Chapter 13

Easton

Sara jerked up from behind my desk, her breathing immediately ragged, her lower lip quivering. She was stiff as she walked to the front, her eyes darting back and forth. The slight hint of fear was beguiling in a way that truly highlighted what a bad man I was.

A part of me had expected that my beautiful guest would find certain locations in my house far too much of a draw to ignore.

Especially my office where I'd spanked and fucked her.

I glanced around the room, noticing one of my books was slightly pulled from its position. As I walked closer, I heard her tiny gasping breath, horrified that she'd been caught not just in my office but touching my things.

When I pulled the chosen how-to book from its place, my cock immediately hardened. "Blood splatters. An excellent choice. Did you know most crime novelists get it wrong when they write a scene? They assume either too little or too much depending on what they use to kill their victims. Even television shows with all the experts rarely get it right. I can tell details are as important to you as they are to me. Yes?"

"Yes, sir."

The two little words were little more than whispers, but I could not only hear but feel her reverence regarding the very books I so adored having in my collection. I replaced it into the slot, pushing it so all the edges were even before turning toward her.

An even larger part had hoped she'd do so. I wanted her boundaries pushed just a little from the very beginning, to be unsure whether she could trust me or her instincts. I also wanted her to enjoy being considered my captive for a little while.

If only metaphorically speaking.

I'd wanted to be here when she'd arrived, but I'd met with my brothers again upon Creed's rather urgent call. The unplanned meeting had kept me away for longer than I'd anticipated. The reason shouldn't have put the fear of God into Creed, but it had. We were all used to threats being made. It was a product of our world, not just with being a powerful mafia regime, but given our wealth and the legitimate industry we continued to rule.

However, the tone of the threat had been different. Even I had to admit that. It had also been calculated, and to my mind, had been directed more at me than the other two, although I could be wrong. We were all prodigal children in one or another regard. We'd excelled in spite of our tumultuous upbringing, our IQs close to one eighty. We all had photographic minds and my brothers' musical talents could rival any top musician in the world.

I'd been the only one to laugh after reading it.

Only in the darkness will you understand the patience needed for acting on the sheer salvation of revenge. Be patient, grasshoppers. Your time is near.

I hadn't been certain whether to call the words in bold, yet childish red writing sent in a black envelope to our corporate office poetic or not. But when I'd laughed, my two brothers had looked at me as if I was out of my mind.

Well, if any of us were evaluated by a psychiatrist we stood the chance of being labeled as such. However, I gathered the meaning as well as the fact the person responsible was laughing his or her ass off.

The threat was much simpler than the note might imply. Someone was waiting in the shadows and had done so for a long time, preparing for the right moment to strike. And they would do so when we least expected it.

We'd spend three hours going over a list of possible enemies from our previous clients, those expelled for disloyalty, former employees, and even world organizations and governments. No particular person came to mind, at least not one we could agree on. While the stamp indicated the note had been sent from Chicago, in this day and age of being able to fabricate just about anything, one could easily disguise the actual location where it had been originally sent from.

That realization was one of the main reasons the warning troubled me. At this point my methods of operation, including personally, had just been altered. Or at least would need to be. Whether or not I indulged in carnal activities with Sara wouldn't matter to the person or group who'd sent the threat. She would be seen as a way of getting to me, of taking something that belonged to me that might mean something.

Did I want the son of a bitch responsible to feel as if he'd won some round in an undisclosed battle? Fuck, no. I would do what I wanted but proceed with caution.

Besides, if anyone knew the three of us and our level of wealth, they were well aware that our possessions were little more than toys. As a child would do, once the toys were broken, they were tossed aside, our eagerness for another ever present. Thankfully, my two brothers had done their best at keeping their wives and families out of the limelight and press for the most part.

That had added to our reputation, which had yet to be dispelled.

Sara stood silently, her body slightly swaying as if I'd caught her with her fingers in the cookie jar. In some respects, that's exactly what had just occurred. Her silence had allowed me to slide between the cracks in her armor, even catching a single glimpse of her soul.

"I asked you a question, Sara. When I do, I expect an answer. Why did you feel it was necessary to invade my private space?"

She dragged just the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip and all I could think about was sucking on the soft flesh before crushing my mouth over hers. When she looked away, more nervous than I'd ever seen her, I felt somewhat protective of her. That was just another oddity in so many of them.

"Because I didn't know any room was off limits. Because I've been in here before. Because…"

I could tell instantly what she was thinking. Because we'd been intimate. I walked closer, crowding her space, gathering a whiff of her delightful perfume. "Look at me, Sara."

She looked away at first.

My voice was commanding, unforgiving and she finally obeyed without me telling her again, which pleased me very much. "You are in my house. You will follow my rules. What occurred between us the other night was…"

"Unacceptable," she whispered, keeping her eyes locked on mine.

"Unavoidable but inconvenient." And deliriously tasty. Or maybe I should advise her that our carnal act had just been the beginning. As I lifted my arm, she continued watching me as I curled my fingers, rubbing my knuckles down the side of her face. She shivered as she'd done with me before, slightly out of fear but more from the crackling electricity oozing from our pores. I lowered my head and to her credit and my disapproval, she turned hers away, likely fearful I was going to kiss her.

Which I had wanted.

That would come soon enough when I began her true formal training.

But right now, I was more interested in her mind, in her ability to break through mental barriers to find the dark girl nestled in a box she'd padlocked. The why and when was just another delightful mystery to solve.

I moved away, taking my time to head behind my desk where I stood looking at the window onto my massive grounds. "Do you know why readers indulge in books of fantasy?"

"To escape."

Her answer was instantaneous. "And what else? Dig deeper."

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "Because they need to taste what it feels like to cross the line between good and evil."

"Very nice. Exactly what I was looking for. I knew you were the right one." I turned to face her, very pleased and knowing she could easily become my disciple. "I think it's time I explain the rules, more so than I have before. Don't you?"

"Perhaps that would be a good idea, so I don't step on your toes again."

The same defiant voice I'd heard in the diner had returned. My cock twitched from hearing it.

I moved to my desk, taking a few seconds to sit down. As I leaned back, she inched closer to the edge of my desk, studying me more intently. "This is my haven, a room where I can feel free to be the man I've always been. When I'm in here, other than if and when I call you in for our daily discussions, you are not to interrupt me under any circumstances. However, when I am absent, you may feel free to indulge your obvious interest in murder and other crimes. In fact, I encourage it. The bookshelves inside this room are available for your use, but nothing else inside this room. Is that understood?"

She held a tough girl glare but nodded in resignation.

"Good girl. These books have taught me much over the years, helping with the writing I've done. I'm certain they will be of use to you as well."

"Why, thank you. Sir." She said the last word as almost an afterthought, her eyes still questioning mine, the same defiance lacing them.

"You are allowed to walk the grounds, but between seven in the morning and five in the evening, you are not to leave my estate without my permission. You will not be out with friends late at night, nor will you be allowed to bring a… boy or any of your friends into my home. You will follow my lead, performing the exercises I require, and I will delve deeply into that beautiful brain of yours. I will push you. I will try you. I will anger you. But in the end, I will free you."

She half smiled, nodding as if accepting what I'd told her. "I have no boyfriends, so you don't need to worry."

That was certainly good to hear.

"Failure to follow any of my rules will result in harsh consequences. Do I make myself clear, sweet Sara?"

"Yes, sir. You do. I am curious. Am I allowed to have lunch with a friend every once in a while?"

"That can be arranged with advance notice."

"What about my upcoming graduation?"

"I wouldn't want you to miss it for the world. As you might imagine, I'll be there as well. Will your family be coming?"

"No, they are busy," she whispered more to herself. "I am eager to get started."

Busy. Since when were a kid's parents too busy to attend their daughter's college graduation? I had a feeling I knew. They didn't have the money to travel. "I can send them plane tickets if you like."

"No!" Her exclamation was far too stern. "I mean, no, thank you. My parents own a sheep farm and this is a busy time of year."

She was lying. Something in her background or past had pushed her into encouraging them not to come. "Well, I'm certain the ceremonies will be videotaped so you can send it to them."

"You're right. Can we get to work so I can get myself organized?"

"Yes, we can. However, first, I want to ask you some questions. Then I'll give you a basic overview of what you're going to be working on. Fair enough?" When had I ever cared about fair?

"Fair enough."

"Excellent. Take a seat and let's get started." While I took out a pen and paper, I honestly had no need to write down any notes. I would easily remember everything she told me.

Everything about her was interesting, including the fact that she'd worn a similar pencil skirt and blouse on her first day working for me. My hunger was nearly off the charts, my longing to peel her clothing away another delicious surprise. But I would refrain.

For now.

"Tell me about your family, growing up."

"Why do you want to know?" she insisted.

"Because often our upbringing shapes us more than people realize. Often society or social media is blamed for our children's shortcomings or successes while in truth, it's usually the behavior of the parents and the loving or violent environment that shapes their expectations, their fears, and how they're able to manipulate society."

"You say that as if your parents were horrific."

I took a deep breath, noticing she had a slight smile on her face. "My mother was an angel. My father? Another story. But we weren't talking about me."

"But your story will be. Don't we write a tiny part of us in every book we pen on paper?"

Her challenge was delightful. "Very true. I'll give you that but often what we add are nothing more than memories of a friend of family member used for one of the characters."

"May I ask you a very personal question?"

She was nervous around me. I liked that. "Go right ahead."

"If you're a monster like so many people think you are, why write something so personal?"

Perhaps she's the one who'd broken through my armor, a feat no one else had accomplished before. "Because my stories come from the heart, a much more marketable book. Don't you think?"

"Perhaps."

"You know so, Sara. Given your excellent work in my class, I'd say whatever has driven your need to write is based on a dangerous incident in your life. Once you embrace what the moments teach you, you'll feel much more freedom. The readers will feel it too. Don't believe every story you've heard or read about my family. As we well know given we're authors, details can be embellished."

"True." The way she shifted in her chair suggested being uncomfortable, but I had a feeling it had nothing to do with her parents. Unless they were serial killers in disguise, which I highly doubted. "My mom and dad are incredible, hard working. They grew up with meager belongings, learning the meaning of often grueling work, which they transferred to their four children. But along with what little we had, often wearing hand-me-downs, we also had extraordinary love and laughter. Holidays were special, not because of presents but because everyone was joyful with what we had. I adore my entire family, even if what they do is looked at with little understanding or respect. What they gave me was the ability to always be myself. For that, I will be eternally grateful."

"Sounds idealistic. So why the foray into the darkest of minds and violence?"

The fact my question caused a tiny twitch to appear on the side of her mouth was as refreshing as it was telling. I'd been right. She did have a very dark secret she would attempt to take to her grave. She leaned forward quickly, resting her elbows on her knees. "Because the light is beautiful, much like the shimmering sun on a gorgeous spring day, but there is no depth to it, no ability to hide from itself. The darkness with shadows and subdued edges provides the perfect hiding ground for all the delicious desires lurking in all of us. That's really why people enjoy horror movies. Because they're allowed to overcome the day-to-day doldrums of being what others expect them to be."

Her answer was not necessarily what I'd expected but every word was dripping with such sincerity it made my balls tighten.

"Do you enjoy horror movies?"

Now she smiled. "Very much. My favorites."

"Fascinating, Sara. Almost provocative and in my opinion, what you said about the darkness is very true. Does your family know what you write?"

She laughed. "They know I write, which was always a bone of contention, but not one family member has read anything I've written, including when I won several creative writing competitions in high school. I have a feeling they wouldn't appreciate or value my work anyway."

"They didn't approve?"

"They were too busy trying to put food on the table, which I understand is entirely different from the life you grew up in."

The fact she'd turned the tables so easily was as annoying as it was amusing. "My family was and is complicated, but you're right in that there was money in my household. However, not all families are happy, able to celebrate birthdays and holidays. Often, they are embroiled in the very darkness that draws readers or movie goers to enjoy and embrace the horror genre."

"Then the rumors and stories about your family are true." She had a new lilt in her voice, her eyes sparkling as if she'd caught me in the kind of secret we were both keeping from the rest of the world.

"You were curious about my family." She'd been honest with me. Perhaps giving her a taste of my own would allow trust to begin building.

"As you were with mine. Right? You know all about me, Professor Saint. You learned what my family does, where I lived, and likely my grades in school. I thought it more than prudent that I should learn about you, especially since I'm required to live with you. I value the truth and honesty likely as much as you do, even while indulging in the darkness you seem to covet."

My sweet Sara had more of a backbone and chutzpa than I'd originally believed.

That would make breaking her that much more delicious. "Be careful about looking for truths in monsters, Sara. Not only might you not like what you find, but it could add fuel to your very worst nightmares."

"But isn't that what you expect from me?" she asked as if she was an innocent flower. "To delve into the darkest regions of my mind so I can provide you everything you need to write a bestseller?"

Maybe it was at that moment I realized hiring an assistant was about much more than I'd originally believed. Perhaps I'd been reveling in my own deep and demonic shadows for so long that a part of me was longing to find some light.

Or maybe even a moment of salvation, if there was such a thing for a brutal bastard like me. For a few seconds in time, we seemed to reach into each other's souls through our eyes, perhaps attempting to find an altered reality of ourselves. As I smiled, she took a deep breath. "I believe you understand your assignment and what the job entails much better than I believed. I will say I was very impressed with the story you wrote."

"Then why give it an A minus if that was the case?"

She deserved an honest answer. "Because you didn't dig deep enough, Sara. It was obvious to me from the first paragraph that you were holding back, perhaps fearful of exposing the vulnerable side buried deep inside of you."

"Not everyone can understand what makes us tick."

Now I laughed. "You are correct. Especially those like you and me. We are a special… breed, which is why you're sitting in this chair. However, we do need to get down to work. Your first task is to draw on the demons you have nestled inside, the reason you're keeping a deep dark secret."

She narrowed her eyes, and I could sense her breath catching. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning unearth the darkness, Ms. Adams. Pull out the gut-wrenching emotions that are holding you back from being a great writer instead of a good one. Show me what you can really do for someone who won't judge you for what you put down on paper."

She looked away as she'd done before. "Fine. Is that the same kind of advice I should provide to you?"

Everything about her was becoming even more delightful. "Yes, it is. I expect no less. Go to your office and write what you should have penned days ago."

"Why, yes, sir." She stood, a slight smirk appearing on her face. As she headed for the door, I slipped my hand under my desk, stroking the thick, throbbing bulge between my legs. A forbidden and sinful image slipped into the forefront of my mind. I wanted her captured between my legs at this very moment, sucking on my cock while I handled business.

Not only did I want her sucking me dry, licking every drop of my seed, but I also wanted her covered in my cum. Did that make me an even worse man than before? Perhaps, but I'd never followed anyone's rules and didn't intend on starting now.

As she started to walk toward the door, I took a deep breath before leaning forward. My cock was aching, the hard push against my trousers painful. "When you're finished, send me the new copy. I believe Milly gave you my email address. And dinner will be at seven tonight. We will enjoy getting to know each other given we are going to become very intimate. Tomorrow, we will begin in earnest."

"Caviar and lobster? Wagyu beef straight from Japan specially flown in just for you?" she asked as if testing me.

"What you must think of me. While I do enjoy a blood-rare steak from time to time, the bloodier the better, you might be surprised how simple my tastes are, other than in a good Cuban cigar and a bottle of the finest gin. Now, go. Be the obedient girl I know you can be."

Her eyes lit up all over again, her mouth twisting as she thought about how to answer me. "Certainly. Sir." Her lower lip was quivering again.

I walked closer yet allowed her the distance I suspected she needed. "Intimacy is akin to arousal, freeing one's inhibitions to do many things from composing music to performing surgery and writing a bestselling novel. I can tell you burn with the need, not just to make money but to indulge in the passion you've sought for your entire adult life. Yes?"

"Yes." It took her a few seconds to answer.

"Good girl. I knew I wasn't wrong about you. Tell me, Sara. Is your pussy wet, your nipples hard at this very moment?"

The tiny look of surprise was followed by a need that matched my own, unbridled and more intimate than we'd gotten before. "Yes," she admitted.

"Good girl. I'm proud of you for being honest with me. Are you willing to go outside of your comfort zone, to indulge in your deepest fantasies while exposing the most vulnerable side of yourself? Are you willing to be someone everyone you know wouldn't recognize just for a little while?"

She offered a wry smile. "Why, yes, sir." As if trying to prove a point, she slowly dropped to her knees.

My instant reaction was sadistic in need and thought, my balls tightening as she dropped to her hands, glancing up at me as if assuming the role of seductress. I wasn't certain where this was going but I had to admit I was more than willing to find out.

I backed away to my desk, forcing her to come closer. She kept a sly smile on her face as she crawled ever so slowly toward me, her eyes piercing mine. I was cognizant my cock was throbbing more than ever, the need for her increasing exponentially. Was it wrong of me to crave indulging in sadistic needs? I wasn't certain I wanted to learn anyone else's answer.

As she came closer, she tossed her long ponytail from side to side, which only enticed me further. In her tight skirt, crawling couldn't have been easy, but she made it look so effortless, as if she'd done this before. I was more impressed with her because she was letting herself go, whether she realized it or not.

A soft purr left her throat, almost a whisper of a sound but I caught it as I'd done with everything else about her. When she was only inches away, she rose onto her knees once again, slowly lowering her heated gaze down from my torso to my legs. Her chest rose and fell, and I sensed it was from excitement, not difficulty breathing around me. Her closeness allowed me to catch a whiff of her desire and she was the kind of woman who could easily intoxicate a man.

I was not the kind of man to be thrown by anything. However, she was pushing my boundaries already as I'd attempted to do with hers. The way she began to rub her hands along the inside of my legs was scintillating, the tingles erupting into electricity within seconds.

It was almost impossible not to react like the primal man I was, fisting her hair and forcing my cock down her throat. The visions of doing so were more vivid than before. She was worth the wait, uncovering her most vulnerable aspects of foreplay to me.

When her hands were only inches away from my throbbing cock, I took both of them into mine, forcing her onto her feet. "You have the ability to be a very bad girl, Sara. However, what I'm looking for is for you to be entirely yourself, not a beautiful actress pretending to be something she's not."

By the look in her eyes, I could tell I'd caused a hint of pain but almost immediately her resolve kicked in. She cupped my face, trying to hold onto whatever momentum and courage she'd gathered before, pressing her other palm against my chest and rising onto her tiptoes as she leaned into me.

With the lightest brush of her lips against mine, I was almost driven to a place I wouldn't be able to retreat from. The taste of her was incredible, more so than the night I'd mistaken her for someone else. She even moaned as if on cue and while I adored the sound, I was ready to take back control.

I pulled her against me, crushing my mouth over hers, instantly resuming control by thrusting my tongue inside. She stiffened immediately, obviously shocked I'd called her on her little game. Yet within seconds, she was engaging with me, her body possibly betraying her. She undulated back and forth, creating the kind of friction between my legs I didn't need right now.

But as additional desire roared to the surface, I was locked in a moment in time that I hoped neither one of us would regret. Sexual harassment? In every other work scenario, you bet. But this was entirely different. This was a sensual experience allowing every emotion to rise to the surface.

And the bad man inside of me planned on taking full advantage of it and the luscious woman. As the moment of intimacy continued, she relaxed even more, clawing my shirt with one hand as she shifted the other so she could tangle her fingers in my hair.

When I finally broke the kiss, she was breathless, licking her bottom lip.

She had no idea what she was doing to me or what I planned on doing with her.

For now, I gripped both her arms, gently pushing her away. "As I said, be you."

"What if this is me?" Her question was coy, so much so I had to smile.

"Then we will enjoy our time spent together. I am more certain of it now than ever."

A flush of heat rose on her cheeks from embarrassment, and she immediately pulled away, folding her arms across her chest in a defensive stance. She turned sharply and started to head out the door then stopped. "You never told me about the book you intend on writing, Mr. Saint."

It was another method of her trying to regain control.

"Let's call it a foray into our biggest fears, our most extreme nightmares. Imagine a highly respected leader in a community who enjoyed doing unspeakable things at night."

Her smile was full of intrigue and I sensed ideas already. The woman was a remarkable find. "You should make him a professor."

Chuckling, I shook my head. "Perhaps I will."

"One last question, Professor Saint. What did you put in the stunning roses to keep them so fresh?"

I rose from my desk, heading to the bar. This called for a celebration and a drink. I grabbed a glass and my favorite bottle of whiskey, which was rare for me to drink these days. "First of all, please call me Easton. I am no longer your professor. Second, I used blood. It's the essence of life, don't you think?" When she said nothing at first, I turned my head toward her slowly.

The look in her eyes, the twinkle that the shimmer of sun revealed allowed me to catch a glimpse of her soul. She was very much like me, a woman who longed to cross the very line I'd done years before. And I knew once she did, she would never be able to cross back over.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I agree. Blood is also the passageway into the very darkness both you and I enjoy writing about."

Mmm… My cock twitched all over again.

With that she walked out and my desire for her took another turn.

She was everything my damaged psyche needed. The beautiful woman had no idea she'd willingly walked into the lair of a predator.

And this beast wasn't willing to let her go.