by Nova Black
“Meghan.” Her voice was soft.
After a moment I looked up to her, the sweet pulse in her throat causing me to moan.
“My safe word… cinnamon.”
I nodded mutely, and she smiled lying back to the floor, neck arched and vulnerable, hands pinned behind her.
Christ, Lia. “You are perfect. Absolutely perfect.” I tore the bottom half of her dress, tongue sneaking into the waist of her underwear — black and lace and barely there.
I tore them too, my teeth making holes in the lace, tongue questing and finding and oh… fuck she tasted so good. How can she taste so good? Like the salty ocean and sunshine and butter pecan ice cream.
She was making small noises. I bit lightly near her labia and she froze. She didn’t tell me to be careful, she didn’t pull away. She made herself loosen, spreading her legs wide. And wider. Until all her secrets were exposed,
I closed my eyes, just for a moment. How tempted she must have been to ravish me, when it was I who laid there in the conference room, bare and aching and relatively innocent of such pleasures. She had taken her time with me, drawn it out.
I started with two fingers and I wasn’t gentle. I watched her face. I watched her eyes, the spacing of her lips and the muscles in her cheeks. And they spoke to me, they told me when she wanted, when she needed more.
Three fingers and she still wasn’t done. Oh fuck she was so tight. But she wasn’t full, she was still in control, hips rising and falling in smooth waves. Four fingers and her eyes began to lose focus, her breath more ragged. Her attention was inward and I loved that she wasn’t thinking about me at all.
I leaned in. “Lia...?”
She blinked once, twice. Trying to clear her vision. She wasn’t smiling, she was gasping, lungs working…
I said her name again, pushing downward, toward her spot.
“Yes… shit, Meghan. Yes, you may.”
Immediately I pushed my thumb in with my other four fingers, keeping it tucked in the center. I spread them as wide as I could, held still, drawing out the moment, watching the peaceful anticipation on her face.
She had let go.
I made a fist, and she came, almost immediately, bucking against me. Fuck me it was so tight, a clenching vise. I could barely move, her slickness only helping me so far. I waited for her shuddering to stop, and then I began to move inside her.
She held my eyes as I fist fucked her on the bathroom floor. I never noticed how closely she guarded her emotions. How impassive she kept most of her expressions. But, she gave them all to me, everything. And I knew what she didn’t like, what she did. When it hurt I pulled back, returned and pulled away again. Until she wanted it, the pain overshadowed by the deep orgasm building in her. Her voice, throaty and deep, gasping for me not to stop.
When she climaxed, it was so beautiful: A silent song, voiced by the twitch of muscles, of nerve ending, the beat of her drumming pulse. I let it last, drawing out the final note, every quiver an indescribable masterpiece. And, my god, she was beautiful: A wonder, a refuge, a thread of music in the darkness leading to the center of her.
She’d given me this, a glimpse of the part she kept hidden. It sobered me.
I kissed her, sliding my hand out carefully.
I loved her. Even if I never touched her again. Even if I never saw her smile at me again, her eyes knowing and wise and hungry. I would always love her.
We showered together. I didn’t really need to, but I wanted this closeness to last just a moment longer. She was silent in the shower and I respected her reflections, using a sponge to soap her back, her thighs and legs.
When she turned off the water I stepped out first, handing her a towel. She took the towel and kissed me.
“Thank you, Meghan. It was very, very good.”
I blushed, turned to watch her in the mirror.
“So, you would have let me do whatever I wanted?”
She quirked a brow, wrapping a towel around her midsection. “Yes, to a point. For example, I wouldn’t have let you do anything with blades, or fléchettes, solely because you are not skilled with them.”
My breath caught as I imagined drawing neat red lines down her thigh.
Her smile deepened. “I see someone will be getting lessons for Christmas.”
I turned to her. “You would let me…?”
“Come here.”
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “I know where my line is. I’ve been there and back again.” She leaned in, lips warm against my ear. “My dear Meghan, you are nowhere near it.”
I shuddered, body clenching at the deliciously horrible things we haven’t done yet.
She turned to leave, calling over her shoulder.
“If we ever discover your line, believe me Meghan, you will know it. I think," she laughed lowly, "I think the entire building will know it.”
I shuddered again...
Jesus, that woman.
~~~
Too late I remembered I had nothing to wear. I looked at the lacy getup Lia had made me put on. It had somehow torn and was now a sad pile of pretty lace. I snorted. Didn’t even make it out the bathroom with that one.
Another knock on the door and it opened. Zi stood there, grinning in the entryway.
“Hey undercover lover, Lia told me you needed something to wear.”
My eyes slid to her empty hands.
“Well, I have something for you but it’s in my bedroom. On my bed.” She wiggled her eyebrows, turning away, pausing to lean back and grab the handful of clean towels left in the bathroom.
I waited, craning my neck out the door. Waited a bit longer until it was apparent she had no intention of coming back with clothes or towels.
Shit, Zi. Really?
It was a long hallway. I kept glancing back to the barely visible living room but there wasn’t anybody sitting on the few seats I could see. I switched off the hall light, hoping to hide my nakedness as long as possible.
Maybe all of the guests already left? What time was it, anyway? I couldn’t remember seeing any clocks on the walls and made a mental note to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen.
There were like, seven doors at the end of the hallway. I tried to open one but it was locked. How big is this damn apartment?
The next room was the guest room Zi had pulled me in. So that wasn’t it. I heard voices, male voices, coming closer towards the hallway and I picked hurriedly. The one all the way at the end, on the right, furthest from other people.
The room was dark. I fumbled on the wall, found a smooth expanse of nothing.
Sighed and considered out-waiting Zi in the darkness. Wait. Zi was Ms. Techie. I clapped.
Nothing.
I cleared my throat. “Lights?”
They turned on, glaring white.
“Lights, half,” Zi said, grinning, sitting on the bed. They dimmed to a normal, human tolerable level.
“Didn’t take you long, Deepthroat.”
I stuck my tongue out at her, then flushed as memories rose of sticking my tongue in her other parts.
She laughed. Damn, both of them had crazy sexy laughs. What are the fucking odds?
A pair of new red panties lay on her pillow, she pointed to a pile of clothes on the bed. “I don’t wear any of these, you can take your pick. They’re clean.”
Picking through them, my suspicions began making me eye her sidelong. There were tiny, petite capris, ones that would never in a million years fit her curves — or Lia’s for that matter. There were larger jeans with studding down the hips, made to fit a much larger woman. And every combo in between.
She watched me, eyes dancing, as I came to a very obvious conclusion.
“You don’t have any scalps in here, do you?” Her laugh made the room feel five times brighter.
I just shook my head, smiling. Grabbed a pair of chinos and a fitted button down white shirt and threw them on. The top button was missing and I snorted, pulling the loose thread out.
&n
bsp; I looked up and she was standing next to me, her eyes intense. Searching my face.
“What?”
Unexpectedly she leaned in, hugged me. I returned it, hesitantly. She hadn’t struck me as the hugging type. She’d struck me as… I don’t know what type, but it wasn’t a hugger.
“Are you going to stay?”
Stay? “The night?”
“No. Not the night, Meghan.”
My heart leapt and fell at the same time. “Azina…”
“You would be happy here. With us. A lot happier than with the stupid FBI.”
Tell me about it. I didn’t know how I was going to go back, being a patsy and all. Bait that didn’t even do a good job baiting.
But, what was she offering? Bouncing from room to room, until I burned out from the intensity of being pulled by the two of them?
Azina turned away, sitting on a black leather computer chair. For the first time I really noticed her computer setup and made an impressed noise. Twelve or so monitors recessed into the walls, dark, but somehow ominous. The soft hum of multiple computers came from a ceiling high cabinet in the corner. I’m going to assume she didn’t play games on them all. At least, not exclusively.
“Do you even know my last name, Meghan?”
Um…
“It’s Onyx. Azina Onyx.”
I blinked. “You and Lia are related?” I tried to keep my lip from curling but don’t think it worked.
“We are not related by blood. But we are family.”
Okay. “So, you two are married or something?”
“No.”
I sighed. See, this is why I need to stay in my league. Their shit is complicated.
“Do you know who owns this building?”
“No, Azina.”
“Oscar Onyx. And the condo across the street, Linda Onyx. The Italian restaurant we bought the pizza dough, Vincent Onyx…”
She waited for me. I shook my head, confused, and she sighed.
“In the past few decades, particularly in this city, there have been a slew of non-marital name changes; most of them have changed only their last name, primarily to Onyx. These people are usually wealthy but all have recently become wealthy, very wealthy. Most now hold considerable influence in both the political and business spheres.”
Wait a minute…
“You mean you and Lia are part of some kind of organized crime family? Some type of mafia shit??”
She grinned. “Now you’re getting it. You know, for a math whiz you’re pretty slow at connecting dots — which is why the FBI chose you. You know, because of your general obtuseness and lack of attention to clues. Any clues.”
I frowned at her. “I get it.”
“Like, even the most obvious of clues. Do you have any idea how much a Maserati costs?”
Got it. I’m a horrible investigator. I suck.
“But you’re naive with a stubborn streak and a deeply buried wild side. And that combination, my dear, is one of Lia’s Achilles’ heels. Your FBI needed someone who could keep Lia’s attention: Who better than a sexy lab rat with repressed desires?”
“And, so…” I sat on the bed. “You want me to join your criminal family?”
I had thought those other moments surreal.
“They like to call it the Kinship, though there is certainly a fair amount of criminal activity.” She shrugged, “Mostly it’s about looking out for one another, pooling resources, protecting assets, expanding our territory….”
My brow furrowed and she laughed. “Yeah, that sounds exactly like a criminal organization. You don’t have to do anything illegal, Meghan. You can sit on the couch all day and crochet those funky looking dog blankets if you want.”
Wait. How did she know about my volunteer work at the animal shelter? My first name was not changed to an alias because it was such a common one, but I never gave any details into my background or where I was from. Certainly never gave my last name to them.
Zi rolled her eyes, “It takes longer for my computers to boot up than it did finding your identity, Meghan. One cup of coffee and I knew everything about you, including that hushed up scandal with you and Bobby Whitehouse. Good job on kicking his ass, girl.”
I flushed. The bastard had it coming; I heard he still doesn’t walk right.
“Meghan. My point is, we work well together, and we fit — you, Lia and I. You don’t give a shit about legality, I can see it in your eyes. The only reason you joined the FBI was to keep little cum-smears like Bobby Whitehouse from hurting you and others ever again.”
She tilted her head. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your career analyzing confiscated drugs in some windowless lab?”
I looked away. Of course I cared about illegal activities, I’m with the FBI.
Didn’t I?
Yes, my current actions may not be a shining example, sleeping with a suspect and all, but… a gang? A motherfucking mafia??
“It’s more like a coterie, you know. We don’t shake people down for protection money or anything. We simply combine our resources and take control of everything we can.”
She smiled.
Honestly, I have a grudging respect for Azina’s bluntness. I like that she refuses to spin, but… I definitely would have spun that last part.
“So the FBI knows about this, that’s it’s deeper than smuggling illegal goods?”
She just looked at me.
Yeah. A very obtuse question. Of course they know. Of course this whole operation was a ruse within a ruse, a way to get a foothold into this “Kinship”.
Great. Just fucking great.
“Look,” I drew a shaky breath. “I need to make a phone call and I left my purse in Lia’s office.”
Zi looked as if she was trying very hard not to laugh. “Meghan. Are you going to call your undercover boss, on the suspect’s phone, from inside the suspect's house? Oh, honey…”
She stood, kissing me on the forehead. “You are not meant for this. Stay with us. Be adorably naive and clueless with us.”
“Zi,” Lia called from the doorway.
I closed my eyes, hearing Zi leave.
Lia sat next to me on the clothes covered bed. I felt her arm go around me, warm and strong. Her cinnamon soap scented skin invading my bloodstream, making my heart pull closer to her.
We sat in silence for a while, the weight of my ineptitude lead in my chest. My thoughts spiraled darker and darker.
“Whatever you may think, Meghan, you did exactly what you were supposed to do.”
I glanced at her. Fuck up?
“You were supposed to distract me and you did. You were supposed to expose my vulnerabilities. And you did.”