Lady Killer (Dead Girls Club #2)

12. Locke

Chapter twelve

Locke

“ . . . shouldn’t take so long to secure.”

Lucian’s deep voice sounded even more commanding over the Bang & Olufsen sound system of my new Lamborghini Urus.

My finger hovered over the End Call button as I weighed the costs and benefits of hanging up on him. Just as I was about to disconnect the call, Lucian’s voice barked out with renewed interest. “Are you listening?”

I silently snarled at the screen but withdrew my finger.

Did the bastard put cameras in my car?

“Yes, Lucian, you were complaining about how I do my job. One which you are welcome to take over if you believe you can do it better.”

Bullshit. I’d never let the brute ruin all my hard work.

“Careful, Locke,” he rumbled over the car’s speakers.

“The Statlers will be brought to heel. If they can’t be bought, they can always be bled. Now, is that all?”

Lucian huffed, and I could envision his broad face pinched in displeasure. “You’ll stay away from the girl.”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter and pressed down on the gas. “Outside the classroom,” I bit out.

“Locke.” His voice was low with warning.

“Hollow Oak is my domain, cousin. She will do as I see fit in my class. I don’t care what sort of games Everest thinks he’s entitled to play,” I said and hung up for real this time.

Fucking prick.

There was a time when no man would have dared to spill blood on Blackwell land. Now there was a serial killer running amuck, and that little ingrate was walking around with blood on her hands, unpunished.

Luz was lucky that my cousin had served his judgment already. Were it up to me, oh, how I would have made her pay . . .

Turning down the road that led to our family’s private airstrip, I weighed my options regarding the Torres girl for the thousandth time. Unfortunately, my calculations arrived at the same conclusion nearly every single time. Pushing Lucian too hard or indirectly breaking his promise by squeezing the life out of her with my own two hands would cost more than it was worth.

I parked the car near the entrance to the airfield and tossed the keys to the nearest staff member without instruction. They knew what to do. And if they didn’t, they were fired. Or worse.

I bounded up the stairs to the private plane, ignoring the earnest-looking staff waiting to greet me at the door, and made my way to one of the large leather seats before waving the flight attendant over.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Blackwell?” the buxom redhead asked suggestively. I considered taking my tension out on her.

The family owned a small fleet of jets, ranging in size, which were available for our personal use in addition to being rented out to our various subsidiaries. All the staff were thoroughly screened, highly trained, and traditionally very eager to . . . serve. An attribute I usually found quite arousing in a woman .

But ever since I’d become locked in a battle of wills with one particularly defiant brat, I’d found easy submission to be less of a turn-on than I remembered.

“Glenlivet, eighteen-year-old, neat. Make it a double,” I said brusquely, looking away from her to stare out the window.

There was always next time.

Punching in the code to the gate of my townhouse in Georgetown, I considered my options for the Statlers.

As the inquisitor of the family, my primary role tended to be more focused on the information-retrieval side of the business. Occasionally though, my skills were required to help acquire a more . . . challenging asset for the Blackwell empire. Most of the time, it was simply a matter of buying out other professional killers to bring them under our dominion. Others though, not surprisingly, took another kind of convincing.

Everest was more of a final solution. But if I came for someone first, they would be begging for his particular brand of mercy by the time I was done.

Killian and Jericho Statler had become quite the thorns in my side since their operation had grown large enough to warrant my family’s attention. Usually all it took was a little blood, sweat, and tears, not my own of course, and new players were subsumed or eliminated.

Not these two.

We were rapidly approaching the line between acquisition and annihilation.

When I’d landed, I received a message from one of our men that they had one of the Statler’s higher-ups waiting for me at the office. With that knowledge, I decided to take my time.

One of the first rules of interrogation was that time was on your side, not your subject’s. If they believed you needed the information more than they needed to escape you, you’d lost the upper hand already. It was easy enough to get it back with the right tools, but I refused to give up even a mote of power to someone who would soon be dead.

I unpacked my valise, placed an order for dinner from my favorite steakhouse, and sent the driver to fetch it, before taking a nice long shower to wash the grime of traveling off me.

You’ll stay away from the girl.

Fuck Lucian. He could posture and bark orders at me like a dog, but I was his second, not his bitch .

Everest and Alister couldn’t protect her from me forever.

Memories of her in my office collided with the tantalizing possibilities of the future, and blood rushed to the head of my cock.

I could see it, her, dressed up in another one of her ridiculous outfits. Eyes blazing with a defiance that should look preposterous on someone wearing knee socks but instead just made me want to force her submission even more.

She would resist, at first.

“I’d never beg an arrogant prick like you . . .”

Not the type to be cowed or bought, she would require a different tactic, something she couldn’t resist . . . a challenge.

“Are you certain of that? Because I’ve broken far more worthy adversaries than you.”

She trembled before collecting herself and pulling her spine straight. “I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game, sir.”

“Because this is an interrogation,” I said with a smirk.

Her breath hitched. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, sir?” I corrected, admiring her stifled rage as she bit down on her lip .

She choked out the words with pinched lips and narrowed eyes. “What do you mean . . . sir?”

I ran my hands down my thighs, smoothing out my pants, letting her stew and think the worst before responding. “Corporal punishment is a time-honored tradition and tool in the educator’s handbook.”

“Are you out of your mind? I’m not going to let you spank me!”

I raised my hand and cut her off. “Six spankings—one for your tardiness, one for your refusal to listen to my good advice, one for the disrespect you’ve shown in class, one for killing on my family’s land, one for bringing that lunatic to my lecture . . .”

Her eyes grew wider with each offense I listed.

“And one for the future, to remind you who is in charge. All you have to do, you wicked little creature, is keep your mouth shut, and you win.”

She froze.

I had her attention.

“What precisely would I win?”

“Sir,” I commanded once again.

“What precisely would I win, sir?” she said with venom in her eyes.

“I’ll leave you alone for the rest of your time at Hollow Oak, however long that may be.”

“And if I lose, sir?”

“You leave.”

Her mouth opened to protest once more, but the weight of what I was offering her started to sink in. This time when she spoke, her voice was rougher, lower. “All I have to do is let you . . . spank me?”

“And stay quiet, not a sound.”

She chewed on her lip as she considered her options, but I already knew what she would choose. “Six spankings, I don’t make a sound, and you leave me alone . . . sir?” She repeated the agreement back to me, and as I nodded, she extended her hand.

I took it swiftly in a crushing grip and pulled her body into mine. “It’s a deal. Now, I want you bent over my desk, and not another word.”

Her lips pursed in opposition, but I knew she couldn’t resist a challenge. She draped herself over the furniture, looking at me over her shoulder with disdain as she lifted her skirt to reveal a pair of simple pink cotton underwear. Normally, I would add another spanking for moving ahead without my instructions, but I was too busy savoring how her actions betrayed her desires.

Rubbing one hand over the firm globes of her ass, I dug my fingers as deeply into the flesh as I could, satisfied with the ragged breath it elicited from her .

This would be fun.

“You won’t be needing these.” I peeled back the underwear, gently sliding them down her legs. Brutality and softness worked together to confuse one’s subject and break down their defenses.

Once she was exposed to me, I used both hands to spread her ass wide and expose her pert tight holes. Her pussy was a dark mauve that matched the rest of her tan skin, and I fought the urge to swipe a taste of the glistening wetness I could see collecting there.

What a wicked little creature, to deny what we both so clearly wanted.

“Normally, I would make you count out each one, brat, but I’m not inclined to give you a single outlet of release. So, I’ll do the counting, and you won’t make a fucking sound.”

The sharp inhalation of her breath was the only thing I heard.

Placing one hand on the base of her spine, I deliberately held back the first strike, knowing that the anticipation was agony for her. I waited . . . and waited . . . and then, only when I saw her thighs shift against each other, did I strike.

SMACK!

Her hips bucked forward, but I kept her firmly pinned in place. “That’s one.”

I waited again, although not quite as long this time before—

SMACK!

“That’s two.”

Her thighs pressed closer together as her nervous system tried to ground itself in the face of conflicting information—pain and pleasure.

The sound of her breath was lost as my own grew labored and my head began to swim with arousal.

SMACK!

“Three.”

So far, she had remained silent, but that only spurred me on.

I could break her. I would break her.

Changing tack, I began to rub her rapidly reddening flesh. My other hand slid up her back to the base of her neck. “You’re taking this so well, you wicked creature . . .” I whispered, and her shoulders relaxed as I dug my thumb in to massage her and my fingers teased her roots.

“ . . . too bad it won’t be enough.”

SMACK!

Turning to her unblemished cheek, this hit landed harder than the rest, and it sent her head reeling up, only for me to force her back down.

“Four.”

And then before she could recover . . .

SMACK!

“Five.”

“Uhhh . . .”

And there it was, the softest of whimpers, but to my ears, it sounded like a symphony. “Oh, dear, you broke.”

Her head twisted against my grip to look at me, eyes round with dismay and unshed tears, mouth hanging open. She wanted to argue with me but knew that she couldn’t.

I had won.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you something to remember me by.” And I raised my hand to deliver the final blow . . .

“UHHHH.”

Back in reality, my groan tore from me as my balls tightened, and I came hard with a final few vicious strokes, spilling my release all over the shower wall.

My head hung heavy but clear.

I wasn’t able to get my hands on her yet . . . but Luz would submit.

They always did.