Lace Underground: The Complete Trilogy

by Oliver, Tess

  "Only you." I barely get the words out before he drives his cock into me. I come as he fills me. My arms can barely support me as my body vibrates and writhes against his thrusts. He rocks against me hard enough to inch the heavy desk across the floor. He grabs my face between his hands and slams his mouth over mine. My lips are forever swollen and bruised from his kisses, yet all I can think is I want him to kiss me harder. There is never enough of his mouth, his hands, his cock. There is never enough.

  Kane's frustrated growl fills the air. For him, it is never enough either. "I want to fucking devour you, Sin. I want to fucking devour you." He withdraws and takes rough hold of me, dropping my feet unceremoniously to the cold floor. His strong hands spin me around. He pushes his hard shoe between my feet and spreads them wider. I brace my hands against the desk to keep from falling face first. Kane wraps his fist in my hair and tugs my head back.

  "My sweet, sweet Tawny," he groans before impaling me again.

  He releases my hair and takes firm hold of my hips. It feels as if my wrists will break in two as I brace against the onslaught of his thrusts. My pussy clenches with orgasm again. I can no longer support my body. I fold down pressing my breasts against the cold surface of the desk. My face rests on a folder labeled new member applications. I grin faintly at the irony. I'm here to shut the whole fucking thing down. Instead, in the heat of passion, I'm collapsed over a file of possible new members.

  Kane's fingers dig into my hips. He holds me firmly in place as he withdraws from my tender pussy and slides his cock into my ass. Seconds later his hot seed is coating my naked skin.

  Kane lifts me away from his desk and sits back hard on his chair, carrying me along with him. I rest my head against his shoulder and revel in what I consider the cherry on top of the sundae, a long quiet moment in his arms. The scent of his soap is etched so deep into my senses, I can smell it in my sleep.

  I watch the eight deep scars on his forearm move in unison as he trails his hand along my skin. For the first time, I lift my hand to touch the scars. He flinches and holds a breath as my finger rubs along the ridges of each deep scar. His reaction doesn't stop my progress as I run my fingertip over each straight line, each crevice carved carefully, purposefully into his skin. They are hardened with age. They have stretched to accommodate an adult sized forearm.

  "You made these as a child," I say, even though I know nothing about the scars. It's rare when I ask anything about the man who I allow to play, punish and seduce me in any way he pleases.

  I don't expect him to respond and am mildly surprised when he answers. "They are reminders." He pulls his arm from my touch. "Like tally marks on a prison wall," he adds curtly.

  "Don't be mad. I was just curious." I cuddle harder against him, letting him know I need his arms around me for a bit longer before he sends me off again. He senses my need and curls his arms tighter.

  "Hmm," I sigh in the comfort of his embrace. "How can a pair of arms feel so secure and yet make me feel so insecure." The thought drifts out of my mouth before I can stop it.

  "How can someone feel so right in my arms when I know she is going to bring my downfall."

  Nectar makes my processing skills slow, and it takes me a second to comprehend his words. I struggle to sit up but he holds me tight in his grasp. A second of panic overtakes me. For an instant, I feel more captive than I want to be. For a brief second, I'm no longer his favorite plaything but his prisoner. When he finally releases me, I nearly fall off his lap in my attempt to be free of his grasp.

  I stand up in front of him. I've never been so aware of my nakedness. His cool blue eyes lock with mine. It's a rare moment of clarity in an otherwise drug muddled existence. In those few seconds, every emotion races through me, fear, excitement, heartbreak, homesickness. I'm close to dropping to my knees at the thought of being home, in the sunshine, sitting on some hot sidewalk bench eating a burger with Maddox. Breathing in car fumes, listening to street chaos and licking ketchup off my fingertips. The moment slips easily away. I'm pulled back to the present, to the hard face of the man who just took me in every way on the top of his desk.

  I don't want to leave him.

  I step to the side as Kane rolls his chair forward. His phone beeps as he picks it up.

  "Yes, sir?" Blake's ready to please voice comes through the speaker.

  "She is ready to be escorted back to her room." His order is dry and terse.

  I pick up the remnants of my torn panties and bra, but there is nothing left to cover me. I fold my arms across my breasts in a silly attempt at modesty and stand by the door to wait for my escort. I don't look back at the man sitting behind the desk, but I know he's watching me. I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel the heat of his gaze staring at my naked body. It gives me a sliver of hope that I have not lost him. It's insane and frightening and I have no idea what will happen next, but the thought of him not wanting me is far worse than anything else I can imagine.

  Blake's light knock startles me out of my tense trance. Tears fall down my cheeks the second Blake's familiar face peers around the door. He glances back at his boss and then reaches in and grabs my hand to pull me from the room.

  Blake leads me down the hallway back to the bedroom corridor. "Everything all right, darlin'?" He squeezes my hand. It's all I need to feel reassured of his friendship.

  "If you look past the fact that I'm going out of my mind," I say with a half sob and half laugh. "Everything is just fine."

  I don't need to explain anything to Blake. He knows. It's why he so badly wants Kane Freestone to grow tired of me. He knows just like I know that the dark, obsessive arrangement we have will not end well.

  2

  Maddox

  The front door opens and closes. Tiffany walks in with several empty suitcases. I get up to give her a hand. She puts up her palm to stop me. "I don't want your help. I thought you weren't going to be here so I could get my stuff out without seeing you."

  "Just thought we could talk. But now that you're here, I don't know what to say except that the timing was just wrong." I hate the hurt in her eyes. I want to kick myself from here to fucking eternity for diving into this so fast. I know now that more than anything I used Tiffany as a buffer and a way to convince myself that I didn't love Ten. The buffer didn't work. In the process, I hurt both women. Tiffany deserved way better.

  "Timing?" she asks. "Fucking timing? You break off the engagement and the relationship because it wasn't the right time for you? Fuck you, James. Just fuck you." She shuffles past on her heels dragging her suitcases behind her. She stops at the hallway and turns back to me. "You can't even admit it now, with everything ended and broken. You still can admit that it's got nothing to do with timing or me or too many fucking wedding plans as you complained about time after time. It's all about her. Just fucking admit that it's all about your partner. Even now, after she's deserted you to do God knows what, you can't get her out of your big, thick head. Just admit it, you asshole. Admit that it's that rusty haired, smart ass detective, and you'll save both of us a lot of therapy sessions."

  I look at her from across the room. "It's her," I say, without hesitation. "It's Ten."

  3

  Angie

  I double check the bikini in the bathroom mirror. My ribs are far too prominent. My skin is sallow. I look like a prisoner of war. In truth, I'm exactly that, a prisoner. Only there's no war. With the exception of the one going on in my head. It's been two days since the visit to Kane's office where all went as expected, the usual routine of mind-blowing sex finishing with me cradled in his arms. Only this time it ended with his alarming claim that I would bring his world down around him. He'd said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly as if it wasn't just a heat of the moment notion but something he'd already solidified in his head.

  Naturally, I spent the rest of the day and night wondering if he knew my true identity. But I laughed that idea off quickly when it occurred to me that I hardly knew my true self anymore. The nectar and my
time with Kane in his strange, sunless world had morphed me into an entirely different person. Aside from the red hair, I hardly recognize the person staring back at me from the mirror.

  Blake knocks before entering. "Are you almost ready?" He continues talking as he walks through the room. "The rest of the girls are already at the pool enjoying their night off. They're serving—" He stops in the bathroom. It's easy to read Blake's expression. He wears every emotion like an easy to read book.

  "I can't go. Look at me. I'm skin and bones. It's a wonder Kane hasn't kicked me out already. Guess he won't have to if I just dissolve into nothing."

  Blake smiles. "I've brought you something I think will help." For the first time I notice he has one hand behind his back.

  "No more vitamin D pills," I complain. "I know they're necessary down here, but they actually hurt my stomach."

  "I don't know why I didn't think of this before. Just want to kick myself for being so darn stupid." He pulls out his hand. It's a large frothy glass filled with a berry red smoothie of some sort. "I asked the chef to add protein powder and some other stuff to fluff up the calories."

  I take the drink in my hand. "Hmm, smells delicious." I sip the liquid through the extra thick straw and sigh with satisfaction. "You are brilliant, my friend."

  Blake lifts his hand to his chest. "You don't need to tell me." He stares notably down at my body. "I just wish I'd thought of it one pair of curvy hips ago. I've just never seen any of the other girls react like this to the nectar. It seems with you every side effect and reaction is ten-fold."

  "Are you calling me a horn-dog?"

  Blake's kind laugh echoes through the bathroom. "If the shoe fits, darlin'." Blake knew that I was upset when I left Kane's office, but I never revealed what his boss said. It would only make him worry more. "Let's do something with your hair. The other girls will be checking out everything, surveying you from head to toe."

  "Forget it. I don't want to go. I don't need their scrutiny. As much as I would love to talk to more people, other than Kane and you. No offense."

  "None taken but I guarantee I'm more fun than any of the girls in that pool."

  "I'm certain of it." I hug him. It's a gesture that I find myself doing more and more. Good friend that Blake is, he never seems to mind. "So I'll just skip the pool party."

  "No can do, sweetums. Boss's orders. Besides, you need to get out of this room. The overhead UV lights are on in the pool area, so you'll get a little color on that powder white complexion."

  "What I need is real sunlight, fresh air, a beach. That's what I need." My morning dose of nectar is wearing off. As it thins out in my bloodstream, it always leaves a longing for some of the reality I've left behind.

  "We should probably get you another injection." He heads to the panel where the syringes are kept.

  "No, please. I'm feeling clear headed and surprisingly good. I don't want any. Let me just be me." I hold out my thin arms. "Cadaver girl. The other girls will be talking and laughing about me the rest of the night and at the same time wondering just what the hell Kane sees in me." My arms drop. "Pussy," I say aloud, even though it was more or less just a depressing thought. "That's all he sees. Guess he doesn't mind what's above or below it." A lump forms in my throat assuring me that the level of nectar in my bloodstream is dropping fast.

  Blake walks quickly toward me and takes my face into his hands to look me directly in the eyes. "It's not just pussy, darlin'. And you probably know what I'm going to say next, but I'm going to say it anyhow. I wish that it were. I wish it was just about pussy." It's there again, the worry that takes over his expression whenever the topic comes up.

  He drops his hands. "Let's do your hair. I've got some good news about my little crush on Jason, the hunky bodyguard."

  I laugh. "Little crush?" We walk out to the bedroom.

  "Well, monstrous crush. Anyhow, I made the first move and turns out he feels the same way."

  "Woo hoo. I'm so happy for you." I turn around and hug him again.

  Sometimes, it's harder than I expect to let him go.

  4

  Kane

  I lean back on my chair and watch the scene at the pool through the security cameras. The cameras are more to protect the women than to spy on them. But tonight is different. Tonight she is at the pool. As often as I try to wrench her from my thoughts, I always find myself settling right back into my obsession. And it’s exactly that. There is no other word in the dictionary to describe my feelings toward her. Even after admitting out loud, and not just to myself but to her, that she will bring my eventual downfall, I still can’t wash her from my soul. She’s invaded every corner of my being, twisted and dark as it is. I convince myself a dozen times a day to let her go. Just send her away, I think over and over. Take the temptation away and everything will be back to normal. But my arguments never stick. My insatiable need to have her always wins.

  I click on the camera that has her in its lens path. She is far too thin and looks deathly pale as she sits on the edge of the pool. She has reacted strongly to the nectar. She hasn’t gained back her appetite, which is a good reason to stop the injections. But the greedy, obsessed madman inside of me doesn’t want to lose her or the sex. There is no way she would care for or crave a monster like me if she was sober.

  A few of the other women have spoken briefly to her, but for the most part, she sits alone, looking out of place and uncomfortable. She rubs her arms often, signaling that she has skipped the evening dose of nectar. It angers me as much as it excites me. It’s an opportunity to have her naked in my arms without the buffer of the drug. Would she be repelled or tense? Can I handle knowing the truth? Maybe knowing that truth will help break the hold she has on me. Or maybe it will make me go insane with despair.

  Either way, it is time to find out.

  5

  Angie

  I have a hard time remembering all the names at the pool. It is a mix of both my semi-drugged state and my lack of interest. The truth is, I don't care to know any of them. Just as they don't care to know me. I have no doubt the few conversations some of the women started with me were strictly out of curiosity. They want to know how on earth this thin, pale and as I've heard more times than I care to, not terribly pretty woman sitting at the end of the pool could possibly hold Kane's interest for so long. Since I have no rational answer for it myself, I avoid the topic completely.

  "You should just tell Blake to bring you fully loaded carbs," a woman named Georgia tells me. I remember her name easily because she has a sultry Southern accent to go with it. So far, she is the only fairly genuine person at the pool. Georgia rests her arms back on the pool edge and lets her long, tan legs float up. She says the tan is from a bottle, but it looks amazingly real, like she's been sitting on a beach in the Bahamas for a week. "And I don't mean whole grains like all the nutrition experts say," she continues with her advice. "You need waffles and pancakes smothered in butter and topped with plenty of maple syrup. That'll plump you up nicely."

  "Waffles and pancakes? Can't say no to those." I lift my hand to rub the creepy crawly feeling in my arms but stop myself short of scratching the itch. The friction only makes the symptoms worse.

  Georgia floats away from the edge of the pool and wades to the steps where I'm sitting. She has light hazel eyes and short brown hair with a pert little nose dotting the middle of her face. "You aren't the first girl to suffer weight loss from nectar. A girl named—" she taps her chin. "Betsy or Beverly or something. Can't remember." She laughs once. "I sometimes think living down here is wiping away every bit of my memory. Can't hardly remember a darn thing anymore."

  I nod in agreement only I'm certain the nectar has more to do with the memory loss than living below ground.

  "Anyhow, Betsy was skinny to begin with. You know one of those tall runway types. In fact, she was a little too thin. The club members overlooked her a lot, even though she was stunning with big blue eyes and cherry lips. But she got so skinny, Mr. Freestone
decided she wouldn't survive down here, so he sent her away."

  "Away? Where to?"

  Georgia smiles. "You sound worried. I don't blame you. If you get much thinner, I think you'll be sent away too." She seems to say it not to be bitchy but more as a warning. "Not sure where the girls go when they leave here because it's never happened to me. I get picked every club night," she says proudly. "I've got a solid position here unless I start growing warts on my nose or something," she laughs. "Anyhow, you should try the waffles and syrup."

  "I'll give 'em a try."

  Two other women swim over to hear what we're talking about. I recognize one of them as Eve, the woman who Blake had labeled toxic. My first encounter with her was pretty much that.

  "Why are you talking about waffles, Georgia?" the other woman asks as they near. She has long hair that she's braided for the swim party. She looks young, not more than twenty, but she also looks like someone who has seen more than her share of the ugly side of life. There's a scar on her chin that looks as if it was put there by a fist with a ring.

  "Hey, Robyn," Georgia says, "just telling Tawny how to put some weight on her bones." She mumbles something else to Robyn, but I can't make out the words.

  Robyn looks me up and down. "You are pretty thin. You should just eat sticks of butter."

  Eve rolls her eyes. "You are so stupid. Nothing will help. If the drug makes you anorexic, there's no way to stop it. You either need to get off of it or starve to death," she says confidently. "Either way, you'll be of no use to Mr. Freestone or to Lace Underground."