by Aubrey Rose
She was helpless!
With a soft, shuddering sob, Velvet closed her eyes.
Chapter Five
“Velvet, don’t scream. It’s me, Trevor. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her eyes flew open. The only light in the room was the odd, pulsing, red glow from the neon sign. His features, though distorted, were achingly familiar. He slowly moved his hand away from her mouth.
“Trevor?”
Acute awareness washed over her entire body, confusing her senses, muddling her emotions. His weight pressed her down into the sofa, making it difficult to breath. Rising slightly, he allowed her to pull her arms out from between them and his legs insinuated themselves between her thighs.
Velvet fought back more tears. She’d never been so frightened in her entire life. “Trevor,” she whispered again, as if to assure herself that it was really him.
Uncertainty invaded her momentary relief. What was Trevor doing here? Why had he grabbed her? She lay perfectly still, trying to make sense of the situation. Propped on his elbows, his face hovered over hers, his presence eclipsing the room. The coarse seams of his jeans pressed against her thighs. Her skirt tangled around her hips.
Anger burned away the last of her fear. “You scared me to death! What the hell are you doing here?” She pushed against his shoulders, her palms connecting with the supple coolness of his leather jacket. It was unzipped completely and her breasts molded to his chest with only a thin cotton barrier.
“This became inevitable the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he whispered.
Velvet trembled. The possessive passion in his gaze melted her insides, a slow, sticky sensation like warm honey flowing between her fingers. He stared down at her silently, his eyes moving slowly over her face. Her mouth quivered, her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip.
Trevor shifted his hips, pressing the distinct ridge of his erect cock against her mons. She gasped, startled more by the tingling response vibrating through her body, than by the fact that Trevor wanted her. His hand touched her face, his thumb brushing her parted lips.
He lowered his head. His mouth simply pressed over hers for a long moment. He seemed content with the warm pressure, the contrasting textures, and the closeness. Velvet grew restless; she opened her mouth and tentatively touched her tongue to the tip of his.
With an audible growl, Trevor shot his fingers into her hair and tilted his face to seal his mouth more securely over hers. He kissed her hungrily, aggressively and Velvet responded with equal fervor.
Blood pounded through her veins, her body throbbed with need. His tongue surged into her mouth and Velvet welcomed the invasion. She hadn’t realized how numbed she’d been until Trevor ignited her senses. Each touch made her hungry for more. Each kiss intensified her longing.
His large hand swept up her thigh, squeezing her hip. Velvet whimpered. Reason called to her, a tiny whisper down a long corridor. She should stop him. Hell, she should stop herself.
Easing his hips back, he slipped his warm hand between their bodies and covered her sex. Velvet moaned. Their mouths fused in an endless kiss. She drank of his virility and tangled her fingers in the rough silk of his dark hair. He was aggressive and demanding and her need spun toward desperation.
Eleven years! She’d dreamed about making love with Trevor for eleven years.
His hand moved away from her mound and she felt the absence with her whole body. He found the hem of her blouse and snuck beneath, spreading his fingers against her torso. She arched in invitation. His clever fingers deftly unfastened the front clasp of her bra.
This was madness, irresponsible ‑‑ and she reveled in the recklessness.
He pushed the blouse up and brushed the loosened cups of her bra aside. Velvet refused to release their kiss even when he tried to lever himself away from her. She tightened her hold on his hair and thrust her tongue deeply into his mouth.
The adrenaline already rushing through her system demanded an emotional and physical release. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to abandon herself completely to the moment, to this pleasure, and let the consequences be damned.
He tore his mouth from hers and forced her hands from his hair, pinning her arms to the couch above her head. His expression was savage. Velvet’s core clenched in response, aching to be filled. Overwhelmed.
Crouching over her, his weight balanced on his knees, he ducked his head and fastened his lips around her nipple. Tingling heat spiraled from her breast to her clit at the insistent pressure. She panted, her breasts quivering. He crossed her wrists, shifting them both into one large hand.
His free hand roamed over her breasts, cupping one, then supporting the other while his mouth drew forcefully upon the nipple. It was sweet torture. Velvet needed so much more. She arched her back, trying to bring her aching pussy into contact with his cock. His kneeling position kept him just out of reach.
Finally, he released her wrists and launched himself into flurry of motion. With quick, urgent movements, he bunched her skirt around her waist and grasped her panties on either side of her hips, dragging them down along her legs and tossing them aside. His hands swept under her knees pushing her legs up and back until she was brazenly opened for him.
Apprehension fluttered through Velvet as he paused to enjoy the display. He knelt between her thighs, completely dressed and in control. She sprawled before him, all of her secrets bared, vulnerable.
Before she could protest or draw her legs together he touched her. His fingers skimmed along her inner thighs, one hand on each side, moving with perfect synchronicity. By the time his teasing touch reached her pussy Velvet was shaking. He combed his fingers through her damp curls. She closed her eyes. Her senses had never been this acute before; tension and anticipation twisted painfully.
He parted her delicate folds and pushed his finger into her throbbing cunt. Slowly, tormenting her with his gentle deliberation.
“You are so hot, so wet, I could come just touching you.”
The graphic phrase thrilled Velvet. She was so close to orgasm she feared the tiniest touch would send her over the edge. He withdrew his finger at the same teasing pace and Velvet moaned. When he pushed back in, with two fingers, it was more than she could bear.
Her inner muscles gripped his fingers as her orgasm exploded in spasms of pleasure. She lifted her hips and covered her face with her hands, muffling her cries.
Reality drifted back. The feather-light flick of his fingertip against her aching clit beckoned. He kept her body throbbing with tingling aftershocks as a new cycle of arousal began.
“I don’t have protection with me,” he muttered, frustration obvious in his voice.
“I don’t care,” she cried.
“Yes, you do, and so do I.”
He hadn’t stopped touching her, so the statement confused Velvet. His mouth found her nipple and began to suckle as his hands moved away from her for a moment. He quickly unfastened his jeans and kicked them off, leaving his cotton briefs in place.
Velvet cried out softly as he lowered himself over her. He was still mostly dressed but the heat of his hardened cock burned through the impossibly thin barrier. His hands slipped beneath her, cupping her ass. He raised her hips and fit her carefully against his erection.
For the longest time he just held her there, accenting the throbbing of his body against hers, absorbing the heat. Then he dragged his hips down, keeping her carefully aligned. He rubbed his shaft against her clit over and over. It was undeniably stimulating, yet a poor substitute for actual penetration.
He gasped harshly, continuing the steady slide. Her cream quickly soaked his briefs, allowing the burning heat to pass between them unhindered. She was afraid to move, afraid of disturbing the careful alignment. His hands tightened on her ass and she grabbed hold of his leather-clad shoulders. He moved faster, grinding himself against her with increased urgency.
Tension coiled tighter. Velvet cried out. His chest flattened her breasts and she pulled h
er legs up high against his sides. He found her mouth with his, matching the thrust of his tongue to the rhythm of his hips.
She wanted to move. She wanted him buried deep inside her, his thick cock stretching her tightly. Building pleasure eroded her frustration, bursting through her with blinding spasms of release. She screamed. His mouth captured the sound, muffling and savoring it.
Trevor shook, grinding his cock against her as he came. Panting harshly, he hesitated a long time before dragging himself off her. He grabbed his discarded jeans and walked into the bathroom without a word.
Velvet brushed her hair out of her eyes, her hands trembling. Regret and uncertainty rushed in before the last tingle faded.
What the hell was I thinking!
Tossing down her skirt, she fastened her bra and righted her blouse before beginning the search for her panties. They were soaked, shameful proof of her abandonment, so Velvet shoved them into her purse. She sat on the only other piece of furniture in the tiny living room, a battered armchair.
Trevor emerged from the bathroom, calm and composed, looking for all the world as if nothing had happened. He plopped down on the sofa and grinned at her.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Wishing to God I had a condom.”
“That’s not funny.” Embarrassment fueled her indignation. She couldn’t believe she’d let things go so far.
He sat there, staring at her, his rugged features cast in sharp relief by the eerie red light. Velvet waited for his explanation, trying to ignore the undeniable pulse of sexual awareness echoing through her entire body. His silent composure mocked her awkwardness. Hadn’t he felt anything? Her body burned just thinking about what they’d done. And what they hadn’t done.
“How did you get in here?” She tried again.
Thanking fate for the darkness, Trevor desperately fought for a plausible explanation. He couldn’t confide in her ‑‑ that would be foolish. Instinct told him he could trust her, but instincts could be wrong. So how else could he explain? He suddenly wanted to laugh. His investigation easily explained his presence in Jamie’s apartment. What possible excuse did he have for the rest? He’d been in a state of perpetual erection since Halloween. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let this happen again. Why couldn’t he keep his hands off her?
“I can’t explain,” he said softly.
“Can’t? You mean won’t. Are you even a reporter?”
“Yes.”
“But you aren’t here to interview me.”
Give her bits and pieces. Let her draw her own conclusions. “I interviewed you.”
She glared in response and Trevor smiled.
“But I’m not the story you’re after, am I?”
Her annoyance was so adorable Trevor had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from touching her again. Her hair was a shiny mess, the sleek style destroyed by their wrestling match. Even in the odd red glow, the purity of her delicate features entranced him. “How well do you know Depalma?”
“Is Anthony who you’re investigating?”
Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees and looking directly into her eyes. She automatically pressed back into the chair. He intimidated her. Her reaction had been subtle; still, Trevor recognized the tiny retreat. He didn’t want her fear. But he couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.
Trevor gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t want Velvet to be afraid of him, period. This was so damn complicated! “Has there ever been anything unusual or unethical about your dealings with Depalma?”
“You mean, like his models disappearing?”
She sounded flippant, so Trevor hesitated. If she were involved, he couldn’t afford to ‑‑ but Trevor knew her. There was no way Velvet was involved in Jamie’s disappearance. “How much time did you spend with Jamie Lynn? Was there anyone else at the agency that she was especially close to?”
“How did you turn this around? I was asking the questions.”
She swung her face away and the silky fall of her hair obscured her features. Trevor crossed the room and knelt before her, resting his hands lightly on her knees. When she didn’t look at him, he gently pushed her hair behind her ear and brought her face back around. “You have suspicions of your own. Don’t you? Something isn’t right. That’s why you’re here, just like me.”
“I thought there might be something in Jamie’s mail that would give me a clue where she is. I’ve pestered Lieutenant Rojo every day…” She stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes snapping back to confront him. “You went there, didn’t you? You pretended to be Jamie’s brother and asked Rojo about the case. He told me her brother had contacted him, but I didn’t see how that was possible. Jamie’s family didn’t know she was living here let alone that she’s disappeared.”
Trevor had to look away. “Yeah, I talked to the cop. I’ve spoken with a lot of people over the last few days. That’s my job. I’m supposed to find out what really happened.”
“What have you learned?” The challenge left her voice; tension eased from her posture.
He shifted, sitting on the floor in front of her. “Not much. Either I’m chasing rainbows or this guy is extremely clever.”
“This guy? What exactly are you searching for? What do you think Depalma has done?”
“I’m not sure.” He took a deep breath. He hated lying to her, but for the time being it was safer if she didn’t realize his true connection to the investigation. “As I was doing background work for this story --”
“Which story?”
“The story about Velvet Arceneaux, fashion photographer. I checked out the Depalma Modeling Agency just to have a basic understanding of your work environment. Several things seemed odd. Some of the facts seemed manipulated. That only happens when someone is trying to hide something. I dug deeper and things got stranger.”
“Strange how?”
“Anthony Depalma nets approximately two hundred thousand dollars a year according to the IRS, but he owns four homes, six automobiles, and a private jet.”
“How could you possibly know that, and why hasn’t the IRS audited him?”
“That’s two separate questions. The first one is really not important and the IRS has him under investigation; a fact he isn’t aware of, yet.”
“All right, so Depalma isn’t exactly honest on his tax returns. Surely that can’t be front page news.”
Trevor turned away. He was telling her too much. What choice did he have? He needed Velvet, in more ways than one. She was an inside source that would make further investigation possible. He’d exhausted every other avenue with little result. “No, that’s not front page news. His tax records were only the first thing that didn’t add up.” He took a deep breath and rushed on before he changed his mind. “My figures wouldn’t stand up in court, you understand, because so much of it is conjecture, but the contracts held by the models of the Depalma Agency don’t even total the salary Depalma reports to the government.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I used published averages and some educated guesses to figure out what Depalma should be making. I projected the earnings of each model and divided that by a standard agent’s percentage to estimate what the agency is worth.”
“And it’s not making money?”
“It’s not that simple. Let me put it this way. The figures I came up with wouldn’t begin to support the sort of lifestyle displayed by Anthony or any one of his models, much less all of them.”
“They’re making their money some other way.”
“They have to be.”
“How?” Velvet whispered the last word, obviously frightened by the possibility that she was involved with criminals.
Trevor smiled, hoping to ease the tension. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”
“You have to at least have some idea.”
“Oh, I have lots of ideas, just nothing I can prove.”
“How does Jamie Lynn fit in to all
of this?”
“She’s not the only Depalma Agency model to disappear. She is, however, the most recent. I can’t believe she was at the Halloween party. Why didn’t I recognize her?”
“Most of the models were at the party. Why does that surprise you?” She cocked her eyebrow in silent challenge. “Do you have a thing for Jamie Lynn?”
“No, my thing is rather partial to a certain photographer.”
A smile played about her lips. “Jamie’s costume was rather wild and the party was really crowded.”
He nodded and gave himself a mental shake. Don’t give away too much! “If foul play is involved, it may give me a place to start. I’d hoped to find something the police overlooked.”
“I don’t think Rojo believes there’s any hope she’s still alive. If he thinks he’s only searching for a body, how much effort is he putting into the search?”
“Do you think she’s still alive?” Trevor asked carefully.
She was silent for a long moment. Trevor didn’t think she was going to answer, then she said, “I don’t know why, but I do. I really do.”
Chapter Six
After three hours of searching, Trevor and Velvet reluctantly came to the same conclusion as the police. There were no clues in Jamie Lynn’s apartment. They had methodically covered every inch, but found nothing that indicated how or why Jamie had disappeared.
“Who was the last person to have seen her?”
He seemed to stumble over the question. Had he been about to add the word alive?
They both sat on the sofa now. Trevor stared across the room, his rugged features impassive. “I guess that would be Chyna. She couldn’t remember anything after she sobered up. In fact her complete lack of memory makes me wonder if she wasn’t more than just drunk.”
“Is she known to do drugs?”
Velvet shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I think she might have been given that date-rape drug. She was in a really bad way when Gwen found her.”
