Chapter Three

Benecio

My grip on her jaw kept her from clenching all the way down, but her sharp teeth still stung before I could pry her off and throw her away. Tamatha had fire, and I loved it. She’d become infinitely more intriguing, fighting me every step of the way instead of instantly capitulating. Her pain, and my pleasure, would be sweet. I enjoyed breaking women like her. The women Infidelity supplied eventually broke too. After time, pain does that to many people, and Tamatha would not be the first. I am not a man to fuck vanilla, and even positioning can be a study in the razor edge between pleasure and pain. If I have learned anything, it’s that a woman can be made to love both or learn to accept it. This one would be no different.

She stank to high heaven, and she was a scrubby mess, but the fight in her eyes and the throb of her heart twisted things in me. Maybe a kindred spirit, or perhaps her hate mirrored my own. Whatever it was, I’d spend time ferreting out her mysteries. I hadn’t felt this invested in a very long time, and my hunches were never wrong. She could be the perfect counterbalance to my fucked-up world—the pin cushion I acted out my pain on and the reservoir from which I siphoned emotions I thought long gone. And if she could be molded to become Mrs. Rey, then she would have the world at her fucking feet. For now, though, she was interesting prey not yet ready to be my queen.

“It won’t stop me from fucking you, owning you, or ruling your life. You can fight me, pretty girl, and it will still end the same. Look how wet that pussy is for me, even now.”

And I spoke true. Between her gapped legs, the pretty, pink lips of her pussy glistened with want under the dark tuft of her hair. As a rule, I loved my women bare, so I could watch every flush that spread with my attention, but the frank innocence of the pelt covering her was oddly sexy. I bent forward and threaded my fingers through the soft strands and pulled on them. She clamped her thighs on my forearm, but it only made me pull harder. When she mewled and gripped my wrist, I chuckled.

“Do you think a pair of closed legs means anything? You’ve already given yourself to me. When you told me I could have you for three months, did you think you could change your mind?”

She struggled against my arm, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I pressed my palm against her clit and swerved my hand. She bit her lip and dug her fingers into my skin. Little hellcat, and all mine. But her eyes widened, and I kept going. The Phantom ate up the miles while I played with her, and she fought the pleasure. But I saw it in her eyes, the way her body shook, and the small jerk of her hips she tried to hide.

“You like it,” I told her.

She shook her head, but I pressed hard, and she gasped. Fucking beautiful. Her pussy was wet against my hand, her hairs tickled between my fingers, and her sharp nails were a counterbalance to it all. She was filthy, yes, but her responses were pure. She tried to hide them, but my gaze missed nothing. Not the widening of her eyes or the dilation of her pupils. Not even the hiccup breaths or her pinched nipples. Her mouth said one thing, but her body quite clearly wanted another. I’d fuck her, right here, if I knew it was safe. I didn’t want a condom between me and what belonged to me, and I wouldn’t risk myself, but the urge was there.

She shivered. A light keening sound slipped through her lips, and then she exploded—head thrown back, mouth gaped open, and eyes closed. She was silent in her climax, the sound from before choked off. But when she throbbed under my hand, and her wild eyes met mine, I sucked in a shocked breath. Fear bled into her gaze, mixed with wonderment and shock. What woman feared an orgasm?

She clawed at my arm in desperation, holding my hand against her body as she curled against me. The move tripped something inside of me. This street-wise woman, lost and trapped in her fear, was clinging to the worse monster of all. An odd feeling gripped me as I wrapped an arm around her and lifted her off the floor to nestle in my lap. She burrowed against my chest, heart pounding, shaking.

“Why did you do that?” she asked in a faint whisper. I nearly missed it over her harsh breathing.

“What? Make you come?” I asked.

She nodded instead of answering me.

“Because I wanted to. Surely you’ve come before?”

Her answer, a brief shake of her head, floored me.

“Not even by your own hand?”

I held her firmly on my lap as she tried to push away. Odd though it made me feel, I enjoyed the clinging pet looking for solace with the darkness. But she stiffened her form, fighting against her fright reaction, and the urge to terrify her again blazed through me.

“Word to the wise, challenges will be met with apt responses,” I warned her.

I don’t know why I cautioned her. The darkness inside me was locked back down as she relaxed once more into my hold. She was a mystery, the little prostitute I’d picked up off the side of the road who’d never come. I now craved those climaxes. And as we continued out of the city and toward the covered garage I used at the hotel where I was staying temporarily, I wondered if I shouldn’t have left her there.

 

I carried her along my secret entry to the suite, with Nathan leading us in. Whenever I stayed in New York, I used the penthouse of this particular establishment because they asked little questions, and it provided me use of the top two floors. Security was paramount whenever I was on the move. In the last two years alone, I’d had ten assassination attempts. My line of work didn’t tend to make friends as much as high-powered potential enemies. We tested each other regularly.

“Is Dr. Mumma already on the way?” I asked Nathan.

“He’s downstairs in the lobby and waiting to be escorted up.”

I nodded. “Have him brought in, and then have Rene ready. I’ll need her next.”

I carried my quiet charge through the hotel room until we were in the spare bedroom. She wouldn’t be here long, so messing up the place would be acceptable. I sat her down on the bed, and she curled to the side—trapped in her own world, I supposed—and said nothing. Her silence bothered me on a level I wasn’t ready to examine, so I headed back out to meet with Nathan.

He met me with a lopsided grin. “Not your usual.”

“Apparently. But she’s got something about her.”

“She looks familiar,” Nathan said, rubbing his jaw.

Nathan never forgot a face. Brilliant, with an eidetic memory, if Nathan hadn’t been shunned from La CosaNostra for being half-white, he would have made an excellent consigliere.

“How familiar?” I asked.

“Not like she is now. Prettier. Cleaner. Let me look after she’s been washed up?”

I bristled a bit at the prettier part, but I had to admit she looked horrible right now. “Of course.”

If he recognized her, it could clear up who Tamatha was. While I enjoyed puzzles, they could also be a threat to me. Not that she would be one of them, as I’d found her on the side of the street, but what surrounded her could be. A knock sounded, and Nathan disappeared to open the door. Dr. Mumma, in a pristine dark suit, walked in with a bag.

“Normal panel?” he asked.

“Yes. And I need the results today.”

He frowned at me. “My lab needs at least forty-eight hours.”

I smiled at him. “I need the results today.”

He swallowed and nodded. Good answer. He’d worked for me for nearly ten years. He knew the drill. Nathan escorted him into the room where I’d placed Tamatha, and I headed off to my bedroom. I need to shower and change. While I enjoyed Eau de Her on my hands, the rest of her left a lot to be desired. Twenty minutes later, I was showered and dressed in slacks and a sweater. I felt marginally better as I headed to my computer. The heavily-encrypted device was my entire business. I was a … procurer of sorts. From priceless artwork, to head hunting, I could get my hands on it—for a price. There was no job or request too difficult for me. The harder the job, the more I was paid for it. I could topple governments with what I held in my personal vault. Some items I wouldn’t relinquish, and the rumors of Midas’s Museum were plentiful.

I logged into my backdoor area, a black screen with simple, gold lettering—MIDAS. Very few people, if anyone, would ever have access to this request site. I had a system of rings used for those closest to me, and the ring they wore had an encryption key personalized to their biometrics. If someone else put it on, it would ink out and be permanently destroyed. And if the heart wasn’t beating, well, the ring wouldn’t work either. It cost me a fortune to get such security up and running, and those who wore the rings were above reproach. When a ring-owner request came in, they got priority. Word-of-mouth connections were heavily vetted before I ever touched them, and they eventually needed to be sponsored by a ringed counterpart. Infidelity had made me wonder if there was a different option I should add to my transactions. But I’d think about it later. For now, I needed to check on any outstanding requests on my site.

PACKAGE MISSING. UNABLE TO LOCATE. WILL HELP? SLOANE

I wondered as I studied the message. Sloane was one of my best; he didn’t have issues locating a package.

SEND DETAILS TO NATHAN. HE WILL ASSIST WITH HIS PROGRAM.

I disconnected from the site and scrubbed my computer before turning it off. I made sure to wipe all history, cache, and back-channels every time I used it. Even with the encryption, I was never too careful. Still, Sloane’s issue with procuring our most recent package for Senator Gary Donaldson was not acceptable. Working with the senator gave me an in with some exclusive circles in the States. Direct access to Oren Demetri and his connections to La CosaNostra was dangerous, but Senator Gary Donaldson would be an entrance into a world of stateside old money I would love to have an interest in. Perhaps then I’d be able to meet Oren on an even playing field and anchor myself. I’d tried, through Infidelity, to gain a respectable wife and ties to the Demetri bloodline, but both had fallen through. Any protection between my business and the Italian-based families looking for their unearned piece was exactly what I wanted. In reality, all I needed was an heir. With a bloodline set to extend my empire, La CosaNostra would have to back off.

“Benecio, she’s in with Rene now. Dr. Mumma did her pap smear as well. He said if everything comes back clean, he can come back to install her birth control as soon as you order,” Nathan announced he came into the room.

‘Tell him to be on call tonight. I’ll wait as long as it takes to become active, but that’s it. How much is Rene cursing me?” I asked.

“To the moon and back, but she says there are good lines to work with, at least.”

“I told Sloane to get with you. He seems to be having issues finding Donaldson’s problem. Get him whatever he needs. The sooner I have him locked to me, the sooner I’ll be able to use Judge Townsend to make sure I stay clean stateside,” I told him.

Nathan nodded. “Will do. While we are waiting for your newest acquisition, I’ll contact him. But … Benecio?”

“Yeah?”

“Why go through all this for her when she’s gonna be gone tomorrow?” he asked.

I knew he already saw the answer, but he wanted to hear me say it. That was the problem with friends. They saw too much, even when you wanted to gouge their fucking eyes out for the trait.

“Might be more than that. The jury is still out.”

“Uh huh.” His noncommittal response had me gritting my teeth, but he was already gone, the door closing quietly behind him. Why did I choose the shrew on the corner? Because she looked broken and tossed aside, like me. And I was a sucker for fucking sob stories.

I never learned.