Two Cuts Darker Read online

  All my aches and complaints were forgotten when he opened the bathroom door. He’d put on black jeans and the black leather jacket he’d picked up in Nassau. And a pair of black leather gloves.

  I’d never had a leather fetish before, but the black set off his dark curls and eyes to perfection. His sculpted chest gleamed beneath the leather, promising strength and violence. As he strode closer, the jacket shifted to let me feast my eyes on the silver stud piercing his nipple. The only thing he was missing was the studded motorcycle boots he’d worn the first night I dog-sat for him. I’d been so intrigued by his nice face and gentlemanly manners, mixed with his bad-boy persona. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I certainly never dreamed that he would be my Master. That I would love him more than life itself.

  He used his knuckles to tip my chin up, watching the way my eyes dilated at the stroke of leather on my skin. “Do you want me to propose before the spanking? Or after?”

  I could only blink at him a moment, honestly bewildered. He really was going to spank me? That was fine by me, but I’d never actually expected it of him. Not my fierce assassin Master. It seemed so...mundane.

  “After.”

  His mouth quirked in a quick little smile and he stepped back. “Lie on your stomach across the pillows.”

  He’d already stacked them near the foot of the bed, making it easy for me to get into the position he wanted. Ass high. Head low. I didn’t mind that at all. He stood at the edge of the bed and used the knife to cut off hanks of rope. Watching him saw through the cotton made me squirm a little, trying to find a bit of pillow I could rub against.

  He tied my wrists first, in the small of my back as I’d started. Having the rope helped me hold the position without making my shoulder ache quite as badly. Then he tied my elbows together, just tight enough to make me feel the strain. He also tied each calf and ankle to my thighs. I could at least open and close my thighs a little by wiggling my knees, but that was about it.

  Checking each knot again, he tested the ropes, making sure they weren’t too tight. Then he wrapped one around my waist, looping it down so that a length of rope ran between my legs. He snugged it up nice and tight against my clit, making me groan.

  “There’s my kitten. Are you ready to be spanked?”

  I loved all the little rituals a submissive usually gave her dominant, but I really didn’t like the ridiculous games I’d seen some couples play in punishment scenes. I didn’t want to count my swats or thank him for each one. I wanted him to fucking hurt me and then fuck me while he hurt me. But if he wanted me to thank him for each blow, then I’d do it. “Yes, Master.”

  “I don’t usually care for toys, but these gloves intrigued me. They satisfy both our kinks.”

  Pain and blood from gloves? Let alone blood? “How—”

  He swatted my butt lightly and a dozen little pinpricks made my eyes fly open with surprise. It didn’t hurt, exactly. But the sensation made my nerve endings shrill with intensity. He swatted my other cheek, and those tiny bites made me moan again. “What is that?”

  Leaning down over me, he held a glove in front of my face. Black leather on the back. But then he turned his palm up and I could see dozens of little tacks sticking through the leather. “Vampire gloves.” His other hand lightly stroked down my back, raking my skin in little furrows that made me shudder and shift against the ropes. Of course that set off the rope tight over my clit. Oh, God, agony. I could feel the rope getting wet from my arousal, gliding easier over my sensitized flesh.

  “I’m going to spank you until you cry, Ranay. I want to hear you sob and scream and beg me to stop. Do you understand? Don’t hold anything back.”

  I shivered, my heart pounding frantically. I could take a lot of pain. I could take a lot of arousal. I could even endure climax after climax if that’s what he wanted. But I didn’t really like sobbing to the point of begging him to stop. Pain sent me soaring. It didn’t usually send me to the dark place. But for him, I’d try. “Yes, Master.”

  “Good girl. Remember your safeword. I expect you to use it if the gloves are too much. These are new for both of us.”

  He gave me a few more light swats, spreading the stinging bites over both buttocks and down to the upper edge of my thigh. With my legs spread, he managed to sting the delicate skin of my inner thigh too. I could feel how wet it made me. So embarrassing. My cheeks heated and my eyes burned with tears of humiliation, which only turned me on more. Especially when I knew he could see how wet he made me. That was exactly why he’d tied me like this and put me on display. He wanted to see me writhe and cry and dampen my thighs with my desire.

  He increased the strength of each swat. Fire spread across my butt and I couldn’t hold still. I flopped against the ropes, even tried to close my thighs, but I couldn’t get enough leverage to move much at all, not with my ankles bent back and bound so tightly. Each little struggle only made the rope pull tighter, sliding deeper into my pussy.

  I let out a hiccuping cry and he paused. “Had enough?”

  “No, sir.” But my words were betrayed by the quiver in my voice.

  “You’re bleeding now,” he whispered. “Tiny little welts, pooling with blood. It’s so beautiful, kitten. You take my breath away.”

  His words did me in. There wasn’t any higher reward from my Master than his praise. I twisted harder against the ropes, even though it wrenched my desire higher. I couldn’t hold still. The muscles in my thighs twitched and I arched and rocked my pelvis, trying to find some relief. I needed to come. Badly. Then I could endure the pain. But together—

  Planting an elbow between my shoulder blades, he pinned my upper body in place, while still giving him plenty of room and access to my ass. He’d only been playing before, because now he walloped me with enough strength that I let out a high-pitched keen that hurt my own ears.

  How could a few simple tacks in a leather glove make me this crazy?

  The stings blazed across my skin. I could almost feel every single little tack, every hole it left. Tears leaked from my eyes and I bit my lip, trying to hold back my cries.

  He spanked me until my ass was so hot it probably glowed like a bonfire. Every stroke made me thrash and yes, I cried. I couldn’t believe it. I soared, but it was to a deeper, darker place where I usually didn’t go. A place where my chest heaved and my throat ached and everything I’d been holding tight inside me broke free and tore out of me. All my fear, that I wasn’t strong or brave enough to live with him. That he’d send me packing back to the States, condemning me to a life of mediocrity and boredom with my family, even though every time they looked at me all they saw was a freak. My soul-deep terror that he’d be killed. He’d just never come back one day and I’d never know what happened to him. All the horrors I’d heard and seen Vlasenko commit. His guards who’d almost raped Mads and me. Sheba tearing out a man’s throat.

  And then the ultimate fear that he’d be trapped, because of me, and even sent to prison when Matheson showed up.

  Everything swirled and crashed inside me, cracking into a million jagged pieces that felt as though they were cutting me up inside.

  But then he leaned down and licked my buttock, his tongue soothing over the stinging pain. My blood made him groan deep in his throat.

  The sobs tore out of me. I never wanted to lose him. Lose this. The way he gave me exactly what I needed, even if I had no idea that I’d needed a good, cleansing cry. He’d known. And he’d given it to me.

  He stripped the gloves off, dragged me closer to the edge of the bed and pushed the rope aside enough that his cock slid into me. So deep, so good. I could only gasp and try not to come immediately. His pants rubbed against my hamstrings and the leather of his jacket brushed across my back, adding to the sensation overload. From now on, I’d never be able to look at him in that leather jacket and not come. Smoothing his hands
over my buttocks, he spread blood across my skin, painting me with red, and his thrusts quickened. He’d liked the gloves as much as me. He gave a little tug on the rope that pressed against my clit, and suddenly I was falling, exploding, torn apart by the strength of my orgasm. He gripped my nape, shoving me down harder against the bed, and rode me harder. Driving so deeply I could feel him hitting inside me, a sharp, gasping pain that flung me higher. I screamed until I was hoarse.

  Each thud of his pelvis against my ass made pain flare through my sensitized skin. I wasn’t going to be able to take it.

  When he shoved deep, smashing me down on the bed beneath him, I could feel his entire body arch into his release. He shook against me, his body as utterly devastated as mine. He was so heavy I could barely breathe, but I didn’t want him to move. I never wanted to move again.

  He stretched out his hand, searching for the knife so he could cut me free, then he crawled up to lie beside me, still panting with exertion. “Maybe I should take up gardening after all.”

  I wanted to laugh, but my body didn’t have enough energy. I could muster only a half smile that seemed to suck up my last bit of reserves. He shifted a moment, digging in the pants he still wore, and then he held a box in front of me.

  A small black velvet ring box.

  “I know I’m supposed to get down on one knee, but honestly, I don’t think I could move right now even if Vlasenko showed up with a half dozen of his guards aiming their guns at our heads.”

  My vision swam with tears so badly I couldn’t focus on his face. “Yes.”

  “You haven’t even seen the ring yet.”

  “I don’t care. You can give me a ring you got at one of those little tourist shops of cheap trinkets, and my answer would still be yes.”

  He wiggled closer, his lips so close to mine that his breath fluttered across my cheek. “I love you.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and smiled through my tears. “I love you more.”

  He opened the box out of my sight. I didn’t turn to see. I was too busy staring into his eyes, sinking into his love. It felt incredible. To be so cherished. To have all my needs satisfied. Even when they were painful ones. Ugly ones that used to shame me. Now, I could feel only love sweeping all those dark feelings away.

  He slipped the ring on my finger and then pressed a kiss into my palm. “Will you marry me, kitten?”

  “Yes, Master.” I was so happy I couldn’t stop smiling, even though my ass burned like he’d poured liquid wax all over me. “Charles Gyres, Charlie MacNiall, whatever name you use.”

  He kissed each knuckle, cradling my hand in his. “Actually, I think you can stop at Gyres. I hear he’s not a wanted man any longer.”

  “You’re going to accept the job with Matheson?”

  “It feels right. I reserve the right to go after another serial killer, but for now, she has good work for us. She needs us both.”

  “You and Vincent?”

  “No,” he chided, leaning up to kiss my forehead. “You and me. She specifically wants you to sign on too.”

  Stunned, I couldn’t answer a moment. “Me?”

  “Yes, you, silly. I told you that you’re my relationship expert. My people person. I might see at a glance a man’s weapons, and make guesses as to how quickly he’ll reach for a gun, or if he’ll make a break and run. You see mannerisms that betray them. You can smell a lie a mile away. And you have the innate ability to understand motivations that drive people to do the horrible things they do. I’m going to use you shamelessly.”

  “Mmm.” I shifted closer so I could taste the soft skin of his throat. “Use me, Master. I have no shame.”

  He tucked me closer and my eyes started to drift shut. Sheba padded into the room, touched my arm with her muzzle, and then retreated to her favorite sunny spot by the window. “Will we have to give up your beach hideout? I rather like this place.”

  “Never. This will always be our secret paradise. If Matheson works us too hard, we’ll escape to our beach anytime we want.”

  I closed my eyes and his arms wrapped around me. No more life on the run, worrying that the FBI was hot on his trail. I could definitely get used to that. Though I didn’t let the decision go by without a little banter. “This life on the run with a killer as my fiancé has been a pretty sweet deal. I don’t know that I want to give it all up.”

  “If by sweet deal you mean getting held at gunpoint by the Russian mafia and almost sold into slavery God only knows where.”

  I could feel him glaring at me. I kept my eyes shut, but I couldn’t keep my lips from quirking. “We just got back from a fabulous Caribbean cruise! What more could I possibly want?”

  He rolled over and dragged me up on his chest, making sure to give my sore backside a good squeeze.

  My eyes flew open and I sucked in a hard breath.

  “Me. You want me.”

  Oh yes I did.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  El Paso, Texas

  Vincent

  Coming in for debriefing took way longer than Vincent would have liked. Two weeks later, he’d been prodded and examined from every angle and even his mind felt tender, as if they’d been able to poke his brain with steel instruments too. On the bright side, his shoulder was feeling much better, though his collarbone still throbbed if he moved his arm too much. They wanted to do a psych eval on him, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He wasn’t any more fucked-up than when he’d agreed to let himself be sent to a brutal Russian prison on the off-chance he’d get recruited by a bratva.

  Besides, if he didn’t see Mads soon, he’d probably start shooting everybody around him.

  It was easy to track her down to a small home in El Paso, Texas, close to the American Consulate General’s office. An unmarked car sat outside with two agents watching her house. Not that they could stop him. They didn’t even see him slip inside. He’d brought a bag of toys in case he had to disable a security alarm, but she’d made it easy for him. Even left a window unlatched. Her bedroom window, naturally. He could smell her on the pillows.

  Waiting in the dark, he tried to keep his mind empty. He came with no expectations. Maybe she’d fuck him one last time and then call the guys on the street to haul him off. Or maybe she’d shoot him on sight and was using the open window as a trap. He couldn’t assume anything else. She might be done with him since she’d gotten what she wanted. Vlasenko was dead, his business busted. What use did she have for a fucked-up assassin who couldn’t seem to keep his dick in his pants when it came to her?

  Finally, a car parked outside and then the motor turned off. Concentrating intently, he heard her say something to the agents in the car. Not her words, but her tone. She sounded friendly, happy. Her keys jingled as she unlocked the front door. Humming beneath her breath. She must have gone into the kitchen. He heard the fridge door open. The clink of glass. The pop of a wine bottle. Now she was fucking singing, her voice a rich rumbling alto that made him crazed. He wanted her lips on his while she sang, those words vibrating his spine. It was all he could do not to go to her. Seize her. Haul her up into his arms and swear he’d never leave again.

  But did she want that? Would she even be glad to see him again?

  Especially knowing what a relationship with a man like him would mean, and it wasn’t his job with the CIA that he was worried about.

  A faucet turned, shower spraying. Fuck. If he had to stand here in the dark and imagine her showering...

  Her phone rang. “Hey, Silva. What’s up?”

  She came toward the bedroom where Vincent waited, pressed against the wall. He didn’t go completely still—the unmoving, unnatural way he had of standing in plain sight that had helped earn him the name Ghost. He didn’t even hold his breath.

  “No, I agree. We probably won’t get much more out of Marko or hi
s mother. They’ve declined protective custody so there’s not much we can do but keep an eye on their operation.” She came inside the room, passing so close he could have reached out and stroked his fingers over her shoulder as she walked by. She went into the closet and then in a few moments, he heard a door click. She’d probably locked up her badge and gun. Good practice.

  “I swear, if they start trafficking women again, I’m going to wish Ranay hadn’t stopped Charlie from killing him. Yeah. Okay. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Walking back in, she laid the phone down on the nightstand. Without turning around, she whispered, “I can hear you breathing.”

  He didn’t move from his spot by the door close to the window. He’d know in a few seconds if she wanted him to scram or not. “You can’t smell me this time?”

  She turned on the bedside lamp and turned to face him, a smile curving her lips. God, she looked good. Wholesome. Strong. Her hair gleamed in the soft light, neatly pulled back at her nape with a clip. She wore black pants and a silky-looking simple blouse. The typical garb women were required to wear at the stuffy offices. Poor Silva probably had to wear a tie with a button-down collar.

  “You’re not bleeding this time. That’s good.”

  Was it? Because if he wasn’t bleeding...

  “Took you long enough to find me.”

  “Oh, I found you right away. I just couldn’t come until Langley was done with me.”

  She came a step closer, running her gaze over him as if checking for injuries anyway. “Sounds fun.”

  “About as fun as a proctology exam combined with a lobotomy.” He watched her, trying to read her cues. He didn’t know how to court or date or converse, unless discussing how to kill someone. He wasn’t a roses-and-candy kind of guy. Maybe he should remind her of that. “If you need Marko done—”

  She let out a little laugh, shaking her head. “No, tough guy, I don’t think you need to go ice Marko, but if I ever need to put out a hit on someone, I know who to call.”