by Shayla Black
With his dick aching and his patience running out, he lifted her back over his face and surged up, latching onto her pussy again, tormenting her clit with his tongue.
This time, Mystery didn’t fight against his rhythm or silently demand more. She put herself in his hands, quiet, still. As he raked through her folds and nipped the sensitive bud of her nerves with his teeth, her body tensed. She spread her legs wider, gave more of herself, allowed him to control her utterly.
Her breathing picked up speed, and he watched the rosy flush cover her skin. Against his tongue, her folds engorged. Her clit turned harder than stone.
“You’re close, princess.”
“So close,” she breathed.
“Have you been good enough to earn this climax?” he taunted.
“I’ve tried. Please . . .”
On the one hand, Axel really hoped that she’d learned that fighting him and insisting on doing everything her way wouldn’t get her what she wanted. So maybe she’d think twice before she picked up and left without talking to him again. At least he hoped so, because he was damn desperate to get inside her.
Shit, he needed to tamp down this impatience. Axel didn’t remember a woman ever stealing past his control so easily or thoroughly, and he’d have to be diligent in the future so she didn’t figure out that she could wrap him around her finger with that pretty pussy. But that was a worry for later.
Right now, he wanted to taste her essence on his tongue.
“Quiet.” He released her hips and pinched the clothespins around her nipples open. “Come for me.”
A breathy sigh turned into an almost animal whine as Mystery tensed and shuddered on top of him. Using his fingers, he twisted and toyed with her sensitive nipples. As the blood rushed back into the tips, her entire body jolted. He laved her swollen pussy through the long, trembling climax, relishing the way she opened her mouth in a long, silent scream and opened to him completely.
As her clit slowly softened, her body sagged. Axel petted her with his tongue, sinking beyond her clit, to the tight opening he hoped to invade soon. He scooped her against his mouth, then prodded her clit with the tip once more.
Mystery shivered and let out a little moan. “I’m so . . . Ohmigod.”
“Sensitive?” he asked against her pussy.
“Uh huh.” She nodded, squirming.
He loved reducing her to nearly incoherent syllables. Later, when he didn’t need to be inside her so damn badly, he’d do it again for the sheer joy of watching her melt in his arms. Now, he needed more.
Axel settled her thighs back on his torso and eased her torso down until her breasts rested against his chest, until she buried her face in his neck and glided kisses across his jaw, jacking up his desire even more. He felt around the mattress for his condom. He couldn’t see his cock past her body draped over his, warm and damp and welcoming, but he could sure as hell feel his aching erection as he tore the foil apart with his teeth and wrapped his arms around her to sheathe himself.
As if she finally caught on to what he had in mind, she paused, her body still. “Axel?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate.
“Do you want me?”
“Always.” Mystery sounded even more certain.
“Then let me take you the way I want. I need that. I need you.”
* * *
AXEL’S words made her bite back a gasp. What the hell could he possibly do to her when she was all trussed up, hands and arms bound together behind her back, legs bent and restrained, her heels nearly digging into her ass.
But Mystery had no doubt he would show her exactly what he had in mind. Even though her shoulders ached a bit, she knew she’d love whatever he did to her.
“I’m all yours,” she murmured.
He lifted her into the air. Though she couldn’t see, his sheer strength in raising her off the bed from something near a supine position amazed her.
“Princess . . .” He began lowering her again—and she felt the head of his cock prod her hungry opening, now gaping with the need for him to fill her.
As he shoved her down on his cock, he lifted his hips, rising beneath her to plant his erection deep, as if embedding himself in the place he considered home.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “This is mine. You’re mine. You’re always going to be mine.”
His growled words sparked need inside her, even as his stiff length tunneled deeper, tripping across every nerve ending. Mystery tossed her head back, lacing her fingers together behind her back because she had nothing else to hold on to. He controlled everything. She could do nothing more than allow him to fuck her. And she drowned in the experience.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yours. I think I always have been.”
“Then take what I give you.” He pounded inside her, withdrew, and thrust up again relentlessly. “All of me. Every inch. Everything I have.”
His possessive insistence lit something inside her. No way could she keep any emotional walls or barriers up between them. Whatever happened tomorrow, she was all in right now—so deep Mystery felt sure she’d never escape. She was totally at peace with that realization.
Under her, he continued to lift her up his cock as he tilted his hips into the mattress, then lunged up as he yanked her down again, plunging deeper inside her than ever. The slow rhythm incinerated her. His harsh breathing. Her pounding heart. The squeaking mattress. Every thrust into her scraped the head of his cock against her most sensitive spots, over and over, until she felt dizzy and breathless and ready to scream.
“Oh, fuck . . .” He sounded hoarse, as if someone had ripped the words from his chest. “So good. That’s it. That’s . . . Fuck!”
His pace picked up, relentless and totally beyond her control. He took her at will and played her body like an instrument he’d learned well. Sleep, danger, duty—none of it mattered in the face of her desire for this man.
He strained to get deeper inside her, and Mystery felt the trembling of his body under her own. Her sensitive flesh burned with need as he impaled her again, filling her so full she stretched wide to accommodate his girth. He managed to stimulate every bit of her channel with each frenzied push up and rapid retreat back. She tightened around him as climax coiled low in her belly, groaning softly into the rise of bliss.
“Axel . . .” She wanted to reach out and touch him, steady herself, grab onto him and never let go. But as he had from the first moment they’d met, he held her safely in his grip and he would take care of her.
“Come for me, princess. Let yourself go and give everything to me.”
No way she could refuse that.
With his next stroke, the gathering sensations inside her converged. Blood rushed. Her heart roared. Her entire body felt alive as he swelled inside her. He groaned, possessing her deeper than ever. And in one dazzling moment, she released the entire torrent of need into his keeping. The sensations ripped through her body and seized her heart, melting and remolding her. Changing her.
From this moment on, she belonged to Axel. Even if he didn’t want her tomorrow, Mystery knew she’d be in love with him forever.
Chapter Fifteen
AXEL woke a few hours later to sun slanting through the windows, a chill in the air nipping at his nose, and Mystery curled around him trustingly in sleep.
He glanced around the bed and found all the scarves and belts he’d used to restrain her last night, and the pleasure had been beyond intense. Something more like cataclysmic. Moving. Life-altering.
Wouldn’t Thorpe be saying “I told you so” now? Yep, and Axel didn’t mind at all. He simply held Mystery close against him, reveling in the warmth of her sleep-soft body.
The buzzing of his phone on the nightstand startled him, and he frowned, wondering what the hell time it was. The sun looked high in the sky and he’d slept half the morning away. Shit.
He plucked the phone off the nightstand, extricating himself from Mystery, and sat up, s
taring at the device.
Seeing the name on the display, he pressed the button to accept the call instantly. “Stone. What do you have for me?”
“Oh, you finally answer the phone, Sleeping Beauty?”
Axel didn’t ask what Stone meant. He’d bet that if he looked through the record of his missed calls, he’d find more than a few. “It was a really late night getting here and making sure we were secure enough to turn in. Did you sort through the footage leading up to Mystery’s hotel room?”
“Yep. I got nothing usable for you. Whoever did it knew they were being filmed. They wore a hat with a wide brim and a trench coat, along with sunglasses, a wig . . . the works. The only thing I can tell you is that whoever left the picture is female. She entered through a service door at the back of the hotel and exited the same way, walking out of the courtyard, onto the street. No vehicle or license plate to trace. I can’t tell under the layers of shit how old the woman is or discern any of her facial features. She’s got her hands in her pockets, so I can’t see any identifying marks or jewelry. The camera angle hid her shoes. I’m guessing she’s a hotel employee or an actress looking for a few extra bucks, but no way of knowing for sure.”
“Sounds like a dead fucking end.”
“It’s looking that way, too. Since I had a little extra time this morning, I called the hotel manager. He’s spoken with the staff on duty then. No one remembers seeing her. So she either blended in or timed it well.”
“Fuck,” Axel muttered, not wanting to wake Mystery. “Any idea whose key card the woman used to access the hotel room?”
“The housekeeping manager—a man—reported his master card missing from his desk about two hours before anyone let themselves into Mystery’s room. He left about forty-five minutes before that photo appeared in her room. There’s footage of him driving out of the employee lot and everything.”
“So . . . nothing.”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“Thanks for trying, man.”
“No worries.” Stone hesitated, and Axel knew exactly where this conversation was headed. “I’d like to talk to you about Misty.”
“She told me last night that you wanted to talk. I’m not opposed, and technically she’s no longer my submissive, but if you’re serious, I’d really appreciate it if you’d have a chat with Thorpe about your intentions. I’ll be back in a few days, then we can sit down and work everything out.”
Stone heaved an impatient sigh. Obviously, he didn’t like it but he didn’t have much choice. “Sure.”
“It’s for her benefit. She’s skittish.”
“I know. It’s the only reason I didn’t tell you to blow it out your ass. Because if you wanted to stand between me and Misty, well . . . the twenty-two months I spent in prison for my fun white-collar crime taught me two things: That Uncle Sam has no sense of humor, and how to kill a man with my bare hands.”
Axel rolled his eyes. He did not have time for Stone’s posturing now. If the dude wanted to impress upon him how much he wanted Sweet Pea, message received.
“I’ll call you when I’m back at Dominion.” And before Stone could answer, Axel hung up.
Then he placed a call to Callie. The woman answered on the first ring. “Hey, Axel. All okay? How’s Mystery?”
“Sleeping,” he murmured. “Do you happen to know if she left her phone behind?”
“Actually, I found it on the floor of Thorpe’s old bedroom last night. I stashed it in his office. Do you want me to send it somewhere?”
Axel didn’t think they could afford to stay at this remote house for more than twenty-four hours before the bad guys—whoever they were—closed in. Even if Callie overnighted the device, he doubted they’d be spending that much time on this farm. “No. Just tuck it away. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Will do.”
“You all right? You don’t sound like your usual chipper self this morning,” he asked with concern. “Morning sickness still bothering you?”
“More like morning, noon, and night sickness. Ugh. I’ll be so glad to get past my first trimester. I’m praying it gets better.”
“I hope so, but I’m sure Thorpe and Sean are spoiling you silly.”
“Completely.”
Axel heard the sigh in her voice and smiled. Callie deserved happiness. So did Thorpe, for that matter. And Sean seemed like a good guy, so if those two made her happy, then he was thrilled for them.
“Good deal. Talk to you later.”
“Bye!”
They rang off, and Axel eased from the bed and shoved on his jeans. He hit the head down the hall and brushed his teeth, then jogged down the stairs for some coffee.
In the kitchen, he spotted Heath sitting alone at the table with an iPad and a cup of brew he’d probably pushed aside some time ago.
“Morning,” he said, banging around the cabinets for a cup.
“Your four a.m. rendezvous was only slightly quieter than last night at Dominion. Can’t you two keep it down?” He sounded somewhere between sour and pissed off.
“We tried.” Axel shrugged. “Protecting your delicate ears wasn’t my number one priority. Where’s Mystery’s aunt?”
“She ran to pick up her dry cleaning and hit the post office to mail off some bills before her big mission trip.”
“Makes sense. You working on something?”
Heath sent him a noisy huff, then glanced down at the tablet’s screen. “Because I dislike loose ends, I reached out to see if I could get a record of everyone who requested a parking pass in Angeles National Forest the day Julia Mullins died. The typical request takes six weeks to process. They’ll ‘rush’ it and give me an answer within two.”
“That’s useless,” Axel quipped. “Like the security footage from the hotel.”
He filled Heath in on Stone’s findings, sipping coffee and trying to figure out how the hell to solve this long-unsolved murder.
“So we’ve got nothing,” he summarized, sending the former MI5 agent a speculative glance. “If you were playing amateur sleuth, who’s your best suspect?”
“Well, until you showed me that snapshot on your phone, I would have suspected some slighted paramour of Mr. Mullins. Certainly, some starlet or another would have liked to cast herself in the role of wife to the famous widower.”
“Good point. I guess the man on the mountain with Mystery’s mother could be hired muscle. But if that’s the case, why is he wearing a perfectly pressed business suit to commit murder?”
“It wouldn’t be my first choice of wardrobe for the occasion.” Heath shook his head. “That white shirt would show every speck of blood. Black is much better for concealing nasty stains.”
“Yep.” Axel had no doubt they both knew that from experience. “So the police report isn’t going to give us anything new. All the follow-ups we have are dead ends. Mystery has told us everything we know. Have you ever asked Mullins about his wife’s murder?”
“I tried once. He made it clear that anything to do with her death was a very closed subject.”
A grieving man wanting to lick his wounds in private? Or something more? Yes, the famous director had been ruled out as a suspect, and he apparently hadn’t hired the Asian Mafia enforcer he’d known to commit the murder. That wasn’t to say, however, that he hadn’t found another capable assassin.
“Have you tried to follow any sort of money trail from Mullins’s accounts around the time of the murder?”
“No. I don’t have any notion if he’s the sort of fellow who would want his wife dead, but I can’t imagine he’d want any harm to come to his daughter. He loves her.”
“That’s my sense, too,” Axel agreed. “I think we’re going to have to talk to Mullins, his daughter, and her aunt today.”
“I’m not hopeful we’ll figure out much, but I’m afraid we’ve got nothing else.” Heath kicked back in his chair, set the tablet