by Radclyffe
“Oh, poor Mitch.” Jasmine laughed. “You’re going to run him ragged.”
“He does not wear out easily.” Irina whispered in Mitch’s ear, “We should go before he calls someone.”
“I guess that’s my cue to get started,” Mitch said with a grin. “We’ll catch you all another night.”
When the Kings called good night, Mitch noticed that Phil didn’t look up from the table.
“What about this guy Olik?” Mitch asked Irina as they headed for the door. “How do we get to him?”
She flicked a long, dark strand of hair away from her face. “He will come for me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rebecca slipped into bed just before dawn. When Catherine turned toward her, she said, “You don’t need to wake up just yet.”
“Mmm.” Catherine ran her hands up and down Rebecca’s back. “You’re warm. Feels nice.” She burrowed into Rebecca’s neck. “Smells nice.”
Rebecca chuckled. “I took a shower in the guest room. I was trying not to wake you up.”
Catherine slipped a firm thigh between Rebecca’s. “I thought you promised you would.”
Rebecca sucked in a breath. The silky glide of Catherine’s flesh between her legs teased her into full arousal in seconds. “I didn’t think I’d be so late.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” Rebecca couldn’t manage more than short sentences as Catherine rocked her leg steadily, insistently, into her. “Stayed to watch Mitch. All quiet.”
“You’re making my leg wet,” Catherine whispered. “So hot, so slick.”
Rebecca groaned. Her vision grew dark at the edges as she stroked her hand along the curve of Catherine’s hip, to the dip at her waist, and up to cradle the full oval of her breast. She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the tight ball of Catherine’s nipple. Catherine surged in her arms, her thigh driving high between Rebecca’s legs—opening her, cleaving her. Rebecca arched her hips and thrust, tormenting her already tortured clitoris, forcing it back and forth over Catherine’s leg. Her mouth was on Catherine’s, and she matched the pulsations between her legs with deep, probing sweeps of her tongue. When Catherine gripped her hips to increase the force of her thrusting thigh, Rebecca broke away, panting for breath.
“You’re going to make me come,” she warned.
“That’s right. I love it when you come,” Catherine said fervently. “I love to feel you shatter in my arms, so beautiful.” I love it when you need me, she didn’t say. I love to protect you. “Oh God, touch me. I can’t stand it. I’ve needed to come for hours.”
Rebecca pushed her hand between their bodies and cupped Catherine’s sex, her fingers sliding up and down the smooth, hot valley, her thumb sweeping back and forth across the rigid clitoris. Catherine jerked in her arms, and Rebecca felt her control unravel. She concentrated, bearing down with her thumb.
“Oh, darling,” Catherine murmured, burying her face in Rebecca’s neck. “So good. You’re so good. Stay on it, darling, stay—oh God, just like that.”
“Catherine,” Rebecca moaned, her clitoris threatening to release. The pressure was agonizing, her mind incapable of thought. Her hips pumped, and the burning spread outward from the apex of her thighs. “It’s coming. I can’t…oh, fuck, here I come.”
“Don’t stop, I’m close,” Catherine gasped, her teeth setting into the muscle stretched taut along Rebecca’s neck. “I’m so so clo…oh!”
Catherine’s cry ignited Rebecca, and she shuddered as heat raced through her. She fired fast, peaked hard, and came down quickly, but Catherine kept pulsing in her hand, undulating waves of pleasure filling her palm.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Catherine whimpered breathlessly.
Rebecca massaged her until the last spasms quieted, then wrapped her tightly in her arms. “I love you.”
“Oh, I love you.” Catherine rested her face against Rebecca’s chest. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” Rebecca promised, her heart twisting. She knew Catherine would never have asked if all her defenses hadn’t just been shattered, and she might not even remember it later. But Rebecca would not forget the helpless plea in her voice. She kissed her, slowly, as she stroked her hair and her back, calming her. “I won’t.”
Catherine smoothed trembling fingers lightly over Rebecca’s mouth, as if to stop her from making promises impossible to keep. “Hold me. Just hold me.”
Rebecca could give her that, and she did.
*
“Hey,” Michael whispered, resting both hands on Sloan’s shoulders. “Any chance I could talk you into coming to bed? It’s late, and you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Sloan tilted her head back against Michael’s midsection and closed her eyes. When Michael’s fingers threaded through her hair and massaged her scalp, she groaned.
Laughing softly, Michael leaned down and kissed the angle of her jaw. Circling her fingertips over Sloan’s temples, she said, “You’re tired, darling. And this case is just getting started.”
“Someone’s trying to crack my system,” Sloan murmured, her eyes still closed. “But they’re playing games.”
“What does that mean?” Michael asked with a frown.
“They’re not really trying to hide what they’re doing. They’re letting me see them, like a game of hide and seek.” Sloan grasped Michael’s hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Or chess.”
“Really? Why would a hacker do that?”
Sloan shook her head. “Arrogance. Boredom. Maybe he hasn’t had anyone at his level to compete with. Because he’s good. Very good. I can’t find his trail.” She took a deep breath and let it out with a frustrated sigh. “He knows how to bait the hook.”
“Playing with you.” Michael caressed Sloan’s neck, then slid a hand under the top of her T-shirt and rubbed her chest. “Not very smart.”
Sloan arched in the chair, her hand drifting away from the keyboard for the first time in hours. “Michael. You’re cheating.”
“I never cheat,” Michael whispered softly in her ear. “I just play to win. Are you coming to bed?” She caught her breath as Sloan’s eyes opened and sought hers, unguarded arousal shimmering through the blue depths. “God, darling. Say yes.”
Sloan stood, shoved the desk chair away with her foot, and caught Michael against her chest. She kissed her, filling her hands with Michael’s hair and her senses with Michael’s scent. “Yes. Definitely, yes.”
*
Sandy sat up, instantly alert, at the quiet snick of the door lock catching. Dell looked even paler than usual in the gray early-morning light, her eyes shadowed and wary. The bedside clock said 6:30 a.m. She’d been out all night. With Irina. Dell stood statue still as if awaiting judgment until Sandy flicked back the sheet, indicating the bed beside her.
Wordlessly, Dell stripped, then climbed into bed and lay on her back.
“Are you all right?” Sandy asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did something happen?”
“Not really.”
“How come you’re so late?”
Dell sighed. She’d wanted to come earlier, but she didn’t want to leave Irina until she was certain no one had followed them. She couldn’t leave her unprotected.
“Sorry.”
“I didn’t ask you to be sorry.” Sandy rolled onto her side and put her hand on Dell’s stomach. The muscles were hard as wood. Dell’s stomach felt that way when she was getting ready to come, or when she was really upset. Sandy rubbed up and down, slow steady sweeps, and Dell shivered. “You’re really wired, baby.”
“Things got a little tense for a few minutes. They sent muscle to collect Irina.”
“Did they take her?”
“No,” Dell said hoarsely.
“Did things get physical?”
“Almost.”
Sandy sucked in a breath. What Dell was doing was dangerous. Dell knew it, and she knew it. Telling her to be careful wouldn’t do any good. Ask
ing her not to do what she needed to do wasn’t an option. She shifted on top of Dell and wiggled her hips between Dell’s legs, forcing her to open. As soon as Dell parted her thighs, Sandy pushed her way down on the bed and pressed her cheek in the delta at the base of Dell’s belly. Dell’s clitoris was erect, a firm bulge against her face. She shifted and brushed her lips over it.
Dell dragged in a shaky breath.
“I’m going to take care of this so you can sleep,” Sandy whispered, her lips moving over the distended shaft. “You want?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Will you come for me, baby?”
“Will you do me really slow?” Dell’s voice broke. “So I can feel everything?”
“As slow as you want, for as long as you need.” Sandy dropped feather-light kisses over Dell’s clitoris, her inner lips, the insides of her thighs. She teased under the hood with just the tip of her tongue, sweeping round and round, until Dell’s hips bucked and twisted. She licked, she sucked, she stroked the flat of her tongue the length of Dell’s sex. When Dell’s legs trembled, Sandy held her down, closing her hands over Dell’s lean, taut thighs. When Dell gasped for breath, Sandy stilled, keeping her just on the edge of exploding, knowing the buildup would make the release all the sweeter. She knew what Dell needed. She needed to go beyond thought, beyond fear, beyond uncertainty. She needed to drown in pleasure, to be held in safety.
“Sandy,” Dell groaned.
“You need to come now, baby?” Sandy crooned, sliding first one finger, then two, inside. With her other hand she pressed on the base of Dell’s stomach, forcing her clitoris to stand up straight. “Want to come in my mouth?”
“Please.” Dell’s voice was unsteady and low.
Sandy pulled on Dell’s length with long strokes of her pursed lips. She kept it up, stroke after stroke, as Dell arched and mumbled incoherent pleas, then looked up to see Dell propped on her elbows, staring down at her with a dazed, delirious expression. She felt Dell’s clitoris expand, saw her face twist in an agony of pleasure, and curled her fingers forward to massage the spot that made Dell’s clitoris leap between her lips.
“Uh.” Dell jerked. Once. Twice. Then her arms gave way and she fell back with a cry, writhing as her muscles tightened and convulsed. “Keep sucking. Just suck. Jesus!”
Sandy lost count of how many times she coaxed Dell’s clitoris to stiffen and explode, but she kept working it until Dell whimpered for her to stop. She was so high on the power she couldn’t. She wanted to make Dell come again. She wanted Dell to be hers, and only hers, forever. She teased the swollen head with her tongue and Dell twisted away.
“Babe, please,” Dell whispered weakly. “Hold me. San?”
“I’m here, baby,” Sandy said instantly, clambering up to pull Dell into her arms. Dell was nearly twice her size, but it didn’t matter. Right now, she felt like a giant. She tightened her grip on Dell’s shoulders and rocked her. “I love you, baby.”
“I need you, San.”
“Shh.” Sandy kissed Dell’s sweaty brow and stroked her face. “You go to sleep now, baby.”
“Play with your clit,” Dell murmured, cradled in Sandy’s arms. “Know you need to.”
“I’m okay, baby.”
Dell nuzzled Sandy’s breast and drew her nipple into her mouth. When she bit down, Sandy felt as if she’d been electrocuted. Her legs jerked and her clit twitched like crazy. She reached for it, moaning when she discovered how wet and hard she was. She hadn’t been aware of her own excitement until then. All she’d known was Dell. Fingers squeezing, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the top of Dell’s head.
“Good?” Dell muttered.
“Uh-huh,” Sandy whispered, twisting and tugging her aching clit. A huge balloon filled her insides until she couldn’t breathe. She squeezed and pulled until the balloon burst open and she was coming. “God, baby. God!”
Dell sighed with pleasure and relaxed in her arms. Sandy stroked her until she heard her breathing slow and knew she was falling asleep. She knew that if anyone came through that door wanting to hurt Dell, she would kill them. She only wished she could always be there to protect her.
Chapter Seventeen
Kratos folded the Wall Street Journal and set it aside as his driver pulled the Town Car to a stop in a parking lot in the shadows of the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. A blustery wind was coming off the Delaware River, but he did not button his topcoat when his bodyguard opened the door. Bareheaded, he stepped out and approached a black Mercedes SUV with darkened windows, his bodyguard and Vincent on either side of him. The two Russians standing next to the vehicle watched him, their broad, heavy features expressionless. He stopped a few yards away and waited. The rear door opened and a thin, blond man in a cashmere coat similar to his own stepped out.
“Stay here,” Kratos said to his companions.
“Boss,” Vincent muttered, clearly unhappy.
“I shouldn’t be too long.”
Kratos walked to the edge of the pier, ignoring the two Russian bodyguards, deliberately giving them his back as if they were of no consequence to him at all. He wanted to reinforce that they were on his turf, where he held the power, and that he did not fear them. Mind games. The kind he loved.
A few seconds later, the Russian boss stepped up beside him.
Kratos did not turn his head to acknowledge the other man. “Winter is coming,” he said, staring out at the muddy river.
“Good,” the Russian said. “Cold weather is good for business. Men want to be inside with a warm woman.”
Kratos laughed briefly. “Are you going to be able to supply what we need?”
“There are always girls.”
“Yes, but not ones as beautiful and easy to manage as yours.” Kratos disliked discussing the specifics of business with anyone because the only thing he was certain of was that no one could be trusted. Still, a discussion outdoors in the wind in an open parking lot was as safe as any could be, unless the Russian was wired. To counter the possibility, Vincent carried a radio frequency jammer in his pocket that would distort audio transmissions enough to make the recording inadmissible in court. “I understand that you have lost a substantial amount of your inventory.”
The Russian shrugged. “When your authorities lose interest in us, I will bring more. Until then, the American product will do.”
“My clients are used to quality,” Kratos said.
He provided women to some of the most powerful men in the state, in several states, and they expected beauty, compliance, and skill. They also expected anonymity. He couldn’t send common prostitutes or even high-class escorts who might recognize the men or who might be under surveillance themselves. The only reason he had allowed the Russians to move in on a corner of his prostitution business was because they could provide him with young, attractive, healthy girls who were no threat to his high-powered clients. The Russian girls wouldn’t recognize the men, and even if they did, they didn’t speak enough English to be able to betray anyone. Many of his clients preferred the young Russians for another reason, even if their expertise was sometimes lacking. For these men, power was more erotic than flesh, and the combination of fear and innocence was more appealing in a woman than a talented mouth.
“Do not concern yourself,” the Russian boss said. “Your clients will have everything they want.” He looked at Kratos for the first time. “How is it that your police interfere with my business, but not yours?”
Kratos shook his head. “I am sorry for your misfortune. I’ll do what I can to interest them elsewhere.” He didn’t add for a price, but it was understood. If he used his influence to divert the investigation, the Russian would be in his debt. It was also understood that when he called in the debt, he would collect many-fold. He waited.
The Russian nodded. “I would be grateful.”
“Think nothing of it, my friend.” Satisfied, Kratos turned to go.
“I will need another house. Two would be better.”
“Someone will call you with the addresses,” Kratos said without looking back. He nodded to Vincent, who stepped behind him to protect his back until he slid inside the car once more. As they moved off, he called Talia. With his supply lines secured, he could accelerate his plans to disrupt the investigation.
*
“You know, we could just skip this thing,” Sloan said, wiping water from her eyes and groping at a nearby counter.
“Looking for this?” Michael teased, holding up a large white terry-cloth towel. She wore a pale blue silk robe tied at the waist.
At the sight of her breasts moving gently beneath the thin material, Sloan cared even less about the benefit they were supposed to attend. She was also tired. And frustrated. After being lured to bed the night before, she’d actually fallen asleep for a few hours, then worked all day trying to discover who was attempting to breach her system. She’d made little progress tracing the source of the cyberattacks and was increasingly worried that Michael would be drawn into danger because of the new investigation.
“Couldn’t you find anything to wear?” she asked. Michael had been choosing a dress for the benefit when Sloan got home.
“I got distracted.” At Sloan’s look of confusion, Michael laughed. In slow, succinct bites, she explained, “You. Naked. Taking a shower.”
“Sorry.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
Sloan heard the words, but it was the invitation in Michael’s voice that held her attention. “How are you feeling?”
“Wonderful.” Michael hooked a finger around the top of the towel and pulled it loose. When it dropped to the floor, she wrapped her arms around Sloan’s neck and kissed her, moving from her mouth over her jaw, and then down her neck.
“I’m going to get you all wet,” Sloan murmured.
“Done,” Michael whispered. She licked a bead of water from the hollow at the base of Sloan’s throat as she caressed the muscles in Sloan’s shoulders and back. “You snuck out of bed this morning before I had a chance to say good morning.”