Re/Paired

by Michele Zurlo

  He wrapped his hands around her wrists and immobilized them on either side of her head. With his weight pressing her down, she could barely arch her back. She wiggled, testing the limits of this restraint. She was stuck.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of her velvet sheath. Beneath him, the sounds of pleasure grew more desperate with each thrust, and they only fed his passion. Soon he felt the fluttering of her internal muscles, and he increased his pace.

  “Keith, please let me come.”

  “Yes,” he whispered. This wasn’t about denial or control. She’d submitted to him already, and that was all he needed. “Give it to me.”

  And she did. Her entire body trembled and shook, convulsing under him. He held her steady with his hips and arms, keeping her together as she came apart. Her surrender was a sweet balm for his soul, and he followed her over the precipice, grasping at stars as he fell.

  The world spun. Slowly he became aware of her hand smoothing a path through his hair, a comforting and calming caress that made him never want to move. Well, that and he was still buried in her warmth.

  The doorbell rang before he could say anything.

  Beneath him, she heaved a sigh. “They’re early. Move and let me throw on some clothes.”

  In a perfect world, he’d let his sub answer the door and bring the food to him. But it wasn’t a perfect world, and she was in danger. He wasn’t going to let her do it. “No. I’ll go. You stay naked. Grab a towel and sit at the table.”

  She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, Keith.”

  At her resigned tone, he glanced up to gauge her mood. She smiled widely as she ran her hand up her stomach and over one breast. He decided he liked her playfulness. He planted a kiss on the curve of her breast. “I’ll get to those after we eat. You’re going to need energy.”

  Five minutes later, she sat across from him with the contented expression of a woman who had been thoroughly sated. He didn’t doubt her enjoyment, but they’d just fucked rather quickly. She couldn’t possibly be that happy yet.

  He loaded two plates with pizza and set one of them in front of her. “Explain why you want to learn to use a flogger.”

  She looked at the plate and then at the counter where a bag lay next to the pizza box. “I ordered salad. You want some?”

  “Sure.” He sat down and took a huge bite of pizza. She got up and opened the bag. “While you’re doing that, answer my question.”

  “It wasn’t a question, really. More like a demand.” She got down two bowls and heaped them with lettuce, tomatoes, olives, and cucumbers. “But since you demanded to know, I thought I’d learn for you.”

  He blinked. “For me?”

  “Yes. For you.” She set down the salad and a packet of dressing. “It didn’t take me all that long to figure out that you can be a Dominant and also a masochist. And that you’re not really much of a sadist.”

  He narrowed his eyes, not sure where she was going with her accurate assessment.

  The vixen smiled serenely as she stabbed her fork into the lettuce. “You know, after our little talk last Saturday, I noticed that you only do things I like now. Spanking, flogging, nipple clamps. Those kinds of things. If you were truly a sadist and you got off on my pain, you wouldn’t limit yourself to things that make me hotter for you.”

  She was gloating, and he didn’t have a problem with it. Perhaps he’d been selfish in the past, but he found that he truly wanted to engage in sensation play that increased her level of sexual pleasure.

  “You can talk to me, you know. Tell me anything. I won’t get upset or think less of you.” The triumph had fled from her voice. Even her volume was low now. He had no idea what she meant.

  He forced himself to meet her warm brown gaze. She’d bared her soul to him, given him everything. He’d warned her that he wouldn’t give her anything in return, but he’d broken that promise already. He’d given her pieces of himself he thought didn’t exist. Washing the salad down with water bought him a few moments.

  “Okay. I’m a masochist. But I’m also a Dominant. I don’t do submission.”

  She nodded and smiled encouragingly. “I had a long talk with Darcy after Layla and Amy fell asleep. She told me how you painsluts interpret sensation differently from other people. I might like a little sting or a light thud, but you want actual burning pain. You need it to provide a kind of release nothing else can.”

  That sounded about right. He’d gone so long without it, but that didn’t mean he’d stopped yearning for it. Perhaps he’d taken to sadism out of jealousy. He was giving his subs something he really wanted for himself.

  Still, he shook his head. He couldn’t see how to get what he wanted without giving up the control he needed. “You’re not listening to me, Kat.”

  She rose from her place on the other side of the square table and knelt next to him. “If you can order me to suck your cock, why can’t you order me to flog you?”

  The sight of her kneeling with perfect posture and her head bowed in a show of submission was at odds with her audacity. “You kneel at my feet and question my authority. That’s some chance you’re taking, Kitty Kat.” He kept his voice soft, just firm enough to let her know that she was seriously testing his patience.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and she sounded honestly contrite. “I just want to give you what you need so badly, and you’re a very stubborn man.”

  He reached out to touch her hair, and he noticed his hand was trembling. “Fine. You can have what you want. I’ll teach you how to use the implements I prefer. But I’ll warn you now, being flogged doesn’t take me to subspace, and I might end up treating you very roughly afterward.”

  She lifted her face, and he saw that she glowed with pleasure. “I’m okay with that.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Katrina remembered to stop in the lobby to get coffee for Aaron. She’d felt like an ass when she’d checked her messages Saturday evening to find that he’d spent the morning waiting for her in the café where they frequently met on the weekends to get some work done. When she’d told him that she would pick up the coffee “tomorrow morning,” she’d been thinking it was Thursday, not Friday.

  He hadn’t been upset, and when he had come over Sunday, he’d confessed that he was happy to have a reason to get away from his mother’s basement, and he had been able to catch up on one of his cases.

  Her shoulders and arms were sore today. Keith had helped her practice using the flogger he now kept in her hall closet. She’d beaten a throw pillow to death in less than thirty minutes. He had patiently corrected her form, and he had given many pointers about the mechanics of each type of swing.

  Then he’d massaged her shoulders. That had turned into a full-body experience that had left them both sated and exhausted.

  The elevator was out of order, so she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Aaron was already at his desk, mulling over his schedule. She set down the large, steaming-hot cup on his desk.

  “Good morning.”

  He glanced up, frowning at her as if he smelled something bad. Then his expression cleared. He inclined his head toward the coffee, but he didn’t smile. “Thanks. I need that. Alder is breathing down my throat about some evidence that’s gone missing in the Holbrook case. First they kick me off; then they blame this screwup on me.”

  Because he muttered that last part, Katrina wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. Not wanting to push on a sore issue, she said, “You’re welcome. I might have some time this afternoon. Anything I can do to help?”

  He ran his hand through his short blond hair. “Go find the files you said you put away. Those are the ones that are missing. If you can find those, that would help. I have to be in court in half an hour, and I need to meet with a witness first.”

  She reeled from the accusation in his voice. Though she didn’t normally second-guess herself, she wondered if one of the files had fallen out in her trunk or if her mind had been on Keith and not her work. That
could lead to a costly error. She felt bad, but at the same time, she remembered Jordan’s oblique questions from a few weeks ago, and she wondered if this was related.

  She spent her lunch in the file room, combing through the stacks until she found what she needed. Her mind boggled when she realized that Aaron had pulled files from cases related to open investigations. Keith and Malcolm had spent the weekend on the Friedman case, and that had been one of the misplaced files. As she riffled through it, she noticed that some of the pages were missing.

  She was reasonably certain the Friedman file had been about twice as thick when she and Dustin had picked them up from the lobby floor. They’d been bulky when she’d filed them the next morning. With Jordan’s concerns ringing in her ears, she decided to take the files directly to Chief Alder. The chief was busy, so Katrina left a message with Alder’s administrative assistant.

  An hour later, she sat at her desk, phone glued to her ear, pleading with a social services case manager for information about Angelina and Corey Shaw. “I just need information on their well-being. I’m not looking for names or addresses.” Because she wasn’t a caseworker or a family member, she was being completely stonewalled. She needed contacts in CFS.

  The moment she hung up, Chief Alder’s assistant called her into the chief’s office. The chief had started as a trial lawyer and Chief of Appeals at the Oakland County Prosecutor’s Office in Pontiac. Like Katrina, she was an alumnus of the Detroit College of Law. The woman was sharp, and she had high expectations of those working under her.

  She was ushered right into the office, and the door closed behind her. The chief’s office overlooked the bustling traffic on West Congress, but Katrina wasn’t looking out the window. She centered her attention on Chief Alder. If she had to guess, Katrina would place the chief in her late forties. She had a commanding presence and an air of confidence. Her lips were set in a firm line, softened by evidence of laugh lines around her eyes and mouth.

  “Good afternoon, Chief. I know you don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll be brief.”

  Chief Alder held up her hand, halting Katrina before she could begin. “Ms. Legato, you took home confidential files containing key pieces of evidence from open investigations.”

  Cold fear raced through her system. All the files were labeled confidential. They contained legal information. Katrina had clearance for that file room. She had done nothing wrong, but Aaron certainly had. No, that wasn’t entirely true. She should have put the files back immediately. Something didn’t seem right. She wasn’t sure what was going on. Loyalty wouldn’t allow her to desert her friend, but taking a fall like this could ruin her career.

  She opted to draw out the conversation by fishing for more information. “Aaron asked me to help him locate some missing files. I owed him a favor.”

  That answer didn’t seem to defuse the chief’s ire one bit, probably because she hadn’t addressed the chief’s concern. “I asked Mr. Buttermore to do that himself.”

  Katrina had no way of knowing that. “I’m sorry, Chief. He had to be in court, and I had some extra time.”

  “You made time.” Chief Alder folded her hands on her desk. “I’m aware of your caseload, Ms. Legato. You don’t have extra time.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I made time. Aaron helps me out when I need a hand. He’s a good friend.” She felt a little like she was on trial, but she didn’t know the charges.

  “Friend or not, I want you to stop writing his briefs and doing his work. This case”—she tapped a file on her desk—”is one that we’ve invested countless hours building. It’s the culmination of two years of investigation. We can’t be losing evidence or misplacing the logs. Carelessness is intolerable.”

  At least the file on the desk belonged to a case where charges had been filed. “I know, Chief. My brother and his best friend worked on that case. I’d hate to see their hard work destroyed almost as much as I’d hate to see a criminal set free.” Lots of agents had worked that case. Some were still working it.

  The chief sighed. “You haven’t explained why you took those files home.”

  She truly didn’t want to throw Aaron under the bus, but she couldn’t lie for him. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was leaving work, and Aaron handed them to me in the lobby. He thought I’d left them on my desk instead of taking them home. I don’t know how they got on my desk. I put them in my briefcase because I was running late, and I took them home. Agent Brandt was with me. He can corroborate my story.”

  Chief Alder didn’t move a muscle. “I admire your loyalty, Ms. Legato.” After several moments, she shuffled some papers on her desk. Katrina had the feeling things were being left unsaid. She didn’t know what she was missing.

  Then the chief cleared her throat. “Due to an unexpected medical leave, there is an opening for a second chair on the Holbrook case. I want you working with me. This is your chance to show me what you’re made of.”

  The world froze. Chances like this didn’t come around very often. Many people in the office had more experience than she did. Sitting next to a prosecutor as talented as Elizabeth Alder could teach her more in one day than she could learn in the office in a year.

  This was the chance Aaron had wanted. Anyone with ambition wanted it, and the chief had offered it to Katrina. Though she felt disloyal, she knew she couldn’t turn down the chief. It hadn’t been an offer as much as an order.

  “Thank you, Chief Alder. I won’t let you down.”

  In lieu of an answer, the woman smiled in dismissal. As Katrina turned to leave, the chief spoke. “You’ll get further with a social worker if you meet with them in person.”

  It seemed Chief Alder knew more about Katrina’s business than she assumed, which was a little creepy. “Thank you, Chief. I’ll do that.”

  She called Keith to let him know she would be out in the field and she’d meet him at his place for dinner. He didn’t sound too happy about the change in plans, but last week had set an unrealistic precedent. He worked irregular hours, and she sometimes needed to work late.

  Through sheer tenacity, she got in to see the social worker assigned to the Shaw children. The woman had strands of iron gray streaked through her coarse black hair. Her office was small, and her round frame took up most of the room. A half-filled cup of coffee sat at her elbow, and her desk was covered with papers. The nameplate on the door had fallen off, revealing the tarnished brass behind it.

  “Mrs. Daley? I’m Katrina Legato. I’m an assistant prosecutor with the US Attorney General’s office. Can I have a moment of your time?”

  The woman eyed her with a steely look that said she’d seen it all. “If I tell you those kids are fine, will you go away?”

  Katrina moved aside a stack of files and sat in the chair she’d uncovered. “No, I won’t. I’m sure my situation is unusual.” She ignored Mrs. Daley’s roll of the eyes. “The children belong to my friend’s sister. He’s estranged from the family. I don’t think he even knows he has a niece and a nephew. I wanted to get all the information I could before I said anything to him.”

  Her eyes narrowed even more. “Estranged? I’m curious as to what it takes to become estranged from Mrs. Shaw.”

  Katrina guessed that Savannah was in the habit of using people, including her kids, to get what she wanted. “Well, Keith refused to associate with his parents and sisters unless they quit drinking. They wouldn’t quit, so he moved on with his life. He’s with the FBI now, and he’s doing well. I don’t want to rock the boat if I don’t have to.”

  Mrs. Daley sighed. “And what is it you think you can do?”

  “I don’t know.” She hadn’t thought beyond passing the information to Keith. “I just want to make sure they’re taken care of, I guess.”

  The woman lifted a brow. “Is your boyfriend interested in taking the kids? The state does prefer to place children with relatives when possible. The family they’re with now only handles short-term placements. They’re not interested in adoption.”

  K
atrina hadn’t seriously considered that possibility. She wasn’t against kids, but she didn’t see them occupying a prominent position in her life anytime soon. And Keith had been vehemently against having children of his own. “But they’re young enough that somebody will adopt them, right?”

  Mrs. Daley shook her head. “The baby, Corey, maybe. He’s a cute little boy, with those golden curls and those green eyes. Good-natured too. But the three-year-old girl, Angelina, is a tougher case. She’s biracial, and the mother has no clue which races those might be, and she’s prone to temper tantrums. I’m not talking the regular kind, either. She can go for hours, and she can get pretty violent. I think she has some special needs, but I’m not sure what they are. Most people don’t want to adopt outside their race, and they don’t want special-needs kids. I’d prefer to keep them together if I can.”

  Katrina’s heart jumped to her throat to hear that dire pronouncement. Just knowing what Savannah had done to her younger brother made her sick. But for the first time, she considered the fact that the woman hadn’t treated her own kids much better.

  “Can Keith meet them? I mean, if he wants to. I can’t speak for him.”

  The social worker crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “If he’s a relative, he can petition for visiting rights. You know where friend of the court is located.”

  Katrina picked up on the woman’s changed attitude. “Did I say something to offend you?”

  Mrs. Daley pursed her lips. “It’s always the same story. Maybe you can’t have kids and you’re thinking you can raise these ones, but then you find out it’s not all sunshine and roses. These kids have been through a lot in their short lives. I thought maybe you were the kind of person who cared about that, but now I’m not so sure.”

  She had no right to judge Katrina so harshly. She barely knew Katrina at all, though Katrina didn’t feel the need to point that out. It was the perfect opening to end the conversation and kick Katrina out.