Get her up, then. It's time to see how much she can take.”

A moment later, she was hefted to her feet. Her limbs were liquid, her head heavy. One of the men maneuvered her toward an open area of the room. After he removed her shirt and bra, leaving her completely naked, her arms were raised above her head. A rope tied around her wrists. Her legs spread. More rope around her ankles. The ropes tightened. Her body stretched.

Wielding a black flogger in his hand, Sawyer stood in front of her, looking every bit the dangerous intruder he pretended to be. Fisting her hair in his other hand, he tipped her head back. “She's floating.” He smiled, baring his teeth to her.

A sharp biting pain gripped her nipple. She cried out as her nipple began to throb. Then, before she could adjust, the same happened to her other nipple. Clamps. Sawyer had clamped her nipples, and if she had to guess, he'd used the clover ones that tightened when pulled.

“Let's take her higher, Oz.”

She jolted as the falls from Sawyer's flogger hit her breast, the jostling causing the clamp to tighten.

Sadist.

The next blow landed on the back of her thigh, the sting of it spreading straight to her pussy.

How the hell had Sawyer hit her there?

Her confusion lasted only a few seconds as she realized Oz also had a flogger.

They were tag teaming her.

The dual floggers rained stinging kisses upon her body, sweeping her consciousness away as she closed her eyes and succumbed to the painful paradise. She'd never cared much for the thudding floggers, with their impact more like a massage. She preferred the kind that stung and made her feel alive. Her skin felt as though she'd fallen asleep in the sun and had gotten a wicked sunburn. Her breasts ached. Her pussy throbbed.

And if someone didn't fuck her soon, she was going to scream.

The flogging stopped. Hands, cool and rough, caressed her blazing skin. So many hands. Squeezing. Pinching. Slapping. Up her thighs. Over her ass. Down her spine. Across her belly. Everywhere but where she needed them most.

She bowed her head, too into the sensations to care whose touch was where. It didn't matter anyway. They all belonged to Sawyer.

Agony, strong and swift, shot through her nipples as both the clamps were removed at once, allowing the blood to rush back into the pulsating buds. The pain hurtled her toward climax, and when two sets of lips descended onto her nipples, sucking them into hot mouths, she blasted apart, her pussy clenching and releasing over and over in pleasurable contractions.

A tongue slithered up her slit, lapping at her come. Another mouth nipped at her ass and then soothed with wicked licks. The cheeks were spread apart, and the tongue touched her
there
, the dark and forbidden spot that begged for more than a tongue. The mouth on her pussy moved higher, the coolness of a metal piercing joining the warm tongue in lavishing attention on her clitoris. She was sensitive from her recent orgasm, and the contact was too much for her to process. She tried to move away from it, but she was held hostage by rope and hands and mouths.

“Tastes good after she comes, doesn't she?” Sawyer asked, releasing one of her nipples to speak.

Approval in the form of a hum came from the one between her thighs, the vibration of it adding to the intense pleasure. She hurdled toward another climax, her legs shaking out of control, but before she could fall over the cliff, the men stopped, their hands and tongues disappearing from her body.

“No,” she whined, pulling at the ropes to free her hands so she could force them to finish the job. When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell on Sawyer's beautiful face and the desire etched all over it.