AVEN

The overhead lights reflected off the belt in Landon’s hand, making its metal buckle shine. My heart beat fast, my breath catching in my chest as I thought of what that buckle would feel like hitting my skin.

“Landon.”

“Get on the bed, Aven,” he growled, repeating his command. He was standing a few feet away from me, his blue eyes hooded and dark. He still wore the shorts he’d been wearing in the pool, and nothing else.

“No. Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.” I pulled the robe I was wearing closer around me, suddenly very aware that underneath it, I was still only wearing the tiny bikini he’d chosen for me. The bathing suit was still wet, the fabric sticking to my skin, and without the robe, everything underneath my bikini would be visible to him. Of course, he’d seen it all before – he’d taken my top off in the pool, had slid his hand down into my bikini bottoms, had kissed and stroked me until I’d orgasmed.

But that had been different.

That had been a sexual encounter – of course he’d have seen me naked during something like that.

This was just a conversation, an attempt by me to get information about what that woman had been talking about when she’d asked Landon about being accused of stalking.

And yet, something about this encounter was sexual, too – my clit was pulsing between my legs, and my nipples had become tight points under the sheer fabric of my bathing suit.

“Drop your robe,” Landon said when he saw me adjusting it.

“No.”

“You do not want to defy me right now, Ms. Courtland.” His voice was deep, dark, rough.

I thrust my chin into the air. “Not until you tell me who that woman was.”

He smiled, and it was halfway between evil and gorgeous, the kind of smile that was ruthless and sexy at the same time.

He took the belt he was holding and twisted it together, looping it back on itself so that it was loosely folded in half.

Then he moved toward me. The scent of leather became stronger, along with his cologne, or his soap, or his shampoo, or whatever it was he smelled like, whatever it was that got my pulse racing and my pussy wet.

“You want to know who that woman was?” he taunted.

“Yes!” I meant it to come out as a demand, or at least as an exasperated exclamation, but the moment I started speaking, he took the belt and trailed the end of it over the back of my calves.

The leather was soft, supple, taut.

I imagined how it would feel if he pulled back and whipped me with it, and my chest tightened and squeezed so hard it felt like I’d skipped a breath.

“She was a reporter, angel. She’s found a story on me, and she was asking me for a comment.”

The leather still ran over my skin, up and down my leg, like a promise of something to come.

“And the story’s about you stalking someone?”

“Yes.” He stared at me, daring me to say something.

“Did you do it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.”

His blue eyes were locked on mine, storming like a hurricane.

“What matters right now,” he said, reaching out and flicking open the side of my robe with one quick, smooth movement, “is that I told you not to defy me. It was one of my terms. Do you remember that, Aven?”

I nodded.

“Of course you do. And yet you’re doing it anyway.” His eyes were still on mine, and his jaw clenched. He was so powerful, so in control, the heat radiating off of him like an inferno.

I remembered what he’d said to me earlier, when we were in my apartment - that I might be able to lie to him, but that my body would always tell the truth.

He was right.

Whatever he was about to do to me was fucked up. It was depraved. It wasn’t normal to pull out a belt like this, to tell someone that if they defied you there would be punishments.

But my body didn’t know that.

I couldn’t explain it, but the place between my legs ached for him. The shame I felt at being here in this skimpy bikini, my robe open, my tits and ass out for him to ogle, the fact that he’d made me wear this bathing suit in the first place just so he could have access to my body, should have disgusted me.

But it didn’t.

I wanted him to punish me. Part of it was because it turned me on to think about it. The other part was that I wanted to please him. And the smallest part (or maybe the biggest, if I was being completely honest), wanted him to punish me because I could sense the pain that lurked inside of him, simmering under his stoic façade. I wanted to take it away, the way he’d done for me.

“Get on the bed, Aven.” His voice was deep, a growl, as he reached out and pulled my robe off, leaving me in just my damp bikini.

I walked toward the bed. The comforter on top was black silk.

“On your stomach.”

I laid down as he instructed and immediately, he grabbed me and yanked me back until my waist was positioned right at the curve of the mattress. The bed was so far off the floor that my legs dangled over the edge.

Landon reached for a pillow, grabbed it and shoved it under my hips, forcing my ass higher into the air.

“You’ve been very bad, Ms. Courtland.”

“Yes, sir.” I grabbed at the comforter, the backs of my eyes stinging with tears. Not because of what he was doing to me – there was no pain, at least not yet – but because of the humiliation that permeated my body, sliding through me like hot lava.

“You will have to be punished for your disobedience. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

I felt the leather strap of his belt moving over the backs of my thighs, then up over the curve of my ass.

His presence still permeated the room. Even though he was behind me, I could still feel him there, taking over everything, filling the room with his commands.

He flipped the belt feather-light against my ass, and I clenched my hands, pulling at the fabric of the comforter tightly.

“This will hurt.” His voice was a warning, laced with excitement.

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you nervous, angel?”

“No, sir.”

“Really.” He sounded amused, as if I were a little girl who knew nothing about what was about to happen. I remembered how he’d called me pure back in the pool. Then I thought about all of those women he’d been with in the past, all of those beautiful women with their shiny dresses and their perfect hair, their bodies fit and toned from hours with their personal trainers.

Had they been here? Tied up? Taking his punishments?

I might have been “pure”, but there was no way I was going to be scared. I wanted this. And just because I hadn’t had sex before didn’t mean I didn’t know how to give pleasure. Or at least, I could be taught to give it.

“I’m nervous only because I want to please you.” It was true. I heard him go still behind me, and then his body pressed against mine, heavy and strong as he laid over me. His fingers intertwined with mine and he pulled them down and behind me.

He held them there, and I heard him reaching into the nightstand. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed my wrists together behind my back.

I was restrained.

The bite of the metal against my wrists started the first curls of panic.

Landon tugged on them, making sure they were tight enough. “You want to please me, angel?”

“Yes, sir.”

He was standing back up now, and he ran the leather belt down over my spine. “Why?” His voice was a ragged whisper, and for a moment, I had the feeling his walls had come down, that I’d broken through. There was a slight note of vulnerability there. But that was crazy. He couldn’t seriously be doubting why I would want to be with him, would he? He was a gorgeous billionaire.

“I want to make you forget, sir,” I said.

He laid his body back down over mine, and I felt the ridges of his abdomen against my fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed into my ear. “Your body is perfect, made for fucking. Are you ready to be fucked, angel?”

“Yes, sir. I’m ready to be fucked.

And I was.

I couldn’t explain it, but my body was primed. I wanted this.

I wanted him and whatever depraved things came with him.

“I want you to break me in, “ I said, because I knew he liked it when I was dirty.

“More.”

I wriggled on the bed, the curve of the cuffs digging into my skin. I could feel his cock hard against my ass. “I want your hard cock to fuck me, to break my cherry.”

“Goddamn it, Aven,” he moaned.

My hands reached for the waistband of his shorts, pulling at them, sliding my hand over the top of his shaft. The feel of him in my hand, so foreign the first time I’d done it in the pool, now felt reassuringly familiar. My body was already remembering the pleasure of those moments, and as soon as his cock hit my hand, my clit pulsed with desire.

He pushed into me, his cock pushing into my handcuffed palms.

I gripped him as he thrust his hips into me.

His hands tangled in my hair, turning my head back toward him as he kissed me, his lips claiming mine, the two of us a tangle of limbs and skin and warmth.

His kiss was desperate, hungry, and when he pulled back, he pushed my hair to the side and slid a trail of kisses over the back of my neck.

Then he took my wrists, holding them in the handcuffs as he licked a searing trail down my spine.

When he was done, he was standing up, and he yanked my wrists, causing my upper body to pull up from the bed.

My ass pushed even further into the air, and the hard points of my nipples brushed against the silky fabric of the comforter.

He held me there tightly.

And then I felt the belt.

Brushing over my ass again, the leather supple and soft.

“I’m going to belt you now, angel,” he said. “For defying me. Do you understand?”

I bit my lip and raised my chin in the air. I’d been hoping to be able to grasp the bed and use that as leverage against the spanking, but now that I was cuffed, with Landon holding my hands behind me, there would be no way.

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s going to hurt.” He’d just finished saying the words when the belt whipped against my ass, and I cried out.

“Oh!”

“Yes, angel,” he said. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” It did hurt. Another whip of the belt, this time against my other ass cheek.

Tears blurred my eyes, and my skin turned hot and prickly.

Again, he belted me.

Three times.

Four times.

Each blow harder, each one sending crimson hot pain shooting through my skin, leaving me raw.

And yet as soon as the belt was pulled back, as soon as I heard the whoosh through the air as he pulled it off my skin, I wanted it back on me.

Because every blow, every sharp bite of pain that reigned down on my ass, was morphing into a soft, burning, delicious pleasure.

Eventually the tears filled my eyes.

But my cries turned to moans as he continued to belt me, to punish me.

“Your ass is all red, Ms. Courtland,” he said when he was done. I’d lost count of how many times he’d used the belt on me.

Now he reached down and rubbed his hand over my ass.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did that make you wet?” His voice was hard now, removed, as if administering the punishment were something he’d had to do instead of something he’d wanted to do.

“Yes, sir.” I bit my lip as shame filled my body.

Behind me, he began to pry my thighs apart with his strong hands, and the cool air of the room hit my spread pussy.

His finger reached out and slid over my opening, inspecting me for arousal.

“Yes, angel, you are wet. You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you like about it, Aven?”

“The way you punished me.”

“How did I punish you?”

“You spanked me with your belt.”

“Yes, I did.”

He paused, and silence filled the room.

“I want more,” I said, wiggling around on the bed. I was so wet. I was so primed. My pussy ached where he’d been touching it, my clit pulsing.

“More what?”

“More…” I wasn’t sure what to say. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted it more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life. I remembered how big his cock was, how it felt in my hand. “I want to be fucked.”

His fingers probed my folds, forking them with his fingers, checking me again to see how wet I was.

With the other hand, he held the handcuffs, and he yanked them up, pulling me to him so that I was standing up, my back to his chest. At some point, he must have taken his shorts off, because I could feel his naked cock, rock hard against my ass.

Now it felt even harder and thicker than it had in my hand, and I wondered if it was because of the angle, or because he was more turned on now.

My pussy ached, remembering his two fingers buried deep inside of me.

He reached up and untied the strands of my bathing suit, letting my top fall to the floor.

Then he reached around and hefted my breasts in his hands.

“You’ll have to beg.”

“What?”

“You’ll have to beg me to fuck you. You’ll have to beg me to pop that cherry, to stretch your tight little cunt out until you take me.”

“Landon – ”

He rolled my nipples between his index fingers and his thumbs. The pleasure slid through my body, dulling some of the ache from where he’d spanked me.

His hands slid down my sides, over my ribs, causing me to shiver.

When he got to the sides of my tiny bathing suit bottoms, he tugged them down until they were right below my ass.

“Your ass is so red,” he said again. “Branded with my belt.”

He ran his hand over the marks, and his touch was soothing, his hand strong and warm, yet gentle.

“Brand me,” I whispered. “Make me yours.”

His hand slipped in between my legs from my behind, and his index finger pushed into my pussy. “That little cunt is still so tight, angel. What I did to you in the pool didn’t stretch you at all. I’m not sure you’re ready.” His voice was taunting me, teasing me, and I remembered what he’d said. That he was going to make me beg.

“Please,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Please fuck me.” But I knew that wasn’t going to be enough. He wanted to teach me to be dirty, wanted to be the man who made me do depraved things. “Please fuck my pussy.”

He tugged my bottoms down, over my thighs, until they fell to the floor and I stepped out of them.

Then he took my ass cheeks in his palms, squeezed them gently, and used his thumbs to spread my pussy lips.

“Your pussy is so perfect.” He knelt down behind me, and then his mouth was on me down there, causing me to gasp.

My toes curled as his tongue went to work, lapping at my folds, the flat of his tongue making long, sure strokes.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. I rose up to his mouth, but he was holding my ass, his thumbs holding my pussy open so that I could feel my clit popping out from its hood.

He sucked on it gently.

“Oh, Landon.” I was panting now, my breath coming in short gasps.

He pulled away. “You’re not going to come yet, angel,” he said, sounding amused at the way I was responding to him. “When you come, it’s going to be on my cock.”

He turned me over so I was on my back, and laid me back down on the bed.

He rose over me as if he were a God, his body strong and perfect. He was so beautiful, so sexy, every inch of him chiseled as if he was a sculpture brought to life by an artist who wasn’t of this world.

His jaw was strong, the lines of his face elegant and strong at the same time, his eyes the only thing about him that wasn’t dark. I fell into them, the blue pulling me under as he reached behind me and unhooked the cuffs from one of my wrists.

He guided me gently up to the top of the bed, where he grabbed the other loose handcuff and cuffed me to the headboard, leaving one hand free.

I was lying on my back now, and he was straddling me.

He slid down my body, his breath tickling my collarbone, my breasts, my ribcage.

He spread my legs and began to eat me, his tongue strong and sure, swirling around my clit, French kissing me between my legs while I moaned and breathed his name.

“I need to make sure you’re wet and ready, angel,” he murmured, and his breath on my clit made me arch up.

He slid his finger inside of me. “Still so tight. “

I looked at him, down there, between my legs, and watched as his tongue disappeared inside of me, his powerful jaw working.

“Your pussy tastes so sweet. I could eat you all day.” His finger slid inside of me again and curved around, rubbing against my walls. “You’re still so tight. I’m going to have to fuck you anyway.”

He slid his body up so that he was on top of me, and he stared down at me, our eyes locking.

I could feel his cock, hard and big, poised at my opening, and I was thankful I couldn’t see it, knowing it would be so big that I might freak out.

“It’s going to hurt,” he breathed, and I saw how much it was turning him on.

“I want it to,” I said. “I want you buried inside of me, want you to own my pussy, to be the first one in there.”

“Forever,” he whispered, so softly I wasn’t sure he’d even said it. And then his lips were on mine, muffling my cries as the tip of his cock pushed the tiniest bit inside of me.

I immediately clenched up, and he pulled back from the kiss, his hand moving to my breast, rubbing gently over my nipple.

“Just relax,” he said. “Relax and let me in, angel.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

He brushed my hair back from my forehead, gazing down at me. “God, Aven. You are so beautiful.”

He pushed into me more, and there was a sharp bite of pain as I felt him pushing through my resistance, through my virginity, and I gasped and tried to relax as I let him in.

“Landon.”

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He groaned and reached down, thumbing my clit, rubbing my wetness over his shaft as he pulled out and then pushed back into me.

The pain was aching and raw, and the tears that had pricked my eyes before came back, hot and insistent.

He kissed me again, muffling my moans and gasps of pain.

He got me used to him with a few more gentle thrusts, breaking me in.

Then he pulled back, gazing at me with such raw emotion, that for one moment, I let myself believe this was real, that it wasn’t just having sex with him because he was hot and because it felt oh-so-amazing, but because there was something real between us, something true.

“Aven,” he whispered.

“Landon.”

He cupped my face and ran his thumb over my cheekbone. The whole time he was rocking his hips gently, pushing into me, his other hand rubbing my clit, getting me so turned on that the pain I felt from him popping my cherry was starting to dissipate.

“I’m getting used to it,” I said softly. “It ‘s starting to feel good.”

He froze.

I watched his face, watched it change.

Watched the look of softness and affection he’d just had morph into one of hardness.

His jaw clenched, his blue eyes turning dark and torrid.

He moved his hand from my cheek to my chin, and his finger slid up over my bottom lip and squeezed.

“I told you I wasn’t going to be gentle,” he said, his voice rough and ragged. “And I meant it.”

My eyes widened.

“I –”

“Your tight little cunt needs to be used, Aven. I might have been soft with you, but I need to fuck you raw now. Do you understand?”

He didn’t give me a chance to answer before he pulled back and plunged into me, hard and fast.

It was so different from how he’d just been fucking me, that familiar pinch of pain coming back as he began to fuck me, really fuck me, his hips bucking as he broke me in.

This was different, the fucking.

It was primal, desperate.

The metal of the handcuffs clanged against the headboard with every thrust.

He was using my body, and I knew that shouldn’t turn me on, but it did, just as much as when he was holding me and whispering into my ear.

He moved inside of me, pushing, stroking, fucking my pussy.

He pulled my leg up so he could get a better angle on me, pushing into me, taking me.

“I’m going to come, sir,” I said.

“Where?”

“On your cock. All over your cock,” I whispered, and saying the words pushed me over the edge, and I felt myself coming, the hardest, most intense orgasm I could have imagined.

The pleasure was instantaneous, like every sexual thought and feeling I’d ever had coming together in one exquisite moment, exploding as I came, climaxing over him.

As my pussy spasmed and clenched, I felt Landon’s cock pulse inside of me as he groaned.

“I’m going to shoot my load right in you, Aven,” he growled. “Shoot a load come inside your pussy for the first time.”

And then he shot off, coming inside of me, and I could feel it coating me, hot and thick.

As soon as it happened, my orgasm, which had started to diminish, started a new wave of pleasure, clenching him, milking the rest of his load.

When he finally settled, he raised himself up on his arms and gazed down at me.

“That was…” He swallowed and that look was back on his face again, the one that was filled with emotion.

He pulled out of me slowly, then wrapped me in his arms.

“I’m on the pill,” I blurted. “I mean, I should have told you that before. Um, but I’m on the pill. Just in case.”

“I know.”

“How…’’ I trailed off, deciding I didn’t want to know.

And when he pulled me close, and his arms were wrapped around me, and I somehow, inexplicably, felt safe and taken care of, I shut off the voice that reminded me I knew nothing about him, that I’d just lost my virginity to a man that could be a stalker or worse.

* * *

The sound of the phone ringing broke through my sleep.

I sat up suddenly.

It all came rushing back to me.

I was in Landon’s hotel suite at the Belmont.

I glanced at the bed next to me.

He was gone, the sheets next to me a messy tangle.

I grappled for my phone, making note of the time on the display.

6:30 am.

But weren’t we supposed to be leaving for Vermont at 6?

Emma’s name disappeared from the caller ID. I’d missed the call.

I got out of bed and picked up the robe I’d dropped on the floor the night before, shrugged it on.

The curtains were drawn closed, with just a tiny strip of morning sunlight appearing between the two pieces of heavy black fabric. Besides that and the meager light from my phone screen, the room was dark.

My phone started ringing again immediately.

Emma.

“Hello?” I opened the door to the bedroom as I answered the call, and my phone greeting also served as a greeting into the main room of the suite, calling for Landon.

But I knew even before I said it that there would be no answer from Landon. The air around me felt still and quiet, and I could tell I was alone.

“Aven!” Emma said, her voice frantic and hyper through the phone. “Thank God!”

“Thank God?” I said. “Since when are you so desperate to hear from me?” She’d practically shoved me out the door the night before. I hoped she’d gotten my suitcase from outside like I’d told her to. “Hey, did you get my suitcase?”

I was in the living room of the suite now, and I checked the tables and the top of the bar to see if Landon had left me a note. But there was nothing.

A sick feeling settled over my stomach, wondering if I’d been played for a fool. Was it possible he was gone? Possible that he’d made a deal with me – that I would be his and he would help me find my sister – and then just took off?

That didn’t seem like him.

How do you know? You don’t even know him.

“A woman just showed up here looking for you,” Emma said, ominously ignoring my question about the suitcase. “She was practically pounding on the door.”

“What woman?” I was over by the keypad next to the elevator now, scrolling through the touchscreen that was mounted on the wall. Finally I found the screen that had the level the penthouse elevator was currently located on – Level GM.

It was below the lobby, right above B, which must have stood for basement.

What did GM stand for? Ground? But there was already a G for ground.

“A reporter,” Emma said, and I froze.

“Brown hair, messenger bag?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! How did you know?”

“She was here last night, wanting to talk to Landon.”

“Well, tis morning she wanted to talk to you,” Emma said. “She, um… she told me Landon’s been arrested for stalking, and she’s writing a story about it. She wanted to make sure you were okay and see if you had any comment.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

Pause.

“She left her card,” Emma continued. “She’s with the New York Herald, and her name is Misty Bryant.”

There was a silence on the end of the line, while Emma waited for me to say something.

But I wasn’t going to. There was nothing I could say to justify this to Emma. Or to myself, for that matter.

What I needed was answers.

And the person I needed to get them from was Landon.

“Let me call you back,” I said to Emma, and I hung up before she could answer.

I pushed the button for the elevator, and waited for it to return to the penthouse.

When it got there, I got inside and pushed the button for GM.

* * *

When the elevator doors opened, I was in a gym.

Of course. GM = Gym.

It was sleek and shiny, huge and open. There were treadmills and ellipticals and rowing machines and rows and rows of free weights and Nautilus machines.

The room was shaped like an octagon, and the walls were mirrored but tinted, giving the illusion of walking with a shadow of yourself as you moved through the room.

Landon was in the corner, wailing away on a heavy bag that swung from the ceiling.

He wore black shorts and a black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his biceps and chest. He grunted with each movement, hitting the bag with the force of what seemed like a thousand man.

I walked toward him, admiring his athleticism, how his punches were graceful and powerful at the same time, how he shifted his weight from side to side as he went, jabbing, countering, upper cutting, hooking.

I walked closer, close enough so that he had to have known I was there.

He didn’t acknowledge me – instead, he just continued punching, the heavy black bag swinging with the force. This was a man whose muscles weren’t just for show – he was physically strong, the kind of man you wouldn’t want to be in a fight with.

“That reporter was at my apartment last night,” I said, deciding I didn’t have time to bother with pleasantries. “Her name is Misty Bryant.”

Landon ceased punching, letting the bag swing to a stop before he replied.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“What?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he repeated.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she won’t bother you anymore.” He reached down and grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

His abs glistened with a sheen of sweat, and he used the shirt to wipe it off before tossing it into the corner.

Good Lord, he was all man.

I was so distracted by the perfection that was his body that it took me a second to realize he hadn’t been wearing boxing gloves.

His knuckles were raw and bloody.

He saw me looking and he held my gaze, daring me to say something or mention it. I swallowed and averted my eyes. Why the hell would he be boxing with no gloves on?

“What does that mean, she’s not going to bother me anymore?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Relax. I’m not going to have her killed or anything.”

“Then what does it mean?”

“It means she won’t bother you anymore.”

“And why is that? Are you afraid of what she might tell me?”

“No. But you should be.”

“I should be afraid of what she might tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Meaning?” Frustration crept into my voice at the way he was talking, how he was making me sound like a broken record by having to repeatedly ask him for clarification on his cryptic, ambiguous language.

“It means our deal is off, princess.”

He’d never called me princess before, and I didn’t like it. My mouth hung open. “What do you mean, our deal is off?”

“I mean it’s off. Cancelled. Null and void.” His voice was steady, rough, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

I shook my head. “Wow. So that it’s, huh? You use me for sex and then just decide that the deal is off? I might not have my MBA yet, but it’s pretty much Business 101 that you don’t do shit like that.”

I turned back toward the elevator, furious at him, and furious at myself for believing he was anything but what he was – a rich asshole, a prick who didn’t care about anyone but himself.

I jammed at the button, waiting for the elevator to return so I could go back up to the penthouse and get my things. There was no way I was going to leave my purse here again, not after what happened last time.

The elevator doors opened with an annoying ding, but before I could get in, he was there, behind me, putting his arm out and stopping the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, trying to duck under his arm and failing.

“I didn’t use you,” he breathed, his voice heavy and dark with emotion.

I turned around and he was right there, so close I could feel his body heat.

“Then what would you call it?” I tried to turn back away from him, but he grabbed my wrists, his strong hands keeping me from moving.

“What would I call it? I’d call it protecting you,” he spit.

“Protecting me? Protecting me from what? From finding my sister? That’s completely ridiculous and if you know anything about –”

“From me, Aven. Goddammit, I’m protecting you from me.”

He let me go, his chest heaving with the emotion of what he’d just said.

I swallowed. “Why would I need to be protected from you? Are you dangerous?” I demanded. “Did you stalk that girl the way that woman said?”

Landon laughed bitterly. “Does it matter?”

It was the same thing he’d said last night. “Of course it matters! Did you do it or not?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Then why do I need to be protected from you?”

“Because the way it was last night, Aven, that’s not…” His eyes hooded and he scrubbed at his face with his hand. “That’s not how it’s going to be.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Last night. When I told you I wasn’t going to be soft and then I was, that’s not how it’s going to be. Ever.”

“Jesus, you are arrogant, aren’t you?” I couldn’t believe that’s what he was so worried about. “You think I’m just some silly little wilting flower? Some girl who’s going to fall in love with you just because we had sex?” My hands clenched into fists around the sleeves of the robe I was wearing, twisting the material until it pulled tight. “Newsflash, Landon. You weren’t soft for that long. And I wanted that, Landon. I wanted you, and I wanted it rough.” I remembered how he’d been with me last night, how he’d been rough, yes, but how he’d been soft at first, and I remembered too how I’d had moments where I’d felt so connected to him, that I wanted it to be real, that I wanted to be the one to get through to him. But my righteous indignation at what he’d said, how he’d decided to go back on our deal because he thought I couldn’t handle having sex with him, quickly blocked all of that out.

Landon stepped back from me, his blue eyes like two summer storms. For a moment, a look of longing crossed his face, that same look he’d had on his face when he’d first entered me.

“I think you’re the one who needs protection,” I said. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs it at all.” I spit out the words, not quite believing them, but he didn’t refute them, either. “I think you’re scared because maybe last night you actually felt something.”

This seemed to enrage him. “You want to know what I need, Aven?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I want to tell you what I need. And what I need isn’t protection. It’s for you to get over yourself and be straight with me.”

He crossed the space between us in a second, his movements quick like a fox, and he took me by the tie of my robe and yanked me toward him.

“You want me to be straight with you, little girl? Fine. This is what I need.” He grabbed the tie on my robe and tore thin piece of material off me, then pushed his hand up under my robe and thrust two fingers inside of me, hard and fast, not waiting for me to get aroused, not caring. Of course, I was already wet. I’d been wet since I’d seen him hitting that punching bag.

“Landon,” I gasped. I grabbed at his hand, and he released me.

“Exactly,” he said. “You think you can handle this? You want to keep up our deal?” He licked his upper lip, his jaw clenching. “Then get on your knees.”

It was a standoff.

The two of us, staring at each other, wanting things from each other the other one couldn’t give.

“Landon – ”

“No.” He shook his head. “No questions. No talking. This is what you said you wanted, right? Hard? Rough? Then drop the fucking robe, Aven.”

I hesitated for just a second.

But his eyes weren’t the only things that were like a summer storm. His orbit was overwhelming, sweeping up everything in its wake. He was unpredictable and controlled at the same time, and I was afraid that if he did call off our deal, I would never feel the way he made me feel again. He was like my drug dealer, and I needed one more hit.

So I slid off my robe, leaving myself naked and exposed under the lights of the gym, my body completely on display to him.

“On your knees.” His voice was low, deep, the storm in his eyes still raging, even though his shoulders were thrust back, his chest puffed out, his body totally in control.

I got to my knees.

“Come to me.”

I started to get back up, but he stopped me. “No. Crawl.”

I began to crawl to him, naked across the gym floor, but every time I got close, he moved back a few feet, until he’d made crawl all the way across the room until we were back by the boxing equipment.

He tilted my chin up, then pushed his finger past the seam of my lips. I sucked on it hungrily.

He was still holding the tie from my robe, and he slipped it around the back of my neck.

He waited a beat, like he was expecting me to stop him, to safe word. But I didn’t. I swallowed the panic that rose in my throat, and allowed myself to give myself to him. I didn’t know why, but in that moment, I trusted him. I trusted he wouldn’t hurt me, trusted that this was what he needed, that he wouldn’t do anything to me that I didn’t agree to or enjoy.

“Take my cock out.”

I reached up and pulled at his shorts, until his cock sprung free, bobbing right in front of my face.

Jesus, it was big.

He didn’t expect me to put that in my mouth, did he? I’d never had a cock in my mouth before, and I wasn’t sure how, exactly to suck.

“I’ve never –”

“Quiet,” he growled.

“Yes, sir.”

He grabbed each side of fabric that was around my neck and pulled me toward him, twisting the ends in his hand until the fabric went taut.

Then he pushed the head of his cock past my lips, which had no choice but to open.

“I’m going to teach you how to suck me, angel,” he said. “I’m going to teach that pretty little virgin mouth how to suck and lick and stroke until I come. I’m going to teach you just how I want it.”

The feel of his cock in my mouth was an invasion, and my instinct was to move away, but my body was wired with excitement and anticipation, and my pussy pulsed with desire.

“But right now, I’m just going to fuck your mouth.” He pushed into me, then, hard and fast, all the way to the back of my throat, so far that I gagged.

I tried to move back, but he was holding the ends of the robe tie, not allowing me to. I was forced to take his cock, and he kept it there, fucking me, holding my head in place and bucking his hips, using my mouth to get himself off.

When he finally released me, I collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.

I could taste his saltiness on my tongue, could still feel the hard velvet of his cock against the back of my throat.

“Good girl,” he said approvingly.

And then he was standing me, pulling me toward him and spinning me around so that my back was to him.

We were against the sidewall of the gym, and I could see my reflection in the mirror, my lips swollen from the blowjob I’d just given him, my cheeks flushed, my breasts heavy and swollen with desire.

Behind me, Landon towered over me. He stepped out of his shorts, and I watched in the mirror as he held his palm out in front of me.

“Spit on it.”

I spit on his hand, then watched in the reflection as he stroked his cock up and down, two full strokes, his dick seeming to get even harder, thicker, longer, if that was even possible.

I closed my eyes.

“No.” He slapped my ass, the raw skin burning where he’d belted me last night. “Keep your eyes open. I want you to see the expression on your face when I fuck that tight cunt.”

He took the tie from around my neck, then raised my arms up over my head, twisting it, tying me to a hook that hung a couple of feet above us, a hook that was meant to hold boxing equipment but now held me.

He grabbed my hips, and then he slid into me, hard and fast, not waiting for me to get used to him.

I watched his reflection in the mirror, focused on his face, the look of surprise as he thrust into me.

“You’re so wet,” he said, his hands on my hips as he began to fuck me, hard and deep, faster and faster. “You must like being treated like this, like a little slut, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

His words were so dirty, so nasty.

I loved what was happening.

Me, wrists tied over my head, bound, completely at his mercy. Him behind me, his beautiful, chiseled body moving as he thrust into me, his tight muscles flexing with the exertion, the look on his face one of pure possession.

“I’m yours,” I whispered.

His hand tightened on my throat and he pulled me back toward him. I gasped as the new angle allowed him to get even deeper into my pussy. “Say my name,” he whispered.

“Landon, I’m yours.”

He thrust into me, deeper harder, pulling my hair and using it for leverage. My pussy clenched as I cried out and came, and he came at the same time, inside of me, groaning as he unloaded into me.

Then he pulled me close and kissed me, hard and deep, and when he pulled back, he was looking at me in wonder.

“Aven,” he whispered. “Jesus, Aven.”

And that’s when I knew we were both in trouble.

* * *

I showered and got dressed in the opulent main bathroom of the suite, while Landon showered in the other bathroom, the one further down the hall.

The water was hot and steamy, a welcome luxury after the weak water pressure I had in my apartment, but it stung my bruised flesh. Every beat of water against my skin reminded me of him, of his touch, and I turned the handle and made the water a little less warm.

The products in the bathroom were elegant and extravagant, packaged in rose gold with names I’d never heard of, like microexfoliators and dark pine moisturizers. I shampooed and conditioned, shaved and moisturized.

I dressed in the clothes Landon had provided for me – a pair of dark skinny jeans and a black tank top, with a deep purple and cream checked button-up shirt over the top of it.

Black leather knee-length boots completed the look, somehow managing to look rugged and sophisticated at the same time.

It was the look I’d been trying to pull off last night, but now I realized there was only one thing that could make me look the way I did now – money. The fabrics were high-quality, the shirt like silk against my skin, the boots as soft and supple as butter.

I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail, then swiped on some lip gloss and eyeliner.

When I walked back into the suite, Landon was there, wearing black jeans and a black sweater. Black boots were on his feet and a black leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders.

He was on the phone, turned to the side, and I took in the strength of his jaw, the curve of his brow, the fullness of his lips.

“Find out who she is,” he was barking. “I want her off the story, and I want her to never bother Ms. Courtland again. Do you understand? Call me when it’s done.” He hung up the phone, then turned to look at me. “Jesus,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

I thought about protesting, about saying that I knew I wasn’t the kind of model or actress he was used to, but instead, I thrust my chin in the air and just said, “Thank you.”

“Except for one thing.” He strode toward me, and when he was close to me, he loosened my hair from its elastic. He brushed it back from my neck, then traced a line down over my collarbone. When he got to the collar of the shirt I was wearing, he began to unbutton it.

“This shirt is meant to be worn open.” His knuckles skated over my bare cleavage. I had on a black tank top underneath, but it plunged down in the front, straining against the cherry red push-up bra that had also been provided for me. Everything fit me perfectly. I didn’t know how he knew my sizes, or where he’d gotten the clothes. I was afraid to ask, because I knew he wouldn’t lie to me. And if he told me something I didn’t want to hear, I’d be forced to think about whether or not it was a good idea for me to be here.

When Landon was finished unbuttoning my shirt, he stepped back, the lust in his eyes unmistakable.

It was hard to imagine me wanting someone more, and not for the first time, I wondered what would happen when this arrangement was over. How could I possibly go back to guys my age, to normal, ordinary guys? Would they touch me the way he did? Kiss me, take me, hurt me the way he did? There was no way.

“So, did our flight get moved back?” I asked, breaking the spell.

“We’re not taking the jet.”

“Why not?”

“The conditions aren’t safe for a flight right now.”

“Okay. So, what now?”

“We drive.”

“Drive?” I frowned.

“Do you have a problem with driving, Ms. Courtland?”

I shook my head. “How long of a drive is it?”

“Six hours.”

Six hours. Six hours in a car with Landon Sheer. “Will Byrd be taking us?” I asked, remembering the driver from last night.

Landon shook his head. “No. Just us.”

Just us. The two of us, in a car, together, driving on back roads, to… what was it he’d called it? A remote location.

“Okay,” I said.

“Would you like to eat breakfast?” Landon asked. “The kitchen can prepare and send up anything you’d like.”

“What are you having?”

“I already ate.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You need to eat something, Aven.”

“I don’t usually eat before ten am.” It was true. I’d always been that way, even in high school. Coffee was okay, but anything else and my stomach rebelled. It was like it was protesting being awake so early.

“Why not?”

I shrugged.

“That’s not healthy,” he said. “You need to eat something. We’re going to be in the car for six hours.”

“We’ll get gas station snacks.” I was walking toward the elevator now, anxious to get on the road. I was anxious to see Violet, anxious to see if she was with Conner, anxious about what we were going to find when we got to Vermont.

And more than that, I was anxious that if we stayed one more moment in this suite, we weren’t going to leave. Because the way Landon’s cool blue eyes were lingering on my cleavage, on my hips, the way he looked in that damn black leather jacket, the way his hair curled sexily over his forehead, how it faded perfectly into the back of his neck…

I worried we were going to end up naked again before we left.

I wanted to end up naked again before we left.

I forced myself to push the button for the elevator.

“Gas station snacks?” Landon asked as we stepped into the elevator.

“Yeah,” I said. “Or I’m sure there’s a diner somewhere on the way.”

“A diner?” He sounded shocked, like the idea of him eating at a diner was completely out of the ordinary. “You can’t eat at a diner, Aven.”

“Diner food is delicious.”

He raised his eyebrows at me skeptically, and I liked this – shocking him, even if it was in just a tiny little way.

“Stick with me, Mr. Sheer,” I said, giving him a wink. “And maybe I’ll be able to teach you a thing or two.”

* * *

“This is the car we’re taking?” I asked a few moments later, when we were in the underground garage of the Belmont.

“You have a better one?” Landon asked, holding the passenger side door open for me.

“This is a Porsche.” My understanding of cars was extremely limited. I knew nothing about them, but everyone knew that a Porsche cost like, hundreds of thousands of dollars. And this didn’t even look like a normal Porsche. It was sleek and shiny and black (of course), the carriage sitting so low to the ground it seemed impossible a person could even sit in it.

“Yes.” Landon held the door open wider, sounding slightly impatient.

“We can’t take a Porsche to Vermont,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because a Porsche is… it doesn’t go on road trips,” I said.

“Well, unless you want to take the Lamborghini or the Ferrari, I’m afraid you’re going to have to make do, Ms. Courtland.”

I climbed inside.

Jesus.

This car was… insane was the only way to describe it.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Landon instructed once we were settled in.

He started the car and shifted it into gear.

We pulled up the ramp toward the Midtown traffic, and the guard at the gate nodded at Landon before raising the bar for us to drive out.

Landon was a sure driver, steady, and I watched as he downshifted and handled the gear, his hands moving in tandem with the clutch.

He guided us onto the highway, and soon we were on our way out of the city, driving over the George Washington Bridge, watching New York recede into the distance, seemingly so small, even though being in the middle of it was extremely overwhelming.

“You don’t drive the way I thought you would.” I pulled my phone from my purse and tapped out a quick text to Emma, letting her know I was okay and on my way to Vermont. I hesitated, wondering if I should add the fact that the reporter who’d shown up at our apartment wouldn’t be bothering her anymore, and to let me know if she did.

Something about telling Emma that felt strange, though, like I was being loyal to Landon, like I was intertwined in his life somehow. I decided against it and exited out of the text screen.

“How did you think I would drive?” Landon asked, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Fast. Reckless.”

“Not with you in the car.” He reached over and placed his hand on my knee in a gesture of ownership.

Hot desire burned through my jeans where he was touching me, and I looked down at his hand, big on my thigh, his fingers slightly splayed, and I remembered how they’d been inside of me. A shiver ran up my spine.

I turned back to my phone and checked my email, scrolling through the messages.

“Anything important?” Landon asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m looking for a job, but no one’s getting back to me.”

“You should work for me.” He said “should” but his voice was more of a demand, almost like it was already decided. His hand tightened on my thigh.

“I don’t have any tech skills,” I said. “I mean, I know how to code a bit, but my degree is in business.” Of course, he already knew that. “Once I get my MBA, it will be easier to get a job. But I need money for grad school, so I need a job first. It’s kind of like a vicious cycle.”

“I need a publicity assistant,” he said, merging into the right hand lane with deft ease. “You did study marketing, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have my assistant set up the interview.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I know.” He turned and looked at me, his jaw set in a determined line, the tone in his voice conveying that it was settled. I wanted to protest – there was no way I could work at Sheer Multinational. Being at his company, seeing him every day? No, I wouldn’t see him every day, I decided. In fact, I might not see him at all.

I would be a lowly publicity assistant, while he was CEO of the company.

Still.

There would be the chance of seeing him, if not every day, then at least sometimes -- a glance, a glimpse, his name on the building, every day a reminder of what he’d done to me, how he’d touched me and punished me and taken my virginity.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

On the other hand, it would be stupid not to take the interview, wouldn’t it? A real job, with a salary and benefits, at one of the biggest companies in the world, wasn’t exactly something I could afford to turn down.

I didn’t have to decide now.

I spent the next hour scrolling through job listings on my phone, submitting my resume for anything that looked like it could even remotely be a fit.

Landon and I didn’t talk, but it wasn’t awkward. We fell into a comfortable silence, the satellite radio playing an R&B station with soothing, rhythmic beats.

Landon drove, his hand firmly planted on my knee, burning me up, a constant distraction from my job-hunting.

Finally, when we were safely out of the city and somewhere in the middle of Connecticut, my stomach gurgled.

Loud enough to be heard.

Oh. My. God.

How humiliating.

“Hungry?” Landon asked with amusement.

“I guess a little.”

“We’ll find something to eat.”

I put my phone away and sat up, watching the next two exit signs go by before we finally passed a sign that said, “Fifties Diner, Exit Ahead, Easy On, Easy Off. Home Of Ruby’s Famous Pancakes.”

“Get off there,” I said.

“Fifties Diner?” Landon asked, glancing at the sign skeptically. “Could they be any more cliché?”

“Most diners are cliché,” I said. “They make up for their lack of originality with their delicious baked goods.”

“Baked goods? At a diner?” Landon looked aghast.

Even so, he pulled the car off the ramp.

As promised, the diner was right off the highway, and Landon guided the Porsche into the parking lot, totally out of place in the midst of the Accords and Corollas.

Before we got out of the car, he reached into the backseat and grabbed a black baseball cap, pulled it on and tugged it down over his brow. In his black leather jacket, with stubble dusting his cheeks, he looked like a sexy bad boy instead of the control freak billionaire I knew that he was.

He held the door open for me, and we walked inside.

The diner was done in a fifties motif, of course – oversized red booths, black and white checkered floor, jukebox in the corner. It’s My Party And I’ll Cry If I Want To wailed from the speakers, and sure enough, a glass case of cakes and pies spun in front of us, showing off its tempting wares.

The waitresses were dressed in white blouses and pink poodle skirts, and one of them brought us to a booth in the corner and set laminated menus down in front of us.

I ordered blueberry pancakes, Landon a ham and cheese omelet.

The waitress stared at him as she took our order, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she recognized him, or because he was just so damn good looking. When she left, I noticed two girls in their early twenties sitting on the other side of the diner who also kept throwing glances his way.

“I think you have a fan club,” I said, taking the mug of coffee the waitress had poured for me and sliding it back and forth between my hands.

He stayed silent, taking the straw out of his water and drinking right from the glass.

“Aren’t you going to look?”

“I’m looking at you.” He stared at me from under the rim of his hat, and our eyes locked.

I squirmed on the seat under his intense gaze.

“So, um, what are we going to do when we get to Vermont?” I asked. “If Conner and Violet are there? Like, is there a plan?”

“You mean you haven’t thought this through?” He infused his voice with faux shock and took another pull of water.

“Will your brother be mad? That we’re just showing up?”

“I don’t give a shit,” Landon said, which didn’t really answer the question. “Have you heard from your sister?”

I shook my head. “No.” I’d intentionally refrained from texting Violet since last night, not wanting to tip her off that I might be coming to find her. I didn’t want to give her a chance to run if she was hiding out in Vermont with Conner.

“You and Violet are close.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Our parents are dead, so she’s the only thing I have. And I’m the only thing she has.” I frowned and chewed at my bottom lip. “I thought we were close, anyway. But the way she’s acting isn’t the way you act with someone you’re close with.”

“Maybe she’s afraid to tell you something you don’t want to hear.”

I frowned. “Like what?”

He shrugged and leaned back in the booth, stretching his long legs out underneath the table. He hit my foot and tangled his legs with mine, another gesture of possession and ownership.

“Like anything.”

“Violet’s not like that.”

He didn’t say anything, and something about the way he was looking at me made me uncomfortable. It was like he knew the answer to a puzzle I was trying to figure out, and he knew I wanted the answer, and he wasn’t going to give it to me -- instead he was going to make me figure it out myself.

I looked away and grabbed another packet of sugar and dumped it into my coffee. The one drawback to diners was the coffee, but I was going to have to choke it down as best I could – I needed the caffeine boost.

“Are you and Conner close? You’re both adopted, right?” I’d read about it in the article about the two of them. They’d been adopted from different families by their adopted mother and father, Jasper and Camilla Sheer. Camilla had died when the boys were young, leaving Jasper to raise them on his own.

Landon didn’t answer.

“What, you’re done talking?” I teased.

“No personal questions.”

“Excuse me?”

“No personal questions.”

I didn’t have time to process this, because at that moment, one of the girls who’d been sitting in the corner approached our table. She was a bubbly blonde with long wavy hair, her breasts pushed up under her t-shirt, her black skirt short and tight.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sheer?” she said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your, um...” she glanced at me, seizing me up, “…your meeting, but I was wondering if I could get your autograph.”

“No.”

“No?” She laughed, faltering, obviously not used to being told no. “Just, um, on this napkin. I’m not going to sell it on eBay or anything if you’re worried about that. “ She glanced behind her at her friend, who was watching with interest.

Landon sighed, grabbed the napkin she was holding, and scrawled his signature. “This isn’t a meeting, it’s a date. And you’re interrupting it. Now go back to your table.”

The girl scuttled off.

“That was rude,” I said.

“Most people are these days.” He shook his head and readjusted the brim of his hat.

“I meant you. She just wanted your autograph.”

“She was interrupting my time with you.”

I blushed. His legs were still wrapped around mine.

“Anyway, why no personal questions?” I asked. The way he was looking at me was making me warm, so I gathered my hair up into a ponytail, using the elastic I always kept around my wrist to secure it.

“You have the most perfect cleavage,” Landon said. “And when you wear your hair like it, it shows if off and makes me want to take you into the bathroom and fuck you.”

“I don’t fuck people who won’t answer personal questions.”

He leaned forward, amusement playing on his full lips. “Is that so?”

I nodded.

“Then I may have to make an exception.”

“Then answer my question.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not without something in return.”

“Like what?” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in anticipation.

“I’ll give you three questions,” he said. “But in return, I get three things from you.”

“Like?”

“You won’t know until you ask the questions.” His hands reached under the table and took my thighs, his palms spread out as he exerted gentle pressure.

I waited a beat. “I’m in.”

“Conner and I are close,” he said. “He’s the only person I’m close to. And yes, we are both adopted, but we have different birth parents.” He cocked his head to the side, his hands moving higher on my thighs. “That was technically two questions, Ms. Courtland, but since you’re new to this game, I’ll let it slide.”

“Thank you, that’s very magnanimous of you,” I said sarcastically.

“When you make smart comments, it makes me want to shove my dick in your mouth,” he said. His thumbs were making slow arcs on my thighs, sending searing shockwaves of need straight to my pussy.

“Shh,” I said, glancing around. “You can’t talk that way in public.”

He smiled, amused at my embarrassment, then cocked his head again. “Now,” he said. “I answered your question. Now it’s time for your … consequence.”

I waited, not moving my eyes from his, not wanting to show weakness, or that I couldn’t handle this, even though my pulse leapt.

“Tonight I will tie you spread-eagled to the bed,” he said, his thumbs inching even higher. “I’ll tie your legs and your arms so that you’re completely at my mercy. And then I will eat your pussy until you scream and beg to come, and even then I won’t let you.”

My body was on fire.

“Next question,” I said quickly.

“Yes, Ms. Courtland.”

“Have you talked to Conner since I came to see you last night?”

“No.” He smiled. “That’s it? What a foolish question, Ms. Courtland. Now I’ve got the right to spank you with my whip while I’ve got you tied to the bed. I’m going to whip your pussy this time, whip that tight little cunt until you scream with pain. I’m going to humiliate you and make you beg.”

His thumbs were between my legs now, pushing against my jeans right against my pussy.

I swallowed, and then I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Why did that reporter say that you were convicted of stalking if you didn’t do it?”

He froze.

His thumbs stopped moving just a little bit, and then he started again, slowly, the pressure building as he pushed against the fabric, making me so wet I was sure he could feel it through my pants.

“I already told you I’m not a stalker.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

His jaw set in a hard line, and I could see him weighing the benefit of not answering my question vs. what he could do to me if he did.

I saw that same look on his face, the one that he had last night, torture and pain and demons.

“Landon.” I reached down and grabbed his hands, held onto them, pulled them up further in between my legs, pushed him into my pussy, closing my eyes, letting him know that I wanted this, that I wanted him.

I opened my eyes and looked at him across the table.

“I took the blame for someone else,” he said, and he yanked his hands away from me. “And that’s why that reporter said I was convicted. Because I was.”

The waitress returned with our food then, setting the plates down in front of us, then returning with a pot of coffee and refilling our mugs.

When she finally left, I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Who did you take the blame for?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer. Please don’t say Conner.

“Sorry, angel.” He reached for the hot sauce and poured it on his omelet. “But you had your three questions.” He looked up, mischief and something dark glinting in his eyes. “That one’s going to cost you.”

“What?”

“That question. It’s going to cost you. Tied up. On my bed, your skin red and raw from my whip. And then I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”

“Oh.” I let out the sigh I didn’t realize I’d been holding, until he said his next words.

“Right in that tight little ass.”

* * *

We ate the rest of our meal in relative silence. The mood had shifted somehow when I’d asked him about the stalking. I wanted to press him, to ask him about Conner, if he was the one who’d been the real stalker.

But I was afraid that any mention, any pressure, would make Landon rescind his offer to take me to Vermont. And now that there was a possibility that Conner could be dangerous, it was even more imperative that I get there.

So I kept my mouth shut.

We’d be there in just a few hours, and then I’d have more information, then I could find out for myself.

After we ate, we stopped at the gas station next to the diner.

I stared out the window of the car as Landon pumped he gas, watching him in the side view mirror. It had started to snow very softly, and the snowflakes swirled around the car and landing on the window, where they immediately melted.

It wasn’t the kind of snow that was nice.

It was the kind that hardly stuck, the kind that turned gray and wet as soon as it hit the ground.

Landon had left the car on while he pumped the gas, ignoring the signs that told him to turn off the engine. I knew he’d left it on to keep me warm, apparently deciding it was more likely I’d get cold than it was that I would die from some kind of explosion.

But I wasn’t cold.

I was hot.

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window, enjoying the way it felt against my skin.

The sound of a phone ringing echoed through the car, and I reached for my bag before I realized it wasn’t mine.

It was Landon’s.

He’d left it on the seat, and it was hooked up to the Bluetooth, the ringtone coming through the car’s speakers, surrounding me.

The screen mounted in front of me flashed, and a robotic female voice read the text that was scrolling on the screen out loud – “Incoming Call From… Conner Sheer…”

Conner was calling Landon.

I wasn’t sure what to do – I wanted to answer it, to ask if he was with Violet. But I wasn’t sure if that would scare him away. I could answer it, call to Landon, have him ask Conner.

Just when I’d decided to answer it, the call ended, sent to voicemail.

I’d missed my chance.

Landon would call him back, I decided. He’d call him back and he’d ask him about Violet. I would make sure of it.

But a second later, that same robotic voice came floating through the speakers.

“Playing voicemail from Conner Sheer.”

Conner’s recorded voice began to echo through the car. He sounded a bit like Landon – the same cadence -- but Conner’s voice was slightly higher, scratchier.

“Hey,” he started. “It’s me.” His voice sounded labored, like he was walking. “Listen,” he said, and then he began to talk.

And so I did.

I listened.

I had no choice.

And with every word Conner Sheer said, my blood ran colder and colder until it felt like I was frozen from the inside out…