Chapter 14

"We make our own monsters, then fear them for what they show us about ourselves."

—Mike Carey

Sara

"What in God's name is wrong with you?" I huffed out the question to that obvious bad girl inside of me as soon as I closed the door to my office, forced to take gasping breaths. I'd never done anything so ridiculous or impetuous in my life.

At least not of my own accord.

I walked forward, pacing back and forth as I held my head in my hands. Oh, this wasn't good. No, it was very bad. What the man must think of me. I tried to pull myself together because at the end of this day or any other, I'd put myself into this position. I'd wanted to work with him no matter the rumors or the ugliness swirling around him.

Even more personal of an admittance was that I was highly attracted to him, and the kiss had been perfect, what every girl dreamt of: soft lips with a dominating hold, his scent creating images of his naked body.

Oh, I was in way over my head. But as I tried to pull myself out of a sensual fog, I realized I was rubbing my fingers across my slightly swollen lips, envisioning the thick bulge I'd seen between his legs. Jesus. I was in a crazy moment of lust, which was totally inappropriate.

"Get a grip. Get a fucking grip." I stomped my foot, trying to make light of the situation even if it was impossible.

Yet the bold and filthy images of the man, his chiseled face and his carved body refused to let me go, as if playing tricks on my mind.

Fantasies were part of almost every girl's life, at least those with a pulse and an active libido. While I wasn't the kind of woman anyone could consider experienced sexually, and certainly had never dared attempt anything kinkier than one rather useless boyfriend licking me inside his cramped car, that didn't mean I hadn't done some research or allowed my mind to wander to all those delicious and very provocative places.

Maybe my thoughts had driven me into the naughty girl zone given my absolutely reprehensible behavior only minutes before.

For a few seconds, I did what I could to catch my breath, trying to ignore the anger I had for being so forward. I walked to the window, pressing my hand against the cool glass. There was so much I'd wanted to say to the man, so many questions that needed answers, but he had a way about him that took control of every situation immediately.

I had a feeling I'd walked into a lion's den.

And that he would never allow me to escape. Was it silly to be thinking that way or was it about survival? I had to consider if everything I'd heard about him and his family was true. What bothered me more than the possibility was that I wasn't any more troubled than before. The ugly truth was his secretive past and his brooding masculinity were by far more attractive than if he was a simple guy with basic tastes and needs.

A normal man.

Whatever that was.

I pressed my forehead against the glass, realizing that with all my fantasies, including those drifting into my mind years before I'd ventured into the man's class, I'd idealized a dominating man.

It really hadn't dawned on me until this moment. And I couldn't wipe the intense visions or the overwhelming longing I had for him aside.

Maybe that's why when a beautiful vision washed in rose floated in front of my mind's eye, I allowed myself to be consumed by it for a little while.

"Come here, princess. I need you to be a good girl or there will be consequences."

As he beckoned with a single finger, I couldn't seem to stop shivering. When I was only a couple of feet in front of him, he took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring and his eyes holding the same air of possessiveness I'd seen so many times. I moved very slowly, studying his piercing eyes as I'd done before. He had something on his mind, something carnal. I could sense it.

We were standing outside on the deck, the light breeze tickling my skin. He was leaning against the exterior wall, one foot planted on the dense stone. In his hand was a drink. The very late afternoon sun was already providing dozens of shadows creating ominous figures that didn't exist but reminded me of the very demons he'd mentioned were crawling inside of him.

He took his time rolling the tip of his index finger down my right cheek, following the trail with his intense gaze all the way to drifting it between my breasts. A slight smirk spread across his face as he eased it under the bodice of my light summer dress, swirling the tip around my already aching nipple.

All the while, he watched my reactions as I licked my dry lips, goosebumps popping along every inch of naked skin.

"So beautiful and all mine. Do you like the fact I own you, sweet Sara? My perfect little fawn."

"Yes, sir."

"My good girl." Using both hands, he rolled the tiny straps of my dress over my shoulders, allowing gravity to take the material to the deck's surface. At that point, I was completely naked since I was never allowed to wear even a thong around him.

I was also in my bare feet while he stood fully clothed. I'd never felt so small or vulnerable, but Easton had a way of making me feel as if I could do anything. As if I could be anything.

And as if I was the most special woman alive.

He rubbed his hands up and down both arms, towering over me yet leaning over so his lips barely touched mine. As always, the kiss brought a series of electric sensations, some so dazzling I was certain my skin was seared.

"All mine. Tonight, my beautiful girl, we're going on a hunt. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir." I darted my eyes toward the forest, the dense trees appearing more ominous than ever.

"Such a very good girl." He darted his tongue inside my mouth, taking his time to explore before crushing his lips over mine. As I was brought to my toes, a series of shivers danced down my spine. He had that kind of effect on me, pushing my limits while allowing me to explore the outer reaches of dark passion. He had no idea that he'd awakened such intense needs inside both my mind and body. I was always aching for his touch.

His kiss.

His brutal moments of rough sex.

I pressed my hands against his chest, marveling how the powerful man captured every moan. He dominated my tongue as always, refusing to allow me to have any control. I loved that about him as I did just about anything else.

"Where I do I run to, sir, and how far?"

"You run," he answered with a growl in his voice, "until I catch and ravage you. There will be no turning back, no using violence against me. Or you will be punished. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." He knew how I was, the games I could win.

"On three."

He pressed another kiss on my forehead and let me go. I backed away, my heart racing.

"You'll have a ten-minute head start but remember, I am a predator. One." He grinned, amusement rushing into his eyes. "Two."

I licked my dry lips again, excited about what would happen. I enjoyed feeling like a feral animal running in the wild.

"Three."

Jesus Christ.

I was panting, envisioning myself right there in the very dense forest I could see outside his window. Heat rushed through me and I suddenly realized I'd slipped my hand into my blouse, pinching and twisting my nipple. Jesus. I was hot and bothered all over. What did that say about me?

Horny girl.

Yes, I was. But the nagging about the man remained, the unknown still troubling. I wanted to read Josie's story she'd written for the final. I also wanted to learn more details about what she knew and how. Whether it was for research for a book, to soothe some of my nerves, or indulge my curiosity, I wasn't certain but if I was really allowed to have lunch with a friend, I made a mental note to try to call her tomorrow.

I stormed toward the beautiful desk, reminding myself of all the reasons my behavior had been completely wrong. I knew he'd been pushing me, trying to determine if he'd made the right choice in hiring me. Pushing me outside my comfort zone. It had worked. I couldn't blame him but there was more to our connection, a burning electricity that could fry anyone's brain and obviously already had mine.

No. No. This needed to stop. I was a professional. Period.

Intimacy.

Passion.

I'd understood exactly what he was trying to tell me. That letting go of the various inhibitions he'd mentioned often resulted in the same endorphins experienced when engaging in carnal acts. The writing needed every ounce of emotion, every fear for it to be believable given the subject matter. I had to help make the readers believe the worst boogeymen were those in human form.

Monsters lurking in the shadows.

Yes. I was convinced what I'd read wasn't utter bullshit. Easton Saint and his two brothers were involved in something more than just illegal activities that had been touted as mafia in style and mercilessness but also something much, much darker. I also wanted to find the address of his parents' house, going there myself with a shovel.

If he was determined to challenge me, I would do so with as well with him. Wasn't it true about skeletons and secrets? Everyone had at least one in their family or life.

I almost giggled from the ridiculousness of my thoughts. His family supposedly hunted and killed people on the family estate, and my uncle was a confirmed serial killer. Oh, we were a perfect match indeed. Although I wasn't certain I was buying the passion and intimacy part so quickly or easily.

Sighing, I was furious with myself that I seemed caught in a box wrapped with chains, unable to free myself. It was silly, something I never did.

Or had I been doing so all along?

As I closed my eyes, my mind drifted to the first time in Easton's office. The way he'd touched me then had been rough, his certainty I was a woman for hire the reason. But his touch before, the way his fingers danced across my skin had been scintillating.

My breathing ragged, I wasn't aware I'd rolled my knuckles down the side of my neck until I was sliding them up and down between my breasts. Even worse, the moment I took my index finger, rolling it around my nipples, both were hard as diamonds.

Every action the man took as always had a sensual air about it. And it was apparent I wasn't the only woman attracted not just to the bad boy side of him but the dark hunger and predatory longing enveloping every bat of his long eyelashes.

My pussy was throbbing even more than before, my inner core as heated as it had ever been. He'd pulled at my heartstrings, probing the same shadows I suspected he lived in.

I shifted back and forth on my seat, clenching and releasing my pussy muscles several times. Horny wasn't the word for the way I felt. I could run downstairs right now, begging to suck his cock.

Bad girl, Sara. Very bad.

At least I was able to smile from my lurid thoughts.

I was a plethora of thoughts as I sat in front of my laptop, including quotes I'd memorized over the years. It had been a memory exercise but had turned into a passion, or perhaps a method of indulging in the odd demons Easton had mentioned. Somehow, he'd figured out quickly that I was a little too much like him. Granted, given the theme of the class had been ‘Delving into the Darkest Part of Humanity,' my overwhelming enthusiasm was something of a giveaway…

While I certainly hadn't shied away from the work to any degree, he'd been right in determining I'd been fearful that my writing would draw attention. Not just to my uncle and the horrible world he'd created but also in the strange thoughts and desires I'd had since I was a kid.

I drummed my fingers on the glass surface, trying to figure out what the man wanted from me. I'd killed three people in a five-thousand-word story. I'd shown the reader the sheer joy the killer experienced when doing so, the longing to act on his desires again. What had I done wrong?

As I read over a couple of passages, a slight and very strange sensation crept through me. I rose to my feet, heading into the bedroom to stand and stare at the roses. They were truly magnificent in every way, yet another cold shiver slipped down my spine. Unable to help myself, I tipped the vase, gathering some of the water on my fingers. As I brought it to my face, I took a deep whiff. Yes, the substance was watered down but unless my mind was playing tricks on me, I was able to detect a slight hint of a coppery odor.

The stench of blood.

I dared bring my finger to my lips, darting out my tongue. While I could taste nothing, I was certain he hadn't been lying to me.

I'd simply forgotten to ask whose blood he'd used, although I hadn't seen any cuts on his fingers or hands. What was I doing? This was crazy. He was trying to push my buttons, which in turn would activate that dark part of my mind he was looking for.

The part where a killer could feast and survive.

Now I knew I needed to add to the story. He'd been right. I'd held back enough I was certain no reader would have been able to feel the emotion, the deep conviction the killer I'd used had felt deep inside, just like the burning need he'd mentioned.

I returned to my desk, eager to add another layer of depth to the story.

As my fingers started to fly, not only did I feel a sense of urgency but also one of incredible freedom. My character had been two dimensional, his inability to express himself all because I'd locked my mind off. So I put everything I had into reworking it.

When I finally looked up at the clock, two hours had gone by. I'd all but reinvented the wheel, which made me laugh. No one could ever accuse me of not taking a task seriously.

More gleeful than I'd been when writing anything to this point, I read the piece over one last time before feeling confident it was exactly what Easton was looking for. Without second guessing myself any longer, I typed in his email and hit send.

As I sat back, a strange series of emotions came over me as if I was opening Pandora's Box and I'd never be able to close it again.

I had a few hours before dinner. Perhaps I would try to relax, even falling into a book myself for a change. I'd heard it was important for writers to enjoy reading. Maybe before dinner I'd grab not only a glass of wine but a hot bath. Why allow such a glorious bathtub to go unused?

Why allow my wicked mind to go stale?

Exhaling, I shoved aside everything but reworking the story.