She was wearing a G-string. He snapped it with a brutal pull then kept her where she was as he reached for her cock on the nightstand.
“No!” she cried. “No! Please!”
He pulled her back by her hair and slammed her face first into the wall.
That quieted her.
Her head lolled in his grip and he pressed against her, kicking her legs wide. She wobbled on a high heel but with his hold on her, had nowhere to go.
“Please, you gotta do it, not dry,” she pleaded, her words slurring.
“My instructions were simple,” he stated dispassionately. “Elegant dress. No ass play. Did you heed either?”
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. It’s just that clients say that and I know what they’ll—”
“I’m not a client. If I pay for you, I own you for however long I’ve remunerated you for your time, and during that time, you do as I instruct. You did not do as I instructed.”
“I’m sorry. Really sorry. Really,” she said, weeping now, tears mingling with blood on her cheeks.
“I’m afraid that doesn’t help,” he replied, pulled her back and slammed her face into the wall again.
When he was done, he left her at his feet, her face already swelling.
He stared down at her and ordered, “Do not move. You leave it inside you until they take it from you. Have I been heard?”
“Y-yes,” she pushed out weakly.
He walked to the bathroom. Calmly washed her blood from his hands. Equally calmly, used one of her washcloths to clean his cum from his stomach.
He moved back into the room and tossed the wet cloth on the bed.
She lay where he left her, curled on her side.
The cold was gone.
He missed it.
But he knew it would come back.
Benito leisurely dressed.
Coming to stand close to her again, he adjusted the French cuffs under the sleeves of his suit jacket.
“Who will you be sharing this with?” he asked.
“N-nobody. Confidential. M-my services are c-confidential,” she stammered, eyes aimed at the wall.
“I hope so,” he muttered.
She trembled at his feet.
It was too bad he’d come as hard as he had and her face was that fucked up.
He found the trembling intriguing.
It was something he had a feeling he’d enjoy exploring.
Perhaps another time.
With someone else.
“One last thing,” he said. “Perhaps most important for you to learn,” he told her unemotionally. “I’m nobody’s pet.”
With that, he walked to the door, opened it and looked to his men who were standing outside.
“Clean the room,” he ordered. “Burn the sheets and what’s been left on the bed. Retrieve the toy from her. Clean it thoroughly. I wish to keep it.”
His men nodded then moved into the room.
Benito walked out.
He left the building, going directly to his waiting car.
He opened the door himself and slid in the back.
“Home,” he said after he shut the door.
His driver eased them onto the road.
He shifted in his seat, turning his head to look out the window, feeling his mouth soften and his cock get semi-hard at the reminder his movement gave him of that afternoon’s pleasant discovery.
He pulled back his cuff, saw the red marks on his wrist, righted his cuff and sat back on a sigh.
He’d have to find another one.
That was, until he could train Tallulah.
Red hair.
Blue eyes.
Tall.
Curvy.
He’d likely have to buy her the clothing he wished her to wear, but that was no matter. And he was further surprised he was looking forward to that possibility.
But no gags. He had a feeling he’d enjoy his own noises.
He was mildly intrigued, having the way Tallulah was with him, her confidence, her lack of fear, had opened this pleasurable avenue to explore.
He’d have to suggest a film of this nature to his director.
He extended his fingers and savored the ache in his knuckles.
All in all, a successful afternoon.
His phone vibrated against his chest.
He took it out, looked at the screen, and his mouth spread in a smile.
Unexpected.
All of it.
But yes, it seemed this was going to be a very successful afternoon.
He put the phone to his ear.
“Tack,” he greeted.
A rough voice sounded from his phone.
“We’re makin’ a meet.”
Again, Benito smiled.
Yes.
A very successful afternoon.
Clara and Rhodes
Rebel
“If this doesn’t work out with us, heads up, I’m going after the bearded one,” I teased Rush as I sat beside him in his truck on the way from Ride back to his place.
“That’s Joker and just sayin’, his wife, Carissa is gonna give birth to his kid any day now. He’s pretty much living for that day, though mostly he lives for her. He’s been in love with her since high school.”
Sweet, I thought.
“Ah,” I said then I kept it up. “Right, then the blond one.”
“Snap’s old lady is called Rosalie and she’s all sugar, no spice, but she’d still be all about the catfight, you looked at him in a way she didn’t like.”
I reckoned any old lady had a catfight in her in such an instance.
“Then the one who looks like a lunatic from an asylum where you’d definitely want to be an inmate so you could keep him company,” I said.
There was a smile in his voice when he replied, “Hound’s woman is also knocked up and she’s a biker babe to the core. She’d wipe the floor with you.”
Hmm.
“The one with the biker version of a Fu Manchu that’s only one shade down from scorching hot?” I tried.
“Property of Lanie. And she wouldn’t risk breaking a nail. But she would hire a hit on you.”
I turned to look at him. “Property of?”
“MC culture. Traditionally, that swings only one way. The way Chaos rolls, it swings both.”
I liked that.
“And don’t even think of High,” he added. “Millie’d drag you around the Compound by your hair.”
“Are they all taken?” I asked.
“Dutch or Jag might give you a go, but you’re probably too old for them.”
And the man turns my giving him shit back on me.
I looked forward. “Just thirty and already a cougar.”
Rush chuckled.
“You do know, it takes the fun out of busting your chops after you left me with your stepmom like you did when you don’t play along and get insanely jealous I find all your brothers hot.”
“You might want to be not so obvious you’re just busting my chops, then,” he replied.
I hmphed.
Loudly.
He reached out and took my hand.
He linked his fingers in mine, saying softly, “I fucked up, babe. A lot on my mind. I didn’t think. That wasn’t cool. For you or Tyra.”
I looked at him, relatively stunned.
The relatively part was that this was Rush. All the goodness I got from him was beginning not to be a surprise.
He was still a man, so him understanding what he did was not cool, copping to it and kind of apologizing for it, even if he didn’t use those exact words, was the part that was stunning.
“Now you’re screwing with my ability to remain marginally pissed at you by admitting you fucked up,” I shared.
He smiled at the windshield and moved my hand to rest on his thigh.
“It seemed okay,” he noted.
“We had a rocky start,” I told him, and his fingers in mine squeezed. “We smoothed it out. She’s nice.”
“She’s awesome.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, drew in breath and asked, “You guys get things in hand?”
“As best we can.”
I turned to look at him again. “Are you okay?”
He shrugged a shoulder and gave my fingers another squeeze. “As best I can be.”
“Let me guess, brother business is brother business. I quit Benito, I’m in the dark?”
He glanced at me before looking back at the road. “Yes and no. There’s shit you won’t know because it’s brother business. There’s other shit I’ll share.” He hesitated and announced, “At the end of the meet, I didn’t just call Tab like I told you about. I had to call my mom.”
Oh, he’d told me about dinner with his sister the next night.
But even with that scariness at hand, what he said grabbed all my attention.
So it was me squeezing his hand before I asked, “Why?”
“Women are getting dead, Rebel. She has ties to Chaos. They’re historical but all this shit is historical. Dad contacted her, offered Chaos protection. She didn’t take him up on that. So Dad asked me to follow up. I’m hoping she’ll call.”
She didn’t sound all that nice.
Harrietta dumped in the street, how something like that would affect Rush if it was his mother, I hoped she called too.
“Right, of course,” I murmured. “I . . . does she not know what’s happening?”
“It would not surprise me she’d be okay with getting dead just to make Dad feel like shit and fuck with Tabby’s head.”
All right then.
She really didn’t sound all that nice.
“Whoa,” I whispered.
“Yeah, she’s pretty stubborn and holds a mean grudge.”
I knew all about that kind of thing.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
He pressed my hand to his thigh. “It is what it is.”
“I’m still sorry.”
Another glance and a soft, “Thanks, baby.”
I shut up and looked forward.
“We’ll hit the market before we hit home,” he changed the subject. “Make a mental list of what you want in the house.”
“You want me to cook tonight?”
“If you want.”
I thought about making him dinner.