He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” he said, a playful smirk climbing to his eyes. Hooking a leg around her waist, he flipped Cass onto her back and suspended his weight over her body, pinning her wrists down instead. “The thing about that is—I’m really not a good submissive. So, fight me for it. Fight me for your dominance.”
Cass gasped as he pushed his erection slowly into her and her lip trembled. She caught it between her teeth to stop the quivering, but the tremors simply shifted to her eyes and she squeezed them shut, turning her head. Her sex clenched around his cock and he ran his angled nose up her neck to her chin, catching the glistening sheen of sweat.
“Go on.” His eyes sparked. “Fight me.” He thrust hard this time, flicking his hips at the end of the movement. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” His lips crashed down onto Cass’s in a kiss that was filled with need.
She bit down hard on his bottom lip and the coppery taste of blood trickled into her mouth. He pulled back with a sharp inhale and a hand shot to his lip. “Fuck,” he grunted. Cass seized the opportunity, flipping him back around and clasping his hands above his head once more.
She pumped him in and out of herself harder. “This is difficult for you,” she said, breathless. “Not being in control. You know you have more physical strength than I do, and you want the upper hand back.” It was a risk, but she released one of his hands, plunging a finger into her mouth until it was coated with her saliva, and grasped his balls tightly in her free hand.
The struggle stilled beneath the grasp and Cass flicked her wet finger, gently running it along the seam of his ass. A breath hissed from his lungs. “Cass—” he warned.
She pushed farther into the seam. “Try again,” she rasped.
“Mistress,” he smirked from below her, and Cass slowed her thrusts against his erection. He licked a finger, slowly trailing it over Cass’s clit, and circled the swollen nub with a quick tug on the trimmed curls down there.
Cass pushed her finger in deeper and he grunted, his legs straightening out beneath her. The heel of her hand added the slightest bit of pressure to his sac and he lifted his ass off the bed, allowing Cass more access. She didn’t let the gasp she felt inside become audible, but she sure as hell felt it. He actually liked this. It wasn’t just a power move; he enjoyed her finger right where it was.
He circled her clit, adding a bit more pressure, and Cass mimicked the movement his dick made inside of her with her finger. She could feel the swelling in both of them: inside of him and deep inside of her. His engorging, hitting that sweet knot deep in her belly. Sweat dripped down her body and over her breasts, and even though they were barely thrusting, she rocked with his penis still inside of her.
His eyes clenched shut, his neck stretching back, and he gritted his teeth together. “I-I can’t last like this. I’m going to—”
Cass gave a final roll of her hips as he pinched her clit, spiraling her into a series of body tremors. Her sex clamped onto his cock, squeezing, pulsing, and his own body shuddered along with hers. She continued pumping her finger, his gland going wild against the tip as he spurted inside of her. Wet, sticky, and hot—so fucking hot—it ran down her thighs.
His eyes blinked open, fixated on hers, and Cass pulled him out of her. Gathering his cum onto her finger, she took it inside of her mouth, letting most of it trail across her lips. “Kiss me,” she whispered, bringing her face centimeters from his.
Tucking an arm around her shoulders, he gently rolled Cass onto her back, laying a trail of kisses up her throat to her chin. He paused, hovering over her mouth. “Guacamole.” He grinned, handing her a tissue.
9
The gold brooch glistened in the bedroom’s soft lighting as Cass fastened her dress back in place. “At some point I’m going to get you to stay the night here at my house,” she said, flashing him a smirk while reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.
Skimming a hand around her waist, he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, pressing a warm kiss at the base. “You won’t have to work hard. It just can’t be tonight. The sooner I get away from the party, the easier it will be to prove to my clients that I was only here to explain.”
She nodded and smoothed out the soft waves of hair that fell past her shoulders. They weren’t quite so clean as when the night started, but still, she looked good enough for rounding half past midnight. As much as she wanted Master in her bed tonight and into the morning, this wasn’t the night for a sleepover.
Covering his hand with hers, she let her head fall back against him and closed her eyes. “Next time,” she said quietly.
“Next time,” he repeated, nodding behind her.
With his hands gripping her waist, he spun Cass to face him, his lips pausing, hovering above hers. “I don’t know what I’m doing with you. You’ve turned everything upside down.”
Cass blinked, a gasp catching somewhere between her lungs and the back of her throat, and before she could answer he sloped his mouth over hers, capturing her lips in an unexpected kiss that resonated down to her toes. She grasped his neck, pulling him harder into her. God, she didn’t want this kiss to end. She didn’t want to have to go back downstairs and attend to a bunch of guests she didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to have to go meet those people and make a delivery.
But like all good things, the kiss ended, almost as perfectly as it had begun. His teeth clung to Cass’s bottom lip, nipping with the finish, and he smiled, leaning to grab his tuxedo jacket off the floor.
He left without making any additional plans, but for the first time since Cass had met this man, she didn’t doubt him. She didn’t fear their next date or panic over whether she would or would not hear from him again. A calm wave lapped at her body—healing, peaceful—and she closed her eyes, relishing the moment before the storm swept her out to sea.
Master left through the back door, slipping quietly past the crowd with a few hurried good-byes. It was getting to that time of the night when alcohol was taking over and forgotten moments were fueled by lust and wine. The house was so full, bodies were entwined everywhere. Like clockwork, the party was right on schedule, and if the caterers did their job right, people would be forced out of the house by 4 A.M., so they could lock up, ensuring no more eyes by sunrise.
Cass worked her way through the sea of people. An impromptu dance party had started in her living room and the smell of sweat and alcohol infused the whole house. A moan echoed from the coat closet and Cass paused, tension knotting in her stomach. Thank god the cleaning service would be coming first thing in the morning. As she passed the caped Phantom, he pulled her tightly to his belly, crushing her into a clumsy dance. With a glance at the clock, she shimmied out of his hold. 12:33: She tutted, wagging a finger in his face. “Now, now, Phantom … I’m no one’s puppet tonight. But next time maybe,” she added over her shoulder with a wink and headed toward the basement door. “Next time it snows in hell, maybe,” she muttered to herself as she passed into the kitchen. She had less than thirty minutes to get the stuff packed and out of the house, and the last thing she needed was some fat, old dom forcing her into a sweaty waltz.
With a final self-deprecating joke, she managed to move through the rest of the crowd. After a quick look around, she slid out the back of the kitchen and into the basement, where a bucket of dead fish and a stash of drugs awaited her.
A gag wretched in her throat as she descended the stairs. The stench was overwhelming. Yanking the scarf from her dress, she tied it around her nose and mouth in an effort to block the offensive odor. A lot of good it did, but at least it was something.
She pulled out her change of clothes and ripped off her dress, eye mask, and heels, shoving them into the dryer. She tugged on her jeans and a button-down shirt, shifting the knife into her back pocket with her phone. Snapping on the latex lab gloves, she rushed to the fish. The drugs were already packaged and sealed in small plastic Baggies. One by one, Cass shoved the drugs down the fish gullets and tossed them into the ice-packed c
ooler. Every month brought a different means of transport, and this one was by far the most disgusting. And yet here in Portland? It was also probably the most efficient.
Fifteen minutes to go. And less than twenty fish left in the box. If someone had warned her ten years ago that a member of her family would turn out to be a drug mule, she would have automatically looked straight to Jess with a judgmental glare. She gulped, swallowing an errant tear. It all had started innocently enough, but before she even knew what was happening—before she even knew she had done anything illegal—Cass had been spun into a web with hands and feet bound and a black widow crawling right for her.
Shoving her index finger down the throat of the fish, she tossed it on the top of the pile. One last Baggie of pills sat to her left. And to her right was a handful more of empty fish.
She gulped, grabbing the Baggie and dumping it into the small orange bottle she had stolen from work. Then, peeling the label, she adhered the false prescription to the bottle and taped it to the underside of the washing machine lid. While she normally got him a few months’ worth of pills, this time the one bottle would have to do. Three to four bottles’ worth of drugs would surely raise some flags, but just one bottle? Even she could talk her way out of that.
Stealing a final glance at the clock, her stomach roiled. Five minutes to spare. Cass snapped the gloves off her hands and pulled the scarf from her nose. She tossed the scarf into the dryer and shoved the gloves deep into the cooler with the fish, sweeping a glance around her basement. Was she missing anything? Any damning piece of evidence that would connect her to the drugs? Her prints were on nothing, a precaution she had taken from the very beginning. Other than the labels printed for Dane, which came from her lab, nothing could be connected back to her.
With a final deep breath, she rolled the cooler to the back of the basement, beside the water heater. Sliding her arm behind a stack of boxes and an old bookshelf from her parent’s house, she fumbled for the small hook. Her fingers connected with the rusted metal and yanked, a small, half-door springing open. She crawled into the doorway, tugging the cooler behind her as a creak sounded from the stairway on the other side of the basement. Cass froze, holding her breath. The footsteps stilled as well, and through the crack between the doors, she saw two shiny patent leather loafers circle the basement. They stopped maybe ten feet away, and there was a low, grumbling sigh as the man—whoever he was—turned and clomped back up the stairs. The lights clicked off behind him, but Cass didn’t dare let out a breath even then.
As silently as she could, she dead-bolted the trapdoor and headed into the tunnel.
10
Waves lapped against the shore as Cass exited the tunnel, spilling out onto the rocky beach. Shaking her head, she tugged the cooler behind her. Maybe next time they could have an item that was a teeny bit lighter, she thought with a grunt. The wheels clunked against the wooden steps that led up to the rickety dock above. It would be fucking fabulous if next time they could transport the drugs using feathers.
At the end of the dock, a shadowed man stood, silhouetted by the silver moonlight. He wore a tuxedo, and a slim black mask swept across his eyes. Cass’s throat clamped. Had he been at the party the entire time? Fear crept from her toes up her body like a rising tide, only she couldn’t let it consume her. She had to step away from that fear. Step out of those dark shadows and put on her bravest face. A proverbial mask.
She cleared her throat and the man’s shoulders tightened, barely visible to the naked eye, but she saw it. He must have heard her coming up from the beach below, right?
With a final deep breath, Cass moved toward the man. Normally she would leave the drugs in the tunnel, usually with no one in there to pick them up yet. But every now and then, someone would be waiting in the darkness. She’d heard his gruff voice a handful of times, but it was always too dark to see his face.
The man turned, the mask from the party still covering half his face, and Cass squinted to get a better look.
“Hello again, Cassandra.”
She swallowed, looking around. No one was out near the water at this time of night and it was unnerving. It was weeks beyond tourist season, and even then this wasn’t a widely populated beach. “Hello. Do you always come to the parties?” she asked, impressed by how sturdy her voice sounded.
A flash of white teeth sparkled in the darkness. “I live for those crab puffs.”
The cooler scraped against the wooden planks as she moved in closer. “They’re lobster puffs,” she corrected.
“You can leave it right there,” he said, holding a palm out and stepping closer to her.
It was the closest he had ever gotten to her; if she wanted, she could reach out and touch him. Why the change? Was it that she was finally building a trust with these people? Or was she a dead woman walking?
Cass dropped the handle, nodding. “Do you need anything else?” She studied his face—or what she could see of it behind his mask—searching for any distinguishing marks. A scar, a mole … anything. But he was entirely nondescript. Nothing spectacular stood out, and she wondered if that was why he had been chosen as one of the faces of the operation. He could slink into a crowd, leaving spectators with a general impression of a five-foot-something man with dark hair and dark eyes. No, wait; she looked closer. Hazel eyes? They weren’t quite brown, but not quite green—
“A little birdie told us you’ve been seen with the detective lately.”
Every muscle in Cass’s body tensed. She’d expected this question. They knew. Of course they knew; why else would those pictures of Jess surface only a week after Sam had contacted her? Okay, Cass … deep breath. You can do this. “I have,” she said and nodded. “Though not in the way you think. He’s an old friend. Used to date—” She clamped her jaw shut. The last thing she wanted to do was remind them of her sister. “Used to date someone in my family,” she tried again, but she could feel the tightness in her own words.
“Jessica,” the man sneered. “Yes, we know. So … he was merely checking in? Seeing how you were doing lately?”
Cass nodded, fearing the movement was a little too clenched. She relaxed her neck, switching to a more controlled movement, only it was probably too late. He was trained to see things like that and there was no doubt in her mind that he had picked up on her nervousness. “Yep. He was just checking in.”
“Interesting.” The man looked out to the ocean. “He must still love Jessica a lot to continuously check in on her big sister.”
Oh, shit. No. No, no, no … they can’t think Jess can be leveraged on two fronts. Cass shrugged, keeping the movement as nonchalant as possible. “Maybe. I doubt it, though. Once Sam took her virginity, he dumped her. Was done and moved on.” The lie came out smoothly this time, and Cass thanked the heavens for that. Perhaps they’d believe that and leave Jess and Sam out of it. Doubtful, but worth a try.
The man sighed, turning, pacing as his dress shoes clacked against the dock. “I find it hard to believe that Portland’s brightest rising star detective checking in on you after all these years is purely coincidence. You’ve done your job well enough for the most part. Have you been sloppy? Prints, DNA, hair anywhere?”
Cass’s throat went dry. “No. No, I’ve been careful. They have nothing on me.”
“Except for what you’ve told them,” he purred. And though his voice was soft, it was dangerous. Like the quiet rattle of a snake just before a strike.
The man pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and held it up for Cass to see. A video of Jess, laughing with some guy—a date—flashed on the screen. The guy had blondish hair and a big smile as he lifted a beer to his lips. “Jess?” Cass rasped and looked to the man. “Wh-what’s going on?”
“I just want you to see for yourself how closely we follow your sister. Your only family left, yes?”
Cass nodded. There was no point in lying. They knew everything. “How do I know that’s real? And not hacked from her computer or-or filmed mon
ths ago or something?”
The man lifted an eyebrow, snorting with an eye roll. “Please, Cass. Be my guest … call her.”
Cass hesitated for only a second before scrambling for her phone. He still held the live footage, and Cass’s attention shifted between dialing her sister and watching her on screen. Within seconds, a buzz sounded in the video, cutting through their flirty giggles, and Jess reached into her purse, checking her phone before rolling her eyes and dropping it back into her purse. She drifted her attention back to the date and he linked her hands with his.
A voice mail message rang in Cass’s ears and she felt numb all over. She knew her sister rarely answered her calls, but seeing it in action was an entirely different beast. A tear fell from her eye, dropping down her cheek. They had Jess. They were watching her every moment of every day. The realization of that hit hard, slamming into Cass’s heart. Jess’s voice mail kicked in:
“Hey, you’ve reached Jess. I’m not around to answer my phone, but you know what to do at the beep.”
“Jessie,” Cass whispered into the phone, “you’re in the frame.”
“It’s just my sister,” Jess said from within the video.
“Hang up,” the man whispered as some gulls squawked overhead. He barely spoke the words, the seagulls drowning out the quiet volume.
Cass’s thumb hovered over the end call button. She pretended to touch it, instead keeping the call going, and tucked the phone into her back pocket. Blood rushed around her head and Cass could feel the dizzying effects of a lack of oxygen. She took a deep breath that trembled all the way to her lungs and her hands quivered at her sides. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want.” His gaze twitched to the drugs, then he lifted his eyes back to hers. “I want you to turn around. Go home and continue on as if this didn’t happen. And stay away from the detective.”
Wicked Shots Page 6