by Taylor Shade
“Come for me,” he says.
Oh, God, yes...
Sweet release.
I come.
I come hard.
I yelp into his cupped hand, my teeth sinking into his flesh. My arms smash around the shelves as an onrush of fire spreads from my loins all around inside me, exploding through the top of my head, through my fingers and toes.
I’m shaking all over, sweating and trembling.
“Come for me again,” he says as he dives back in once more.
I can’t believe it.
I come again.
Oh, God!
Harder than the last one!
A full-body orgasm crashing through me.
So good!
So fucking good!
Dear sweet God, so good!
He stays down there, his mouth lightly dancing over my pussy lips as I come down from my explosion.
The world slowly re-forms around us.
Nothing but the silence of the stacks.
Then I hear the sound of someone returning from break.
Drake Concord rises, pulls my skirt back down, and looks at me while leaning on the stacks.
With hooded sultry eyes, he melts me. I’m not sure who I am anymore. A warm feeling of pure life essence dances through me, around me.
He leans into my ear. “Looks like there isn’t enough time for you to suck my cock, even though I know it’s what you want more than anything.”
My hands find his waist. It’s lean and solid, without an ounce of fat. My fingers hook into the rich leather of his belt.
“I have an appointment downtown,” he says. “So I won’t be here when you get out at five. But don’t worry. You will have the opportunity to suck my cock again, my dirty, filthy slut.”
He growls as he bites my ear. My fingers curl again around the metal girders.
“Not only that, I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you hard and deep and rough... the way you like it. The way you need it. I’m going to drill and pound that sweet pussy into submission, then I’m going to do the same for that virgin asshole. Now go back to work.”
He slaps my ass, then vanishes into the stacks. Like a stealthy assassin, he’s gone.
I straighten up my suit and walk out of the racks into the center of the law library.
Lisa, one of the other girls, is sipping from a water bottle. Her eyes go wide and she stops sipping.
“Oh,” she says, “I didn’t realize you were still in here.”
I smile, unable to form words. I nod and sit back in my spot, still trembling.
“Are you all right?” she says, looking at me oddly.
“Mm-hmmm,” I say.
Yes, I’m all right.
Better than I can remember.
ELEVEN
Ronson
“What did you find?” I say into the phone as I look out the window of my office, the receiver cord stretched almost to its limit. Outside, the lights of Broadway are all lit and dancing as floods of tourists drift by.
“Nothing,” says Sloane Kenner on the other end of the line. “It was mostly orientation. One of the partners went on forever and wasted our time.”
I laugh. “Hamilton.”
“Yes.”
I turn away from the window and look at the tall woman in my client chair. She gives me the get-to-the-point hand signal.
“Did you meet the other partner Drake Concord?” I say.
There is a long pause at the other end of the line. I raise my eyebrows at the woman in the chair.
“Yes,” says Sloane, clearing her throat in an odd way. “I did.”
“Good. Did you at least figure out where the Meridian files might be?”
“Not yet,” she says.
I sigh, trying to read her. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess he fucked her. But she’s not the type. I picked her for the job because she’s sweet and innocent.
“Okay, Sloane,” I say. “Well, tomorrow is day two. Remember, if you get what I need I’ll pay you right away and you don’t have to stay the entire fifty days. The faster you get the Meridian file, the better for both of us.”
The woman in my client chair glares at me. God, I wouldn’t want to mess with her. Her eyes look like they’re lit from behind by the fires of hell.
“Okay,” says Sloane. “I’ll call you tomorrow when I get out at five again.”
“Okay.”
“Bye.”
I hang up the phone, flopping into the old office chair that had been in this office when I first rented it.
The woman in the chair lights a cigarette, never wavering her stare from me.
“She’s in,” I say. “Today was day one. She’s got fifty days.”
The woman blows a puff of smoke and laughs.
“You and I both know that’s not true, Ronson,” she says. “And, I’m not convinced she’s the right girl for the job.”
“You said you wanted a quiet girl with few friends and no living family members. Sweet and innocent. That’s what I found. She’ll get the information. She’ll find Drake Concord’s case files. Then we’ll know if he really is Drake Concord... or what was the name you said?
“I didn’t,” says the tall woman. “What did you tell her when you hired her?”
I chuckle. “Bullshit story about working for Homeland Security. I had to make it sound legit. Even showed her a fake I.D. If she knew I was just a P.I, she wouldn’t have done it. She’s too good a girl.”
I scratch my head and frown. My office chair creaks.
“Miss Smith,” I say. “Let’s say Drake Concord is this other person you’re looking for. What then?”
“That’s none of your concern,” she says as she opens up her black bag and takes out a small thick manila envelope. “I’m not paying you to worry about such things. Just get me proof and this will only be the beginning of your reward.”
The envelope falls onto my desk with a thwack!
The woman gets up and walks to the door. God, she’s tall. At least six feet.
At the door she turns and faces me. She flicks some cigarette ash onto my wall-to-wall carpet.
“And, Mr. Ronson,” she says, “it would behoove you to not ask too many questions. In fact, after this, I suggest you take a vacation. A long one. Somewhere warm, maybe.”
She smiles a devilish grin and walks out.
I breathe a sigh of relief, as I have all three times we’ve met so far. My name glares at me backwards in the frosted glass of my door: Sam Ronson – Private Investigations.
Before I open the envelope, I reach into the drawer of my metal desk and take out a half-pint of Jameson I keep for moments like this.
I’ve been trying to cut back on my drinking lately, but this whole Sloane Kenner mess has me on edge. A tall mysterious woman with a fake name hires me to implant an innocent paralegal into a huge law firm to find out if one of the city’s top attorneys is concealing a fake identity.
Why?
I open the bottle and take a sip. The hot burn fills my throat and stomach with the harsh promise of a forlorn evening.
I turn to the manila envelope and open it.
I whistle out loud as I stare at twenty-five thousand dollars in cold hard cash.
I take another sip.
This is my second payment. Two more promised for this job. A cool hundred grand. One job in which I’ll take home more than a year’s income.
So why am I so bothered? What is it about this tall woman that sets me on edge? Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve set an innocent girl up for something terrible? Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in over my head? Like maybe I’m being set up for something terrible myself?
I take my third swig from the bottle, half of it now gone.
I open my desk drawer and take out a yellow legal pad and a pen.
At the top of the paper I write What I know.
Then I make a list.
Once I’m done, I rip the paper off the pad and put it in a No. 10 envelope.<
br />
I hand address the envelope, seal it, stamp it, and then finish the half-pint of Jameson.
On my walk home, I toss the envelope in a mailbox.
I take the long way home tonight, circling over to Tenth and up past the new construction along the waterfront. I’m acutely aware of the thick manila envelope full of cash in the breast pocket of my jacket.
As I reach the door to my loft, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me.
Quickly, I reach for my gun and spin around.
I’m fast. I was trained in the Army. Been in some situations since then where I had to be quick. It always served me well.
But not tonight.
Because whoever was behind me was faster.
There’s always somebody faster.
I look down at the giant hole in my stomach, bleeding profusely.
As I fall to my knees in my deathward spiral, I look up into the eyes of the person who killed me.
“You?” I say.
Then I crash to the ground and enter eternity.
* * *
Watch for Fifty Days: Book 2 available December 3, 2014!
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Also by Taylor Shade, writing as Skylar Cross:
The Cage Sessions
Controlled by His Voice
Mastered by His Touch
