by Tess Oliver
His grasp on my hips tightens. I press my face into the comforter to stifle a cry as his cock teases the opening. He withdraws and my plea fills the room.
"Fuck, what have you done to me? What have you done?" His cock eases into me with slow precision. God, he's big. I release the breath I'm holding. The bed shakes and I'm sure I'll break apart into a million pieces once he withdraws. The deep, feral grunts coming from behind me bring me back to the edge.
His hand tangles in my hair again. He pulls my head back as he thrusts into me from behind. "Fuck," he growls. The sensation of him coming inside of me brings me quickly to orgasm.
He stays there, buried in me for a long time before dropping to his side on the mattress. I'm still clutching the comforter as he pulls me to him, my back against his chest. I've never felt as secure as I do in his arms.
We lay there for what seems like a normal moment, two people in a passionate relationship listening to each other's heartbeats, feeling each other's pulse.
"I know nothing about you." His deep voice flows over me like a soothing liquid. "Do you have family?"
It's the first personal question anyone has asked me since Yoli at the park. I briefly wonder how she is and what she is up to, then shift back to the question. I'd created a back story for Tawny, my undercover persona, but I can't remember much of it. My own story is dull enough that it wouldn't raise any red flags. "I have three brothers. They all teased me mercilessly. But they were also protective. My two older brothers were super athletes and excellent students. I always felt like I was scooting behind them, hidden in their vast glowing shadows, trying to get noticed. Do you have any siblings?" It's such a basic question, but it seems striking to think that a man like Kane has brothers and sisters, let alone any kind of family ties. In my mind, he's a loner, someone who has gotten through life virtually alone. I have no idea why I feel that about him but it's how I picture his life.
"No siblings," he says, filling in half the picture I already have of him.
His mouth presses against the back of my shoulder. "And your parents?"
He seems unusually curious about my past life. I dismiss it as just getting to know each other. Again, I somehow manage to convince myself that this is all normal, a perfectly average situation where I just happened to find a man who is so masterful in bed he can push me past any of the limits I had subconsciously set for myself.
"Only my mom is alive," I answer. "My dad died when I was fourteen." It's my standard response when someone asks me the question. I rarely allow details to come out because I like to keep them hidden. But between the drugging effects of the nectar and Kane's ability to make me feel and say things I normally don't, some of those painful details surface. My throat is tight as I speak. "We'd had a terrible argument that day. I'd only won two out of three of my track events. He was so busy telling me what I'd done wrong in the race I lost that he never found the time to congratulate me on the wins. It was like that with him. My brothers never lost. They were his champions. I was the little rusty haired girl who was born between his boys. He was leaving for the night shift at work. I took the time to stomp out to the front porch and let him know just how much I hated him before storming victoriously back inside. It rained that night and a semi truck lost control and cut his car in half. He died instantly carrying with him my last words. ‘I hate you, Dad'."
I have no idea why but I expect Kane to tighten his hold on me after my story, but there is no attempt at empathy. If anything, he loosens his embrace.
"How did you end up on the streets?"
It is the next logical question but it's jarring. I didn't stay in character and now I had to find a pathway back to Tawny. "I think that day changed me." That statement is not a lie. It helps me transition easily to the fantastical tale of my teenage downfall. "I started hanging out with the wrong crowds, took drugs, got arrested. My mom just couldn't control me. I hooked up with this older guy and—"
"Enough," he says sharply, startling me into silence. It seems he's grown bored of my story. Which is a good thing since it's all fabricated. But it's an opening for me to find out more about him. "What about your parents? Are they still alive?"
The bed moves as he rolls onto his back and swings his legs over the side. I've asked the wrong question.
"Stay tonight," I say. "I want you to stay." But I know I'll wake up alone. I close my eyes and concentrate on falling into a deep sleep so I won't feel him stand up from the bed. If I'm deep asleep, I won't hear the door when he leaves me alone.
27
Maddox
Silvana drops a paper on my desk. "The list of all the vacant warehouses within a two hundred mile radius. It's a long list. Apparently people don't look around for available warehouses before they build their own."
I pick up the stapled papers. "Shit. Needle meet haystack." I drop the list and lean back on my chair. Silvana pulls a chair up in front of my desk. It turns out he's a decent guy. He's honest and he works hard. Probably not the best guy to have your back in a stressful situation but who knows. I might be wrong about that too.
Silvana looks around to see who is in earshot. It's no one who would give a damn about our conversation. The precaution is simply because I am not supposed to be working on anything that has to do with Ten's undercover assignment. But then being told what I can and can't do has never stopped me before.
"So I talked to my brother's friend, the structural engineer." Silvana leans forward more. "He says there was one big project about five years ago that was farmed out to a foreign engineering firm because stateside there were just too many regulations to deal with."
My chair squeaks as I sit forward with interest.
"The guy didn't know many details except some rich guy bought a dried up mine. Silver, I think. It's out near the desert somewhere. It was all pretty hush hush. The rich guy had plans to build an entire living compound below ground. As far as the engineer knows, the project went off without a hitch. He's going to text me the general coordinates of the site when he gets them."
"Silvana, if we weren't sitting in the middle of the office, I'd kiss ya. Good work."
Silvana's cheeks puff out like pink balloons. Our bro moment is cut short when Clark bellows my name from his office doorway.
"Maddox, get in here. Now."
I look at Silvana. "Do you think he's going to ask me to lunch?"
Silvana laughs then stops. "Hey, speaking of lunch—weren't you supposed to—'
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I pull out my phone. There was one text from Tiffany. A string of question marks followed by an exclamation. "Yes. I was supposed to meet her for lunch . . . with her parents."
"Oh boy, then you might as well go into Clark's office first. I think that'll be the nice portion of your day."
I text Tiffany back. "Still at work. Captain Clark just summoned me into his office. Apologize to your parents for me." There is no return text, which speaks volumes.
I walk into Clark's office. He has his round elbow on the arm of his chair and he's gnawing on his thumbnail as he stares out the office window.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Yeah, sit down. I'm not going to lie, Maddox. I'm losing fucking sleep over Tennyson. I've never sent anyone undercover into such a deeply secretive situation." He pushes a homicide case file folder toward me. It sends a jolt of fear through me.
Clark senses his mistake. "No, it's not anything to do with Tennyson. Not technically. It's the file for the girl we found in the dumpster with her throat slashed. I thought her murder might lead us to this secret club. Turns out, it was a jealous boyfriend. The really fucked thing is I think if we could have gotten to her first, we could probably have gotten her to spill everything she knew about this Lace Underground."
I arch a brow at him. "Seriously? That's the really fucked up part?"
He waves his hand and sends several papers shuffling across his desk. "Other than her tragic, violent murder. You know what I mean. Don't try me today, Maddox. I'm not
in the mood."
I raise my hands in surrender. "Not trying to try you. I just want my partner back." I just want Ten back, I repeat to myself. "So what about this girl?"
"It seems she disappeared for several months, then resurfaced. But her boyfriend slit her throat before we could get to her."
"Where is he? I want to talk to him. See what he knows."
"Leave it to the guys in homicide. They're questioning him now. You've got enough to deal with." He tossed me another file. "A private mail order delivery company seems to have discovered that illegal drug delivery pays better. Gonna need you to start tailing the trucks. Get evidence for a search warrant for the shipping warehouse."
I jam the folder under my arm. "Let me talk to the boyfriend."
"No. Leave it alone."
"Well fuck, Clark. Thanks for this lovely reassuring talk."
His face turns red with rage but I just blow past that fact. "You start by letting me know that you can't sleep because you're worried that you made a bad fucking decision and sent Ten into a dangerous situation by herself." I stand up and rest my fists on his desk as I stare down at him. "And she's alone. She's alone. By the way, if you think I'm getting one fucking wink of sleep, I've got news for you, I'm not. Maybe I should ring you up in the middle of the night and we can chat."
I expect to have him thunder his angry retort at me as I leave but he's quiet. I reach the door.
"I fucked up, Maddox." It's the first time since I've worked under his command that he's admitted he made a mistake. He once set the staff microwave on fire with his foil wrapped burrito and he blamed the 'goddamned microwave inventors' for the mishap.
An idea pops into my head as I reach for the door. I spin around. "Send me undercover on this."
Clark laughs dryly as he pulls a stick of gum from his desk. "As pretty as you are, I don't think you can pass as a young girl."
"Getting a little tired of being called pretty," I mutter.
"Huh?" He sticks the gum into his mouth.
"Nothing. I could be a club member. I know there's a budget for high end sting operations. Make me a billionaire."
He shakes his head. "Go stake out that shipping warehouse and catch some bad guys."
I walk out.
Silvana comes out of the lounge with a banana and can of cola. "Was it a pleasant meeting?" He points to the folder under my arm. "Our next assignment?"
I nod and hand it to him. "But first I'm going to head down to homicide."
28
Angie
"Big news, my darlin'." Blake bursts into the bathroom where I've stewed myself in the hot tub until my skin has turned dark pink.
It's been hours since my last shot of nectar. In between doses, my head clears just enough for me to reflect on what the hell I'm doing. During the last few minutes I've been trying to make a mental catalogue of anything pertinent I've discovered since my arrival. But there's nothing. Only the stark, embarrassing reality that I've been swept easily into the sordid, secret Lace Underground as if I was always meant to be a part of it. Shabby-ass detective work—that's what Clark would call it.
Blake sits on the edge of the tub and rings out my hair. "Do you want to hear the news, or are you just going to sulk in these bubbles?"
"What's the big news?" I ask, pretending interest. In between doses is like that, a sort of blank spot where emotions and desires have slowed to a listless crawl. I lean my head back and look up at him. He has switched the purple contacts for electric blue. They take some getting used to.
"You are going to the club party tonight."
I sit up so fast water splashes over the edge of the tub. "Is he through with me?" Seconds ago my emotions were flat. Now they have erupted like a volcano. "I'm to be tossed out just like that?"
Blake sighs. "No, darlin', that's not it at all." He can't hide the disappointment in his tone. "You'll be Mr. Freestone's guest. Some of the other girls have been asking to meet you." He rolls his eyes. "You're the center of gossip right now. The girl who has kept his attention a full week." Blake stands and opens a plush white towel for me.
"A full week?" I ask in disbelief as I stand up from the bubbles. "Have I been here that long?" My mind is just clear enough to go straight to Maddox. What is he doing? Missing me? I laugh remembering he's too busy planning his wedding to give me a second thought.
Blake wraps the towel around me. "What's that laugh for?"
I shake my head. "Nothing. Just thinking about—"
He leans back to look at me. "Thinking about what?"
"About life before this place." I have to work to keep the homesickness out of my tone.
Blake pats me dry. "Well, you'll have to save the reminiscing for another time. I need to get you dressed." He walks to the panel where the nectar is kept.
I lean over and dry my legs. Bath time is the only time I'm without the leather cuffs and anklets. It feels strange to not be wearing them. The anklets leave a permanent thin line around my ankles. I touch the line and it immediately makes my pussy grow hot as I think about Kane, just hours earlier, fastening my feet to the hooks on the wall, leaving me helpless and exposed and trembling with anticipation.
Blake walks over with the syringe, filled, prepped and ready.
"Maybe I should skip it," I suggest bravely considering my body is saying don't you fucking dare. "It's just that I want to be clearheaded when I meet the other girls."
Occasionally, Blake's laugh is ill-timed and slightly cruel. "Darlin', trust me, the other girls won't be skipping their doses. The club members will be there too. Cocktails are served and then the members peel off with their selected entertainment for the night."
I've been a virtual prisoner in this room. This will be my first opportunity to find out what I was sent here to discover. Who belongs to this secret society and why are members turning up with their skulls smashed in?
"Please, Blake. If we skip this dose, I promise to eat my whole breakfast tomorrow."
Blake stares at the syringe, then moves closer to lower his voice. I'd never considered the possibility that everything I did in my room was being observed or listened to. "Just this time," he says quietly and moves me toward the tub. He shields me with his body and shoots the amber colored liquid into the bath water. It sinks into the frothy bubbles and disappears with the water. My stomach tightens as I watch it get sucked away.
"You have to go along with the game and pretend you're dosed up or we'll both be in trouble." Blake's whisper is so quiet it's nearly drowned out by the crinkling sound of the dying bath bubbles.
"Thank you." I touch his arm lightly to show my appreciation.
"Now, we've got to get you all dolled up for the big reveal. Makes me feel like I'm getting someone ready for their debut into society." His voice is freshly enthusiastic, but I can hear worry threaded through the lyrical tone.
I follow Blake to the bedroom. He throws open the closet. It's filled mostly with lacey lingerie, but there are a few dresses. It occurs to me I've either been naked or scantily clad the entire week. It's rather freeing. Thinking about pulling on actual clothes makes me cringe. I inadvertently rub my naked arms thinking about the fabric touching me.
Blake notices me rubbing my arms. He pulls a little black dress out of the closet and holds it up in front of me, pretending to see how it'll look. He brings his mouth to my ear to whisper. "Don't. Skin crawling is a side effect of withdrawal. This is a mistake," he mutters as he pulls his mouth away. He looks at the dress. "And so is this. You're too washed out. The golden skin you came in here with has been replaced with floury white. You're not eating enough, and we need to get you to the tanning room sometime. You need some UV light on that pale skin."
I force my hands away from my skin and try not to think about the sensation creeping up my arms. Suddenly I'm rethinking my decision to forgo the nectar. Only it will be impossible to find out information or even remember people and faces if I'm in the heated fog left behind by the drug.
B
lake pulls a pale green dress from the closet. It has a tight bodice and a flouncy, short skirt. It's a dress I might have worn to a summer party when I was sixteen. Blake can sense my distaste for the flirty little dress but dismisses it.
"The green is the only thing that works with your ghostly pallor. Arms up." I hold up my arms and he drops the dress over me." He steps back and his eyes grow wide. "Shit, you're swimming in it." He points at me. "Every bite of breakfast tomorrow."
I nod but now, more than ever, the idea of food in my mouth makes my stomach tighten. A wave of nausea washes through me. I smile through it, not wanting to give Blake any more to fret about.
Blake motions me over to the vanity to finish off my party look. He picks up the leather cuffs. His deft fingers lace them onto my wrists. "Will the other girls be wearing them?" Wearing them in the privacy of the bedroom is one thing but out in front of others, complete strangers, is embarrassing.
"Of course they will. Especially if they want to be chosen for the evening."
"Being chosen is a good thing then? They want to entertain the club members?"
"Yes, if they aren't desirable, then they have no place here. Besides, you know how the nectar makes you feel. They want it almost as much as the club members. Otherwise, the sexual frustration can make you go mad."
Blake brushes my hair back into a ponytail. It's the perfect hair style to go with the teenager dress. The underage look is complete, I think wryly. Then another dark thought hits me. "Are you sure he's not sending me out there to hand me to one of the club members?"
Blake mulls the question over. "I was surprised when he asked me to get you ready for the night's activities, but I don't think so." He leans down and stares at my reflection. "Darlin', you need to prepare yourself for when that day comes. And it will come. He won't keep you tucked in here for his personal use for long. You're an asset to the company, if you catch my meaning. There's no return on investment when you're sitting in this room."
