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    His Devil's Desire
    His Devil's Desire
    His Devil's Desire
    Ebook371 pages5 hours

    His Devil's Desire

    By Linzi Basset

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    About this ebook

    TOP SHELF INDIE BOOK AWARD NOMINEE 2019
    GOLDEN FLOGGER NOMINEE 2018

    “Why do I get the feeling that you’re indulging me, Samantha?”
    Her eyes widened innocently. “Me, indulge you? You should be so lucky. Oh no, this is all self-indulgence.”

    Rhone has ducked trouble many times. As an undercover agent, you see a lot of shit. But this time trouble came wrapped up in an alluringly seductive package.

    Samantha Frazer.

    She's good with her hands . . . er, at carving wood. She's even better with her mouth . . . huh . . . snippy little thing. Also, her aim is dead centre. She's gunning for his heart, in more ways than one.

    From the moment Samantha lays eyes on . . . um . . . all of him, she's hooked. Rhone Greer is mouth-watering. He's also one of the owners of Club Devil’s Cove and the most compelling Dom she’d ever met. He's hot, controlling and hungry . . . for her. Desire and manipulation make strange bed partners as Rhome and Samantha combust between the sheets.

    The game is on. Who will bite? Who’ll get devoured?

    Unbeknownst, a sinister plot is underfoot and everyone is a target. As ghosts from the past resurface, there is only one question to be asked.

    Who will live . . . who will die?

    NOTE: This book ends in a cliffhanger that will be concluded in Book 2.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLinzi Basset
    Release dateSep 25, 2020
    ISBN9781005487362
    His Devil's Desire
    Author

    Linzi Basset

    “Isn’t it a universal truth that it’s our singular experiences and passion, for whatever thing or things, which molds us all into the individuals we become? Whether it's hidden in the depths of our soul or exposed for all to see?” Linzi Basset is a South African born animal rights supporter with a poet’s heart, and she is also a bestselling fiction writer of suspense filled romance erotica books; who as the latter, refuses to be bound to any one sub-genre. She prefers instead to stretch herself as a storyteller which has resulted in her researching and writing historical and even paranormal themed works. Her initial offering: Club Alpha Cove, a BDSM club suspense series released back in 2015, reached Amazon’s Bestseller list, and she has been on those lists ever since. Labelling her as prolific is a gross understatement as just a few short years later she has now been published forty-one times; a total which fails to take into account the three other published works of her alter ego: Isabel James who co-authors—nor does it include the five additional new works marked for imminent release. “I write from the inside out. My stories are both inside me and a part of me so it can be either pleasurable to release them or painful to carve them out. I live every moment of every story I write. So, if you're looking for spicy and suspenseful, I'm your girl... woman... writer... you know what I mean!" Linzi believes that by telling stories in her own voice, she can better share with her readers the essence of her being: her passionate nature; her motivations; and her wildest fantasies. She feels every touch as she writes, every kiss, every harsh word uttered, and this to her is the key to a never-ending love of writing. Ultimately, all books by Linzi Basset are about passion. To her, passion is the driving force of all emotion; whether it be lust, desire, hate, trust, or love. This is the underlying message contained in her books. Her advice: “Believe in the passions driving your desires; live them; enjoy them; and allow them to bring you happiness.” Follow Linzi everywhere: https://linktr.ee/LinziBasset

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      Book preview

      His Devil's Desire - Linzi Basset

      Preface

      A picture containing clipart Description generated with very high confidence

      HIS DEVIL'S DESIRE

      Club Devil's Cove Series - Book 1

      The series you've all been waiting for. Rhone & Keon's story.

      ​Club Devil’s Cove is located on the secluded, private estate of Rhone Greer, in Washington DC. His best friend Keon LeLuc is a co-owner and together they’ve built a BDSM club to offer a safe and secure environment for its members to practice their kink.

      In this series we meet Rhone and Keon’s friends, Jack Blackmore, Max Shaw, Lance Talbot, and Ethan Brodie, who under the disguise of their company Precision Secure, run undercover operations for the President of the United States. Along the way we meet their governor friend, Alex White, Mistress Pamela Seeger, who is in charge of the club’s legal aspects, war veteran Richard Almer, and the Club Manager, Wade Moore—all powerful Dominants.

      In this take-no-prisoner series of suspense novels, we come to know each of the Senior Masters - big, dominant men and their strong, sassy women, along with their kinks; who you will either love or hate, as they carry on with their lives and fight against the pernicious grasp of crime syndicates, corruption, death and violence they are exposed to. And let’s not forget love and finding their happy ever after.

      Author’s Note

      A picture containing clipart Description generated with very high confidence

      Dear Reader,

      Club Devil’s Cove is a spin-off from Club Alpha Cove, featuring the powerful brothers of Ruark Greer and Bracus LeLuc, Rhone Greer and Keon LeLuc.

      Please note that books 1 & 2 must be read in sequence. Although the rest are written as alone standing novels, to obtain the best experience of all the protagonists involved in the series, they should ideally be read in order.

      His Devil’s Desire, Book 1, is about Rhone Greer and his sassy sub, Samantha Frazer, or Ace, her codename as a sniper.

      Why do I get the feeling that you’re indulging me, Samantha?

      Her eyes widened innocently. Me, indulge you? You should be so lucky. Oh no, this is all self-indulgence.

      Rhone has ducked trouble many times. As an undercover agent, you see a lot of shit. But this time trouble came wrapped up in an alluringly seductive package.

      Samantha Frazer.

      She’s good with her hands ... er, at carving wood. She’s even better with her mouth ... huh ... snippy little thing. Also, her aim is dead centre. She’s gunning for his heart, in more ways than one.

      From the moment Samantha lays eyes on ... um ... all of him, she is hooked. Rhone Greer is mouth-watering. He’s also one of the owners of Club Devil’s Cove and the most compelling Dom she’d ever met. He’s hot, controlling, and hungry ... for her. Lust and manipulation make strange bed partners as Rhone and Samantha combust between the sheets.

      The game is on. Who will bite? Who’ll get devoured?

      Unbeknownst, a sinister plot is underfoot, and everyone is a target. As ghosts from the past resurface, there is only one question to be asked.

      Who will live ... who will die?

      Please Note: This book ends in a cliffhanger.

      I hope you’ll enjoy Rhone and Samantha’s story as much as I did creating it.

      Best regards

      Linzi Basset

      Dictionary

      Assez   - Enough

      Ce n'est pas sur - It’s not right

      Fils de pute  - Son of a bitch

      Imbécile   -  Fool

      Je vais    -  I will

      Ma petite femme  -  My little lady

      Medre    - Fuck or shit

      Mon amour  - My love

      Mon Dieu   -  My God

      Mon Petit   -  Little one

      Mois, je vous dis  -  Months, I tell you

      Non    -  No

      Oui     -  Yes

      Pour l'amour de Dieu  - For god sake

      Rapidement  -  Quickly

      Tais-toi  - Be quiet

      Tu connard  - You asshole

      Tu me gonfles - You’re pissing me off

      Tu vas bien  - You okay

      Vraiment  - Really

      Prologue

      A picture containing clipart Description generated with very high confidence

      6 Years Ago ...

      Being an assassin in the Kill Squad for the CIA had its perks—a new city every week, casual hotel life, with no dishes or chores, new clothes every day. Although, she donated the old ones to charity or the homeless. She chuckled.

      Yep, there are some finely dressed homeless walking around all over.

      Ace—her code name, of course—swallowed a gulp of double espresso and browsed the newspaper. She had an hour before her next job officially began, or rather, until she received the target’s identity. It was how she operated. She didn’t want to know anything about them. She only needed their location to set shop and take the shot. She left the planning to the operations team.

      What they didn’t realize was that she always double checked everything. She wasn’t a fool to leave her life in other’s hands.

      She’d learned early on to maintain a cool detachment from her targets. Mostly, she tried not to think of them at all, but when she did, it was with indifference; like they were already dead. She thought of them as meeting their destiny and she was merely the conduit. Everyone had to die sometime, and most of her targets got off easy considering the lives they’d lived. The way they’d made others suffer—they shouldn’t go from happy and oblivious one second, to dead the next. Simple. Convenient. Painless. No, most of them should be put through Hell’s fire.

      She'd barely raised the cup when her phone beeped.

      Damn! Trust Bulldog to be early! She snorted reading the text message. Her targets were already on the way. She frowned. No one had informed her there would be two targets. Ace hated surprises. She punched a reply and sent it, tapping her fingers on the table waiting for a response. In true Bulldog manner, it was curt and to the point.

      Be ready. Price is double. Lock and load, Ace. They’ll be there in thirty minutes. I’ll send the photo in twenty.

      Leaving a perfectly good cup of coffee on the table offended her morals. So, she gulped down the rest and paid the bill.

      The breakfast is on me, she told the server who protested her leaving without eating her food.

      Within fifteen minutes she was in position on the rooftop of the Hilton Hotel. Her targets were to arrive at the apartment building across the street. She perused the street and nearby rooftops through the telescope of her XS1 TrackingPoint sniper; the best and the most accurate one in the market. It was early morning and apart from the hum of the traffic below, it was quiet so high up. Everything seemed in order. Ace sat with her back against the wall and waited for Bulldog, her handler, to send her the photo of the targets.

      No one who’d met her would believe she executed people for a living. Most definitely not at twenty-six years of age. She was as agile as an Olympic gymnast, and just as fast. When she’d embarked on her career, she hadn't been in a sound frame of mind, and they had used her vulnerability to recruit her. Of late, she’d come to realize it wasn’t the right choice for her. Her questionable career choices didn’t reflect in her personal life, which was pretty low-key.

      She was efficient at her job. Instead of dispatching paperwork and emails, she dispatched people to whatever came after life; but only the ones who had it coming. Only those who posed danger to the people of this country; or that’s what she kept telling herself to keep going.

      The photo arrived seconds before the limo came around the corner. Ace settled behind the rifle. Her lips pursed in an annoyed pout.

      What danger could such a beautiful woman pose to the country? Or is this another one of Bulldog’s own vendettas he’s got me taking care of again?

      Ace had become uncomfortable with her assignments of late. The last two jobs just hadn’t felt right. This one smelled foul as well.

      Her mark stepped out from the black limousine, her curly brown hair falling in soft layers around bare shoulders. She had the right physique and the right hair, but Ace would have to wait for her to turn to get a positive I.D. of the face. She never assumed anything in this line of work. A loud siren drew the woman’s attention, and she turned around. Ace froze and then her finger relaxed on the trigger. She drew a ragged breath, staring at the child the woman held in her arms. She looked at the picture again.

      The little girl ... no, she can’t be the second target. She sat frozen in shock, staring at the picture.

      Fuck you, Bulldog. I’m done doing your dirty work, she growled. Her actions were methodical as she began disassembling her firearm. This was where she drew the line—killing innocent women and children. There was no way that innocent little girl could’ve done any wrong. She was barely six years of age, if that much.

      Ace wasn’t heartless. She didn’t kill for the joy of it. She did if for protecting the innocent. The only time she had done it for revenge had been the very first time—for her family.

      Bulldog’s voice crackled over her earpiece. Shoot! What are you waiting for?

      He had a direct link-up to her earpiece and was probably in the ops control room watching the scene via satellite, but she ignored him and detached the magazine from the sniper.

      Then all hell broke loose. Ping! Ping! She heard the shots and picked up her firearm to peer through the scope. She spied another shooter on an adjacent roof, taking shots at the mother and child. She jammed the magazine back into the rifle and took aim. When she squeezed the trigger, she knew she’d killed the shooter on the other roof, even before the bullet hit him.

      She looked back to the limo below and froze. The young woman was lying in a pool of blood on the black tarred road. The white frilly dress of the little girl she was slumped over was tainted red. There was no movement apart from a large man who was screaming and running toward the limo, closely followed by another. More shots were fired. Samantha aimed her rifle at the window of yet another building, where the shots were coming from this time. She released a folly of bullets in that direction.

      Ace! What the fuck are you doing? Get your target. Now!

      Target is already dead, she snapped into the mouthpiece.

      Get the fucktards trying to get to the limo. They are not to reach that child! Ace, I gave you an order! Bulldog snarled in her ear.

      Fuck your order. This is bullshit, Bulldog! Fucking bullshit and you know it! Who the fuck are these people?

      It doesn’t matter. Do what you get paid for! Shoot those fuckers! he screamed into her ear.

      You know what? she said with a calmness that belied the trembling of her hands. She’d almost done something she would never be able to live with. Kill an innocent woman and child. Had she not waited for her to turn ... Do your own fucking dirty work. I quit!

      She took one final look down to the street. She caught the big man’s gaze, who was kneeling by the body of the bloodied woman. He probably saw a dark figure in a cap and a sniper rifle in hand. He didn’t know that she had tried to save them.

      She saw him scream at her. It was too far to hear but in her mind, she knew what he said. I will find you, fucker! You will pay for their deaths!

      Ping! Ping!

      Two more shots fired in quick succession. The force of the bullet, impacting his chest, threw him back at the same time the man running toward him went down from a hit. Ace found the third sniper and this time took careful aim. Her bullet hit him dead center.

      The sirens and screeching tires of police vehicles came around the corner and spurred her into action. She picked up her duffel bag and ran, disassembling her rifle at the same time.

      Ace was always prepared for the unexpected. She’d just locked the gun away in a secret compartment and jumped under the shower of the room in the Hilton Hotel she’d rented two days prior, when there was hammering on the door.

      The police officer searching the rooms on the floor for a runaway assassin was disarmed when a petite, blonde woman wrapped in a small white towel, dripping wet, answered the door.

      Chapter One

      A picture containing clipart Description generated with very high confidence

      Current day ...

      CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

      What the fuck! Rhone Greer jerked awake and looked around. He could see the horizon, turning a deep charcoal in preparation for the upcoming dawn through the bedroom window.

      RIZZZ! RIZZZ!

      Someone is gonna get it from me today! He muttered as he untangled himself from the woman who was wrapped around him like a limp noodle. He frowned at her, distinctly remembering that he’d told her to go home after he’d satisfied his lusts the night before.

      I hope it’s not a sign of a problem, he mumbled, highly annoyed.

      THUMB! THUMB! WHER. WHER. RIZZZZ!

      He stomped down the stairs and stalked toward the large building a few yards from the house.

      Club Devil’s Cove. The new BDSM club he and Keon LeLuc were in the process of having built on his secluded property on a Washington hillside. He and Ruark had purchased this piece of land from the Government after they’d seized it. Initially, he’d received the property from a Mexican crime lord as payment for a job he’d done. Of course, he hadn’t known that Rhone had been working for the Government as part of a deep undercover operation at the time.

      Jesus, it’s five in the fucking morning, he grumbled as he crossed the foyer, which was already finished. It looked welcoming with a dark wooden reception desk and burgundy leather sofas that contrasted in a wicked way with the exposed stone walls. The light sconces against the walls added an extra depth of warmth and mystery to the room.

      Another clank and whir sound rang through his head, which spurred him through the carved wooden doorway leading into a large entertainment area. It was a massive room with one entire wall of windows facing the city in the distance. At night, the view was magnificent. Especially from the wide patio that stretched along the length of the building.

      The area would cater to members who wished to lounge around and just relax on the one side and an open restaurant on the other, with a raised dance floor in the corner. On the far side there was a similarly carved doorway leading to a landing, where a door opened into his well-stocked wine cellar and another disguised behind the stone wall, which was only accessible with fingerprint scan hidden behind the light fixture on the wall.

      My wine had better survive this upheaval, he grunted as he looked around.

      The bar was in the process of being built. Similar to the one Colt Fargo and Nolan Shaffer had done recently when they’d renovated their club, Wicked Cove. Only this one was twice the size. It was a heavy wooden bar that stretched the entire one side of the room. It was also the origin of all the noise.

      His bare feet carried him to the far end of the counter, the sound growing louder, and his hung-over head thumped painfully.

      The carpenter, Dave Collins, was busy with a saw, cutting a rounded edge into the wood. His denim overalls were covered in sawdust, as well as the bright red cap on his head.

      When he lifted the saw again, Rhone yanked the cord from the wall.

      Now what?

      Rhone frowned. That didn’t sound like Dave Collins’ usually deep and gruff voice.

      Now you stop this goddamned noise. That’s what, he growled irritably. Do you have any idea what the fucking time is?

      The body in front of him froze before slowly rising. The narrow shoulders straightened visibly before he turned to face Rhone while yanking off the protective goggles from his face. The cap fell from his head at the same time, allowing a glorious tumble of golden curls loose. Not Dave Collins.

      Well, I’ll be damned. Who are you and where is Dave? He was too irritated to allow a pretty blonde, with a cleavage of note and rounded breasts glimmering enticingly in a thin layer of sweat sway him.

      Samantha Frazer, she snapped through thinly pressed lips. Moments before they had been rosy and pouty.

      Samantha stared in fascination as his one eyebrow arched, doing a slow sweep over her body. For one thing, it kept her eyes from wandering lower. That first glance had been enough to make her stomach do a somersault or two and set her libido into super drive.

      As in Woodcraft Carpentry?

      Yes. Look, I apologize for the early hour but—

      But nothing. No normal human being is awake at this time of day. What happened to normal work hours?

      She visually sizzled with annoyance.

      Look, mister, you’re the one who changed your specifications for the bar at the last minute. So, if you want it finished in time—

      No, you look here, little snip, when I requested the changes I was assured it wouldn’t be a problem. I sure as hell didn’t expect to be startled awake by that god-awful noise you’re making, he growled.

      Samantha stared at the flashing silver sparks in his eyes. She wondered what he would be like when he was really angry.

      Clive should never have committed to such a ridiculous timeframe, nor should you have had the audacity to demand it, for that matter.

      She refused to be intimidated by the formidable man looming over her. Although, her hands were suddenly sweaty, and her clit was throbbing, escalating with every glance toward his wide, perfectly muscled chest, washboard abs and ... oh man, she drew in a ragged breath when she couldn’t keep herself from taking another peek further down.

      "I don’t give a fuck who did what. Not another single sound, woman, until sunrise."

      "You know, bucko, you should be careful about yapping so disrespectfully. Especially to a woman with a saw in her hands and your ... dangling bits so invitingly presented. My hands might just slip ..."

      Belatedly, Rhone glanced down. He was naked as a jaybird. His cock, the rowdy bastard, was half-mast in reaction to the enticing little chit in front of him.

      He never could resist a blonde and she had a dewy look that made him want to take a nip out of her rosy cheeks that elevated her heart shaped face.

      You shouldn’t have done that, my pet, he said with a sexy grin that made Samantha’s toes curl in her boots.

      She cleared her throat and kept her tongue from swiping the drool in her cupid-shaped mouth.

      Done what? Her eyes widened when he walked closer, his ‘devil eyes’ sparkling with lustful intent.

      Samantha had been a submissive at Club Pearl in upper Washington DC for close to five years. She recognized the signs. In front of her, stood one of the most compelling Doms she’d ever come across. He was power personified—in every inch of his tall frame.

      Reminded me that I’m naked. Now, you’re just gonna have to face the consequences, he said and before she realized his intent, he took the saw from her hands. She heard the machine clatter to the thick wooden floor but didn’t flinch. Her almond-shaped eyes were riveted on the man who now stood pressed against her front. His heat seared her skin through her denim overalls.

      My negligence? I’ll have you know ... mmm—

      His lips caught her unawares and her snippy remark got swallowed by his mouth taking possession of hers. Every sweep of his tongue against her palate, the insides of her cheeks, was demanding. She found herself responding with as much fervor.

      Samantha moaned when she felt his shaft hardening against her stomach. She gulped at the size of the cock that was pressing into her soft belly. Her clit sizzled when he slowly licked her bottom lip.

      His arms tightened around her to lift her until his cock was pressed between her legs. With a growl, he began to rock his length back and forth, the friction against her clit had her whimpering in need in tune with every motion.

      Now, my pet, if you were to drop those ugly pants and let me in, I might just forgive your early intrusion, he growled against her throat.

      Samantha went stiff as an iron board in his arms. His sigh rippled from his chest when she struggled against him.

      Lemme go, you big ... big ...

      Cock? He didn’t hide his amusement at her flustered look. Want to know a secret? She glared at him with blown-up cheeks. "I’ll just tell you anyway ... for future reference. This, Samantha Frazer, his voice lowered as he pressed his cock hard against her clitoris. isn’t even fully aroused."

      You ... get away from me, she ordered, becoming more ruffled by the minute. She could feel her cheeks blooming, spurred on by the arousal which was now throbbing inside her loins.

      His eyes darkened. He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed, forcing her chin higher. Her amber eyes flashed golden sparks at him.

      "I can smell your arousal, Samantha, so don’t pretend. Don’t ever pretend about your feelings to me, is that understood?" His voice grated through clenched teeth. His scratchy voice resonated deep inside her to tickle awake her submissive nature. She recognized the promise of a future alliance in his words.

      I understand, she said, swallowing hard as his fingers tightened.

      Open your overalls for me, my pet. I want to at least feel your heat.

      Samantha didn’t think to deny him and fiddled with the zipper of her pants. Her head fell back with her lips forming a round, "Oh," the moment his large hand trailed over her stomach to find her pulsing clit for a brief pat. His aim—her moist slit which he found with one accurate sweep of his fingers, before lasciviously pushing two digits deep inside her pussy.

      "Ah, just as I’d suspected. Hot, wet, and so fucking tight," Rhone growled in her ear.

      She clawed at his rippling shoulders and couldn’t keep her hips from doing a wild orbit against his hand when he began to pump his fingers inside her. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she tried to contain her carnal growl which was threatening to escape from the back of her throat.

      No, you don’t. If you deny me the pleasure, you don’t get to come off my hand either.

      Samantha moaned and her pussy felt bereft when he withdrew his thick fingers. She shivered when he stepped back, suddenly cold from the loss of his body heat against hers.

      Rhone watched her through half-lidded eyes as he slowly licked his fingers clean. Her gaze was glued to his tongue lapping up her essence from his fingers. Her clit throbbed in reaction when he sucked the tip of his finger clean, and her pussy wept as he curled his tongue around the other. She could almost feel every sweep of his tongue inside the silken folds of her pussy.

      The glint in his eyes was more than just lust. It was a warning of intent. His guttural promise triggered a shiver of anticipation to shimmy down her spine.

      Soon, Samantha Frazer, you’ll be screaming my name as you climax, with my cock buried deep in your pussy, and then ... in your ass.

      Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she watched him saunter through the doorway. Her mouth watered as his natural swagger caused the muscles in his back and flanks to ripple with every step he took. Not to mention his steel buns, which she was tempted to bite into. The way he moved made her think of a warrior—not a hardened one though, although, she’d heard the rumors of how unapproachable Rhone Greer was. No, she’d detected gentleness in his searing eyes. Well hidden, maybe; but it had shone through the moment he’d lifted his head after that panty-melting kiss.

      "My, oh my. I’ve never seen a man this seductive without even trying." Samantha croaked. She picked up a brush to sweep the sawdust off from the creases she’d carved into the wood.

      The man was devastatingly handsome. "Yeah, and he fucking knows. That bed-head, raven-black hair with silver streaks on the side, gave him a rugged look. Man! Why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut? She berated herself. At least my entire body wouldn’t be throbbing with the need to come now." She sighed at a loss once again.

      Oh, and one more thing, Samantha.

      Her head snapped up to find Rhone leaning his shoulder against the doorway, watching her unblinking. His cock was still aroused and bobbed in a pendulous arc when he straightened.

      I don’t like other cocks where I aim to be soon. So, be warned. Keep that pussy chaste from now on, until I say otherwise. His gray eyes roamed over her from head to toe once again, before he turned and sauntered off, leaving her drooling over his buns.

      Like hell I will, she snapped once she was sure he’d left this time, with the click of the front door.

      And just for good measure, she plugged in the saw and the satisfying, WHER! WHER! RIZZZ, echoed loudly in the large room.

      Rhone chuckled as he heard the noise follow him all the way inside his house.

      I’m going to have loads of fun taming that little firebrand, he said to himself as he began brewing some coffee.

      What little firebrand? Why did you leave the bed so early, Master? A sultry voice asked from the kitchen door.

      Rhone glanced toward the dark-haired woman walking closer—as naked as him. Her eyes began to glint with lust when she noticed his arousal. He racked his brain for her name. It surprised him that he’d woken up with a woman in his bed. He never brought women to his house.

      Master? I think you’re confusing me with someone else. And what are you still doing here? I told you to leave last night, Rhone snapped. He almost groaned out loud when she visibly shrank in front of his eyes; total opposite to the little snip working on his bar counter.

      His memory slipped into place as he recalled the doorbell ringing and this woman; bedraggled and wet from the rain, standing there, distressed that her car had broken down just up the street. He’d offered to phone a towing service, but the storm had left him no choice but to invite her in. It became clear the moment she’d stepped inside that her story had been a lie. That she’d deliberately invaded his house to get to him. He’d been completely sloshed by then. He always was, on the 2nd of August. The only cure, for the mistake he’d been unable to bury, for the past six years. It hadn’t taken much to convince him to fuck her.

      But we had such a good time and you are a Dom, Master Razor. I told you last night I’d be your slave. Please don’t make me leave.

      Fuck me. I don’t have the strength for shit like this.

      His gray eyes glinted; cold and metallic as he shot an icy look her way. The sclerae surrounding them were pristine, untouched by any sign of redness.

      Leave, Vanessa. And don’t darken my door again with blatant lies. No, you don’t get to talk now. I don’t have time for games; least of all, deceptive women, which you have proved to be. Get your clothes and get out.

      But how ... I don’t have a car, she stammered, but started retreating to the door anyway, weary of his anger.

      "Another lie. I’m calling a cab. You have five minutes. Don’t waste them. I

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