Boss: Complete Box Set: A Mob BDSM Romance (5 page)

Or … maybe not. It’s crazy that the three of us have been thrown together like this, but Mr. Masters is the kind of man who would take advantage of that. He could have asked any woman to accompany him tonight, but he asked me.

He knew where we were going.

He knew who’d be here.

He did this on purpose.

Could he be using me as some sort of insurance or collateral with Georgios?

“The only reason I came tonight, Mr. Vargas, was to inform you that our business arrangement has met its expiration date.”

The other men in the group have quietly stepped back or excused themselves. I don’t blame them. I know what Georgios is capable of. I’ve seen him destroy men with his bare hands. Give him a weapon or even just a nod at one of his devoted men, and he’s a million times more dangerous.

I realize that Mr. Masters might not be aware that I mean nothing to Georgios. I was just a warm body able to repay a debt. If believes he can use me for some sort of leverage, he’s sadly mistaken.

“You say that with much passion.” Georgios waves a hand. “As if you really believe it.”

“We’re both businessmen, aren’t we? Sometimes we need to lay all the cards on the table to reach an understanding.”

Brent is so tense, I can feel his chaotic energy bouncing around us. Georgios smiles big, the expression highlighting the pock marks in his cheeks and plumping the already fat lines of his lips. I’m trying hard to hold back my nerves and the accompanying shakes but it’s becoming more difficult the longer I wonder what Mr. Master’s true intentions were for bringing me tonight. What if he throws me right back into Georgios’ arms? What if he isn’t holding me safe, but holding me captive?

Suddenly, Georgios looks at me, catching my eyes with a sharp, fast look that takes me off-guard. I tremble a little, trying to hold back the nausea rising in my throat as his expression turns predatory. My palms go slick. I can’t run; with my weak legs, I couldn’t even if I tried, but I want to. He’s looking at me like he owns me all over again—like he always has.

It hits me then. What if Georgios has been waiting to get his claws into me again? Panic climbs out of a slow burn and I feel faint.

“You’ve played a good hand, Mr. Masters.” Georgios’ eyes slowly rake over my chest in disapproval before turning back to my boss. “But you of all people should remember that the house always wins.”

I swallow past the lump of dread in my throat.

I’m still alive.

I’m never going to be free, am I?

He turns and walks off, leaving a stunned silence behind him. Everyone within earshot had been listening in. Brent slowly relaxes his arm around me. I don’t ask him … I don’t wait.

Without a word, I hurry out of the room.

I have to get out of there before I throw up on someone’s designer dress.

B
rent catches
up in the hallway. I knew he’d come after me, but I don’t care. I just have to get out of there.

I can’t go back to my old life and I’m sure as hell not going to invite it in. He can fuck right off; whatever game he’s got going isn’t one I’ll be a player in.

“Erica!” His hand finds my hip and his fingers dig into my skin. He tries to turn me, but I resist. His body heat washes over me. I swear I can feel his anger rolling over me like a storm, but I don’t care. This isn’t about him; it’s about me and my need for self-preservation.

This time, I don’t let my arousal cloud my thoughts.

This time, I am proud of myself.

“What were you thinking, walking off like that?” His voice hisses in my ear. “I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

Uncontrollable shaking ripples through me. Does this fucking man even understand? Furious at his high-handedness, I spin and brush his hand off me. “I can’t believe you brought me here. Do you know what Georgios is capable of?” My voice trembles in a whisper hiss. “Because I do. I’ve seen him peel the skin off a woman’s feet because she wouldn’t—”

Brent clamps a hand over my mouth and pulls me roughly to the side. My body draws up tight against his, the press of his shoulder against my back, his hip against the rise of my ass. Something soft touches my face and I realize he’s pulled me into the shadow of a coatrackdoorway of a coat closet. His grip is possessive, leaving me little room to fight.

But I do fight, squirming and twisting. The anxiety and panic rolls through my body like thunder.

His hand presses harder over my mouth, causing my head to lean back, baring my neck. A soft puff of his breath dances against my ear and I find myself relaxing against his grip. Submitting. Arousal flushes my skin and the lightning is in each movement that creates friction, sending little shocks of pleasure through me.

Fuck. I like this. A small moan rumbles in my throat.

“Quiet,” he growls. Just then a shadow approaches, Georgios’ form followed by two of his men. I go still.

“You know what to do,” I hear Georgios say, and suddenly I know why he’s holding me here. I’m the package now. I’m Brent’s delivery.

But then he pulls me deeper back, behind the coatrack, protecting me, hiding me until they’re gone. I’m sick at the near-miss. Sick at my thoughts. Sick that after all this time, that man still has the power to make me feel like a rabbit in a trap. Suddenly grateful that Brent had followed me, I melt completely against him. His arm slips around my middle, his fingers splaying across my ribs.

His breathing gets heavier. At first, I think I’m imagining it, but I feel the fast rise and fall of his chest against my back. Shifting my hips, I align my ass between his hips. Brent sucks in a breath as I settle against the hard ridge of his erection.

Holy shit. Sucking in a breath, I force myself to stay still, to
feel
… to see what happens next. His lips trail over the outside of my ear. My legs go weak at the unexpected contact and I put a hand against the wall to steady myself.

Slowly, his hand falls away from my mouth. “Those men would have eaten you alive.”

The silken whisper of his lips over my earlobe makes it almost impossible to respond.

I want
him
to eat me alive.

I close my eyes against the sensation and try and get myself together. Instead, his touch excites me even more, soaking my panties and spearing me with crazy need.

This is so wrong. He’s my boss, and worse, he has ties with the criminal underground. With Georgios. Who I need to let go, but not until I know.

“What’s your connection to him?” It’s daring—stupid, probably—to ask, but I don’t care. He got me into this, and now I want answers.

“You already know I’m not answering that.” His hips lean into me, a groan escaping his lips as his cock digs into me. His hand moves from my waist, up between my breasts until his fingers grace my bare skin to the base of my throat. “Maybe I should ask you about
your
connection to him. I know what he likes with his women.”

I know exactly what he’s implying and I hate it. His fingers slide around my throat but I don’t resist as they squeeze me there. It’s soft but firm. Almost like a promise and a threat. My life is
this
close to flashing before my eyes and yet I can barely hold still against the lust.

“Not like that,” I gasp out. “I was never. One of his.”

I did many things for that disgusting man, but sex wasn’t one of them. He always alluded that being on my back was going to be required of me—kept me guessing about when it was going to happen—but it never did. Thank God. Most girls weren’t so lucky. The luckiest ones of all got to walk away.

“But you did work for him.”

“Obviously.” I know he’ll punish me for my impertinence, I know this much about his dominating side, and I’m willing. He squeezes just an infinitesimal amount more and I rear back, regretting causing this, loving this, hating myself.

Brent’s hand slides away from my throat and skirts around my left breast. I arch a little, craving his touch on my breasts, wishing he’d slide his hand inside my dress and claim me.
God, I don’t want to need him like this.

It’s so wicked, and wrong and intense.

If nothing else was fucked up about this situation—he’s my
boss
.

Still bracing myself with one hand, I put the other behind me and palm the curve of his waist. In two swift moves, he has me against the wall, his hands on either side of my head. I barely catch my breath, trying to read his expression and failing. I don’t want to over think this. I just want.

“You’re pretty fucking stubborn, aren’t you?” He says, pressing into me. “So fucking sassy. You have no idea what I want to do to your sassy mouth.”

Christ, my boss is bossy.
I could come right now.

I wrap a hand around the back of his head and pull him down at the same time he leans into me. His arm knocks mine out of the way, behind me, pins me. I’m immobile, and I’ve never felt more alive.

Brent’s lips grind into mine. His tongue pushes into my mouth, sweeping mine as he kisses me with vicious ferocity. My head is swimming, my pussy on fire with need. Past the point of rational thought, I loop my leg around his and draw his pelvis against mine. Somehow, he doesn’t stop me, doesn’t try to make it happen on his terms.

Fuck, is he hard. I’m desperate to pop the buttons on his suit so I can feel the contours of his tight body. His cock jerks against my belly and I shift until the hard length rubs against my aching center.

Desperate to wrap my legs around him, I mumble something—pleading, begging—I don’t even know.

Brent leans back and spins me so my hands are on the wall, my ass jutted back into him. He’s going to take me from behind, right here in the coat closet. It’s risky and lascivious but I want it so bad. At this moment, on fire with want, even Georgios couldn’t stop me from claiming Brent Masters.

Or perhaps more likely, from being claimed myself.

His hands cup my breasts, kneading them hard and then soft, his thumbs sweeping over my nipples through the fabric. One moment I think they’ll bruise, the next he’s all fairy-wing-feathery.

And here I thought I hated surprises.

I hold back a cry at the burst of pleasure. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I should stop … give it more time. Maybe it’s the adrenaline and fear over seeing Georgios again. I don’t know. Whatever it is, something clicked off in my brain and I can’t stop.

I can’t stop this.

“You like this right here where anyone can walk in?” His voice goes low and rough, his hands streak down my waist, my hips and thighs. He pushes up my skirt as he slides his palms back up my legs.

I do. I love it, because I am a fucked up, dirty girl. I love it because it’s in my blood. I love it and I don’t fucking care why because I need it. Something is wrong with me. Something dark and naughty and wanting and delicious. And after the stress in my life, after the constant struggle, I’m going to take this pleasure.

He fucking fired me.

He made me face my greatest fear, that Grecian war-god Georgios.

I deserve this. I deserve to make his voice go lusty like that because he’s found my tight, pink pussy, not because I work for him but because I
worked
tonight not to lose my shit. It feels amazing. I won.

“I’m going to bare your ass for anyone to see. Do you hear me?” Cool air assaults my flesh as my skirt flips up over my back. His nails rake the insides of my thighs and I part them wide, so, so desperate for his touch. The shameful pleasure washes over me again, as if I’m an ocean of lust, and the idea of someone seeing us—me—makes me as wet as Lake St. Clair.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I understand.”

Brent leans over me, his cock resting against my thigh with frustrating proximity. Quickly, I reach between us and run my hands over his length. He’s thick and long, but I can’t reach it all. He inhales a sharp breath and shifts a bit so I can explore all of him.

“Holy shit.” He’s big, huge. Intimidating. And I can’t wait. I squeeze and rub him through his trousers. He drops soft moans in between kisses along my neck and shoulder. My entire body is on fire, buzzing with electricity. I forget where we are.

It’s just the two of us and the most exquisite sensations I’ve ever had.

“Fuck!” He grabs my hip roughly and pulls me back. “This isn’t how I do this … fuck.”

The waver in his voice displays his struggle for control. What if he let loose? Fucked me like he wants to, right here?

The thought makes me moan. Slowly, he slips his fingers under my panties and slides them up until he palms my pussy. A sharp cry escapes me.
It’s so perfect, God, it’s perfect.
But not nearly enough. As if he knows exactly what I want, he stills, his touch a combination of pleasure and frustration.

“Please, please, please,” I whisper, leaning into his hand. My clit is throbbing and if he doesn’t do something right the fuck now,
I’m
going to. “You’re making me crazy.”

His lips touch my ear. “This isn’t how I normally do things, but I think we both need this right now, so I’m going to let it slide.” His voice is so formal and clipped, such an opposition to his wild, lustful body.

I have no idea what he’s talking about. Nor do I care. I writhe against him, so needy.

“Please touch me.”

“Are you trying to tell me what to do, Ms. Lundgren?” Brent presses his fingertips over my clit and I slap a hand over my mouth to hold back my cry.

“I just … I just need it. I need you.”

His hand is in my hair, pulling my head back with a gentle tug. At the same time, he slips two fingers into me, pumping them hard, once, twice. I buck against him, drowning in the feeling.

“Are you trying to challenge my control?” He finger fucks me harder, curving his fingers so they thrust against a sensitive spot deep inside. My body starts to quiver, my stupid weakling legs, doing their wobbly dance again. Already, heat and pressure build as an orgasm whirls in time to his touch.

“I’m not.” I manage. I’m soaked; I can feel my arousal running down my thigh. His hand is slick with it, each movement making soft, erotic noises that drive me insane.

“Good. Good girl.”

A sharp tug on my earlobe as he bites me there, his lips quickly kissing the sting. I want to reach for his cock again, feel it in my hand as I deliver pleasure, but he’s leaning too far over me. He parts my pussy lips, his fingers finding my clit in a decadent series of fast strokes that plummet me into an orgasm so fast … God, so blinding, that I turn my head and bury my face in the crook of my arm.

He murmurs things in my ear but I can’t decipher them because I’m flying, I’m dying, I’m falling apart and coming back together.

My mind goes black and the next thing I know, I’m in his arms, clinging to him as I try and find my strength. Gripping his biceps, I look up into his eyes. His face is strained with unmet passion, yet his eyes are soft as if he’s very, very pleased with himself.

He should be. I know I’m very, very pleased with him.

He sets me carefully down and retrieves my clutch, which I didn’t remember dropping.

“Let’s go.” His voice turns dark and thick and a new flood of arousal starts in me. “We’re nowhere near finished.”