Black Listed (2 page)

Her mind was a jumbled mess.

Like she was prey caught in the sights of a hunter, she became entrapped in his eyes.

She couldn't breathe.

Couldn't speak.

Couldn't move.

“You know each other?” Rachel said, her brows wrinkled in confusion.

“You could say that,” Sawyer said slowly, still holding Lisa captive with his eyes. “She's my wife.”

“Lisa is the woman who conned you?” Logan asked incredulously.

Shame heated her cheeks, and she suppressed the threatening tears. Her friends would hate her when they discovered what she'd done. Not that she deserved any less.

And what did it matter? She was about to lose everything. She wouldn't be surprised if she was arrested at any moment.

Rachel took her hand, but she still couldn't look away from Sawyer. “I'm sure if she did, she had her reasons.”

Yes, she had her reasons. Dark, dangerous reasons that sometimes woke her out of her sleep in the form of violent nightmares.

And now with Sawyer's appearance, her nightmares were one step closer to becoming true.

Five Years Ago . . .

“M
ARRY
S
AWYER
H
AYES
, and you'll never have to pull another con again.”

More than a month after Annaliese's father had uttered those words, her body still trembled in both apprehension and excitement as she stood outside the front door of the nightclub. Tonight she'd finally make initial contact with the man who would change her life.

For years, she'd dreamed of having a normal existence. And now, it would become her reality. She could go to school. Make friends. Fall in love.

As long as she was able to get the country's youngest billionaire to marry her.

Without a pesky pre-nup.

No small task.

Once she divorced him, her share of the fortune would be worth more than she could spend in ten lifetimes, even after she handed the majority of the money over to her family. But she'd give every penny she had just to be free of her father.

He'd never required her to go as far as marrying a mark. But the more she learned about Sawyer Hayes, the more she realized why her father had determined she marry the man. With his high IQ and military experience, he wouldn't fall for her usual schemes. There was only one way a man like Sawyer Hayes would marry.

Love.

And that meant she would have to find her way into his heart. Nothing in the file her father had given her would help her figure out how to accomplish that.

So she'd followed him.

She thought back to the moment she first laid eyes on him. The man oozed masculinity with every step he took and every clench of his fist as he sparred in his gym against the owner, a man who had trained for twenty years. Sawyer met him blow for blow, punch for punch. Sweat had glistened on his bare chest, his nipples hard as if he knew she watched from a distance.

He hadn't known, of course. She blended into the woodwork. Just a plain Jane with large glasses and frumpy workout clothes. While his thighs had flexed and bulged, the muscles of his throat growing taut as though he had gotten stuck mid-swallow, she acknowledged that her mark could never fade into oblivion. Even though he'd once tried, he was back now, and that made him a target.

Her target.

Annaliese had never heard of BDSM before researching Sawyer. Sex was something she tried to avoid, and when she did it, she rarely enjoyed it. It was hard to find pleasure when you were running through who you were supposed to be and what you were supposed to do.

Orgasms required her mind to drift away, and for someone like her—a grifter—that meant losing control. Control was key to every good con, and after being in the business practically all twenty years of her life, she was as good as it got.

Once men and women trusted her, she'd turn on them and breach that trust. She didn't know how to live any other way. It was all she had ever known.

The problem with this particular mark was that he needed control. He lived for control like she lived for a con. In order to lure this man, she had to pretend to be a submissive. Give up control to him. And from everything she'd read about it, he would know if she didn't. At least, if he was a good Dominant. Aside from the con artists she called family, she didn't know anyone who could read others well enough to know if they were lying.

Hell, the people she'd been with hadn't even known she had faked her orgasms. Guys she understood, but women should know when another woman had a climax. The way the muscles tightened and shook before the spasms of release. But the women she'd slept with had been oblivious to anything other than their own pleasure.

Maybe that's what made it so easy to take their money and run.

If she didn't, she'd lose everyone who was left. Her mother was dead. Now she only had her father and her two brothers, Mitch and Asa. She feared if she didn't succeed with the con, they'd leave her behind and she'd never find them again. For someone who had shuttled from place to place her whole life without being allowed to make real friends or real connections, she couldn't risk losing her family. Even though aside from Asa, she didn't like them very much.

Not that it mattered. She didn't like herself much either.

When her father had told her she'd be going to some sex club in Arizona, she thought he'd lost his mind. But no, apparently sex clubs did exist outside of movies and books. So she'd read up on everything she could about domination and submission. Watched movies. Read a couple romance novels that made her wet and giggly at the same time. Saw images on the Internet that confused her, like the ones of people with bruises and red welts all over their bodies. Why did it both scare her and arouse her at the same time?

She'd studied what made a good submissive until she realized all the studying in the world wouldn't be enough. She needed to know what her limits were before she approached Sawyer.

She'd needed to experience it.

Mistress Kay had taught her about those things that couldn't be learned through books. For an exorbitant fee, the professional Dominatrix had not only dominated her, but for a month, had become her teacher, her psychologist, her priest, and her closest friend.

Surprisingly, that first week all they did was talk. She learned that BDSM wasn't about sex. It was a power exchange in which the relationship between Dom and sub was one of trust, and honesty and communication were paramount. For someone like Lisa, who had spent her entire life lying, both came difficult for her.

Because of Annaliese's past, her Domme had introduced impact play cautiously. To Annaliese's shock, she loved the pain brought by the blow of a flogger and the whack of a cane. Craved the feel of her Mistress's hand slapping her thigh or face. It didn't make sense to Annaliese. How could she enjoy being hit after suffering her father's abuse?

Mistress Kay had explained that when Annaliese submitted, she consented to the acts that resulted in pain, giving her a power she hadn't had with her father. Annaliese's masochistic tendencies had nothing to do with her abusive past.

By the end of the month, Annaliese had a much better understanding of both BDSM and her sexuality. But would it be enough to win Sawyer's trust and, eventually, his love?

Today she'd find out.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door to the club and went inside. Checking the room, she was surprised to find it looked like any other dive. A long bar spanned the back of the space, with a few middle-aged men sitting on bar stools and watching a basketball game on the television. The few tables sat unoccupied, half-drunk beers and wineglasses littering them. This didn't fit her idea of what a sex club would look like.

She casually glanced around the room again in an attempt to locate Sawyer, but she didn't see him. He'd walked in this place not ten minutes ago. Where had he gone? “You're new,” said a husky voice behind her, a voice she'd only heard from across the gym.

How had he gotten behind her without her knowing?

She turned around slowly, tilting her head up to get her first good look at Sawyer Hayes. Her heart increased its tempo, and a soft gasp spilled from her lips.

After studying his photographs and seeing him from a distance, she'd thought she would be immune to his sexiness, but seeing him up close was like going outside on a sunny day after being in the dark. With his shoulder-length blond hair and twinkling brown eyes, he radiated an overwhelming sensuality and masculinity that she'd never before encountered, causing her nipples to bead and her pussy to clench. “Yes. How could you tell?”

“Well, for one,” he said, stepping so close his chest brushed against her breasts, “I'm here enough, so I've met everyone already.”

She shuddered from the contact. “And two?”

“All the regulars know that the good room is downstairs. You did come here for the sex club, right?”

The basement. So that's where he'd disappeared to earlier. She gave him a smile. “You're right. I've never been here before, but that's why I'm here.”

“I've seen you before.” His brow furrowed, the lines of his forehead grooved deep in concentration. “You work out at my gym.”

She reared back. No one had ever recognized her before. How had he even known she was the same woman?

“I'm not sure. What gym do you go to?” she said, playing coy.

“You know exactly what gym, darlin'. You've been watching me, and now you just happened to show up here. I'm supposed to believe it's a coincidence?”

Shit. This was not going as planned. He didn't strike her as a man who would fall in love with a stalker. Improvising, she used a technique she'd learned long ago and forced herself to cry. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she brushed her face with the back of her hand. Hopefully, he wouldn't be able to resist a crying woman, and she could salvage the situation.

His arms circled around her waist, and he tugged her to his chest. “Shh. I'm flattered. Really. I just need you to tell me the truth.”

Warm in his embrace, she inhaled his clean scent. “When I saw you at the gym, I was drawn to you, and when I followed you here and realized you were a Dom, I understood why.” She peered up at him. “I'm a submissive. I don't have a lot of experience, but I trained under a professional Dominatrix. I know as the submissive I should wait for you to make the first move, but if you're willing, I'd like to do a scene with you tonight.”

She held her breath in anticipation as he leisurely perused her from top to bottom and back again. Would he accept, or had she been too forward? Had she blown it?

His lips quirked up in a devious grin as his hand settled on her breast. He brushed his fingers lazily back and forth over her nipple until she gasped with pleasure. “So tell me. What's your kink?”

Heat spread through her core. “Being bound. Flogged. Whipped. Paddled. Fucked.” She lowered her gaze demurely. “To name a few.”

He paused. “You like pain. I think I can help you with that.” He pinched her nipple. Hard. Harder. Harder. Until she cried out, and her cunt squeezed from the excitement. “And your limits?”

Her body buzzing from arousal, she blinked to clear her foggy head. When Mistress Kay had inflicted pain upon her, she'd enjoyed it, but this . . . this was bliss. As if she was drunk, she could barely think coherently. “No bodily fluids. No cutting. Nothing that would cause permanent damage like branding. No knives. No fire or electrical play.”

“Any triggers?”

She wanted to lie. After all, what was one more? But she couldn't. Not when it came to this. “No triggers that I know of, but I was physically abused by a relative.”

His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “Tell me the asshole went to jail.”

She swallowed over the lump that had formed in her throat. “No. He didn't.”

He held her tighter to him. “Well if I ever meet the son of a bitch, I'm going to introduce him to my fist and teach him a lesson he'll never forget.”

She expelled her breath in a giant
whoosh
. He was angry on her behalf. “You don't even know me.”

He pulled back and cradled her face in his hands. “You're right. I don't. But as long as we're being honest, I should tell you you're not the only one who felt a connection at the gym. I asked around after you, but no one knew who you were or how to find you. And now you're here. I might not know you yet, but something tells me I'm going to. However, first I need to know your name.”

She hesitated, a fake name on the tip of her tongue. But something stopped her. She wasn't sure why, but a vision of them in an alley, steam rising from the grates, her back pushed up against the brick wall of the club, flashed through her mind. “No names. I just want you to fuck me like I've never been fucked before. Do you think you can handle that?”

He gulped audibly. “Do you do this a lot? Anonymous sex?”

Laugher bubbled up in her throat, but she stopped it before it released. Nothing was anonymous in her world. She had files on every partner she'd ever had between her thighs. Names, dates, history. Hell, their favorite brand of ice cream.

But here, now, with Sawyer, the idea of pretending she had no clue that this man was worth billions made her heart race and her pussy wet. She was always pretending anyway. Why couldn't she pretend she was a normal girl looking for a man to screw her to an explosive climax before parting ways?

But according to her file on Sawyer, stranger sex wasn't something he did. Sure, he might whip a girl ten minutes after negotiating the scene, but he never fucked an anonymous woman. Would she miss her chance if she asked for what she wanted?

She toyed with the ends of her hair, forgetting momentarily that she had added extensions. Her dirty blonde hair careened down her back like a waterfall. Last week, it had been in a coal black bob.

“I've never had sex with someone I don't know,” she answered honestly.

Surprise registered in his eyes. “No names, then. For now.”

He scratched his head, his fingers messing up his blond locks, making him look even sexier than before. He reminded her of a pirate commanding his ship, the wind at the sails and a crew at his disposal.

As she stared at him, raking her eyes over the bulging biceps down to the hard length pressing against the front of his pants, she could almost imagine him in a billowy shirt and pantaloons, like on the cover of a romance novel. And she could wear one of those dresses that blew in the wind, passion in her eyes as he took what he wanted without permission.

Why was she having these thoughts? She didn't read historical romance novels. Hell, she didn't believe in romance or love.

Her hand seemed to have a will of its own as she clutched the fabric of his shirt in her palm. “Show me what it's like to be owned by you.”

He blinked, his chest rising and falling harshly. “We should probably go downstairs, but I don't think I can wait that long.”