by Harley Slate
Mel led her through the small house to the living room. Floor-to-ceiling drapes opened to reveal a glass door leading to a back patio and a view of the mountains beyond. It was too hot now, but the patio would be a pleasant place to sit in the cool of the evening.
She pushed the button again, and the drapes closed. The house was darker, although not dark.
Lana was shaking. How could she be shaking? A part of her must have believed she'd never touch Mel again. Now they were dancing in close to each other, their fingers flying. A button popped here, and a zipper began to glide down there. They'd had so little time together, and yet their bodies already knew how to do this dance. Smoothly, easily, they glided each other out of their clothes.
When Mel's jeans flew away from the tips of her toes, Lana noticed the fresh celery-green polish. A shade she wouldn't have noticed on a shelf in the drugstore, and yet it looked like the perfect choice for Mel's slender white feet.
Everything about her is so perfect. Even the smallest detail.
Lana almost didn't know where she wanted to nibble first. The slow start from the ground up had its attractions. Maybe she'd start with the nudge of a tongue-tip between those polished toes. Maybe she'd plant a long, sucking kiss around the velvet skin of a slender ankle. Then she'd begin sweeping her extended tongue up and up the sweet smooth curve of a calf...
Mel, laughing, must have been entertaining a similar fantasy. She danced a naked Lana backward until her bare legs met something smooth― the Italian leather of a couch made by the same people who designed the interiors of expensive sports cars. Instead of sitting, Lana sprawled on her back, an open sprawl that left her with one careless leg thrown over the back of the couch. Planting the other foot firmly on the floor, she presented herself as wide open, wet and hot and vulnerable.
Her whole body was an invitation for Mel to come closer.
Of course, Mel teased first. She could never resist the opportunity to tease. Flipping the long red hair over her face, she whipped it briskly against the tender interior of Lana's open thighs.
“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” Lana needed so much more than the tease. “That tickles.”
Their whole relationship so far had been a tease. They'd played a crazy game of adult peekaboo, showing each other so little of what was real about themselves.
That would change. Starting now.
From here on out, everything they did was real and true.
With a sigh of anticipation, Lana walked a fingertip up the creamy satin of Mel's smooth thighs. Waves of heat pulsed out from Mel's center, inviting Lana to stroke harder, deeper. As Mel settled her slender body more firmly on top of Lana, their mouths sought each other for long kisses, while their restless hands probed for each other's hidden sweet spots.
Holding two and then three fingers close together, Lana flirty-fucked in and out of Mel's warm depths. Her thumb pressed ever so strategically just above Mel's swollen clit. Getting the pressure just right was a delicious challenge, and yet it was no serious distraction from the way Mel got busy finger-fucking Lana in return.
They fell easily into a shared rhythm, in and out, deeper and more shallow and then deeper again.
At times, it was almost too intense. Almost painful. The kind of pain people crave at midnight to let them know they're truly alive.
Both of them were making little sounds that weren't real words. And yet those sounds said so much more than words.
We're getting there. We're climbing.
We're doing this.
Together.
It didn't seem to Lana as if either of them was consciously timing anything. They were moving easily, naturally, in a dreamlike state that could never be mistaken for something as trivial as an actual dream. Mel's female musk was real, the scent of it a tickle in Lana's nose. The slippery sweat on their skin sometimes made their bodies squeak where they rubbed together. As for the pressure building to volcanic force inside of them...
Her eyes were open, but she didn't see. The bright room was a blank, everything erased and black except for the glitter of green in Mel's equally wide open eyes.
The force of their doubled climax was something Lana would always remember as a series of sensations. The vibratory tug of Mel's core seizing hard to pull the last drop of pleasure from Lana's fingers. The harsh and yet somehow delicious vibrations thundering through her own core and not just through her core, but through her thighs, her belly, her breasts. She could feel the track of the waves moving outward.
Their bodies must be flushed with red and heat. Sticky with sweat and cream. Their hair must be in a terrible tangle. They were panting into each other, the ragged sound of two women fighting to breathe through a shared orgasm that refused to give them time to ever catch their breath.
The afterglow was fire in the blood. A stimulant. Their thighs were still ringing as they tumbled off the couch and down to the floor. Then, laughing, they helped each other to their feet.
“There's a bed in here somewhere, I promise.” Mel's rich laugh was even throatier than usual.
“Maybe there.” Lana pointed down the hall, and then they were on their way, both of them laughing as if she'd said something witty.
Everything seemed witty when they were intoxicated by each other.
The king-sized bed took up most of the room. It was a cool, crisp space, done in shades of green and blue that seemed alien to Vegas. A lazy wooden ceiling fan turned overhead, the better to make the most of the central air-conditioning. Maybe it should have felt a little chilly on a damp, naked body, but Lana felt hotter than ever as she studied Mel's slim figure.
“I need you in my mouth,” she said. “I need to taste you.”
Bracing herself on a firm pillow, she tugged at Mel's hips to arrange them at the perfect level to connect with her enthusiastic tongue. Ah. That taste. That salt and sweet, that hint of rich female vanilla...
Mel squirmed around to the sixty-nine position. As her round ass lifted and her tight folds re-arranged themselves over Lana's tongue, Mel used her own tongue to spread the entrance into Lana's enthusiastic depths. They were both very wet. The long build-up and their first explosive shared climax guaranteed that.
How Lana loved this rich liquor. The taste, the fragrance, the responsiveness of the tender flesh.
I could have lost this. We could have lost this. Forever.
Lana shuddered and worked her tongue deeper. It wasn't the time to think about what they could have lost.
Chapter Nineteen
The afternoon and then the evening passed in a blur of pleasure. Phones lit up and sometimes vibrated, but they ignored them. They'd given their statements and played their parts in the breaking of Salvatore Durrell. They deserved this holiday. Mel's immediate boss, the duly assigned Special Agent in Charge, had ordered her to take some time off. As the SAC pointed out, Mel was no longer out there on her own. A large number of her fellow agents were already working overtime on the leads Durrell provided.
Emerging from undercover work could be a delicate thing. It was important to take the opportunity to clear one's head. Not that there was anything especially delicate about the athletic exercises Lana and Mel performed in those messy sheets.
Sleep should have been utterly dreamless. And, at first, it was.
Then Lana woke with a sudden shock. Sitting up hard in the darkness, she felt in a panic around her. The bed beside her was all too empty.
The closet door, closed earlier, was left open to show a collection of silk kimonos. Lana padded naked from the bed to select one the color of mountain sky at midnight. Black, yes, but with a subtle hint of blue underneath.
“Mel?” she called.
“Out here.”
Lana followed the throaty voice to the kitchen, where Mel was removing two mugs of Constant Comment tea from the microwave. She already knew Lana well enough to guess she'd wake and come looking for her.
Mel's kimono was black with a red dragon on the back. Smaller red dragons
cavorted on each pocket. Her red hair was tousled, a little wild. One of the pockets sagged like it held something heavy. A messy look, the look of a woman who had just stumbled out of a busy bed.
And yet she'd never looked more beautiful to Lana, who had to swallow hard before she remembered how to speak.
“Bad dreams?”
“The same as yours.” Mel put the mugs on a tray that held a small bottle of honey and some sliced lemon. Carried it to a breakfast nook, where both of them sat down. “Seeing me in those cuffs bothered you.”
“It did.” Lana sipped carefully. The tea was hot, and she was pretty sure it contained caffeine. “I thought I'd lost you. Either to that psychopath or to the system.”
“You really didn't know I was playing a part?”
Lana shook her head. “My body must have known. My body never doubted you. But my head? No. I believed what I saw, and what I saw was a bad guy working for bad people.”
“Of course, that was the job, that's what you were supposed to see.”
There were undertones here. Lana took another sip of the hot tea. She needed to understand. “You're good at this. I wouldn't ask you to stop doing what you're good at.”
“Well, I won't be doing more undercover for a while. They don't like to keep one agent in the field too long. The better you are at playing the part, the more likely it is the part will start playing you.”
And Mel was very, very good. Lana nodded, still not sure what to say.
“I don't want to play a part with you ever again, Lana.” Mel pushed away her empty mug without looking down. Her green eyes were determined to hold Lana's gaze. “Not that kind of part, where one of us doesn't know it's a game. I wonder if you're hearing what I'm saying.”
“I am. I think I am. And I agree. This won't work, nothing about us is going to work, if we can't be real with each other.”
“So. To be real.” She took a deep breath. “What if I said I had an idea for a game? A way to wash away the taste of seeing me in those cuffs?”
Ah. At last Lana understood. Not everyone reacted well to such a confession. Yet how could you really know a woman if you rejected her secret fantasies? “You're into that? Bondage?”
“A little. Not, like, hard-core whips and chains. More of a fantasy element. The drama of the situation, maybe. The not knowing what's going to happen next.”
“So the woman who went to London...” Lana left the sentence unfinished.
“Yeah, she was freaked out. Thought maybe I was a little disturbed. She didn't see how I could separate the reality of the job, of cuffing people for safety, from the games I played on my own time.” And now Mel clunked something hard, something metal out of the dragon pocket and onto the table. A set of stainless steel police safety cuffs. Maybe even FBI official issue. “It's a tool, that's all it is, right? A tool that can be used for a lot of different reasons.”
Lana chuckled. The lack of shock she felt told her she must have already suspected what was dragging down Mel's pocket. “Sure. But maybe I'm the one in charge now. Maybe I'm the one who chooses the tools.”
In a single easy motion, she yanked off the midnight blue belt that secured her kimono. The rich fabric fell open, flashing the naked length of Lana from top to bottom, but Lana moved without shame or hesitation to grasp Mel's two hands.
They didn't need steel. They had silk. And silk, ounce for ounce and thread for thread, was just as strong as steel.
Sometimes even stronger.
“You're mine now. My captive.”
Mel's wriggle of a struggle somehow put her more firmly in Lana's grasp. Binding her two slender wrists together behind her back was the work of a moment. Snarling, trying not to giggle, Lana yanked off Mel's belt at the same time she tumbled the both of them down to the floor. They fell in slow motion, all pleasure and no pain, a silken surrender. Somehow Mel found herself on her belly, her ankles tied together with the second belt. Her kimono couldn't come off, but Lana tugged the satin lapels backward, the better to tangle up those captive arms and legs. In moments, Mel was on her side, the front of her body exposed, her arms and legs pulled out of the way, her nipples twin hard berries, her creamy globes flushed with heat.
“You'll never get away with this,” Mel said.
“I already have.” Lana squatted and lifted from her legs. Slender as she was, Mel was still a significant weight to carry for any distance. Lana didn't try for the king-sized bed. The couch was closer.
Mel bounced and squealed where she was dropped.
“I can do whatever I want.” Lana, kneeling beside the couch on the expensive carpet, shrugged out of her kimono. “You can't touch me, but I can touch you everywhere.”
Mel wriggled some more. The soft petals of her sweet mound unfolded like a rose in bloom. Lana touched those petals with a fingertip.
“Oh, yes. Don't worry. I'll get there. But first...” Lana directed a wet, hot kiss to Mel's gasping mouth. Their tongues fenced and parried, all in play. Lana's hands swept up and down. This warm, flexible, willing body was her playground. An amazing gift.
“You fucking tease.” Mel's throaty voice was a sexual growl.
“Oh, I'll tease you. I'll tease you everywhere.” And so she did, with tongue and finger. With a balled-up fist that rubbed playfully against a nipple before it ever found a clit. With a knee that nudged instead of pressed. With kisses that inch-wormed down in such slow motion you wouldn't know Lana was making any downward progress at all.
Until she had.
Until her flick of a tongue was as deep as it could get.
Until her thumb was a pressure point coming from just above Mel's bud, and her tongue was a pressure point coming from deep within Mel's core.
Yes, Mel in this sort of captivity was a pleasure. This was the restrained yet somehow completely free Mel that Lana wanted to focus on for the foreseeable future.
Hell, maybe even focus on for...
Forever?
Was that a word she was ready for?
Not now. Later, but not now.
Lana's tongue relished the fierce pulse-pull of Mel's gifted interior. Her climax was so fierce. So alive.
And then it was time to tug the knots open. To fling away every shackle, even the ones made of silk.
Mel's eyes were glazed with lust as she shook out her hands, then used them to grasp hard on the balls of Lana's shoulders. They leaned into each other, foreheads touching, eyes gazing into souls. “You liked that. You really did.” There was wonder in those green eyes. “You weren't just serving my fantasy, you liked it.”
“Fuck yes, I liked it. You can taste how much I did.” Lana pressed her lips to Mel's lips, and Mel's tongue fluttered at the seam to part them. Her own cream lingered there, that sweet salt and oyster.
Complete acceptance. Bodies in harmony. Souls in harmony too.
Mel's question was answered. The two of them were a match. Their tongues twined around each other, and so did their arms. They kissed their way back to bed, knowing they would sleep for real this time.
As for the rest of Lana's questions, well...
They could wait for morning.
Chapter Twenty
And morning always comes. Even sweet mornings like this one, when they had no responsibilities ahead of them. When they'd been all but ordered by Mel's boss to spend the day at home in bed.
“So tell me something. What were you thinking?” Lana finally asked.
“Mmm.” Sleepy Mel cuddled close against Lana, a long leg curled easily on top of hers. “What was I thinking when?”
“When you were on a hookup app looking for action when you were supposed to be undercover.”
“Yeah. I've had to answer some questions.” She snuggled even closer. “I should probably be in a shit-ton of trouble for that, but we're rolling up a scheme involving millions of dollars, so I figure they're going to let the small stuff slide.”
Lana turned within the embrace of Mel's arms and legs. Nibbled at the side of her mouth.
This wasn't small stuff. It felt like the biggest thing there was.
They kissed, they drowsed. It seemed like a long time later before Mel started talking again. A sweet voice in a dream.
“I had to be under a long time. Living the life, setting the stage. Even before they put me into play, you have to understand this scheme had been going on for years. The manufacturer came into the Nevada field office with a complaint their machines were hitting above average, not a lot, but enough to pick up on in the math. Their audit pointed to a certain programmer, but they couldn't prove it wasn't just bad luck. Of course, they'd already yanked the chips some places, that was the first thing they tried to stop the bleeding, but they'd only made a bad situation worse.” Mel paused to see if Lana could work it out.
“I can imagine what happens next. The programmer you suspected got dead, but the jackpots kept hitting. There was more than one person involved. There was a team. And they had no intention of being stopped.”
“Exactly. The first suspicious death was an overdose. Could have passed as a suicide. Probably would have, if the timing wasn't so convenient. As it was, the medical examiner put in some extra time on the body. Found the injection site on the back of the neck. This was no suicide, this was somebody wrapping up loose ends.”
The first suspicious death. How many others? “And now you had murder in addition to grand larceny, money-laundering, conspiracy...”
Mel nodded into Lana's chest. “The case was bigger than one machine manufacturer now. Of course, the manufacturer wanted to go ahead and tear out the rest of the suspicious chips, but they were our best lead to the perpetrators. And who was to say the unknown team didn't have a way to reprogram other chips? We weren't going to get anywhere playing whack-a-mole.”
They rocked into each other for a while. Mel's inner thighs were velvet where they squeezed Lana's flesh.