Wrong Series: Wrong Part 2

I feel a blush creep over my cheeks. I'm not a prude, but equally, I do not want to see two total strangers naked. This is so not what I pictured when Rich was dragging me down that hallway.

"Get out," the big guy snaps at the girl as he gathers her clothes. She huffs and takes the clothes from him. He smacks her a.r.s.e. "I'll finish with you later." I want to scream at her to f.u.c.king help me. I'm bound and gagged and yet she's glaring at me like I just interrupted her fun. News flash, sweetheart, I'd rather not be here.

"You know, your job really is a pain in the a.s.s," she remarks.

Am I the only person in this room who finds this hideously uncomfortable?

"Go to work, Crystal, I'd hate to fire my favorite girl for being late anyway." She shrugs and walks out of the room, completely naked, swaying her hips as she goes. I feel like I just walked into a madhouse.

"The kid couldn't pay. She's a deposit," Rich says casually.

"You took a person"-he points at me-"as collateral?" His voice is a low rumble. The room suddenly feels too small. I can feel his anger like a living thing. My skin breaks out in goose b.u.mps, and I tremble as a very real fear kicks in. "Get out! I'll deal with you later." His voice is calm, but not in a good way. More like the calm before a storm.

Wordlessly, he leaves, and the door clicks shut with a heavy finality.

I'm alone with this guy, the boss. This can't possibly bode well for me. I slowly lift my eyes to find him looking at me. Our eyes lock, and I feel like I'm staring into utter emptiness.

He's undeniably beautiful, his eyes the oddest shade of green, his face something you would see in the pages of a magazine. His body is bulky and cut, honed for a purpose. His skin is a map of ink work, winding down both arms and across his chest. He's the kind of guy you would stop in the street just to stare at, but would not want to meet in a dark alley. His beauty is overshadowed by a coldness that seeps from him, an air of danger that seems to cling to him. Everything about him screams dangerous. And I'm now bound and gagged, and locked in a room with him.

I pour the whiskey into a short gla.s.s, savoring the way the ice cracks under its heat. She's d.a.m.n near panting from what I just did to her. Using the back of my hand, I wipe the mess she left on my face, licking over my lips to enjoy the taste of her. This girl is one of my favorites. She gives me everything I crave: power, control, and f.u.c.king killer s.e.x with no strings attached. "Don't move a muscle. You stay just like I had you."

Plucking a cube from the drink, I dim the lights and make my way back to her. My d.i.c.k twitches as I stare at that curved a.s.s bent over my desk. I set the chilled gla.s.s on her lower back, and it bows. "Ah, ah, ah. I didn't tell you to f.u.c.king move."

She giggles and slings her head back; her red hair flies over her bare shoulders and hits my face. "I didn't ask." She glances over at me and bites down on her lip.

"That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble." I arch a brow, rubbing the ice over her a.s.s and up the indention of her spine as I say, "Move again and I'll choke you."

Her nails tap over the desk, scratching across its surface while she fights the urge to wiggle by pus.h.i.+ng her a.s.s against me. "Stop torturing me," she pleads.

"Honey, this isn't torture. Trust me!" I ma.s.sage the melted ice into her skin, then fist her hair. "Torture would be not letting you f.u.c.k me, and I promise, in about five minutes I'm going to be b.a.l.l.s deep in that pretty little p.u.s.s.y of yours." I tug on her hair, yanking her head back so I can kiss my way down to her shoulder.

She pushes off the desk and spins around, rubbing her hand over my jeans and clawing at me. I slowly pull my s.h.i.+rt off, holding it in my hand as I dig my fingers into her sides and twist her away from me. With one swift movement, I mercilessly slam her face down over the desk.

I stare at her a.s.s, thinking about how much I love the slapping sound it makes when I lay into a woman. "I'm f.u.c.king you from behind," I say, squeezing her firm cheeks in my palms. I loop the s.h.i.+rt around her throat, and tug her head back to me. Sweeping my fingers over her wet p.u.s.s.y, I give it a quick slap, and she jumps a little from that unexpected sensation.

"f.u.c.k, JP. I'm about to die here," she moans, grinding her bare p.u.s.s.y against me. "You've still got half your clothes on."

I laugh, and, keeping a good grip on my s.h.i.+rt, I use my free hand to unfasten my fly.

"Oh," she sighs. "Just f.u.c.k me, you a.s.shole." She attempts to turn around, but I hold her in place. "Would you please, for once, take the gun out of your jeans? It makes me nervous."

"Don't pretend you don't like it," I say, pulling my c.o.c.k out and stroking it, teasing against her entrance.

A groan bubbles up her throat. Frustrated, she slams her palm over the desk out of frustration. "f.u.c.k me, d.a.m.n it!"

"Oh, I'm gonna f.u.c.k you up," I growl as I widen my stance behind her.

I'm not gentle at all, I hold the s.h.i.+rt with one hand, and slam my d.i.c.k into her with the other. She moans loudly, her back arching from the sudden a.s.sault.

Her breaths morph into s.e.x-drunken moans, and she tightens around me, the sensation d.a.m.n near making my eyes roll back in my head, forcing me to grit my teeth. I'm about three seconds from losing my s.h.i.+t when the door is suddenly thrown wide open. I instinctively pull my gun, aiming into the hall. The safety clicks and my finger rests on the trigger. Staring down the barrel, I realize its Richard, and with him is a girl, bound and gagged, on her knees in front of my desk.

"Aw, f.u.c.k," he says, covering his face with his hands. I'm taken so off-guard by the unwelcomed intrusion that I briefly stand with my c.o.c.k still buried in the woman before pulling out.

"What. The. f.u.c.k?" I shout. I glance back down at the girl in front of Richard. "What the f.u.c.k?" I ask again as I shove my d.i.c.k back inside my jeans.

Crystal's still sprawled out on the desk, a.s.s in the air, and panting. I s.n.a.t.c.h the clothes from the floor and hand them to her. "Get out." She straightens up and takes her clothes from me, a bewildered look plastered to her face. I raise both brows, then smack her a.s.s. "Don't worry, I'll finish with you later."

"You know, your job really is a pain in the a.s.s."

"Go to work, Crystal, I'd hate to fire my favorite girl for being late anyway."

She huffs and stomps off, not bothering to dress. She just trots past them both, completely unfazed by any of this. My eyes dart to Richard as I pull in a breath. I wipe my hand over my sweaty chest, and my gaze drifts down to the girl. She's dressed in jeans and a Vanderbilt University hoodie. Her hair's a complete mess. She's covered in grease and dirt, and her eyes are swollen and red.

"The kid couldn't pay." He smiles nervously at me. "She's a deposit."

I roll my bottom lip underneath my teeth, and bit down, fighting to maintain my calm. "You took a person"-I point at the girl-"as collateral?"

My heart repeatedly slams against my chest, a tingly heat spreading across my body from anger. This motherf.u.c.ker is stupid as h.e.l.l. I really want to beat the s.h.i.+t out of him, ram his head against the wall a few good times, but I clear my throat instead, and point my finger at the door. "Get out! I'll deal with you later." I manage to keep my tone completely calm, which is, to anyone who knows me, worse than any shouting.

He doesn't say a word, he just turns, shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

I s.n.a.t.c.h my s.h.i.+rt from the floor and wipe the sweat from my body. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I inhale deeply before I turn around to look at her. Blonde mussed hair hangs over part of her face, she has a nasty black bruise on one cheek, and she's staring at the floor, visibly trembling.

I need a drink to handle this s.h.i.+t right here. I shake my head, scratch over my stubbled jaw, and reach for the whiskey. My eyes lock onto hers as I top off the drink. I take a sip, then set the gla.s.s on the edge of the desk. Her gaze follows my every move as I grab a cigarette, place it to my lips, and flick the lighter. I take a long drag and slowly blow the smoke in her direction, the light grey cloud blanketing her.

What the f.u.c.k am I gonna do with this girl?

She hasn't stood up. She hasn't moved a muscle. I lean against the desk, and take another drag, blowing a plume of smoke at her again. She coughs weakly. She's staring at me like I'm some f.u.c.king caged animal that's been let loose.

"Hmm," I mumble, balling up my s.h.i.+rt as I push off the desk and walk toward her. The closer I get to her, the bigger her eyes grow. I squat in front of her and pull in another puff. The gag is so tight the material's cutting into her skin. The least I could do is take it off. Gripping the cigarette between my lips, I reach around the back of her head and unfasten the knot. The cloth falls from her face, revealing a swollen and bloodied lip. He f.u.c.king hit her? I'm gonna kill him for this. I brush my finger over her wounded lip, and she jerks away.

"I demand that you let me go," she says, glaring at me.

I c.o.c.k a brow at her as a slight smile pulls at my lips. Feisty and British. I won't pretend the accent doesn't do something for me. I rise and turn my back to her. "I wish I could."

"This has nothing to do with me. Your stupid guy took me against my will. Your argument is with Euan, not me." She's trying her d.a.m.nedest to sound strong, but I can hear the slight tremor in her voice. Yeah, she's p.i.s.sed, but it's obvious that she's scared, and judging by the state of her face, she should be.

I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the edge of the desk as I take puff after puff, stewing over how f.u.c.ked up this s.h.i.+t is. After a brief moment of silence, I say, "But you're here, so unfortunately, doll, it now has everything to do with you."

She hangs her head, leaving it bowed as she lifts her gaze to mine. "Please." Her voice trembles. "This is a misunderstanding. Please, just let me go," she chokes.

A sensation I'm not all too familiar with creeps through me, but I swallow that uncomfortable feeling down. There is no room in my world for guilt.

"Now, as much as I'd like to just let you leave, you see, when Euan decided to hand you over to me, you became part of that debt. I'm sure you'll understand why I can't let you go, huh?" I shrug. "Don't take it personally or anything. It's just business."

I watch as the gravity of her situation sinks in. Her eyes slowly drop to the floor, and she pulls in a ragged breath like she's about to burst into sobs. "Please," she whispers again. She looks so small and vulnerable, it forces me to look away from her.

She may be just a girl, but she is in my house, and unfortunately for her and that dips.h.i.+t, Richard, she's now seen my face. She's a security risk at the very least. "You play nice, your boyfriend pays up, and I'll let you go unharmed."

Her gaze narrows. Those eyes of hers are so bloodshot, and all that does is make the deep blue of her irises pop. "Who are you?" she asks, hushed.

"A businessman." I shrug, then take her by the arm to help her up. I place her against the wall. "You gonna stay there, right?"

"It's not like I'm going anywhere," she mumbles.

I take my s.h.i.+rt from the desk and pull it over my head, then dig my cell from my pocket and dial Marney's number. As usual, he picks up on the first ring.

"Yeah?"

"That deal in Vanderbilt's f.u.c.ked up. I've got a d.a.m.n hostage now, and what the f.u.c.k am I supposed to do with that?" I groan, my eyes locked on hers.

"A hostage?"

"Yeah, a f.u.c.king girl!" Hearing it out loud sends me into a sudden fit of rage. "Someone's gonna f.u.c.king die!" I shout. I exhale in an effort to calm myself. "Call around and find out some more about this Euan kid for me. Tap his f.u.c.king line. I want to know everything about him down to what kind of lotion he uses when he jerks off, got it?"

"Yeah, sure thing," he chuckles. "So, what you gonna do with the girl?"

"I don't f.u.c.king know!"

"Well, have fun with that. I'll let you know what I find out." He hangs up the phone, and my eyes zero in on her swollen lip again.

I will f.u.c.k Richard up so bad for doing this. I take her by the shoulders and, without saying a word, turn her around, my gaze instantly falling to her bound wrists. The skin is red and raw, the flesh worn into the rope. b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I quickly untie the knot and notice just how deeply the burns have cut into her fair skin.

She wiggles her fingers, working to get feeling back into her hands. "Thanks," she mumbles.

I don't know what the f.u.c.k to do with her, but she's got to go somewhere besides here.

"Come on, then." I reach for her arm to escort her to another room, and the next thing I know, her knee is coming at my b.a.l.l.s. I jump back, bite down on my lip, and hiss in a breath. f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h! I catch both her arms in my hands, jerking her around as I pin them to her sides and slam her into the wall. She fights me, thras.h.i.+ng her entire body in a feeble attempt to get away.

Leaning into her, I place my nose inches from her ear. "Really?" I growl against her neck, as I press her against the wall. "Now, do you think that was a wise decision?"

"Let go of me!" she screams.

I force her harder into the wall. I'm using so much of my own body weight I doubt she can hardly breathe, much less move. "Not a chance," I say, and push into her more, my thighs now firm against her a.s.s. She gasps, and I keep my voice calm and low as I say, "I'm telling you, girl, it's best not to test me." She squirms and her body rubs over me in a way my c.o.c.k can't ignore. I back away an inch so she can't feel that I'm slightly aroused by her.

"Please just let me go," she begs. "You don't have to do this. I won't tell anyone. I won't call the police. I promise."

"I don't trust anyone, not even pretty little blondes. And you know what usually happens to people I don't trust that try to kick me in the b.a.l.l.s?" My hold on her tightens, and I yank down on her arms. "They end up in a f.u.c.king body bag."

She grunts and, without warning, drives an elbow into my stomach. To my surprise, she actually has some force behind it because it knocks the breath from me. That little stunt makes my hold on her let up, and she wiggles from my grasp, running for the door. I storm after her, my heart thras.h.i.+ng in my chest. When I catch up to her, I grab the ends of her long hair, yanking her head back so hard she stumbles and falls to the floor. I drag her back down the dark hallway, and she's pitching a fit. Screaming, yelling; she's clawing at my hands so hard that her nails are slicing through my knuckles.

"I'm gonna f.u.c.king kill Richard for this s.h.i.+t," I grumble. She lets out a scream so shrill I'm certain only dogs can hear it, and I cringe. "You can't just make things easy for me, can you?" I mumble as I plop down in the office chair and pull her onto my lap. "Had to go and make me act like an a.s.shole."

She's still fighting me, slapping me, wiggling around. I manage to yank the drawer open despite her bucking like a rabid mule, and I fish out a zip tie. "Would you just f.u.c.king be still?"

She screams again, then I grab her by the waist, and in one swift movement, I lay her face down across my lap, wrapping one leg over her thighs to hold her there. "I don't guess you're gonna put your hands behind your back without a struggle, huh?" I ask, my tone dripping with sarcasm. She grabs onto the edge of the chair. I guess she thinks that's going make it more difficult for me to get her hands? I just laugh and take both arms, bringing them behind her back. I fasten the restraint, then pat her on the back. "You gonna behave now? Not try to kick me in my b.a.l.l.s again, huh?"

"f.u.c.k you!" she shouts, still struggling underneath my leg.

I trail my eyes down from her hands to her a.s.s, and unfortunately, the way she's continuing to thrash around combined with the sight of her flipped over my lap and tied puts my d.i.c.k in a compromising position. I s.h.i.+ft my hips, adjusting the semi-hard on I can't seem to f.u.c.king get rid of, then I feel her teeth tear into the upper part of my thigh.

"You crazy...." I hiss at the throbbing pain and grab a fistful of her tangled blonde hair, jerking her head away from my leg. It shouldn't turn me on, but f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, I love a feisty girl. f.u.c.k, I'm sicker than I thought. I probably need to get the h.e.l.l away from her.

I rise and she falls from my lap to the floor. Before she has a chance to try and stand, I pick her up, and toss her onto the couch across from my desk.

"You really don't know when to just stop. f.u.c.k, I was being nice to you!" I say as I loom over her, wiping the sweat from my brow.

"Yes, I'll just lay down and let you kill me," she says with bitter sarcasm.

"Who the f.u.c.k said anything about killing you? Don't f.u.c.k with me, and you won't have to lay down and get killed. d.a.m.n!" I drag my hand down my face. This is such a f.u.c.king pain in the a.s.s. "Don't f.u.c.king move. I'm done playing with you. Just sit right there." I arch my brow as I point at her, and she looks away. I'm pretty sure she's afraid to move now.

I fall back in my chair and sit, staring at her and wondering how in the f.u.c.k this is ever going to go right.

"I had no idea he was mixed up in any of this s.h.i.+t." Her face crumples and her head falls back into the couch. "How could I not know?"

The longer I sit here and look at her, the harder that guilty feeling tries to bubble to the surface again. The professional in me knows what I should do, but that dirty, miniscule part of me that still has some deformed part of a conscience is screaming that I shouldn't. If this were a man, I would have one of my guys kill him, but it's a f.u.c.king girl, and I'd really rather not kill her. I can lie, cheat, steal, kill; I can do a number of horrendous things without batting an eye-as long as it doesn't involve a woman. And as f.u.c.ked up as that mess with Joe's wife was, I can't go there, even though I know it's probably safer for me to; I can't kill her.

"You just..." I shake my head, "stay there." I stand and pace in front of my desk, then grab the bottle of whiskey, twisting the cap and tossing it to the floor. I turn the bottle up and suck back several mouthfuls of the burning liquor while staring at her. I take one more large gulp, then sit on the floor and slump against the door.

"If you try to leave, you'll have to get through me. I've been pretty f.u.c.king patient up until now. Don't test me." I flip my s.h.i.+rt up to reveal my gun. "Just so you know, if I have to kill you to get my f.u.c.king money, I will."

Her chin drops to her chest, and she cries. And I drink. I drink until my eyes f.u.c.king cross because I see no solution to this situation that I like. At some point, she falls asleep, and I keep tipping back the bottle, watching her. She's just lying there, arms behind her back, hair matted to her face. I skim over her, stopping to admire her breathing. She's out cold, and each large swell of her chest forces her b.r.e.a.s.t.s up. That is one thing that gets to me, for some reason, watching a woman breathe-the way their b.r.e.a.s.t.s rise and fall, it's a turn-on, and the fact that her hands are tied behind her back is just making each draw she pulls in more p.r.o.nounced and slightly labored. f.u.c.k me! I have to shake off that automatic response my body has to it. I keep watching her for G.o.d only knows how long, my d.i.c.k pressing against my jeans like G.o.dd.a.m.n roadkill. I can't take it any longer.

I manage to stand, but only briefly before staggering and falling into my desk. "f.u.c.k this," I grumble and grab the knife lying on the desk. "Just f.u.c.k it!" I stumble toward her, losing my balance several more times before I kneel next to the couch. I stare at her, flipping the knife in my hand. I shouldn't do this, but I'm drunk. I take the blade and slip it between her wrists, and the zip tie snaps free. I guess even soulless motherf.u.c.kers like me have a weakness. f.u.c.k it to h.e.l.l. I rub my hand over my head, dropping the knife to the floor when I fall into the wall. I settle back against the door, and my eyes grow heavy. Great! The d.a.m.n room is spinning. I lean my head against the door and pa.s.s out.

I wake up and my head is pounding. My shoulders ache where my arms have been tied behind my back for so long. Just as I think that, I realise that my hands are no longer bound.

I don't remember him untying me.

I sit up quickly. Looking down at my hands, I notice that my wrists are marked from the restraints. I guess I only have myself to blame for that, but I wasn't going down without a fight.

My eyes dart around the small room. It's dark, the only light coming from a small lamp on the desk. There are no windows, and the walls are bare, with the exception of one picture of a naked woman hanging over the side board covered in various bottles.

The door is opposite me, and there, slumped against it on the floor, is that man. His head is resting on his shoulder, and he does not look comfortable.

Good, I hope he has a stiff neck for days to come.

I study his profile, watching as his chest rises and falls on heavy breaths. He's intimidating, dominating, and scary as h.e.l.l. This man is as predatory as they come. Everything about him screams deadly. I don't know what the h.e.l.l Euan is into here, but this s.h.i.+t is serious.

My eyes drift down his chest of their own accord, tracing over the broad muscle. They skim lower, lower, and that's when I notice the dim glint from the gun in his lap. His fingers are wrapped firmly around it, one a whisper away from the trigger. s.h.i.+t, is he planning to shoot me?

I slowly rise to my feet. My head spins, but I manage to steady myself. I tiptoe across the room, watching to make sure his breaths remain even. Maybe I can just pry that gun from him? s.h.i.+t, can I?

Worth a try. I drop into a crouch in front of him, reaching out cautiously. He doesn't move. My fingers just brush the cool metal of the gun when his hand darts out and latches on to my wrist, squeezing hard.

"You should know I'm a very light sleeper," he whispers without opening his eyes. I jump, and fall back on my a.r.s.e. s.h.i.+t! "Nice try, though." Opening his eyes, he sits up. "What exactly were you gonna do, sweetheart? Kill me?" His gaze narrows accusingly on me, and I try to tame my pounding heart.

"No, just escape," I whisper.