Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen
“Are you certain?” Frankie asked, gyrating his hips slightly so as not to make the two onlookers suspicious.

Gloria tried to start up a rhythm to do the same while keeping her eyes on the two men watching them from the upper balcony. Each wore either side of the same mask to conceal their faces. She wanted to laugh at the symbolism of it, the absurdity. However, it did allow her a clear view of their faces, enough to make a positive ID.

“Absolutely,” Gloria said, lifting her hips up. 

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, dragging his teeth across her skin in the way that made goosebumps rise in their wake and her pussy to clamp around him harder. 

“No,” she whispered, her voice clogged halfway down her throat beneath the more urgent desire to take everything she could while the two men watched. Two men who thought they owned her. Thought she had no choice of her own. Thought they had beaten her down when all they’d succeeded in doing was giving her reason to fight, to rise up.

“You want them to see me take you?” he asked, his own voice belying the heat he felt beneath his skin for what they were doing.

“No,” Gloria’s fingers tightened at the nape of his neck so she could pull his head back. The fingers of her right hand wrapped around his chin. “I want them to watch me take what I want.”

She kept his head pinned back as she rolled her hips over him. Frankie’s eyes closed and a low rumble rose up through his throat that only made her want him more. Gloria let go of his chin to push more of his robe aside. She ran her fingernails across his tattoos and down his torso, making him shiver violently. She had not expected this: the rush, the need, the thrill of having him while someone, everyone, watched. He was right. It wasn’t the act itself that was hot, wild, fun. It was the thrill of knowing everyone wanted a taste of what she had, but none would ever be able to quench their thirst as she, alone, was the only one allowed to drink from it. 

Gloria opened her eyes but Sergei and Asher were no longer there.

“Fuck,” she hissed.

“What?” Frankie asked on a groan as he placed his hands on her hips and helped her stay on task. 

“Asher and Sergei, they’re moving,” Gloria whispered against his neck.

“Damn, the plan doesn’t change, Vixen. Time to head for that private room,” he told her, shoving her back, breaking their connection in a way that made her entire body fold inward at the loss. 

Frankie stood and tucked himself into his briefs. His eyes were hooded, dangerous, calculating, as he took the two steps he needed to eliminate the space between them. Whether wanting to appear still in the throes or actually still being in the midst of mindless lust, Frankie cupped her throat between his hands and crashed his lips against hers. She should have taken in air before he’d done so, but she had been caught off guard by the heat of the moment. She started to see specks of colors behind her eyelids before he released her, bent to grab her ass and hauled her up to his waist. 

Gloria wrapped her arms desperately around his neck and locked her ankles behind his back as he carried her in the direction of the rooms on the edge of the floor. He took the stairs two at a time, all while continuing to suck her lips between his teeth and fight her tongue for dominance. It seemed counterintuitive to head toward where she'd last seen the two men; however, for their plan to work, they would need to be on the top level.

Gloria landed hard against a door. She broke away and gasped as he turned the doorknob and made his way inside. The next thing she landed on was soft, a couch.

“Two minutes,” Frankie whispered desperately, pulling down her bra enough to shove her breasts together and bite at the space in which they joined. 

Her underwear was still unzipped and he pulled himself free from his briefs. 

“Frankie!” Gloria cried as he plowed into her. His thrusts were wild, chaotic, powerful as he sought a release for both of them in a timeframe they didn’t have. She desperately gripped the arm of the couch her head was pinned against. “Ah, the… the plan. We have to… ah, fuck it,” Gloria gasped, ripping off his mask so she could grab hold of his hair as some form of stability. 

“One-sixteen, one-seventeen, one-eighteen, one-nineteen, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Frankie cursed as he pulled out of her again. He raked his hands through his hair and stood away from her as though being too close may make him lose his mind again. “Find some kind of weapon, Vixen. Hurry.”
Gloria stared upward at the ceiling in a daze, trying to remember where she was, let alone why she needed to find a weapon. 

“Gloria, up!” Frankie growled, shoving over a leather chair in the corner. 

She turned her head and watched him pull at the fabric on the bottom side of the chair. He brought his foot down hard, snapping the wooden supports hidden in the frame. He held up what was now a wooden stake fit to kill Dracula and looked around the room for her. His eyes returned to the couch and his entire expression fell into one of disappointment. 

“Gloria, I need you to…”

The door opened and Asher Thompson took two harsh steps inside, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared in anger. He held a gun by his side, which he lifted to aim at her head.

Gloria lifted her hand and gave a flirtatious wave. “Hello, Asher. I’d invite you to join but my fiance hasn’t finished with me yet.”

“Fiance?” Asher asked, his back straightening in surprise. 

A resounding crack echoed through the room as Frankie used the stake of wood as a bat against the back of Asher’s head. The villain’s eyes rolled upward as he fell forward. Shouts erupted from the doorway and Frankie swiveled in time to meet the five other men storming into the room. He kicked his foot back, sending Asher’s handgun across the floor in Gloria’s direction. As he met the first man with his makeshift weapon, Gloria grabbed the gun and fired, hitting one of the men between the eyes. Frankie plunged the sharp end of the stick into a third man’s chest while Gloria made quick work of the remaining two. Frankie hauled the two men blocking the entryway inside and kicked the door closed. She watched him run his fingers through his hair and take a deep breath before he turned. Frankie smacked the wood against his open palm. 

“You deviated from the plan again, Vixen,” Frankie admonished with a shake of his head.

“Did I?” she teased, biting her lip as he walked toward her while continually smacking the wood against his palm.

“Mhmm, this time you’ll get punished. Turn over and let me see that tight ass of yours,” Frankie ordered, circling his finger in the air to signal for her to get on her knees. 

Asher started to groan behind him. Frankie dropped his head back to stare up at the ceiling and sigh in aggravation.

He pointed the wood at her. “You got punishment coming, Gloria Rubanov. The longer it takes for it to be doled out, the worse it becomes.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Gloria said, pulling herself up into a sitting position while Frankie grabbed Asher by his collar and dragged him to the other leather chair in the room. “Look how kind he is,” Gloria said, pulling down a rope from the wall adorned with various tools for sexual play. She looped the rope around her hands, turned and snapped it. Frankie’s eyes lit on fire as she cocked her hip. “Left us all kinds of toys for us to use to have fun with him.”

Frankie returned to stand in front of her and took the rope from her hands. He cupped her throat and kissed her. “If I hadn’t felt your hymen break myself, Vixen, I’d question the fact that you were an inexperienced little virgin not even two months ago,” he whispered against her lips before groaning and pulling himself away to tie Asher up. 

“The… fuck… happened?” Asher asked as he came to. His head lulled back and he hissed as the spot Frankie whacked pressed against the chair. 

“Batting practice,” Frankie said from behind him as he cinched the rope tight. “Turns out my dreams of going pro may have to wait a few years. Gotta work on my swing.” 

Asher tested his restraints and sneered in frustration. “Let me go now, Frank. Sergei will be here any…”

“I don’t think so,” Frankie interrupted, coming around to stand in front of the arms dealer. He crossed his arms and shook his head. “He’s gone down into the tunnels again to look for his men.” Frankie leaned forward and smiled. “I’m guessing there were some communication issues?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing Jimmy Jones,” Frankie said, standing straight again, proud of himself.