Velvet Shadows

by Aubrey Rose

  Moonlight bathed the beach in silver, glistening on the gently rolling waves. The water’s subtle churning created a soothing soundtrack for the romantic scene. Velvet wiggled her bare toes into the sand and reached for Trevor’s hand.

  “What have you learned?”

  “That you come fast and hard with my mouth on your --”

  “About the case!” She slapped at him and giggled as he reached for the flowing skirt of her sundress.

  “Anthony Depalma died nine years ago.”

  “What?” All playfulness fled. She looked up at him in the moonlight, waiting for more information.

  “The man you know as Anthony Depalma didn’t exist until six years ago. He’s a creation, a façade.”

  “A mask for Sarah Vermaneli to hide behind.”

  “More than likely. Sarah has to remain behind the scenes or she risks discovery, so Anthony Depalma became her Remington Steele.”

  “Like the TV show.”

  He nodded. “And I’ll bet proof of their identities is on this little beauty right here. There could be no better insurance policy than that.” Trevor pulled the thumb drive out of his pocket.

  “We need to get that to the police.”

  “I’m dying to know exactly what’s on it, but you’re right. We’ve done enough. First thing in the morning, I’ll give it all to Lieutenant Rojo.” He put the device back in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Right now I’m more interested in the proper use of this.”

  Velvet laughed as he held up a condom. He spread the blanket in the sand and pulled his shirt off over his head. Moonlight danced over his sculpted torso and Velvet’s toes curled deeper into the sand.

  God, he was gorgeous, so very ‑‑ delectable.

  Inching down his zipper, he revealed his flat abdomen inch by tantalizing inch. “Are you going to undress, or am I going to toss your skirt up and ravish you?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  He shucked his jeans and stalked toward her all gloriously naked predatory male. Heat infused her body in one sustained wave. His muscles rippled, his eyes gleamed, and his cock jutted, part threat and part promise.

  “Ravished it is!”

  His hands tangled in her hair and his mouth claimed hers, lips sliding, tongue teasing. She parted for him, eager for the intimate penetration of his tongue. He denied her, tracing her lips, while never delving between.

  He gathered her dress in both hands and pulled it off over her head. “Oh my. What have we here?” His heated gaze moved over her naked body. “No panties? No bra? How very wicked.”

  “You make me think wicked thoughts and want wicked things.”

  With his hands clasped behind his back, he circled her. “How wicked?”

  “Touch me and see.”

  “Where? How? With what?”

  Velvet licked her lips. He wanted her to take the initiative, to express her desire. “Kiss me. With your lips and your tongue. Especially your tongue. I want to taste you and know you’re tasting me.”

  His lips pressed against hers, his tongue sinking into her mouth. Her nipples tightened, anticipating the firm press of his chest, but he only touched her with his mouth. Giving her exactly what she asked for and nothing more.

  “Put your hands on my breasts. Both of them. Stroke my nipples.” She whispered the directives into his mouth and sighed when he obeyed. Arching into his warm palms, she looped his neck with her arms, leaving room between their bodies for his hands.

  Cupping and stroking, he explored her breasts, rubbing her nipples, rolling them between his finger and thumb and squeezing gently. Tingles spiked through her torso. Her breasts swelled against his hands.

  “I want to feel your cock slide against me. Not in me, just against me.”

  He bent his knees and shifted his stance, easing his erection between her thighs. Parting her folds, he slid against her opening without entering her core. His shaft rubbed her clit and a delicious ache erupted in her pussy.

  “Oh God, yes!”

  “Is that enough? Is that all you need? All you want?”

  “No. Put your mouth on my nipples.”

  Sinking to his knees on the blanket, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him. She stumbled over the fringe. His hands moved to her hips, steadying her. He pressed his mouth to her nipple, nothing more. A light peck against the tight peak, not the carnal kiss she desired.

  “Part your lips and lick me.”

  He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made her skin tingle. “I’d rather part your lips and lick you.”

  “Not yet. My nipples first.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He suckled hard, dragging a ragged gasp from her. His hands moved up and down her spine while his mouth devoured her.

  She raked her fingers through his hair, pressing her mound against his chest.

  His arms banded her body and he lowered her to the blanket on her back. “Open your legs.”

  She smiled. He could never remain passive for long. If his aggressiveness didn’t thrill her to the very marrow of her bones, her stubborn nature might have objected. But his commanding tone and strong arms sent desire lancing through her body.

  Inching her legs apart, she waited for his reaction, her eyes narrowed and challenging. He growled and caught the bend of her knees, pushing her legs wide, keeping her knees bent.

  “Put your hands above your head and don’t touch me.”

  “But I want to touch you.” She pouted prettily.

  “You can touch me, or you can have my mouth on you. It’s one or the other, you can’t have both.”

  She exhaled in an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. For now.”

  “You better, or I’ll stop.”

  His eyes stared into hers while he opened the condom and rolled it into place. She watched him closely, envying his fingers. He leaned over her and all she could see was the top of his dark head.

  His warm breath stirred her damp curls. One flick of her clit and she’d go off like a rocket. He made her wait, prolonged the anticipation.

  “I love your scent. Hot, wet cunt and baby powder. Very intriguing combination.”

  Her chuckle ended in a moan as his tongue stroked from back to front, boldly parting her slick folds. He caressed her gently, building her pleasure gradually. Giving just enough attention to her swollen clit, he kept her simmering, refusing to let her come.

  “Please, Trevor. You’re killing me.”

  “Please what?”

  “Let me come.”

  He circled her twice, then objected, “I’m not stopping you.”

  She groaned, frustrated and desperate. “Lick my clit and only my clit until I tell you to stop!”

  He held back her folds with his thumbs, exposing her vulnerable clit. Then he lashed the sensitive nub with his tongue, lightly, firmly, fast, and then slowly. Velvet rode the waves of pleasure. Spasm after spasm shook her, making her cunt clench and her legs quake. Higher, tighter, until she screamed into the starry night, her body arched and trembling.

  “Stop. Okay, stop!” She panted and writhed, each flick sending a fresh spike of sensation spiraling through her core.

  Trevor swirled his tongue around her pulsing clit. Her cries of pleasure made him desperate to conquer, to claim. He couldn’t get enough of her taste and the slick heat of her feminine flesh. Intoxicated, ravenous he thrust into her pussy, his mouth sealed over her entire mound. She arched, her thighs shaking.

  In one fluid motion, he surged up along her body and impaled her with his cock. Her cunt fluttered, embracing him. He lifted her legs to his shoulders, rising to his knees. Deep, she took him deeper with each forceful lunge. Her tight inner muscles gripped him, caressed him. Trevor groaned.

  She felt so good, so perfect, so right. He wanted to move in her forever, but his balls tightened and his cock pounded. Fighting the climax every step of the way, he thrust helplessly. Too good! It was just too good.

  He quaked. He groaned.
And he came ‑‑ buried to the hilt inside her. She echoed his release, each ripple of her body prolonging his pleasure.

  “I can’t wait to see the encore. That was a hell of a show.”

  Velvet yelped, dragging her legs down to his waist as she stretched to look behind him.

  “Gwen! For God’s sake, give us a minute!”

  “Sorry, doll. No can do. You’ve got something that belongs to me. It just seemed polite to let you finish fucking before I took it back.”

  Furious, Trevor stood and tossed the edge of the blanket over Velvet. He jerked on his jeans and faced the blonde. “You may think this is funny, but…”

  His words trailed away when she leveled her pistol at his chest. “I’m not laughing. Where’s my thumb drive? It wasn’t in the house.”

  Suppressing his reaction with single-minded focus, Trevor reassessed the situation. He infused his voice with annoyance. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Let’s not play games. Micah’s insurance packet is spread on the kitchen table. All that’s missing is the thumb drive.”

  Velvet stood, wrapping the blanket around her like a toga. “Sarah, I presume?”

  “I really don’t want to kill you, but I will. Just give me the fucking drive.”

  Was she stupid enough to attempt this alone?

  God, he hoped so.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was nothing in the envelope but articles. This is actually sort of funny. We had no idea what it all meant until you pointed your gun at me.”

  “You’re so full of shit I can smell you from here.”

  She fired into the sand between his feet.

  Velvet screamed.

  Trevor shifted his stance, preparing to strike. “Shooting me won’t --”

  He dove for Gwen without warning, tackling her backward into the sand. The gun went off again, uselessly into the air. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, he squeezed her slender wrist. Her grip released and he used her numbed hand to bat the gun out of reach.

  “Should have shot first, you stupid bitch!”

  * * * * *

  The next two hours passed in a surreal blur for Velvet. She felt like such a fool! How could Gwen have deceived her so completely? She’d considered Gwen a friend.

  Lieutenant Rojo and a small army of police personnel arrived in response to Velvet’s call. Gwen was arrested and loaded into a squad car as Velvet looked on in disbelief. The crime scene investigators methodically collected evidence from the house and the beach, while Rojo took their statements.

  “Strickland called about an hour ago,” Rojo said, closing his tablet. “Derrick Wryston is singing like a bird, trying to save his ass. He didn’t know what name the ‘Mistress’ goes by here in L.A. We were running background checks on all the L.A.-based employees when I got your call.”

  “Is Roger all right? He had to have told her where to look for the thumb drive.” Velvet rested her head against Trevor’s shoulder, glad for the support of his strong arm. They sat on the sofa. Rojo faced them in the matching chair.

  “Ms. Vermaneli is fond of knives. Roger will survive. He’s in the hospital.”

  Trevor gave her a little squeeze. “Wasn’t Micah stabbed, too?”

  “We’ve already made that connection. Forensics should confirm our suspicion.”

  “Who is Anthony Depalma?” Trevor asked. “He’s assumed the identity of a dead man.”

  “According to Derrick --”

  “Snake is more appropriate.” Velvet shuddered.

  “According to Snake, the man in question’s real name is Larry Philpot. He’s a petty criminal who has known ‘the Mistress’ all his life. Pardon my language, but Snake said she keeps him around because of his ‑‑ endowments.”

  “We’ve given you everything you need to put them all away. You have to promise me there won’t be any deals.”

  “That’s not my decision to make, but the importance of Snake’s testimony is pretty much abolished by what we have here.”

  It was nearly dawn by the time the police departed. Trevor and Velvet stood on the deck overlooking the ocean, his arms wrapped around her waist, her head tucked under his chin. She leaned back into his warm body, her mind still reeling.

  “What happens now?” Her voice was hushed and thoughtful.

  “We take a nice warm shower and go to sleep, knowing it’s finally over.”

  She smiled. “I wasn’t being quite so literal.” Turning in his arms, she raised her hands to his shoulders and leaned her hips against the railing. “Where do we go from here?”

  He brushed her hair away from her face and gently kissed her mouth. “Anywhere we want. We can stay here ‑‑ even though I hate L.A. ‑‑ or you can come home with me. But that would mean leaving Dillon, unless he came with us.”

  “Dillon has friends here; he wouldn’t want to move.”

  “I have connections with a charter airline.” He grinned. “We could fly him down to visit his friends, and his father, as often as you like.”

  She traced his lips with her thumb. “I’ll have to give it some thought, and talk it over with Dillon. Starting over somewhere new sounds pretty good right now.”

  “Or Clayton can run the office in Seattle and… I’m okay with whatever you decide, as long as I’m part of the plan.”

  Rising to her toes, she whispered against his lips, “The rest is just logistics, my love. You are the plan.”

  ~*~

  Aubrey Ross

  Multi-award-winning author Aubrey Ross writes under several pen names, according to genre. Though her stories can take unconventional turns, they’re filled with passion, intrigue, and emotional realism. Whether her stories are set in Hell, Valhalla, or on an alien planet, Aubrey is sure to entertain. For more information about her other titles, visit her website: http://www.aubreyross.com.

  * * * * *

  Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of

  One Thing Leads to Another

  by Sheri Gilmore

  Now available from Loose Id

  One Thing Leads to Another

  “Are you telling me I own a real life whorehouse?” Rose stood, then swayed, but placed her hands on her hips. This was too much. She couldn’t believe Allen had never mentioned any of this to her over the six months she’d known him. The newspapers she’d read depicted him as an entrepreneur, always on the look-out for new ventures. Now she knew what in. Sex! That explained why he had so many miscellaneous write-offs at tax time.

  “Are you okay, Ms. Daniels?”

  Rose smiled at the reporter, noting a flush along his cheekbones and the nervous flicker of his gaze to and from her face. “It’s just low blood sugar. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” Nathan answered Townsend’s question, but his gaze didn’t meet hers. A funny expression crossed his face. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

  She glanced down in the direction he stared. Oh, my God!

  With a swift flick of her hand she pulled her skirt in place. No wonder the two men looked at her like they’d never seen a woman. She buttoned her blouse, but breathed a sigh of relief at his answer. “Oh. Good. There for a second --”

  “We own a whorehouse.”

  Sonofabitch! She watched him smile at his little joke with semantics, while she tried to come to terms with Allen’s death and this, this… She didn’t know what all this entailed. Rose felt her legs tremble. Her stomach growled, and she knew she better eat something soon, or her blood sugar would bottom out big time.

  She reached for her purse and noticed the tell-tale tremor had appeared in her hands. There had been too much chaos over the last few days to think about food. The funeral had been a circus with all three of Allen’s ex-wives present and his various business associates. She frowned. Now that she thought about it, there had been a group of women who had looked a little…wild…at the wake. She sighed. The quiet, well-mannered man she’d been friends with had not been the real Allen Richard.

&
nbsp; “Look I don’t know what kind of sick, twisted mind you have, Nathan, but I can’t handle any more games right now.” She dug to the bottom of the bag and pulled out a squashed breakfast bar. “I just buried a man who I considered a kind-hearted person, but in reality turns out to be a womanizing pimp.”

  She shook her head and tore open the wrapper. She opened her mouth to take a bite, but a large hand snatched the bar from her fingers, then gripped her upper arm.

  “I better never hear you say those words again, lady.” Stormy green eyes, not less than an inch from her face, stared into hers. She tried to step back, but she didn’t have anywhere to go. Hard granite bit into her calves, and two muscled arms trapped her within her own personal space.

  “Allen Richard took me in and gave me a chance to do something with my miserable life.” His mouth set in a straight line and his lips were white.

  “Townsend, the interview is over,” he said. “My partner and I need to have a few words in private.”

  Nathan’s gaze never left hers. Rose swallowed as she heard Mike Townsend’s footsteps walking away. A few seconds later a car door slammed before the motor revved. A lump formed in her throat the size of Texas, and sweat pooled between her breasts. They were alone. She felt the heat radiating from his body. She couldn’t decide which reaction affected her more, anger, fear, or desire.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his eyes glinted, dangerously. She recognized his anger at the remark about Allen, but didn’t know if he might be upset at her telling him he had a sick and twisted mind. Probably both. Allen had only spoken of Nathan in glowing terms, almost like a proud father.

  “I-I’m sorry, Nathan. I shouldn’t have said what I did. He was my friend too. Without him I wouldn’t have been able to start with a clean slate here in Nevada.”

  Seconds ticked away with the two of them staring at each other. She could see gold flecks woven through the green of his irises and marveled at the blackness of his eyelashes and eyebrows in contrast to his tawny hair. Maybe he had highlights.