Hunted (4 page)

He spun her around, his hands heavy on her shoulders, and stared down at her with a confidence she wanted to shake. “Now you’re going to use that gorgeous mouth to convince me that you’re already mine.”

The problem was Shara
wasn’t
his.

He’d entranced her and bound her, and she was excited by his game, but that wasn’t the same as him hunting and earning the right to possess her. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be his for more than a scene—or two—but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

Yet.

He waited, expecting that kiss.

And to be honest, she wanted it, too. Shara reached up to kiss him, knowing she had a surprise in store for Damon. She knew he liked control, but she liked to have her terms met. Being a submissive hadn’t been her fantasy.

Her lips barely touched his mouth before he took command, but she hadn’t expected otherwise. He locked his hands around her waist, hauling her against him so that her tormented nipples collided with his chest. He lifted her to her toes so she was almost dangling from his grip, his erection hard against her. All of him was hard, his thighs, his chest, his abs, and that nearly tempted Shara to comply. It was possibly the most awesome kiss Shara had ever had, and made her reconsider the merit of her plan.

No, everything was better if you had to wait for it.

There was nothing tentative about his kiss he bestowed upon her, and Shara knew she was being claimed by Damon.

If her luck held, she might be ravished by him.

But it would be on her terms.

And her schedule.

She was at a serious disadvantage, with her hands bound behind her back and wearing these heels, but Damon’s confidence convinced her to give him a run for his money.

Literally.

When he raised his head, his eyes were glittering and she could feel the heat emanating from him. There was a good bit of it emanating from her, too, and her puss was demanding satisfaction.

But Shara took a deliberate step back, enjoying the surprise that touched Damon’s expression.

He was in for another one.

She gathered her skirts up in her fists as he watched her warily.

“Catch me if you can,” she taunted, then ran. She smiled when she heard Damon give chase, and the other patrons in the bar shouted encouragement to him.

Her fantasy had already begun.

* * *

Steele was clutching at straws and he knew it.

He’d initially thought there might be something to the tip about The Phoenix club being involved in human trafficking. The owners of the club liked to bury their personal details below layers of shell companies and numbered corporations. That was always a trick that attracted his interest, because such people often had something to hide.

Usually something illegal.

That made them interesting to cops like Steele.

On the other hand, providing a haven for the kinds of sexual games played at The Phoenix and previously at The Plume wasn’t interesting to Steele, even if it was illegal in many places. Mutual consent lowered the stakes, and he’d seen immediately that the owners of this club were diligent about documenting consent.

He had played up his doubts to his superiors in order to have the opportunity to come inside the headquarters at Athena’s London home. It wasn’t a crime to be curious.

The problem was that he was intrigued by the house and the games, and enjoyed sex with Athena. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known—the heat, frequency and originality of their encounters made him want to stay as long as possible. He wanted to push the limits with her, to have her enslave him totally. Then he wanted to turn the tables and dominate her. Steele suspected that exploring every option, thoroughly, was the only way he’d get enough of Athena.

That was personal, though. Professionally, he hadn’t found a damn thing.

He knew in his gut he wouldn’t.

So, Steele needed an excuse—no, a plan—to present to his superior to extend his assignment. He scanned the display on his laptop and returned to the one item that offered any kind of promise.

The coffin would have to do.

It had been shipped to Windswept Island, and it had been sealed for transit. Steele knew who was supposed to be inside it and why. He’d seen the consent form from the individual. Maybe, just maybe, there had been a substitution. He owed it to the investigation to make sure.

It was less than a straw.

It was a long shot and a wild improbability.

But there was nothing else to pursue, and if he admitted to his superiors he had no leads or prospects, then his assignment to The Phoenix would end.

Steele wasn’t quite yet ready to leave.

Amy entered the administrative office, her eyes alight after her time on Windswept Island, and Steele nodded good morning.

That was when he realized all the pieces could come together. It was possible he could leave a little mole inside the club after he was gone. The one person whose loyalty was divided was also the one who might know more about the coffin’s contents.

Amy.

She was the one who had hacked The Plume’s computer systems before him. She was cute, passionate and smart. Steele smiled into his coffee. She had two days off, beginning the next morning, to make up for the weekend she’d worked at Windswept. Any discussion about private Phoenix business would have to be done off-site to ensure that Amy told him the truth.

What if he interrogated Amy in a way that ensured Athena’s anger?

What if Athena decided to punish him for stepping beyond the boundaries?

What if Steele made sure Athena found out? He felt his own body react to the notion of provoking Athena, never mind of their encounters being hotter than they already were. It would be a fitting way to end everything.

The only risk was that of his legitimate supervisor discovering what he’d done, but Steele could take care of that.

“Any plans for your days off?” he asked with apparent idleness. Amy turned to him with a smile, and Steele knew she’d tell him exactly what he wanted to know.

Now, and then later.

The strange thing wasn’t that he was breaking the rules—both of The Phoenix and of his real job—but that the chance of being caught was what made his plan so enticing.

Steele smiled at the realization he was learning more than he’d ever expected from the dominatrix Athena.

Chapter Two

Shara was even more gorgeous than Damon had expected. He liked that she’d cut her hair so short. He’d admired how feminine it looked when it was long and never would have suggested she change a thing. Now that it was done, though, he loved how she looked with shorter hair.

He’d been attracted to her at first glimpse, back at home, in the grocery store of all places. She was tall, but not as tall as him, slim with small pert breasts. Her chestnut hair had hung straight past her shoulders as she selected produce. He liked how she gave the task her complete attention, as if there was nothing more important in the world than picking the right mango. She’d been wearing a straight linen dress that managed to be both simple and elegant, and good leather sandals. She had luscious full lips and she had caught the bottom one in her teeth, a sight that made him hard fast.

He’d been lost with one glance. Feminine and elegant. Her trim figure spoke of a control he shared, the sheen and excellent cut of her hair showing an attention to detail he admired. She was the kind of woman he liked best.

He’d not exactly stalked her, but he sought glimpses of her over the following few months. Sometimes he’d gotten lucky in their comparatively small suburb. Sometimes he’d made his own luck. Every sighting of her only increased his desire, and made him want to meet her.

Damon knew it wasn’t healthy or right to force himself on a woman he’d never met before. He couldn’t find a way to meet her that didn’t seem contrived. He decided to play out his fantasy at The Phoenix, to take the edge of his need to possess Shara completely, then maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to actually meet her.

In a strange twist of fate he could never have anticipated, he’d been chosen to partake in her fantasy—which was pretty much the flip side of his. It was incredible. It was amazing.

It had to be kismet.

It had to be a sign this would be more than a casual encounter.

Damon didn’t want anything to go wrong. He couldn’t imagine letting chance determine his life or even coincidence. This was an opportunity and he would claim the prize. He didn’t want the other two guys to have even the most remote chance of success. He wanted to meet Shara first, set the tone, touch her in a way that made her remember him.

To yearn for him.

He’d been startled by the sight of her cropped hair, then aroused by it. It was practical for the hunt for her hair to be shorter, but more than that, he was struck by how well it suited her. Her hair curled a little in the shorter length, the boyish cut looking even more feminine than her long hair had. That she’d used a glossy red lipstick on her mouth had nearly sent him to the moon. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her mouth locked around him. He wanted to watch her bite her lip, moan, then beg for more.

It had almost been too easy the way she had capitulated to him in the bar. Maybe she liked the public seduction. It worked for Damon in a big way. But now she was running, even in those crazy sexy shoes, and the hunt was on.

She worked her hands free before she was out of the bar, and he saw the flash of the nipple clamps and leash being discarded. She was no fool—she threw them in three different directions, into the gardens on either side of the entrance to the bar. Damon hesitated only a moment before he decided to retrieve them.

They’d been expensive.

He wanted to use them again.

But by the time he’d found all three, there was no sign of Shara.

Her shoes were discarded on the path ahead, one on its side.

The moon had risen while they’d been in the bar, and the sky overhead was dark, flicked with stars. The gardens seemed still and secretive, filled with the bustling of small nocturnal creatures. Laughter from the main restaurant carried to his ears and he could hear the lap of the waves on the beach. The music in the bar was cranked up and people hooted as they danced.

Damon was utterly still, listening. He put the clamps and the leash into his pocket, but heard nothing. He eased down the path and picked up her shoes. The soles were still warm from her feet, the leather exuding the scent of her skin.

He buckled them together and hung them from his belt like a trophy. He followed the path to a fork, where he found the feather mask. He picked it up as well, then paused to consider. Both paths appeared to be empty, and neither showed any footprints. There was no sound of a woman fleeing.

Damon could smell Shara’s wet puss with the unguent rubbed into it, her hungry snatch prepared for him and him alone.

The left path went back to the main resort.

The right one led to the beach.

Damon breathed deeply, anticipated what Shara would do, and moved silently down the right path.

The key to a successful hunt was for the hunter to understand his prey.

* * *

The moon was riding high when Neil returned to The Phoenix resort.

He’d spent the day on the small island where the hunt would be conducted, secretly making his own preparations for the weekend. It was his own covert operation, designed to eliminate the competition. He’d rowed to the island before the dawn, savoring the exertion. It was far offshore from the resort and the currents were so strong the management clearly believed no one could swim the distance and no one would row it.

Neil would have done the swimming, if he hadn’t had gear to bring along. He would have liked to have physically triumphed over the current, but that pleasure would have to wait until the hunt was done.

He’d hidden his inflatable boat on the ocean side of the island, carrying it up the rocky shore to hide it in the undergrowth. He’d brought it with him secretly. He’d checked carefully for any sign he was being observed before taking the boat back to the water. He rowed to the resort without a light, wanting to be just another shadow in the darkness.

On the way, he congratulated himself with the execution of his preparations.

As he drew closer, Neil heard the music in the bars of the resort, and saw the lights in the various restaurants. He heard people laughing and talking, and spotted more than one couple on the moonlit beach. Neil had no use for such pleasures and timesinks.

Tonight, he would meditate.

He would sleep so he wouldn’t have to sleep all weekend.

He would prepare himself for the mission ahead.

It was the best way to ensure that he won.

* * *

“Shara!”

Shara was on the beach when she heard her name called.

It wasn’t Damon.

She froze, then turned cautiously. She’d pulled up the top of the dress but hadn’t been able to fish the drawstring through the neckline. Instead, she’d passed the two shoulder seams over her head, making the bodice crisscross. Fortunately the fabric was stretchy, but it had still drawn the waist higher. There was no way to keep her puss from being almost exposed, the slit ending just millimeters from her crotch. Maybe it was the exertion or maybe it the thrill of the hunt, but her labia were pulsing, hot and wet, her clit raging for satisfaction.