Onyx Mafia: Insatiable - Episode 1: (Lia and Meghan) (Onyx Mafia: Insatiable Book 1)

by Nova Black

  When I slid open the second drawer I just kind of stood there, not quite knowing how to feel about it.

  Panties.

  Still with price tags or in sealed packaging. Panties of various styles, and various sizes, all bundled and lined in neat little rows.

  The hell?

  I breathed out. Okay, she's a popular woman. Message received. I had no further plans to be alone with Ms. Onyx, so I shouldn’t be jealous of her sexual exploits.

  …Right.

  Silently, I contemplated the little pre-filled sex forms. Should it surprise me I was not the only one caught by Lia? She exuded confidence, sexiness. Her walk alone was enough to capture the attention of the blind, deaf and mute. The sway of her hips rose in my mind. Her laugh. I shook my head, grabbed a red pair of panties in my size and shut the drawer firmly. Made use of the other accoutrements.

  Freshly dressed I eyed the locked drawer; it looked simple enough. I opened my purse, telling myself it was part of my job to investigate her as I slide a set of lock-picks from the handle of my hairbrush.

  Less than a minute and I was in. I was in and staring.

  Boy, howdy. So many sex toys. Long ones, thick ones, ones shaped like eggs… Ones shaped like those little bendy straws. Truly a collection worthy of a museum… of some sort.

  Some vibrators were nestled in similarly shaped compartments carved into the wood of the drawer, and I pulled one out, marveling at the design of it.

  I stood there gawking over a drawer full of dildos when I heard a voice behind me.

  “Ms. Wallace.”

  “Jesus!" I jumped nearly three feet, holding a bouncing, twelve-inch dong in my hand.

  “Agent Eagleton. I, um, found a locked drawer here that… needed to be investigated?”

  He peered into the drawer, eyes sliding slowly to me.

  I closed my eyes briefly. “Yeah, I don’t think there’s anything I need, we need, in here for our, ah, for our investigation.”

  I quickly shoved the floppy thing back into the drawer and slammed it shut, both of us wincing when the head caught in the edge. Awkwardly, I extended a finger and poked it back inside, closing the drawer until I heard the click of the lock setting.

  Kill me now.

  He cleared his throat, giving me a ‘women’ look of exasperation. “Ms. Wallace I need you to attend a meeting.”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “I was recently informed there is a semi-annual meeting about company finance occurring today. Seeing how you are the only agent in this team with a background in finance-”

  “Mathematics and Biology, sir.”

  He waved his hand, “Whatever, it’s better than my poli-sci. The point is I need you to sit in on this meeting and get a feel of any discrepancies. We’ve selected you for this job because you’re a quick study. See if the numbers aren’t adding up, if any accountants are looking particularly shifty-eyed. That sort of thing.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  We stood there in uneasy silence, the panty drawer still slightly ajar, contents clearly askew.

  A thought occurred. “How did you know I was still in here?"

  “I ran into Ms. Onyx on my way to find you and she said something about needing a beverage and that you were probably still in here. Told me to go right in." His eyes wandered to the panty drawer again.

  “Ok, well, um, as soon as I finished my search I’ll hop on over to that meeting.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, good. Ah, Ms. Wallace, I know you are relatively new to working undercover but you must remember not to lose yourself in the thrill of the chase. It’s the little details that will get you in trouble if you let down your guard.”

  I stared at him, seeing my five-year career working at the FBI going down the drain. “What do you mean, sir?”

  His chin pointed to the floor behind me.

  Now, there are moments so embarrassing that your brain tries, for your own sanity, to trick you into believing events are happening to another person. Another Meghan, not this Meghan.

  As I turned to look my brain assured me this Meghan’s sex-soiled underwear was definitely not on the floor in front of her boss. This Meghan’s boss was definitely not picking them up and definitely, definitely not folding them and placing them into Lia’s clean underwear drawer. Straightening the line of panties just so.

  I nodded my thanks and slid the drawer shut, waiting for him to comment on the wetness, or the sex smell. But no such comment was forthcoming.

  He just stood there, waiting for something.

  I cleared my throat, the image of him holding my drenched panties and folding them taking precedent of all other thoughts. Oh god, throwing my hands up in horror and running around in circles was a distinct possibility any moment now.

  “I’ll do better, sir. With the details.”

  He nodded, satisfied. “The meeting starts in five minutes. Fortunately, it was postponed from a slightly earlier time or I would not have been able to slip you in.”

  I could feel the blood draining from my face. There are tons of meetings a day in a company this large but…

  “Ah, sir. About this meeting–”

  “I know I’m putting you on the spot, Wallace, but the Q&A panel session is only twenty minutes and Ms. Onyx assured me she would throw you softballs." He clapped me on the shoulder. “Good thing she likes you, eh?”

  Shit. I nodded, wishing for this goddamned day to end.

  The word meeting was an understatement: Power conference or convention of bigwigs may have fit better. Whatever Lia had told Agent Eagleton, this was not a simple “semi- annual company finance” get together. Within moments I recognized some of the more notable figures in the upper echelons of finance. The president of a major U.S. bank nodded in my direction as a harassed looking woman led me up the aisle to the waiting panel of experts. Climbing the wooden steps I realized I would never be able to work undercover in white-collar crimes anymore. Not unless I kept this persona.

  I sat, literally placed under the spotlight as “Meghan Wallace”, expert company finance auditor.

  Shit, shit, shit…

  Shit.

  The podium was next to me and I smelled cinnamon spice before I saw Lia. She leaned over to me, temporarily blocking the light burning my eyes.

  She smiled and my heart skipped. “Breathe, Meghan. It won’t be too bad, I promise.”

  But it was.

  To my credit the rest of the experts fumbled questions as well. Lia was… exacting, tweezing details from vague answers, pinning down waverers and sidesteppers. She didn’t allow the audience to question me too much, answering some of the tougher questions and throwing the relatively simple problems my way. No one was too interested in my “expertise” anyway. I mainly sat there under the glaring lights, adrenaline and nerves making my entire body alternate flush hot or cold.

  The crowd was a blur of expensive suits and glinting Rolexes. Rich laughter. There was no way I was getting usable information from this session.

  I just wanted to get out alive.

  The panel session finally ended and I was led to an empty seat in the front row, right under the podium where Lia was giving her presentation. I didn’t understand much of it, most of it specified terminology, but it was beautifully made with graphs that moved and charts displaying information in dizzying zooms of animation. I was not the only member of the audience mesmerized, we hung on her every word, smiled when she did, and laughed congenially when she told a small joke or anecdote.

  Once in a while she would look down at me and I would be stricken by the hungriness in her gaze. How could others not see it? How was I not exposed immediately as the newest conquest of Lia Onyx? Then her lips would twitch and her gaze would move on, allowing me to exhale.

  In the end she played the crowd like a master and we gave her everything she asked of us. A rousing round of applause spelled the end of the session.

  I tried to slip out. I
swear I did. But she was behind me, a hand on the small of my back.

  “Wait for me. Please.”

  And then she was gone in the push of the crowd, only seen as glimpses of color in the shifting wall of black and navy suits. I sat down, trying to justify not leaving, all of my reasons as shallow and pitiful as they sounded.

  And then, we were alone.

  She was at the podium picking at the room’s control panel.

  “Meghan,” she said.

  My breath caught. I didn’t wait for her to tell me to come to her. I was there as if she’d grabbed my arm and dragged me bodily onto the stage.

  She smiled warmly at me; the heat of the crowd had made her cheeks glow, eyes bright in the lights. Her head tilted as she assessed me, smile turning into that predatory expression that made me clench deep in my stomach.

  “I’m in the mood to celebrate."

  She touched a button on the panel and all the lights but one flickered out. A single spotlight, the one that had been blinding me during the panel, made a bright yellow circle of light on the wood table.

  Just when I was starting to panic she kissed me. And in that moment it occurred to me that we’ve never kissed. I swear her lips tasted of honey and cinnamon, so soft and the perfect amount of plumpness. She moved her tongue languidly, taking her time and exploring the depths of my mouth, the edges of my lips tingling at the rough laps of her tongue. Her hand trailed to cup the underside of my breasts, fingers playing with my nipples.

  I became a giant ball of need. The entire afternoon, the nervousness, the anxiety, the burst of adrenaline - it all led to this moment. I was quivering with each touch of her hand, stroke of her tongue. Anything she wanted I gave, moaning as her hands slipped into my pants, unbuttoning my shirt when she attempted to reach inside it.

  I was completely naked and she was not. Before that worry could penetrate my brain she guided me to the other side of table, pushing me down into the circle of light.

  “Jesus. No, Lia,” I said, leaning up with my elbows. Her glittering eyes in the darkness sent another wave of arousal through me and I damn near came, how intensely her gaze affected me. But I fought it valiantly, looking desperately around the dark room.

  “Someone will see.”

  Her voice was husky with desire. “I will see you, Meghan.”

  I swallowed, fighting another wave, fighting the deep thrumming desire between my thighs.

  “The doors are locked. No one else is coming in.” She leaned over me, kissing my navel. “Lie down."

  So help me God. I did.

  She traced kisses from my navel to the top of my pelvis, going lower, giving a quick flick of the tongue on my clit. I moaned, so close to orgasm already.

  “Today we shall play a counting game.” Her sexy voice carried over my skin and I shivered, mute. “I say eight times. What do you say, Meghan?”

  I shook my head, confused. Then a disbelieving laugh erupted when I caught her meaning. Eight orgasms?

  “Yeah, right. Let’s go for ten.”

  She smiled, brows rising. “Let’s.”

  A genuine burst of fear made me tremble harder as she lowered her head between my spread legs. I didn’t know if my body could stand another orgasm like the one she gave me earlier. But, ten?

  “Lia,” I whispered and she paused, glancing up at me. “Um, yeah I mean Ms. Onyx."

  A low, warm chuckle. “You may call me Lia. I think you’re about to earn the privilege.”

  “I saw the underwear and, things, in the drawer. Does this mean you not in this for the relationship aspect?”

  “Sweetheart, fucking you against my office door is not necessarily professing undying love and devotion.” She grinned. “Though I did enjoy it. We both did.”

  “Uh-huh." My insides started doing echo tremors, remembering the confusing but oh-so-pleasurable sex.

  She gave me a knowing look. “Is that all?”

  Fuck it. I nodded, lying back onto the wood table, the spotlight exposing every secret my body held.

  Her grin was positively evil as she leaned in. “Good. Now, here comes number one.”

  ~~~

  To say she was good would be to say Picasso could scribble and Shakespeare draft a decent limerick. She was an artist, a connoisseur gifted in tongues and I was her canvas.

  Number seven roiled through me and I was a wreck, making sounds that shouldn’t be possible by the human throat. Ever. A constant roll of tremors ran up and down my body, the tips of my fingers were sore, my fingernails scratching deep into the polished wood table.

  “Lia. I beg you. I yield. Please, I can’t do it.”

  She looked up, mouth smeared with my juices, eyes dark with want and power and licked her top lip. “Convince me,” she said.

  Jesus, this woman. “I can barely breathe. I can’t stop shaking and I’m pretty sure there’s three of you between my legs.”

  Her mouth quirked. “Well, if you’re seeing double–”

  “Triple,” I said quickly.

  “Triple,” she acquiesced, “then I guess, at the very least, I should offer you a glass of water.”

  I lay back down, exhausted. In the surrounding darkness I heard a sound of a bottle opening and liquid being poured.

  “Drink, Meghan.” She sat beside me on the table, handing me a straw with the glass. Her fingers traced the contour of my torso, tapping my hip. “We have one more to go.”

  I moaned, shaking my head in denial. Water spilled against my chest and she leaned over, taking her time to lap it off. My moan changed timbre when a breast found a way into her warm mouth, the tips of her teeth pressing the nipple in rhythm with the suction from her mouth.

  “Oh god... okay. One more.”

  She nodded, sliding down between my legs.

  The bastard had an ace in the hole, saving the best for last. It was a showstopper: She was like that guy at the carnival with the plates spinning on a stick, moving from plate to plate to keep inertia going.

  My erogenous zones were the plates.

  She licked my clitoris, inside me and the length of flesh between them. In rapid succession she teased them, warm tongue lapping each to individual heights, moving from one to the other as soon as the level of arousal rose.

  At first I didn’t know what was going on – the time she spent on each spot too short, the waves of pleasure choppy and abrupt, falling too soon. She kept it up and the waves grew, flowing together, the regions becoming indistinguishable in pleasure.

  Her tongue became the new pulse of my body, pushing the waves higher. Oh, fuck me, it was good. I was shaking, moaning, writhing under her mouth. Her grip on my thighs paramount and my hips rose and rose…

  “My god, Lia, what are you doing! It’s too much! I can’t…” My speech turned unintelligible as she upped the ante, pressing a firm finger against my ass, her tongue still working my everywhere.

  I nearly screamed. My body didn’t know what to do with itself. Should it turn inside out? Explode? Reboot?