She tried not to scream, not to beg. Her thighs clamped on his hand, holding him in place, his fingers inside her, his palm cupping her, rasping her clit.
“There, pretty girl.” That growly thing again.
She shuddered, pleasure swamping her as a whimper left her throat.
“Come for me now,” he purred. “All over my hand, Scheme. Come for me.”
Wicked, carnal, his fingers reached deeper inside her, finding a nerve ending she didn’t know she possessed, stroked, thrust and sent her senses careening.
She came with a cry. She never cried from something so tame as this. She cried in arousal when being spanked. She cried at the carnality of anal sex, but rarely, rarely in orgasm.
This one shook her. There was nothing forbidden in the act. Nothing to tempt the most depraved senses. But it rocked through her until she was gasping, whimpering, her nails biting into the arm crossed beneath her br**sts, holding her against him.
And she wanted more.
“Enough.” She was surprised when he allowed her to push away from him, his fingers sliding slowly from the clenching depths of her pu**y, stroking over her cl*t before he let her jerk his hand from her pants and stumble away.
“You need to leave. Now.” Her voice quavered. She could feel her nostrils flaring, the tight jerk of her lips as she fought to push back needs she had never known before.
Sex was a sport. A hobby. A manipulation. External pleasure was all she desired. A good hard orgasm was all she needed. She didn’t need this, this clawing desperation she could feel building inside her.
Then she shook, shuddered as he brought his still-damp fingers to his mouth and licked. His expression tightening, gold eyes gleaming with a brilliant, fierce hunger.
“You taste like sunshine,” he rasped, clearly enjoying the taste of her, relishing it. God, had any man ever done such a thing?
“It’s the soap,” she snarled. She had to fist her hands at her sides to keep from reaching for him. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t handle it. Not now.
His lips curled in satisfaction. “It’s sweet, hot pu**y. I want my lips there next, Scheme. I want to go down on you so bad my teeth ache.”
Her knees went weak.
“Stop that,” she hissed, hating the hunger on his face, the open, wicked gleam in his eyes. This wasn’t a game anymore. For the first time in her life something inside was responding, a part of herself she kept hidden, even from herself. “I want you to leave, Tanner.”
“It’s not going to happen, pretty girl.”
“Then I’ll call Security.” Yeah, right, she was going to let the tabloids have this one.
“No, you won’t.” He was openly, clearly laughing at her. “Daddy might not be pleased that you’re cavorting with Breeds, sweetheart.”
No shit. If her head weren’t already on the chopping block here, it would be then.
She had opened her lips to at least try to bluff her way out of this one, when a sharp knock sounded on the door. Her eyes widened as alarm skittered through her. Dammit.
Tanner winked. Grabbing his jacket from the couch, he pointed to the bathroom. There, he slipped inside, leaving the door carefully cracked as he pulled the silencer-equipped handgun from the inside pocket of the jacket.
He didn’t have a good feeling about this. He could feel something odd, smell it—cold, yet tinged with regret.
“Chaz.” There was a note of fear in her voice, almost undetectable except for the scent of it suddenly whipping in the air.
Scheme didn’t linger by the entry door. Tanner caught her scent moving closer, entering the bedroom. She was suddenly off balance, uncertain.
“What the hell do you want?” She questioned her visitor.
Anger and hurt mixed with the fear now.
The bedroom door closed softly.
“Chaz, this isn’t a good idea right now.”
Why did he have a feeling she wasn’t talking about sex?
“You took one chance too many, Scheme.” Chazzon St. Marks, an ex-lover and her father’s assassin for hire. Tanner knew his voice, his scent. He stiffened at the note of death in the other man’s voice. Hell no. This had nothing to do with sex. “Wasn’t the beating last month enough? Did you have to keep pushing our luck?”
“What are you talking about?” Cool, composed. Her voice was a direct contrast to the fear bleeding from her now.
“You’re busted,” Chaz said gently. Too gently. “Did you really think you would get away with this?”
Terror. She wasn’t just frightened now. She was terrified. Tanner could smell it, almost taste it.
“Excuse me?” Her tone was scathing. Oh yeah, she definitely lived up to her name.
“He didn’t even order you to be brought in for questioning,” Chaz sighed. “He doesn’t think you can be broken, Scheme. I had hoped he was wrong. I hoped that last beating you received from him would convince you to change this course you seem to be on.”
Ice built in Tanner’s veins.
“Nothing to say?” Chaz asked her then.
Tanner could feel the other man preparing to kill. He couldn’t smell a weapon, and that meant only thing. He intended to break her neck. That was St. Marks’ specialty.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” she bit out, obviously retreating from him. “And I wish you would leave.”
“You’ve hated him for eight years,” Chaz sighed then. “He was watching out for you, Scheme.”
“Shut up!” Agony resonated in her voice. “Just shut up.”
“You had no business getting pregnant. I didn’t want the brat, and your position didn’t afford you the luxury of unwed motherhood. Would you have really wanted him to have such a hold over both of us?”
“I won’t discuss this with you!” Ice dripped from her voice. “How are you going to kill me, Chaz? I don’t see a gun, or a knife.”
“I’m going to break your neck.” His voice was heavy with regret now. “It won’t hurt, Scheme. There’s no pain, no blood. You’ll be as beautiful in death as you are in life.”
Like hell! And Tanner would be damned if he would wait around to see if the bastard was going to change his mind.
He jerked the door open, seeing the pale shock in Scheme’s eyes as St. Marks turned. There was no time for a defense. The bullet struck right between the bastard’s eyes, dropping him to the floor as Tanner palmed the syringe he slid from his pants pocket.