Taunted: The Dark Necessities—Dalton's Tale #2

  Taunted

  The Dark Necessities—Dalton’s Tale

  Book Two

  Copyright © 2020 by Felicity Brandon

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: felicitybrandonauthor@gmail.com

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. The author does not condone, nor endorse any of the acts in this book.

  First edition January 2020

  Cover design by Eris Adderly

  Download your FREE Felicity book here.

  https://felicitybrandonwrites.com/

  “A graceful taunt is worth a thousand insults.” Louis Nizer

  Chapter One

  Zander Hyland

  The first Zander knew about the firestorm going down across town was the call from Craig. Zander had intended to ignore it initially, the stirring ministrations of the blonde on her knees in front of him were too good to be distracted from, yet Craig had persisted. The ongoing vibration of his phone whirring in his top pocket continued until he’d been forced to acknowledge it. When he reached for the device, the blonde had pulled away. For some reason, she seemed to think that if Zander’s attention was elsewhere, then hers could be as well. He snorted outright at the thought. That was not how it worked. If she was topless and on her knees at Hyland’s feet, then she was going to bloody well finish the job.

  “Why have you stopped?” Zander’s voice was hard.

  He took his cock in his hand and fisted it just beyond her lips, unimpressed by the expression on her heavily made-up face.

  “Er.” She licked the gloss at her lips while her gaze flitted from Zander’s erection to his face. “I thought you had a call?”

  “I do.” Zander threw his phone onto his thigh as he leaned closer and grabbed a fistful of her bleached hair. “But what’s that to you?”

  Her breaths came out in fast pants while she adjusted to the discomfort. “I just thought you wanted me to stop, that’s all, I—”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t, darling,” Zander interrupted her. “Your job is to satisfy me, so do yourself a favor and get on with it.”

  She nodded as best she could with his fist still lodged at her scalp. “Yes, Mr. Hyland.”

  That was more like it. Zander had no clue what the woman’s name was and frankly, he had no interest in finding out. She was here for one thing only, and once he’d taken what he wanted, he planned on never laying eyes on her again. Women—like everything in Zander’s life—were a disposable pleasure. One that he could buy anytime he wanted.

  Zander watched while her lips wrapped around his crown again, and using a fistful of her hair, he eased his cock down into her throat. He squeezed his eyes closed at the heady sensation. That was what he needed. A little something to take the edge off. It had already been one hell of a day and he had the sense whatever Craig’s news was, it wasn’t going to do much to ease his mind.

  Content that the blonde was finally going to play ball, Zander released her hair and reached for his phone again. Swiping into the screen, he hit the button to receive Craig’s call and lifted the handset to his left ear.

  “Zander?” Craig’s throaty tone answered at once.

  “I’m here.” Zander’s gaze lowered back to his cock. He watched for a moment, enjoying the view as the blonde devoured his erection again. Her attention darted north to meet his and he immediately looked away. “What’s up?”

  “It’s Morley.”

  A knot of anxiety twisted in Zander’s chest. Jacob Morley had been on his payroll longer than almost anyone else. He was, in effect, Zander’s right-hand man.

  “What about him?”

  Craig sighed. It was obvious he didn’t want to be the one who delivered the news. “Morrison has him.”

  Zander’s breath caught and he lurched forward in his expensive leather seat, nearly choking the blonde in the process. “What?”

  The blonde fell back to her heels, gasping as she searched his face for an explanation, and at the same time, Craig continued in Zander’s ear.

  “It’s The Syndicate, boss. There was some type of altercation at Delilah’s apartment and Morley was captured.”

  Zander lifted his chin at the news. What the fuck had Jacob been thinking getting himself seized by The Syndicate—and over some dumb woman? Delilah Bellamy had been nothing but bloody trouble from the first time Zander had ever laid eyes on her, yet there had always been something about the redhead that Jacob had liked. He’d gone against Zander’s advice by supporting the bitch and putting her to work for them. Zander had never trusted her, and now it seemed, she had just landed them both in a deep pile of shit. Zander’s free hand curled into a fist at the thought. Jacob knew better than that, didn’t he? He was smarter than that?

  Taking a deep breath, Zander eased back into his seat. There was no need to be uptight about it. Whatever trouble Jacob was in, Zander could smooth it over. All it would take was leveraging pressure at the right places, and if there was one thing he was good at, it was applying pressure. Clicking his fingers, he drew the attention of the blonde and directed her back to his waiting cock.

  “Strip completely,” he mouthed to her, his lips curling as she nodded and proceeded to unwrap the small dress from her smoking hot body.

  “Okay.” Zander’s focus was back on the phone conversation again. “What do we know?”

  “Not much,” Craig admitted. “Morley was taken some time yesterday afternoon. We think he’s been taken to the tower.”

  “You think?” Zander didn’t even try to suppress the disdain in his voice. “Do I pay you to think?”

  “We assume, boss,” Craig conceded. “We don’t know for sure.”

  “Like this, Mr. Hyland?” The breathy tone of the blonde broke Zander’s train of thought, his gaze rising to find her now completely naked save for the stockings and garter belt he’d insisted she wore.

  Zander nodded as he devoured the look of her. She might not be the brightest button in the world, but that was just fine for Zander. He wasn’t interested in striking up an academic debate with the woman. He just needed her to look good and ride his cock on command.

  “Yes.” He covered the mouthpiece of the device at his ear. “Now, get back down here and make me come.”

  She bit her lip, but was already crawling back in his direction as Zander placed the phone back to his ear properly.

  “We need to find out for sure,” he advised Craig in as even a tone as he could muster now that the blonde was working his hardness in and out of her hot mouth once more. “Check out the CCTV in the area and use the assets we have. Did he really make it to the tower, and if so, when?”

  “Okay, Zander. I’ve got it.”

  Zander closed his eyes, imagining what Jacob might be going through right at that moment. For sure, it wouldn’t be anything good. His eyelids opened to watch the mesmerizing sight of the act the unknown blonde was performing.

  Certainly nothing as good as the experience Zander was relishing.

  If he’d learned anything about Saul Morrison over the years, it’s that he wouldn’t play fairly, and if he’d really gotten his hands on Jacob, he’d use him for everything he could get out of him. Zander had no serious concerns about information leaking from Jacob under duress. The guy was tough—one of the hardest nuts Zander had ever met—but still, Jacob was only a human being, and with enough pressure, he could crack.

  “Find out for sure and let me know,” Zander ordered.

  “Do you think Morley will talk?” Craig vocalized the question nagging at the corners of Zander’s mind.

  “No chance,” Zander replied, lowering his right hand into the soft tresses of the blonde.

  Despite the curt way he’d treated her, she was truly quite pretty and she was exceptionally skilled with her mouth. Perhaps he’d let her stay the night, after all?

  “How can you be so sure, boss?”

  Zander’s hand slid into her hair, guiding her hot mouth up and down his swollen shaft. It wasn’t going to be long until he exploded down her throat.

  “Trust me,” he answered Craig. “Jacob is no squealer. He’ll do himself before he talks.”

  And just in case there was any part of Zander’s confidence that was ill-judged, he knew Jacob understood something else, as well. If Jacob didn’t terminate himself, then Zander absolutely would do it. Ratting on the Hyland organization was tantamount to a death sentence.

  Chapter Two

  Delilah

  Two weeks later

  A week had passed since Delilah had woken in Dalton’s penthouse apartment, in the heart of The Syndicate. A week of gaining her strength. A week of endless passion with a man who seemed able to anticipate her every thought and emotion. And a week of slowly permitting that same man, the one who’d rescued her, to see the woman he’d saved. And not just the superficial elements either—Dalton knew those parts of her already—he recognized Delilah’s fiery spirit and her smart mouth, but the secret facets of Delilah. The parts she’d never shown anyone before. The parts that were private.

  “Good morning
, gorgeous.” Dalton rolled toward her, his blue eyes sparkling and Delilah had no choice but to return his smile.

  Dalton was such a gentleman. So unlike the men Delilah had been used to having in her life. So different to Jacob. There really was no choice but to acquiesce, although it often still pained her to be so damn compliant.

  “Good morning, sir.” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, conscious of how hot Dalton’s self-imposed title was making her. Just like always.

  “How did you sleep?”

  Delilah sighed. “Well, thank you.”

  She had slept like a baby every night since she’d arrived here. Being with Dalton meant she was finally safe from the clutches of Jacob, though just the thought of the man who’d pounded the seven colors of hell out of her sent anxiety coursing around her muscles.

  “Stop it.” Dalton’s voice was soft, but firm.

  Delilah turned her head on the pillow. “Stop what?”

  “Dwelling on that arsehole, Morley.”

  Her brow furrowed. For days now, Dalton seemed to interpret her every conscious thought. “How did you know I was thinking about Jacob?”

  She propped herself up against her elbows, allowing the covers to fall free from her breasts.

  The hunger in Dalton’s eyes was obvious. “I’ve started to get to know you a little bit, Delle.”

  Dalton shifted across the covers to where she was lying. “And I can tell when you’re thinking about that bastard.”

  Delilah glanced at him. “I just wish you’d tell me what’s happened to him, Dalton, that’s all.”

  She nibbled at her lip while she considered their numerous conversations on the subject. The only thing that Dalton would divulge was that Jacob was alive, but no longer a threat to her, and Delilah knew enough of organizations like The Syndicate to work out the rest for herself. No doubt Dalton’s men had taken custody of Jacob and right now, were presumably brutalizing him for information. Her belly twisted at the idea. Delilah had every reason to seek revenge on Jacob. That prick had been tormenting her for longer than she cared to remember, forcing her to work for him and intimidating her with his lewd suggestions. She should be thanking Dalton for giving Jacob a taste of his own medicine—she should be overwhelmed with joy at the prospect. So, why was she so troubled by the notion of his misery?

  “He’s alive, Delle,” Dalton assured her. “He’s okay. He’s just helping us with our inquiries.”

  Dalton’s lips curled at the final assertion.

  “Helping?” she repeated. “That doesn’t sound like Jacob.”

  Dalton’s hand skimmed over her midriff. “Why do you care? That piece of shit nearly knocked you unconscious with his brutality, and even now, you’re concerned for him?”

  His tone was soft, but the sense of betrayal was there for Delilah to hear. “I know,” she gasped. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t care, it’s just…”

  Delilah swallowed while she tried to find the right words. “It’s complicated.”

  “You don’t have feelings for him, do you?” Dalton’s voice dripped disdain at the concept.

  “Christ, no!” she snapped, compelling her body into an upright position. “It’s not that. It’s nothing like that.”

  Dalton tilted his head to regard her. “Then what?”

  Delilah sighed. She didn’t even know how to explain it herself. How did you explain a relationship as messed up as hers and Jacob’s had become over the years? “It’s complicated, Dalton. The guy is a waste of space, but he’s the only man I’ve ever had in my life consistently. I never knew my father, and after my mother died, well… Jacob was it.”

  His brow knitted. “Shit, Delle, I’m sorry.”

  Dalton wrapped his arms around her, pulling her naked body back down between the covers with him. “If Jacob Moley is the most constant figure you’ve had in your life, then God help you.”

  Delilah inhaled the earthy scent of the cologne against his skin. As far as she could tell, God had never helped her. Nobody had—until Dalton Reilly.

  “Right.” Delilah’s voice was barely a whisper. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So, you have him somewhere?” Delilah’s heart pounded at the thought of Jacob. She didn’t know which emotion for the man was stronger: the loathing that coursed through her, or the fear.

  “The Syndicate has him, yes.” Dalton’s voice was guarded, like he sensed where this conversation was going.

  Perhaps he could. The man seemed able to pre-empt just about every other thought Delilah had.

  She lifted her chin. “Here?” she asked. “In this building.”

  Dalton’s blue gaze pierced her. “You don’t need to think about him, Delle. He can’t hurt you.”

  Delilah sighed. “I know,” she assured him “I know that. It’s just… I think I might want to see him.”

  Dalton’s arms tensed around her. “What? Are you serious?”

  She pressed her lips into the soft hair at his chest. “Yes, sir. I am.”

  “Why, Delilah?” Dalton shifted so he could look her in the eyes. “What could you possibly have to say to the man after everything?”

  Her eyes fluttered closed. Dalton raised a good point. Delilah was so consumed with the need for revenge that she hadn’t properly considered what she would actually say to Jacob. All she knew was that she wanted to see him beaten and downtrodden. She wanted to see him in pain—the same pain he had inflicted upon her—and not just the last time either. But for every time. Every time he’d slapped her, pinned her against the wall and intimidated her over the years. For the small girl who’d never been able to properly mourn the loss of her mother, and for the young woman he’d coerced and humiliated. Delilah wanted him to pay.

  And she wasn’t sorry for the need, either.

  “I just need to see him for myself.” Delilah’s voice dripped with the contempt she felt for Jacob. “And I want him to see me, Dalton. I want him to know that he didn’t win. That he doesn’t have power over me anymore.”

  Like he always has… Delilah didn’t add the final line, but it was right there, on the tip of her tongue.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s messed up.”

  “It’s okay,” Dalton breathed, pulling Delilah back into a hard embrace. “I get it, Delle.”

  There was silence for a moment while they both, apparently, dwelled on that thought.

  “So…” She pulled in a shaky breath. “Can I see him?”

  Dalton glanced down at her, his expression softer than before. “Maybe,” he answered. “Let me speak to Saul.”

  Delilah blinked at him. “Saul?”

  Her heart rate increased at the sound of Morrison’s name. Of course, Delilah knew who Saul Morrison was, but she couldn’t recall Dalton ever mentioning him to her before.

  “Hmm.” His tone was skeptical. “Have I not talked about Saul before?”

  “I don’t remember the name.”

  Dalton’s hand slipped to her arse and he cupped her left cheek in an almost tender way. “Well, now you have.”

  Delilah bit her lip. “Are you angry with me, sir?”

  Dalton squeezed her behind hard, the deed sending a gasp from Delilah’s lips. “Of course, not,” he reassured her. “I’m not angry.”

  “So, what then?” Delilah was no psychologist, but it was clear Dalton’s mood had shifted somehow.

  He sighed. “You just reminded me that we still need to talk, Delilah.”

  Her brow furrowed. Talk? Wasn’t that what they were doing now?

  “I mean really talk,” Dalton clarified. “About Morley. About Hyland, and about what your connection to them is.”

  Panic bloomed in her chest. Of course. Delilah had known this conversation was coming, but she’d deferred it for days, distracting them both with the endless hours of kinky activity Dalton had introduced her to—and she’d absolutely adored. But for all their mutual gratification, it meant nothing. Delilah knew that. All she had done was put off the inevitable trauma of this moment.

  “Oh.” It was all she could think to say.

  Dalton pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You did say you’d be ready to talk about it soon, Delle.”

  She could hear the uncertainty in his voice. The nervous energy. The need not to tip the balance and ruin whatever this good thing was they’d managed to carve from the wreckage of her pounding at Jacob’s hands.