Wicked Pursuit: A Black Rose Auction Book
Wicked Pursuit: Chapter 7

“Ruby, I know you’re entering your loveable slut era, but there are lines.”

I carefully apply brilliant-scarlet lipstick in the mirror. “You’ve been to the Broken Tree before.”

“Yeah, which is why I know it’s a bad idea.” Michelle clears her throat. “Look, that was the one place where my dad lost his shit and stepped in. Do you know how humiliating it is to be collected by your father at a bar? Now multiply that by two because that’s what you’ll be experiencing when your dads replace out.”

“They aren’t going to replace out.” I finish with the lipstick and admire the effect. “I look good.”

“Of course you do.” Michelle actually seems worried in the video chat on my phone. “At least let me come with you.”

“No.” I finger comb my hair a bit to give it a just-been-fucked look. “The last thing I need is Uncle Hook ruining my fun, which is what he’ll do if you step foot in that place again.”

“Ruby.” Michelle leans back. “If you want to fuck someone dangerous, we can make that happen. You were acting reckless last night, but this is on another level. We could go to the Underworld⁠—”

I stop her with a glare. “You know damn well why I’m not going to the Underworld—which is the same reason you don’t go there. The last thing I want is for people who are practically family to witness me getting kinky and wild.” Not that I’m overly kinky by nature . . . or at least I haven’t explored that because where would I explore that? At the Underworld, where my parents have a damn sex date every Saturday? No, thanks.

“Ruby.” Michelle sighs. “Meg can be very discreet. She’s set up a session for me a time or two in one of the private rooms. We could⁠—”

“No.” If the situation were different, that might actually be an attractive offer, but the one thing the Underworld doesn’t have is my stalker. Wolf. Which should be a mark in the positive column. Safe, sane, and consensual are the hallmarks of good kink. There’s nothing safe or sane about meeting a man who’s been stalking me, one I suspect of being a murderer, in a bar that’s decidedly not safe. Can’t pretend it’s not consensual, though. He’s hardly showing up and kidnapping me.

The thought makes my thighs clench, which just goes to show that I’m not acting rationally. I don’t care. I’m in a free fall, and I don’t know whether I’ll land safely or smash myself to pieces. It doesn’t matter, because it’s too late to stop. “I’ll text you when I get there and do regular check-ins.”

Michelle worries her full bottom lip. “If something goes wrong⁠—”

“It won’t.”

“You can say that with all the confidence in the world, but that doesn’t mean you can brazen your way out of a bad situation.” She hesitates. “What’s going on with you?”

“If you want to talk about what’s going on with me, then maybe we should talk about what happened last night. Were you pissed because Zayne wanted to fuck Tatiana or because she wanted to fuck us?”

Her expression closes down. “Neither. It had nothing to do with that.”

“Okay, then what was it about?” When she doesn’t immediately answer, I nod. “Thought so. I love you, I appreciate you, and I’ll call you later.”

“Goddamn it, Ruby!”

I hang up and step back, getting a good look at myself in the mirror. Michelle’s right to be worried. I’m out for trouble. My black skirt barely covers the essentials, and I left off panties, as ordered. My crimson top is a faux-leather underbust corset that leaves a slice of stomach exposed and does wonders for my breasts, which are only covered in a matching lace bra. My only practical choice is my footwear; I went with chunky boots instead of heels.

The better to run for my life when this horrible plan inevitably goes south.

Why are you doing this?

I didn’t have an answer when I started getting ready. I still don’t have one an hour later when I walk through the door of the Broken Tree.

Michelle wasn’t joking. This place reeks of trouble. It’s dim and wreathed in smoke. Every single person here, regardless of gender, possesses an air of danger that has me fighting not to make myself smaller. I square my shoulders. I am not prey. I am the heir to the Belmonte territory, and I will not be cowed by a bar full of enforcers.

No one approaches me as I walk to the bar, but I can feel people’s attention trailing in my wake. The woman behind the bar is small and has medium-brown skin and bright teal locs. She raises her brows. “You lost?”

“Taking a different path tonight.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself. What’ll you have?”

“Bourbon. Straight.”

She smirks a little, but she pours me a stiff drink and accepts the cash I slide across the bar. Then she moves down to the next patron without another word.

I lean against the bar and sip my drink, letting the alcohol take the edges off the fear curling through me. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. What the fuck was I thinking? If I leave now . . .

I feel the change in the bar the moment he walks through the door. Even as I tell myself to maintain my position, I turn and look. Wolf. He has to be.

He’s older than I expected. I tell myself it’s not disappointment I feel at the silver in his long hair. He’s attractive in a brutal sort of way, pale skin weathered from the years. He wears a suit well enough; it’s expensive and tailored to his broad body. I doubt he’s one of ours, but he’s obviously high up in whatever territory he owes allegiance to. His dark eyes land on me, and he doesn’t hesitate to cross to stand in front of me.

I lick my lips. “Wolf?”

“Sure, baby.” His voice is different, coarser, but I suppose that’s to be expected when I’ve only talked to him on the phone.

I’ve come this far. I’m going to see this through. I step closer until our chests nearly brush. “I did what you told me.” I lower my voice. “No panties.”

He grins. “Let’s replace out.”

My heart beats too hard as he takes my hand and leads me back through the bar to the bathroom. It’s cleaner than I expected, but that’s about all it has going for it. Wolf shuts the door behind him, and then he’s pinning me to the counter and taking my mouth. He tastes like cigarettes, which is . . . not great. He palms my pussy roughly, which doesn’t feel bad, exactly, but it’s also . . . not great.

Damn, this is disappointing.

“No panties,” he murmurs against my lips. “I like it.”

He lifts me onto the counter and sinks to his knees before me. Okay, this is more like it. He said he’d have me on his cock inside of five minutes, but I guess we haven’t hit that time limit yet. Wolf flips up my skirt. “Nice.” Then his mouth is on my pussy, and yeah, I can get on board with this.

I relax into the feeling of his tongue dragging through my folds and then spearing inside me. Okay, this is better than nice. At least Wolf appreciates a good tongue fucking. He moves up to suck on my clit, drawing a little moan from my lips. “Fuck.”

Behind him, the door swings silently open.

My orgasm is bearing down on me, and at some point my hands found their way into his hair, so it doesn’t register at first that we’re no longer alone. At least until the masked man steps into the bathroom.

Did I think the silver fox with his tongue in my pussy had a dangerous aura? What a joke. My blood practically ices over the moment he steps into the room. His mask is a stylized skull with cheekbones that seem sharper than they should be, eye sockets deep enough that I can’t see his eyes, and teeth hiding his mouth. He’s dressed in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up and jeans, both totally nondescript. His mundane clothing doesn’t detract from the menace rolling off him in waves.

This is the real Wolf.

He eases the door shut behind him and leans against it, arms crossed.

Oh fuck. I’m in so much trouble. I try to pull on not-Wolf’s hair to get him off me, but he just moans and sucks my clit harder. Even with fear so thick in my throat that I can taste it—or maybe because of it—my orgasm rises again, sharper this time. “Stop,” I murmur. He doesn’t stop. And then it’s too late. I come with a cry that feels like a warning.

A warning he doesn’t heed. As soon as I orgasm, not-Wolf shoves to his feet, and his hands go to the front of his pants. He never gets a chance to get his cock out.

My Wolf moves. He grabs a fistful of the man’s hair and yanks his head back. I barely get a chance to scream before he slices a long knife over the man’s throat. Hot blood sprays my chest and thighs and pussy.

The body slumps to the ground, and Wolf takes his place. “You’ve been a bad girl, Red.” And that, that is the voice that’s been talking low and threatening to me on the other end of the phone.

“I—”

He grabs my hips and jerks me off the counter while spinning me around to pin me against it. In the mirror, his mask makes him look like a death god, come to punish me for my transgressions.

At my feet, the body is still twitching. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Wolf leans down until the cool surface of his mask touches my face. “Always so eager to give this pussy away to those undeserving.” He spears two fingers into me from behind.

I cry out, and I can’t begin to say if it’s in protest or demand for more. I brace my hands on the counter and tilt my hips, giving him better access. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” He wedges a third finger into me. He’s being rough, but fuck, it feels good. “But you will be.”

Against all reason, pleasure coils tightly inside me. He’s found my G-spot, and he’s working it in rough, short strokes. I can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but make a pathetic whimpering sound. “Wolf, please.”

He jerks his fingers out of me and flips me to face him. “Back on the counter.”

I resume my position on the bathroom counter. He clasps my throat loosely with one gloved hand. It kills me that I can’t see his eyes. I might as well be touched by some otherworld being. Too much distance, and yet I love it all the same.

“Open your legs for me and accept your punishment.”

I don’t hesitate. I spread my legs for him and moan against his hand around my throat as he shoves three fingers back into me. He circles my clit with his thumb and curls his fingers against my G-spot.

“Oh, f⁠—”

“What did I tell you about that language, Red?” He presses down on my throat, cutting off my air even as he winds me up higher and higher.

It feels so fucking good that I attempt to drag in a breath, but there’s no air to be had. I wrap my hands around his wrist, trying to get him to back off, but he just pins me harder. He’s not crushing me, but I can’t fucking breathe, and holy shit, oh gods.

I orgasm. It’s as if every bit of my panic transforms into pleasure, and he eases his palm back so I can drag in a long inhale of sweet oxygen, and then I’m coming even harder. It feels like my bladder is going to give out, and I squirt all over his hand and forearm. Only then does he start fucking me slowly with his fingers, in long strokes that draw my orgasm out. I look down and belatedly realize he’s still wearing his leather gloves.

He never actually touched me.

That shouldn’t matter . . . but it does. “Wolf,” I rasp. “You promised to have your cock inside me within five minutes.”

He slaps my pussy. Hard. “Next time, don’t give away what’s mine, Red.” He guides me to lean against the mirror, and then he moves back. He catches my hand and lifts it, the ring he gifted me glinting in the low light. “This marks you as mine, baby. Don’t forget it.” Before I can replace the words to make him stay, he slips out the door.

In the distance, there’s a familiar voice roaring, “Ruby, where the fuck are you?”

Oh shit. That’s Uncle Hook. Michelle ratted me out.

I barely have enough time to yank my skirt into place before the door flies open and in walks the man who’s my uncle in every way but blood. He’s nearly as tall as Da, though he’s built a little leaner, his long dark hair pulled back in a messy bun and his medium-brown skin flushed with anger. “Ruby!”

He stops short at the sight of me. At the dead man at my feet. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“I can explain.” Except . . . can I? I’m still not sure I’ve processed what the fuck just happened. I had the wrong guy going down on me. Wolf killed him. And then I came all over his hand while he choked me.

Uncle Hook shakes his head. “Not another word. We’ll take care of this.”

True fear flickers to life for the first time. “You can’t tell Da. Or any of them. You can’t.”

His dark eyes are sympathetic, but he’s already shaking his head. “It’s too late, Ruby-girl. They’re already on their way to my place. They’ll beat us there.”

I’m going to kick Michelle’s ass for this. I am in so much trouble.

Uncle Hook holds out his hand, his expression devastatingly kind. “Come here. Don’t look down.”

At the dead man at my feet. The one he obviously thinks I killed.

Didn’t I?

Wasn’t there part of me that knew he couldn’t possibly be Wolf? The vibe had been off, and I didn’t question it. I didn’t want to question it. Maybe part of me wanted to punish Wolf for not being the first one to actually talk to me. Maybe part of me wanted to call his bluff.

Joke’s on me.

There’s no window to throw myself out of, and Uncle Hook takes up most of the doorway. There’s no escaping what comes next. I curse myself for my recklessness and put my hand in his. He easily urges me over the dead body and whisks me out of the bathroom. The bar itself is empty but for the bartender.

She holds up her hands when Uncle Hook cuts her a harsh look. “I saw nothing.”

“No, you didn’t.” His gaze gentles on me, but there’s no opportunity to escape here either as he hauls me through the bar and out into the waiting SUV. It’s only when we’re safely inside and driving away that he speaks to me again. “You don’t have to answer this, not to me, but if it’s easier to talk to me than your parents . . .”

Understanding dawns, bringing with it even more humiliation. He’s asking if I was assaulted. If it was a justified kill. It would be so easy to lie, but I can’t. I just can’t. Not about that. “That’s not what happened.” Yes, he kept going even after I had tried to get him to stop, but if he hadn’t been about to be murdered, I don’t know that I would have stopped him… And, sure, he wasn’t exactly honest about who he was, but I didn’t slow down enough to verify… Gods, my head hurts. Maybe it turned into an attempted assault, but that’s not the real reason he’s dead and it feels wrong to pretend he died for any other reason than the selfish impulsiveness that led me to that bar with the intent to fuck my stalker.

Uncle Hook’s shoulders dip the tiniest bit. “If you⁠—”

He doesn’t believe me. “Jesus fuck, he didn’t do anything to me I didn’t want him to. I went back there of my own free will. Things got out of control, but not like that.”

His brows slam down, but he seems to rein himself in forcibly. Probably still wondering if I’m protesting too much. This man has been a fixture in my life since I was born. He won’t believe that I killed a man in cold blood any more than my parents will.

I didn’t kill the man in question, but that seems a small-enough detail considering the fact I’m responsible for his death. More unforgivable yet is the fact that my body still thrums from what Wolf did to me. I came harder with him than I’ve ever orgasmed with anyone else before. All with a dead man at my feet.