by Kells, India
With his fingers, he spread her lips and quickly discovered her hard little clit poking from under its hood. Her excitement had reached a peak, and when he used his thumb and forefinger to stroke it like a little cock, the effect was immediate. Orla’s knees buckled as she screamed. Sam used his other arm to keep her upright but continued until he’d drawn every single drop of pleasure from her. He circled and pinched her nub, prolonging her orgasm and only when he couldn’t hold back any longer he pressed his palm hard over her sex and his yell mingled with hers.
His hips twisted and pushed out of sync with hers as his cock was milked in the most incredible way as if her body never wanted him to leave. His own strength started to waver while pleasure filled every crack of his being.
When the white dots stopped filling his vision, Sam shook his head and loosened his hold. Still deep inside her, he used his hands on her hips to slowly disengage while preventing her from falling face-first on the pavement, helping her lean on the pillar as she regained her breath.
Sam knew loitering would be dangerous, both for them and his identity, so he quickly removed the condom and tied it up before shoving it in his pocket and pulling his pants up. Slight dizziness remained, pleasure still hovering on his skin, but he knew he had to push it away.
With gentle hands, he helped Orla get herself back together. When Sam was certain she was steady enough, he stepped back, but she was quick to grab hold of his sleeve and pull him close for a kiss.
This one was that much sweeter, laced with something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
It was Orla who let him go first. “That was the worst idea ever, wasn’t it?”
He chuckled as he grabbed his discarded gloves and took one last look at Orla, with her satisfied expression as she leaned against the pillar, before silently vanishing in the shadows.
Chapter Seven
Her cell phone buzzed beside her bed, and Orla resisted the temptation to throw it against the wall. With too few hours of sleep, her body felt like she’d run a marathon, but she knew that going back to sleep wasn’t an option. It wasn’t until she stepped into the shower with the coldest water temperature she could stand, that her brain got into gear, and memories of the previous night came back. The investigation, the bar, the explosion, the sex.
She cringed and turned the water even colder as she remembered the way she’d acted, like a bitch in heat at the hands of a man who was not only a killer but a complete stranger. What had got into her? The cold water stung, but she remained under the spray, part in atonement, part in hope the cold would bring her back to her senses. Arousal heated her skin as she replayed her encounter with the Vigilante in her mind——how hard he was, his taste in her mouth, how he throbbed under her tongue, but especially how he pummeled her as she held on for her life and sanity. She enjoyed sex, but the mix of danger and dominance from this mysterious lover reached another scale.
With her skin tingling and pink, Orla pushed that thought away before leaving the shower, drying herself and dressing quickly. She had a date she didn’t want to miss, and that would no doubt put her straying thoughts back in order.
Luckily, the spot Damon Evans chose wasn’t too far away and despite the morning traffic, she got there in record time. Her new car had more torque than she initially gave it credit for, and was more fun to drive than her old one.
That unexpected gift raised more questions, but the vigilante had destroyed her car after all, so why should she refuse a replacement? She needed a car, and this one was so boring and nondescript, it almost disappeared among the other cars on the road. It was something Orla particularly appreciated. Often she needed to remain unseen and unnoticed in her job.
The sun shining brightly over the city made her head ache, but she believed a strong cup of coffee and food would get her thoughts straight. There wasn’t another choice in the matter as she knew full well she wouldn’t get another chance to talk to the Storm Wayfarers’ president anytime soon if she screwed it up.
At least the restaurant had a parking lot, and from the look of the shiny Harley already parked there, Evans had arrived. When she entered, the place was lively, and the sun streaming through the large windows gave the space a cheery look. The dark wood and pale blue-green walls gave warmth and personality to the place. Orla had almost expected a hole in the wall, but the biker had other tastes. As a matter of fact, the man was already enjoying his morning brew at a small table in the far corner of the restaurant. With his back to the wall, he looked relaxed, but his roaming eyes gave him away. The man was on high alert, and she couldn’t fault him for it.
When he saw her, his smile broadened, and it was impossible not notice him checking out her body, despite not being dressed for seduction. On the contrary, with her muscles aching still, Orla had picked items that were comfortable—an old pair of faded jeans and a dusky pink sweater that was soft as butter. With her usual canvas jacket and her hair down, it wasn’t her best look, but Evans didn’t seem to mind.
He stood when she walked to the table and even pulled out her chair, which was unexpected, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. “I didn’t realize I was late. Have you been waiting long?”
Resuming his seat, he winked. “Not at all. I prefer to arrive early to get the best spot.”
Immediately, the waitress arrived and offered her a coffee and the menu. Before checking what was written, she looked around. “I wouldn’t have pictured you in this kind of place.”
Evans looked up from his menu. “Don’t tell me you’re the kind of woman who judges a book by its cover?”
Instead of immediately answering, she doctored her coffee and took a sip. The initial scald helped her get her thoughts in order. “What I mean is it’s very familiar and charming, in a quaint neighborhood. I expected more of a greasy spoon. Is it for my benefit, or is it your usual spot?”
He put his menu down and leaned forward as if to tell her a secret, but his boyish smile gave everything away. “I come here for one reason, and one reason only. It’s my fix, my high. I can’t go more than a few weeks before I have the craving.”
“What is it?”
“The white chocolate and caramel pretzel pancakes.” The man all but drooled when he said the words reverently as if they were the most sacred things in the world. “I love sweets, and this is over the top, magnificent, delicious... very few things in life top it.”
Highly amused, Orla leaned back in her seat and sipped her coffee. “I don’t know you well, but from the expression on your face, I think you just came in your pants.”
The man blinked a few times before roaring with laughter. She didn’t have to look to guess that most of the customers were looking in their direction, and this man didn’t seem to mind.
“I only do that when I have the first bite but don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you. I’ve learned to orgasm very quietly when I’m in a restaurant, otherwise I would’ve been kicked out for good, and I don’t think I would’ve survived the deprivation.”
Orla shook her head at his antics. Damon Evans was one of the most feared men in the city, but this side of him was charming and amusing.
The waitress came again, refilled their coffees and took their orders. As expected, Evans ordered his pancakes, but she wasn’t sure she’d survive such a sugar rush. Instead, she opted for the strawberry and banana hotcakes. At least they contained fruit in them.
With at least half a cup of caffeine in her system, her brain grounded into gear. “The situation at the bar kept you busy last night?”
His gorgeous face didn’t show any sign of bruises, cuts, or burns. “Don’t know what happened exactly. Started with an innocent brawl with another known MC, and before we knew what happened, they started an invasion and a car was blown up.”
“Innocent brawl? Is that what you call that?”
He licked his lips and shrugged. “It was. Sorry if it hurt your sensitivities.”
That condescending tone raised her hackles. “After
stints in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria, my sensitivities, as you put it, are long gone. However, the only thing I learned was that I don’t like a bullet in me and tend to avoid situations where that’s a possibility. Thanks for throwing me over the bar, although when I escaped, two men held me at gunpoint.”
It was a gamble to see if the men who’d stopped her and were later killed by the vigilante were Evans’ or not, so she skirted the facts a little.
But it was amusement she detected first on his face. “I’ve learned that said goons died, and from the force required, I doubt it was you. No offense. I did hear rumors of a strange, masked guy on site though. Did you see him?”
It was her turn to be amused, and she leaned back in her chair. “Someone did save my ass, and it wasn’t you. Although, when I think about it, you disappeared pretty quickly when the firefight began. You have the same height and build too. Besides running your little business, are you playing superhero at night on Chicago’s streets?”
What she’d said on the spur of the moment to amuse him made her think for a minute. Damon Evans was indeed the same height and build as the man who’d saved her the night before. Another piece of information was that he sported the same blond whiskers, although a shade lighter than what she’d detected in the dim light of the underground parking lot before the lights went out. At least when he’d had his half mask on. As for the voice, it was impossible for her to know for sure because of the electronic modifier. The only other bit of information was how he tasted, and it wasn’t something she could verify, and strangely that thought brought the heat to her face.
“I have too much to do already. And masks are for cowards. I’ll take down my enemies head-on, thank you very much.”
His last snarl turned into a smile at the sight of their breakfast. The dangerous man turned into a little boy as he looked down at his plate, and Orla was sidetracked for a moment. “Why do I think that if we weren’t in public, you’d just stuff your face in it.”
With a blink, she almost thought he would do it, but instead, he took his fork and knife and dug in. Orla followed suit and hummed in pleasure at the amazing taste of her hot cakes. The mascarpone topping was to die for, and she was ravenous.
They ate in silence, but it wasn’t weird. There was an unspoken truce that lasted until their bellies were full, their coffee cups were refilled, and the table cleared.
She wanted to bombard him with questions, get as much information she could from him as he sat close, but she knew if she pushed too hard, he’d close up, and that was definitely something she didn’t want.
It took a moment, and several more sips of coffee for Evans to finally tear his eyes from the street and turn to her, his voice low and menacing. “I never wanted that shit on my streets. I’ve heard the damage it can do and the death toll it brings with it. I entered a bid knowing I wouldn’t win, but I wanted to know who was in the race, and which one was most likely to win. I always want to know who my enemies are.”
The world around Orla vanished, her focus tunneling to the man sitting across from her. “Who won it?”
Evans looked around, scanning his surroundings before returning his attention to her. “That’s the thing. It’s not one of the usual players. And they were all represented from what I know. Not everyone came in person, but their representatives didn’t hide either. Most of the mafia bosses, all the biker clubs, street gangs even. And a few others that were less obvious.”
“What do you mean?”
Evans tapped his cup a few times with his forefinger, a sure sign he was debating how much to tell her. “Not the usual, everyday players. We all know each other at some level. But they were brand new players. They were from Chicago, as they said, but aren’t part of the usual circles. They had tons of money, and it was probably the reason why they won.”
Orla processed the information for a bit. “Money was the only reason? For winning I mean?”
“Money, confirmation that the product could be distributed throughout the area, and a guarantee the bidder had enough connections with the boys in blue to keep them in check.”
“Whoa. That’s no small requirement. Apart from your bunch, there can’t be many out there capable of pulling it off. Did you meet them?”
Evans nodded. “Once. Negotiations required leaders to meet at least one at a black-tie event. I try to avoid those where possible, but I wanted to know who the new bidders were more.”
And it would also be a show of strength, all of them flexing their muscles in a neutral gathering. No small feat by the organizers, whoever they were. “Who organized it?”
This time he put his mug down and shook his head. “I hope you never find out because if you do, it means you’re dead. And the thought of not seeing your pretty eyes again saddens me.”
It was clear that Orla needed to find another way in. Looking for the person in charge wasn’t the way to go. “Okay then, let’s say I don’t want to die right away, who won?”
“Polished, worldly, but not in a mafia way. Dangerous, well protected. One of my guys recognized a bodyguard as a hire from a mercenary group.”
“How did he know?”
He dismissed her question with a shrug. “What I understand is that if they came from the same source, it cost a shitload.”
“Gimme more, Evans. I need to reach the source. I need names or something that helps me find them.”
“They didn’t give away much. Only two men came to the reception, but I know there were more as they said they represented a private consortium. One called himself Mr. Black, the other Mr. White. They didn’t disclose anything personal from what I gathered, apart from being in the entertainment industry. They wanted to expand and reach new markets and decided Phantom was the way to do it. As a matter of fact, they’ve invited me to a private party tonight, which is probably a cover for Phantom’s launch.”
Orla’s reaction was immediate, and she reached for his wrist. It was a way to achieve her goal. “I’m going with you.”
Evans chuckled and snatched his hand back. “I have no intention of going. I’m in no mood to celebrate how this drug will impact so many people.”
“You have to go. Do it for me, for Chicago. Unless you have other information, another way to point me in their direction, it may be my only chance.”
Her heart thumping hard, it took everything in her not to jump on him and shake out an answer.
“It’s too dangerous. Tell the cops what I just told you and let them deal with it.”
“What proof do I have? You know that for anybody to act, I need more than what an MC president’s word. Damn, time is running out. You said it yourself, they’re probably launching this curse tomorrow. I need to at least try to contain it the best I can. Damn it, Evans. I’m begging here.”
The blonde biker angled his head. “You’re not searching for a story. You’re really trying to stop this. I admire your guts, but I’m no longer a free agent. If I step into something I can’t deal with, much more than myself is at risk.”
“I’m only asking you to get me through the doors and point me to the people I’m looking for. That’s it. Minimal risk for you. Almost none. As soon as I’m in, feel free to leave. I don’t need a shield, I need a way in, and you’re it.”
“You don’t know what’s behind that mirror, Alice. You’re asking me to put you in danger and do nothing about it? Damn, woman. You have a death wish. It’d be easier if you asked me to put a bullet in your head.”
“Come on, please. I’m begging here, and I never beg.”
He didn’t immediately answer as the waitress came with the bill. Evans paid for both of them, tossed the tip on the table, and grabbed his leather coat, heading for the door.
Orla followed, trying to come up with an argument that would convince him. She wanted it badly, but she wouldn’t offer anything she wasn’t willing to give. However, she guessed that with Damon Evans, money and sex came way too easy to be used as a bargaining chip.
Once besi
de his bike, Evans rolled his shoulders and looked around for a while, keeping Orla on her toes. “You know what? There must be a small remnant of that knight in shining armor in me. I’ll do it, but you’re in my debt until I decide otherwise.”
Orla wanted to jump for joy, but she crossed her arms at his reference to a debt. “I’m not going to do anything illegal for you, Evans. Ever. Nor will I sabotage my career on one of your whims.”
“Interesting you didn’t mention your reputation. But that’s fine with me. A woman like you is always useful to have nearby. I’ll call you as soon as I have all the details for tonight settled. Don’t worry about your outfit, I’ll send something. And I’ll pick you up. Keep your phone close.”
And before she could utter a single word or step away, one of his arms circled her waist, bringing her closer for a kiss.
Despite his grin, the embrace was inescapable and his lips possessive, edging on hard. The man was a talented kisser, no doubt about it, and she was about to let herself go a little when something popped in her mind—he didn’t taste or feel like the vigilante. Her brain overtook her body just as he released her. With a wink, he revved the throttle and disappeared in the blink of an eye.
How had she successfully placed a couple of pieces in the giant puzzle, yet the next minute, more pieces appeared?
Now, with a thundering heart at the idea she was getting closer to her goal, she headed home and hoped Evans was a man of his word. A lot rode on this flimsy trust between them.
Chapter Eight
Sam was glad the tracker he’d slid into Orla’s messenger bag had worked perfectly. It wasn’t a foolproof method, but it allowed him to return to base and keep an eye on her from afar. The distance was needed, especially with what had happened the night before.
Even though he’d thought long and hard about the reasons he’d fucked her like an animal in the underground parking area, Sam still couldn’t find a logical reason for his actions, apart from pure lust. He shook his head as he looked at the dot blinking on the screen as the woman made her way back to her apartment.