by Skylar Cross
Then his head is gone.
Oh my God, no!
I feel my panties pulled aside as his hot breath hits me down there underneath my dress.
Behind me.
In my crotch.
Is he licking his own fingers as he finger fucks me?
Shit no, he's breathing hard and hot up the crack of my ass.
Oh no…no no no…no way...no fucking way.
And yet, the warm pulse of breath back there opens me up in a way I have never known.
My pussy sits atop a mounting volcanic orgasm.
Then his tongue is on my asshole.
Nooooooo!
I don't do that!
Well…okay, once in the closet of that apartment on Bleecker street with Kent Randall…but I don't do that!
Something happens to me.
I drift, hitting the stratosphere as his tongue pushes itself way up my ass and he finger fucks me harder, stretching my walls.
I hit some kind of mad crescendo as the sensations overwhelm me.
With his tongue still way up there, he presses on something that makes my toes curl.
Then I come.
My entire body shakes and I let out a grunt right at the final note of the rock band’s song. The crowd erupts in applause as my body writhes.
Then he’s back at my neck again with his velvety voice.
“Good girl,” he says. “Wait for your next instruction.”
I can barely speak so I don’t answer.
“Acknowledge me,” he says.
“Yes, commander.”
Then he’s gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Terissa
Oh no!
Does that alarm clock really say 8:05? Shit fuck shit. I should be on the Metro by now.
How did I allow this to happen? Who am I lately?
Then I remember.
Oh God, did I actually get finger-fucked by a complete stranger with his tongue up my ass? What is wrong with me? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?
Shit, I have to meet Dreynauld at 9:30 at the Chinese restaurant! I’d better skip going into the office. I’ll shower and then text Judith that I thought it would be better to meet Dreynauld with a fresh mind. Then I’ll text Kellan.
As I shower, I swear I can still feel his presence all over my skin...whoever he is. I resist the urge to turn my shower head on high and massage myself while pretending his fingers and tongue are still inside me. I just don’t have the time.
When I’m done, I notice my iPhone is vibrating. Judith.
Not good.
“Hello,” I say.
“Terissa!” says Judith in a DEFCON-1 voice. “Get into the office right away!”
“But I have to meet with—”
“Don’t say the name out loud! Your meeting is cancelled. Just get in here.”
“Okay.”
I hang up.
Nope, not good at all.
* * *
I know something is wrong because there are four men standing in the lobby of Judith Brand & Associates. They have that Federal agent look. Live here long enough, recognize the look.
Definitely not good.
What? Why? How?
Whatever. I’ll face it.
I hold my head high and walk to my office to drop my things off, but standing outside my door are two more agents in suits.
They step aside and allow me in, where sitting at my desk is Judith.
Standing next to her is John Daniels, the Attorney General of the United States.
“Shut the door, Terissa,” says Judith.
I shut the door. “This is Attorney General John Daniels.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand, but he doesn’t take it.
Daniels is forty-five-ish, thinning blond hair with a big round forehead, and pudgy with a reddish complexion and blue eyes. He’s wearing a cheap raincoat over his suit as he stares me down.
“Miss Ivers,” he says while chewing gum, “I’m here to ask you about Edouard Dreynauld.”
I look at Judith.
“It’s okay to talk about it, Terissa,” she says. “Unfortunately, Mr. Dreynauld is dead.”
My breath escapes me in as my hand goes up to my mouth. I sit down.
We won’t let anything happen to you.
That’s what I said to him. Hollow empty words that apparently meant nothing. Shit, I failed him. The poor frightened man.
“How?” I say.
“Murdered,” says Daniels. “The details aren’t important. Don’t worry. We know you had nothing to do with it. But Miss Ivers, we need to know what he told you.”
“I…uh…”
Judith hands me a tissue. I blow my nose.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Miss Ivers, this is a matter for national security. Anything you may have been told needs to be relayed to us.”
I hesitate. Should I?
“He said he had evidence that the current President killed the former President and First Lady,” I say. “No, not killed. Had them killed.”
“That is what we suspected. Did he have proof?”
“Supposedly on a flash drive. I was going to meet him this morning and he was going to give it to me.”
Daniels’ eyes narrow. “Miss Ivers, we need that flash drive.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I was supposed to meet him this morning, but now you’re telling me he’s dead.”
Daniels just stares and chews. His big red nose seems to grow as he looks at me. “He didn’t tell you where it was?”
“No.”
“Miss Ivers, are you telling me the truth?”
“Of course I am! I have no reason to lie.”
“You do not know where the flash drive is?”
A stab of anger fires up through me. I don’t like this man. “I do not know where the flash drive is. No, I do not.”
He squints, then turns to Judith. “Fine, but the Justice Department will be in touch.”
He storms out and his team falls in line.
“What happened?” I say to Judith when we’re alone.
“You know all I know. Terissa, you’re sure he didn’t tell you somehow?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Judith sighs and turns to the window. “Then I guess there’s nothing we can do. There is evidence out there, hard evidence, that the President of the United States is a murderer. And now we may never have it.”
Judith gets up and leaves. I stand, walk around to my desk and flop into my chair, where I bury my face in my hands. I just want to cry.
Something catches my eye from between my fingers. On top of the morning mail, I see a hand-addressed envelope to me with no return address.
That’s strange. I never receive handwritten mail.
I open the envelope and take out an embossed card on Jefferson Hotel stationery. Scrawled in pen are the words:
Union Station. Locker 437. Combination is 45-76-32-12.
I put my hand up to my mouth.
Oh my God!
I walk over to Judith’s office and pop my head in the door.
“Judith, I’m going out for a walk. Try to think, clear my head. Maybe I’ll remember something.”
“Yes, do that,” she says.
I grab my purse and walk out.
* * *
Union Station is everything a capitol city’s train station should be. All granite and pillars.
I walk up to the information counter. “Lockers?” I say.
“Over there,” says the attendant.
“Thank you.”
I mill through the crowd trying not to look like an attorney about to retrieve secret evidence from a locker, pausing to look at the Amtrak schedule. I find the lockers in a large alcove on the bottom level.
There it is. Locker 437. Yep, that’s it. All I have to do is walk over and enter the combination. I have a staring contest with Locker 437 for a minute. It doesn’t blink.
Move, Terissa. You
’re on security cameras.
I step forward and type in the code on the keypad.
I get it wrong three times, I’m so nervous. Shit. Does it lock you out if you make too many mistakes? Maybe. What will I do then?
One more time, Terissa. Deep breath now. Type in the code, nice and slow.
Clink!
The door snaps open. I move it the rest of the way on its hinge.
There in the center, all by itself, is a lonely little flash drive.
I quickly pocket it, close the locker, and walk out of Union Station as normally as possible.
Although I don’t know if normal will ever be the same.
Because in my purse is something that can topple the President of the United States and even change the course of the entire world.
* * *
Watch for
Capitol Submission 2
Coming Soon
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Also by Skylar Cross:
The Cage Sessions
Controlled by His Voice
Mastered by His Touch
The Stark Affair