Chapter 7

The slick sound of the knife sliding out of flesh and howls of pain mix with the tone of an incoming text. Dropping the knife on the table beside me, I whip out my phone and turn away from a crying, pale-faced Lenny.

The pulse in my temple throbs when I see the message.

After sending a reply, I shove the slim device into my pocket and turn back to Lenny. "Looks like it's your lucky day, my friend," I comment, observing the sniveling piece of shit.

Lenny's one of River Heights's newest drug dealers who's trying to make a name for himself. So far, he's kept his business out of Slate, but I doubt that'll last long. It's rumored he's dabbling in prostitution. Except the women he's been recruiting haven"t been willing participants. Lenny also has connections, or rather the people he knows do. And those connections could include names.

As I stare at the man, I curl my lip in disgust. Streams of snot run from his nose and into his mouth, only to flow back out in a slobbering mess. His face is drained of color, probably from the copious amount of blood on the floor below him, and there's more skin covered in slash marks than there's not.

Naked except for a pair of tighty whities that aren't so white anymore and hanging from the ceiling from a rope wrapped around his wrists, Lenny looks pretty fucking pathetic, which is just the way I like him.

Correction, I'll like him even more when the pigs at the farm outside of town start chomping on his remains. Anything they don't eat, gets soaked in lye until it dissolves.

Lenny lifts his head, or rather he tries to, and looks at me with dull, bloodshot eyes. "Please, man," he whines. "I got nothin' else to give you."

I pick up a rusty flathead screwdriver and scrape it along one of the many open wounds on his stomach. "That's where you're wrong, Lenny boy. You still have plenty to give. You're still breathing, right? And I don't have the name I seek."

Before he can protest further, I stop at one of the cuts and slowly push the flathead between two ribs. Lenny thrashes and screams, trying to get away from the bite of pain, but with only the tips of his toes barely grazing the floor, he has no traction. He only manages to wiggle the tool around, making it worse.

"Regardless," I look into his shit-brown sunken eyes, "you just got a temporary reprieve. Not to worry though, I'll be back to pick up where we left off." I twist the flathead and dig it in deeper, angling it just right so I don't puncture a vital organ. I can't have Lenny dying before I get what I want. "And when I do return, I expect you to sing the fucking name I want."

I leave Lenny hanging limply by his arms, whimpers filling the room and the tool still lodged between two ribs. Kurt's standing just outside the steel door when I walk through it.

"Make sure he doesn't die," I tell him.

"You got it," the big man replies.

Not only is he Slate's head bouncer, but as an ex-Army combat medic, he knows how to patch Lenny up enough to keep him breathing.

I take the stairs from the basement of Slate to the main floor. I stop by the employee bathroom to scrub my hands before I go out the back door where my SUV is parked. Impatient to get to where I'm going, I break all kinds of traffic laws as I speed through town.

By the time I pull up to the two-story house, the sun has already set and the shadows have come out to play. I'm usually getting home around this time, so I text Cat to let her know I'll be a couple more hours.

I find the key I want, and unlock the door. The eerie silence that greets me when I push the door open would send many people scurrying away, but it only adds fuel to the fire slowly simmering inside me. The absence of any sound and the lack of light come as no surprise, since the person who lives here prefers to be in the dark anyway.

After taking off my wedding band, I drop it along with my keys and wallet on the small table beside the door. Passing the stairs leading to the second floor, I go to the kitchen. Once there, I head straight for the cabinet where the liquor is stashed and pour myself three fingers of whiskey. Tossing it back, I pour another. Twice more, I fill the glass.

As I stare out the window above the sink, I allow the effects of the alcohol to relax my tense muscles and wash away the guilt I feel.

Unclenching my hand from around the glass, I rinse it out and put it and the bottle back in the cabinet. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I ascend the stairs and walk down the dark hallway. It wouldn't matter if it was pitch black and I couldn't see anything. I could navigate the house with my eyes closed.

The closer I get to the last room at the end of the hall, the faster my blood pumps. The door is wide open when I approach, and only the moonlight shines inside the room. Across the room, fifteen feet away, is a big king-size bed, and on it is Scarlett.

My cock hardens and rubs against the seam of my slacks as I take in the woman. She wears a black lace bra that barely covers her cherry nipples and a scrap of material that hides the small patch of hair over her pussy and slides between the globes of her plump ass. Her long, raven hair with red streaks throughout falls over her shoulders and back.

She sits on the center of the mattress on her knees, her ass against her heels. Her chest juts out, her back ramrod straight, and her shoulders are squared. Her head is tilted down, her gaze on the bed before her, and her hands are palms down on her thighs. Two of her fingers, the right ring finger and the left thumb, carry silver rings. On her wrists are several wide, black leather bands. Her knees are spread about a foot apart, and if I were closer, I'd see dampness glistening on her thighs.

She is, without a doubt, a vision that would bring any man to his knees, and that includes me.

I take a couple of steps into the room and start working the buttons of my shirt through the narrow holes, before tossing the material away. My undershirt is next to come off. My hands move to the snap on my pants, but I only undo the button, leaving the zipper alone.

Scarlett doesn't move an inch, not even a hitch of breath or a flutter of her eyelashes, giving no indication that she knows I'm in the room. But she does. She always knows when I'm near.

I turn on the small lamp on the nightstand before walking to the end of the bed. I take a long moment to simply stare at her, my eyes roaming over every inch of flesh exposed.

"Come closer, Scarlett," I command.

"Yes, Sir."

My cock jerks at the sweet cadence of her voice.

Rising to her knees, she slowly shuffles forward until she's only an inch away from me, then drops her ass back to her heels. My head fills with the aroma of her intoxicating natural scent.

Her face is still bent down, blocking my view of her, which I don't like.

Wrapping my fingers around her delicate throat, I tilt her head back with my thumb. The pulse beneath my hand flutters wildly. Beautiful eyes, lined with black eyeliner and lashes thickened with mascara, stare up at me.

"You know the rules, Scarlett. Your eyes remain on me." I flex my fingers, tightening them fractionally. Her face turns a light shade of red. "You don't ever hide them from me."

Her gaze flickers with fear as she runs her tongue over her lips, but something else lies behind it. Something dark and needy. Something sinister and twisted. Something Scarlett searches for and only I can give her.

"Sorry, Sir," she whispers. "It won't happen again."

Yes, it will. Like every time I come to her, she will continue to hide her face until I demand otherwise. It's one of my rules, and she always breaks it because she loves being punished.

"Make sure you don't," I grunt, "or your punishment will be swift and not pleasant."

Again, her eyes are filled with dark anticipation. Seeing the expression has my cock jerking.

Using my hand around her neck, I pull her face closer, then drop my mouth to hers for a rough, brutal kiss. My lips slam against hers so hard I taste the coppery tang of blood seconds later. She doesn't mind. In fact, she moans and presses closer.

Yanking my mouth away from hers, I glare down at her.

"Take my cock out. I want it in your throat," I growl.

She immediately complies, reaching for the zipper before the words fully leave my lips. She's careful as she slides the metal tab down. My cock springs free, slapping against her hands, and she pushes my pants over my ass just enough so my balls hang out.

I watch as she tries to wrap her small hand around my shaft. I'm too big for her fingers to touch.

"I didn't say use your hands, Scarlett. What did I tell you?"

Lifting her head, she peeks at me through her thick lashes. "My throat," she answers, a quiver in her voice.

"Then give me your fucking throat," I hiss between my teeth, unable to conceal my anger or the unequivocal need in my tone. "And keep your hands on the bed."

My cock, already so hard I could hammer fucking nails, is angled upward, so she doesn't have to fish for it. The moment her warm breath flutters over the head, my balls draw up. The touch of her soft lips is heaven. But it's the feel of her sliding my shaft into her warm mouth and the head meeting the tightness of her throat that almost has me losing control.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I groan, baring my teeth.

Gathering her hair in one hand, I fist it in my grip and slowly slide her off my cock. When just the head is left inside, I give her no warning before I'm ramming my hips forward, wedging myself further down her tight throat. All of her oxygen is cut off, so she can't make a sound, but I feel the ripple effect of her throat convulsing as she gags. It damn near drives me mad.

Once her airway is clear, she lets out a moan of pleasure. She gets just as much pleasure, if not more, from me using her throat like a fuck toy.

With each forceful thrust, I push a little bit further down. I hold her head still, her nose smashed against my pelvic bone and her chin rests against my tight balls. Her nails dig into the comforter as her throat convulses around me. She tries to pull her head back, needing to draw in air, but I don't allow it. I smash her face against me, releasing a deep growl as the tightness nearly strangles the head of my cock.

My eyes are drawn to the layering of scars on her back. The small raised dots are no bigger than the tip of a ballpoint pen. They range in color from a light peach for the older ones to a deeper shade of red for the newer ones. All made by my hands after Scarlett begged me to give them to her.

I shouldn't be here. I should be home with Cat. My sweet, beautiful, gentle Cat.

But I'm not. I'm here. Doing something I shouldn't. Fulfilling a need that was dormant until Scarlett appeared in my life. A need that eats away tiny bits of my soul each time I'm with her. I'm a different person when I'm with this woman. The person I used to be. A person I'm not when I'm near my beautiful Cat. I hate this part of me. I hate it, but I can't help but relish in it when I'm with Scarlett.

"Enough!" I bark, yanking Scarlett's mouth away. She falls back on her ass and lifts her head, her teary eyes meeting mine. Black streaks from her mascara and eyeliner run down her cheeks. She looks so fucking beautiful it's almost painful to set my eyes on her.

Anger slithers up my spine, making my movements jerky. Scarlett looks up at me, her eyes imploring, begging for something only I can provide. The look pisses me off. My anger isn't directed at her, but at myself. I'm the one who's guilty here. Scarlett is innocent, despite the darkness that resides in her that makes her the way she is. Despite the temptation she represents. I pursued her all those years ago, not the other way around. I'm the one who gave in. I'm the one who's betraying his spouse.

Shaking my head, I push all thoughts of Cat from my mind. For this to continue, I can't think about my wife. And I want to continue this thing that Scarlett and I have. I need it like I need my next breath.

"Turn around," I tell her in a harsh tone. "Stay on your hands and knees."

She complies, presenting her ass to me, and I reward her by stroking my callused palm over her smooth cheeks. She moans and arches her back, her hair hanging over one shoulder.

Keeping my gaze on her, I raise my hand and swing it forward. I slap her right ass cheek so hard that my palm stings. It's not a love tap that a lot of couples do for sexual gratification. It's hard enough to leave an angry red handprint from just one slap. Most people would scurry away. Scarlett doesn't. She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth as her eyes light up with fire.

I slap her twice more in the same place. I glance down and see the evidence of her desire leaking from her pussy. She's so wet, the thin material covering her can't hold all of the juices, so her thighs glisten with her arousal.

Pain is what gets Scarlett off. It's what she needs. And I'm willing to give it to her because I can let out the darker side of my desires which I refuse to inflict on Cat. Mutual satisfaction.

"Tell me what you want, Scarlett," I demand, delivering another blow that has her hoarse cries filling the room. "You want more?"

"Yes," she hisses breathlessly. "I want more. I want it harder. Make me hurt, Hunter."

Gritting my teeth, I slap her other cheek. The one I've just abandoned is bright red. Her other cheek needs to match it.

As her left cheek becomes as red as her right, Scarlett pants, little sounds of pleasure coming from her parted lips. My palm stings like a bitch and my heart beats like it's trying to escape my chest.

Holding Scarlett by the waist, I pull her until her sore ass meets my hard cock. It wedges itself between the globes of her ass and the soaked material of her thong rubs against my shaft. I yank the material away, pushing it past her ass and planting the length of my cock between her cheeks.

Leaning over her back, I grip her hair and yank her head back. "Where do you want it?" I growl the question in her ear.

"My ass," she answers.

My tongue lashes with hers, craving her. I love the taste of Scarlett on my tongue. Almost as much as I love the taste of Cat.

Again, I force Cat from my mind. It's wrong of me to think of one woman while I'm with another.

Leaning away from Scarlett, I grab the base of my cock and angle the leaking tip at her entrance, sliding it through the juices seeping from her.

Scarlett tries to buck her hips, but I keep her in place by wrapping my hand around her waist, digging my fingers into her flesh. "Stay still," I bark.

"Not there," she begs, looking at me over her shoulder.

"I'll take you however I want, Scarlett. In this, you have no choice."

Tears appear in her eyes, and I almost stop. The nature of our relationship is purely sexual. Despite my feelings for the woman, emotions have no place here. Showing any form of affection will push Scarlett away, and I refuse to give up my time with her.

So, I harden my resolve and push forward, sliding in every fucking inch until I can't go any further. The tight grip of her has me throwing my head back and hissing out a breath between my clenched teeth.

Fucking hell, she's unbelievably tight and feels so goddamn good.

Scarlett cries out, trying to shift her body forward to dislodge my cock. I keep her in place. Ignoring the pleas leaving her lips, I hold her still and fuck her hard and deep. Sliding out to the tip, I hammer back inside until her snug heat envelopes me.

The utter pain in her expression has me closing my eyes and blocking out her whimpers. Taking her the way I am isn't what she wants, but I'll be damned if I give in. This is what I need to give her what she needs.

I slow my movements and pray for patience and the strength to keep my release at bay. Scarlett may bristle and abhor me taking her pussy, but her body can't lie. She gets wetter and tighter the longer I'm inside her.

After several minutes, I can't take the sound of her low cries anymore, so I reluctantly pull from her warm sheath. She relaxes when she feels the broad head of my cock at her other hole. Her scrunched expression smooths out and she lets out a sigh of relief.

With my hands around Scarlett's waist, I ram my hips forward, not giving her time to adjust to my size. A sharp pain licks up my spine as I force my cock against such unprepared tight muscles. The only form of lubrication Scarlett allows is what I get from fucking her pussy, which still isn't enough to slide inside her with ease.

Scarlett's sudden cry is filled with pain and my soul shrivels just a little. Within seconds, I hear a low moan and her hips shove back against me, silently demanding more. I've never been able to deny her anything.

"Is this what you wanted?" My voice is deep, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "To force you? To hurt you? To rip you from the inside" She doesn't respond. "Answer me, goddammit!"

"Yes!" she shouts. She fists the blankets and meets every thrust with ferocity. "Make it hurt!"

"I fucking hate you for this," I growl, digging my fingers into her flesh so hard it'll leave marks behind. When I pull back, the wetness coating my cock is tinted pink with blood. "I hate you for making me like this."

I don't hate her. What I feel for Scarlett is anything but hate. What I hate is myself for needing her so much. For needing to give us both what we crave. For putting us in this situation we're in. I should have told her no the first time I met her. I should have been strong enough to stay away from her after the first depraved time I fucked her. But she's become an addiction I can't break.

I take her ass with no mercy, forcing my cock in and out of her tight muscles. When I feel her tighten even further around me, I pull my cock free. Before she can protest, I flip her to her back. After shoving my pants off the rest of the way, along with my socks and shoes, I latch my hands around her thighs and lift her hips, ramming my cock back inside her ass.

She moans loudly, her mouth dropping open in ecstasy, her eyes glazing over, as if having me in her ass is the best thing she's ever felt. Despite knowing damn well that my roughness hurts her, she doesn't show it. Instead, she fucking loves it.

I hold still and wait for her eyes to meet mine. Only then do I drop forward, wrapping my fingers around her neck. Her eyes bulge and her face turns a deep shade of red when I tighten my fingers, cutting off most of her oxygen. She can still breathe, but only barely. Her tongue pops out, running across her plump lips, the only indication she's still enjoying what I'm doing.

My hips hit the back of her thighs. Only my grip on her throat prevents Scarlett from sliding up the bed with my forceful thrusts. Her nails dig into my forearms and her legs tighten around my waist.

I push my face closer to hers. "Goddamn you," I seethe heatedly.

When I recognize the glazed look in her eyes that tells me she's about to pass out at any second, I release her neck. I don't give her a chance to catch her breath before my lips seal over hers. I force my tongue into her mouth, and she meets my kiss with a passion I've only ever felt with Scarlett.

Snaking my arm between her back and the mattress, I lift the bottom half of her body and grind my hips downward, hitting a spot within Scarlett that has the muscles in her ass clamping down on me as she releases a loud shout. Her release is too much for me, and I find my own. My cock erupts, spurting jet after jet of cum deep inside her.