Femme Faux Fatale

by Susan Laine

  Oblivious to Cain’s rambling musings, Riley hummed a delightful little tune while dabbing his cheeks rosy-pink and his lips bloodred. “Cain?” he asked, though he sounded absentminded.

  This might be his last chance, Cain thought. “Will you spend the night at my place?”

  Riley flushed red, a coy smile curling up the corners of his lips, and he nodded.

  “Good.” Cain had a feeling that after this discussion Riley would rescind his acceptance of Cain’s invitation. “I went to meet Mirabel at her apartment,” he said quietly, his gaze aimed at his companion, ready to detect even the minutest reaction. He’d get to the bottom of Riley if it killed him—which was entirely possible, all things considered. “I found her in bed with a man.”

  Riley’s head whipped in Cain’s direction. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and his mouth opened. His lips moved as though he were trying to speak, but nothing came out, not so much as a squeak. His shock looked real. But Cain had been fooled before.

  Besides, why be shocked about Mirabel in bed with a man? Surely their deaths would be a far greater shock. Unless Riley really hadn’t known that Mirabel was Sheridan’s secret mistress. He had said as much, but Cain had his doubts about whether to believe Riley on that score.

  “Wh-what…?” Riley cocked his head and blinked hard. His impression of complete innocence was spot on, Cain had to give him that.

  “That’s not the worst part. The fact that they were both dead is.”

  Riley went very still. It was as if he’d frozen midmotion. He stared at Cain like he’d grown another head. Then the blinking resumed. Whatever he was processing, it didn’t seem to compute.

  “Mirabel and Sheridan are dead,” Cain pressed on. But he gentled his voice. Riley seemed to be in a state of shock. Cain realized he didn’t like that look on Riley at all. “They were murdered. Their bodies were slashed and cut in half like… like the Black Dahlia.”

  When Riley spoke, Cain realized Riley really had no clue what was going on.

  “That’s impossible.” Riley’s shock evaporated. In its place was a steadfast and calm young man whose eyes flashed intently. His chin lifted with determination. “I don’t know who the dead man is, but there is no chance in this world it’s Sheridan Astor.” His gaze narrowed. “Why would you assume it was Sheridan?”

  “Camille identified them both.”

  “Camille was there?” Riley stood so fast he knocked the chair back. It clattered to the floor unnoticed.

  “She came by to confront Mirabel, who’d called in sick. She concluded that Mirabel had to be Sheridan’s secret paramour.”

  It occurred to Cain that Mirabel had been dead for over a day. Therefore she couldn’t have called Bianca Banks to tell her she was sick and staying home. Someone had pretended to be Mirabel. Why? To delay the discovery of the murder? And who had the real caller been? Had to be a girl, right? Not that men couldn’t sound like women. Cain knew one right off the bat….

  Pacing in the confined room, which became smaller as a result, Riley muttered to himself, his voice shifting between uncertain and convinced.

  Cain stood and approached cautiously. “Care to fill me in, sweetheart?”

  Riley started. He opened his mouth but then snapped it shut. A familiar scene, repeated ad nauseam. So the man had decided yet again to keep a tight lip over whatever it was he was hiding.

  “Listen, Cain. I… I know you have no reason to believe me. We don’t know each other all that well, but… I promise you, that dead man is not Sheridan Astor. And if the murder scene did indeed resemble that of the Black Dahlia… then someone is trying to implicate me. My choice of stage name, the story of what inspired me, it’s well-known at the club.”

  Confusion was a word too small to describe the maelstrom of disorder inside Cain’s brain. If Riley was behind all these strange happenings—the mastermind pulling everyone’s strings, even if not the actual culprit behind the theft and murder themselves—then why try to keep the case alive by claiming that one of the bodies wasn’t who Camille said it was?

  If Riley was innocent, he had a lot to explain. If he was guilty… then Cain was shit out of luck. One thing was for certain: if Riley wasn’t going to reveal the truth straight to Cain’s face, then Cain would be forced to get creative.

  Chapter Twelve

  “LEAVE the dress on.”

  Cain closed the door to his apartment after they entered and leaned against it, enjoying the delectable view. Riley hadn’t removed his makeup, silk stockings, or the body-hugging red dress that covered him head to toe. His red high heels added several inches to his otherwise small stature. With his long black hair cascading down his back in elegant curls, he looked divine.

  Riley quirked an eyebrow, and a sly smile rose onto lips painted red as rubies. “As you wish.”

  He moved deeper into the apartment and headed for the bedroom, swinging his hips as if seducing Cain with each step. And it worked. Cain was hard as nails in the blink of an eye.

  The buttons on Riley’s dress were at the back. Cain’s fingers itched to undo them and strip his lover down to his naked glory. He stepped closer slowly, stalking Riley, who stopped at the foot of the bed and glanced at Cain over his shoulder, a wicked gleam in his eyes. The blatant invitation made Cain’s blood boil.

  He knelt behind Riley, grabbed his hips, and turned him around. Yes, this was what he had his eye on, what he wanted, what he’d promised.

  Taking his time, Cain slid his hands lower till he reached the hem of Riley’s red dress. He lifted it gently, raising it higher till Cain had a full visual of the straps of Riley’s stockings, the silk dark red and shimmering in the dim lighting. Cain’s hands actually began to sweat from lust at that moment.

  “It’s funny, but this has never been a fantasy of mine,” Cain said.

  “What?”

  “A man in a woman’s clothing. Yet… looking at you all dolled up like this, I want you so bad it’s like you’re a drug coursing through my veins. Worse than sugar. I need a fix.”

  Riley threaded his fingers through Cain’s thick head of hair, petting him. “I’m all yours.”

  The instinct to meet Riley’s gaze and affirm whether the man was telling the truth was so strong it would have brought Cain to his knees had he not already assumed that position. Riley saying that was hot, but more than that, it suggested to Cain delicious prospects for the future.

  And not all of them were about sex.

  But maybe that was wishful thinking. Riley’s secrets made trusting him a challenge to say the least—let alone loving him.

  Cain snapped open the buttons attached to the garter belt, one on the front and another in the back of each leg. The silk felt cool and luxurious against Cain’s fingertips. He ran his hands down shapely thighs, strong calves, and slender ankles to remove one stocking and one high heel at a time, leisurely, savoring the uncommon sensual experience. This was one element of sex, specifically erotic lingerie, that he didn’t have much personal acquaintance with.

  “Do you find me pleasing?” Riley asked above him, those smoldering green eyes sparking verdant flames. He raised his arms over his head, stretching, his back arching, his hips jutting out.

  Cain gulped. All the blood in his head shot south. He’d never felt this turned on and randy. It was as if he’d go insane if he couldn’t have Riley tonight.

  Growling, lust overriding his common sense, Cain gripped the hem of the dress and tore it in two. Instead of scolding him, Riley smirked knowingly. In his womanly attire, he seemed to be perfectly in tune with his effect on Cain, how desirous this version of him made Cain.

  “You’re stunning. Wanna fuck you all night. Wanna do things to you. Nameless, dangerous things.”

  Riley quirked an eyebrow, smiling enigmatically in the vein of a true femme (faux) fatale. “You should see me in my black chemise. It’s translucent, obscuring yet revealing. Would you like that, lover?” His smooth, sultry voice stroked Cain’s cock like a real touch. />
  “Wear that and I’ll be your slave.”

  Riley bent down and kissed Cain on the lips, a sweet prelude to the symphony of sex ahead of them. “I don’t want a slave. I want a conqueror. A real man.” His black curls gave off a whiff of plums. “Take me, Cain. Fuck me like there’s no tomorrow, the way I know you want to.”

  If Cain had been enthralled before, now he was on the verge of a heart attack. Riley spoke to each and every one of his hidden dreams of sensuality.

  He ripped the front of the dress till the piece of clothing, rent into two halves, fell off Riley to pool on the floor at his feet. Now Riley had on nothing but red lacy hipsters, the front bulging with his erection.

  Riley chuckled, his tone teasing. “Check out the back. Wore these just for you.”

  Curious, Cain whipped Riley around—and gasped in shock.

  The lovely hipster-style underwear had an open back with an oval tear design running along the crack between Riley’s buttcheeks. The shocking red-as-rubies color accentuated the impact, set against the backdrop of ivory skin and firm mounds of flesh. Cain’s mouth went drier than a desert.

  Ferocious, Cain twirled Riley back around, yanked the front down enough that Riley’s hot, hard dick bounced free, and sealed his lips around the cockhead. Faintly he heard Riley moan above him. His own prick stiffened in response. The damn thing actually hurt; it felt as if he’d been hard for an eternity already. An eternity in a hell of unfulfilled sexuality.

  “Oh, gah, uh….” Riley kept mumbling words that made no sense. Utterances born of fading self-control.

  Cain wrapped one hand around the base of Riley’s cock, cradled his balls with the other, and used his mouth to suck on the head. He ran his tongue over the tip and slit, gathering an array of salty-sweet droplets, like saltwater taffy. He drank Riley’s juices greedily, thirsty for more.

  “Oh fuck yeah, sweet Jesus.” Riley’s legs shook, but Cain kept him standing upright.

  “You’re like a walking, talking pixie stick. You melt in my mouth,” Cain muttered. “Like a perfect Popsicle or lollipop. You’re fast becoming a habit I might not be able to break.”

  Riley’s smile was soft and shy and seemingly pleased. But he said nothing.

  Cain growled and hummed, swirled his tongue around the mushroom-shaped head, probed the slit and the sweet spot beneath the crown, and then licked Riley’s cock from base to tip, tracing all the veins that throbbed against his sensitive taste buds. Cain sucked on the head and swiped his tongue across the feverish, spongy surface. Then he took Riley’s shaft deeper and gulped around the length buried down his throat, not a hint of gag reflex in sight.

  Riley responded beautifully, his thighs aquiver, his knees buckling, his hips shivering, his throat releasing raw keening sounds of passion.

  It was too much. Cain pulled off, releasing Riley’s cock with a lewd, wet pop, twisted him around, and brought the man down on his knees. The exposed backside in front of him hurled Cain into the dizzying depths of desire. Snarling in frustration, Cain jerked open the fly of his jeans and rubbed his hard length between Riley’s asscheeks.

  “Mmm, yes, exactly like that,” Riley whispered hoarsely, as he leaned his upper body over the foot of the bed, rested his cheek against the bedspread, and clutched it in his fisted hands.

  Up and down along the delicious crevice wasn’t enough for Cain’s cock. He needed more. He fumbled in his front pockets until he produced two packets—one of lube, the other latex—and made quick work of prepping them both. He knew he wasn’t being the most gentle of lovers.

  Then he got confirmation that he didn’t need to.

  “Oh my God, Cain, please, fuck me. Do it now. Take me, please, take me….” Riley’s words faded into pure unadulterated moans.

  Cain didn’t waste time. He aligned his dick with Riley’s hole and pushed in. He didn’t stop until he was fully seated, again hating the barrier between them. Before either of them had caught their breaths, Cain set a brutal pace to claim his lover’s body.

  And judging from the way Riley kept shoving his ass back to meet Cain’s thrusts, he didn’t have a problem with the assault on his body and senses.

  Pounding into Riley with reckless, wild abandon was beyond blissful for Cain. He had no words, no thoughts in his brain, no sense of self left. Being joined with Riley became everything.

  Cain’s cock sank in deep, Riley’s channel hot and tight, yielding flesh that surrounded him till he felt like crying and laughing at once. He thrust in harder and faster, quickly losing control, his mind giving way to animal instinct.

  It was a good thing they weren’t on the bed, with Riley leveraged against the headboard, as the noise would undoubtedly get Cain evicted. He covered his lover’s back like a blanket, fucking him within an inch of his life, a base need thriving within him. Cain gripped Riley’s hands with one of his own and slid the other to take a firm grasp of Riley’s cock. Riley groaned, his buttcheeks soft and warm, bouncing against Cain’s hips.

  The end came out of the blue. Riley jolted, his cries grew louder, and wetness covered Cain’s hand on Riley’s dick. How had it gotten there? He couldn’t consciously say. Covetous cravings, perhaps? All he knew was that Riley’s climax sent him hurtling over the edge too, and he pumped come into the condom, his balls pulling tight to his body, his prick spilling its seed fast and loose.

  Exhausted, they slumped against each other and the bed, panting roughly, sweating profusely, floating on clouds of euphoria, boneless and sated. As Riley laced their fingers together, Cain had a sneaking suspicion that nothing could ever top this ascendant experience. And that was daunting as hell.

  CAIN wasn’t surprised when Riley snuck out of bed in the early hours of the morning, clearly assuming Cain was still asleep.

  As soon as the front door closed, Cain jumped out of bed, into his clothes and shoes, and snuck a peek through the half-closed blinds. Riley stood at the curb in his man-clothes, his hair in a loose knot on top of his head, and he hugged himself. The nights could be cold in LA.

  Cain dashed downstairs and took up a position by the apartment building main door with a window embedded. From there he could spy on Riley’s movements without being seen, ready to do what he had to.

  A dark sedan slowed and veered to pick Riley up. The driver stepped out in a rush, and Cain identified him: Honoré. After a brief discussion, both using animated gestures in a heated argument Cain couldn’t hear, Riley entered the car, closed the door, and the vehicle left the curb.

  Cain had been right to stay awake and see what his secretive lover was up to. By the time Cain rushed into his truck a few seconds later, Honoré had driven off with his passenger. That didn’t matter. Cain still had eyes on them as he swerved into the dark street to follow them, his tires kicking up clouds of dirt and gravel, screeching sharply in the night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A DARK mist crept in from the sea, obscuring the nighttime town. Streetlights gave out an ominous glow, cascading down in visible beams. Cain kept his distance from Riley and Honoré but never lost sight of his quarry. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry. It was unlikely they could have realized they were being tailed. This wasn’t Cain’s first rodeo after all.

  They were headed to West Hollywood, Cain noted. Soon Honoré stopped in front of a swanky four-star hotel on Sunset Boulevard called Sunset Tower Hotel. The tall white building resembled an art deco tower built in the twenties. Its balconies on top were lit up, shining brightly in the dark of night. Cain recognized the joint, as it was a renowned Hollywood landmark.

  Honoré didn’t park or exit the vehicle. Riley climbed out, leaned in through the window to say something, and then walked into the hotel alone. Honoré drove off. Cain parked to the side and hurried inside after his secretive lover.

  Beige curtains and creamy-white armchairs and couches dominated the lobby’s sitting area. A freestanding fireplace was lit up with actual roaring flames. Dark wooden paneling decorated the walls and floors i
n a simple style. Rugs with clean lines and dim colors covered the floors. No strong odors lingered; everything smelled clean and polished.

  Cain hung back and watched Riley bypass the front desk and walk directly toward the elevators. As soon as Riley got in, Cain dashed over to see which floor Riley would go to, hoping he wouldn’t go to the top, the fifteenth floor. Thankfully the elevator stopped on the ninth floor.

  Cursing under his breath, Cain darted into the other elevator and rode up, praying he’d get a chance to observe which room Riley would enter. As the elevator dinged its old-fashioned bell tone, Cain exited stealthily.

  At the end of the hall on the right, Riley stood in front of a door. He must have knocked but so far received no answer. Cain stayed out of sight in the small elevator alcove.

  The door opened. From his poorly angled vantage point, Cain could neither see nor hear the occupant. Riley’s smile was genuine, though, so it must have been someone he knew. He crossed the threshold—and Cain jumped into action, charged across the hallway, and stormed into the premiere suite before anyone could close the door.

  “Oh my God!” an unknown woman exclaimed in shock and fear, backing away fast. A gun appeared in her hand, the barrel aimed at Cain’s chest.

  “No, wait! I know him. It’s okay.” Riley spoke in a rush from the back, but the tone of his voice spoke of disappointment.

  Cain was beyond caring. He slammed the door shut and walked in with a determined stride. “Time to spill the beans, honey.”

  Riley’s lips tightened in a disapproving line. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

  Cain grimaced. “Two people are dead. I don’t give a flying fuck about decency.”

  “What?” the woman blurted in obvious confusion. But she did lower the gun.

  Riley sighed. “That’s what I was coming to tell you.” Sadness and empathy crept into his watering eyes and soft voice. “I’m sorry but… Mirabel is dead.”