Deadly Desire

by Audrey Alexander

  “Yes,” I whispered as his fingers began to move faster. Through my panties and my hose, my pussy ached. I needed him to rip off my clothes and and feel his hands on my skin or I might explode into a quivering mess before him.

  “Turn around,” he said, pulling his hand away.

  My chest heaving, I stared down at him. A sharp glint in his eyes sent thrills through me, and I did what he said, turning so that my ass was in his face. As soon as I did, he pushed up my skirt and spanked me hard. Pain flickered through my skin, but I gasped out a cry of pleasure at the sensation.

  His hands ran up my body as he stood, drifting from my ass to my waist to my breasts. He reached underneath my blouse and tickled my nipples. Dropping my head back, I moaned as they hardened under his touch. I started to turn, but he gripped my arms and pushed me against the floor-to-ceiling window just behind his desk.

  My breath whooshed from my throat as my cheek pressed against the cool glass. All of Manhattan spread out below me, and a dizziness began to blur my vision. Pierce’s hard body leaned against my back, and his teeth nibbled at my earlobe. A shower of shivers fell across my skin, and I shuddered, fear and desire pounding through me.

  His hands disappeared from my arms, and my body yearned for their return. The sharp sound of a zipper met my ears only seconds before Pierce shoved my skirt higher up my waist. His hands found my ass, ripping my hose away from my skin. He pulled my damp panties down my thighs and pressed his full-length up against me. It throbbed hard, echoing the ache I felt between my thighs.

  My breath was hot on the glass, and my heart was racing faster than it ever had in my life. Pierce grabbed my hands and pressed my palms flat against the window, making my breath rush out of my lungs. Stars danced in my eyes as I stared down at the sidewalk, vertigo battling with lust.

  Pierce reached down and wrapped his hands around my hips, lifting me so that my toes barely brushed the floor. I scratched my fingernails against the glass just as he thrusted his cock inside me. My head began to spin as he began to fuck me hard, and my slick palms slid against the window, barely clinging on.

  His fingers dug harder into my thighs, so hard that his nail pierced my skin. I cried out, overwhelmed by the tornado of emotions spinning through me. This was almost too much for me to take. The intoxicating whirl of fear and pain and pleasure bore down on me like a tidal wave. But I didn’t want it to ever end.

  Pierce groaned as he thrusted his cock into my aching sex, and the sound of his pleasure was enough to send me to the edge. I came harder than I could ever remember, my entire body shuddering as I screamed. The stars in my eyes multiplied until I could barely see. Pierce came with me, and his thrusts eased to a stop. He panted hard as he lowered me to the floor and zipped up his pants, spanking me one last time before moving away.

  I stared down at the streets of Manhattan while I tried to gather my composure. The glass was marked by my hands and my breath, and my ripped hose was tangled around my legs. Evidence of what I’d let Pierce do to me. My face flamed. I didn’t know why I’d let this happen again.

  When I got back to the office, I had to take several deep breaths outside the door before going inside. I was five minutes late, and I knew my face was still flushed from what had happened with Pierce. I’d had to sneak into a restaurant bathroom on the way back and toss away my ruined hose. If my boss noticed they were missing from my legs, I’d be mortified.

  I swung open the door and eased back inside the office, stepping quietly to my desk and dropping behind it. Just as soon as my butt hit the chair, my boss swung out of his office. I winced, but tried to keep my face blank.

  “Long lunch, Emma?” Max Weathers asked, running a hand through his thinning gray hair.

  “I, uh.” I tried to come up with a good excuse, but I had none. He knew I’d only just moved to the city a couple months before, so it wasn’t like I knew many people to meet out for a long lunch. No coworkers either, other than him.

  “Doesn’t matter.” He flicked his wrist to glance at his watch and grabbed his coat from the rack by the door. “I need to go out for some fieldwork. If any potential clients come in, please do be sure not to take the case on yourself. Just take down their information and tell them I’ll call them as soon as I can.”

  I winced again. Even though Pierce had explained everything to my boss, Max still hadn’t quite gotten over the fact that I’d gone out in the field without asking. Things were still a little tense at the office, though his complaints were more sarcastic comments than anything more serious. He could have reacted a lot worse. I was starting to think he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. Kind of grumpy at times, but I was starting to think that was part of his charm.

  “You know…” He paused at the door and gave me an appraising look. “I should tell you that Pierce Donovan sent over a nice bonus for our services. Well, for the work you did for him. I still don’t approve of you taking on the case, but I have to admit, it’s good to see a happy client.”

  I felt a rush of pleasure at his words. But a moment later, the shame followed. If only my boss knew the real reason Pierce had given a bonus, he probably wouldn’t want me even answering phones for him anymore. I wasn’t entirely sure, but there was probably some rule about not letting a client fuck you against his office window.

  “That’s great news,” I said in a strained voice, plastering on a fake smile.

  “Tell you what.” Max tapped his forehead. “Why don’t you start helping me out with some basic casework on the computer? There’s a folder on my desk. I need a couple of criminal records pulled up from the database. You’ll have the program on your computer, too. Print out the files and leave them on my desk.”

  I sat up straighter, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. “Of course. Thanks, Mr. Weathers.”

  Max gave a nod and left the office, leaving me staring at the closed door. He’d made it pretty clear when he’d hired me that the position involved receptionist tasks only. Answering phones and managing his diary. But, if he was going to start letting me actually help him out with some investigative work, then maybe my college degree wouldn’t turn out so useless after all. It might take awhile for me to prove myself, but at least I now had the chance to take the first step.

  After I’d grabbed the folder from Max’s desk, I opened the program on my computer and hoped I’d be able to figure it out. Since I was only hired to answer phones, he’d never given me any training on the programs he used to look into people’s backgrounds, but it all looked simple enough. Smiling to myself, I managed to get the information he needed, print out the records, and file everything neatly in record time.

  When I was done, the blinking cursor on the screen made an idea spark in my mind. An idea I should very much ignore. I hadn’t ended up actually checking to see if Pierce still had the photographs when I’d gone to his office. After he’d taken me against the window, I’d gotten out of there as fast as I could. So, I was as unsure of his innocence as I’d been when I’d stormed over there like an idiot.

  And now a way to get more information was sitting right in front of me.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I typed in the victim’s name before I could talk myself out of it. I had to know what kind of connection he had to Pierce. If I figured that out, then maybe that would tell me why he’d wanted the man followed, and from that, I would know if it was a serious enough reason to end his life.

  The man’s criminal record didn’t give me much information. He’d never been arrested, so he wasn’t in the system, and the only details available were from his driving record. I knew Max had another program on the computer, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be allowed to use it…

  I opened up the program. It did the works—listed addresses, cars, phone numbers, and financial details. It felt a little intrusive, but I wanted to know who Michael Astor was. When I put in the man’s name, I scanned the results. Nothing particularly interesting jumped out at me, and I felt disappointment hang heavy on m
y shoulders. I’d never be able to figure out how Pierce knew this man unless I caught some sort of break.

  And if I tried to ask Pierce about it again…well, I knew what would happen then.

  My eyes got caught on Michael Astor’s list of properties, and I paused. Not only did he own the apartment in Midtown, but he also had a house in Connecticut, even though his job had been in the city. It wasn’t that strange of a situation, but it was still interesting enough to make me want to look closer. I clicked the link, and the program generated a list of his neighbors in the area.

  Leaning forward, I blinked at what I saw. There was no way I was seeing this right. One of his neighbors had a name that was very familiar, and there was no way it could be a coincidence. Chase Donovan. In all the articles I’d found on Pierce, the topic of family had been one he’d always brushed off. But what were the odds that another Donovan lived next door to the man Pierce had hired me to follow?

  My hands found the phone before I knew what I was doing, and I dialled the landline number listed for Chase. Moments later, the line picked up and a sweet female voice came over the line.

  “Hello?” the woman said.

  “Hi, yes. I’m looking for Chase Donovan,” I said.

  “Chase isn’t home at the moment. May I ask who’s calling?”

  I paused, not entirely sure how I wanted to play this. “I’m calling from a genealogy office, and I’m looking into the possible relations of the Donovan family. Does Chase have any living male relatives in the area?”

  “I’m sorry.” The woman’s voice went cold. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  The phone clicked in my ear, and I frowned. Well, that was certainly strange. I turned back to my computer and put “Chase Donovan” into the text bar to see what would come up on a general Internet search. When the results filled the screen, I jumped up from my chair and pressed my hand to my throat.

  Heart hammering hard, I shook my head. Chase Donovan was in his early thirties. He lived in Connecticut, was married, and had two kids. There was a picture of him from his Facebook page with his family. And his wife was the woman I’d taken photos of that night.

  I spun in my chair and stared out at the darkening Manhattan sky. Emma Berry kept popping up in my thoughts at the most inopportune moments. This wasn’t like me. I never got hung up on the same girl. I liked variety. I liked control. And I liked girls who were clearly into BDSM.

  Emma was none of those things. She was too innocent, too sweet, too wide-eyed and wanting more. And a part of me wanted to show exactly what I could give her.

  The window before me had a minuscule scratch from where Emma’s fingernails had dug into the glass when I’d fucked her hard. I’d only meant to distract her, but my cock got the better of me when her pussy had been so wet from my touch. She’d felt so good.

  Sighing, I stood. I needed to get this girl out of my head.

  My phone rang, and I lifted the receiver to my ear in an irritated sweep. I’d told my receptionist I didn’t want to be disturbed right now, and I was almost out the door to go home.

  “Pierce?”

  I narrowed my eyes. This was one woman I certainly never wanted to see or hear from again. “Tell me what you want, Rachel.”

  She could be calling about those photos, but Chase had said he wasn’t quite ready to confront her about them yet. Of course, I was starting to wonder exactly what was going through my little brother’s head these days…

  “A woman just called here asking after Chase’s relatives,” she said in a clipped tone. “Did you have something to do with this?”

  The world seemed to freeze around me. I couldn’t be hearing her right. “Explain exactly what happened, Rachel.”

  “What I just said.” She sighed into the phone. “Some woman called from a New York number. Said she was looking into Donovan genealogy. You really had nothing to do with this?”

  “You should know by now I’d protect Chase at all costs. You’d do well to remember that yourself.”

  There was a moment of silence while my words sunk into Rachel’s head. I shouldn’t have said them of course, but my whole body felt on edge at the thought of someone trying to look into Chase’s past. Rachel didn’t even know the full story, and she’d been married to him for five years. If I had anything to do with it, she’d never know more than she did.

  “Is that some kind of threat, Pierce?” she asked, her voice cool. “What were you doing at the club the other night anyway? Spying on me again? You know he’ll never believe you over me.”

  We’ll see about that, I thought with a smirk. She had no idea Chase had seen those photos, and I wished I could see the look on her face when she found out.

  “Give me the number who called you,” I said instead, mind zeroing back in on the issue. “And I’ll look into it.”

  Rachel rattled off the number and hung up the phone without saying goodbye. I slammed down the receiver and glared. Chase would be so much better off when he got rid of that woman once and for all. In the meantime…

  I frowned at the number Rachel had given me. I didn’t have to look it up to know who it belonged to. I’d been right in my hunch. No genealogy expert would randomly call my little brother to get details on the Donovans. No, the call had come from Max Weather’s office. Emma Berry had been very busy.

  My roommate, Cynthia, brought me a cup of tea and curled up on the other end of the couch. We’d both had pretty crappy days, and vegging out in front of the TV seemed like the only option for sanity. I hadn’t told her what had happened with Pierce. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the look on her face when I told her I’d slept with him again. It’d been a really stupid mistake. One I definitely wouldn’t be making again.

  Especially with his strange connection to the murder.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of what I’d found. One thing was for sure though—Pierce knew the woman somehow. She was married to a Donovan, a man who must be Pierce’s relative. It would explain why he wanted evidence of her affair, but was that enough of a reason for him to want Michael Astor dead?

  I shivered and took a sip of the hot liquid. It soothed some of my nerves while Cynthia picked out a show to watch. She flicked through the channels, and when she got to the news, I held out a hand for her to pause. It was yet another report about Michael Astor’s murder.

  “Reports are in that Michael Astor’s death happened at approximately 11:15 p.m. on Tuesday night.”

  Every hair on my skin stood to attention, and blood roared in my ears. That had been only moments after I’d followed Michael Astor and that Rachel woman and taken photos of them on the street. As soon as he’d gotten home…but then did that mean Pierce wasn’t involved after all? Wouldn’t that mean the man had died way before I’d given Pierce those photos?

  I couldn’t just sit on this information.

  A heavy knock sounded on the door, and I jumped. Cynthia turned to me, and her eyebrows shot up to her forehead. She glanced down at her rumpled t-shirt and yoga pants. My outfit wasn’t much better, and my long hair was twirled into a messy bun on my head.

  “You expecting anyone?” she asked, glancing at the clock. We never had visitors, but especially not after ten o’clock.

  “Nope.” I stood and padded over to the door, peering through the peephole. When I saw who was on the other side, I jumped back and slammed into the tiny table by the entrance where we tossed our keys.

  “What’s wrong?” Cynthia asked, dropping her voice to a hiss and tip-toeing over to where I stood staring at the door, my face drained of all feeling. He couldn’t be here. Not now. Not here. How did he even know where I lived?

  “It’s Pierce,” I hissed back. “Donovan. The guy I…”

  “Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes widening. “Open it.”

  I shook my head, and my hair almost sprang free from its elastic band. Cynthia didn’t know the full story. There was no way I could see him now. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him ever again. Still�
�what I’d just heard on the news made me wonder what he might have to say. At the time of Michael Astor’s death, Pierce would have been back at the club doing…whatever it was guys like him did when they went out on the town.

  Rolling her eyes, Cynthia opened the door and disappeared out of the room before I could stop her. I held my breath and turned to see Pierce glowering at me from the hallway. He didn’t look very happy, though it was hard to pin down exactly why. His expression was as cool and composed as it normally was, but something like danger flickered in his eyes.

  I took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk,” he said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I got a phone call today. It turns out someone has been playing private investigator.”

  Ah crap. The woman on the phone—Rachel Donovan—must have given him a heads up about my call. “Listen, I can explain.”

  “I don’t want you to explain.” His crossed his arms over his broad chest and clenched his jaw. “I want you to stay out of it. Don’t pry into my business.”

  “I only did it because I needed some answers, and it’s not like you gave me any when I came to see you today.”

  “Oh, I gave you some answers.” His eyes went dark. “Now agree you’ll stay out of it. I don’t want to be angry with you, Emma, but this is non-negotiable.”

  Sighing, I shook my head. A part of me felt like I should be angry he came barging into my apartment unannounced, demanding I obey him no questions asked. But another was too tired to put up a fight. If he wanted to keep his secrets, fine. At least they didn’t concern me if the story on the news was correct. As long as my photos had nothing to do with the murder, then we could go our own separate ways, just the way he wanted.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want,” I said with a shrug.

  He cocked his head, clearly surprised. “I expected you to put up more of a fight.”

  “Well, I just saw the news. Michael Astor was killed before I even gave you the photos, so it looks like I was wrong to jump to conclusions.”