Black Listed (4 page)

Sawyer braced a hand over her head, looming over her as he boxed her in. “For the next seven nights, you belong to me. You don't fuck anyone else. You don't even think about fucking someone else. Your nights are mine. Your body is mine. Do it, and I'll grant you a divorce and forgive your debt. You won't ever have to worry about me again.”

Seven nights. It wouldn't be that easy to get him out of her system. Despite what he thought, she'd worry about him for the rest of her life. For the next week, the pleasure he'd bestow would be a living hell for her. It was punishment for her sins. It was no less than what she deserved.

She gave a sigh of resignation. “It's a deal.”

A flash of heat banked in his eyes before it disappeared. “What's your name?”

Puzzled, she frowned. Why was he asking her name when he already knew it?

As she stared up at the man who haunted her dreams, the memory of their first night together slammed into her. Did he want to pretend they were strangers again?

She almost laughed. If only they could be.

“No names,” she said, waiting for his response to see if she was correct.

He pressed himself against her, letting her feel his erection. Thank God he wasn't as immune to her as he appeared. She wouldn't be able to handle it if he was. Then again, it was just sex, wasn't it? And for a man who owned a sex club and had been with multiple women since she'd left him, sex meant nothing. She couldn't forget that. She couldn't allow herself to become confused about what this was.

This was Sawyer's revenge. Other than to remind her of all she'd lost, she didn't know exactly what he hoped to accomplish by bending her to his will for seven nights. But if it was the only way to save him, she'd do it.

“Have you ever fucked a stranger before?” he asked huskily.

She shook her head, her throat suddenly dry.

“You like that idea?” he continued. “Does it make you wet?”

The idea of fucking a stranger didn't make her wet. It was the idea of fucking Sawyer that had soaked her thighs.

He didn't wait for her to answer. “Show me. Lift up the hem of your dress and check.”

Without thought, she clenched the fabric of her dress in her fists, raising it up her legs inch by inch and exposing her pussy.

“Dirty girl. You're not wearing any panties. You were waiting to be fucked, weren't you?”

Assuming it was a rhetorical question, she didn't bother answering, keeping the fantasy alive rather than explaining she had gone without because of fashion. Visible panty lines would've killed the look of the dress.

Keeping the fabric bunched up at the waist with one hand, she used the other to stroke over her folds. She was drenched.

It didn't surprise her. Not only had she gone without sex for more than four years, this was Sawyer. How many times had she brought herself to climax over the years by replaying their time together?

But her memories had nothing on the real thing.

He shocked her by dropping to his knees in front of her and holding her dress up so she could free her other hand. “Keep going. I want to see you touch yourself.”

Her shyness took a backseat to the deep throbbing need that had her circling her clit with two fingers and gathering her wetness with two others. The sight of a strong man like Sawyer on his knees in front of her made her feel powerful in this powerless situation.

What was wrong with indulging in the fantasy that they were strangers? That they didn't have a past hanging over them like a storm cloud. Right now they were strangers, not a wife in love with a husband who despised her.

He grabbed her wrist and brought her soaked fingers to his closed mouth, smearing her arousal over his lips and making them glossy. Then, emitting a rumble of approval, he slowly and methodically glided his tongue along the plumpness of his lips, like her taste was a treat to be savored. The fingers on her clit were a pale comparison to the visual, and she shook from the heat that flooded her body.

Sawyer lowered his face between her curls and inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily and strands of his blond hair tickling the inside of her thighs. She was desperate to feel his mouth on her, aching for his touch.

And then she didn't have to wait anymore.

He parted her labia, and his head descended, his hot tongue running up her slit before lapping at her clitoris with the precision of an expert.

She threw her head back against the books and covered her lips with her hand, muffling her cries of ecstasy.

He stopped his ministrations, lifting his face from her pussy to look up at her. “Take that hand away from your fuckable mouth. Those noises you're holding inside belong to me, and goddamn it, I want to hear them. Let me hear how much you like my tongue.”

She gasped as he pushed a thick finger inside her and returned his tongue to the exact spot where she needed it. “Oh God. Yes.” Her muscles clenched as she approached climax. “I don't like your tongue. I fucking love it.”

“So tight,” he murmured against her folds. “If I didn't know better, I would think you haven't been fucked in a while.”

“I haven't,” she whispered, too far gone to think about what she had admitted.

He stilled. “How long? How long has it been since you've had anyone inside of you?”

Panic clouded her thoughts. “I don't—”

“How long?” he asked gruffly.

“Four years.” She held his gaze, marveling at the intensity burning in them. “It's been four years since I've had anyone or anything inside of me. No fingers. No tongue. No vibrator. No cock. No one since my husband.”

He blew out a breath. “You've stayed faithful.”

His body slackened. The lines of tension on his face disappeared, replaced by a slight grin. There was something dangerous about the way he looked at her, a spark of light in his eyes as if he had hope.

Did he still love her? Or was he hoping to use her love for him against her?

Either way, she couldn't let him know how deeply she cared for him or what lengths she'd go to in order to keep him safe.

“I've stayed faithful only because the opportunity never presented itself.”

A crease between his brows formed. “If that's what you tell yourself to sleep at night, go ahead and believe it. But you and I both know if you had wanted to get laid, you could've walked into any bar and picked someone up for the night.”

She didn't know how to respond. He was right. Sex had never been something she had to work hard at getting. That's one of the reasons she had been successful as a con. She'd attracted both men and women since she first began using her sexuality as a tool at eighteen.

“You don't know me, and I don't know you. Tonight we're two strangers without a past.” Unable to stop herself, she raked her fingers through his hair. “Please. Just let it go for one night.”

He shuddered as if he was affected by her touch. “Just for tonight. But this conversation is far from over.” Shooting to his feet, he snatched her wrist away from his head and turned her around to face to bookcase. He snaked an arm around her middle and pushed on her back with his other until she was bent over, her hands braced on the shelves.

A hard smack on her bare ass sent ripples of heat darting through her as she remembered the first time he'd spanked her. The way he'd bent her over the sink. The way he'd thrust into her from behind. He was truly re-creating that night.

But for what purpose?

She trembled at the telltale sound of the condom wrapper ripping and waited impatiently for his next move.

“Sorry.” Sawyer leaned over her, his cock nudging her opening. He still wore his clothes, the fabric of his dress shirt rubbing against her back. “This is going to be hard and fast.”

He entered her, the burning invasion stretching her just beyond comfortable. But she didn't care. It had been so long since she'd had anyone filling her, and the fact that it was Sawyer almost brought tears to her eyes.

Sex had never been their problem. Even while engaging in role play, it had been the one honest thing between them. They'd silently bared their souls completely each and every time they'd made love. But as soon as they were done, the guilt over her lies had nearly shredded her.

And she was still lying.

Sawyer groaned as his cock slid deeper inside of her, eased by her slippery arousal. He curled his hand under her and played with her clit as he slammed into her over and over again, pushing her onto the balls of her feet with every thrust.

It was all too much—the sensation of him filling her, the scraping of his fingernail on her clit, the scratch of his slacks on her thighs—she couldn't hold back even if she wanted to.

What started out as a flutter in her lower belly grew into a full-out body quake. Her muscles tensed and her eyes flew shut as her pussy clenched and released relentlessly. Heat spread throughout her core, and the waves of bliss shattered her, leaving her breathless and broken.

Before she recovered, a silent Sawyer stilled behind her, the only movement that of his cock twitching inside her as his come jetted into the condom.

Reality of the situation crept its way into her consciousness like a fifty-pound weight sitting on her chest.

How could she handle six more nights with him when already a part of her clamored to tell him the truth about why she left?

But the truth could get him killed. She couldn't forget that for a second.

Sawyer's heat disappeared, leaving her chilled and confused. He slid her dress back over her thighs before issuing his gravelly command. “Clear your schedule for the week, Annaliese. Starting tomorrow, you're mine.”

K
EYS IN HAND
, Lisa climbed the stairs up to her condo. The night of Cole and Danielle's wedding turned out to be the longest night of Lisa's life.

After Sawyer had ordered her to be available to him for the week, he'd stormed out of the room. In a fog and questioning whether she'd really made love to her husband or imagined it, she found her way to the guest bathroom, where one look in the mirror gave her confirmation. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy. Anyone who looked at her would know she'd just been fucked hard and good.

She'd spent a few minutes setting herself back to rights and returned to the reception, where she stayed busy, both to avoid Rachel's questions and to keep her mind off the deal she'd made with Sawyer. What she couldn't avoid was the sensation of Sawyer's gaze on her. Even as the night cooled the air, it had made her hot and kept her painfully aware of the delicious soreness between her legs.

At least he'd had the decency to leave the party right after dinner.

With sunrise on the horizon, all she wanted to do right now was slide into bed and sleep for the next eight hours. She needed a clear head to figure out how she could get out of her arrangement with Sawyer. There was no way in hell she could go through with it.

Her first instinct was to run. After having spent most of her life doing just that, the compunction about packing up her belongings and making a fresh start under a new identity pressed hard on her. As Sawyer's presence suggested, her past was catching up with her.

Who else might have recognized her from the photograph? If Sawyer found her, could the rest be far behind?

But if she ran now, she'd miss the life she'd built for herself these past few years. There was nothing like getting paid to manipulate and orchestrate. She'd been born for public relations. Or maybe if she'd had a different set of parents, she would've ended up as an attorney. As she'd observed working at the law firm, lawyers did plenty of manipulation and orchestration in their jobs.

Barely able to keep her eyes open, she leaned against the doorframe as she stuck the key into the lock. But before she turned it, the door moved inward as if it had already been unlocked and opened. She pinched the bridge of her nose and thought back to the prior day. She'd been in a rush to get to Benediction, carrying multiple bags with her as she left.

Was it possible she'd forgotten to shut the door?

She pushed it open, the porch lamp throwing a sliver of light into her condo's entryway. A streak of crimson on the carpet caught her eye.

Was that blood?

Her hands began to tremble, and her heart pounded.

Suddenly, she was wide awake.

She inched inside, leaving the door open, and flicked on the lights. Like she'd been punched in the chest, all the breath left her lungs as she took in the mess of her condo.

Splashes of blood-red paint stained the white walls and beige carpeting, its cloying scent obvious now that she stepped inside.

She continued farther into her home, stopping at the kitchen, where garbage had been strewn everywhere. Flies buzzed around the pile of rotten food covering her kitchen table. Gagging on the rancid smell, she covered her mouth and hurried out of the room.

Her couch cushions had been sliced, pieces of foam and cotton littering the room, and her television had been shattered as if hit with a baseball bat. Her bookshelves were now bare, her beloved books ripped apart and covered with the red paint.

Thank goodness she hadn't hidden her black list on those shelves. Perhaps it was time for her to put it in a safe deposit box at the bank.

But what if she had to leave suddenly?

No, she had to keep it accessible. For now, it was safe.

She briefly closed her eyes, terrified of what she'd find in her bedroom, but she had to see. Had to know. Whatever had been done couldn't be any worse than the images playing through her mind right then, the worst of it being that the intruder was still in there.

This was no ordinary break-in. There was rage behind the chaos.

Since there was no sign of forced entry, whoever did it either knew how to pick her lock or had gotten her key.

Determined to stay calm, she held her breath and strode into her private sanctuary.

All her clothes were piled onto her bed and had been slashed and covered with paint. She inched closer, sensing something different about the mound of soiled fabric. It almost seemed alive, as if the fabric itself was stirring.

Breathing.

A piece of paper floated down onto the floor.

Although her instincts screamed for her to flee, she wouldn't crumble. Whatever this was, she would handle it. Alone. Just as she always did.

She commanded her feet to move and stretched out her arm, snatching the paper. The intruder left her a message written in block print.

Gotcha.

She'd been found.

But why had he or she gone through all this trouble, rather than call the police on her or kill her?

This felt like a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Whoever it was wanted to play with her before he finished her off.

Something caught her eye from the heap of clothes. Something black that appeared and disappeared before she could blink.

Clutching the letter in one hand, she gingerly lifted a couple pieces of fabric with the other, praying she wouldn't find anything. Her wrist tickling, she scratched it, but the irritation persisted. Not seeing anything on the bed, she continued to move her clothes. A black blob crawled and spread.

No, not a blob.

Ants.

Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.

Her gaze fell upon her wrist.

Black ants crawled over it.

Slapping at her hand, she backed out of the room until she slammed into a solid form.

A person.

She screamed as she spun around and punched the intruder in the gut. She was raising her leg, preparing to knee him in the nuts, when she realized his identity.

Sawyer.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, noticing he'd changed from his suit into jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled, exposing his forearms.

The timing of his arrival tonight and this break-in couldn't be a coincidence.

Was that why he'd left the wedding reception early? To ransack her condo and terrify her as a means of revenge?

Sawyer bent at his knees, and the next thing she knew, he had her airborne and hanging over his shoulder in a fireman hold as he stormed down the hallway. “I think the more important question is what the hell is going on? Who did this?”

The nerve of him! Who did he think he was coming in here and playing hero? It set her nerves on edge.

She tried wiggling off him, but he smacked her butt and held her tighter. “Why don't you tell me? I've lived here quietly for the past several years without incident, and in one night, I run into you and then come home to this.” Her dress slid up her thighs. If he didn't put her down soon, she'd flash her neighbors.

He brought her outside and practically dropped her on her feet. “You think I had something to do with this?”

Slightly dizzy from hanging upside down, she leaned on the brick wall of her condo for support. “I don't believe in coincidences.”

“Well, believe me when I tell you this.” He tipped up her chin, forcing her to look at his face. “I had nothing to do with it. And to prove it to you, I'm going to call 911, like you should've done as soon as you realized someone had broken into your place.” He stepped away from her and pulled a phone from his pocket.

Panic surging, she grabbed his wrist. “No, don't call the police.”

“Are you serious?” He covered her hand with his own. “Annaliese—”

“Stop calling me that. My name is Lisa now.” She couldn't handle the way her body reacted when he said her real name. As if it belonged in his arms. Preferably naked. She had to stay detached if she was going to save them both.

His jaw tightened. “You'll always be Annaliese to me, and right now, you're still my wife. So that makes you my responsibility.”

His wife in name only. She'd never truly belonged to him, and she never would. “I'm no one's responsibility but my own. I'll deal with this mess. You can go now.” She whipped her hand away from him and gestured to the parking lot.

He squinted at her arm. “What is up with the ants crawling on you?”

Smacking the ants off her, she shuddered. Even if she managed to kill all the bugs, she'd still feel them on her skin until she showered. “Check the bed. Someone left them as a present for me. I hate ants. Always have.”

He paused, folding his arms across his chest, and glared, assessing her. “This isn't random, is it?”

In her view, nothing was random. Everything had its reason, and everyone had a motive. “No. Whoever did this wanted to scare me.”

And it had worked, although she'd never admit it out loud, even to Sawyer. Especially to Sawyer. If she gave into her urge to turn to him for comfort, she wasn't sure if she could ever make herself leave again. But she wasn't the submissive Annaliese anymore, the girl who'd worshipped the ground Sawyer walked upon. She was Lisa. Cool. Collected. Capable. “It's someone from my past.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he left a note.” Damn, she'd left it inside on the floor of her room. “All it said was ‘gotcha,' but I think I can safely assume this wasn't a random break-in.”

“Pissed off a few people, have you?” He casually rubbed the blond scruff lining his jaw, but there was nothing casual about the fire in his eyes.

Good. At least it was something. She couldn't stand the dispassionate blankness his gaze had exuded at Benediction. If she was going to figure out how to get rid of him, she needed to be able to read him well, like she had all those years ago. She need him riled up. Angry at her. “Did you think you're the only one I conned in my lifetime? There's at least a half dozen people who would pay to kill me.”

He stalked toward her and grabbed her shoulders, backing her up against the wall. “And how many of them did you marry?”

As he looked down at her, breathing heavily, his eyes full of lust, she couldn't lie. “Only one. Only you.”

His eyelids fluttered shut, and he buried his nose into the side of her neck, inhaling deeply as if taking in her scent. “Guess that's something, huh? I'm special, then.” She swore she felt his lips caress her skin before he lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. “So why don't you want to call the police?”

“What am I going to tell them? There's a handful of people who want me dead because I cleaned out their bank accounts? There's no reason to call them. I don't need them asking questions and looking into Lisa Smith's background. I've survived this long by keeping my head low and staying out of trouble. I'll hire a crew to clean up the place, and I'll change my locks.” Or run far away where no one would ever find her again.

This time she wouldn't let her guard down. She'd go back to the persona of a mousy secretary and not think that she could have a semi-regular life with friends and a career. She hated the idea of leaving the friends who had become more like a family to her than her actual blood relatives.

He toyed with the ends of her hair. “Do you have any clothes to change into?”

“Yeah, I have a bag in the car with the clothes I wore as I set up the wedding. Why?”

“Because it looks like everything you own has been ruined, and as sexy as you look in that dress,” he said, his gaze raking down the length of her body, “I doubt you want to wear it at the hotel.”

No way could she stay in his hotel room.

It was hard enough to pretend she didn't still love him, but the more time she spent with him, the harder it would be to maintain the charade. “Hotel? I'm not going—”

“You are.” He spoke as if she didn't have a choice, which if they were in a scene would really turn her on, but in the real world only managed to piss her off. “You're going to stay with me until we figure out who did this to your condo. It's not safe for you to be alone right now.”

“I don't think that would work out too well. I can stay with a friend until my place is cleaned.”

He snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her to him, bending to whisper in her ear. “Have you already forgotten your promise to me? I own you for seven days, and that means if I want you staying with me, you'll stay with me.”

She shivered. It had nothing to do with the night air and everything to do with his display of dominance. “Six. Last night was the first, so we have six nights left.”

He chuckled. “Last night didn't count. You hadn't agreed to my terms yet. So seven.”

Intending to push him away, she placed a hand on his chest but instead found herself drawing closer. “Have you always been this bossy?”

“Yes. You never minded it before.” He tipped up her chin, his thumb caressing her cheek. “In fact, I remember you loving my bossiness, especially that time when we played CEO and the secretary.”

“In my defense, you made a hot secretary.”

He bit her earlobe. “Maybe next time, I'll let you be the secretary.”

She fought against the wave of pleasure rolling through her pussy. “So cliché.”

“There's nothing cliché about you and me. Now are you coming with me, or do I have to pick you up and carry you again?”

She was losing control.

Control of her body.

Control of her mind.

Control of her emotions.

Grappling to regain some sense of restraint, she moved away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, as if that would give her some protection from him. “How do I know this isn't all part of some wicked plan for revenge against me? You make me fear for my life, you swoop in as the hero, and then steal me away so you can cut me up into a million tiny pieces and feed me to the fish.”