Best of 2017

“You know I wish it could be like this always,” he says in a whisper before kissing my hipbone. “I wish my life wasn’t fucked-up chaos.”

Boy, do I wish that too.

“You have me,” I tell him with a smile. My entire body is humming with energy. I want him, just like always. Even when he makes me hate him. I always want him.

His grey-colored eyes turn to hard steel, causing a shiver of anxiety to skitter up my spine. “Of course I have you. I’ll always have you.”

Not always.

Not when you take away my last breath.

That time is coming.

As if to read my thoughts, he roughly parts my knees. I’m naked and wet and my body accommodates his. Like always. He pushes his thickness inside of me while gripping my thighs. The cold steel in his eyes softens just a bit as he regards my quivering frame. I’m shaking with equal parts desire and fear. The concoction that only Vaughn Brecks can mix up.

His mouth meets mine and his powerful body rubs against me with every thrust. I’m powerless with this man. He’s the wicked storm, and I’m nothing but a piece of debris swept up in him. I float in his wake, following him along his path of destruction.

“Sweet Letty,” he murmurs against my mouth as his strong hand curls around the front of my throat. My heart rate quickens in my chest, but I don’t stop him. You don’t stop Vaughn. You simply let it happen. “You’re mine. Always mine. Nothing will ever change that.” His fingers dig into my pale flesh as he squeezes. My breath becomes lodged in my throat with nowhere to escape to. His soft lips hover over mine as he fucks me while squeezing the ever-loving hell out of my neck. Once upon a time, I fought him. And in those stories, I always lost. But when I don’t fight. When I give in to the darkness that swallows me whole. When I let Vaughn do whatever it is he wants to do. I’m free. My mind detaches from my body and drifts off to somewhere else. Someplace dark and warm. No confusing red. No color. Just muted grey and mine.

“Letty.”

When I come to, his grip is gone. His eyes flicker briefly with concern before he chases it away with satisfaction. He’s on his knees between my thighs and no longer inside me. Thick, warm cum coats my belly and runs down my side, wetting the bed below. I don’t remember him finishing. I certainly don’t remember coming.

“Get dressed, Letty Spaghetti,” he chirps, melting me with one of his charming grins. “We have errands to run.” My melting quickly turns cold. I’m frozen. Errands. Errands mean trouble. Errands mean pain.

“I’m not feeling so well,” I rasp out, my voice still hoarse from being choked unconscious.

His glare is severe as he tosses me a pink scrap of spandex material. “It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. Make yourself pretty. You’re looking like a strung-out whore.”

I wince at his words more than his tone. I look like a strung-out whore because he made me that way. If I were to look in the mirror right now, my pale, haunted face would stare back. My normally bright brown eyes would be dull from whatever pill he stuck on my tongue before he stripped me down earlier. Dark circles would ring my eyes from either lack of sleep or from one of Vaughn’s “lessons.” And my full lips would be chapped from overuse coupled with malnutrition.

I’ve spent eleven months with this man and I can’t seem to pull my head out of the red fog that follows him long enough to straighten out my life. Not that he’d let me go anyway.

His hand tangles in my hair, and I’m dragged out of the bed to my feet right in front of him. Even furious and impatient and on the border of psychotic rage, Vaughn is a glorious vision. He pins me in place with his piercing glare—a glare that promises pain and punishment and, one day, death.

“I love you,” he seethes. I believe him. I truly do. “But right now, you’re pissing me off.” His free hand grabs my bruised and bare ass hauling me against his erection. “We have shit to do, so stop dragging your feet.”

I try to nod at him, but his grip in my hair prevents me from doing so. A small yelp of surprise escapes me when he hauls me over to the end table beside the bed. He rummages around until he finds what he’s looking for. Little happy pill. I can’t help but smile.

“Good girl.” He grins back before shoving it into my mouth. I gag but swallow it down. Within minutes, I’m needy, and the dress he helps me put on is too much. Too clingy. Too scratchy. Too much. The urge to seek out pleasure consumes me. I claw at his chest and plead with him to fuck me again. His kiss is gentle but the way he cups me between my legs is not. “You’re going to get fucked,” he assures me with a cold growl. “I told you we had errands.”

I can’t find the sadness that usually plagues me. No tears well in my eyes. I’m not even upset as he guides me out of his shitty house to his suped-up sports car that doesn’t fit well in the ghetto neighborhood. It’s the kind of car that should get jacked or broken into, but nobody touches it. Nobody touches anything that belongs to Vaughn Brecks unless he says they can. Unless they pay him whatever his asking price is. Otherwise, they won’t live to see another day.

I’m blitzed out of my mind, squirming and begging the entire drive to wherever it is we’re going. He teases me with gentle caresses to my bare thigh and brief rubs against my clit where I’m naked under my dress. By the time we roll up to a high-end condo building, I’m dripping with need.

“You ready to make us some money, sweetheart?” he questions, his grip tightening around my thigh. I’ll be bruised, but right now it feels good. Any touch feels good.

“I thought I was yours only,” I pout through my haze.

His face becomes murderous. “Of course you fucking are. This is just business, baby. You belong to me. Not this rich fucker who wants to get his dick wet because his fat wife won’t put out.”

As terrible as they are, his words warm me. They warm me so much that I’m on fire by the time we enter the glitzy condo where the client awaits. Vaughn’s grip on my bicep is possessive, but he still hands me over to the man. Accepts a wad of bills and gives me a slight push toward the foreign man with the large stomach. I squint to try and figure out his nationality, but as soon as the door closes behind Vaughn, the man is on me. He paws at me like I’m the first Christmas present he’s ever received. And the shit Vaughn gave me has me buzzing with desire. I want to ride this ugly man with the black mustache and beady eyes. I want to grip his greasy hair and fuck him while I think of my boyfriend.

Vaughn’s steely grey eyes are at the forefront of my mind as the man manages to push my dress up my hips and bend me over his expensive dining room table. He fumbles with his pants. Then I hear the familiar tear of a condom. Always condoms. At least Vaughn looks out for me. And then the man’s thin penis is inside me. He’s taking what doesn’t belong to him, and I don’t care. I let him because he feels good. His reverent touches running up my back. The way his hairy balls slap against my pussy. Nearly inaudible grunts from an unfamiliar man.

I come.

I shudder in ecstasy while thinking of Vaughn.

I take the orgasm he wouldn’t let me have not an hour earlier.

God, how I love Vaughn.

The man behind me claws at my hips as he groans with his own release, causing slices of reality to bleed inside of me.

God, I have to get away from Vaughn.

CHAPTER FOUR

GRAYSON

I STARE at her as she touches herself between her legs. Her moans cause my cock to twitch in my slacks, but I ignore it for now. For now, I’m concerned about her. How careless was she to go off and get drunk with that asshole, Slante. Christ, he was seconds away from fucking her against the goddamned cab had I not intervened when I did. Violet was wasted. Poor woman slept the entire way to her place, mumbling from time to time unintelligibly. I’d had the cabbie take us to her apartment building where I proceeded to carry her up three flights of stairs because the shitty elevator was broken. When I’d seen she had three locks engaged, fury bubbled up inside me. She shouldn’t be living in a piece-of-sh

it building. Not with what I pay her. After breaking into her computer, I took it upon myself to look at her file in Clint’s cabinet. I’m the CEO after all, so her personal file is my business if I say it is.

Address.

Age.

Background.

I found everything I needed, including her salary. Her salary was enough to where she didn’t have to live in a shit hole like this. I’ll figure out this little mystery. Find out where her money is going. Until then, though, I simply stare at her.

Getting an unconscious woman undressed and under the covers is difficult, even for a fit and able man like myself. Her loose limbs and limp body made for a frustrating twenty minutes. Eventually, I got her naked.

I peel away the covers and take another peek before I go hunting. Her perky tits have the sexiest bitable nipples right in the center of each one. Just looking at them has me nearly coming in my slacks. I’m going to feast on them one day. Not today. One day. Her stomach is flat and her hipbones are showing. The woman could stand to eat a little more. I make a mental note to deal with that problem as well. Her pussy is shaved smooth. The urge to push my finger inside of her is overwhelming, but I fist my hand and ignore the urge.

I notice everything about her.

Her smooth brown hair fanned out on the cream-colored pillow underneath her head. Those fuckable lips of hers are parted as she sleeps. Long, dark lashes rest on her pink cheeks.

I want to shake her shoulders and yell at her. To wake her up and explain to her how stupid she’s been. A woman who looks like her doesn’t need to go off with men she barely knows late at night. Men like Sean Slante could take advantage of her.