Griff shoved the past away. He wasn’t looking for love or permanency again. Why fix what wasn’t broken?
“Shall we get to business?” Clarissa said. She strode to the head table, popped open a briefcase, and withdrew a manila folder. She sat down and flipped through it. “Emma Haskins. An interesting case. Very interesting.”
Griffin lifted a brow. He’d not heard her use that term for a job in a long time. He shared a surprised glance with Mason. “Interesting how?”
The woman folded her hands on the table, covering the papers, and looked up at them over her half-moon glasses. She looked as prim and dour as a nun, though her occupation was far from pious.
“She’s completely untutored and curious. She has a wide-open interest in myriad, dark sexual disciplines.” Clarissa slung her jet-black, straight hair over her shoulder and leaned forward, black eyes piercing and intent. “No boundaries.”
Griff stilled, interest immediately flaring. “None?”
“No.” Clarissa sat back, one long fingernail tapping the file folder. “She is just emerging as an interested participant on the BDSM circuit, but she’s going about it haphazardly. Forum boards, chat rooms, online playgroups. You name it, she’s been there. Exposed, vulnerable, and eager to learn.”
“What does that have to do with us?” Mason asked. He lounged in front of the Council table, one lean hip propped casually against the ancient mahogany wood.
Griff stifled a grin at Clarissa’s pointed scowl and Mason’s answering wink. The man loved to tweak the nose of authority, Clarissa’s in particular.
“She’s perhaps too eager at this moment. Her requests for tutoring are bound to attract not only the wrong kind of attention, but perhaps a dangerous type. She has a real and true yen for the lifestyle, but she is in desperate need of guidance.”
She handed over a large, glossy photo.
Griff looked down. The young, studious woman staring back at him created a visceral response against his jeans. Her heart-shaped face, cascading chocolate hair, and luscious pink mouth projected a wholesome, girl-next-door image, but Griff saw the spark of sexual curiosity deep in her green eyes. He caught the not-quite-hidden hunger and eagerness she projected.
He handed it to Mason, who took it and whistled. “What a fox.”
Clarissa tsked. “Yes, she’s an attractive girl, but there is much more to her, and I’m assigning the two of you to show her the ropes.”
Griff chuckled. “Literally?”
Clarissa nodded. “If that is what it takes.” She leaned back, picked up a pen, and twirled it between her fingers, thumping the point on the table on every rotation.
A sense of unease rippled along Griff’s spine. “What’s with the look, Clarissa?”
Mason had shoved away from the table and stood at his shoulder, tension also emanating from him. “Something’s up. What is it?”
The elder sighed and rose gracefully. “You’ve been in service to the Council for more than six years as a team, and we appreciate your talents.” She gave them a smile that did little to appease his growing unease. “Dear ones, I know the heartaches you’ve faced these last few years, the emptiness you have struggled to fill.” She nodded toward the picture in Mason’s hand. “I think this woman could be exactly what you need.”
Griff clenched his fists as ice swept his veins. “We don’t need matchmaking, Clarissa. We’re Enrichers. She’s a job, nothing more.”
“That’s what Alec and Kade thought about Fi. Look how well they’re working out. And she opened more avenues to us, brought a fresh perspective to the Council,” Clarissa argued. “Who’s to say someone else, someone who is not magically enhanced, can’t do the same?”
Griff could not refute her point. Fi McGantry certainly had turned the Council on its ear, but in the best possible way. Since Alec and Kade took her as their lifemate—a concept once thought impossible for Enrichers—she’d found ways to challenge the old and steadfast traditions. In the two years since she’d arrived, Fi had cajoled the elders into reexamining the duties of the Enrichers, arguing they had needs and emotions of their own.
If a job was a job, fine. But if it blossomed into something deep and real, they should be allowed to explore the relationship. She’d also successfully integrated a new recruitment program for Enrichers to help replace those retiring upon finding their lifemates. With the sudden discovery of three—now four—new Enrichers, most of the Council and its employees felt she was blessed. Knowing her origins, Griff wondered if she’d made some kind of deal with the Goddess.
Regardless, because of Fi, new blood, new energy flowed through the corps of the Enrichers and the Council itself. Not since its obscure founding during the Crusades had the Council been so shaken up. Even Clarissa—one of the immortals—had been shocked by the number of new, untapped Enrichers the new system discovered. No one knew just how or when talent would occur, but Fi’s use of Scrys and other meditation techniques was fast proving to be the link the Council had been missing all these years. Clarissa often remarked these days that finding Fi had been a blessing of unparalleled delight.
But Griff was not in the market for a lifemate. When he and Mason joined the Council, they’d both been burned by unfaithful partners, women who professed undying love, only to have someone on the side.
Becoming an Enricher had been the perfect solution. The jobs were set, the parameters strictly defined. They’d helped countless women and couples over the years find their sexual way, renew their bonds, and reinvigorate relationships on the verge of destruction. But he never allowed himself to feel anything deeper than the necessary desire.
He wasn’t ready to change that, either.
Griff shrugged, feeling Mason’s taut figure beside him. He was shielding, hiding his emotions, and Griff had the sinking feeling his partner was more than interested. He’d made no bones about his restlessness the past year. “What if we turn down the job?”
Clarissa sighed. “That is your prerogative, of course, but I think this girl needs the two of you, specifically. Her future is at stake. She is so ripe, one wrong man pretending to be a Dom will ruin her.” Her jaw set mulishly. “And I think you need her, too.”
“Thanks for the guilt trip,” Mason muttered.
A dimple flashed in her cheek.
Griff plucked the photo from Mason’s hand and studied Emma Haskins. She called out to him with those bewitching eyes. It would be a mistake to take the assignment.
“Give her to someone else,” he said and tossed the photo to the table. It spun dizzily before finally ending up facing him.
He narrowed his gaze as he looked at the picture again. Disappointment replaced the sexual hunger on the girl’s face. Impossible. He snatched the glossy image back up and stared into her eyes. Beyond the green sparkle and darkly fringed lashes, he was caught by the demure pleading.
It was as though she was beseeching them personally.
“What the hell?” Mason said beside him. “Don’t I get a say?”
A stab of annoyance blasted through Griff, and he cut a dark glare at Mason. “Knock it off.”
The annoyance subsided. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” Mason said.
Griff nodded. Though Mason was an empath, he also held the ability to magnify emotions, including his own. Both talents came in handy on assignments, but he rarely used them outside the bedroom.
The surge of irritation had been Mason’s, amped and fed by his own frustration.
Griff studied Emma’s fresh face once more then handed the photo to Mason. “Tell her no and see what happens.”
“Huh?” Mason looked at him like he was nuts.
Maybe he was.
“I’m serious. Tell Clarissa we’re not doing the job and watch the eyes in that photo.”
Clarissa’s chuckle was barely audible, but Griff caught it and slanted a suspicious glance her direction. Did she doctor that picture somehow to gain their cooperation?
Mason held the photo at arm’s length
. “Find someone else, Clarissa. We are not taking this job. Holy shit!” He dropped the picture and turned, slack-jawed to stare at Griff. “What the hell was that?”
Griff continued to lock eyes with Clarissa, but her expression gave nothing away. “A challenge, I suspect. We’ll do it. But she’s just a job.”
“Excellent decision, gentlemen.” Clarissa scooped up the image, flipped the folder back open, and grabbed an envelope. A metallic tinkle sounded from inside. “Emma is very open to anything. I will leave the two of you to decide how best to proceed.” She handed the envelope to Griff. “Give her these as proof of your intentions.”
He dumped the contents into his palm. Two shiny quarters rimmed in blue.
“How is this proof?”
“It’s what she tossed into the fountain. And mention that she was with her friend Joel and that he’s perfectly fine and it was only a glancing blow.” Clarissa’s dark eyes clouded for a moment. “Something else is lurking around her, but I have not discovered yet what that is. I only know it’s dangerous. Be on your guard.”
Griff pocketed the coins and turned on his heel, heading down the long aisle of the Council room, Mason at his side.
“Great,” Griff said. “Sex and danger. My two favorite things.”
* * * *
Emma cut the engine, smiling at the throaty growl as her Mustang throttled down. She loved that meaty, powerful sound. She clambered from the car, popped the trunk, and pulled two large nondescript brown bags from within. Joel had been dead on with Cherry, whose helpful, nonjudgmental attitude worked wonders.
Walking into the sex store had been a little difficult, but once inside, the bright openness charmed her, the variety of products stunned and intrigued her, and the selection of movies left her jaw on the ground. She’d obviously led a very sheltered life.
With quick steps, Emma opened the heavy wooden door to her stairwell, then headed up to her apartment. She locked the door, kicked off her shoes, and placed the bags on the low, black wood coffee table.
Emma walked into the kitchen, poured a glass of wine, then headed back into the living room, ready to unveil and inspect her purchases.
Damn, she was excited. The crotch of her panties had been damp from the moment Cherry picked up the first small flogger and demonstrated its light but effective power on her own bare thigh.
Emma pulled the flogger from the bag and stroked the length of its leather handle and down to the somewhat-softer tails of polyester. Cherry assured her it was perfect for a beginner. Enough bite to impart the idea, but not enough to raise a welt.
Next she pulled out a small anal plug. The small toy was red, tapered and terrifyingly exciting. Emma set it to the side, not quite sure she was ready for something so…unknown. A bottle of lube, a string of graduated beads, a silver vibrating egg, and a pair of wide cuffs spilled along the polished wood like marbles on the playground.
The next bag held a riding crop, one that would mark her, however temporarily. The sound of Cherry striking the pliable leather along her thigh and the immediate rise of the red, square welt had brought a sigh of longing from Emma. Cherry had simply winked and dropped the crop into her basket.
From that moment, the salesgirl had taken command, adding a pair of adjustable nipple clamps, a ball gag, a double-pronged dildo meant to pleasure both pussy and ass, plus a strange and realistic-looking cock and sac combo that had a suction cup on the end. Cherry explained how to attach it to the floor or wall and pleasure herself on the length of lifelike silicone. The explanation alone had triggered a mini-orgasm.
Even now, Emma felt a blush creep up her face. She was pretty damn sure Cherry knew what had happened. The woman just smiled and added a length of Japanese silk rope to the basket.
Emma had no idea what to do with half of it, but she was determined to try everything at least once. She looked askance at the plug. Even that. But she probably wouldn’t attempt it tonight.
She took another swig from the wine, looked at her goodies again, and grinned. She was definitely ready to have fun tonight.
She rose and stretched, long and languid, easing the kinks from her back, then checked her watch. Good thing it was Friday. She intended to play as long as her body would allow it. Emma scooped the toys back into their bags and headed for the bedroom. She neatly lined everything on her queen-sized bed, stripped off her clothes, and padded across the room and into the bathroom. Despite living alone for years, she’d never before made that walk naked.
The freedom of doing so, of the wet and slick way her thighs rubbed together at each step, only increased her need. Her pussy lips were full and aching. As she stepped into the bathroom, her toes curled against the cold tile floor. Emma snagged a couple of towels from the linen closet, paused, and stared at herself in the mirror.
An excited flush deepened the rosy hue of her face, and her lips were parted and darkly red. Her breasts swayed with her movements. She shifted the towels and slowly cupped one tit, fingers encircling the nipple.
She hesitated, eyes focused on the stiff nipple now trapped by her fingers, and then slowly she pressed, rubbing lightly as the flesh gave. A sharp lance of pain made her gasp, and she let go.
Her nipple was hot and throbbing, almost bobbing with excitement. Emma lifted her eyes, meeting her own gaze.
She sucked in a deep breath.
Her eyes held the sloe-eyed, sultry look she’d always admired in the sex goddesses of the 50s and 60s. The kind of come-hither enticement that drove men wild.
She cupped her breast again, rubbing lightly over the nipple, back and forth, increasing the friction until the heat was nearly unbearable. She refused to drop her gaze as her breath came out in short, staccato pants.
Her nipple burned, but her clit demanded more. Emma leaned forward, took a deep breath and squeezed the berry tip hard once more.
Harder, hurt me, make me feel it.
She groaned, eyelids drooping even lower as the litany flitted through her mind.
Harder!
Emma squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her hand, biting back frustration as the excitement, the lust, ebbed.
She forced herself to look again, seeing the disappointment she felt clearly etched on her face. Why had she stopped? It was what she wanted, what she craved.
“Do it,” she whispered to herself. “Let yourself go.”
All her life she’d been told to be the good girl, raised to be proper, prim, private. God, her parents would freak if they knew the dark and seething thoughts always at the back of her brain. Even Joel didn’t know the half of it. Sure, he’d picked up on her submissive tendencies, but she’d not shared the absolute lusty thrill of imagining herself being humiliated, used, fucked raw.
“To hell with good,” she muttered. “Good guys finish last, and good girls don’t come hard.” She straightened her shoulders. “Tonight I’m going to be the slut I want to be.”
Just saying the words out loud was a dare, a challenge.
Hell, she’d already gone a step further than ever before by going into Satin Secrets. And if all worked out, she’d do a lot more than just visit a sex store.
A fresh wave of enthusiasm washed over her. Emma spun on her heel and stormed the bedroom. She tossed the towels on the empty pillow next to her and lay down. Shaking her head, she fanned her hair out then set about exploring her own body.
Really exploring. She was all about masturbation, did it frequently, but in a totally vanilla kind of way. A few rubs of her clit, maybe a quick finger inside once or twice, the repetition of a favorite fantasy, and she shivered and convulsed on the bed.
Tonight, though, she wanted it all. She wanted to gasp for breath and make a wet spot on the cream bedspread beneath her.
She took a long, deep breath, exhaled slowly, and lifted her hands to her breasts. Eyes closed, she visualized her body as she touched herself. Soft, warm, taut tit flesh met her fingertips. Her skin was smooth, like brushed silk. The pads of her fingers trailed over her ni
pples, discovering the rougher and more sensitive area. A couple of quick plucks and they were stiff and hard again, eager for more attention.
Emma glided her palms over her rib cage and into the hollow of her stomach. She rimmed her belly button, giggling at the odd sensation. Then, fingers spread wide, she delved into the neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair, spearing through to the insides of her thighs.
She sat up slightly and pushed her legs apart as she stroked back to her pussy.
Cunt.
The word jolted her and she stilled for a moment then relaxed. Yes, cunt.
The dirty, nasty word felt good in her veins. It heated her blood and stoked her need.
She slipped a finger along her slit, not surprised to find it already dripping.
But she wasn’t ready to play just yet. Emma sat all the way up, drew her knees high, and rested her head on them, her hands moving up and down her thighs and calves. Here, the skin was also smooth, but the muscle definition was much stronger. Runner’s legs, Joel called them.
He said her defined, sexy calves and thighs spoke of lean strength.
She liked her legs.
Emma opened her eyes and saw the plethora of toys awaiting her. What to play with first?
Her gaze skittered over the anal plug, the crop, the double-pronged dildo, and finally landed on the suction-cup cock.
Yeah, she wanted that, but decided to work up to it.
She grabbed the double dildo, the nipple clamps and the silver-plated vibrating egg.
The egg slipped into her drenched pussy quick and easy, seating itself deep against her cervix. She lay back and eased on the throttle, gasping at the little shaking rattle of the device. It felt odd. Like one of those weasel balls the toy stores used to have on the floor. Bouncing around and around.
The walls of her pussy clamped down, and she groaned as the vibrations suddenly spread through her entire lower region.
She panted, squeezing again. Then she thumbed the control wheel higher.
Enlightened [Sexual Magic 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 3
