Chapter Four

Wick

Wick was too shocked to protest being manhandled with a hand clamped around her nape up two flights of stairs to the top level. Jax brought her to a halt in front of a pitch-black door featuring the same golden eye logo as on the rudder of the plane.

"How the hell did that happen?" she snapped, finally finding her voice.

"Did what happen?" Jax asked with an expression of innocence that would make angels sing.

"How could you let us take off, knowing I was a stowaway? You should've made them stop the plane and kicked me off! That's what you do with stowaways."

"Actually, if memory serves, stowaways had their origin on the high seas, and they were quartered or walked the plank." He shrugged, making no attempt to hide his mirth. "Since we can't do either on a plane, you'll have to face—"

"The BIG MAN." She rolled her eyes to add to the dramatization of the moment. "Yeah, I got that."

"I suggest you take this matter seriously, little witch. Behind that door is the man who will decide your fate. He arrived in a black mood, and dealing with a trespasser isn't going to improve it any. In fact, if you know what's good for you, you won't utter a word or even make a sound unless he directs a question at you. At least that way, you may survive the ordeal."

Wick didn't respond since she was struggling not to choke on the fear building up inside her. Jax Crowthorne was claimed to be associated with the New York Mafia, so she had no idea if that was where she was—on a plane of the Genolere Family, and that she was about to face one of the cruelest of mobsters himself… the big man!

"Except if you're prepared to answer my questions and tell me what you're doing on the plane." His eyes turned calculating. "And why have you been staking me out for the past week?"

"You knew?" Wick dragged in a furious breath as she recalled that he had earlier mentioned knowing she was watching him three days in. Realization struck. "You knew I followed you onto the plane. You asshole! You had more than enough time to kick me off. Instead, you… you—"

"Chose to interrogate you first."

"That was no fucking interrogation, you alphahole! You out and out fucked me."

"Hmm, fucking indicates both parties climax and experience sexual satisfaction. Since I did neither, nor was my dick anywhere near your juicy cunt, I stick to having interrogated you. I started questioning you when I found you, as far as I recall." He smirked. "Do cast your mind back if you please, little witch, and answer me this. Did you or did you not ask me to fuck your pussy with my tongue?"

"I… you…" Wick stomped her foot, something she never did since, in her mind, it was immature, but for some reason, this alphahole pushed buttons she didn't know she had. "You're twisting everything."

"Well, the dice have been cast. You refuse to talk, so the matter escalates to this office." He leaned closer. "You might have had better luck if you had more faith in me, but alas… you made the choice." The amusement slipped from his face, leaving him stoic and unapproachable. Suddenly, Wick didn't think it was that farfetched to believe he was involved with the mafia. "It's time to face the repercussions of the choices you made tonight. Remember my warning. Do not say a word or make a sound. It may be your only saving grace once you step through that door."

Holding her breath was an unconscious sign of the nervousness wrapping itself around her like a cloak that tightened with every move she made as Jax opened the door. With a slight pressure of his fingers on her nape, he prodded her inside. The room was dark except for a single downlight shining on a spot on the carpet. Jax left her in the stark overhead light, and with a final warning squeeze, he was gone.

Breathe! Just breathe!she had to remind herself when bright spots impaired her vision into the black void surrounding her. Dragging in a desperate breath, she moved her eyes around but heeded Jax's warning and kept her feet rooted to the spot. The quiet became oppressive, and prodded by the red devil that perched on her shoulder more often than not, she opened her mouth to demand an audience from the owner of the eyes she could feel watching her from outside the spotlight perimeter.

The first piano chords of the song, The Sound of Silence, resonated through the room, immediately dissolving the words before they fully formed on her lips.

"Hello, darkness, my old friend."

No kidding! The blackness around me is totally freaking me out.Her mind immediately turned frantic at the deep, guttural voice of the lead singer of the band Disturbed that filled every crevice of her soul. It was as if the song reiterated Jax's warning not to move and to keep quiet. For some unfathomable reason, her body and mind obliged.

Apart from the song, there was no sound, no movement, nothing to warn of the unexpected brush of hard leather when a collar was fastened around her throat.

No! Let me go! Her mind screamed the words, but for some reason, they were stuck in her throat at the ominous rattling of a chain in the background as the song continued. The chain was clipped onto the collar and tightened. Her breathing turned choppy as she was forced on her toes.

"And the vision that was planted in my brain…"

Oh, and what a vision!Wick's mouth gaped with unuttered words; her eyes spread wide open as she clawed at the collar. The hands that wrapped around her wrists were huge, but instead of escalating her fears, they soothed her as hard fingers drew small circles on the pulsing veins before dragging her arms back. Wick's mind was filled with the words of the song as he crossed her arms and forced her fingers to lock around opposite elbows, entrapping her in a self-made cage.

"‘Neath the halo of a streetlamp…"

Indeed! Wick felt like an insect trapped inside a Venus Flytrap under the bright downlight. She had never felt as vulnerable in her life… or so entirely excited as she did at that moment. She wasn't sure if it was adrenaline pumping through her veins or just plain stupidity because there she was, strung up on her toes, blinded by an overhead light at the mercy of a man she couldn't see.

"When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light…"

Yes! Blinding me. Then a hand, warm and huge, folded over her eyes and stayed there for a moment before moving down, gently closing them. She didn't have to be told… her eyes were to remain that way.

"And touched the sound of silence…"

What silence? My ears are whistling like a steam engine!Wick wasn't just struggling with the concept of silence amid the rising chorus that she felt wrapping itself around her entire being. No, it was the gaze of the unseen she could sense circling her.

Her shocked gasp was the only sound souring the beauty of the music filling the acoustic of the room as suddenly, her T-shirt was ripped open, the clasp of her bra snapped in two, and within moments, her jogging pants followed the same route.

"And no one dared…

Disturb the sound of silence…"

I can't even think, let alone say a word!Even though she was now naked and bare to the scorching gaze, still, she didn't utter a word. The vision of her shirt hanging in tatters from her arms and the jogging pants slithering down her legs to pool at her feet filled her mind. Her breathing was in a race with the blood pumping through her veins.

"Silence like a cancer grows."

Oh Lord, it grows! It's filling every little space in my mind.Wick was at war with the desire to speak, but her brain refused to issue the order. How could it? At the moment, her soul, her mind, and her body were under the mesmerizing spell of the unseen… a man who held the power, through the words of a song, to keep her mum… to make her body zing as she sensed him circling her… and circling her. She might not be able to see him, but she felt him. Every brush of his eyes over her nakedness was like a butterfly's wing fluttering against her skin.

"And the people bowed and prayed."

I'm praying! Lord, how I'm praying that I survive this night.Wick knew she had stepped inside a plane that held secrets she wasn't sure she was ready to uncover. A wickedness seemed to dwell in the air that cyphered through her skin to find residence in the fluttering of her stomach, stirring a burgeoning lust inside her womb.

"And the sign flashed out its warning…"

Too late! She should have listened to her senses flaring red flags before she stupidly stowed away on the plane.

"And whispered in the sound of silence."

God, too late. It's too late to scream… or run. As the final chords of the song rose in a crescendo, Wick's skin pebbled, and her breathing turned harsh as she mentally tried to prepare herself for what was coming.

"Open."

The command came as silence descended at the end of the song. Her eyelids fluttered, and her fingers dug painfully into her elbows as her eyes opened.

The black void around her had dissolved to a soft brown mist… broken only by the two globes across the distance—golden, just like the eye on the door of this room.

Oh, hell to me! It's the devil. I'm at the mercy of Satan.She could swear there was a halo of darkness enveloping him—the aura of a demon. It was frightening. It wasn't the collar around her throat entrapping her; it was him, the devil, keeping her encased within his invisible wings. The faint hair at her nape rippled upright.

Except Satan had red eyes, and as the darkness receded even more, so did the body and face attached to the gold gaze that held hers captive materialize.

Holy shit!

No man had ever taken Wick's breath away until this very moment. An unexpected shudder rocked her frame—a shiver of discomfort that was exhilarating as hell. He wasn't a classically attractive man, but he had a raw, primal magnetism that rocked her to the soles of her feet. The size of a beast with arms, chest, and solid abs, he could give the mighty Goliath a run for his money.

Her eyes moved over his body with a hunger stirring inside her that rocked her to the core. She knew the signs of awakening lust. The feelings and sensations at war inside her surpassed the most carnal desire she had ever experienced. This was deeper, harder, and as demanding as a hungry puppy to be fed.

His dark honeyed voice grated again, but Wick was too enraptured by the tour her eyes were taking over his body. His feet were bare. Damn her if they weren't sexy from big to small toes! How fair was that? The pair of jeans was molded to his muscled legs, lovingly cupping what looked to be a massive bulge between his legs. Her mouth turned dry. The top button of his fly was open, but the steely, muscled torso invited her not to linger there. The white silk shirt was unbuttoned, hugging his frame like a lover's caress. His huge arms moved as he folded them across his chest as he leaned against the desk. As much as she was quivering under his unyielding gaze, so was he relaxed and at ease.

"I don't like repeating myself." The dark and oh-so-lovely voice grated again. This time, the words penetrated. "Name."

"W-Wick," she croaked. "Wick Bitch."

His eyes narrowed briefly, then he pushed away from the desk, and his arms dropped. Wick held her breath as he prowled closer, his thumbs hooked into the loops of his jeans. Slowly, her insides started to crumble… or did they stir? She didn't know anymore. His gaze was controlled and hot as liquid gold, yet there was a quiet violence that simmered deep in his eyes. Her breath stuttered as he came closer, appearing bigger with every step. By the time he towered over her, she felt like a quivering ant.

He had been watching her throughout the song, but suddenly, she was embarrassingly aware of her body, bare and vulnerable to his gaze. Half seated, he had been big; standing up close, he was massive… frighteningly so, and for someone as tall as her, that said a lot.

Her eyes flickered as his face finally was close enough to study. She was right. He wasn't your normal, attractive kind of man; he was a Greek god… imperfect in perfection. His tanned skin glowed in the light that emphasized his square jaw, and those topaz eyes, which seemed more gold than amber, glimmered as he watched her unblinkingly. Unable to return his penetrating stare, her eyes dropped to his mouth, and she forgot to breathe… again. Full, soft, and visually signaling his discontent, she had no doubt they would be warm and seductive against hers.

Whoa! Where did that come from? He's the devil, not a knight on a white horse.

Wick ignored her inner voice. Lips like those only belonged in one place… kissing, licking, and nibbling her pussy.

The air shifted as a low growl emitted from between the very lips she was drooling over. Her eyes slowly moved back to his. She could feel the heat blossoming from her chest to find residence on her cheeks. He knew… the demon man knew what she'd been thinking.

In a very thorough once over down her naked body, he returned the favor before he started circling her. He didn't touch her, yet it felt as if he trailed his finger over her skin as he walked.

"So, what is it that you're after that you deemed so important to trespass on my plane, Ms. Bitch?"

Wick flinched. For the first time, she wished she had changed her name back like she had been threatening to do. Bitch was the last name she wanted this man to call her.

"I wouldn't call it trespassing, per se," she protested. "Let's just say I stowed away."

"Hmm. What would you say is the difference between the two, Ms. Bitch?"

"Wick," she said weakly. "Please call me Wick."

One eyebrow quirked, but he didn't respond. It was a sign that he expected an answer.

"Well, a trespasser is someone who breaches security and enters someone else's property without authorization. A stowaway is someone who isn't a legal resident…" Her voice drifted off as she listened to her own explanation.

"We're in agreement then." He stopped in front of her. "Ever been behind bars, Wick?"

"No." Her lips curled at her own stupidity. "I'm a law-abiding citizen." Again, that damn eyebrow. "Well, usually I am."

Wick found it disturbing that she was naked in front of this man, and it didn't seem to bother her… much. She wasn't into exhibitionism. In fact, she never even walked around naked or in lingerie in front of her boyfriends or lovers. She always covered up with a robe or oversized tee.

"You haven't answered my first question. What are you doing on my plane?"

Nerves slammed into her. No way in hell was she going to admit to this dark beast of a devil why she was stalking his friend. For all she knew, this was none other than the feared Don Genolere. Although logic prevailed. He couldn't be since she remembered reading during the research she had done that he was in his sixties. This man was in his early forties, tops.

"Look," she said, wondering why she was still clamping her elbows even though her biceps were screaming in protest for being in this position for so long. Or why she hadn't demanded to be released from the humiliating position she was in. "Why don't we just brush all this under the carpet? Once you land, I'll just walk away. I clearly made a mistake. I don't know what came over me, and I— Ahh!" she cried out as he pulled on the chain. The collar tightened around her throat and forced her even higher until her toes barely touched the floor.

"I abhor lies, Ms. Bitch. I suggest you don't test my patience by continuing with such a bad habit."

The savagery in his eyes should turn her into a scared little rabbit—instinct warned her that she should be scared, shit scared—but instead, she stared at him in fascination, her skin all pebbled and tight… waiting. Her tongue flicked out nervously. His eyes locked on her lips. Wick was damned if he didn't have the look of a ravenously hungry beast on his face.

"Do that again."

Wick's entire world shifted at his order. She didn't even ask; her tongue slipped out as if on its own and did a slow foray over her lips.

He took a step closer.

"Again." He was now so close, she could see his nostrils flare and feel his warm breath against her skin.

Her tongue responded to the order, becoming more seductive with each pass over her lips. He shuffled closer still.

"Again."

This time, the tip of her tongue had barely peeked from between her lips when his mouth crushed on hers. His hard hand clamped around her chin to keep her face slanted just as he wanted it.

Wick moaned, and the carnal sound was swallowed in the recesses of his mouth. She was a jumble of nerves firing all at once. His hard body pressed against hers ignited a lust so profound, she couldn't breathe. Although he was still holding the chain drawn tight, the fingers around her face were hard yet soft while harboring a steely strength. It was perfect… he was perfection.

Wick felt drunk, as if she had just downed half a bottle of her favorite Macallan Whiskey. The hardness of his lips on hers was a mind-blowing experience. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, forcing it to complete the movement of licking her lips. He sucked on her lips with such sensuality that her eyes rolled back in their sockets. A raw moan started deep in her stomach to rumble to the surface between their mashed lips. His fingers tightened around her face as his other hand pulled on the chain.

Wick didn't panic; breathing wasn't a commodity at the moment. Kissing and losing herself in the sexual alchemy that was this man definitely was. He forced his tongue deeper into her mouth, dipping in and out, in and out until a vision of his cock driving in and out of her pussy filled her mind. Her loins clenched. The collar tightened more as the chains rattled. Her feet dangled in the air. Gasping for breath, she did the only logical thing—she wrapped her legs around his waist.

The growl he emitted was all the warning he offered. Her legs dropped back, and the collar tightened, threatening to choke her. If not for the hold he had on her chin and his mouth anchoring hers, she would have.

Her life was in his hands, Lord help her, in more ways than one. Wick was lost. Her body trembled as she felt heat explode all over her skin, rippling from deep inside—a craving she couldn't fight, even if she wanted to.

The dark devil swirled his tongue around hers. To her horror, she could feel the action in her clit that started throbbing wildly. Wick had never felt the like. She was teetering on the edge, and all she needed was one push… one tiny push to be swallowed into the claws of sensual bliss. She could smell her own arousal, feel the creamy juices dripping from her pussy as he worked her mouth, just like Jax had intimately worked her earlier. Only this devil wasn't anywhere near her girlie bits, yet it felt like his tongue was there, delving deep and sucking every drop of cream his mouth demanded from her.

Her body pulsed and radiated waves of saturated heat that brought a hot flush to her face. The slow strokes of his tongue demanded a reaction she couldn't withhold. She gave it all to him, and even though breathing was becoming more difficult, she still kept her hands clasped around her elbows, her legs jerking in the air as he ravaged her mouth. Her back arched in response to the ecstasy that threatened to overwhelm her. His strength intoxicated her and bent her mind. She was lost in the act of self-subjugation, which was a completely alien experience for her.

But damn, it's hot and sexy… and so fucking exciting!

Wicked returned his kiss stroke for stroke as she became submerged in waves of euphoria that rocked her into surrender. Her mind was in total disarray, unable to unscramble the myriad of sensations that flooded her. His hips moved forward just enough to brush the zipper of his jeans against her swollen clit. Once, twice… then he was gone.

It was all Wick's body needed as the powerful undertow finally struck in a confluence of physical and emotional currents that sucked her under. It ripped away her balance and pulled her gasping up the face of a towering rogue wave―lifting her up, then crushing her beneath its weight. A scream tore from her lips as her body tightened. The master kisser pulled back and watched with hooded eyelids as warm liquid gushed from her loins, streaming down her thighs. Her hips jerked as she finally released her arms and clawed at the collar.

Coughing and jerking in the aftermath of a climax, she was still shocked at how unexpectedly it came about, she struggled to catch her breath as he finally relaxed the chain enough to return her to the original position.

His gaze simmered like liquid gold as he stared at her legs, sticky from her creamy discharge. There was a dark promise in his voice as he muttered one word.

"Interesting."