He bit her. Hard, and the pain shot fire straight to her pussy. He was fearless, and he was taunting her with a love fierce enough to burn in the depths of her hell.
“Prove it, Burnett.” She grappled with him, kissing and biting him hard, her tongue fighting his, and the heat between her legs grinding over his hot rod.
His body jerked and tensed, and his big shoulders strained against the silk tie. She was sure he could break the bonds if he chose, but instead, he gripped her headboard, keeping his hands out of reach.
He freaking trusted her. And so she took—gobs and gobs of man, all of it. She rubbed herself over his muscular body. She stripped herself. Flung off her bra and plastered her breasts over his mouth. She let him lave and suck and rub his scratchy whiskers over her soft globes until they were red and raw, scratched and hot.
She stripped him, opening his shirt and pressed herself, skin against heated skin over his chest. She licked and kissed his saltiness, teased his nipples and nestled her face in the patch of soft chest hair. She inhaled his scent and lathered herself in his breath, his heat, and his sweat.
She didn’t need drugs to awaken every nerve ending, to fuel and stimulate her desire. Lust washed over her as she feasted and handled the muscles, the washboard abs, the trail of hair below his belly button, leading to that huge piece he carried.
“Concealed no more.” She lifted herself and unzipped him. “So big and heavy. Think I can hold it steady and hit the target?”
She remembered how he’d shot his target through the heart, multiple times, and how hard it was for her to grip her handgun. Thankfully, she had no trouble with Jason’s glistening cock.
Avery wanted to ride him. Take her pleasure without concern for him. Use him like the sex slave she’d always wished to dominate.
His eyes were watchful, so she gave him a show.
Rising up, she stood up on the bed over him and shimmied out of her jeans, turning and twisting so he’d get a view of her front and back.
She kicked off her panties and spread the lips between her legs for him, rubbing her wetness from her vagina to her clit.
He licked his lips, biting them with a look so hungry and inviting.
Her clit was plump, begging to be licked, and still, she tortured him, circling her pleasure button and thrusting two fingers inside of herself.
He stuck out his tongue, wagging it and licking, lapping like the horndog she knew he was.
Since he was practically begging, she moved up to his face and sat down hard over him.
His tongue shot up hard, and a zing of pleasure shot through her, almost throwing her over the edge. She tensed and backed off, wanting to prolong the tingling, and there was nothing he could do but raise his head, chasing her soaked pussy.
Turning around, she propped herself over his face and picked up his fully plumped penis. His tongue went to work, eagerly lapping and flicking while she swallowed his cock.
Her thighs quivered and his hips rocked, moving his cock in and out, in and out of her mouth. Even tied down, he was taking charge, fucking her mouth, and it was both scary and thrilling. Her body in turn was exploding, the pleasure ramping up, rushing higher with the fast rhythm of his tongue. She could barely keep her mouth closed over his dick as a howl of passion overtook her, shocking her with a solid bolt of such exquisite ecstasy, higher than any drug had ever taken her.
Screaming his name, she came, rippling over and over, as her juices squirted over Jason’s busy mouth. At the same time, his powerful cock swelled and burst. His entire body tensed and jerked, and he groaned, hissing like a stream of hot lava meeting the salty sea.
She whipped herself around so they were face-to-face, and she swam over his sweaty body, kissing him and loving him through the glowing aftershocks.
Holding on, she lay over him and felt his heart beat underneath hers as their breathing slowly returned to a semblance of normality.
“Was that scary enough?” she asked once she caught her breath.
“No, you’re going to have to do better.” He chuckled softly.
“You’re not afraid of triggering me?” She nuzzled her face against his, blowing in his ear.
“Oh, I’m fully enjoying setting you off. Let’s do it again.”
“Okay. But I’m going to cut your shirt off. I want you naked. Every bit.”
“Why can’t you untie my hands?”
She wagged her finger at him. “Because I love the power I have over you.”
Grabbing a pair of scissors, she cut across his shirt to his sleeves. The ugly black bruising over his right shoulder swelled over his reddened skin.
Shame swept over her at how inconsiderate she’d been, taking only her pleasure and forgetting that he’d been hurt.
Tentatively, she prodded the injured area and he winced, flinching from her touch.
“What happened? You said you’d tell me.”
“It’s nothing. Just a glancing blow.”
“Of what? A baseball bat?” She turned his head aside and examined the swelling at the base of his neck. “This looks serious.”
“I’m okay. Someone hit me with a pipe outside of Popo’s. I ducked and deflected the blow, but he was too quick. He ran around the corner while I was down.”
“Wait, you were attacked?” She stiffened and sat up. All desire drained from her, replaced with concern. “Do you think it’s the same guy who attacked Ivanna?”
He huffed a sigh, sensing playtime was over. “Possibly, or he was paid by the same guy.”
“What time was this?”
Jason gave her the approximate time in a deadpan voice.
“Then it wasn’t Larry. I was on the phone with Larry.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What about?”
“Since we’re partners, I guess it means I tell you everything. You promise to tell me what you find out?”
“Promise.” He pulled against the ties binding his hands. “I’d give you a pinkie promise if I could.”
“You’re cute.”
“Ah, that’s not fair. I’m nothing close to cute. You’re delaying. What were you talking to Larry about?”
“My schedule is packed this week. I wanted to postpone the private show until next week.”
“Makes sense.”
“He won’t do it. We’re still on.”
“Where?”
“At his Upper East Side penthouse. I’m sorry to drag you into this, but I can’t trust anyone else to do exactly what I tell them to.”
“And you think I will comply?”
“After that performance, yes.” She lay down on him, so that she was flat against his chest, feeling the latent heat and power. “I tried to get out of it. Maybe I can say I’m sick. One year, I came down with the stomach flu, and I never had to make it up. Orson is a germaphobe.”
“I don’t want you to get out of it,” he said, surprising her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“You don’t even know how to model.”
His tilted his head to snuggle against her, but without the use of his hands, he couldn’t position her for kissing or anything else.
“I don’t give a rip about the modeling part,” he said. “I want to get into Leach’s penthouse and investigate.”
She laughed. “I don’t think you’ll have much of an opportunity. I’ll have you on a leash.”
“What kind of kinky show are you putting on?”
She dotted her index finger over his lips. “Promise to do everything I ask you to do.”
“Do I have to strip?”
“Not telling. Just promise.” A glow of boldness strengthened her, and she flexed her muscles, taking a resolute breath. What if she let Jason know the worst? It would be the ultimate test. See if he was a fair-weathered lover, or he’d truly stick to her—no matter what. She watched his expression to see if he’d flinch. “Promise me.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and she could tell he was running scenarios through his mind. He wasn’t bor
n yesterday, and he was a cop. For sure, he’d seen the crime scenes and the horrible things humans did to each other.
“As long as you’re not hurt or injured,” he said.
“Uh-uh. No conditions, Jase. Promise me anything.”
He nodded stiffly, getting it. It was a test of faith, of belief, and mostly, of trust.
“I promise.”
She grasped his face and kissed him hard, but he barely returned the kiss, so she backed off.
It was his turn to interrogate, and she could sense him turning the tables on her.
“Who did the show with you last year? Brando?” He was in full-on detective mode, despite being half-naked, post-orgasmic, and sinfully hot as Hades.
“He did it as a favor for me.” Her voice was flat and constricted. It was one of the worst things she did putting Brando into that horrid situation.
“How about the previous years?” Jason asked.
“I always found someone.”
“Like who?”
She swallowed hard and had to face the facts. “Saul’s brother, Garm. And before that, the fellow named Longshanks.”
Jason’s breath hissed, and he gaped at her, eyes bulging like one of Richie’s pufferfish. His hands jerked against the bounds, and his body lifted halfway off the bed, throwing her from her prone position. “I need a list of every man you used for the private showing.”
She lifted herself off of him, noticing his erection was long gone. He was ready for action. A true cop who could shut off lust and desire when danger arose. She was glad he had his priorities straight.
Sitting at his side, she ran her hand up and down his biceps, admiring the musculature. “There were only three. I’ve only been designing three years.”
“Three private shows. Three male models, and three deaths.” His stare was intense with accusation. “Avery, if you knew, why didn’t you go to the police?”
“The first two deaths were overdoses. I had no reason to be suspicious. I didn’t even know they were dead.”
“How did you find them for the job?”
“Alida recommended them.”
Once again, Jason strained at the bonds. “We have to bring Alida in for questioning. Don’t you see? She’s the link.”
“You can’t be arresting her for referring a model. It wasn’t her anyway, it was Starbright. Her assistant runs it.”
“Who’s her assistant?”
“You’re not going to like this coincidence,” Avery said. “Ivanna’s oldest sister, Clarissa.”
“I’ll need to speak to her. If these models were murdered.”
“You’re the only one who thinks they were murdered. How does getting high on meth equal being murdered?” Avery tipped Jason’s chin with her index finger. “Have you ever taken meth?”
“No, have you?”
“You know I have. I’m sure it came up in your investigation. I used to run around with Richie. He was my supplier. I never got to the point of destroying my health.”
“Or so you imagined you didn’t. Did you ruin your teeth and have them replaced with implants?”
“No. There are other ways of ingesting it other than smoking.”
“Doesn’t matter. Will you untie me?”
“Why? So you can leave before I say my piece? If you want me to trust you, you have to stay.”
His mouth thinned into a grim line, and he nodded, blowing out a breath. “Okay. You got me where you want me. Now, talk.”
“Will you still help me?” She lay down next to him, propping her head with one hand over her elbow.
“I promised you, didn’t I?” He turned his head to gaze into her eyes. Not easily because of his bruised and hulking shoulders. “Go on, Ave. Tell me what you did.”
“I switched to cocaine. It wasn’t as stimulating, but I didn’t want to ruin my teeth.”
“Why were you using?” His tone was gentle. “Help me understand.”
She played with the fuzz on his chin, marveling at the way it ran different directions. “They gave me drugs to turn me on and make themselves better lovers.”
“The models you hired?” His gaze narrowed, but his eyes remained fluid and caring, almost like he was fighting suspicion and concern.
“No, not the models. They were cast to play a part. It was mostly acting with them, other than …” she trailed off. “I can’t put Brando in the same category. What he did was out of love.”
“He went to a private show out of love for you?”
Avery blinked at the sudden pressure in her eyes. “Yes, and I won’t be able to live with myself if it had anything to do with his death. I almost wish it was gang-related or mistaken identity.”
“You want to find out, don’t you? You want to know.”
“I don’t want to know, but I can’t help speculating.”
“That’s why you invited me to be your model.” Jason’s eyes were wet. “That’s why you put your trust in me.”
“Am I endangering you?” She placed her palm on the side of his face, and he turned toward her hand, kissing it. “Because if I am, I’ll put a stop to this. I’ll ask Starbright to assign someone.”
“No!” His bark was explosive. “You can’t let some innocent model fall under this trap. I’m capable, and I want to go in. I can’t wait to nail these bastards. I’ve pretty much got it figured out.”
“You have?” She kissed him on the forehead, wondering whether he would be shocked at how depraved her performance would get.
“Yeah. Starbright places models for that pervert Orson Leach’s enjoyment. After you parade them around for the private show, he hooks up with them later on. The guys are offered money and favors to decorate fundraisers. They’re used to entrap politicians with sexual favors. Maybe they get hooked on meth and the deaths are accidental. Or maybe they’re given an overdose because they know too much.”
“How would you explain Brando’s death?”
“He balked at their proposition, so they took him out.”
Her fingers tightened, gripping and digging into his cheek. “How do we prove it?”
“You’re doing it. You’re using me as bait.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jason strolled through the run-down Brooklyn neighborhood, walking by a row of winos in various states of dereliction and inebriation. The grimy brick building was surrounded by a corrugated metal fence splattered with overlapping graffiti.
The entrance door was propped wide open, revealing a trash-strewn row of mailboxes on one side and a dumbwaiter trash drawer and stairs on the other side.
Jason took the stairs leading to the basement. It reeked with urine, and a single lightbulb flickered in the dank hallway. He’d been here before.
Saul’s apartment was on the ground floor. Jason didn’t call ahead, so he didn’t know if anyone was home. He also didn’t want to telegraph his arrival and allow Saul to skedaddle.
He knocked on the door. “Hey, Saul. It’s Jason, Avery’s friend.”
There was no answer. He knocked again, a steady tapping, for about three minutes.
Still no answer. Not even someone telling him to bug off.
He turned around and knocked on the door across the hallway. “Hey, I’m a friend of Saul’s. Has anyone seen him around?”
The door cracked open with the chain still linked. A young man peered out. “Does he owe you money?”
“Depends.”
The man’s greedy eyes looked Jason up and down. “How much is it worth to you?”
“Depends.”
“He ain’t around.” The man moved to shut the door, but Jason put out his palm to block the door from closing.
“I’m actually looking for Ernesto Gomez. That dude owes me more. You seen him around?”
“You’re too late. He’s dead.”
“He have any relatives?” Jason asked.
“Depends,” the man mimicked him.
Jason extracted a fiver. “Maybe this will help.”
The man
wrinkled his nose. “Maceta.”
“If he’s dead, he isn’t worth much.” Jason handed the five-dollar bill to the man who’d called him stingy.
“What do you want to know about Ernesto?” the man asked, pocketing the money.
“I want to know what he spent the money on.” Jason dipped into his pocket and took out another bill.
“You the rich dude who gave him the money?”
“You don’t want to know. Just answer the question.”
“He sent it home to his mother, but he died before he got the other half.”
“That’s because he didn’t finish the job.” Jason dropped another fiver into the man’s outstretched hand. “Was he friends with any of the models who live upstairs?”
“You mean the patos with their fancy clothes? They paid him to do their laundry. I know he stole clothes from them. Or maybe he’s a mamaguebo too.”
“He’s acquainted with them,” Jason said, ignoring the references to homosexuals. “How about the guy I’m looking for? Saul?”
“He hustles. Sells a little this and a little that, if you know what I mean.” The man held out his hand for another tip. “How much he owe you?”
“Enough to be worth your while.” Jason slapped another fiver at the greedy informant along with his personal card. “I want to know if he comes home. You’ll call me, right?”
“Sure, but if it’s molta you want, I can hook you up.” He used the slang term for marijuana.
“Saul owes me. You let me know.”
“I will. You came at a good time. He must have gotten paid this weekend, because he got molta and pussy.”
“Did he say who paid him?”
“Rich guy in a limo dropped him off. Drug deal or he’s a cock sucker.”
“Did you see the rich guy? Description?”
The man pulled at his stringy mustache and shrugged. “No, mister. It was a black limo with darkened windows.”
Jason took out the picture of Garm and Longshanks. “Were these guys mamaguebo?”
“They look it, but I don’t know them.”
“How about this guy?” He showed him a picture of Joselito.
“Him I remember. But no, he ain’t gay. He’s got a girl. Some uptown chick.”
Triggered by Love Page 27
