Read Shadow Ops: Danger's Desire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 1) Online
Authors: LS Silverii
LS Silverii is a highly decorated law enforcement officer from Cajun country with over 25 years of heart-racing experience.
Danger’s Desire is the first in a trilogy written for CJ Lyons’ Shadow Ops Kindle Worlds. The romantic suspense series takes you behind the badge and across country to experience the raw rush and romance of true alpha heroes.
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The Cajun Murder Mystery Series
Bayou Roux: The Complete First Season
Bayou Backslide: A Cajun Murder Mystery Series Special Edition
Cop Culture: Why Good Cops Go Bad
LINKS TO CJ LYONS’ SHADOW OPS SERIES
A Shadow Ops Novella
“You better make damn sure those cuffs are tight. Otherwise I’m gonna thrash your ass with ’em once I escape.” Krystal Laveau was helplessly strapped across the mattress. Worse than that, she sensed the helplessness of no possible escape. She twitched her shoulders in hopes of finding slack in confinement—nothing gave. Black hair whipped wildly over her cheeks as the camera clicked like an opening night red carpet.
“Empty threats and promises don’t alarm me.” His voice rumbled—low and husky—sending shivers down her spine.
He slid deeper into the chair, a comfortable pose, as if he could wait for as long as it took. Her eyes cut to the 9mm pistol he’d laid upon the glass-topped nightstand, ready and within easy reach.
“You better give it your best. One shot’s all you’ll get. I promise, you’re going to pay for this.” Her wrists ached, the cold, stainless steel handcuffs cutting into her flesh. She trembled. The white bed sheets tangled at her feet as she fought against her restraints.
He stood and paced across the plush carpet toward the open window. His shirtless body glimmered in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors designed to increase the feeling of space in the opulent suite.
The twenty-eighth floor penthouse opened up to the Gulf of Mexico. Oil rig lights blinked offshore, while moored yachts floated over three hundred feet below.
“Isn’t it poetic that the cuffs holding you down are your very own?”
“I’m warning you.” She whimpered, but he’d not reacted to this latest objection. His finger tapped the window’s reinforced glass as he studied his own image reflection. He looked over, watching her tattooed body twist and turn. He had her ass in a bind. Krystal “Voodoo” Laveau belonged to him, and his devious imagination.
“You know that video will just be used against you,” Voodoo pleaded hoping to stop the recording of her sexual torment. He strode to the camera, and adjusted the tripod to cover the offset angle of her form shackled across the mattress.
He smirked. “It’ll be used to entertain me, baby. It’ll also ensure your submission to whatever and whenever I desire. How do you say it—blackmail?”
He checked for the red blinking light once again, and eased from behind the camera, moving toward her.
Her muscles tensed as she braced for him. His thick leather belt crashed against the king-sized mattress. The pillow-top covering helped to muffle the sound, but Voodoo leapt the inch or two of wiggle room available as the surface vibrated.
“That was close.” Her voice was defeated and low—eyes tried locking onto his to plead for mercy. He avoided the fire green eyes, but instead glared at her thighs and the dark, slick folds open to him.
“Close? You ain’t seen close.” He stalked to the foot of the giant bed, his frame lean and muscular. Smacked the wide belt against his open palm. Her hips rocked side-to-side. The dangling jewel through her pierced clit swung in rhythm. He sandpapered his jaw and grinned at her ornamented pussy.
“No.” She yelped as he hoisted the black strap above his head. Panic on her face said she feared her inked flesh might be his next target.
“I’ll submit.” The words sickened her.
“Good girl,” he growled, his voice the only sound in an otherwise eerily quiet suite.
The metal studs and buckle were still chilled, and created a stream of
frissons
across her hypersensitive skin along the collar’s wake. He stalked the elevated bed and slid the leather strap between his fingers. He circled her breasts with the belt and lingered there. The buckles clinked against the rods double-pierced through her nipples.
Her spine arched at the threat of more leather against her skin, and the collaring against her will. He torqued his shoulders to face the camera. Lips sneered as if to boast about her surrender.
Dark grey pinstriped suit pants pulled tight across his thighs as he knelt close to her head. The plush comforter squished and then molded around his knees. She laid her cheek against the starched bedcover—her hair falling behind her right ear.
He reared over her as he snapped the black leather between powerful fists. The collar’s jolt caused his chest to flex. She eyed sheer power in the striations through his pectorals that revealed the fatless musculature of a body well trained. He grinned, seeing that his hard work intimidated her.
“Submit to me, baby. Now,” he commanded in a soft voice.
With no possibility of escape, she blinked once, and rolled her head and shoulders up off the bed to expose her smooth, thin neck. He clamped the buckle and rotated the strap around her throat until the hinge hung against the mattress.
“Good girl.”
“Thank you.” She smiled.