Twilight's Possession - Burning Hunger Part 3

They were going to rape her.

Was it technically rape if she secretly, kind of-correction, really, really-wanted it?

"Wait!" She forced her eyelids open and shoved his chest. "Ohhhh!" His c.o.c.k inched inside her, and she screeched. A ripple of l.u.s.t pulsed through her body. "Noooo...ooooohhhh! Yes!"

What was she saying?

"OhmyG.o.d. Wait!" She tried to scoot up, to keep him from fully penetrating her, but he thrust his hips, seating himself to the root.

Her blood turned to liquid fire. Wild, wicked l.u.s.t raged through her body, flaring along her nerve endings like TNT blasts. Her senses amplified, the sounds of her own breathing and Marek's guttural moan. His scent burned her nostrils, sweet and tangy and intoxicating. His skin, hot and smooth, gliding against hers.

For the first time in almost ten years, she felt fully alive.

"Ooooohhh." She rocked her hips back then forward, clenching her inner muscles and taking him deeper. Her fingertips clawed at his chest. Her heavy eyelids fell, closing her in a black world of aching, powerful need and breath-stealing sensations.

"Yes. Accept what's yours," Marek murmured. He slowly withdrew then slammed deep inside again.

She cried out in grat.i.tude and agony. It was beyond words. Beyond understanding, the sensations he stirred. The s.e.xy slap of skin striking skin as he f.u.c.ked her. The erotic feeling of his heavy b.a.l.l.s bouncing against her a.s.s.

Someone was holding her knees, pulling them out and back. She was losing control-no, relinquis.h.i.+ng control. It was a willful surrender.

Yes, take me! Take control. Deeper! Harder!

For once in her life, she had no choice. She could no more resist following her impulses than she could resist sucking in her next breath. The nagging voice in her head screamed dire warnings. But for the first time in nine years, she tuned it out.

The last nuggets of her guilt squashed like ants trapped under an elephant's foot, she submitted fully, allowing the sensations battering her body to carry her away. Marek sat back, his body perpendicular to hers, lifting her hips to line up with his groin. The position both intensified his intimate strokes against the super-sensitive upper wall of her v.a.g.i.n.a and left her entire upper body exposed to both Marek and Dayne. Men's hands explored her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her stomach, her face. One mouth teased a nipple until she was almost crazy with need. Another plundered her mouth. A tongue thrust in and out, tasting and taking and mimicking the movements of Marek's c.o.c.k gliding in and out of her slick p.u.s.s.y. Her juices ran between her a.s.s cheeks, scenting the air musky sweet.

Dayne teased her c.l.i.t, drawing slow circles, round and round with a finger. Quivering with pent-up tension, she moaned her answer, "Yessssss..." and shuddered. The combination of Marek's thrusts, the strokes to her c.l.i.t, launched her toward a powerful climax. Her body shook as spasms pulsed through her muscles. She reached up, wrapped her arms around Marek's neck and clung to him. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s flattened against his sweat-slicked chest. Strong arms circled her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Deep, masculine moans filled her ears. He log-rolled, taking her place on the floor and pulling her on top of him.

Thanks to her change in position, Marek's thrusts deepened, lengthening the pleasure of her climax. Sensing he teetered on the brink of release as well, she angled her body up and rocked her hips back and forth, riding him hard and fast. She felt the muscles of his thighs trembling, his shoulders quaking. A second male body, Dayne's, crushed against her from behind. His mouth grazed the back of her neck, birthing a coat of gooseflesh over her upper body. His hands slid around her sides and flattened against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He pinched her nipples hard. The bite of pain mingled with the ecstasy of Marek's intimate strokes, bringing her to a swift second climax.

Riding the waves of bliss as Marek growled his release, she tossed her head back onto Dayne's shoulder. "Oh, yes!" She felt Marek's hot c.u.m shooting inside her, welcomed it with rough, desperate, grinding motions that forced him deep inside her.

Dayne released her nipples. The pain was gone instantly. The pleasure took longer to fade, thankfully. She flopped forward, buried her head in the crook of Marek's neck and relaxed, soothed by the warmth of two hard male bodies and deep, rumbly voices cooing promises of more pleasure for the next six nights.

When she tired of being in the same position, her muscles screaming in protest, legs aching to be stretched out, she started to squirm. Marek's now limp c.o.c.k slipped out. He grumbled something she didn't quite comprehend.

Dayne helped her stand.

Her legs were as wobbly as a newborn foal's. She teetered to the bed and let the Chippendales tuck her in.

Smooth, cool cotton sheets. Pillows that felt like clouds. And covers that coc.o.o.ned her exhausted body in warmth. She knew she was smiling like a goon as she drifted off to sleep but she couldn't help it.

That had been the most amazing, mind-blowing s.e.x ever.

"That's it," Marek said. She felt the mattress sink as he sat beside her. He caressed her cheek. "Sleep now. You need rest. Your clue will be here when you wake." He bent down and gave her a sweet, soft kiss on the cheek.

Despite her determination to stay awake and see the clue, she was asleep before they walked out of the room. The last thing she saw were her two Chippendales looking down upon her, satisfied smiles on their faces, their arms crossed over broad, tanned chests, muscles bulging and bunching and flexing.

Now that was a dream!

Chapter Three.

The end is only the beginning.

What kind of clue was that? Sounded more like a bit of worthless wisdom she might find inside a fortune cookie from her fave Chinese restaurant.

Brea wadded the sc.r.a.p of paper into a ball and lobbed it across the room. She should've known they wouldn't keep their word. Kidnappers? Moral? What had made her think they'd help her solve her case? After all, they'd stooped to breaking the law to bring her here. And d.a.m.n near raped her too.

Why did they bring her here? She had to believe it was because of her case. That was the only explanation that made any sense.

Although that didn't explain why all that other stuff had happened. The naughty but kind-of-yummy stuff. Surely there was no need to seduce her if they were merely trying to keep her from her case until the artifact could be sold on the black market.

Or was there?

G.o.d, she felt used. Dirty. Ashamed. Just like she had years ago, when she'd been drunk and asked her best friend Steve to blindfold and tie her up. Just for fun. It had been naughty and exciting. At first. He tickled her. Teased her. Kissed her. But then something happened. The teasing and laughter stopped. He told her only s.l.u.ts liked that kind of thing. He ripped her clothes. Climbed on top of her. Forced her to do things she hadn't been ready to do yet. Thanks to the bindings, she'd been powerless to stop him.

Her first time. The loss of her virginity.

Even though she'd enjoyed parts of the experience, she'd called it rape because she couldn't accept the alternative. He'd called it something else. The immediate effect-their friends.h.i.+p was over. The long-lasting effect-she had very mixed feelings about herself, her desires and her curiosity about being dominated, seduced, forced.

Her body tended to take a full-steam-ahead att.i.tude. Her brain tended to put on the brakes. Like now. All the tingly, achy parts were pretty happy with what had occurred. But her mind wanted to deny all that stuff had even happened. G.o.d, what had she done? She grimaced as she scooted to the edge of the enormous mattress and wobbled across the room on rubbery legs to the bathroom.

Her issues with s.e.x aside, this was all so unlike her. Since she'd drowned in that icy river those many years ago, she'd lived a life of caution, determined to never again put herself in harm's way. Yet contrary to what some people said, her fears did not rule her life. Those people just didn't understand. Once you die, nothing's the same.

So why had she acted so out of character earlier? s.e.x with a stranger? No rubbers? Talk about putting oneself in harm's way. She'd willfully walked into a swirling whirlpool of potential disaster. There's no way she'd do that if she'd been in her right mind.

They had to have drugged her.

She took a quick shower, scouring away the odors of man and s.e.x. The guilt didn't wash away as easily.

A half hour later, she was clean and wet but still full of regret. Wrapped in a fluffy white lilac-scented towel, she checked the clock as she padded barefoot into the bedroom. It was a little after five a.m. The Sacred Triad had been stolen over twenty-four hours ago. Instead of goofing off here, playing hide-the-sausage with a couple of conniving kidnappers, she should've been at home, doing research, preparing for her trip. If she didn't get cracking, the case would be stone cold before she'd even gotten started.

She rummaged in the closet for some clothes that fit her reasonably well-meaning they didn't fall off. She then eased into the cozy wingback chair parked in front of a round table to pull on some socks. As she stuffed her feet into the socks, she eyed the silver tray on the table. A covered plate of something that smelled scrumptious sat in its center. In addition, several gla.s.ses of liquids, plus a can of Diet c.o.ke and a small container of milk, crowded the upper edge of the dish, competing for real estate with several covered gla.s.s bowls.

She'd been starving hours ago, when her captors had first brought her here. So she was grateful for the food. But evidently her kidnappers expected her to be thirsty as well. Way thirstier than normal. Probably a side effect of the drug they'd given her.

b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

Out of nowhere, a little frisson of desire sizzled up her spine.

Where the heck did that come from? She'd had so few lovers in her life she could count them on two fingers. And not once had they affected her like those two snorting, overmuscled lawbreakers. What was her deal?

She'd paid weekly visits to her counselor, Bob, since she'd gone home from the hospital after the accident. After nine years of picking her brain and scrutinizing her every thought under a microscope, he figured he knew her inside and out. She'd love to hear his take on this. Knowing him, he'd suggest it was some kind of subconscious reaction to the many years she'd played things safe.

Shrinks. Everything was a subconscious something-or-other. p.e.n.i.s envy. Whatever.

Her take-it was simply a moment of insanity brought on by stress. Yeah. That made sense.

Or maybe they'd given her that date-rape drug?

That made even more sense, considering the little jolts of erotic heat buzzing and zapping through her system hours afterward, and despite the guilt and regret and anger.

It had been quite a long time, over twelve hours since they'd kidnapped her from the mall. Twelve hours was a long time for a drug to stay in a girl's system. Still, all in all, out of the three explanations that one made the most sense.

Suddenly aware of how ravenous she was, her mouth flooding with saliva, she lifted the metal lid off the plate. She'd need her strength if she was going to escape.

But what if they'd seasoned the food with Xanax? Or worse? Shoot, she was so hungry she was dizzy. Wouldn't hurt to take a look. Right?

Steak. Baked potato with the works and string beans smothered in b.u.t.ter. Oh, she was in heaven! Who needed eggs and toast for breakfast?

She checked the bowls circling the plate, lifting little paper covers. A tossed salad with ranch dressing. A second bowl cradled steamed veggies. And lastly, a brownie topped with chocolate ice cream, the whole thing smothered in chocolate syrup, sat in a third bowl.

She saw no traces of white powder, sensed no suspicious smells. She dipped the tip of her finger in the sour cream and took a tentative taste.

No funny flavor. Tasted like sour cream.

She picked up her fork and knife and cut a piece of the meat. She chewed slowly, moving the meat around in her mouth, alert to every nuance of the flavor, texture and smell. Again, no red flags.

Giving herself the All Clear, she dug in.

So this was how a girl "served" the Chippendales? Sleep, eat like there was no tomorrow and...and play?

If she could convince them to one, give her some useful clues, and two, leave out the s.e.x part, it might be tempting go along with their plan.

Drugs, a subconscious rebellion or simple madness, she wondered what it might be like to spend some more time with her kidnapping Chippendales, Dayne and Marek.

Wouldn't Bob her therapist have some fun delving into her subconscious now?

Savoring a mouthful of vegetables, she shook away those silly thoughts. Time to get serious. She couldn't afford to sit around this place, playing Queen of the Chippendales while some thief was out there trying to sell her statue-or rather, her client's statue.

This was one job she needed to keep for a while.

She scampered across the room, uncrumpled the wadded clue and plopped in her seat. While consuming a steak more tasty and tender than the Outback's very best filet, she pondered the puzzling clue.

The end is only the beginning.

Uhhhhh... Would that imply the converse-the beginning is the end?

Ack. What did it mean?

The end. The beginning.

She was so NOT into riddles. The cla.s.sic What's black and white and red all over? still stumped her.

Naturally, a job solving cases-a.k.a. following clues and riddles-was far from a logical choice for a girl who couldn't solve her way out of a paper bag to save her life. But she was far from stupid. And after having lost her last job, and starving through close to six months of unemployment, she had no other choice. The economy was tight these days. Jobs were hard to come by. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

Heck, she'd even been turned down by all the local fast-food joints. Seemed she was overqualified to nuke frozen hamburgers. Underqualified for the better jobs, like nurse anesthetist or certified public accountant. She was kicking herself now for not listening to her grandmother and going to nursing school.

Which left her back at square one-a job she needed.

And beginnings and endings.

As far as her case went, what was the end? She knew what she'd like to see in the end. The statue would be returned to the owner and everyone would live happily ever after.

What was the beginning? The crime? The statue was stolen from the client's home. Did this clue mean the owner had the statue? Or the owner was the thief? Or...what?

Okay, if her client had stolen the statue, why would he make a police report?

Insurance?

A distinct possibility. It wasn't like that had never been done before. Definitely worth checking out.

But why hire a private investigator if he'd faked the whole thing? He was risking being caught. In her book, hiring a private investigator to solve a crime you'd committed had to be one of the top three stupidest things to do. If she'd stolen her own statue for insurance money, the last thing she'd consider doing is hiring someone to poke around. She'd rather rely on the overburdened police department to fail, and merrily skip to the bank with the insurance check.

That was it. She needed access to a computer. She needed a phone. And she needed to get the heck outta here.

By the time she'd polished off the last bite of the ice cream and brownie sin, she'd determined her hosts owed her another clue and her freedom. They'd give her both, or something unpleasant was going to hit the fan.

Smiling to himself, Marek shut down his laptop and scribbled down the second clue on a piece of paper.

As he'd hoped, Brea would serve more than one vital purpose. His plan, which had involved a call in to her employer and a morning tailing her, waiting for the perfect opportunity-while keeping the truth from Dayne-had gone exactly as he'd hoped. She'd prolong his life, and she'd lead him to the Sacred Triad, thereby helping him save his brother's life.

If only he had some better clues to give her! Whoever was feeding his security team these vague bits of evidence needed to give them something useful. That riddle-found by the relic's last know owner, scrawled on a sc.r.a.p of paper left in the artifact's storage case-was hardly the smoking gun he was hoping for. But Marek's brother Kaden had been absolutely certain it would somehow lead them to the Triad.

This was going to take some time.

He only hoped the thief didn't know the true power of the Triad.

If he did, all Immortals were in danger, especially the brother he loved more than life itself.

Dayne punched the power b.u.t.ton, cutting off the call.

He would have his revenge. A new plan was in motion and by the G.o.ds, this one wouldn't fail. His family's death would be avenged. He'd give his own life if necessary.

Fortunately, it didn't look like that would be needed.