by KD Robichaux
She gives in for a few seconds before she pushes at my chest, and I let her wiggle her way out from under me as she dances over to the bathroom. From my view from the bed, I can see her shapely legs and the roundness of her perfect ass peeking out from beneath my shirt as she bends over the sink, brushing her teeth quickly.
She prances back to me on her toes before hopping onto the bed on her knees beside me. “Wanna see?” she asks.
I reach for the bottom of the shirt, saying, “I always wanna see.” But she bats my hand away, giggling.
“The pictures I took, silly,” she clarifies, and I grin, placing my hands behind my head on the pillow as I enjoy the hopeful look in her eyes.
“Of course I do,” I reply, and she squeaks as she reaches across me to the nightstand, where her camera is resting. With her knees on one side of my body, while she balances on one arm on the other side as she stretches for her equipment, I can’t help my wandering hand as I slide it up the back of her thigh, palming the luscious globe of her ass. I massage the healthy amount of meat there, seeing her arm holding her up give out momentarily before she catches herself. I smirk to myself, knowing my touch affects her, before she sits up on her knees and swats my hand away.
She scoots until she’s lying cuddled up close to my side, her head using my bicep as a pillow as I place my hand back behind my head. She pushes a few buttons on the black camera, and the big screen on the back of it below the viewfinder glows to life.
“Wanna play a game?” she purrs, and I turn my face to rest my nose at the top of her head, breathing in her scent.
“What kind of game?”
“It’s a game Lyra and I play when we’re being creepers. We make up stories about the people who pass by. We played it last night as I was snapping these pictures, so it’ll be interesting to hear what you see when you look at the person in the shot,” she explains.
I smile against her hair. She’s the only person who can get me to slow down enough to lie around and play a silly game, especially when I have an open case to handle. She doesn’t even have to try to force me, either. I agree willingly, without a struggle, just because it’s something she wants from me. If Clarice wants to play a game, by God, I’m gonna play that damn game as long as she wants. Anything to spend time with her and make her happy.
“Okay, how about this guy?” she prompts, showing me a photo of a man in his late twenties dressed in a tuxedo. She zooms in a couple of clicks, and I see he’s holding an umbrella over a woman’s head as she gets into a yellow taxi.
“Hm. They’re going to an opera, or more likely a Broadway show, seeing how we’re in New York. He doesn’t really want to see it, but if he wants to get under that expensive skirt she’s wearing, he has to put in the effort,” I answer.
She chuckles. “We said he was her kept man, seeing how she looks to be quite a few years older than him.”
“Good one.” I nod, and watch her flip to the next picture.
“All right, this lady.” She zooms in again. This woman is in a black trench coat carrying a black leather bag. Her dark hair is sleek, falling almost to her ass.
“Dominatrix. She’s on her way inside the hotel to meet up with her pudgy, hairy John who has hired her to walk on him with her stilettos while telling him he’s a bad little boy,” I reply, and she lowers the camera to her chest as her head tilts back and she bursts into laughter.
“Oh my God. That is so close to what I said! I instantly thought of Angelina Jolie in Mr. and Mrs. Smith.” She turns her head enough to look me in the eyes briefly before hers fall to my lips. I lean over and press a gentle kiss against hers, and then pull away, indicating the camera with a chin lift.
“What else you got?” I ask, and she smiles, obviously loving that I’m playing her game with enthusiasm.
“Here’s a good one. What about this couple? We had a juicy story for them,” she questions eagerly, flipping to another picture and zooming in.
They’re directly across the street from where she sat at the café, which means they were at the entrance to the hotel where we’re currently staying. Their bodies are half hidden behind a car as it passes by. The woman looks so familiar. She’s wearing a simple but well-fitted gray dress, and her hair is in a ponytail. Her face is clean of all makeup, and she’s very pretty. But it’s when I take a closer look at the man that I realize who they are. The man is in a nice tailored suit. His hair is perfectly quaffed, and his beard is groomed to the point it looks painted on his face.
Jean LaRue and Quincy Herald.
“Holy fuck!” I sit up abruptly, pulling the camera out of her hands and pushing the button I saw her using to zoom in on the photo.
“What is it?” Clarice asks, her voice full of concern.
“Baby. Holy shit. That’s them! That’s who I’ve been looking for. She’s the missing person, and he’s the guy who kidnapped her,” I say excitedly, hopping out of bed and grabbing my cell from the nightstand, where I’d set it before crawling into bed with her.
“Well, that’s definitely not the juicy story we had for them,” she gripes, pouting as she plops back on the pillow as I call Seth.
“What’s up, man?” he answers, sounding groggy.
“I need you to get out of bed and hustle over to your spaceship,” I tell him, referring to the giant computer setup he has in his apartment.
“On it.” I hear the rustling of sheets as he hurries out of his bed, and I vaguely hear Twyla asking if he’s okay. “Everything’s fine, doll. Go back to sleep,” he tells her, and then the sound of his computer chair being rolled back fills my ear. “Okay, what you need?”
“The hotel I’m at, the Fleur de Lis Hotel in Manhattan. What can you tell me about it?”
He types rapidly, and after a minute says, “Son of a bitch.”
“What?” I bark, my adrenaline pumping through my system.
“It’s not public record, so I had to do something not quite legal. But it’s a boutique hotel owned by none other than Jean LaRue,” he replies, and I set the camera down on the mattress before pointing a finger at Clarice, giving her a grin before jerking my fist back in a silent Yes!
“How the hell did we not know this shit?” I ask Seth.
“We only searched for LaRue Hotels and Suites, because that’s the only thing they had in the information from his profile. It doesn’t come up as a place of residence for him. And the way I had to dig, it’s like he kept it as a secret location. A hideaway,” he explains, all the while typing on his keyboard. “Motherfucker. There he is!”
“What?” I bark again, hating I can’t see what he’s pulled up on his screen.
“Tapped into the surveillance. Guess he didn’t think he needed to turn them off here if it was unknown he owned the place. He’s there… and…” He continues to type. “Looks like they’re in room 703.”
“Got it. Thanks, Seth,” I say, and hang up. Hurrying to the foot of the bed, I pull my boots back on and quickly tie them. I move over to the safe in the closet and punch in my code, pulling my handgun out and tucking it in the back of my jeans.
“What’s happening?” Clarice asks, sitting up on the bed, her face showing an uncharacteristic amount of worry I’m not used to seeing on her.
I take two strides, reaching her and wrapping my arm around her lower back. I pull her to me in one scoop, her soft front molding to my hardness. “You found her, baby. You saved her,” I tell her, and I kiss her fiercely before letting her go and moving toward the door. “She’s here, in this hotel. Right under our goddamn noses.”
“Can’t you… like, call the police or something?” Her voice is small, and it makes me turn back to face her.
My brow furrows as I take in her uncomfortable expression. “It’s all right, lover. This is what I do. You know this. I’m invincible, remember?”
She smiles weakly, then forces out a laugh, waving her worry away. “Of course. I’m being silly. I must be close to pluggin’ or something, going all girly on you.”
I stride back over to her and engulf her with my large frame. “I like it when you worry about me, beautiful. Be as girly as you want. But I promise nothing’s gonna happen to me.” I rock her back and forth for a few moments until I feel her relax. I hear her breathe in my scent where her head rests on my chest, and I kiss the top of her head.
“You’re my best friend, Bri. Don’t go gettin’ dead, okay?” she whispers.
“I won’t. Gotta live in order to get my reward for a job well done.” I pull back and wink, making her smile.
“Okay. Well then, go save the day, big guy,” she orders, and I smack a kiss to her lips before turning and hurrying out the door.
CHAPTER 6
I enter the elevator, reaching for the seventh floor button. The doors close, and I immediately reach behind me, pulling my gun out of the back of my waistband. I hold it behind my thigh in case the doors open, and someone is standing there waiting for the elevator, but as soon as I see the hallway is clear, I lift my .45 and silently make my way to room 703. It’s the only room on this end of the hall, indicating it must be huge—a suite.
Pressing my ear to the door, I hear nothing inside, so I hurriedly take out my wallet with one hand, continuing to train the gun on the door while I slip out the key card Seth gave me that supposedly opens any electronic lock. I replace my wallet in my back pocket, and exhale a breath, centering myself before sliding the card into the lock, sending up a silent prayer that it works. As soon as the tiny light turns green, with lightning-fast movements, I open the door, bursting into the room with my gun aimed ahead of me.
The room, set up like a living room’s sitting area from what I can make out in the darkness, is empty, so I hurry over to the white door I see at the far end of the right wall. Getting closer, I see it has been barricaded by a door jammer. Whoever is inside wouldn’t be able to get out because of the long metal pole lodged between the doorknob and the floor.
I remove it easily, turning the knob and opening the door.
The small figure groggily sits up in the middle of the bed, her disheveled appearance visible from the light coming from the bathroom over to the right.
She rubs her eyes, squinting. “Jean? It’s so early. You okay?” she murmurs, and it confuses the fuck out of me. Why would she be worrying if her kidnapper is all right? The moment she registers I am not Jean LaRue, I see it in her eyes as her expression turns to terror when she spots my hulking frame with the gun trained on her, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream.
At the exact same time, something hits me from behind, and I stumble forward. Thankfully, whoever hit me must be short, because the object didn’t connect with my head at my towering height, so I turn and aim my gun at the dark silhouette still inside the bedroom door.
“Get your fucking hands up,” I growl loudly, and I hear Quincy gasp behind me.
“Please! Don’t hurt him. We’ll give you whatever you want. Money? We have lots in the safe. Please, just don’t hurt him,” she begs, and it confuses me even more.
Gun still trained on LaRue, I hiss over my shoulder, “I’m not here to rob you. I’m fucking rescuing you.”
“What?” she squeaks.
“Mon dieu,” I hear LaRue sigh, and I see him shake his head.
“I was hired by Demetri Security to find and rescue you from the man keeping you captive, your Infidelity client, Jean LaRue,” I explain briskly, my eyes darting between Quincy and the hotelier as I back up toward the bathroom so I can see both of them.
Silence.
And then, “I told you, Jean. I told you they would come looking for us. You should’ve trusted me. You should still… trust me.” Quincy’s voice is reassuring as she continues, “Your secrets are safe with me. Not only because of the contracts I signed, but because we’re friends. For a whole year you’ve been my very best friend. You know in your heart I won’t tell a soul.”
With that, LaRue falls to his knees as he buries his face in his hands. That’s when I see the man standing behind him in the doorway, still in the darkness of the living room. I raise my gun to aim at him, and he squeaks femininely and puts his hands up.
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” I call fiercely.
“Please, sir. There’s no need for the gun. I swear I’m safe,” Quincy says quietly, scooting to the edge of the bed to stand, her hands coming up in a placating gesture.
“You were barricaded inside the room, ma’am,” I remind her, switching my weight from one foot to the other, not knowing exactly what to do. I’m so thrown off by their exchange and the sobbing man on the floor that I don’t know what my next move should be. So, I lower my weapon, deciding to trust the woman as she moves to kneel in front of LaRue and wraps her arms around his shaking shoulders.
“Sir, come into the room so I can see you,” I call out to the man in the doorway, and he enters timidly, his narrow, hairless chest coming into view before I see he has a sheet wrapped around his waist. And that’s when everything clicks.
Her profile stating she wanted only a platonic relationship behind closed doors.
A secret she promises she won’t tell.
“You’re his beard,” I murmur, and all three sets of eyes come to me, LaRue’s wet from his tears, Quincy’s full of worry, and the other man’s wide, holding a hint of… jealousy?
“Please. No one can know. If anyone were to find out, he’d lose everything. His family will disown him,” she pleads. The looks on all their faces would be heartbreaking if I were a more sensitive person, but it’s enough to make me slip my gun into the waistband of my jeans. Quincy turns back to LaRue. “It’s over, honey. But you can trust me. Your secret is safe with me,” she repeats, kissing his cheek before standing. She takes a step over to the other man, wrapping her arms around his waist to give him a brief hug. “Take care of him, Spence.”
He nods, giving her a small smile as she steps back. “I will, Quin,” he promises, before holding his hand out for LaRue to take. He hauls him up and against his chest, kissing the man’s forehead as he rubs his palms up and down his lover’s biceps.
Quincy walks over to me, her body angled toward mine as she directs the words at the couple over by the bed. “I’ll tell them it was a misunderstanding. We wanted our last week to be an epic getaway just the two of us, to go out with a bang at the end of our one-year contract, and we were having so much fun that we lost track of days.”
“Ma’am, there’s a video of him forcing you into his car,” I tell her.
“Oh that?” She scoffs. “I was being a brat. He wanted to surprise me, but I wanted to know where we were going.” She looks at LaRue expectantly, silently asking if he agrees to her story.
He nods. “Thank you, sweet Quincy. I’m very sorry for my panic and distrust. I should’ve known better,” he apologizes in his thick French accent.
“Think nothing of it,” she replies, and then she tilts her head back to look up at me. “Ready?”
“Uh… yeah,” I agree, and I stand there awkwardly as she gathers her few belongings, shoves them into her giant purse, and hurries into the bathroom to change. When she emerges, she’s dressed in jeans and a fitted T-shirt with flip-flops on her feet, and shoves her nightgown into her bag.
As the hotel room door closes behind us, I shake my head at the turn of events, pulling my phone out of my pocket. When Mrs. Witt answers, I tell her I have Quincy and to send a car to pick her up.
I’m ready for my reward for a job well done.
EPILOGUE
The metallic clinking sound fills the private room of the New York underground BDSM club, as Clarice’s naked body is lifted into the air by her ankles. Her sculpted legs are spread by a bar between her feet, leaving her exposed.
I take a deep breath, enjoying the clean scent of the room and the coolness of the air. At my club back home, I have to wear a leather hooded mask at all times to keep my identity hidden. All the Doms do. But when I’m out of town with Clarice, where no one knows me, I get to be f
ree, which means I get to use my mouth on her—my favorite thing in the world.
When she’s at the right height, suspended midair, putting her several feet off the ground in order to have her mouth at just the right level, I hit the button to lock the chain in place, leaving her perfectly safe. Her eyes stare into mine heatedly, waiting to see just what I’m going to do to her this time.
As talkative as she is when I’m letting her top me, she’s a very well-behaved submissive, staying completely silent and waiting for instruction, making me crave her even more. Such a conundrum. So utterly perfect for me.
I prowl over to her, dropping down on my haunches so we are face-to-face, and then lean forward enough to brush my lips over her upside-down ones. “I’m going to own this pretty little mouth, lover,” I murmur there, and I hear her shuddered inhale. “Ah, you like that idea, do you?” I smirk, pulling back enough to look in her eyes.
“Yes, Knight,” she breathes, making my cock jerk inside my black jeans at the use of my Dom name. I so rarely get to hear it coming from her that it has an immediate effect, unlike when I’m at my own club, where that’s the only name anyone knows me by—besides my partners, of course.
I stay there for a moment, squatted down in front of her, and slide my hand up her trapped nudity. First over her taut nipples, then up her now panting ribs, her soft stomach, then higher to her smooth pubic bone. Finally, I reach up and over the hill of her pussy and dip my finger inside her drenched heat. “Already wet for me. Such a good girl,” I tell her, and lean in once more for one last kiss before I stand, looking down into her open slit. It’s shining with her arousal, and my erection strains against the denim of my pants, demanding to be free. “Take my cock out, and fill that smart mouth up with as much as you can take,” I command.
Like the good little submissive she is, she instantly follows my orders, and my knees almost buckle as the heat of her mouth and throat sucks me inside. Wrapping my arms around the back of her, I grip her ass for a moment. The irresistible feeling of her meaty globes filling my palms and then some makes me thrust into her, making her gag. The sound is intoxicating, and I do it again, pulling back just enough to let her take a breath as I watch her pussy clench. The slight flutter of her opening is enough to have my face diving downward to devour her, and she moans around my cock.
