by Marie Jermy
He frowned. He always used his cell phone for Federation business, and Carrick always spoke to him on his cell. Either that or e-mailed him. So why had his friend called the agency? Probably because he’d left his cell in his car, Scott realized at the same time he noticed his laptop on the floor by the open door. “I’ll take it in my office. Do you know how to transfer it?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
He laughed, gave her a quick, hard kiss, and after retrieving his laptop, entered his office and closed the door. Only then did he realize he’d left his Beretta out on reception. Damn, was sex with Leia making him careless and forgetful? He hoped not. Not when he was looking forward to a repeat performance.
He retrieved the gun and quickly slipped the holster on before he forgot. The button signaling an incoming call was blinking furiously on his phone. “Sam,” he said, sitting down and finally answering the call. “What’s up?”
“What, you mean apart from my cholesterol?”
“You’re a vampire. You don’t have cholesterol. Neither do you have high blood pressure, brain waves, breath, a pulse, or a beating heart. You don’t eat, and apart from blood, drink. You don’t sweat, piss, dump, or do any other bodily functions that us mortals do. However, as a ‘New Generation’ vampire you can lay in the sun for five hours without fear of frying. Oh, and the sex is mind-blowing.”
“Well, slap a crucifix on my forehead—”
“Crucifixes and vampires are a myth,” Scott interjected tartly. “That only happens in Hollywood. The same goes for holy water.”
“Okay, so drive a stake through my dead heart then!” Carrick laughed good-naturedly. “No guessing who’s pissed you off. How is my delightful brother-in-law? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
“And I don’t want to talk about him,” Scott firmly stated. “So are you calling about Federation business?”
“No.” Carrick turned solemn. “I heard about Laura. I’m sorry. What happened?”
Scott picked up his pen and twirled it through his fingers. “Her unfinished business, namely me, she, er…Well, she finished. If she were alive, I suppose you could say she dumped me.”
“It’s not like you to play it light, Scott. Are you okay?”
“Mmm,” he responded, not really listening. His eyes centered on the door, in particular to the woman sitting on the other side. Leia. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. Or the sex.
Don’t ask me to stop, Leia.
I won’t. I want this. I want you, Scott.
Now?
Now.
“Why don’t you come to Brisbane?” Carrick asked, interrupting Scott’s thoughts just as he replayed his relentless hammering of Leia on the desk that culminated with two orgasmic explosions. Who needed to be a vampire to experience mind-blowing sex? “Stay with me and Alice for the weekend. We’ve turned vegetarian, so I can guarantee you won’t be on the menu. Still, we won’t be offended if you bring the garlic. And I know that’s definitely no myth. Christ, I couldn’t stand the stuff when I was human, but now it’s even worse. It’s like the vampire equivalent of the clap. Not that I ever had the clap,” he swiftly added.
Scott laughed then, feeling more alive than what he’d felt in ages. “Honestly, thanks for the invite, Sam. I would accept, but I think a big case is coming my way for this weekend.”
“Ah, the old ‘Rafferty Radar.’ Always as accurate as your aim.”
Carrick sounded pissed, but Scott knew better. Sam had thirty years more Federation experience, and Scott knew he would never be as good as his friend and mentor. And now that Carrick was a vampire, he was a hundred times more deadly.
“Well, if you change your mind…”
“I know where you are,” Scott finished. Bidding his friend good-bye, he took the laptop from its case, thankful it hadn’t been damaged by its contact with the floor, powered it into life, and checked his appointments. Good. No ghosts were scheduled to walk through his walls until later that evening.
One of the ghosts he noticed was a suicide named Dee Wallace. A victim of a rape that understandably had made her extremely wary of men, it had taken him near enough six months to get her to actually be in the same room as him. Really, she needed a woman to talk to. Leia would be perfect. He immediately pushed that thought from his mind. Sex with Leia wasn’t just making him careless and forgetful, it was making him brain dead.
Scott quickly checked his e-mails. Sure enough, Carrick had sent a message. He laughed out loud when he opened it and read the coarse words. He was just about to send an equally coarse reply when a high-pitched whine alerted him that something was very wrong out on reception.
Leia…
Scott jumped to his feet.
* * * *
“Archie, you can come out now.” There was a turn of a handle, muffled paw steps across the carpet, a few low woofs that translated to “About time!” and then a wet nose pressed into Leia’s palm, signaling Archie was by her side.
Now what had she been doing before that mind-blowing sex? Yes, that was it. She’d dropped “Scott’s office” Braille label that she had printed on her home printer the night before on the floor. She opened her mouth to instruct Archie to find it when a decidedly damp patch between her legs told her she should visit the restroom instead.
Leia rounded the reception desk and located her purse. “The pitfalls of not using condoms,” she said as Archie guided her to the restroom. “Stay. Woof me in five minutes,” she instructed and closed the door.
She slipped her skirt and panties off. After wiping most of Scott’s hot semen away with toilet paper, she filled one of the basins with warm water. Using the soft paper hand towels, she washed and dried herself. A sanitary pad from her purse ensured any further leaks were absorbed.
Slipping her panties and skirt back on, Leia gripped the sides of the basin and imagined she could see her flushed face in the mirror. Good Lord, Scott had certainly made that first move, all right. He just hadn’t been hotter than sin either, he’d been the devil himself. Dangerous. Dark. Wicked. Her nipples still throbbed from his skillful tongue, and her skin burned from his ice-cold touch.
But that was nothing compared to what his cock had done to her. Her past lovers had managed to bring her to orgasm, but none of them were as talented or as big as Scott. Really, he hadn’t needed to use his fingers. The way he had filled and stretched her with that long, rigid length, then the powerful grinding and thrusting had been more than enough to make her come.
And what an orgasm! Leia didn’t think she’d ever come as freaking hard in her life.
She did have one complaint, though. Not only had Scott remained as tight as a drum and revealed nothing further about himself like she’d thought he might, but she had wanted to touch him. Put her hands on his biceps, his pecs, his abs, and all those other hard and lean muscles and feel them clench, quiver and quake with exertion as he drove his cock inside her. But he’d stopped her before she’d even unbuttoned his shirt.
She pondered on the reasons why as she applied fresh lip gloss. Was he self-conscious of a too hairy chest? Shoulders? Back? Maybe he was a caveman. Or a werewolf. Leia would have laughed if she didn’t think the secrets wound around Scott were in some way connected to all of the following.
One. I have a feeling the next woman you screw will become your wife. She’d heard those words twice and wasn’t stupid not to know she was that next woman. Nor was she stupid enough to book the church and start sending out the invites. It was one hell of a leap to go from screwing to proposing marriage. They hadn’t even had a proper date.
Two. The anxious and troubled woman ghost from the day before.
Three. The other ghosts, also women, that had visited during the night. She’d felt their presence the moment she walked into the office at 7:45 a.m. Other people—all men—had visited, too. However, as far as she could tell they’d all been alive.
Archie’s low woof signaled five minutes were up.
Leia
exited the bathroom at the same time she heard footsteps cross the main office door threshold. It was a man. His aura was strange. It wasn’t menacing or anything like that, anxious maybe, but she knew something wasn’t right. However, Archie by her side, she walked forward to greet him, a warm, pleasant smile on her face. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?”
There was a pause, then a voice with a noticeable British twang and a slight quiver said, “I don’t have an appointment, but is it possible to see Mr. Rafferty?”
“I’ll just check. Can I have your name, please, sir?”
“Professor Bill Rogers.”
Leia nodded and turned to the desk to dial Scott’s phone. Suddenly, Archie growled and pulled on his harness as if to jump at the professor’s throat. She tightened her grip. There was another growl, a low, warning growl—had that come from Archie?—and then he whined and backed away, tugging her with him.
Concerned, she dropped to her knees and attempted to placate Archie with soothing words, but his whines got louder, and he continued to back away. His whole body trembled beneath her hands. Then, silently and stealthily, almost as though he was a ghost, Scott was beside her, his strong arms around her, his cold hands covering hers. That dark, dangerous, and compelling aura of his was strangely comforting to Archie.
“Leia, are you okay?”
She unerringly locked eyes with him and nodded. “It’s Archie. He’s scared.” Of him, she telepathically added. There’s something strange about him. She felt Scott turn slightly.
Who is he?
Professor Bill Rogers. Says he wants to see you.
The professor then spoke. “Mr. Rafferty? I really need to speak to you. And ma’am? I’m sorry about your dog. I think we’re both afraid. I was bitten by one when I was a child and haven’t been comfortable with them since.”
Leia believed that as much as Scott did. He’s lying.
I know. “Sir, if you’d like to wait in my office. I’ll be with you shortly.”
The moment the professor left, Archie woofed and licked Scott’s fingers. “He says thank you,” Leia explained. “And he’ll never think about biting you in the balls again.”
“Ditto.”
Her laugh was captured by Scott’s mouth covering hers. His skillful tongue stroked and hooked around hers until, with a primal groan, he rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. Leia was grateful that his hold was secure, because, honestly, with the long, rigid length of his cock pressing into her, her legs had turned to Jell-O.
When he’d kissed her earlier, it had been wild and urgent, but this one was slower, languid, as though he wanted to taste and explore every part of her. Her arms snaked around his neck. Both hands molding to her ass, his hot mouth slid to her earlobe. His tongue licked a sensitive patch of skin that she hadn’t even been aware was one of her erogenous zones.
“God, Leia, I want you that much. I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”
“I want you, too,” she admitted, purring as he continued to lick her ear until she remembered Professor Rogers. Her legs found some strength, and she pushed on his chest. “But not now, okay?”
He sighed. “No, not now.” He rested his forehead against hers, his ragged breath fanning her face. “You might want to put more lip gloss on. I’ve kissed it right off again.”
Leia smiled and ruffled Scott’s hair. “A caveman habit you seem to have developed.” His laugh was dark and sexy and curled her toes inside her boots. Then, with a light kiss, he was gone as silently and stealthily as he’d arrived. Was Scott a ghost after all?
One woof followed by two.
Yes. And no.
* * * *
Closing his office door, his long strides eating up the carpet, Scott just as swiftly sat down behind his desk before Professor Bill Rogers got a real eyeful of the hard-on that tented his pants and showed no sign of diminishing anytime soon.
Leia’s warm, willing body pressed to his. Her gorgeous creamy breasts, her rosy nipples budding against his cold palms. Her pale pink painted bee-stung lips that resembled the plump lips of her pussy. Just as glistening. So tempting. Could his cock get any harder? Keep thinking about Leia, and it’ll explode, Scott wryly told himself. He expelled a long breath and turned his attention to Rogers, seated opposite, his posture as rigid as his cock.
Leia was right. There was something strange about the man, and it possibly had something to do with the way his knuckles were turning white as he gripped the handle of the brown soft leather document case he held on his lap. Dressed in a tweed jacket and navy cord slacks, Benjamin Franklin glasses perched halfway down a long nose, his short sandy-colored hair receding at the temples, Scott guessed Rogers to be in his early fifties.
“Would you like a coffee…?” Despite knowing, Scott let his question linger as though fishing for a name.
“Professor Bill Rogers. And no.”
Was it his imagination, or had Rogers growled that “no” out? “You wanted to see me. What can I do for you?” Not responding, Rogers stared out of the window. Scott further noted that the professor was shaking, and perspiration dotted his brow. And he didn’t think it was down to his so-called fear of Archie.
Silence stretched into one minute, two, then three. Finally, on the fourth minute, and with Rogers still staring out of the window, Scott, with exasperation, said, “It’s a nice view, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Particularly of Manhattan Heights.”
Scott frowned and swiveled his chair around. Manhattan Heights was New York’s newest five-star hotel, boasting the Liberty Penthouse Suite—the city’s most expensive hotel room—conference center, three restaurants and cocktail lounges, nightclub and casino, fitness, spa and beauty center, and an impressive heated rooftop swimming pool.
According to a recent newspaper article covering its opening day, the hotel was supreme luxury. No expense had been spared to ensure all of its guests, and indeed the general public who paid for the use of its facilities, were well cared for, well catered for, pampered and entertained, and basically treated as if they were either A-list celebrities or royalty.
Unimpressed, Scott turned back to Rogers who silently opened his document case and handed him a large manila envelope. He undid the unsealed flap and removed several eight-by-ten glossy photographs. Finally, his cock softened, but his brows rose as he flipped through the color prints, all of which captured Rogers and a younger woman tangled together in a range of wild sexual positions.
“And before you ask, Mr. Rafferty, no, that is not my wife.”
“Okay, Professor Rogers, do you want to explain why you look as though you’re about to face a firing squad?” Scott asked as he shoved the photographs back into the envelope.
“After I was invited to stay at the Manhattan Heights, in the Liberty Penthouse Suite no less, I received those photographs and a letter through the mail. The letter said my wife would be killed if I didn’t pay one-hundred-thousand dollars into an offshore account. It also said she would be killed if I went to the police.”
“Do you have the letter?” Scott asked. Rogers nodded and handed him a folded sheet of paper from his case. He read the letter. Typed on Manhattan Heights headed paper, it was extremely threatening and was signed “With compliments of the management.” “Who’s the woman?”
“My secretary, Jane Pilkington. Look, I know it’s the oldest story in history, but even though I love my wife dearly, I just couldn’t control my libido when it came to Jane.”
Mmm, I know what you mean, Scott silently agreed, his thoughts immediately going to the woman sitting outside in the reception area. He swore he could still feel Leia’s sweet-smelling and trembling body entwined around his as he screwed her on the desk. Honestly, his screwing had been brutal, but Leia had not only taken it, but had exploded in his arms. He wondered if she would come equally as hard if he used his mouth and tongue on the plump lips of her pussy.
Dragging his lusty thoughts back to the present situation before he developed a
nother hard-on, he removed the photographs from the envelope and studied them. From the angle of the shots, there were cameras located in the walls surrounding the bed and above in the ceiling. Pictures on the walls would disguise the cameras there, but what about the ceiling? Sprinkler nozzle? Smoke detectors? “I don’t suppose you remember what was above the bed, do you?”
Rogers thought for a moment. “Spotlights. There was a dimmer switch by the door, as well as on either side of the bed. We wanted to create a romantic mood, so I left the lights dimmed on low. I wish now that I turned the damned things off.”
“Somehow I don’t think it would have mattered if the lights were on or off,” Scott said, smiling. He then frowned as a thought occurred to him. “How long has Miss Pilkington been in your employment?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but I was invited to stay at the hotel by its manager, Alan McNulty. He wanted to discuss his ideas for a greener hotel. If it wasn’t for that invite, I would never have stayed there. And as for Jane, she has since left my employment. She said sleeping with me was a mistake. And one she intends to keep quiet about.”
For some reason, Scott believed him. He also noticed a resolve to Rogers that he hadn’t noticed before. “Stupid question, but I take it you’re not paying? Do you even have that kind of money?” he added as an afterthought.
“Yes, I do. And no, I’m not,” Rogers stated firmly. “Although I’m scared for my wife, I refuse to be blackmailed by a bunch of sick bastards who get their kicks out of watching their guests having sex.”
“Another stupid question, but why come to me if you feel like that? Why not go to the police?”
“Because I’d like to pay you the one hundred thousand dollars so you can stick it to them where it hurts the most.”
“You go to the police, and they’ll do it for free.”
“I know, but I can’t take that risk. I’m sure I’m being watched.”
“All the more reason to go to the police. They can protect you. And your wife.”