by Jane Henry
I nod. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Bad guys and shit and investigation. I just need him to keep doing what he’s doing.
He suckles my skin in his mouth, then lies me on the bed on my back. Blue eyes boring into mine, he tugs the crumpled jeans that hang around my ankles and tosses them to the floor. I feel like I’m wearing a nightgown or something, dressed only in this enormous top.
He leans over and drags his tongue along my skin. “You taste delicious,” he growls. “Fucking delectable.”
“Delectable,” I repeat with a giggle as his tongue continues to caress my neck.
“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning over me and pressing his warm, heavy body against mine. “Those nipples peaked for me, sweetheart?”
“Oh I don’t know, there was this really hot guy in that room with all the tables—ow!”
I don’t expect the slap that lands on my thigh. “Dude, that hurt.”
“I’ll give you hurt.”
“You already did!”
He shakes his head. “Maybe that was a warm-up,” he says, working his mouth down my neck to my collar bone, trailing the tip of his tongue in warm, sensual swipes. “Maybe you need more. I have some toys in that box over there…”
“Oh my God I know.”
His raspy chuckle makes my nipples pebble. “Got a chance to explore, did you?” he asks.
“You could say that—aaaaahhhh.” I lose the ability to speak as now he’s lifted my top, the fabric bunching, and his tongue is now swirling deliciously along my navel while his calloused thumbs graze my nipples.
“You need more, baby?” he asks. “Go ahead. Beg.”
“You son of a bitch,” I say with a laugh. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a control freak?” I playfully slap at him, but he grabs my hands and entwines his fingers in mine, pinning my hands to the bed. “Baby, you’re incorrigible,” he says. “Knew I should’ve spanked you harder. Should’ve used my belt.”
“Mmmm,” I moan.
“Should’ve whipped your ass,” he says with a chuckle, biting the sensitive skin at my side, a sting of pain that only ignites my fire.
“Dude, laughing while you threaten to whip my ass isn’t gonna really get the point across.”
He pushes himself up and his brows furrow, his lips turn down in a frown and suddenly my dimpled-tormentor looks stern as fuck. “That better?”
I blink and don’t respond, so he gives me a wicked grin. “That’s what I thought.” Eyes on me, he lowers his mouth to my nipple while his hand dips between my thighs.
Oh. Fuck. Yes. My eyes roll back in my head and I throw my head back.
“That’s it,” he coaxes as my back arches. “Take it, babygirl. Chase it. You took your punishment so now you take what’s yours. Milk those fingers and let yourself fly.”
It’s all I need. At the first stroke of his fingers I was ready to come, and now I can hardly keep myself from losing total control.
His raspy, sexy voice pushes me over the edge and I come with abandon, tossing my head back as I scream his name and he milks every last drop of bliss from me. I fall back on the bed, suddenly exhausted. I can hardly move. I can barely even think.
He lies down beside me and pulls me up next to him. I breathe him in and just lie here.
“All better?” he asks.
“That your gig? You punish girls and then make them climax and call it a day?” I’m teasing him, but there’s a hint of jealousy in my voice even I recognize. I don’t like the idea of him with another girl.
He only growls in response and changes the subject.
“You look around this room?” he asks, a smile tipping his lips up and that adorable dimple showing.
“Oh yeah,” I say, scrambling back on the bed to get more comfortable. “Checked out alllll the kinky toys.”
He chuckles, a low, sexy sound that makes me smile myself. The way he hitches his thumbs in the loops on his jeans makes my stomach do a little flip, like he’s only playing casual but capable of much, much more. My mind immediately goes to the spanking he gave me in my kitchen, the tug of his fingers in my hair, the night we spent together.
One corner of his lips quirks up. “And anything interest you?”
I shrug. “Maybe? I don’t know.” I need to throw up my walls. My voice tightens as I speak to him. “I’ll tell you one thing that doesn’t. Keep that hood away from me. No hoods. I don’t know what the fuck they’re for, but I want no part of that.”
He sobers, the smile leaving his eyes and his shoulders noticeably tense. “Hood?”
I swallow. “Well, there’s some kinda black thing in there.”
He pushes off the bed and walks over to the other side of the room, then opens the case where I was investigating earlier. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that. I never used it. Don’t need to. I’d prefer just telling you to close your eyes and making sure you did what you were told.”
“I saw a crazy looking hood in the kinky room,” I say, earning a growl from him. Oh yeah. I wasn’t supposed to be in that room. Oops.
“Want to tell me what else you saw in the dungeon?” he asks sternly.
Hearing him say “dungeon” makes my reality sink in.
I’m so in over my head.
“I saw a lot of things,” I say truthfully. “And really, Brax, I have no idea what the hell most of it is.”
“Good,” he says, looking strangely pleased. “So did you see a black hood with a hole cut into it in the dungeon?”
I heart pounds just listening to him talk about it. “Yeah. What the hell is that?”
“Sensory deprivation hood,” he says. “It’s… maybe a little more hardcore than you’re used to. Not sure. Takes away sight and sound and scent… well, everything but the ability to breathe, really.”
“Looks fucking terrifying.”
“Some bottoms really like them.”
“Ok, so I don’t think you’re talking about my ass.” I’ve looked some things up, but I want to hear his explanation.
He sits on the edge of the bed. “A top is the one in control in a scene, and a bottom is the one on the receiving end.”
“Oh. So I’m the bottom? That’s weird.”
He snorts. “If it helps, you’re a very cute bottom.”
I smile and close my eyes. It’s been a long fucking day and I need some rest. Tomorrow, I find out what Myers knows and check in with Zack. For now, I just need some sleep.
I feel the bed rise as he gets to his feet. “I have to go to the dungeon. I’m on tonight, but I’m going home early.”
I nod. “Okay.” I’m curious what he does as dungeon monitor, and part of me wonders if there’s any way I can sneak in and see, when his voice cuts into my thoughts.
“And don’t you even think about coming in there. You got it?” His harsh tone catches my attention and I open my eyes back up.
“Who, me?”
“Zoe,” he says, hands anchored on his hips as he glares at me. “I catch you leaving this room and you’ll wish you hadn’t. I’ve taken it easy on you. Way too easy on you. Got it?”
“Got it.”
I’m not his submissive and I won’t obey him. But tonight, I can play along.
Chapter 7
Brax
I’m a douchebag for taking advantage of her. I know this.
I decide it won’t happen again.
Two days pass, then three, and Myers has done shit all to help shed light on what’s going on. He says he’s investigated every possible angle, and despite the promise to help clarify what our problem is, he’s spinning his wheels. I visit Zoe every chance I can get. She’s getting stir crazy, though, I know. I brought her some books and gave her access to a spare laptop Tobias had in his office, but she looks angrier and angrier every time I go to see her.
Zack’s been held up on a case, but finally, I get ahold of him. We’ve had to put off her transformation, which means she’s had to stay in the room more or less, and she’s not happy about it. Today, Beatrice will do magic with her hair, and then
she should get a little of her freedom back. We sit at the bar area, and her eyes keep roaming over there, as if she feels the pull of the alcohol. I suspect she hasn’t been keeping away.
“Zack, please, tell me what the fuck is going on,” Zoe says, leaning back in the little chair on the side of the circular red table. Zack frowns at her tone. He doesn’t like when Beatrice swears, but he won’t say anything to Zoe. At least, he’d better not. She’s mine, and she’s allowed to say whatever the fuck she wants to.
I blink, surprised at the possessive flair that wells in my chest unbidden.
Zack runs a hand through his sandy hair and blows out a breath. “For starters, your job is secure. As far as the NYPD knows, you’re on a leave of absence for a family emergency with an indefinite return date. So far everyone’s bought that without question, and there’s no need for us to push that further.”
Her lips thin. “Fair enough.” Her face looks a little paler, and there are dark circles under her eyes. Is she sleeping badly? I wouldn’t know. I’ve kept contact with her to a bare minimum, so I can keep her safe and keep my fucking hands off her at the same time. “At least I don’t have to worry about that.”
“I think at this point it’s best for us to investigate on our own. We don’t know who we can trust within the NYPD and contacting anyone there puts you at serious risk.”
“Of course.” Zoe agrees.
“Can you tell me what you know, and maybe we can start putting things together? Let’s take it from where we left off,” Zack says. “Pretend I know nothing and start from the top.”
“Yeah, of course,” she says. “So I was dating Ben Hoffman a few months ago when I was in grad school, taking one of Zandetti’s courses. One night I was at his house, and I intercepted a text that instructed him to end the life of Zandetti. Next day, the professor went missing and was later found dead. I know he had a wife, but I don’t know anything about her. I do know these people were targets, and that’s why they were killed.”
I nod. This much I can fill in.
“Right. I know a little more about her,” I say.
For some reason Zoe’s jaw tightens and her eyes go impossibly narrower. What the hell?
“Go on,” she says in a voice laden with sarcasm. “Do tell.”
Zack seems to ignore her anger, as his gaze is fixed firmly on me. I want to know what the fuck she’s so pissed about though. I ignore her glare—we’ll get to the bottom of that later—and instead I explain to Zack what I’ve found out.
“First, Daniel Zandetti, our victim. He was named academic specialist at NYCU and he was given millions in grant money. Seventy-five percent of that came from Homeland Security. He was on a whole bunch of major panels. Zandetti knew there was a breach in security and illegal drugs were crossing the border. This is all on public record.”
Zack pipes in. “Antonia Zandetti, a journalism professor, worked closely with an investigative reporter she was tight with. After Zandetti’s death, both the reporter and Antonia Zandetti went missing.”
Zoe nods. “And no one’s heard from either one of them since.”
I don’t realize I’m clenching my fists until I see my hand, white-knuckled and fisted under the table.
Two now dead. Two gone missing, likely also victim to whoever breached security or whoever Zandetti targetted. And one woman caught in the crossfire, who sits at the table now in front of me and only because I’m making her. If she had her way she’d be on the street this very minute, guns blazing, ready to take down the ones responsible for the deaths of innocents.
“Not exactly,” a voice startles us all, as Beatrice comes into the bar area from the private rooms, where she was preparing a makeshift hair salon. Her blonde hair is tucked into a bun at the nape of her neck, giving us a clear view of her slightly-flushed cheeks. “Did you say Antonia Zandetti?”
“Beatrice,” Zack warns. He keeps his wife out of all of his detective work, both for legal and safety reasons.
Beatrice looks at him. Damn, I know that look. She’s as feisty as Zoe for Christ’s sake. “Zack, I wasn’t eavesdropping and up until like thirty seconds ago I had no idea what was going on. But I heard you mention Antonia Zandetti.”
Zack grunts, and we all wait for her to continue. Zoe looks especially curious.
“I knew her. She was a client of mine.” Beatrice looks to Zoe. “Associate professor at NYCU, right? Tiny woman with thick black hair, olive skin, and a really fit little figure? She was a runner.”
Zoe nods. “Yup. That was her.”
“She did go missing at the time of her husband’s death, but her body was never found. I know because the girls at the salon and I read everything we could get our hands on regarding her disappearance. But there was something we knew that never made it to the papers.”
Zack raises a curious brow and Zoe leans in closer as Beatrice continues, her eyes bright. “Antonia was having an affair with a man who owned property on Cape Cod. I know this might sound far-fetched, but you need to realize that people treat their hairdressers like they’re part-confidante and part-shrink. We know whose kid got into what college, who’s filing bankruptcy, and who’s having an affair. People are loose lipped while in our chairs.”
Zoe nods. “This is true. So you think it’s possible Antonia sought safety with the man she was sleeping with? And she isn’t dead?”
Beatrice shrugs. “I have no idea. But it’s an avenue you might want to pursue.” She looks steadily at Zack. “Do you have any other leads?”
Zack’s eyes narrow on her. “That’s not for you to know, Beatrice.” He stands up. “Why don’t you two go take care of Zoe’s hair and Brax and I will look into this.”
Beatrice nods, but Zoe’s on her feet, glaring at Zack. “We women can go take care of hair and you menfolk will go take care of the real business? Is that what you’re saying? For fuck’s sake, Zack, is this 1952?”
Now it’s my turn to wade in. “Zoe, leave it,” I snap. “He didn’t say that at all.”
She rounds on me. “As if I do what you tell me?” She raises her eyes heavenward. “Honest to God, it’s like hanging with a bunch of Neanderthals.” She looks to Beatrice. “Let’s get this done so I can get out of here and take care of things myself.”
The two of them walk to the private rooms, and Zack looks to me in bewilderment. We wait until the green room door shuts fast, then Zack turns to me.
“Jesus, you let her talk to you that way?”
“She isn’t mine, man,” I ground out. Wish to God she was. I’d have something to say about quite a few things.
“Not yours?” he asks, tipping his head to the side curiously. “And yet, you’ve got her holed up in your private room at a kink club. Explain that to me?”
“Like I said before, it’s just to keep her safe while we investigate, okay? She was the one who came to Myers and I made her come here because she’s obviously on someone’s radar.”
“Right,” Zack says, shaking his head. “And you two just, what? Play Rummy in that room or something?” His eyes are twinkling at me, but not for long as I play-jab him in the gut. “Oof. Jesus. Can dish it out but can’t take it, huh? You’ve been giving me shit since the day we met.”
“And I’ll keep giving you shit until the day I die,” I say. “I’m gonna fill Myers in and have her look into this place on the Cape.”
Zack nods. “Let me know what you find. My folks are there, and I know the area well.” He takes off to check in with Tobias in the office, and I check my email on my phone in the hopes that Myers has any news, but there’s nothing. I glance at the time. I have Devin’s art show at school in an hour. She’ll spend the night with her mom, but I’ve already promised I’ll go to her show. I know Devin’s got some kinda recital thing she’s doing later this week, and my mind is on making sure I’ll have the time to get there and how I’ll do it without dealing with Nichole and her drama, when I head to my room. It’s been a good thirty minutes, so I figure the girls have had e
nough time to finish.
I slide in the key to unlock the door to my room and open it. At first, I don’t see the girls, but I can hear them chattering away in the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and look around the room. I’ve hardly stepped foot in here in days. It looks the same, just cleaner, and it was pretty damn clean before. The floor is spotless, the windows crystal clear, not a speck of dust to be seen. Zoe’s been busy. The laptop I brought her as a loan sits on a side table, and the bed is made. God, she must hate being locked up in here like this.
“Oh I don’t know.” I hear Zoe’s voice from the open bathroom. “It was just a one-night stand. He doesn’t really have any interest in me. You warned me to stay away and I should’ve listened. I’m not one of you guys.”
Her head is in the sink and she’s tipped back, and Beatrice whips her head around to stare at me. When she catches my gaze, she narrows her eyes as if to scold me. I shrug. What the hell?
“I did warn you,” Beatrice says to Zoe, but her gaze is steadily fixed on me. I give her a ‘what the fuck’ look because she might not be my sub, but it’s still not cool to shoot daggers at me like that. “I didn’t think you were into kink, and Brax lives and breathes it.” She sits Zoe up and wraps her head in some sorta plastic thing. Now Zoe is looking at me, too.
“I wouldn’t know,” she says, unabashed. “Haven’t had a chance to check it out.” Bullshit. I’ve spanked her a few times already.
Hardly a kink show, the voice in my head says.
I blow out a breath. “You girls talking about me as if I’m not even here?” I roll my eyes heavenward and pretend to take a knife out of my chest. “Et tu, Brute?”
Beatrice helps Zoe to her feet and walks her into the room. Zoe has something draped around her shoulders to keep her clothes clean.
“Oh, stop the drama, Brax,” Beatrice says, rolling her eyes at me. “Listen, this dye has to sit for thirty minutes before I can do anything, so I’m just gonna step out and catch up with Zack. He’s been on a case and I haven’t really seen him in a few days. That’ll give you two a chance to catch up.” She gives me a coy grin, and Zoe sticks her tongue out at her, then Beatrice leaves, the door clicking with finality. The second it does, Zoe drops all manner of civility and glares at me.
