Authors: Lexxie Couper
“I must leave you now, Ms O’Lauchlan. But before I do, I direct your attention to the bed. You will find something very important, very…inviting awaits you there. Something that will change
everything
.” A weighted pause followed, and once more Katrina was overwhelmed with that urge to wrap her body around his. There, and then gone in an instant. Blue blue eyes held hers before, with a speed that should have made her reach for her gun—the one back in her safe in Australia—he lifted his arm, cupped her jaw in his hand and placed a kiss on her lips.
The feather-light contact was like a scalding brand. Rapacious wet heat flooded her pussy and suddenly her head filled with…
…
the wall. He threw her against the wall, his hands tearing at her shirt before she could push him away, his mouth closing over her right nipple as his hands mauled her breasts. She cried out, jerking into him and away from him, molten heat surging through her. Her cunt constricted, clamping down on a cock that wasn’t there. Wet heat flooded through her, a surging wave that stole her breath. She cried out again, ramming her hips to his, the solid length of his erection grinding to her mons, a rod of demanding lust and forceful hunger. His teeth sank into her nipple, his claws into her flesh. She bucked against him, wanting to push him away, wanting to wrap her legs around his hips and impale herself on his colossal cock. Oh, God, what was she doing, what was she
…
Katrina gasped and jerked away, pressing her fingers to her mouth.
Abaddon’s smile stretched wider. “Until next time, Ms O’Lauchlan.” And then he was gone. From the suite in a silent stride, leaving nothing but a heady cloud of musky cologne and a wet pair of knickers in his wake.
Katrina stared at the spot he’d just been. What the hell had just happened
?
Disgust and apprehension wormed into her gut. Did she really experience that? Did her mind just explode with a vivid image of being fucked by the man against the very wall behind her? Jesus, did she imagine him with
claws
?
Hitching her tote higher up her shoulder, more than a little unsettled, she crossed the luxurious suite, heading for the bedroom. The bath—and the beer, no matter the brand—beckoned. She would scour away the uncharacteristic and unnerving jitters and begin—
She saw the bed.
Or more to the point, what lay
on
the bed. Spread out so she couldn’t miss it.
The black latex corset seemed to shine with a slick gloss. Black metal eyehooks travelled down the front from the plunging v-neckline, emphasising the cinching lines of its bone structure and outrageously skimpy breast cups. Katrina swallowed. Her boobs would practically overspill in those things.
A wet heat pooled between her thighs at the thought, followed by an eager pulse when she realised anyone seeing her in a such a garment would most likely get to see the faint dusky hint of the top of her nipples as well.
She dropped her gaze from the way-too-erotic corset, taking in everything else on the bed. A black latex g-string was positioned in the appropriate place, a long length of what appeared to be suede attached to its back crossbar.
A tail? A cat’s tail?
Ignoring the increasing beat of her heart, Katrina moved her inspection to the elbow-length, handless black latex gloves, the thigh-high black latex stiletto boots and the black suede pussy-cat ears attached to a wide black Alice band.
She narrowed her eyes. The pointed ears confirmed it. A cat.
A
sex-kitten.
Mouth dry, palms prickling, she moved closer to the massive bed. Beside the corset sat a golden box, roughly the size of a shoebox. Something about it made her heart quicken. She stared at it, bath, beer and pussy-cat ears forgotten.
With hands that wanted to tremble, she reached for the lid. Removed it.
Inside, cradled in gold silk was a glossy black eye mask, and folded beside that was a sheet of black card with the word “invitation” embossed in elaborate gold leaf.
Without touching the mask, Katrina pulled the card from the box, unfolded it and skimmed over what was printed in gold on its black surface.
A lump filled her throat. A big lump. About the size of Ayres Rock. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
She read the invitation again, and it took all of her training not to give in to the weakness suddenly attacking her knees.
You Are Cordially And Personally Invited To The Big Man’s Summer-Fling Masquerade Ball Sunday Night In The Wicked Lynx’s Dominate Play Room.
Please Find Your Personally Selected Costume And Mask With This Invitation
.
And below that, in an arrogant scrawl Katrina knew all-too well:
I look forward to seeing you there, Kat. XXX, The Mouse. PS. Bring your cuffs
.
The lump in Katrina’s throat grew. The Mouse.
The bastard knew she was there. Knew and gloated over that knowledge.
The eager fluttering that had made itself at home between her thighs since Abaddon’s appearance roared into a wild, constricting beat. Katrina ground her teeth, anger twisting into the traitorous excitement wanting to consume her. She glared at the cat costume on the bed, her skin on fire and her heart going mad.
Fuck.
She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to scream in frustration. As always, The Mouse seemed to know her every move. Her every single bloody move.
She turned and plonked down on the edge of the bed, wanting her gun more than ever.
Every move.
Then show him moves he’s never seen before
.
The thought sent a dark stab of vice into Katrina’s already turbulent core, and her gaze slid—as if of their own accord—to the erotically sinful costume beside her. She lifted her hand, tracing the cool, slick surface of the corset with the tips of her fingers. The deliciously immoral response of her body to the garment made her mouth dry and she pulled in a ragged breath.
You have the moves. You know you do. Deep inside where you’ve locked them away. Let them out to play. Show the arrogant, smug bastard what a Kat can do to a Mouse
.
Katrina sucked in a sharp breath, and her pussy clenched tight.
She’d promised herself before leaving Australia she would do whatever it took to bring The Mouse down. She looked at the costume again. Felt its sensual intent threading through her veins, pooling in her pussy.
She closed her eyes, throat tight, heart rapid. With dread. With eager anticipation.
Whatever it takes, O’Lauchlan.
Whatever it takes.
She just hoped to God she already had the arrogant bastard in cuffs and back in Australia before she needed to do “whatever” it took.
Really
?
Katrina scowled. Yes. Really.
***
Standing on the busy sidewalk, ignoring the crowds of people walking past, some wearing Hawaiian-print shirts, some wearing Prada, some collared and chained, he stared at
The Wicked Lynx
. Inside was his client. The man who’d brought him halfway around the world. The man willing to pay him over six million credits for the
Australis Night
.
Pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans, he studied the casino’s exterior. It looked like a crystal fortress yet it seemed to have no security devices whatsoever. His gut twisted. No security made no sense. Not at a city like this.
And what type of city is this? A city of paranormal beings, that’s what. A city where cell phones, cameras or recording devices aren’t allowed. A city where everything your grandparents thought fiction is reality. So why
would
that type of city require any type of security you’re familiar with? Try and break into a vault or safe here and you’d probably end up burnt to a crisp thanks to some demon’s bad-breath
.
His gut twisted again and he narrowed his gaze on
The Wicked Lynx
.
At precisely 11:05pm tomorrow night he was meeting Abaddon in the Dominate Play Room. At precisely 11:06pm he would be six million dollars richer. And about to start his life all over again.
Everything would change once he stepped foot inside the casino’s ballroom, regardless of how sensuously surreal Los Magia was. Everything.
Chapter Three
Katrina walked through the corridor, heading away from her suite and its decadent bath and sinfully heavenly bed, toward the elevator. Her head felt like a turbulent mess of conflict and confusion, a sensation she didn’t like. The last time she’d felt like this she’d had the best sex of her life in a forbidden room on the outskirts of Sydney. Feeling like this reminded her of the man she’d spent so much of the last ten years trying to erase-slash-shoot-slash-taekwondo out of her system.
Damn it, she did not need this at the moment. She needed to be focussed. Controlled. She needed to find a map of Los Magia, get her bearings and find The Mouse.
Not
dwell on a past relationship that shouldn’t have been.
Oh, but what a relationship. The way he knew
exactly
what you wanted, your deepest fantasy. The way he knew
exactly
how to make you
…
Stomping out of the elevator, feeling more unsettled than ever, she made a beeline for the concierge’s desk.
“A map and today’s edition of
The Los Magia Times
for you, Ms O’Lauchlan,” the man said before she opened her mouth, smiling at her as she approached the steel and glass desk.
“How did you—” Katrina shook her head. It didn’t matter.
On task, O’Lauchlan. On task
. “Thank you.” She took the two folded items held out to her, a familiar and eager thump in her chest. The hunt. The job. Already she was feeling more focussed.
She turned, ready to begin her search, and then swung back to the man behind the desk. “Mr. Abaddon picked me up this morning,” she said. “Just after I touched down. Is this a normal service of
The Wicked Lynx
or will I be…” She trailed off, unable to miss the uneasy tension suddenly forming around the man’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Ms O’Lauchlan. I am not at liberty to discuss Mr. Abaddon’s comings-and-goings.”
Katrina felt an intrigued twitch in her gut.
“Exactly what
is
Mr. Abaddon position here, may I ask?”
The concierge regarded her, an unreadable expression falling over his utterly handsome face. “Mr. Abaddon does what Mr. Abaddon does.”
Katrina’s eyebrows shot up. Mr. Abaddon does what Mr. Abaddon does? What the hell did that mean?
With an abrupt warm smile, the concierge handed her a folded pamphlet, once again the consummate hospitality professional. “May I recommend
Tartarus
. I guarantee you will be satisfied.”
Fully aware the man was trying to redirect her focus, she dropped her attention to the pamphlet in her hand. Under rich purple lettering that said
Tartarus. Where Pain and Pleasure Become One
, a woman in black latex caressing a studded flogger stared back at her.
A hot wave rolled through the pit of Katrina’s stomach and in a blur of colours and smells and sounds, she was suddenly assaulted by images: a bed; a hotel room; intense eyes the colour of moss and rich soil; strong hands on her wrists, pinning her down; sweat-slicked limbs entwined; a demand; a command; her orgasm; his…
Mouth dry, pulse pounding, Katrina returned her stare to the concierge. “Thank you,” she said. Or maybe she murmured it. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was her body didn’t feel like her own anymore. It felt like the teenage girl’s she’d been ten years ago. The teenage girl foolish—no, stupid—enough to fall for someone she shouldn’t.