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Vicious Lies (Vicious City #2)
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She’s finally mine, but she’s far from safe.
She’s not making it easy.
I will do whatever is necessary to keep her safe.
And when she resists?
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“Tell. Me. Everything.”
I’m being interrogated. The demand is made in iron tones and I know that refusing to answer will end in pain. I want to give in. I need to give in. But telling everything is a lot. Far too much to be possible.
“I can’t tell you everything. I don’t even remember everything,”
“I have to know!”
“You know most of it already.”
“No, I don’t. You told me the gist, but I know you’re hiding the best parts. You always do. I have to drag it out of you every time. Do I need to get the thumbscrews?”
Dark eyes glower at me. I am not pleasing this demanding interlocutor at all.
“Listen, you seriously do know most of it. You were there for some of it. You saw!”
“You’re avoiding telling me what I want to know.”
I sigh. I don’t know why I even bothered trying to fob my best friend off in the first place. After days of enforced separation, Blaze has tracked me down for a debriefing. We’d usually do this at a coffee shop or a club, but my lord and master, in his mind at least, has decreed that I am not allowed to leave the apartment without supervision, so we’re sitting on the bed like a couple of teen girls and she’s quizzing me with a level of intensity usually reserved for people in black sites.
“Tell me everything. Every. Thing,” she emphasizes and repeats, both her hands curling around my forearm and giving it a squeeze and shake. Blaze is a little demon with her dark eyes, half shaved head, her clothes slashed and cut in a stylish way. She’s punk as they come, and today more than ever. Her pants are more absent than they are present. Her hair has enough product in it to be flammable. She has her boots up on the covers, her legs crossed. Blaze isn’t what you might call domesticated. She doesn’t give a shit about anybody’s rules, and especially not Vicious’.
“What’s there to tell?”
“Have you fucked him yet? I mean, has he fucked you? I know Vicious is going to be the one doing the fucking in this situation,” she smirks at me.
“No,” I say truthfully. “We haven’t had sex.”
It has been seven days since Vicious grabbed me off the street, saved my life and ruined it at the same time. One week is not nearly enough time to adjust to being the… what am I exactly? Not his girlfriend. Sort of an employee. An employee he makes orgasm on a regular basis. He’s looking after me, and I’m not used to it yet.
“He’s made you cum though, hasn’t he?” Blaze’s red smirk is vicariously carnal.
My blush tells her everything she needs to know. Yes, he has made me cum. He has made me orgasm in the most devious, twisted ways. He has made punishment and discipline synonymous with climax. If Blaze had any idea the things Vicious has done to me, she’d probably explode.
As it is, she lets out a little whoop of excitement. “Oh my god, Kitty. You’re finally getting laid!”
“I am not getting laid. It’s not like that.”
“Yes it is. He wouldn’t be keeping you here in this luxury apartment if he wasn’t going to have sex with you.”
“Well he hasn’t and we…” I splutter to a stop. “It’s not like that.”
“What is it like then? He obviously wants more than just work out of you. Have you given him a blowjob to thank him for saving your ass?”
“Ungrateful,” she teases me. “If a man saved my life, I would suck him so good his eyes fell out.”
“That’s good to know, Blaze.”
The man at the door is tall, blonde, and his lips are twisted in a smirk. HIs name is Slick, and he’s Vicious’ partner in crime. If they were a cop pair, Slick would be the good cop. He has natural charm, but he’s no less twisted than Vicious, at least, I’m pretty sure that’s the case. He’s kept it low key, but I’ve learned to sense fucked up instincts in a man. His Nordic good looks have a striking effect on pretty much everyone in his orbit, throwing some people off the scent, but I suspect that in the depths of his heart, Slick might even outshine Vicious in the twisted stakes.
Anyone else might blush at being caught talking about her oral skills, but not Blaze. She smiles broader. “You save my life you’ll find out how good I am.”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he reminds her. Blaze isn’t allowed in Vicious’ apartment. He doesn’t approve of her as a friend and he definitely doesn’t trust her. But Vicious isn’t here right now, and if he’s going to make me live here, then I’m going to have my friends over – as long as they’re game for the consequences.