Lethal Sin (Dangerous Games Book 1) (6 page)

Too handsome
.

That was the overwhelming thought clicking away inside her head. He was too handsome to be some hitman for a low life like Scarpa. How had a guy like him stumbled into this world?

Hell, how had
she
ended up like this? In this situation? In this house?

“Bra too.” He commanded, and she found her hands moving to obey him, her attention still captured by his eyes, his perfect face, the dark arches of his eyebrows. As the cool air reached her nipples they hardened even further and the low growl from his chest confirmed he’d noticed as well.

“What about your clothes?” Camille pulled herself out of the silence, baiting him, and he shrugged before he lifted his hands to pull the taut shirt away. As much as she wanted to see that body up close and personal she took the opportunity to flip to her stomach and shove herself across the bed.

“Oh, not so fast!” He shouted and she felt his weight dip the bed behind her just before his hand landed on the back of her thigh, painfully gripping, and then he was on her. Her fingertips were grazing the other side of the mattress, but there was no way she’d out-muscle him as his weight descended over her. Shifting her balance she tried to bring her elbow back into his face, but he dodged it and flipped her to her back. The next moment he had her wrists captured in one of his large hands and she was pinned. The feel of his hard cock trapped behind his pants became a single focus as he ground against her.

“Dammit!” She let out a scream of frustration and jerked hard against his grip but he didn’t budge an inch. They were both still for a long moment, both still breathing hard from their conflict, and in the brief respite she tried to look for an out. Some way to break away from him, to disengage, but each avenue her mind pursued forced her to come up against his strength and she knew she was lost.

As the truth settled over her she looked up at him and realized that all of her earlier ideas about his body had not been anywhere near correct.

He wasn’t just strong – his body was carved marble underneath olive skin. His arms were thick and powerful, his chest broad and covered in a thin smattering of dark hair, and his abs were deep cut ridges as far as she could see. When she finally raised her eyes to his there was no questioning the pique of lust that trickled down her spine to land like gasoline on the fire at her core – but it was a base desire she couldn’t give into. Giving in was giving up, and she wasn’t ready to lose yet. “Let me up, Mateo.”

There was laughter in his voice as he responded, “Not a chance of that,
C
.”

With a shift of his weight he pressed her wrists harder into the bed until the ache made her flinch, and then he reached between them to twist the crotch of her panties in his hand. He met her eyes just before a sharp jerk stung the skin on her hips and she heard the fabric tear. She wanted to fight him, to knock him off her onto his ass so she could get to the door, but she was frozen under the intensity of his stare.

And why the ever-loving fuck was she so wet?

Mateo grinned as he wadded the fabric in his hands and then shoved them into his pocket. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and his grin turned wicked. “Keepsake,” he said in a sinful whisper.

“Am I going up on some weird trophy wall you have in your basement lair? If I’d known that I wouldn’t have worn any panties, creeper.”

A laugh was his only answer, but his grip tightened on her wrists as she watched his other hand move to his zipper. He lowered it without preamble and pushed the layers of fabric out of the way until she caught sight of the hard flesh she’d only felt before.

Fuckity fuck.

He was big.
Really
big.

Large enough to make her second-guess her position underneath him, and so she did her best to twist her hips so she could get a little space to knock him back, but his weight was an immoveable force atop her. She was trapped, and above all else, she hated feeling trapped.

Mateo used his knees to shove her thighs wide, and she arched her back doing her best to pull her hands from his, but it was useless. All of her efforts were so infuriatingly useless. She panted, riding a hard, dual edge of lust that she couldn’t ignore and anger that she’d been caught by him. Again. For a second time in the same night.

Fuck this fucking asshole AND his boss.

Camille heard the sound of foil and realized he was tearing a condom wrapper between his teeth. For a second she wanted to beg, to bargain, to offer up everything he’d asked for, but she pushed it all down. Some things were worth suffering for and the worst part of this was that she wasn’t even sure it would count as suffering – she was more terrified by how much she might enjoy it.

With way too much skill he rolled the latex on and she bit her cheek so she wouldn’t say a word. He wanted Callahan’s location? He wanted her name? He wanted to torture it all out of her with his
stages
?

He was going to have to do a hell of a lot more than whip her, freeze her out, or fuck her.

She hoped.

His first thrust inside her was painfully sharp and she tilted her head back, biting down hard so she wouldn’t make a noise as he stretched her, but his groan filled her ears regardless. Warm breath brushed over her shoulder and then he pulled back and plunged forward again, a little deeper, a little harder. The dull rising tide of pleasure was something she tried to fight, because every time he thrust she hated herself a little more as she stifled her moans.

“Fuck…” he groaned, dropping his head just above her shoulder. Camille pulled at his grip on her wrists, but he didn’t even react as he continued to move deep inside her. Then the dark crown of hair on his head dipped lower and she felt the warm suction as he latched onto her breast, sending a rush of fire down her spine until she clenched tight around him. He moaned against her skin biting her nipple until she yelped, unable to hold the sounds back any further. It was pleasure and pain as he overwhelmed her. Each drive had her hips lifting to meet his, her clit aching with the need to feel just a hint of the friction he was building, and the delicious ache from the bud trapped between his teeth was starting to push her towards the edge.

Camille knew if she fell apart underneath him, she was lost. There would be no more credible fight left in her, because this felt good, too good, and he played her body like an expert. A particularly sharp surge had him bottoming out deep inside her, a twinge of pain before his cock dragged back and rubbed against that place that threatened to send her reeling into climax.

“
Please
,” she whispered as tears of shame pricked the edges of her eyes.

“Begging me already?” His voice was mocking, warm breath soothing the ache in her breast, and it only made the tears burn worse as he thrust again. There was no respite as his hips hammered against hers, and soon there was no denying the urge to meet him. Camille pressed her heels into the bed tilting herself so that the new angle had him grinding against her clit with each forward drive, and she gritted her teeth as she tried her best to fight the moans rising in her chest like the tide.

Useless
. Everything she did was useless.

“Fuck!” She cried out as the vortex of pain, and pleasure, and his sheer overwhelming strength as he held her in place to take her dropped her off the edge into ecstasy. Her body locked up and he buried his teeth in her shoulder, holding her to the bed with his weight so her shudders couldn’t slow his pounding rhythm. As if her body had only been waiting for her to give in, she felt another orgasm rising on the heels of the first. She tensed, letting out a keening whine as she strained to hold it back, to keep from embarrassing herself further, but his free hand wandered up her side and tugged sharply at her nipple. The taut bud was like a direct, electric line to her pussy and on his next thrust she came again, harder, lights flickering behind her eyes as the rush tore through her and left her sinking.

“
Yes
, take it.” He growled against her neck and she felt his cock kick inside her, the walls of her pussy clamping down on him as she rode out her own orgasm. Shivers rocked her, and she hated just how
good
it felt to be underneath him, to feel the strength of his arms as he kept her pinned in place.

They were both slick with sweat as he stilled even though the heat being pumped into the room had not quite warmed it yet, and as his broad body dropped over her she couldn’t find space in her brain to complain about the pressure on her ribs. Her head was full of fuzzy darkness, flickering wisps of thought appearing and disappearing in the haze before they could fully form. Everything focused down to the powerful beat of his heart inside his chest, countering the pulse in her own veins, overlaid with the cacophony of their breaths. It was all visceral and physical, and perfectly without complication.

Mateo recovered first, lifting himself up slowly so that their skin separated inch by inch, and then he slid from her, leaving behind an aching absence that she wished her body would have ignored. “Well, hell…” he whispered towards the ceiling as he released her completely and rolled to land on his back.

“Yeah,” she agreed, unable to even summon a taunt or a joke in the midst of the swirling hormones and the chemical after party happening inside her skull. Propping herself up on her elbows she saw the red marks on her thighs from his hands, the shiny wetness between them – all her. There was a fucking puddle underneath her on the bed, rapidly cooling now that the air was able to reach it, and so Camille just dropped herself back to the sheet.

Not only had he caught her, overpowered her, and fucked her – she had enjoyed it. More than enjoyed it. There had to be a better word for the world tilting sideways as someone attached a live wire to her nervous system and flipped the switch with cackling glee. That had been what sex with Mateo was like. Rough and carnal and way too fucking good.

Too bad she’d probably have to kill him to get out of this place alive.

Chapter Four

Her overwhelming silence was palpable and Mateo knew that this had been a bad decision. He shouldn’t have fucked her, at least not like
that
. Not pressing her small frame into the bed underneath him, not where he could feel the ever-present strain in her muscles as she had first fought to free herself from him and then fought to seek the orgasm he baited her with.

The taste of her skin was still on his tongue, the sounds of her pleas still echoing in his ears, and his cock was a quiet, sated beast against his thigh. He was sticky with her wetness, and he could smell the sex in the air, but this had been stupid.

Now he knew what she looked like when she came, the sweet look of agonized ecstasy as it tightened her features and made her back bow beneath him. How the fuck could he go back knowing she could look so damn perfect with his cock buried inside her?

He should have fucked her from behind, with a hand in her hair, dominating her and reminding her of her place in this situation.

Idiot
.

Glancing over he caught her profile as she stared straight up at the ceiling. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from the many times she’d chewed on them as he’d fucked her. Every line of her body tempted his cock to rise from the dead and take her again and again until she submitted to everything he wanted from her.

And he wanted
everything
from her.

“I want to know your name.” The words came out rough, and he cleared his throat and leaned up on his elbow to look down at her. Her eyes drifted towards him as if she were pulling herself back from somewhere far away.

“No.”

That word felt like a slap and as sated as the beast had been inside him a moment before, now it craved more than just her body. “You’re going to tell me eventually.”

“Just like I’m going to tell you where Callahan is?”

“You’ll tell me everything I want to know. Everyone gives in when it becomes too much. Everyone breaks.”

She laughed, a soft, quiet sound, and then she met his eyes. Hers were blue and clear, highlighted by the flush on her cheeks. “I don’t break, Mateo. Why do you think Callahan hired me?”

“Because he wanted to own you, but right now you’re mine.”

Mine
.

The word was a bass drum in his soul, branding him somewhere deep, an irrevocable decision that felt foolish even as it solidified.

“Callahan doesn’t own me, and neither do you.” The steel was back in her voice and behind her eyes, and the challenge she posed was something no part of him could ignore.

“We’ll see.” His temper flared, but he pushed it back and locked it away. He needed to be cold, calculating, so he could do what needed to be done. With a swift tug he yanked the condom off and left it on the sheet so he could quickly do up his pants. Her muscles tensed next to him and she launched herself off the bed just as he finished the button.

Fuck she’s fast.

Mateo only caught up with her because he was so much taller and when he grabbed onto her arm she rounded on him with a solid kick to his ribs. Switching his grip he caught her leg before she could pull it back and then he yanked it high, tugging her other leg from under her so that she crashed hard to the floor. He could have eased her down, but she needed to understand that no matter how skilled she was, how fast, how smart – he was going to win.

She let out a harsh cough as she ripped air back into her lungs and he kept a hold on her calf, waiting for her to kick or react again. “You done?”

“Are you letting me go?”

He chuckled. “No.”

“Then, no, I’m not done.” The words came out rapidly and he should have been prepared for the leg sweep, but she caught him at just the right point and his leg buckled. He dropped to the floor next to her and blocked another attempt to kick him, this time narrowly avoiding singing falsetto for the next few minutes. With a curse he flipped her to her stomach and yanked her arm high on her back. The way her ass lifted, her knees spreading wide to give her balance and to ease the pressure on her shoulder, made him think of all kinds of things he’d like to do her.

Next stage
, he promised himself and hauled her off the floor.

“Do you ever get tired of fighting?” He asked with a sigh as he half-dragged and half-shoved her towards the door.

“Do you ever get tired of having a girl kick your ass?”

“I don’t know how you’re keeping score, doll face, but you have yet to kick my ass.” Nudging the wall plate aside he pressed his thumb against the scanner and the door popped open. His mind was turning over how harsh he wanted to be with the next deprivation as she muttered curses under her breath. There were options, as there were always options, but her resolve had barely flickered thus far. That meant he had to step it up, and part of him regretted that the results might mean that he’d never have a repeat of their epic fuck session.

If he broke her she’d tell him everything he needed to know, but then she’d never fight him like
that
. She’d be passive, submissive, accepting – and he liked her feisty, and irritatingly brazen.

He had navigated them on auto-pilot to the other wing of the second floor to a room that only had a push button lock on the outside. The code went in quick and he forced her inside as soon as the door popped. “Oh, so I am getting my own room? I thought I only got that if I made it to the door?” She grinned as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Going soft on me already?”

Mateo smirked before yanking her arm high on her back again, her grin collapsed into a grimace as she faced forward again. “No, C. You were always going to end up in this room. Whether or not you made it to the door just determined
how
you were going to sleep in here.”

A strange shiver moved down her spine and Camille tried her best to hide it so he couldn’t feel it through the painful tension he was keeping on her shoulder. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You’ll see,” he spoke darkly just behind her ear and her eyes immediately scoured the room. It looked too innocent. A four-poster bed in muted tones, no obvious bondage gear, with a gray accent wall behind the carved headboard. No art. No pictures. And just a single chair and desk against the opposite wall. She was pretty sure there was an en-suite bathroom to her left, but the door was closed, and soon he was pressing her forward towards the bed. If he hadn’t just fucked her she would have expected him to do it here, but with a push he released her and spoke sternly, “Get on the bed.”

“Ready for round two already?” She mocked as she turned and sat on the bed, ignoring the dull throb of her pussy and the welts across her ass.

“Later, and only after you beg me. First you have to finish this stage.” He snapped his fingers and pointed. “Now lay back.”

This stage
. Pain. Pleasure. Deprivation.

What the fuck was he going to deprive her of in this room? His delightful company? Yes, please.

Camille rolled her eyes and lay back on the bed, but he quickly repositioned her, drawing her arms straight overhead and putting her legs side by side so she was straight as a board. A moment later he walked to a small closet and returned with more of the nylon straps he’d used before. This time he threaded them through the holes in the footboard and slipped the loops over her ankles before tightening them down. As he came back towards her face she lifted her hand up to him, offering it, and he arched an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you fighting me?”

“You think this is going to break me, and instead of debating it with you I think it’s a much more effective lesson if I let you do whatever you have in mind and see for yourself that it’s not going to work. Nothing is going to work.”

The tick in his jaw was the only outward display that she was pissing him off, but as he tied her wrists down he may have tightened them just a little sharper than necessary, and her already aching wrists protested. Crouching down next to the bed she heard him slide something out and her attention zeroed in, trying to figure it out. Turning her head all she could see was his dark hair bent to whatever task had him on the floor beside the bed. There was no way for her to see it though, which made knots form in her stomach.

“Mateo?” She prompted, trying to keep her voice light.

He stood slowly, and she saw a thick blindfold in his hands. Without a word he leaned forward and slipped it over her head, adjusting it until there wasn’t a squeak of light making it past the edges. Camille swallowed as her world narrowed to the soft rustling sounds of him moving beside her, and then she felt his hands on her head again – but this time a heavy pair of headphones closed over her ears and snagged at her hair.

Silence
.

Well, not silence exactly, but she couldn’t hear Mateo anymore. The increased rate of her breathing and the spike in her pulse became the sole focus of her ears as panic flirted with her nervous system. Her hands wrapped around the nylon straps, gripping them absent-mindedly as if holding onto them would somehow center her inside the sudden black silence.

She jerked as his hands brushed her, sending hyper-sensitive chills over her skin and raising bumps that rushed down her arms. For a moment his touch was delicate, barely touching her belly, between her breasts, down her waist to her thighs and her calves, but he continued. Tracing the path over and over until her body felt like it was humming, his touch the only connection to the world around her. Just as it all began to build, to somehow urge her towards wanting him to slip his fingers inside her, he stopped and she was left hanging in space.

Her lips parted to beg when the headphone on her right ear was suddenly pulled back and the rush of white noise from the room and Mateo’s breathing filled her. He leaned close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear like a lover’s. “I hope you’re not afraid of small spaces, C, because I’m not coming back until I’ve slept, and I’m very tired.”

He let the headphone snap back over her ear, sealing her back in the silence but every nerve ending was firing with a full on red alert. Or at least she thought it was a red alert, until her body went into DEFCON-1 as she felt some kind of box laid over her. There were gaps in the top and bottom for her arms and legs to go through but if she shifted she could feel the wooden edges. When she breathed out she felt the air rebound back towards her face and knew the space above her couldn’t be more than a few inches.

Trapped
.

It was as small as a coffin, and her mind instantly tormented her with horrible images of being buried alive. In the soundless dark. Her lungs tried to clench in her chest, and she wanted to beg him not to leave her here, but that was weakness. She could
not
let him know that of everything he had done – this was the worst.

If he knew he’d just use and abuse the information until she did break. Until she told him everything, and then she
would
end up buried somewhere cold and alone.

A quiet whimper stuck in her throat as she fought herself towards silence, and she ground her teeth together until the sound of her jaw straining rebounded in her ears.

Was he still there? Standing just to her side? Or had he already left, gone to wash up, clean her juices from his skin so he could lounge and watch TV or do whatever assholes like him did while women were slowly suffocating inside tiny boxes in fancy bedrooms?

Once again time was lost to her, an old but effective torture technique, and one that wreaked a particular havoc on her because the meter of her breaths was erratic and tortured since the oxygen was being depleted with every panicked, gasping breath she dragged into her burning lungs.

How much air did she have? Was she killing herself with each hot exhalation against the wood above her?

Camille held her breath.

There was no relief. Her lungs burned, her body bowed as much as it could beneath the box, and as her breasts and knees brushed the roof of this devious personal hell-scape she released the air in a rush, choking on the sob as the sound finally tore from her lips.

No. No. No. No.

In a flicker of memory she was back inside the closet at the group home, heavy furniture being pressed up against it as a barricade so that no matter how hard she hit the door it wouldn’t budge. A long dead voice echoed inside the silence in her head, ‘
You know better, Camille. If you’re nice to us, we’re nice to you. I’ll let you think about whether or not you want to behave.
’