by Taylor Lee
Sapphire’s only acknowledgement of her nipples’ betrayal of her studied nonchalance was a minute flush of crimson on her cheeks that disappeared as quickly as it came. Continuing her languorous movements, she undid the clasp on her pencil skirt and tugged on the zipper. She held the skirt in place for a brief moment, then slid it over her slim hips guiding it to the floor. Standing in front of him in her bra and the merest scrap of lace covering her mons, Jase’s detachment was severely challenged at the sight of her sensational legs, a dancer’s legs. His breath hitched at the sight of her thigh-high, lace topped stockings that, in combination with her four-inch high-heeled strappy sandals, made her long, toned legs even more spectacular. Determined to keep his untoward response to her beautiful body somewhat controlled he raised his hand in a casual twirling motion indicating that she should turn around and show him her backside.
If she was embarrassed or angered by his silent command, Sapphire kept her expression impassive. If anything she openly taunted him, underscoring her slow sensuous rotation, with a saucy upturn of one, then the other of her shapely hips. Turning back to face him she met his eyes with her chin held high. Jase sipped on his champagne and then motioned to her underwear. Keeping his tone even, he said simply, “Off.” He waited a brief moment to judge her reaction, and then softened his order. Waving a hand at her “fuck me” shoes, Jase added with a slight smile, “You can leave the shoes on.”
Sapphire sucked in a long, slow breath as quietly as she could. No matter what Jase did, she refused to let him see how rattled she was. If was bad enough that she was wearing these damn high heels. Her shaky legs just made the stilt-like stilettos more treacherous. Of course he would insist that she leave them on. Men! God, they were so transparent. What was it about “hooker heels” that turned them on as much as they did? Yes, they made her legs look even longer, even more toned. But Sapphire believed there was something more compelling about the precarious shoes that fascinated men. It was the way that they essentially contained a woman. Kept her in her place. After all, who the hell could run fast, or even keep up with, a long-legged man when wearing heels that made quick movements challenging.
She chided herself. Enough contemplation of the sociology of high heels and why men loved them. She knew what Jase was doing. She even understood why. They were heading into a dangerous mission. He had to know that he could trust her. That she would follow orders, not question his commands. So what did the fucker do to test her? He ordered her to strip for him, down to nothing. Nothing except these damnable shoes. At first it took everything she had to obey him. Sapphire wanted to storm out of the boutique and tell him, and that haughty bitch who was laughing at her behind her back, to go to hell. But her competitive spirit kicked in. She decided that if he thought that removing her clothes in front of him—at his command, no less—would embarrass her, that she wouldn’t do it, he could think again.
If it was a striptease he wanted, fine. She knew how to entice a man with her body. Hell, she was an expert at it. There was only one problem, and it was a big one. Whenever she had used her body in the past to provoke a mark, to excite him as part of an operation, she herself hadn’t been affected. She could always rely on making her moves and actions as provocative as possible but never feeling the slightest twinge of sexual interest herself. Where, in her past, she’d been contained, unmoved, to her dismay, with Jase she was anything but. Looking at the casual, commanding, emerald-eyed stud who was now lounging in his chair took everything she had not to give into the rampant sensations that were surging through her body.
Seeing the tell-tale bulge tenting his trousers didn’t help. If anything, knowing that he was aroused only heightened her arousal. Without looking down she knew that her nipples were erect, hard, pointed. God, they had to be the way that they were aching for his touch. It was all she could do to keep from stroking them, tugging on the throbbing points to ease the passion swamping her. The gleam in his eyes as he studied the virtually transparent silk of her push up bra confirmed that her arousal was as apparent to him as it was to her. While she couldn’t hide her breasts, she had hoped that somehow she could hide the fact that she was wet. She’d prayed that the ridiculous scrap of silk that was her thong could hide the dew that she knew was coating her intimate folds. His knowing glance at the apex of her thighs shot that theory to hell and back.
Knowing that her only recourse was to obey his arrogant command, she decided to take off her underwear in a way that challenged his control as much as he was challenging hers. Tipping up her chin, Sapphire held his gaze and allowed a small smile to touch her lips. She took several steps toward him, undulating her hips slowly from side to side. The slight tightening of his jaw at her provocative move reassured her. Damn right. Two could play this game. If he thought she was the only one that would be affected by this incendiary tryst he was crazy.
She reached up behind her and slowly unhooked her bra. Making a production of sliding one strap and then the other off of her shoulders, she arched her back, raising her breasts higher then let the gauzy fabric steal across the full mounds and flutter to the floor. The involuntary twitch at the corner of his eye was her reward. Emboldened by his obvious reaction, she slid her hands under the string-like band on her thong. Hesitating for a moment, she bit down on her lip as if deciding whether she would give in and take off the tiny covering. Sliding the satin over her hips, she revealed her bare skin. The flush that stole unbidden across his face confirmed that he was aroused by her bare pussy—and inspired her next move.
Casually stepping out of the panties, one shoe clad foot and then the other, she reached down and held the satiny fabric for a moment then tipped up her chin and tossed it to Jase. His eyes widened as he caught the miniscule prize. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes gleaming with lust, then held the moist fabric to his nose and breathed in a deep audible breath. His lips tipped up in a tight smile as he tucked the sexy strip into his shirt pocket. His audacious response to her cheeky move sent a shower of electrical sparks coursing across her sex. It took every bit of restraint she had not to moan aloud. As it was, she knew her face was as flushed as her intimate lips likely were. She could only hope that Jase’s visible swallow confirmed that he was as aroused as she was.
For the next hour Sapphire tried on the bits of clothing that Georgette and her efficient minions brought to her. If the outfits the mannequins were wearing had seemed provocative, they were burka- like compared to the ones Jase selected for her. Any questions she had about Jase’s expertise were erased when she saw what the clothes he designated did to her body. What looked like shapeless scraps of fabric became erotic, and even tasteful, works of art on her lush body. She gave up trying to act uninterested as she tried on one after another of the ensembles he chose. Instead, she gave into the pleasure of seeing beautiful, exotic clothes come to life on her body.
It also didn’t hurt to see the appreciation flare on Jase’s face or the lust that gleamed in his eyes as she donned each of the outfits he’d chosen and turned to show him the results. Whereas moments before she’d been embarrassed, even horrified, by her erect nipples and the obvious moisture between her legs, seeing Jase studying her body openly and knowingly, Sapphire gave into the fiery electric sparks streaking across her nearly naked body. It was as though a heavy curtain had been lifted, revealing the rampant sexuality that she kept buried deep below the surface. She’d spent years protecting her body and her spirit from the throngs of men who would gladly have partaken of her wares. But something about Jase’s arrogant perusal, and the obvious erection he no longer tried to hide, smashed through her reserves.
She was overwhelmed by the desire to provoke him, tease him, and, if possible, arouse him further. Unbidden, she began to saunter across the raised stage. No longer self-conscious about being vividly on display not only for Jase, but also for Georgette and her cowed underlings, Sapphire began to enjoy her celebrity. She consciously let loose the minx that existed below her carefully maintai
ned façade. Instead of being horrified when the bosom of a particular outfit showcased her breasts, she reached inside the garment and repositioned the lush globes so that her erect nipples were even more visible. Rather than letting a tiny skirt settle discreetly over her hips, she made a point of bending over and ensuring that her wide-eyed audience had a glimpse of her curvy ass before slowly pulling the skirt down to cover it. When Jase instructed her, with an imperious flick of his wrist, to turn in a circle, she did so slowly, shifting her hips tauntingly from side to side. Jase’s groan when she bent over, and his strained chuckle at her stimulating antics, encouraged her to be even more daring. The only problem was that as she upped the sensual ante, she was as turned on by her saucily seductive moves as Jase was.
In preparation for the evening ahead, Jase studied the rack of provocative clothing he’d selected. After a thoughtful moment he chose a relatively understated, low cut, silvery white sheathe that landed just below her knees. As was true of everything Sapphire had put on, the dress came to shimmery life as it skimmed over her body. She tried not to show her horror when Georgette handed her a lacy bra and matching panties, but Jase shook his head no. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he confirmed that the skintight dress would be the sum total of the clothing that she would wear tonight. Except, of course, for the strappy silver sandals that she’d worn throughout her provocative fashion show.
Now as he guided her through club and headed toward the stairway to the lower level that housed Roberto Ventrilo’s private lair, Jase tugged her closer to him. Bending over he brushed his lips against her ear eliciting a shiver that Sapphire couldn’t hide. Murmuring softly, he ignored her surprised yelp, when he pinched her curvy bottom.
“Just so you know, Agent Shaw, your naughty antics at the Finery did not go unnoticed. By me or my cock. We both will show you later what happens to a saucy little minx who thinks she can taunt the tiger without repercussions.”
Sapphire couldn’t fight the blistering sensations that surged between her legs in response to his elicit threat that had excited her as much as it appalled her.
Chapter 15
Walking down the curving staircase to Roberto Ventrilo’s private sanctuary, Sapphire felt a chill snake up her spine. Her involuntary shudder raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She respected the reflexive warning signaling that danger was near. She wasn’t surprised when Jase tightened his grip on her arm. Over the years working with men and women on hazardous missions, she’d learned that she wasn’t the only operative whose body picked up peril at an instinctive level. Meeting Jase’s gaze, she appreciated his comforting smile but didn’t miss the fact that the smile didn’t reach his hard emerald eyes.
At the bottom of the staircase, Jase pointed to heavy double doors on their left. Nodding to the burly men on either side of the doors, Jase murmured, “That is the ‘play room’ as it is appropriately called. I’ll take you there sometime. It’s definitely worth the price of admission if you appreciate watching public sex of every known variety. Although they don’t allow animals...at least not yet. ” He added with a wry chuckle, “I don’t know about you but I can only handle so many pale wrinkled white men who apparently haven’t looked in the mirror lately or they would have chosen to keep their clothes on.” His grin widened and he winked at her. “On the other hand, in my humble, chauvinistic opinion, the women with them should never wear clothes.”
Clasping her elbow, Jase turned to the right and led her down a long hallway. Sapphire noted that there were several evenly spaced doors lining the hall, indicating a series of private rooms. Knowing that the Caligula was known for its kink and outright BDSM, the private rooms weren’t a surprise. In his briefing Jase had confirmed that for a hefty annual fee, that reached into the high six figures, a man could have a chamber dedicated to his private use. For lesser, but still exorbitant amounts of money, the rooms were available for monthly, weekly or even nightly use.
Music drifted from behind some of the doors. Sapphire noted, with an amused sniff, that the chamber music that had made the open room upstairs seem almost sophisticated was noticeably absent. Instead she heard everything from Nelly’s Hot in Herre to Ginuwine’s Pony and Ludacris’s Fantasy. Sapphire snorted. Someone was even playing Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game, that, compared to the others, sounded like a nursery rhyme. Regardless of the choice of artist, all of the music had a driving rhythm and sexually amped beat that left nothing to the imagination as to the activity behind the locked doors. Sapphire grimaced, hearing sounds other than down and dirty music. Several screams brought her to a halt as did the giveaway crack of a whip followed by what sounded to Sapphire like cries of genuine pain.
She turned to Jase frowning and started to speak.
Before she could tell him that they needed to check it out, Jase pressed a finger against her lips and shook his head. Murmuring softly, he said, “Uh uh, Warrior Woman. These walls have ears and eyes. Remember, it’s taken me six months to establish my cover here. To prove that I’m one of them. Let me assure you it’s also taken a stronger stomach than I ever expected to need outside of a prisoner of war camp in the heart of Africa.”
The unease racking her body and tightening her breath increased when Jase stopped in front of another set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Sapphire didn’t have to ask whose room it was. The four steely eyed men, two on either side of the entrance, confirmed that she and Jase had reached the throne room. Sapphire counted a minimum of three weapons per guard, and those were only the ones visible to her practiced gaze. She was confident that at least a knife, and probably a razor or two, were secreted in places even her trained eyes didn’t pick up on.
Jase stopped in front of the doorway and motioned to one of the guards.
“Please inform Mr. Ventrilo that I’ve arrived.”
The largest of the muscle bound men glared at Jase and then said caustically, “He already knows you are here, Mr. Malone. You ought to know by now that no one makes it this far down the hallway unless he’s permitted it.”
Jase smiled. “Yes, I do know that, Manuel, which is why I’m surprised that you still haven’t opened the goddamned door.”
Purplish splotches sprang up on the burly man’s face at the rebuke. As he met Jase’s hard glare, his open hostility morphed into exaggerated politeness underscored by a sneer.
“We will, Sir, as soon as we’ve confirmed that Mr. Ventrilo gave permission to admit your pus—”
His ugly slur died in his throat when Jase stepped forward. His jaw was rigid. Palpable anger rolled off of him in waves. Grabbing the unlucky man’s shoulder he dug his thumb into the sensitive trigger point at the base of Manuel’s neck. Ignoring Manuel’s agonized shriek, Jase’s soft voice vibrated with danger.
“Before you open the door to escort us into Mr. Ventrilo’s chambers, Manuel, please apologize to my guest. You and I will meet later to ensure that you have learned the proper way to address a woman. Clearly a refresher course is in order.”
Manuel’s face was a sickly gray. Beads of sweat gleamed on his forehead and thick upper lip. Ducking his head, he tried to free himself from Jase’s excruciating grip. His swagger noticeably absent, he appealed to Sapphire, his voice was raspy with pain.
“Look…Miss, I…didn’t mean anything. I would never insult one of Mr. Malone’s women. I ain’t crazy.”
Manuel screamed when Jase tightened the pressure on the trigger point.
“I didn’t ask for an excuse, Manuel. For the last time. Apologize.”
Unable to free himself from Jase’s tortuous hold, Manuel bleated, “I’m…I’m sorry, Miss.”
Sapphire gave a disdainful shrug.
“I accept your apology, Manuel.” Turning to Jase, she tossed her head. “Let him go, Jase.”
Jase nodded and bowed slightly to Sapphire.
“But of course, my dear. I believe Manuel and his cohorts now understand the importance of properly addressing a lady.”
He turned back to the
teary eyed man who was rubbing his neck and blubbering. He said crisply, “Now, Manuel. The door.”
If she had any doubts about what to expect when she walked into Roberto Ventrilo’s private lair, her expectations were confirmed.
If leather was your thing, and it was clearly Roberto’s, the room was luxurious to a fault. Overstuffed, gleaming leather arm chairs, and a massive curved sofa with raised foot lifts at either end centered the room. Mirrors covered three of the four walls. Sapphire did her best to ignore the various angles of her reflection to concentrate on the rest of stunning chamber. A long bar topped with dozens of bottle of liquor spoke to at least one of the passions of the owner. The occasional tables sprinkled round the room covered with drug paraphernalia spoke to another. There was a goodly supply of coke on several of the tables, along with pills of every size and color.
A cadre of swarthy men, not bothering to hide their rigs holding a plethora of weapons, glanced up when she and Jase entered. None of them rose, or in any way verbally acknowledged Jase. While words weren’t spoken, Sapphire didn’t miss the increased tension in the room at their entrance. More interesting than the burly guards, a couple of whom Sapphire bet were part of Ian’s team, were the women in various stages of undress lounging throughout the room. Several were hunched over the drug laden tables, their glassy-eyed gazes and languorous postures confirmed that the mountains of blow were not going to waste. Each of the guards had a woman on his lap or one kneeling at his feet—or both. To a woman, even those who were stoned, gorgeous was the only way to describe them.