Collateral Damage (28 page)

Actually, the room was set up like an afterthought.

Guess the man of the house doesn't watch much TV.
I looked at Cyrus, sprawled out on the sofa, waiting for us.
Not sure I want to know why he is now.

He sat up and patted his thigh. "Come sit with me, Nicole. It just got to a good part."

I retreated a few steps. Couldn't help it. If I went to Cyrus, he would probably . . .

Vince put his hand on the small of my back and prodded me forward.

Right.
I glanced over my shoulder at him.
Got it. Fighting now wouldn't do any
good.

Vince's lips tightened into a tense smile.

Perched on Cyrus' knee, I watched the screen, confused. A knife flashed, and all I made out was the magnified image of fists, covered in blood, clenched around the handle. Then the camera scaled back, showing the whole scene. Vince holding a man while I hacked at him with a machete.

Pulling me closer, folding the flaps of my robe away from my thighs, Cyrus whispered in my ear. "I've watched this three times. You're sexy when you're ruthless."

I ground my teeth. "I was fighting for my life."

"No. You were fighting for his." His fingers found my slit, and he pushed them inside. "I paired you well. Do you have any idea how much people paid just to watch you two together out there? You've created a new market for me. I made enough money to live off for a lifetime just giving people access to this footage. The people hunting you never suspected a thing."

"How prolific of you."

"It's not nice of you to use words Vincent doesn't know, sweetie." Cyrus clucked his tongue. "The good stuff is coming up. How about you make it up to him by having him join us? It's rather awkward with him just standing there, don't you think?"

Vince turned his back on the TV as it showed us together, in his shelter. His jaw ticked, and shadows blackened his sole iris. He hadn't known Cyrus had planted cameras in there. Had desecrated his last sanctuary. He raked his hands into his hair and glared at the floor.

If I didn't do something, he would.

I felt Cyrus unzip his pants and spoke in a rush. "Vince, I need you. Please."

The muscles in Vince's arms tensed. "Nicole . . . ."

"You sure you don't need my help, Cyrus?"

I almost shot off Cyrus' lap as Darryl stepped into the living room behind Vince.

But Cyrus held me in place, shackling his hands around my wrists when I wouldn't stop trying to close the robe.

"I don't know—What do you say, Vincent? Do we need his help?" Cyrus kissed my shoulder and sighed. "I'm not interested in a struggling, screaming female tonight, but, if that's how it must be, I might as well give Darryl a treat. He's such a loyal servant."

"I'd be willing to trade a paycheck or two for that pussy, Cyrus." Darryl flashed his teeth in a smile. "Just looking at her, all scared and shit, has got me hard."

Please, Vince.
I let my eyes plead, left my mind wide open, and prayed he'd get the message.
We can't do anything about Cyrus. Don't make me take them both again. Please!

"I'll do it." Vince crossed the room to stand in front of me. His expression neutral, he held out his hand and said in a level tone. "Get up, pet. You don't need the robe."

Cyrus released my wrists, and my hands went automatically to the flaps of the robe. To hold them together. Not because I didn't want to obey Vince—I just couldn't seem to force myself to do it.

I had no problem getting up off Cyrus' lap though.

"Nicole." Vince's lips drew into a thin line. He nodded once and then looked over my shoulder at Cyrus. "May I have your belt?"

"Certainly," Cyrus said. "But you do know I have a collection of floggers, whips,
et cetera
. If that's how you want to play, I can accommodate you."

"I appreciate that, sire." Vince took the proffered belt and gave me a slight, approving turn of his lips as I quickly dropped the robe. "But she's come to associate the belt with punishment. I wouldn't want to confuse her."

"Don't talk about me as though I'm not here."
Will you shut up?
My eyes teared with frustration, but I couldn't stop myself. Not with Vince acting exactly as he had before. "I did what you asked. I—"

The back of Vince's hand cracked into my cheek. "You do not have permission to speak."

For a moment, all I saw was a white flash of pain. Then my vision cleared, and I caught the disappointment in Darryl's eyes. And, much as I hated being slapped around, I realized I'd needed it. Not in the battered-woman, "I got what I deserved"

way; I needed it because if Vince didn't prove he could put me in my place, Darryl would.

I pressed my lips together and bowed my head.

"That's a good girl," Cyrus said as he ran his hand over my ass. "Though I must say, her ass looked pretty with all those welts. Maybe next time . . . ."

I bit my tongue.

"You're both scheduled for the arena in an hour." Cyrus slid his hand between my thighs from behind. "I want to fuck her first."

Vince pressed against my front, one hand on the side of my throat to hold me still, the other joining Cyrus'. His touch brought forth the warmth and moisture lacking before. Two fingers dipped into me. I wasn't sure whose.

"She's ready," Vince said, lifelessly.

"I can feel that." Cyrus shifted behind me, but didn't stand. "So put her on me."

Shaking his head, Vince stepped back. "What?"

"You heard me. I want you to get her cunt on my dick. I don't want her to touch me. If she does I'll give her to Darryl. He's been dying to fist her, and I think he's earned the privilege."

Darryl held up his big fist and licked his lips.

Vince glared over at him, then took my hands and wrapped my arms around his neck. "Don't let go."

I nodded and held on tight as he spread my thighs and lowered me. He reached behind me, and I could feel him guiding Cyrus' cock to my pussy. His jaw worked as he eased me down. I wasn't wet enough. Cyrus' throbbing, solid length jammed at my entrance.

After bringing his hand up to spit in his palm, Vince stared into my eyes as he reached down again. He slicked up my folds and Cyrus' dick, slowly working me up and down on it until it was fully embedded.

Cyrus groaned. "Shit, she's tight. And you know how to jerk off a cock, Vincent.

I've always liked that about you."

Breathing in rapid pants, Vince pressed his forehead against mine and began to manipulate my clit. "You want me to fuck you hard with her, Cyrus? I know how much you like to pound pussy."

"Or ass." Cyrus barred his arms at either side of my waist and latched onto Vince's hips. "But I'm craving something different tonight. It's been a long time since we shared a nice, juicy cunt."

Vince's color dropped. "She's too tight."

"I can stretch her," Darryl said.

"We know you can." Cyrus said, dryly. "But I believe Vince will manage. Make her wet, boy. We don't want to damage her."

I recalled Lacy telling me about doing Cyrus and Vince together. And how much he'd hated it. I was pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy it either, but I wanted this over with. As quickly as possible. Which meant letting Vince know I'd be okay.

Unfortunately, I didn't have permission to speak. So I brought one hand down, into Vince's robe, and curved my hand around his soft dick. That he was soft made me feel better. None of this was turning him on.

"Nicole . . . ." Vince groaned as I tugged and stroked. He leaned down to kiss me, thrusting his hips forward, lengthening as he claimed my mouth. When he was fully erect, he dropped to his knees and tongued my clit, licking circles around the base of Cyrus' dick. Then he murmured, "Relax, baby," and pushed a finger up inside me.

Just feeling him made me wet. Wet enough for him to add a second finger. As he drove them in all the way the stretching sensation overwhelmed me. I threw my head back and gasped as climax teased.

He spread my moisture and lifted up to lean over me. Pushing the head of himself against me, he strained to get it inside.

I relaxed, sure I was ready. But then he got past my entrance and the rings of muscles within contracted. Painfully. I whimpered and tried to wrench away from them. Escape the tearing, the burning. But I was trapped, encased in muscle, impaled.

Stop!
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I looked up at Vince.
Please, stop!

"Fuck her with me, Vince." Cyrus latched onto my hips and picked me up, almost off them both. "I love the friction of your dick against mine, all wrapped up in hot, wet flesh."

Vince used his thumbs to dry my tears and whispered. "Butterfly."

Such a random word. I doubted Cyrus understood the meaning.

But I did. As Vince began to move, as Cyrus slammed up, I focused on the ribbons of pain binding my core until they changed into strands of pleasure. And the electric strands shot through me until my skin sizzled. I opened my mouth in a silent scream as my whole body became charged with ecstasy, an ecstasy that overcame conscious thought and let me absorb everything in a new way. The sawing of two dicks within at an erratic pace warped into deep vibrations.

Slick fluid spilled over the joining, and I convulsed as I came hard. My nails ripped into Vince's back, and he grunted, thrust in, then dropped to his knees, spurting cum on my thighs and belly as he lost control.

Cyrus used my breast as an anchor to hold me in place as he forced himself in to the hilt. He groaned and shook as he came. "Jesus! I think I'm in love with this pussy."

I closed my eyes and drank in the relief of his dick growing slack and slipping out of me. When he shoved me off him, I fell into Vince, a little dazed. And feeling pretty loving myself. If Vince hadn't taught me how to deal with pain, this experience would have been a nightmare. Instead, it was an experience I'd survived. And, in a twisted way, enjoyed.

You do know you're pretty messed up if you enjoyed sex with Cyrus.

Maybe. But it wasn't the first time. Probably wouldn't be the last. All that mattered was getting through it without falling apart. Props to me. I was doing a pretty good job.

Vince pulled me into his arms and kissed me, repeating over and over again.

"That's my girl. You were perfect."

"That's enough of that." Cyrus unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and then used it to clean his dick. "I want you both ready—" He checked his watch. "In ten minutes.

Vince, your clothes are on your bed. Nicole, there's a dress for you in the downstairs bathroom. Can you manage to get there on your own or do you need Darryl to help you?"

I scowled at him. "I'll manage. Thanks."

As I pushed up to my feet, my legs quivered and pain ripped deep, almost toppling me.

Putting a supportive arm around my waist, Vince pulled me to his side and faced Cyrus. "If Darryl takes her, she'll be in no condition to put on a show. Let me take her."

"Do you really think she'll be up to a show either way?" Cyrus arched a brow, then shrugged when Vince didn't comment. "Go ahead. Take her."

"Thank you." Vince laced his fingers with mine and helped me to the door.

"Oh, and Vince."

Vince stopped and his grip on my hand tightened. "Yes?"

"You were great." Cyrus sighed. "Such a shame this is the last we'll ever be together."

Exactly what Vince had wanted, all those years ago, when he gave up his humanity to become someone Cyrus would respect. Only this time, it wasn't Cyrus'

word that would spare him. Cyrus didn't intend for him to leave the arena alive.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Darryl clipped an iron shackle around my ankle as I rested one hip on the gray marble floor and stared up at the crowd. Incredible, how many of
them
attended the show. Dressed as though attending the opera, they sipped champagne and stuffed their faces with hors d'oeuvres. Completely oblivious. This entertainment they'd purchased meant nothing to them. Lives could be bought. My value was equal with the bottles of expensive vintage, guzzled down, spilled. Wasted. To them, there was no mind and soul beyond the body displayed. There was only the show.

And there wasn't much of one yet. My entrance had caused a bit of a stir. High above the arena hung a screen that showed clips of me in the woods, cut and set to music like the trailer of some epic film. I could barely make it out from where I sat, but I could tell I was being portrayed as a wild thing. My demure entrance had disappointed them. Even my wardrobe contradicted expectations. The soft, white, cotton gypsy dress spilled all the way to the floor and bared only my shoulders. It made me look like some kind of virgin sacrifice. Fine, I'd been restrained like a dangerous animal to a short chain bolted into the floor, but it was obviously overkill. I heard grumbles in the crowd saying I couldn't possibly be
that
woman. They'd been tricked.

But then the scene changed, and the discontented hum dwindled. The women's eyes glistened with longing as Vince tended to me, as he made love to me. The men's eyes weighed down on me, assessing me as though to see whether I was worth the price Vince had paid.

Which explained the dress and the inspection Cyrus had given me before he'd sent me in here. He'd touched my cheek and whispered. "'Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilium?'"

Flattering, really, but I didn't think he was giving me a compliment. The quote was a clue if anything. And the props in the arena confirmed my suspicions. Two walls with faux stone fronts held medieval weapons. Swords, war axes, maces, flails, and spiked clubs. Other than those, there was only a padded bench too high for me to sit on, but close enough to be used to get me in the right position for . . . .

My core clenched miserably. If there was going to be a fight, I obviously wanted Vince to win. But I also hoped him winning meant no sex. I
really
needed a break.

Across from me, centered in the crowd, Cyrus reclined in a throne-like chair, smiling at those who approached. Lacy knelt on the floor beside him, naked, her ratty hair hiding her face. He patted her head now and then and leaned forward when a man showed interest.