Damning Secrets

I hadn't been given time to devise an escape—which was probably the point. I barely had time to roll out of bed, shower, pull on a pair of shorts, and chain Honey to the wall before the knock came at the door. I knew he was coming before I heard the knock, though, because Honey was growling that particular growl she had. And she was baring her teeth. She was straining at the chain, anchored solidly in the wall, as it had to be, as I opened the door.

No preliminaries. I hadn't expected any. Jack was here either to fuck me or kill me—perhaps both. I had been anticipating this. Honey was on her hind legs, pawing at the air, yipping and growling to beat the band. She hated Jack something fierce. She had a good reason to. He always tried to laugh it off, but if Jack could be said to be scared of anything, it was Honey. And at seventy pounds of attack-trained, fierce German Shepherd muscle, Honey was something to be quite afraid of. I often wondered why Jack had put up with her, hadn't just put her down with one shot, as he had no reluctance to do with a man. But he answered that he would never harm an animal, which came across as sort of funny considering what he did—what we did—for a living.

As soon as I opened the door, Jack lashed an arm out, seized one of my wrists, and spun me around, bending and pulling my arm painfully up my back. As the door slammed shut, he pushed me hard against the wall, my cheek hitting the plaster, which took my breath away and made me see stars. Even if he hadn't taken the wind out of my sails, I couldn't have fought him. He was a six-foot-eight, 250-pound mass of muscle, determination, and need. He had told me he was tensed up and needed a good fuck on the phone. So, this didn't come as a surprise.

And I knew exactly why he was tensed up—and what my part in that was. I knew that better, I hoped, than he did.

He grabbed both of my wrists on one strong hand and forced my arms up the wall over my head. I felt my shorts jerked down my hips and they fell to the floor around my ankles.

"Spread 'em," Jack growled, and I barely had time to pull a foot out of the shorts and spread my stance, before he palmed my belly, pulled my hips out from the wall, and was poking between my butt cheeks with his thick and hard dick.

"Jack, please," I whimpered. "Just give me a . . . oh, shit, oh shit, oh FUCK!"

The massive bulb with the thick metal ring in it had found my entrance, and he was forcing himself inside.

My eyes watered and I grunted and groaned, as he got saddled. Honey was growling and barking and lunging at the chain, trying to pull it out of the wall, trying to get at the man attacking her master—just as the man had treated Honey's previous master. But I knew it was of no use. I did what I could to open to him, as he pushed further into me, and then I just worked on controlling my breathing and doing as little moaning and groaning as possible as he pumped me to his ejaculation.

He didn't care if I had one or not—but I did, a full minute before he was finished. God help me, I liked it rough. And I liked it rough from Jack.

He left me and went to the bathroom—he knew where it was—while I pulled my shorts back up and hobbled into the kitchenette, separated from the living-dining area by a breakfast bar. I put coffee on, knowing he'd want some—and needing some myself. Honey went back down on her haunches, not growling now, but very much on the alert, her muzzle turned toward the hallway Jack had disappeared down.

Her growl warned me of his reappearance before he materialized. He settled on a barstool, naked, his body body-builder muscled, his clothes still by the door where he'd dropped them. He wasn't full hard, but he wasn't flaccid either. I knew he wasn't finished with me. I just hoped it would only be another fuck, not what he could do—what he probably would do if he knew everything.

"I suppose you want a cup of coffee," I said as he perched on the barstool. His body was magnificent, even with the two puckered bullet wounds, one in the right torso under his bulging pecs and the other in his bicep on that side. I had often wondered who had been able to manage that. This was something he did to other people—except that when he did it they didn't get up and walk away from it afterward. He was dark skinned. Maybe some Brazilian in him, although I'd never asked. Black, curly hair—a patch of it fanned out over his pecs and then a line descending into his pubes as well. Big hands and feet, low-hanging balls, a cock that wasn't overly long, except in erection, but was challengingly thick. He was still half hard now. I knew he would fuck me again. And, if something worse was coming, it wouldn't come until after that.

"And an omelet. Four eggs. I didn't have breakfast."

Of course he hadn't had breakfast. It was 4:00 in the morning. And I knew—from experience—that he wasn't an early riser if he didn't have to be. We'd lived together for two years—him in bed with me, usually on top of me, pinning me breathless to the mattress as he took out all of his anger at the world with his cock thrusts inside me. Although that had ended more than a year ago. Everything had ended more than a year ago—except that it was now back to bite both of us in the ass.

"An omelet?" I asked. "I suppose you want something in it too." I meant it to be sarcastic. He'd treated me like his maid—his bitch—before too. He had told me I loved being treated that way. As long as he was fucking me totally, I hadn't disagreed with him.

"The works. You make 'em good."

Honey growled, on her haunches, but still straining at the chain, and we both looked at her.

"You could have done me in the bedroom" I said. "No reason to tease her like that."

"I like her to watch. I like to hear her in a frenzy when I'm spiking you. Makes it wilder, don't you think? And it's not her I'm thinking about. Her intensity and bald hatred makes the fuck sexier for me. For you too, I'll bet."

I didn't answer. This was so vintage Jack.

"Why did you come?" I asked as I shoveled the omelet onto his plate. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer to that, but I was aching to know. "Are you going to kill me? If so, could you leave the door unlocked and phone someone afterward to come get Honey? I know you can't unchain Honey, and I can't stand the thought of her being trapped here and no one knowing."

He took a big bite of the omelet, his eyes boring into mine. He took longer to respond than he needed to. It was so like him.

"The hearing is day after tomorrow. But you know that, don't you?" he said instead of answering me.

"Yes, I know that. That's why you're here . . . because you know I'll have to testify?"

"That and the tension of having it over my head. I had to fuck someone . . . to ease the tension."

"And Phil isn't convenient?" Phil was who Jack had left me for. I'm ashamed to say it wasn't me who broke it up. Jack got Phil, and I got Honey, Phil's police dog. Honey never could abide Jack. Jack treated Phil like shit just as much as he had me. And Phil had taken it just like I had.

"Phil is out of the picture."

"Ah." I was mortified that this pleased me. After everything. I had been more of a prisoner than anything else when I'd been with Jack. "So, you're worried about the hearing?" I asked.

"Shouldn't I be?" Again the piercing look. I knew this was a crucial point. "I shouldn't have told you I did for Harry. They've got nothing else that's conclusive."

Other than the sniper setup when Harry went down, I thought. The caliber of the bullet. The fact that a single bullet did that right between the eyes from where they'd found the sniper nest. There weren't too many shooters who could do that, and the signatures all pointed back to Jack. But, no, he shouldn't have told me that he took down another member of the hit squad, thinking that it had been Harry who had given Jack up to the Iranians for the Salam at-Tarki hit. At-Tarki had been number two in Oghab 2, the Iranian counterespionage agency in the nuclear facilities field when we were doing our best to sabotage their nuclear development. Jack had taken At-Tarki out in Paris. The Iranians had been told it was him and Jack had had to watch his back especially hard since then.

Jack and Harry had never gotten along, and Jack decided Harry gave him up to the Iranians. I knew he hadn't. But there was no way I was going to tell Jack that. And there was no way Jack should have told me that he'd taken revenge on Harry. This wasn't just any hearing, and people like Jack and me—and Harry—weren't just any citizens. If the hearing concluded Jack had taken out one of us, that would be the end of due process for Jack.

"You shouldn't have told me, Jack."

"That's not the point," he countered gruffly.

"You say that you and Phil have split?"

He sat there, staring at me for the longest minute. He hadn't finished his omelet, but he'd done a good job on it. At length, he stood up from the barstool and growled, "Come around here."

"Jack," I said. "Maybe we should go into . . ."

"I said come around here." I could barely hear him over Honey's barking and the rattle of the chain as she tried to get at Jack. I didn't want to vex her like this.

"Be good to me, Jack," I whimpered, as I came around the side the breakfast island.

"I'm always good for you. I know what you want."

He grabbed my wrists and pushed me to the floor, in front of him. His half-hard cock was jutting out at me, and I opened my mouth over it, the metal of his Prince Albert clicking against my teeth as I worked the cock with my mouth. When he'd had enough, he pushed me away from him, back onto my haunches. I stared up into his face, seeing the fury of his determination there.

Did he know, I wondered. Did he know the all of it? "Jack," I started to say, but then I gasped, as he backhanded me across the cheek and I fell toward where Honey was straining at the chain, in a frenzy now, I wasn't quite in reach of her.

Jack leaned down, grasped my ankles, and pulled my legs up to him, hooking my calves on his hips. I arched up on my shoulder blades and cried out, as he thrust his cock inside me, grasped my buttocks, and started to pull me on and off the cock with long, brutal pulls and thrusts. My barking matched Honey's as she strained to get at us. My arms were flung out, my fists grasping tufts of carpeting. I hooked my ankles at the small of his back and hung on for dear life as he plowed me hard and furiously.

I tried to rise up, grasping at his belly. But he didn't stop. He came down on the carpeting on his knees, pushed his thighs under my buttocks, and fucked on, hard and deep. I tried to raise my torso up to him again, but he backhanded me again and I just fell back, trying to relax to more easily take his thickness, whimpering and moaning and taking the hard, thick assault of his cock.

I knew he was going to kill me. I could tell he was from the look in his face. I was the only witness who could do him in at the hearing.

And the irony was that he had every reason to kill me, and he didn't know it. It hadn't been Harry who had fingered him to the Iranians. I had done that. Because he had left me. Because he had gone with Phil. Because he was such an asshole. Because Honey hated him. Because I hated myself for wanting him inside me so much. If he was gone, surely that ache would go with him.

When he was finished, he just stood over me and looked down at me for a long moment. He was standing between my legs. My legs were bent, feet flat on the carpet, but I couldn't close them. Jack had always left me that way, not being able to close my legs.

Then he backed away from me, scooped his clothes off the floor by the door and pulled them on. He turned to me before he left, and said, "There's room on Phil's side of the bed now. Think about the hearing."

"I don't understand why you don't just take me out?" I muttered in resignation to what would be the logical answer to all of this.

"You can't tell why? Because I want you in my bed. I love to fuck you . . . and because I love you. That's why. You mean you can't see that? It took me living with Phil to know I loved you, but you're smarter than me. I thought you could tell."

When he was gone, I rolled over to where Honey was—just a few feet away from where we had been fucking to the tune of her wild frenzy—to where Jack had been fucking me; it had been all I could do to hang on with him. Honey went down on her belly beside me, her whimperings matching mine. She licked my face and then put her muzzle down on my stomach as I stroked her head. I still couldn't close my legs.

The hearing was the day after the next. I knew I wouldn't say anything incriminating against Jack. And that was because the most damning secret of all was that I wanted him. I wanted to be in his bed. I wanted him to fuck me like he just had—again and again. I even melted to the sound of Honey's reaction in the background.