The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  His hands moved in conjunction with his tongue, both at a busying pace, and I found the anticipation exhilarating. My body was at ease with his hands, lips, tongue, and teeth all over it.

  Goose bumps rose on the bare skin of my hip bone when he passed over it and my body practically quaked when his finger started stroking my clit again. I bucked and wiggled beneath him when his warm breath teased me this time.

  Lightly, ever so lightly, he stroked me again. It was tantalizing. It was teasing. It was delicious torture.

  I found myself spreading my thighs as wide as I possibly could. I opened for him. Offered myself to him. And as soon as I did, he greedily took what was already his by sliding a finger inside of me and licking me with his tongue at the same time.

  His groans of appreciation aroused me even more. The fact that I could elicit pleasure from him while he was giving it to me still messed with my head. I couldn’t believe two people could be so in sync with one another.

  My belly jumped when he put his mouth right on me and I rocked my hips when he added another finger.

  “You like that?” he purred.

  “Yes,” I called out.

  His hands were on me, his mouth was all over me, his tongue in me, and when I started to buck beneath him he held me down, never once stopping the exquisite pleasure he was administering.

  If there was a heaven, I was in it. Every time with him brought new levels of pleasure and I was peaking once again. Up high above the clouds, stars burst behind my lids, pleasure shot through my veins. My legs tingled all the way to my toes, my arms all the way to my fingertips. He was my sun, my moon, and my rock-steady earth. I needed him in a way I knew I shouldn’t. It made me weak, but I couldn’t fight it. Instead I came beneath him and let the pleasure take me to that place I never wanted to leave.

  I cried out. “Oh God, Logan. It feels so good. Don’t stop.”

  I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted this feeling to be enough to take me through whatever was going to happen with Michael because I knew, down deep in my soul, it wasn’t going to be as easy as I wanted it to be. And I was going to take a piece of this with me to remind me not to trade my soul to the devil.

  Logan nuzzled me for a moment before moving back up to bury his face in my neck. It was as if he was cementing that small gift in my soul he’d just given me when he placed his hand on my heart. I, in turn, put mine over his and held it for the longest time.

  His erection was hot against my thigh and when I felt I could speak I told him, “Fuck me.”

  “Nothing I want to do more,” he responded in that voice that caused butterflies to take flight in my belly every time.

  He pinned my hips down and pushed the first few inches of his cock inside me. Ecstasy filled the room in the form of moans. He held me in place. Watched me as he thrust inside me a few more inches. Pleasure swept through me. I wanted him so much that I had to rock my hips to get more of him inside me. “More,” I breathed.

  Repositioning himself, he drove his cock in deeper. My legs wrapped around him and my ankles locked together at his back. He was pulsing inside me and I loved it. My fingers went to his scalp and I pressed them against it.

  The sounds of the sheets rustled beneath us. While he thrust all the way inside me, our movements were wild, wicked, out of control. Our stomachs slapping. Our eyes watching each other with such burning desire. In this moment, there was nothing else. Just him. And me. And the need to connect. To be one.

  I could tell we were both close. When his breathing became ragged and he was about to come, I found myself on the brink again as well. I arched my back to meet his thrusts. He moved faster. And then he shuddered at the same time I climaxed. We were perfectly in sync and we came together in the most beautiful way. It almost made me cry.

  The irony of it all was that we were made for each other, and who knew if we were going to be able to stay together. My conviction about my ability to fool Michael was waning and I knew if push came to shove, I’d do whatever I had to for Clementine.

  All I could do was hope it didn’t come to that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  LOGAN

  My father was on to me.

  I didn’t want to have to tell him what was going on, especially now that the stakes were higher and the DEA had threatened me. His life seemed less stressful and he was 120 days sober now. I worried that telling him I wasn’t out of danger might push him to drink.

  That was how I found myself speeding down the highway at seven in the morning. With Patrick put to rest since he was behind bars, I still had to investigate the Priest and Michael O’Shea, but I had to do so before and after office hours.

  One of the conversations that purposely didn’t make the table last night was that Miles had looked into www.evanmarks.com and it turned out it was a male escort service. Miles had found a charge on O’Shea’s credit card from that very site. How he got the credit card number beat the shit out of me. His brilliance far exceeded my knowledge of the Internet in any capacity, but I’d take whatever he could come up with.

  After verifying Michael’s identity with the male escort indicated on the credit card receipt, Miles arranged to meet with him. In exchange for divulging what had happened when he met with O’Shea, the escort wanted a twenty-four-hour stay at the Onyx near TD Garden, complete with two escorts of his choice—before he’d meet with us.

  I was happy to oblige.

  I hadn’t mentioned it to Elle yet because if it panned out like the last lead, it might give us nothing, and the last thing I wanted to do was burden her with more wasted shit about Michael, but I would tell her as soon as I left today. I had to. I had promised to keep her in the loop.

  I pulled up to the swanky boutique hotel and tossed the valet my keys. “I shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll keep it out front then, sir,” he responded when I handed him a C-note.

  That’s what I was hoping for. Time was of the essence. I had to get into the office by nine.

  I pushed through the revolving door and found Miles sitting in one of the plush red chairs. Red seemed to be a theme and I couldn’t help but think I should bring Elle here. There was a red bike in the lobby, red chairs, and specks of red in the black swirled carpeting. On second thought, it looked like the devil’s haven. “Hey, man, you ready?”

  Miles stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “He’s in room 423. I called up and told him we were on our way.”

  We started for the elevator. “I’m sorry if I was a dick last night,” I offered up.

  Miles pushed the up arrow. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’re under a lot of stress.”

  The doors opened and we stepped in. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “And don’t say the money. I can see how invested you are.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I almost died when I was shot in the line of duty and it changed my perspective on life. I no longer wanted to fight crime on the street because I realized it wasn’t only the bad guys who were getting hurt.”

  I nodded my head. He wasn’t wrong about that.

  “I look at it like this—some cards that are dealt are shit and if I can help someone who deserves it get a better hand, that’s what I’m going to do.”

  I offered my hand to him. “Thanks, man.”

  When he shook it, I drew him close and pounded his back. I was never one for affection until I met Elle and I still wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, but this just felt right. The doors opened and we dropped the contact. That was enough of that.

  I glanced up and saw a hooker and a tranny leaving a room. I glanced toward Miles. “I think that’s our room.”

  “And there goes what you paid for,” he huffed under his breath.

  I raised a brow. “Hope he’s happy enough to sing like a canary.”

  Miles laughed.

  I laughed too.

  Nothing was funny, but it felt good to find an ounce of humor in all this chaos.

&nb
sp; Before the door fully closed, Miles shoved his foot in between the door and the jamb.

  The dude opened the door and my eyes immediately went to the animal-print robe he was wearing.

  “You Derrick?” Miles asked.

  He pulled his robe closed to hide his junk. “That’s me.” He stepped to the side. “And you must be Miles.”

  He nodded. I preferred no introduction and Miles kept it that way.

  I stepped in and knew I was never bringing Elle here. Everything was trimmed in red, but the pillow on the bed that read “Wicked Smaht” sealed the deal. The pillows were decorated with a Boston accent?

  I walked over to the bathroom and glanced in. It was empty and I gave Miles a nod.

  He opened the closet. “Clear,” he said.

  I nodded again.

  “I’m alone,” Derrick said and flopped on the bed. “So how can I help you?”

  With my arms crossed, I leaned back against the red lacquered dresser.

  Miles took a seat in the chair opposite the bed. “Tell me what you know about Michael O’Shea.”

  The dude twisted his lips. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Miles looked annoyed as he pulled out his phone. “This guy.” He flashed Derrick a picture of O’Shea’s Facebook profile, and just the sight of his dark hair and icy blue eyes had me seeing double.

  Derrick looked hesitant.

  Frustrated, Miles went on. “It’s the same picture I sent you when I contacted you.”

  With his blond, chin-length hair falling forward, he slicked it back with his palms. “Yeah, right, that dude. I remember him.”

  Miles’s glare almost made me cringe. “You’d better. That’s why you’re here, to tell us what you know, not because we wanted to splurge on your sex life.”

  He straightened his spine and gave Miles a wry smile. “By the way, thank you for that.”

  If looks could kill, Derrick the dude would be dead. “Start talking,” Miles demanded impatiently.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “When did you meet with him?”

  He scratched his chin. “It was four, maybe six weeks ago.”

  “How did he contact you?”

  “Through my email on Evan Marks.”

  “What was the purpose of the email?”

  “He told me he was looking to watch his wife get off and that he wanted to tape it.”

  “He phrased it just like that?”

  He laughed. “No, I doubt it. He was much more uptight.”

  “What exactly did he ask you, then?”

  Derrick ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t remember his exact words, man. Something like he wanted to schedule an appointment for him and his wife, and was it okay with me if he taped the encounter.”

  “Do you still have the email?”

  “No. I can those daily.”

  Miles gave him a look.

  He shrugged. “Can’t take the chance of a scandal. You have to understand, I get contacted with messages like that all the time.”

  My stomach felt like iron bars and that someone had just clanged them.

  Miles sat up a little straighter himself. “Okay, so you see a lot people, and yet you remember Michael O’Shea?”

  The doubt was in his voice. I could tell he thought this guy was bullshitting us.

  “His eyes, man. They were icy blue, almost haunted. Kind of gave me the creeps.”

  Miles seemed to believe him then. “Okay, so what happened?”

  “I met them in a hotel room and he sat in a chair like you are in right now and never got up, and I mean never got up. His wife answered the door, his wife and I got it on, and she walked me to the door afterwards. He watched and didn’t even jerk off.”

  Miles still had his phone in his hand. “Is this the woman that was with him?”

  Derrick nodded in confirmation.

  This meant it was Lizzy with O’Shea during the time she was supposedly missing.

  Miles glanced at me, then back toward him. He’d drawn the same conclusion. “Did she seem like she was into it or more like she was being forced?”

  He crossed his legs at his ankles. “To be honest, I’m not really certain. She seemed okay but not completely into it. I mean she consented, went along with it, got off, got me off, but said nothing.”

  “Did you think she was high or drunk?”

  “She definitely wasn’t drunk. High, I couldn’t really say. She was just really sad.”

  Miles shifted a little in his seat and I was ready to jump out of my skin. “Do you remember anything else unusual?”

  He gave another small laugh. “The dude started reciting some kind of prayer while we were going at it.”

  Miles’s eyes shot to mine. “Do you know what prayer?”

  “Something about repenting for her deeds.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Look, threesomes are more my thing. That whole night was just freakin’ bizarre. It was like they were putting on a show and neither one of them wanted to be there. Other than that, no, nothing unusual happened. Straight-up sex. Nothing kinky. He paid me, he never asked to see me again, and never contacted me again.”

  Miles stood.

  I straightened.

  “Thanks for the info.” Miles handed him his card. “If you think of anything else, call me.”

  The dude didn’t get up. “Yeah, no problem.”

  I started for the door and Miles followed.

  “Hey,” Derrick called. “I have the room for the morning, right?”

  “Yeah, man. It’s all yours,” Miles answered.

  There was nothing about what I’d just learned that made me feel any better. In fact, I felt myself twitching everywhere and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  “Why would he do something like that?” Miles asked.

  “I have no fucking idea.”

  My mind was warped. I couldn’t think straight right now. My thoughts couldn’t even be vocalized. O’Shea was with Lizzy when she was “missing.” He’d never told Elle about it. He’d videotaped this fucked-up event for a reason.

  I mean why?

  What the fuck?

  We walked toward the elevator and Miles managed to at least say what I couldn’t. “What the fuck kind of guy does that with his wife?”

  “The one who wants to lay claim to my girl,” I muttered.

  He pressed the button and turned his head toward me. “What did you say?”

  “The same one who wants Elle,” I said and closed my eyes.

  The very thought was enough to drive me crazy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ELLE

  I opened the back door of my townhouse with my hands full.

  I had my laptop on one shoulder, my purse on the other, and a giant plush elephant clutched in between. Logan had picked it up yesterday for Clementine. It was so big it had to be the size of her. I’d been unsuccessful in replacing Rosie and although Clementine had long forgotten her once precious rattle, he hoped this would fill any void the lost toy might have created.

  It was really sweet.

  Much to my chagrin, when I glanced toward the dark sky filled with gray clouds, I knew it was going to rain again. Boston in the spring was proving that my investment in a good raincoat was well worth it. I’d also picked up a red rain hat and red rain boots. Luckily, I had already shoved the hat on my head before stepping foot outdoors, but unfortunately my rain boots were at the boutique.

  I took in the beautiful green colors that surrounded me—the trees, the grass, the stems of the flowers. Everything was starting to get so green and lush. I loved the Northeast and couldn’t believe I’d spent so much time anywhere but here.

  After a few moments of taking in the fresh air, I turned on my heels to lock the kitchen door. When I did, I felt something strange beneath my soles. The giant elephant was blocking my view but still, I managed to glance downward.

  Black rose petals covered the stoop. Hundreds of them
. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt a chill that was not from the cool temperature. I glanced around. Nothing. No one. Where did they come from?

  That unease I’d felt earlier crept right back inside my soul.

  Worrying my lip, I locked the door and hurried up the sidewalk to the street. The Porsche was parked behind the Mercedes, but there were no signs of anything or anyone unusual.

  Today I was taking the Mercedes and as I rushed toward it, my mind was whirling. What I knew about black roses came from reading books and watching movies. Possibly total folklore, they meant to symbolize a warning for something like an impending death or a plot for revenge. Were these left for me or were they a prank by some neighborhood goth kid who dabbed black food coloring in his grandmother’s rose garden? I tried calling Logan to tell him about it but the call went right to voicemail. I hung up. I was being silly. I’d tell him about it later.

  I eased down the accelerator. Was it just my imagination, or could I smell the woodsy, pine-like smell of the outdoors in the car? I glanced around. Nothing. Odd. I was really losing it.

  Driving fast, it still seemed to take me forever to get to Michael’s. As I pulled onto his street, I looked in the rearview mirror and told myself I had to focus on what was important. I had to be brave. For Clementine.

  I parked out front and double-checked that the thumb drive was still in the pocket of my black palazzo pants. I’d selected an outfit where the pants were loose and the top sheer so as to hide any evidence of what I was carrying on my body and draw attention up to the top. It wasn’t the best plan, but I also hoped it wasn’t one that was needed. Hopefully, Michael would stay at work during my weekly breakfast date with Clementine—he always had. But then again, he hadn’t propositioned me before now and wasn’t awaiting an answer, either.

  Knock. Knock.

  I didn’t want to scare Mrs. R and just go on in. This was her first week and she was still learning the ropes. In fact, I hoped Michael had reminded her to give Clementine only a small snack until I arrived.

  There was no answer and I knocked again.