by Layla Reyne
Groaning, Celia arched into Helena’s touch. “I’m good with all that.” Rocked again in case she wasn’t clear. “Please.”
“Problem is…” Helena kissed across her chest and licked beneath the boatneck of her tank, hinting at where her tongue might go. “You’re on a dolly, and you’re too fucking tall. I can’t spread you out in all your beautiful fucking glory here.”
If Celia had been standing, she would have swooned. As it were, another wave of heat and wetness arrowed south, and as much as she wanted to use her hand still in Helena’s hair to direct her mouth over her nipple or over her pussy, Helena was right. There wasn’t enough room here. And she wanted to get her hands and mouth on more of Helena too. “Couch,” she panted. “In my office.”
There was a moment of bereft chill, Helena’s lips, hands, and weight lifting off her body, but then Helena was hauling Celia up by both arms and bringing their lips back together.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” Celia teased against Helena’s lips.
Helena nipped her bottom one. “Your hot and soaked for me, and I’m the same for you.” She took one of Celia’s hands in hers and shoved it against her pussy, and fuck, even through the denim, Celia felt the heat and dampness. “I’ve been this way since Friday. Fuck, longer. I was trying to stay away, trying to keep you safe, but I want you. I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you.”
“You’re gonna owe so much money to the swear jar after this,” Celia muttered as they staggered into the neighboring bay. She shrugged the rest of the way out of the top of her coveralls, and as soon as the garment fell around her waist, Helena grabbed the hem of her tank and yanked it up and off. She expected Helena’s mouth to collide again with hers, but instead it landed on the swell of her right breast, warm breath and a wet tongue teasing Celia through black lace. Knees weak, Celia flung out a hand and caught herself on the hood of the SS. Taking full advantage, Helena caught both her wrists and held them wide, exposing all of Celia’s front to her mouth. She kissed and licked a path from one breast to the other, sucking each nipple through the lace cups, the heat and friction bringing Celia close to the edge.
Celia wanted to vault up onto the hood of the Chevelle and throw her legs over Helena’s hips. Or better yet, splay herself out on it, but there had to be some limits. “This is Whiskey Walker’s SS,” she managed between gasps. “We can’t fuck on the hood.”
Helena shoved a thigh between her legs, pressing up against her aching center. “He’s a friend. He’ll understand.”
“This might be a bridge too far.” Celia bore down on Helena’s thigh, chasing the friction, even as she tugged against the hands around her wrists. “And I want to touch you too.”
That was enough to get Helena moving again, and after a few more heated moments—against the sink where Celia quickly washed up, Helena’s hands dancing all over her as she did; against the door to the interior part of the garage where Celia rid Helena of her sweater and got her first sight of pert porcelain breasts encased in blue satin and her first taste of soft lavender-scented skin above the satin cups; and against the hallway wall outside Celia’s office where Helena slipped her hands inside the back of Celia’s pants and dug her nails into Celia’s ass cheeks, eliciting a deep and hungry groan—they finally made it into Celia’s office. Where the hottest moment yet found Celia facing her desk as Helena finished stripping her out of her coveralls.
Celia expected to turn around and finish stripping Helena too, to stumble over to the couch against the far wall and tangle their limbs together, but before Celia could do any of that, before she could even catch her breath, Helena glided a hand over her hip and inside her pants.
She stopped halfway to where Celia wanted her touch most. “You been tested recently?”
Celia nodded. “I’m okay. You?”
“I’m good too. Now, where was I…” She dipped her hand lower, shoved aside the thong, and slid two fingers between her slick folds on either side of her clit.
A direct indirect hit that stole Celia’s breath.
“Fuck, Cee,” Helena mouthed against the back of her shoulder. “You feel so good.” Her other hand cupped Celia’s breast holding her upright. Holding her exposed. She hadn’t let herself be this open, this vulnerable, with Dex in at least a decade. Feared it even. But with Helena, she’d never felt so wanted or sexy.
Or safe.
She covered Helena’s hand over her breast and squeezed, the fact they were fondling her together ramping her higher. “You feel good too. Wanna feel more.”
Helena released her, but Celia was too hot to feel a chill this time, and she trusted Helena would be right there when she turned around. The sight that greeted her was even better—Helena unbuttoning and lowering her jeans, revealing satin underwear that matched the blue of her bra. Celia moved to lower her pants too, but Helena stopped her. “No, leave them on. You in that bra and those tight-ass pants is incredibly sexy.”
“But there’s a thong under here,” Celia muttered against her lips as they edged toward the couch.
“I know. Fucking lace. Does it match the bra?”
Celia smiled.
Growling, Helena gave her a light shove and Celia fell into the couch cushions. “If I see that,” Helena said as she lowered her weight onto Celia’s thighs, “I won’t be able to stop myself, and the first time I eat you out, I want it to be on a bed where I can spread you out on cotton sheets and fucking feast.”
Celia’s eyes fluttered closed and she dropped her head back on the cushions, the image Helena had put in her mind too erotic to bear. “Holy fuck. I’d always thought about the gym mats, but that works too.”
Helena dragged a damp finger up her neck to her chin, drawing Celia’s gaze back upright. “Look what you do to me, Cee.” Her eyes flicked down, and Celia followed her gaze. With Helena straddling her, legs spread, her soaked satin underwear were on full display. She hadn’t been lying, and Celia felt her own swell of pride. She’d done that. After years of being told she was no longer sexy, no longer attractive, that she was used up and not worth the time anymore, the sexiest person she knew was straddled across her thighs and soaking wet. For her.
“Yeah, baby,” Helena said. “You did that.” She inched the tip of her finger between Celia’s parted lips. The flavor on Helena’s fingertip was sharp and musky, with only the faintest scent of lavender. Celia had no doubt Helena had touched herself while Celia’s eyes had been closed and now she was tasting Helena on her tongue, and fuck did she want more of that, but she wanted to touch first.
She reached a hand toward Helena’s underwear, then hesitated, suddenly shy and nervous. She’d never done this before with anyone but a man, and only one man at that.
“You know exactly what to do.” Helena leaned forward and gave her an encouraging kiss. “You know what feels good.” She put her hand down Celia’s pants again, moved aside the thong, and nestled her fingers between her folds.
Celia mimicked the motion, pushing Helena’s briefs aside and gliding the tips of her fingers through short coarse hairs on the way to warm enticing wetness. “Oh fuck. Helena that feels…”
“So good,” Helena groaned. She rolled her hips and rode Celia’s fingers, creating her own friction and giving Celia an even better tour of her hot, slick pussy.
Celia sank farther into the cushions, canting her hips and drawing Helena closer. Helena braced a hand behind her on the back of the couch, and Celia cupped her breast. The weight in her hand was perfect as were the goosebumps that rose on Helena’s skin. Wanting to feel and see more, she dipped her fingers into the cup and lifted out her breast.
“Pinch it,” Helena said.
Celia rolled the rosy nipple between her thumb and forefinger, then pinched, and Helena’s back bowed. More wetness covered Celia’s fingers where they continued to slide between Helena’s labia. She followed the source of heat and her own curiosity and desire and sank a finger inside Helena.
So hot, so tight, and Helena m
ade it more so, clenching her muscles. “That’s it, Cee. Fuck me.”
She pumped one, then two fingers inside Helena, faltering momentarily as Helena sank two fingers inside her. It only took a couple seconds for them to get into a rhythm together, the roll of their hips and their touches in sync.
Celia drew back enough to admire the woman astride her lap. Her strong body, the attractive blush spread across her porcelain skin, the beads of sweat that dotted her hairline, all that sex-tousled hair.
“Like what you see?”
Celia’s gaze returned to Helena’s lust-darkened one. “Yeah, I like it a lot.”
“You know what I want to see?”
“What’s that?” Celia panted.
“You come.” Helena thrust her fingers inside Celia, once, twice more, then dragged them up to circle her clit. Once, twice again, then she pressed directly against the aching bundle of nerves. Celia shouted as her orgasm ripped through her, shocks of heat and pleasure pulsing from her center all the way out to her fingers and toes.
Including the ones inside Helena, whose muscles fluttered around them. She was on the same cliff Celia had just toppled over, and Celia wanted Helena there with her in the pleasurable afterglow. Angling her thumb, she found Helena’s clit and gave it a few rough passes.
Helena bucked hard and dropped her forehead onto Celia’s shoulder. “Almost there,” she panted. “Make me come, Cee.”
Celia curled the fingers inside her and swiped her thumb once more over Helena’s clit. That was all it took. Helena rode out her orgasm with her teeth lightly biting Celia’s shoulder.
Celia knew it was over when teeth became lips, gently kissing across her collarbone until Helena was nuzzling the crook of her neck. Who would have thought Helena Madigan was a cuddler? Celia angled her head, likewise nuzzling Helena’s temple. “Thank you,” Celia whispered. “That was the best orgasm I’ve had since I can’t remember when. Maybe ever.”
Helena chuffed and lolled her head on Celia’s shoulder, glancing up at her through the errant blond strands that fell across her face. It was the single hottest look that had ever been cast Celia’s way. And the words that followed only ramped up the temperature. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started.”
Chapter Sixteen
Helena darkened her tablet screen, which in turn darkened the projection screen at the front of the conference room where she stood. To her right, Avery hit the switch to deactivate the blackout glass on the interior and exterior windows, letting back in the soft light of MCS’s executive floor and the muted gray of another rainy January day.
Helena set her tablet on the end of the conference table and tugged the lapels of her leather jacket closed, buffering against the imaginary winter chill the gloomy outside brought. “That’s the current slate of contracts,” she said to the gathered captains and lieutenants. “Everyone clear on marching orders?”
The operatives nodded, a few absently as they continued to scroll through the more detailed assignments on their individual tablets.
“It’s good work, boss,” Avery said.
“She’s right,” Elisabeth, another lieutenant, chimed in. “This is the work we should be doing.”
At her side, Malik, a captain, nodded. “Worth the roadshow, for sure.”
“Thank you all for holding the fort while I was on the move.” She claimed the chair next to Avery. “I’ve got a few recruitment targets lined up as well. I’ll push those through to your tablets as soon as Holt finishes the background checks. Take a look. See if you or any of your soldiers have connections, and if you want to help me with our pitch to them, let me know.”
“Is that what Holt’s been so busy with?” Connor, on the other side of Avery, asked.
“Unfortunately not.” All eyes shot to her. “Which is the last agenda item I need to discuss with you. Some of you have already been brought in on this, but all of you need to be up to speed. You’re all aware that Chris’s family owns an auto body shop in North Beach?”
“Yeah, the best in the city,” Grant, another junior captain, said. “My dad got his vintage ’Vette restored there.”
“I want pictures,” Helena told him, then addressed the larger group again. “I was at the shop on Friday with Chris’s sister, Celia, when there was a drive-by shooting.”
“Who was the target?” Connor asked.
“We’re working on that determination. Celia’s ex-husband was not a good man, and the company he kept was even worse. The drive-by could have been a warning or retribution connected to him.” She moved to tap her nails and covered the tick by drumming them on the table instead. “Or to us.”
“But aren’t we square with everyone?” Alice gestured with her tablet. “This looked like it.”
“By all accounts we are, but we can’t discount the fact it might be someone testing our new structure, which means they might test you and your soldiers too. Eyes and ears open and report anything suspicious.”
“Copy that,” Malik said.
“Okay, that’s it. Keep me posted on your ops.” As operatives around the table stood, Helena locked eyes with each of her lieutenants. “A minute, please.”
Avery, Victoria, Alice, and Elisabeth hung back while the captains filed out and back to their third-floor offices, executive support staff as far as the public and the first and second floor Madigan Cold Storage employees knew.
“You didn’t tell them about Ferriello or the Bratva,” Victoria said.
“Fuck,” Elisabeth cursed, and Alice whistled low. “That’s who you think this is?”
“Those are two of the three places where our organization’s work and Dex’s less than stellar associates intersect,” Helena said. “We should know more in the next couple days. Until then, keep an extra close eye on any connections or moves that affect us, particularly as it concerns the Bratva.”
“Why didn’t you tell the group as a whole?” Alice asked.
“Because if this isn’t the Russian mob, I don’t want to raise the alarm and purposefully or accidentally start anything with them. No reason to stir shit up, especially from our end. Our contact there has been briefed and she’s on standby if we need to escalate matters. Hawes is working the Ferriello angle.”
“And the third person?” Elisabeth asked.
“In jail. He may be connected, but obviously, it’s unlikely he was the shooter.” She stood and her lieutenants with her. “When information solidifies, I’ll brief the group again.”
“That’ll work,” Alice said, and Elisabeth nodded too.
There was a knock on the door, and Hawes stuck his head inside the room. “Need you,” he said to Helena.
One look and she knew something was wrong. Her heart leapt into her throat, worry for Celia slamming into her. A more acute version of the worry that had kept her up half the night—Was she putting Celia in danger?—the other half the night full of fantasies stoked by the real life one from yesterday—Could she pull away now even if she knew she should?
“Go,” Avery said, sensing the urgency too. “We’ll make sure the operatives are square.”
She caught up with Hawes halfway to the hall of executive offices. “Celia?”
“Fine. At the shop with Chris.”
She let out a held breath. “What’s going on, then?”
“Oak was trying to reach you. When he couldn’t, he called Holt.”
“Something’s happened?”
“You could say that,” Hawes said, grim-faced as they passed his and Chris’s offices. They turned into Holt’s office, and on one of the monitors of Holt’s full command setup, Oak stood under an umbrella, the collar of his long wool trench turned up, outside of San Quentin State Prison.
“Oak,” she said. “What’s going on?”
He shouted over the pouring rain. “Michael Griffin is dead.”
The floor didn’t fall out from under her, but it was a near thing. She flailed out a hand for the closest chair back, the one her brother sat in. “What the fu
ck?”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Oak sighed, the video call window wobbling. “I came out here to meet with him, like we talked about, and found out he was murdered last night.”
“Murdered?” Hawes said.
Oak nodded. “Strangled in his cell.”
“Fuck,” Helena cursed. “Do they have any idea who?”
“Still investigating,” he said. “I did confirm he was here Friday. He wasn’t your shooter. But that’s all I’ve got. You’re gonna have to get the rest of your answers another way.”
“If you learn anything else about what happened there,” Hawes said, “let us know.”
“Will do.” He hung up, and Helena sank into the chair next to Holt. “Two guesses who executed that hit.”
“Only need one,” Holt said. “The Ferriellos don’t have any known associates in there.”
“But the Bratva do.” She put both elbows on the desk and hung her head in her hands, fingers clutching the roots of her hair. “Fuck! This is us.”
Holt gently clasped her shoulder. “We don’t know that, Hena. Lenny is in the middle of this, and he’s connected to Dex.”
“Wait,” she said, lifting her head. “Lenny?”
He withdrew his hand and his fingers flew across the keyboard, another screen flickering to life. “Surveillance footage from the storage facility.” On it, a generic four-door sedan pulled in front of a garage-sized unit. The passenger door opened and out stepped Lenny. A minute later, Lenny drove out the Charger that had shot up the shop.
“How the fuck do Michael and Lenny know each other?”
“Still digging.”