Tinged (The Electric Tunnel Book 3)

by Rachel Blaufeld

  THE FIRST thing I felt was fingers running up and down my leg, tracing patterns on my thighs.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” rang softly in my ear as delicate fingers massaged my tired muscles.

  God, she’s back. Lynx is here. And Carson didn’t need to do anything illegal to find her.

  “Hey, baby,” I said. It came out garbled and groggy.

  “Hey,” she said back, another throaty whisper in my ear, sliding her taut body along mine.

  The air rushed out of me. I could barely breathe from anxiety and excitement.

  My cock was erect, reaching for the voice and its owner. I gave it a quick, hard squeeze, silently reminding it to be patient.

  Because Lynx is here—in my bed.

  A moan escaped from me as she swept her tongue over my ear, trailing a wet, hot path down my neck before swiping that warm, luscious tongue down my chest.

  “Come here, baby.”

  I urged Lynx to kiss my mouth and let me have a taste of what I’d been longing for. But she was stubborn and continued her pursuit south, finally landing near my ready-to-explode dick.

  “Oh Christ.” I let out a long exhale as her warm breath coasted over my tip. Then her whole mouth ghosted over my cock, not really sucking, but lightly tracing its entire length. My mind floated on a bed of clouds. This was bliss.

  I leaned my head back into the pillow and blew all the air out of my lungs. My hands reached for her braids, itching to grab a handful, but instead they met soft waves. My fingers twirled through the strands, encouraging her to continue her soft teasing.

  I was going to blow as soon as she clamped down.

  Then she did, tightening her soft, plump lips around my rigid length, riding me with her mouth. My hips started pumping, pushing deeper into the heat of her mouth. I desperately wanted to come. But I also wanted to get inside her so fucking bad.

  I didn’t have a choice because she picked up speed while grabbing my ball sac and grazing the tip of my cock with her teeth every time she rode to the top. And I fucking exploded down her throat.

  My hips were still pumping when I woke to my hand being a sticky mess.

  “Shit,” I roared into my empty apartment, before I stood up and stomped to the bathroom to clean myself up from a wet dream.

  Two weeks later

  FLANKED BY two security men on either side, Lynx walked confidently through the courtyard wearing a bright red halter dress and a hot-pink-and-red-striped shawl tossed over her shoulders. The sun reflected off the bald bodyguard’s head, and the sound of running water floated from the fountain in the center of the palatial expanse. She couldn’t see them but felt the eyes burning into her from above, the ever-present security cameras that protected the compound and watched each and every one of her steps. The sound of her gold-studded sandals echoed off the stone tile as she contemplated making a run for it.

  Zayid had been feeling magnanimous two weeks ago and had granted her a few days with the other women at the townhouse—but only while he traveled abroad.

  Lord only knows what he’s doing in whatever country he gallivanted off to with God only knows who.

  Following a long evening in his private quarters, he’d broken the news of the upcoming trip. Lynx had seized the moment with a schooled pout on her face.

  “I’ll be lonely while you’re gone. Can I go stay with the girls? I want to lay by the pool and sun myself for when you get back.”

  “Would you like that, my beauty?” He ran a finger down her cheek, letting it trail down her side, making its way to the lacy edge of her panties before finally dipping in and tracing her sensitive spot. “No parties. You’ll behave because you’re all mine,” he said on a growl while shoving his finger inside her.

  Lynx had nodded, afraid to open her mouth, fearing what might come out. With his thumb on her clitoris and now two fingers deep inside her, she’d hated herself for being on the precipice of an orgasm. Begging herself not to moan, she’d remained quiet as Zayid skillfully worked her up. He might not be much to look at but he was a dangerously skilled lover, and no matter how many times Lynx scolded herself for feeling anything where he was involved, she couldn’t stop the effect he had on her.

  But now he was gone and her plan was back in play. What he did while abroad had no bearing on the moment because Lynx got what she’d been driving for—time with the girls.

  Nearing the door, she bowed her head in thanks to the security detail before one of them punched in the code for the door and pushed it open, allowing a rush of cold air to smack her in the face. Her hair, loose and curly, caught in the breeze and swirled all around her face, masking her features covered in equal parts fear and excitement.

  Dane, the enormous bald bodyguard who had protected Lynx from the fat man, caught her eye. “You’re to stay in the townhouse, Lincoln. There’ll be someone posted at this door at all times. Zayid’s orders. I’ll be on the first shift.” He moved next to the door and stood at attention at his post.

  Although Dane was somewhat new, he’d recently risen to the top of the ranks. Zayid liked him, supposedly because Dane took Lynx’s care very seriously. Obviously, he had been tasked with her protection while Zayid was out of the country.

  “I know the rules. Thank you,” Lynx offered quietly and entered the townhouse without looking back.

  She found the other girls lounging by the pool. Feeling at ease, she quickly shimmied out of her dress and scarf and collapsed onto the bright yellow cushions of a lounge chair. Soft music floated from hidden speakers, the scent of coconut oil filled the air, and pitchers of water and sangria lined the side tables.

  Lauryn was on her right, completely nude other than black-and-white polka-dot bikini bottoms, and Kimberlie was on her left, wearing a red G-string bikini. They both turned at the same time and said, “Hey, Lincoln. What’s up, girl?”

  “I’m out, that’s what’s up.” Lynx poured herself a water and sat back in her iridescent purple one-piece suit. It might have been a one piece, but its deep V in the front left little to the imagination.

  “You didn’t go with the master this time?” Kimberlie turned her attention to Lynx, eyeing her from head to toe.

  “No, I’m just happy to be with you ladies. It gets lonely in the apartment. Obviously, Zayid went to the States, so he’ll probably be bringing back a new girl or two.”

  “You’re out, but no parties,” Lauryn said.

  Lynx, unsure if the girl was being matter-of-fact or bitchy, simply nodded.

  “Let her be, Lauryn. She’s lucky she got out to be with us and isn’t MIA like the other black girl,” Ginger said, her words dropping to a whisper at the end.

  Lynx sat up, slipped her sandals back on, and walked toward Ginger. Sitting on the end of the redhead’s lounge chair, she asked quietly, “What happened to her? The other black girl.”

  “No clue. She was here and then she was gone. Then you arrived. That’s it,” Lauryn said.

  “Hush.” Ginger nodded toward the roof where the tiny eyes-in-the sky monitored all their movements.

  “Bull-fucking-shit, Ginge,” Lauryn said with a scowl. “I’m sick of tiptoeing around Lincoln. She shows up on the scene and in a matter of months, she’s the number-one girl and moved into her own place. We should’ve had a chance when that other bitch went missing.” She stalked toward the already crowded lounger. “It’s just so fucking convenient that you’re half black or whatever the hell you are, because we all know Zayid likes dark meat,” she said, leaning over to whisper in her prey’s ear.

  “Enough.” Ginger ran her soft hand up and down Lynx’s arm, settling on her shoulder. “We don’t know what happened to Sammy. She was here for about a year before she was promoted to the private apartment. She was Zayid’s definite favorite, dripping in jewelry and always running off somewhere shopping. Then one day, she was gone.”

  The freckled redhead sighed before continuing. “I liked her a lot. She was sweet and nice, despite growing up rough, in the ghetto or
something like that. Anyway, she was half black like you and caught Zayid’s eye almost immediately, although he shared her with us, unlike you. Every once in a while, one of us would get asked to join them in a threesome. Mostly fingering, eating-out kind of stuff. Oh, and using a dildo on Sammy while Zayid watched. He rarely screwed us when she was in the room,” she said and threw another quick glance at the cameras.

  “She wasn’t in my apartment,” Lynx said quietly. “Mine is new. Maybe she’s still here tucked away?”

  Ginger sucked on her straw, the ruby-red sangria coloring its way to her mouth, and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. She was allowed to have a cell phone, and we’d call her from time to time to check in and stuff. She’d tell us about her trips, make plans to come over after she was gone. The line is dead now. Disconnected.”

  “She wouldn’t have just left,” Kimberlie said, sliding in beside Lynx on the lounge chair. “Sammy would have made contact somehow, unless something bad happened to her.”

  Now there were three beauties sitting on one chaise with one great mystery swirling around them.

  Lynx frowned. “I’m going to sniff around. I wonder if Zayid has her hidden. Maybe he didn’t want to share anymore.”

  She stood and went back to her own chair. She agreed with the others . . . Sammy wouldn’t just disappear unless something was off. But Lynx didn’t need to show all her cards right this minute.

  ZAYID DIDN’T return for a whole week. It was clear that Lynx was correct and he was in the States, because that’s the only place he fell off the wagon to complete debauchery and failed to check in regularly.

  After three days with the girls, Lynx didn’t want to go back to the lonely apartment, dead set on staying and finishing the job she came for. As promised, Dane had looked out for her at the door for most of the shifts. A few times, she’d run some iced tea down to him, pledging perfect behavior if he let her stay on in the house.

  On the morning of the third day, she begged, “Please, Dane. I don’t want to go back to the apartment. It’s lonely, and I’m having fun here.”

  He pushed his aviators down his nose and peered over the lenses, raising one eyebrow. “Lincoln, I don’t think Zayid’ll be too happy with me.”

  “I’m not going to do anything bad. No parties at night, I swear. Nothing. I just don’t want to be alone.”

  Lynx batted her long fake eyelashes, pleading with the muscular wall in front of her. She wasn’t afraid of him. Plus, she was getting somewhere in the Sammy mystery. She needed to stay. With her dark curls fanning all around her face and her mouth painted with sparkly cherry-flavored lip gloss, she gave him her best pout.

  “Okay, but the second we get word that Zayid and his detail are in the air on their way back, your ass is hauling back to the apartment. And no parties, Miss L. You hear me?”

  “Yep.”

  With a little pep in her step, she immediately ran back up to the common room where the girls were dancing and singing in their underwear. Of course, many of them were hopped up on something, but not Lynx. She didn’t do any of that; she needed a clear head to stay on top of details. Then again, she didn’t have to go to a party in a few short hours and sleep with any old cock.

  Sitting onto the couch next to Ginger, who was sipping on a glass of sparkling wine, Lynx said, “Hey girl, you good?”

  The redhead leaned her head on Lynx’s shoulder. “Yeah, just trying to get myself ready for later. You ever think of leaving here?”

  “Yep, but I can’t,” she said, running her hand down Ginger’s soft bare thigh.

  “I know the money’s good, and honestly, what would I do if I left? Go back to dancing in one of those shitty titty bars?” Ginger asked before taking a long sip of her wine.

  Lynx got a faraway look in her eyes as they misted over. “Dancing in a titty bar isn’t always bad, honey. Back home for me, I knew some great guys who ran a club. The girls made good money and were taken care of, and it wasn’t creepy or anything like that,” she said, sniffing back tears.

  Ginger peered over her wineglass. “Hey, you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just missed home for a minute.”

  “Do you think you could go back? Would Zayid let you?”

  “I’m not going anywhere yet, unless I go where Sammy went,” Lynx said with a shudder. “God, where is she? That’s so scary.”

  “Not sure, but I think she either ran or Zayid hurt her. I don’t know why I have so many theories, but why do you care?”

  Yeah, why did she care?

  Because she’d wanted a family her whole life.

  Ginger refilled her drink and grabbed a glass for Lynx. The wine’s oaky smell filled Lynx’s head, mixing with her strange thoughts and delusions of what she would find out in the townhouse.

  Apparently, Ginger was through with the serious talk, because she popped a pill and was soon dancing around the room with the others.

  “YO, CHAN— I mean, Lisa. What’s up, girl? All good?” I shouted into my phone.

  The club was raging. People were lined up around the corner from the Wave, and inside, it wasn’t much better. We’d brought in a headliner for the weekend—a girl from the LA club who went by Aspen. The gorgeous leggy blonde with curves for days and unreal tits had been blowing it out of the water in the City of Angels.

  Apparently, word had traveled, and we had a fucking line a mile long.

  “Hey, Mike. I can barely hear you, but everything’s all good with the house and stuff. I thought you’d want to know the Middle Eastern guys are back, and this time they brought the sheik or whatever the hell he is with them,” Lisa yelled into the phone.

  NWA blasted from the speaker in the background, but all I could hear was they brought the sheik with them. My feet ate up the floor, carrying me toward my office. I threw two fingers up in the air like an airline attendant, pointing toward my private door, and Carson gave me a nod. As luck would have it, he was still in town, considering Lila hand-delivered Aspen to Florida.

  “You’re not going back there, are you?” I yelled into my phone, making my stance known.

  Finally, I was in my office, the music only a faint rumble in the background. Leaning against the steel door, I squeezed my eyes tight.

  “No. Bruno’s barely been sending me anywhere. He’s squeezing me out after the last episode. But Magnolia texted she was going back. She wanted me to know where she was in case anything happened.”

  “Shit!” I kicked my high-top behind me into the door.

  The door opened slightly and Carson yelled, “It’s just me.”

  I moved out of the way, allowing him to enter. I could only imagine what I looked like—wide-eyed and frantic, pacing and swearing and kicking. I was a world away from the prep-school-educated son of a Vegas mogul that I was a few years ago.

  “Give me Magnolia’s number. I’m calling her.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lisa whispered.

  “Darling, you know I don’t give a shit. Give me her digits so I can have my guy talk to her and get a feel for what’s going on, babe.” Changing tack, I said, “You wanna find Lynx, right? This is our only shot.”

  “Okay.” She disconnected the call and then texted me the contact information.

  After I hung up, there was another swift knock at the door. Carson opened it to find Sampson standing outside, a furious look on his face.

  “I want in, Mike. She was my friend—not just your girl—and I’m getting in on this,” he said, pushing his way inside the door. “I was your first hire down here, if you haven’t forgotten, and I’ve been in on this since day one.”

  I nodded and told Carson to fill him in while I texted Magnolia. She was en route to the hotel, one other girl in tow, but the Middle-Easterners wanted one or two more. I was reading aloud as the information was texted in, and then I stopped because Sampson was whispering something in Carson’s ear.

  “What?” I turned on my heel.

  Carson spoke first. �
��You’re not gonna like it, but Sampson has a damn good idea. And I think it may be our only shot.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door, one eyebrow raised, clearly broadcasting that even if I wanted to change his mind, I wouldn’t.

  Fuck. I was truly fucked.

  And that was what I thought before those two idiots shared their plan with me.

  Landon

  I SMACKED the empty tumbler onto the bar and nodded to the bartender for another. The short guy, not much bigger than my grandmother and at least as old, hobbled over and poured me a couple of fingers of cheap Scotch before he scurried off. I ran my hand over my newly bald head, noting the stubble and making a mental note to shave it, and tossed back the Scotch.

  Savoring the burn, I prayed it would numb me.

  I hated this place. It was beyond a hellhole, worse than a shithole. It was a hell of its very own—hot, dusty, dirty, and full of evil. I despised the place. Not even the two-bit hookers made it better. Somewhat ironic to think I could pay next to nothing to get sucked off if I wanted to. Considering why I was here in the first fucking place, that was a real shit show.

  My phone rattled on the bar, vibrating next to my empty glass, and I swiped my finger over the ANSWER CALL button.

  “Landon here.” I tossed a few foreign bills on the bar and walked toward the door with the burner tucked against my neck.

  “What’s happening, man?”

  “Place is a fucking nightmare. Did I tell you how dirty this shit is up in here?”

  “Come on, dude, I know you’re staying in some luxury joint. Cut the crap.”

  I popped my Ray-Bans on, blocking my baby blues from the blinding sun, and made my way down the alley behind the sucky bar.

  I laughed for the first time in days. I was staying at some European-branded posh hotel when I wasn’t living large in the palace. It was one of the perks of the job, and I’d done plenty of harder time in shittier places over the years.