A Soul Redeemed Read online

  Finishing his drink, he pulled out two twenties and waited until she’d finished her rounds. The moment she brushed the tip of her index finger across his cheek, he issued a low and husky growl.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” Lola whispered as she leaned against the bar.

  “Just busy, darlin’. Life has many challenges.”

  “Yes, you are absolutely correct.” Her hand flitted down the length of his chest to his crotch, a slight smile on her face. “You’re in need.”

  “As always.”

  There was no reason to waste time chitchatting, no requirement for a date. He eased off the bar stool and nodded toward the door. “I brought the car tonight.”

  “Mmm… Better.” She winked as she fluffed her hair and headed for the entrance.

  They both remained quiet on the drive, yet her hand never left his thigh, her index finger brushing back and forth, as if time didn’t matter.

  When he arrived at his apartment, he did open her door, treating her like the lady deserved. The moment they were inside and away from prying eyes, she came alive.

  She pushed him against the wall, her hands kneading his chest, and licked underneath his chin. “I’ve hungered.”

  “Mmm… You’ll have everything you want,” Nash stated, the tone commanding. He allowed her to play, nipping his chin, his neck and shoulder blade before pushing her back. There were no commands issued, not a single additional word uttered, but she knew her place. Submissive.

  Taking a step back, she eased first one strap of her dress past her shoulder then the second, her eyes never leaving his. As she gave a single shimmy, she purred, every move dramatic. The dress floated to the floor, exposing her naked and sultry body underneath. She kicked the dress aside and left on her stilettos, striking a pose then turning in a full circle.

  He inhaled, drinking in her perfume, almost instantly intoxicated from the exotic scent. Grunting, he jerked his shirt over his head and pulled off his boots then advanced, rubbing the flats of his hands down from her neck to her breasts.

  She shivered from his touch and tilted her head back, exposing her lithe neck.

  Nash cupped her breasts, squeezing as he lowered his head, sucking on her tender skin. The moment he pinched her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, she whimpered, her legs going slack. Using a single finger, he trailed a zigzag line down her stomach, circling her bellybutton then down to the skin just above her pussy. Every move was slow, calculated.

  Lola shifted, sliding her ass back and forth across his groin.

  Chuckling, he brushed the tip of his finger around her clit until a single moan pushed past her ruby stained lips. “Have you been a good girl?” He thrust the entire length of his finger inside her pussy, savoring the way her cunt muscles constricted around the invasion.

  “Never.”

  “Bad girls are punished.” He released his hold and slipped his finger inside his mouth, suckling until the noise made her smile. She knew what he would do next, could hear him unbuckling his belt, removing the thick leather from the belt loops.

  She looked off to the side, her eyes half open then moved toward the wall, placing her palms out to the side, widening her legs as far as they would go. Pushing out, she arched her back, the offering blatant.

  Crack!

  The single slap against the tile floor caused her to whimper, yet her expression was one of pure bliss. Nash doubled the strap then rubbed the belt down her neck and spine to her buttocks. Moving the implement back and forth across her ass, he knew he couldn’t wait much longer. His cock ached, pinching against his tight jeans.

  “Whip me, sir.” The words were whispered, yet powerful.

  He eased the leather between her legs, rubbing the material up and down her wet pussy. “You’re wet. In need.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Taking a step back, he dragged the belt under his nose then issued the first severe round of discipline. The moment he snapped his wrist, he tossed his head back.

  Crack! Slap! Pop! Whap!

  “Oohh!” Her fingers curled under and she rose onto her toes, but she held her position.

  Smack! Crack! Pop! Crack!

  Beads of sweat trickled down from his forehead and he took a step back admiring his work. Flexing open his fingers, he pulled the tips down her back. She was trembling with anticipation.

  Crack! Crack! Slap! Pop! Smack!

  Nash only waited for three seconds before he began again, issuing the punishment with a practiced hand. His heart raced, his mouth was bone dry and he blinked in an effort to focus.

  “More, please, sir.”

  He breathed out, allowing the full breath to escape before he began again.

  Pop! Crack! Slap! Smack! Crack! Crack!

  When he finished, he wrapped the circled belt around her neck, pulling backward until she was against his chest and legs. “I’m going to fuck you.”

  This wasn’t about love or making love. This was raw, heated and carnal. She slithered to the floor on all fours, waiting, her head high, her back arched.

  Nash removed his jeans and bent down on one knee, his foot placed to the side. He twisted his hand around the leather strap until the belt began to pinch her neck. Then he shoved his shaft inside her pussy, the force pushing her forward.

  “Oh God!” Lola struggled to stay in position as he repeated the move, the sound of his balls slapping against her thighs mixing with his savage grunts.

  He watched as sweat dripped down onto her back and continued pounding, his heart racing as adrenaline flowed high. She was wet and so hot, enjoying every hard thrust. He gripped her hip as he continued, digging his nails into her skin. Harder and faster he plunged, his breath skipping, until his balls ached to explode inside of her.

  She tossed her head to the side, her eyes wide open and gave him a provocative smile.

  The moment she clamped down, squeezing his cock like a tight vice, he roared, exploding deep inside. His entire body tensed, his muscles screaming as he pumped, allowing every drop of semen to flow. Panting, he waited until his body stopped shaking before releasing his hold.

  The belt slipped from around her neck, dropping to the floor. She bent down, pressing her lips against the taut leather and shifted her arms out to the side.

  Nash scooted back and brushed both hands through his sweaty hair before crouching down, lifting and widening her legs. He lowered his head, pressing his face into the crack of her ass. Opening her wide, he licked, his tongue lapping their combined cream.

  “Oh… Oh!” She came almost instantly, her pussy muscles convulsing, her hands pushing against the floor.

  He stuck his tongue deep inside her cunt, wiggling his head, savoring the taste. Using his fingers, he pulled open her ass cheeks then buried his tongue into her dark hole.

  Her body relaxing, she whimpered softly and closed her eyes.

  His heart continued to race as she undulated underneath him. Beads of sweat fell to her back, tracing a line along her backbone.

  When he was finished, he rose to his feet and walked to the couch. Waiting. Knowing exactly what she would do.

  Lola exhaled and after a few seconds, stood, grabbing her dress from the floor. By the time she walked toward the small bar, she was dressed, a smile on her face. She remained quiet as she poured them both a brandy then sat on his lap.

  The liquor was smooth, sliding down his parched throat. He rubbed her shoulder, his thumb moving back and forth. This was the perfect evening.

  He didn’t tell her he was leaving. There was no need. But they’d come together again, both sharing a desire few could understand.

  After all, he was a monster.

  Chapter 2

  “There’s my baby girl. We wondered where you were. The party is about to begin.”

  Veronica Easton lifted her sunglasses, fighting her innate desire to glare at her mother. She’d only arrived back in the United States the day before and the party was the only conversation worth mentioning. Not a si
ngle member of her family seemed to care that she’d spent fourteen months as a doctor in Africa, living in little more than a hut. She plastered on a smile as she walked toward her parents’ house. The late afternoon sun was scorching, leaving beads of perspiration trickling down the back of her neck. Texas heat was a bitch.

  “Mother. So good to see you. I did try and call.” She couldn’t help but notice that Jennifer Easton seemed off kilter, plastic. Then again, what was new? She grabbed her overnight bag, cringing inside. Even one night spent in the house of horrors was too much.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ve just been busy getting everything ready for the party. You know your father,” Jennifer rushed out, kissing her daughter on the cheek.

  You mean the servants have been getting everything ready. “I understand. I hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”

  “Nonsense. This is your homecoming.”

  Veronica didn’t need special radar to realize how hard her mother was trying to make this normal. There was nothing normal about life with Thomas Easton III. The State Senator had a way of fucking up everything. “Of course.” She hesitated before entering the house. When she did, she groaned. Nothing would ever change. Everything was perfectly coiffed but fake, untouchable. Life as a child meant living in a prison. “I see Daddy’s tastes haven’t changed.”

  “Don’t start, Veronica. Please just allow us to have a good evening. Okay?”

  She could smell the liquor on her mother’s breath. “That’s what I intend to do. Let me just go and freshen up.”

  “And you’ll want to change of course.”

  The dig was the same. Her mother had been forced into servitude, one of the reasons Veronica had fled. She rolled her eyes and continued up the stairs. Thank God, she was looking at a condominium of her own and far enough away, no one from her family would just stop by. The moment she walked into her bedroom, she burst into laughter. After all the years of being away at school, med school and her internship, then time with Doctors Without Borders, her parents hadn’t changed the room, other than removing her wall posters. To them, she would always be a little girl.

  After dropping the bag, she sat down on the bed. Telling her parents about the practice she wanted to open would prove to be interesting. Welfare patients. She could hear her father’s booming voice and the disdain in the tone now. Well, she wasn’t her father’s little girl any longer, not that she’d ever been.

  By the time she changed into her single and very useful little black dress and new heels, she was craving a tall glass of wine. Maybe four. She laughed at the thought and peeked her head out of her door. She could already hear the guests arriving. She eased her way down the back steps and directly into the kitchen. No one would look for her here.

  The hired help turned to look in her direction. She didn’t recognize a single person. Her father was gruff, nasty and usually ran through employees in little more than a few months. She grabbed a fancy looking canape and headed straight for the open bottles of wine, pouring a hefty glass of merlot. The staff knew better than to say a word. They were practiced, taught her father’s strict rules from day one and no doubt disciplined for any indiscretions or infractions.

  Just like she and her sister had been.

  Chuckling, she walked toward the back door, determined to get lost in the garden. She inhaled the sweet scent of her mother’s roses, the single flower allowed in the house. Roses were a reminder of Jennifer Stanley’s past, long before she met her controlling husband. She’d heard many stories about the beauty queen, winning every pageant in Texas and coming in second at the Miss America pageant. Sadly, she could no longer remember the year.

  Everything changed, including her outlook on life. Veronica was no longer the scared and awkward little girl. Medical school and spending time in the jungle had changed that. She’d come into her own, learning about the woman inside, her needs as well as her desires. She resisted laughing. Desires, as if she had any time for romance or there were any decent men for that matter. Being in the jungle for a full year hadn’t accentuated her love life.

  She sipped her wine and headed for the quiet solitude of the tropical area surrounding the pool. As she stood gazing at the shimmering water, she wondered whether a single person had relaxed in the pristine area since she’d left. No. The answer was easy.

  She walked toward the edge, gazing down at the lovely waterfall, mesmerized by the lapping water, the slight salt spray as it cascaded across the rocky formation.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  Tensing, she gripped the wine glass with enough force her knuckles turned white. What in the hell was he doing here? “Derek. Why am I not surprised that you’d be at the party?” She didn’t turn around to face him, not wanting to get sucked in by his dashing blue eyes. She’d been down that road one too many times.

  “I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Derek mused, the tone sounding as if he was hurt. He moved beside her but kept his distance.

  Perhaps he was afraid she’d knock him into the pool or worse. Their last parting had been as close to violent as she’d ever wanted to get. “Honestly? I couldn’t care less.”

  Exhaling, Derek shook his head. “The same old Ronny. A bad girl wrapped up in satin and lace.”

  She now regretted slipping into the slinky dress instead of her jeans and cowboy boots. “And you know better than to call me that. Doctor Easton will do just fine.” She took a sip of her wine, determined not to allow this man to bother her. He’d been fashioned for her as if out of a magazine. The right family, and one with money, he was supposed to be her knight. Yeah, too bad his sword had a double edge. He’d been her first lover, tender at first then encouraging her to delve into her submissive qualities, desires formed at an early age. She’d bought the bullshit. For a time. No longer.

  “Oh, come on. We were close once. I missed you while you were gone, gallivanting around South America or Mexico. Wherever.”

  Anger rushed into every cell. “Africa. I was working with diseased kids, those who were dying because they had no food or water and certainly couldn’t afford medical attention.” The words were spat, laced with fury.

  He calmly sipped what was no doubt whiskey and didn’t bother to acknowledge.

  “Why are you here?” She dared, shooting him a look. He was the same stunning man, a runner’s body and a model’s face. The slimy lawyer usually won every case, no matter if he was a lying coward.

  “Your father asked me here.” He darted a glance, his eyes falling on her chest.

  Veronica knew this was her father’s game. This time, she refused to play. She turned toward him, a snarl curled on her upper lip. “You can go ahead and leave. I won’t be giving you the time of day. Or anything else for that matter.”

  “Always the hard ass. What you need is a controlling man. When I own you, there will be no second guessing my needs or my wishes. You will follow orders.”

  At one point in her life, the words would have seemed thrilling. Now, they did nothing but disgust her. No longer was she enthralled by the man, his money or his power. His dominating games had been enticing, even peaceful. Until he’d turned into a monster. She tipped her head, holding the kind of smirk she knew he abhorred. “Over. My. Dead. Body.” When he reared back, as if he was going to smack her, she took a step closer. Go ahead, you son of a bitch.

  “There you both are. The guests are waiting for you.”

  Veronica heard her father’s voice, the beckoning tone that had been a part of his demeanor since she could remember. Tonight, neither man would see her sweat. Very slowly she turned her head, eyeing her father with the kind of disdain that had grown during her time away. “Certainly, Father. I wouldn’t want to miss one of your fabulous parties.” She walked past both, giving Derek a wink, yet a gnawing feeling remained in her gut. The two men were in cahoots and she was smack in the middle.

  She greeted the guests with the polished poise of the daughter of a wealthy man, every handshake firm, every smile prac
ticed. She knew her place, had been groomed since she was a mere child. “Mrs. Michaels. I’m so happy to see you again. You look amazing!”

  “When your father told me you were back, I was so excited for you.” Mrs. Michaels squeezed her hand and leaned in, kissing Veronica on the cheek and whispering, “Time for you to build a family, dear.”

  “Well, eventually.” Veronica moved on, clenching her wine glass for support. “Mr. and Mrs. Cabbish. I hear the business is doing well.”

  “You bet, girl. We are moving into the Rockies early next year,” Mr. Cabbish said as he swirled his beer. “Can’t keep a good cowboy down.”

  “You should come by the ranch. Our son is home from the war,” Mrs. Cabbish cooed as she winked.

  Walker Cabbish was a nice kid, but that was the way Veronica would always see him. Still, the two were genuinely good people, unspoiled by the wealth surrounding the rather jaded group of people considered closest to her father. “I will after I get settled. That’s a promise.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the darting looks Derek was giving her as he stood in the corner conferring with her father. What they were cooking up could be dangerous.

  When she’d made her way to the gleaming glass and steel bar, she breathed a sigh of relief and pointed to her glass. “Fill ‘er up.” Only a couple of hours enduring Hell and she could leave without seeming impolite.

  The sexy bartender nodded, his chiseled face and intense green eyes darting to the bodice of her dress. “Yes, ma’am. Anything at all you need, I’m at your service.”

  The dark-haired rogue God was the kind of man she could sink her teeth into, even if he was at least five years younger. “I might enjoy a snack later.” Yes, her behavior would be frowned upon. What in the hell did she care?

  “So, would I,” he murmured and poured her wine. His fingers touched hers as he slid the glass.