Duplicity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance

by H. D. Thomson

  “John, please . . .”

  He tugged the wisp of lace from around her hips and let it fall to the carpet. She kicked it aside as he edged deeper between her legs.

  Right then and there, she thought she was going to die from anticipation.

  “Please what?” he whispered, inches away from her skin.

  “Please...”

  John dipped his head between her legs and lapped, then suckled her clitoris. She inhaled sharply and dug her nails into his shoulders. Ever so slowly, he eased away while he kneaded and squeezed her buttocks.

  “What...” He kissed her inner thigh. “...was that you said?”

  “Please don’t...” She gasped as he slipped a finger inside. “...stop.”

  The last word was ripped from her lips, but John didn’t let up. He relentlessly used his mouth, his hands, his tongue.

  Katherine’s body tensed from the inside out. Then the pleasure hit, powerful and mind-numbing, and she was shuddering, crying out his name, and climaxing against his mouth. Before her legs buckled from under her, John rose, swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed where he laid her tenderly down on the mattress.

  With her body still shaky and weak, Katherine rose on one elbow. John stood with a knee on the edge of the mattress. Raw sexual awareness smoldered within his slate dark as she rolled onto her hands and knees and prowled toward him.

  “It’s your turn,” she whispered in a husky voice.

  Katherine wasn’t going to play around. She wanted him as excited as she’d been moments before. She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his engorged penis. When her hand glided over his balls, he jerked into her mouth and caught her head in his hands.

  “My, God, Katherine. You’re tongue—”

  She loved the way his voice shook with desire and urgency, the way his hands trembled in her hair, and the way his flesh quivered beneath her touch. To have this much power over a man, to have John shaking with such need sent a new wave of desire rolling through her body.

  Slowly, she slipped her mouth from around his erection and kissed the tip. “Lie down.”

  “No. We should stop.”

  “You won’t hurt me. We’ll use the belts.”

  She ran a hand over the hard line of his hip and looked up into his heated gaze. When it seemed like he wasn’t going to give in, she bent and licked slowly up the base to the tip of his penis.

  This time John didn’t argue but sank onto the pillows. When she found both belts, she lifted his hands above his head and tied a belt to each wrist and thick wooden bedpost. With each click and tug of the leather, Katherine’s own excitement rose.

  She eased back on her heels. She ran a hungry gaze over the taut lines of John’s body, finding it incredibly sexy having him tied up on her bed and—from appearances at least—completely in her power. He was perfectly formed, from his lean and tight muscled chest and flat stomach to his long, powerful legs and...erection, which thrust out from the dark hair at his groin.

  Katherine swallowed, suddenly intimidated. She wasn’t exactly the most experienced woman around and might even be considered inept at sex by some. But more than anything, this wasn’t some sexual game where she’d leave this encounter with her emotions intact.

  She loved John.

  Even all her uncertainty and fear, though, didn’t stop the compulsion to reach over and skim her fingers over the thick, length of him. His flesh, fiery hot against her palm, quivered and hardened even more beneath her touch.

  At John’s harsh intake of breath, Katherine looked up and met his heavy-lidded gaze. Beyond the heat of sexual awareness in his slate-gray eyes lay something that went far deeper. A new wave of emotion, intense and painful, seized her.

  Until now, she’d never realized this was just as serious to John. Nor had she understood just what power she had over him.

  Holding his gaze, she straddled his hips and slid on the condom. She watched the corded muscles along his neck tense, the tendons across his chest, forearms and shoulders strain as she slowly, ever so slowly took him inside her, inch by incredible inch. He lifted his buttocks off the mattress and pressed deeper.

  She cried out at the sheer pleasure, and her knees clamped harder against his hips.

  “Touch yourself.”

  At his urgent command, she cupped and caressed her breasts and watched John’s eyes darken with hunger and his chest shudder. She was turning him on. But even though it thrilled her, she craved the touch of his hand, his lips, the warmth of his arms around her. She closed her eyes and slid her hands over her stomach, her hips and between her legs, imagining they were John’s hands on her instead.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  John’s husky baritone washed over her as she flung back her head and let desire take over every thought and action. She closed her eyes and slowly, surely rode him, barely aware of the creak or movement of the mattress beneath their weight.

  At the sound of cracking and tearing, Katherine paused and opened her eyes. John had pulled the leather belts from the bedposts. With the leather still wrapped around his wrists, John sat up, caught her around the waist and wrapped her legs around his hips. Katherine whimpered and grabbed his shoulders. Thighs splayed, she arched into his thrust. Stretching her even wider than before, he twisted his hips in a way that rubbed against her clitoris and pulled a cry of pleasure from her lips.

  “I tried. I just couldn’t keep away,” he whispered, brushing the damp strands of her hair from her neck before sliding his hand lower to trail an imaginary line around the curve and underside of her breast. He lowered his hand yet further. “I love how you’re so sensitive, the way your stomach quivers from my touch.”

  She looked down to his hand, fingers spread out against her pale skin, and how her stomach trembled beneath his palm. The way they were joined so intimately, the feel of him inside her, the touch of his mouth against the curve of her neck—everything—made her simply melt.

  Closing her eyes, Katherine reveled in the feel of his mouth, his tongue, of his hard body against her softer curves, of how he whispered those little love words in her hair. His lips were incredibly gentle against her neck, her shoulder as he used strong, capable hands on her back, her flank, her hip, kneading, stroking, urging her faster, harder.

  With each incredible thrust of his hips, Katherine cried out in pleasure. She clutched at his sweat-coated shoulders and back. The tempo quickened, pushed her on, closer, closer until she was coming, shattering in his arms. Then John was right behind her, clasping her hips, shuddering, calling out her name.

  Groaning, John sank back on the mattress and pulled her down along with him. Katherine sprawled on top of his chest, tangled her legs with his, and sighed with pure contentment. She rested a cheek against his very big, very hard shoulder.

  “I told you so,” she said with a smile, feeling completely wicked as she watched John tug off the broken belts from around his wrists. “You didn’t hurt me a bit. All your fears were groundless.”

  “You know, I don’t like getting the standard ‘I told you so’.”

  Katherine pulled away and gaped at John’s grim expression. Suddenly grabbing her at the waist, he flipped her on her back, propped his head up with a hand and he glared down at her.

  “I won’t stand for it.”

  The guy was nuts. Katherine’s mouth gaped wider before she snapped it shut. “If you think you can talk to me in that—”

  “Nope. No talking back. You’ve been rude and now you need to be punished.”

  Then John struck. He moved in on her ribs with lightning speed. His fingers, gentle but relentless, tickled her sides.

  The moment he found the spot beneath her armpits, Katherine broke into uncontrollable laughter and squirmed wildly around on the bed.

  “Stop—” Another fit of giggles hit. “Stop!”

  He stopped—for the moment. This time, it was John who had the decidedly wicked smile. “Promise me you’ll never tell me ‘I told you
so’ again?”

  “I promise!” She gulped in a mouthful of air.

  “Good.” He had the audacity to tweak her nose. “Now that I’ve got you thoroughly breathless, I’ll leave you to rest up for a bit. I need to clean up and have a shower before I use another one of your condoms. I think we’ll try one of the flavored ones.”

  “You wish!” Rising on an elbow, she flung a pillow at his back before he disappeared into the bathroom, while his deep, throaty chuckle drifted back to her.

  Smiling, Katherine plopped her head back against her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. She needed to take a shower, but she wanted to savor this feeling of pure, inundated happiness. With John she felt feminine, incredibly sexy, smart—she could go on and on. And with all that latent strength, John still managed to be incredibly tender.

  Far too quickly the muffled noise of a door closing from another townhouse forced Katherine to acknowledge the reality of the outside world, and with that reality, happiness, fleeting yet extraordinary, withered. They could only stay in her apartment and ignore the danger from her uncle for so long.

  When she heard the water turn on, she slipped from the bed. As she stepped into the bathroom, she watched John showering in the cubical. Memories rushed back of how she’d walked in on him in another bathroom. Since then, everything and nothing had changed.

  John’s life and the lives of the kids at the shelter were still at risk. She also had a new love and an unexpected glimpse of happiness, which terrified her, because both could be ripped away before she even had the opportunity to appreciate either.

  When she slipped inside and closed the shower door, John, rinsing his hair, stepped from under the water.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Everything. For a moment, I managed to forget the shelter, my uncle, all of it. Being with you was perfect, but now—”

  “I know.”

  “And I still have so many questions. I got completely distracted when that car backfired and you ran outside.” She trailed a finger along his temple. “Like the name you used. Clark Kent. Why that name? It’s almost like a joke when you think of what you can do and the resemblance to the character.”

  John’s lips lifted into a wry smile. “It was a running joke at work. At one point, I thought ‘what the heck.’ If everyone thought I looked so much like Clark Kent, I’d give them a show. I replaced my wire-rimmed glasses with a pair of black, thick-framed ones, slicked back my hair and wore these god-awful polyester suits for a while.”

  “So that explains those ugly glasses you had.”

  John raised a brow and tweaked her nose. “I didn’t think they were so ugly. The hair and the suit—now that was ugly. But anyway, my co-workers had to do one better by getting me a fake driver’s license with the name of Clark Kent. I’d annoy the hell out of them when they’d be having a particularly difficult time reading an X-ray. I’d run into their department, all smiles, wearing my glasses and flashing my fake license, and tell them I’d save their sorry asses, because I was a superhero, ready to save the day.”

  John’s smile turned sad, and his eyes darkened to smoky gray. “But that’s the past. They’re all gone now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Katherine whispered, edging closer and sliding a palm tenderly against his damp cheek as the shower’s warm mist hung in the air around them.

  Briefly, he closed his eyes. “Yes, well...” He cleared his throat and blinked twice. ““Anyway... I got rid of the suit and the slicked hair, but I kept the license and glasses. After the experiments on myself, I didn’t need a prescription, but I changed the lenses to glass and continued wearing them. I didn’t want anyone suspecting what I was up to.”

  “All this time you’ve had no one to turn to or trust.” Katherine shook her head in amazement. “You’ve gone through so much—”

  “No more than you,” John said, his voice rough with emotion, his expression intense. “But you’re wrong about not having anyone to trust. There’s always been you.”

  This time it was Katherine who blinked several times. It wasn’t the shower’s steam that made her eyes mist over but John’s unfailing belief in her.

  “And we’ll come out of this on top.” John brushed his lips across her brow. “That’s a promise.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so.”

  Katherine wished she could sound and look as confident, but the future held too many uncertainties.

  “It’ll be okay, you’ll see,” John assured her one last time before he gathered her into his arms and held her under the water’s warm spray.

  With slow and incredibly soothing hands, he first shampooed and conditioned her hair, and then washed her body. After he grabbed a towel from the rack and dried the moisture from her torso and limbs, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to bed.

  John turned off all the lights, double checked the locks, closed all the blinds and finally joined her. Beneath a cocoon of darkness, Katherine snuggled under the covers and against the comforting, warmth of John’s body.

  “I don’t want you leaving my side tomorrow,” John’s whisper ruffled the fine hairs by her brow.

  Even though John’s face and body melded into shadow, she heard the fear in his voice.

  “I have that gala event for my mother. That’s something I can’t miss. Everyone would get suspicious if I didn’t make an appearance. I always show my support by going to my mother’s events.”

  John sighed, but after a moment, he said, “Actually, that’ll probably be the safest place for you. I’ll meet up with you later in the evening after I get into your mother’s headquarters and pull those files. You’ve already found sufficient evidence to incriminate your mother, but we need leverage against your uncle. There’s got to be something more. But with what you’ve found—if any of it gets out and the police are notified, a criminal investigation will result.”

  At the hesitation in his voice, Katherine realized the implication and how her mother would be ruined politically and personally. Panic twisted her stomach into a tight knot. “I need to know the truth.”

  “And if it’s worse than you imagined?”

  Feeling torn, Katherine struggled for an answer. “I guess I’ll have to deal with it then.”

  “You might know everything by tomorrow.” John’s husky warning hung in the air as he slid a reassuring hand along her arm. “But we’ll get through this. Together. I’ll always be there for you. I love you.”

  His last words whispered against her brow as he tenderly kissed her temple. Katherine closed her eyes and pressed deeper into the crook of his arm.

  “I love you, too. And you’re right. We’ll get through this...”

  But how would she feel tomorrow in the harsh light of day? No longer a little girl who believed in fairy tales, Katherine knew real life rarely involved happy endings.

  She dreaded the morning. With the death of Miranda, she’d thought she’d lost her innocence, but now she wasn’t so sure. Within twenty-four hours, she might lose far more...

  Chapter 30

  Hunched over Sharon Spalding’s desk, John slowly closed her top drawer. A noise, short and faint, carried through the building and into the office. John snapped off his penlight, straightened and glanced over his shoulder at the blackened doorway leading into the hall.

  Must be the wind hitting the shattered window and damaged wall.

  Earlier, using the cloud filled night as camouflage, he’d searched the outside premises of Sharon’s political headquarters for a way to bypass the building’s security system. Suspecting the window at the back of the building, too small for a human body to slip through, lacked an alarm, John had broken the glass. He’d used the gap as leverage and pulled the brick and cement from the wall. Then careful of his formal dinner suit and winter jacket he wore for later in the evening, he’d slipped through the opening and found himself in a restroom.

  Another sound.

  John froze. A scrape. A small shuffle.
No. Not the wind. Something far different.

  Glancing to the files on Sharon’s desk, John decided to leave them for now. He crept across the carpeted floor and listened over the pounding of his heart.

  Breathing. A footstep.

  John moved into the hall, which led to the back of the building. Up ahead lay a doorway and deeper shadows, but John remembered walking through a luncheon area. Alert now, he peered into the darkness and focused past the doorway. Separating and deciphering the shadows from each other, he made out a counter across the wall, a microwave and the edge of a chrome table and chair.

  But no movement.

  Yet.

  He inched further down the hall, hearing the rustle of clothing, a harsh whisper, quick, agitated breathing. A person stood behind the partially opened back door.

  “Someone’s broken in.”

  John froze. He’d heard that voice before.

  “You should see the wall,” the man whispered. “It looks like someone took a chainsaw to the thing. It’s got to be him. Who else? I’m not going inside—”

  The person must be on a cell phone; John didn’t detect anyone else as he moved across the lunchroom. And that voice...

  “Well, what if it’s him?” The man swore under his breath. “Yeah, okay, okay. You’ve made your point.”

  John edged along the wall and closer to the back entrance.

  “All right, already.” The man muttered another four-letter word. “I’ll deal with everything here, but you said yourself that you’d take care of your end tonight. We all know the scientist’s hard to kill off, but she isn’t.”

  Each word, each syllable whispered into the room but screamed into John’s brain. John clutched the wall. Horror slammed into him, splintering his thoughts, numbing his limbs, and crushing his chest with the sheer weight of it.

  They planned on killing Katherine tonight.

  The door eased open. A man stepped inside.

  Still off-balance at the man’s words, John reacted slowly, awkwardly. He pushed off the wall with the heel of his hand.

  The intruder turned. John instantly recognized him as the man in Spalding’s house the day he’d stolen inside the estate. Jason, he recalled—Spalding’s weak-chinned, hooked-nosed henchman, a tall, bony man, who didn’t look like he’d be physically capable of harming a microorganism, never mind a person.