by Ivy Barrett
“You’re mocking me,” he grumbled, unwilling to unleash his temper on a matronly woman.
“And you’re mocking love.” She pushed to her feet and stood over him, hands on her hips. “It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it’s wild and wonderful. Grab the gift with both hands and refuse to let go.”
“I’m not in love with Tamara.”
“Bullshit.” The expletive was shocking coming from such a prim and proper lady. “You were half-crazed by the thought of her peril. You’re infuriated by your helplessness. ‘If Mercer touches her, I’ll kill him.’ Isn’t that what you said? That doesn’t sound like a passing fancy to me.”
She was right. His feelings for Tamara were far stronger than they had been for any other woman. His heart didn’t seem to care that they hadn’t known each other long or that he was far beneath her social station. He’d sensed the connection when they first met eight months ago, but he’d refused to pursue the attraction. He’d known her life would be simpler—and cleaner—without him in it.
He gazed past Elaine into the night, his heart aching with the reality of his situation. “She deserves more.”
Elaine touched his cheek, her fingertips warm and smooth. “You underestimate yourself. You might have chosen a risqué profession, but I have seldom met a more honorable man.”
* * * * *
“You said you knew someone who could identify this mystery man from your vision.” Sarcasm dripped off Mercer’s every word.
Tamara rubbed the back of her neck. They had been at this for hours. Drake had been in the room for the first two, so Mercer had remained mostly civil. Then someone knocked on the door to the stark cubicle in which they’d imprisoned her and Drake had left with the intruder. With Drake gone, Mercer had grown bolder and more obnoxious with each question.
“You don’t believe in visions, so the rest is moot.”
Mercer made a sound part scoff and part snort, a uniquely Mercer sound she had come to hate. “I think this entire conversation is moot. You have opportunity, motive and—”
“I want my lawyer. Jericho’s right. There’s no point talking to you.”
He shoved his chair back and stood so fast his chair toppled. For a moment he just glared at her then he turned toward the door and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Propping her elbows on the table, she covered her face with her hands. They were watching every move she made and she needed to think. Had Jericho contacted Elaine? Why had Drake deserted her to that asshole? She’d never been so exasperated or felt so helpless.
As her emotions settled and her mind focused, she sensed the psychic thread connecting her with Jericho. They’d only communicated telepathically when they were right next to each other. Would he be able to hear her now?
She summoned the link, picturing it clearly in her mind. Are you there, Jericho?
Where else would I be?
His immediate response filled her with hope and strength. She wasn’t going through this alone. Did you reach Elaine?
Been there and back, but she was one step ahead of us, as usual. Her contact is here going over his surveillance log with Drake and Drake’s supervisor.
That explained the interruption. Drake hadn’t abandoned her. He was working on a new strategy. Does it prove where I was when Morton was murdered? Will this force them to let me go?
It’s not open and shut, as we’d hoped. But this punches some serious holes in their theory. Hope surged across their link and she smiled. They just walked past the lobby. You should know something momentarily.
She heard footsteps outside the door as Jericho finished his thought. The lock hissed then deactivated and Drake and Mercer returned. Mercer looked annoyed. Drake was unreadable, as usual.
“As I believe you’re aware, Elaine VinDerley hired a man to track your activities,” Drake began. “This is precariously close to stalking and I will speak with her regarding the practice if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“We’re in direct contact now, so there’s no need for the other.”
He accepted her decision with a nod. “Fortunately for you, Petro, her spy, keeps detailed notes and makes frequent video entries. The timeline created by this log makes it nearly impossible for you to have committed the murder.”
“Nearly impossible,” Mercer stressed. “You are still a person of interest.”
“However, we believe we have all we need from you right now. Notify us if you return to d’Arrest, and you are not allowed to leave coalition space until this case is resolved.”
“I understand.” Relief zinged through her veins, making it incredibly hard not to smile. “Will there be anything else?”
“Not at present,” Mercer begrudgingly admitted.
“You’re free to go,” Drake assured.
Unable to contain her joy, Tamara let out a happy cry, reached across the table and hugged Drake then flew from the room in search of Jericho.
* * * * *
Fenton watched the knife blade slice through the taught fabric between Serra’s pert breasts. The young woman cried out behind her gag, helplessly tugging against the cords binding her to the metal chair. Vic had been off work for almost two hours. The fool must have stopped at a bar or met a secret lover for a quick and dirty fuck before he returned to his pathetic apartment.
“If loverboy doesn’t get home soon, he’s going to miss all the fun,” he whispered the threat in her ear, and watched a fresh batch of tears roll down her flushed cheeks.
Almost as if cued by the threat, the front door rattled as someone struggled with the ancient mechanical lock. He moved behind his captive and positioned the knife point against her throat as he tugged one side of her bra down.
“There you are,” Fenton drawled, and Vic staggered to a stop just inside the door. “Close the door, unless you want any passerby to see Serra’s pretty titties.”
Vic slammed the door and tossed his backpack aside as he rushed across the room.
“Think,” Fenton pinched her nipple, making her cry out, “before you act.” Vic stopped two steps away, hands clenched at his sides, nostrils flaring.
“I did what you said!” His panicked gaze moved to her exposed breast and a crazed little moan tore from his throat. “You promised.”
“The situation has changed. Kacey’s claim needs to be reinforced.” He used the knife point to slice through her bra and move the cups aside. “You will go to the Enforcers and explain about the depraved weekend you spent fucking Tamara Owens.”
Vic’s gaze pleaded with Serra while he silently shook his head.
“You will tell them she was regretful of the encounter before the cum dried on her thighs. She threatened each of you before you left the hotel and later with vidcoms and text messages. You were terrified that Serra would find out what you’d done, so you destroyed the evidence.”
“It’s our word against hers. They won’t believe she killed someone to cover up one wild weekend.”
“You will make them believe Mort mocked her and challenged her and finally blackmailed her.” He trailed the knife point across Serra’s chest then down one arm.
“It’s still my word against hers.”
“But you have a dead body to back up your story.”
“Why are you doing this?” He threw up his hands, his voice shrill. “What did Tamara do to you?”
Fenton straightened and gestured with the knife. “You worry about what I’m going to do to Serra if you fail me. I can make her suffer in ways you don’t want to contemplate.”
“I’m not a good liar,” he cried. “They’ll never believe me.”
With the flick of his wrist, he pricked her nipple, drawing forth one vivid red drop of blood. Then he leaned down and captured the drop with the tip of his tongue, savoring the sharp, salty taste. “I’ve forgotten more about pain than most people know. You will find your inner actor and give the performance of your life because Serra will pay the price if you don’t.”
Vic calmed, and icy determination spread across his features. “That better be the last drop of blood you draw from her. Understood?”
Fenton inclined his head and smiled as he moved the knife away from the sobbing woman. “That’s more like it. Now go. Make me proud.”
Chapter Ten
Tamara looked around the penthouse apartment Jericho called home and couldn’t help but smile. It was even more lavish than the suite he’d assigned for her use. “It’s…quaint.”
The ridiculous understatement made him laugh. “Do you have a problem with luxury?”
“No. It just hardly looks lived in. Do you have the hotel staff clean up here?”
“Of course.”
“Do you ever entertain?”
“Up here?” She nodded. “Why would anyone want to come up here when the rooms downstairs are so much more entertaining?”
He had a point. “And you eat in the restaurants or order room service.” She looked around. “Is there even a kitchen up here?”
“Kitchenette.” He motioned toward the area that was more a wet bar than a kitchen.
“Your lifestyle is definitely interesting.”
He closed the distance between them and placed his hands on her hips. “Do you think you could learn to adjust?”
The question surprised her. The Enforcers might have let her go, but the murderer was still out there. “I can’t think that far ahead right now.”
His gaze searched hers and his features looked particularly rugged with a couple days’ whiskers shadowing his jaw. “I don’t do this.” He spoke soft and low, making the words intimate and important. “I don’t fall for a woman I hardly know.”
She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. Had he just said he’d fallen for her? “Jericho, don’t.” She placed her fingers against his lips, but her rebellious heart was already beating like a captive bird. “Everything is crazy right now. What we’re feeling might be real or it might be an adrenaline high. We have to make it through this crisis and see how we feel once things settle down.”
“I know. I’ve told myself the same thing a thousand times.” He raised his hand and curved his fingers against her skull, the gesture intimate yet aggressive. “The harder I fight my feelings for you, the more I want you.”
Her gaze drifted down to his mouth as she said, “So stop fighting.”
He accepted the invitation with a sexy little growl, his mouth immediately covering hers. She parted for him, tilting her head to bring their lips into better alignment. No one kissed like Jericho. Her entire body came alive when his lips moved against hers and her core ached when his tongue possessed her mouth. Their breaths mingled and their tongues twined, and she pressed against his warm body.
Without releasing her mouth, Jericho swept her up in his arms and carried her through the apartment. She didn’t look where they were going, didn’t care where they ended up as long as they were together.
He set her down beside the bed in a large, masculine bedroom. Unlike the rest of the apartment, Jericho’s personality was evident here. The rich jewel tones of the comforter were echoed in the drapes—both were lush without being ostentatious. The door to the walk-in closet was mirrored and angled perfectly to display what happened on the bed. It was naughty yet subtle enough that a casual visitor might not understand its purpose.
Taking advantage of her distraction, Jericho quickly undressed. By the time she had finished her visual tour, he was naked and ready to assist her with her clothes. She shrugged off the trench coat and kicked off the stilettos, thrilled to have her toes free of the punishing footwear.
“Leave the stockings,” he suggested in a passion-thickened tone. “They do amazing things to your legs.”
She unzipped the flirty little skirt and wiggled out of it while he attacked the laces on the back of the bustier. Once he peeled the boned garment away from her torso, she was left wearing a black lace thong and the matching thigh-high stockings.
And the thrall collar, she realized belatedly. She touched the soft velvet, fascinated by what it signified. If she accepted such a collar for real, her body would belong to Jericho. She would obey him without question or hesitation, because she would know that she could trust him to bring her pleasure and happiness.
“You can take it off, if it’s bothering you.” He stood behind her, watching her in the mirror. “But I admit it makes me hot.”
“Have you ever had a pleasure slave, for real?”
“I enjoy incorporating bondage and the occasional spanking into my routine, but I’m not part of the lifestyle.”
Unsure why she always felt kinky when she was with Jericho, she moved to the bed and bent over the side. She rested her forearms on the bed and wiggled her bottom. “I think it’s time for one of your occasional spankings.”
He was behind her in an instant, squeezing her ass cheeks as he groaned. She could see him in the mirror, his eyes were closed and his features tensed with something akin to pain. Without opening his eyes, he began to touch her. He stroked from the small of her back to her knees, learning her shape and her texture without benefit of sight.
“You are so soft.” His fingers eased into her crack passing over her anus in a light, teasing caress. She shivered. This is what she wanted, what she’d asked for, yet it was still new, still a bit intimidating. “And so responsive.” He delved between her thighs, exploring her slick folds and the snug passage between. Now this was familiar. She understood the sensations, had no fear of the destination.
He pulled the thong down slowly, allowing her to feel the resistance against her thighs. When the thin straps banded her knees, he stopped, leaving the garment stretched, making her look disheveled. He bent and licked his way from the small of her back to the curve of one ass cheek. She couldn’t see his expression now, but she could feel his rapid breaths against her skin. He was excited by these discoveries.
His teeth nipped her bottom, first one side then the other. She gasped and tensed, but he grabbed the front of her thighs and pressed her against his face. His tongue found her clit as his lips moved against her folds. He sucked and licked with shocking thoroughness, touching places he’d never touched before. The first time his tongue brushed over her anus, she thought it had been accidental, but he did it again and again. And it felt amazing.
She grasped the bedding and bit back a scream. She’d never dreamed she could find such things pleasurable until she met Jericho. He pushed her boundaries and freed her from pointless inhibitions, allowing her to feel sensations unavailable to her before.
Her inner muscles tensed and an orgasm hovered just out of reach—and suddenly he pulled his mouth away. “Jericho!”
“Right here, love.” His hand connected with her bottom, the sting shocking and…surprising. Heat spread across her skin and her clit twitched in needful protest.
Before she could fully recover from the first swat, he dealt her another. Soon both cheeks burned and her core smoldered, lust making her restless and hot. Wiggling her hips sent the heat deeper into her body, but she couldn’t hold still. She arched her back and clenched her inner muscles, desperate for something she didn’t quite understand.
“Had enough?”
“No.” She tossed back her hair and canted her hips. “I need… I don’t know what I need.”
Without warning, his cock thrust into her pussy and she came in hard, fast spasms. “You’re so wet, it’s running down your thighs. I think I can guess.” He held her hips and moved with a strong, steady rhythm. Each time his groin connected with her sensitive skin, it revitalized the heat.
She cried out and came again, shocked by her reaction. Why weren’t these orgasms slowing her down? Her body would crest, but there was no sleepy lull once the spasms passed.
After her third orgasm, he pulled out, leaving her breathless and stunned.
“We’ve got to slow down or my heart’s going to explode.”
She smiled, understanding the feeling all too well
. They pulled down the bedding and crawled between the sheets. He stretched out on his side, so she did the same. Guiding her top leg onto his hip, he easily found her entrance. She pulled herself closer and their bottom legs entwined bringing their pelvises into sweet alignment.
They were face-to-face now, breast to chest and skin on skin. He covered her mouth with his and started a rolling motion that created a slow burning fire. They kissed and touched, his body sliding in and out of hers.
He pulled back and stared into her eyes, revealing emotions he’d never shown her before. Their psychic connection came alive and affection flowed into her mind. Regardless of her warnings, or her desire to take things slow, he had fallen for her. There was no denying the love radiating into her soul.
Her heart quickened, ready to respond with equal intensity, but her logical mind jerked the feelings back. It was too soon. They were drunk on danger. This couldn’t be real.
His strokes sped and his hips arched, driving his cock deeper inside her. With a muffled cry, he swept her beneath him and caught the underside of her knees. He lifted her as he drove his full length into her, each sharp thrust radiating through the rest of her body.
She watched his face, moved by the ferocity of his passion. He was savage and possessive, and it thrilled her to the marrow of her bones. Their gazes locked—his drilling into hers as tangibly as his shaft filled her pussy. They were blended, entwined, together. As they were meant to be!
Pleasure burst within her, driving rational thought from her mind. He collapsed on top of her, shuddering violently as release rolled through him as well. She welcomed his weight and the completeness of being with him as power surged within her. Her breath caught and she braced for the coming vision, but the images just slipped away.
He had the presence of mind to roll them back to their sides, sparing her his weight while maintaining their physical connection. She released her pent-up breath, confused yet relieved that her ability had apparently misfired.
She didn’t speak, refused to ruin the perfection with her niggling worries. This felt so wonderful, so right. And even if it wasn’t real, if the intensity faded with the drama, she refused to regret the time she’d spent in his arms.
