by Lacey Silks
“I never thought otherwise,” I replied.
“If something goes wrong, you could be sold to a pimp who’ll use you to service fifty men a day.”
My breath stilled. Human sex trafficking.
“Then it’s a good thing we trust each other,” I whispered.
“We do, don’t we?”
I wish I’d known this at the time, but I’d broken through Cross’s thickest shield at that moment. His eyes softened. The tension in his neck eased.
And as much as my mind urged me to think twice, every nerve in my body guided me to trust him with my life. After all, it would be my life we’d be selling, wouldn’t it?
“How did you know where I’d be?” he asked.
“You’re not the only one who has sources,” I said, remembering the past evenings I’d spent driving around the city asking about a man in a Bentley. “Why would you say a hooker?”
“Initially I wanted to see if you were up for an odd job. You took it to a whole new level.” He chuckled and started driving again. “You were very composed for someone who could be fucked by a stranger on the street.”
How could he say things like that with a straight face? As a cop I was used to vulgar language, but the way he blurted the words out insinuated he was the stranger and I would be the one who was fucked—and in a good way, too. The suggestion of a warm body beside mine felt arousing.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not a stranger,” I said.
“Is it?” he smirked.
The tone of his voice zapped me below my belt as I imagined him being a stranger who picked me up on a corner and offered to fuck me. My panties dampened. The pressure inside me was too much. A few more seconds of his foreplay and I’d combust in his comfortable leather seat with my legs wide open. Suddenly it felt as if I’d had a bottle of Comisario.
“How can you handle so much tequila?” he asked out of nowhere.
I welcomed the change of subject and wondered how he’d known what I was thinking. “Practice.”
A slight frown appeared at the side of his face. “Drinking won’t be a problem, will it? I know you’re not an alcoholic, but you should know that I have an issue with substance abuse.”
“Yet you smell of scotch all the time.” I rolled my eyes.
“A sip is not the same as addiction.”
“No, it won’t be a problem. I may like a drink or two...”
“...or three.” He cleared his throat.
“Or three when I’m off duty, but my job is as serious as they get. Lives depend on it, and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.”
“That’s what I thought. Allie, I can only ask you to do this after you’ve passed the necessary training… and a physical.” He stretched the last word.
I knew he was talking about my strength, fighting abilities, and endurance, but his face hinted at examining my body inch by inch, with his own hands and fingers. Plus with the background check he’d done on me, he must have known we had regular drug testing at the force and my tests were all clean. And hadn’t our tumbling around on the gym floor been enough to show him my strength?
“I understand. We can get started on the physical as soon as possible.”
Cross’s grip tightened around the steering wheel. His knuckles whitened before he let go of the tension, saying, “I haven’t hired you yet.”
“You said I had the job when you walked into the auditorium.”
“Then I have to fire you for tonight.”
My pulse raced. He couldn’t let me go. I needed the job badly. As much as I loved being a cop, I could no longer imagine being away from Cross.
“Tristan, if there’s one thing I can guarantee it’s that I’m not only the best option you have, I am the only option you have. I. Don’t. Fail.”
“Don’t you think I know that? You’re my only chance, Allie.” The sudden gloss in his eyes surprised me, like I held control over his entire future. “If I had a choice I wouldn’t hire you. I’d keep you far away from the scum we’ll be dealing with. But you’re too perfect for the job. You’re beautiful, smart, and strong.”
He called me beautiful again. Stop it, Allie!
“And most important, you’ve already seen the man we’re looking for. Almost a month ago my cousin Gabriel Silver stopped you from following the bastard in the park. You were on your bike.”
I recalled the Saturday afternoon as clear as if it were yesterday because I’d agreed to swap a shift with Laura. We usually tried to stick to our schedules, as switching meant sleep deprivation for a day or so. And Gabriel Silver had a strong physical resemblance to Cross. That kind of chiseled face couldn’t be forgotten. He was Cross’s cousin and business partner.
“The guy you met that day, Martinez, is our key to finding my girl.”
His girl? My throat tightened. An urgent tug of jealousy yanked at my heart and the little devil on my left shoulder burst in flames of glory. You like him!
Of course I liked him! Even Mother Teresa would have liked him.
I blew a stronger breath onto my shoulder, pushing the coercive bastard off. Cross looked at me like I was losing my mind, but continued. “He’ll be selling Kendra to the highest bidder at one of two auctions. If he’s successful, my chance to find her will be gone.”
I forced my cop instinct to return to my brain. “So, we go to the auction, get her back. What’s the problem?”
“It’s not just any auction, Allie. If we don’t get her that first night, if she’s not there, you will be sold as an undercover whore. I have to make sure you’re sold to the right guy, which means infiltrating the auction.”
“I trust you, Tristan; you’re not going to fail me.”
“You remind me of someone who was as strong as you. Someone I failed. And – don’t ever trust anyone completely,” he said.
“Do you?”
“Outside of my family, no.”
He came with as many issues as I did, didn’t he?
“I’m gonna have to personally make sure you can perform.” A devilish grin returned to the side of his face.
She can perform, all right! The little red devil hopped back on my shoulder.
“I can do this,” I assured him with as much professionalism as I could.
Cross took my hand. “Thank you. I promise to keep you safe.”
The guarantee of safety scared me a little more than when he’d said the job was dangerous. His jawbone tensed and I imagined pain in his eyes, but he didn’t turn to look at me.
“Mr. Cross...” I wasn’t sure what came over me to be so formal.
“Please call me Tristan, even if you think of me only as your employer.”
There was something more intimate about calling Tristan by his first name, and it felt right.
“Tristan, I can see you’re personally invested in the job you’re hiring me for. That’s not a good thing for you or anyone else.”
“It’s the only way. And your employment won’t begin until morning. Tonight, you’re my hooker, and I need to see if I spent my money well.” He smirked. “We’re here.”
As much as the words would normally have offended me, they didn’t coming from his mouth. But whether Tristan was joking or not was yet to be seen. Did he really want me to perform as a hooker tonight? Was I about to play out a fantasy?
CHAPTER 8
We pulled into an underground parking lot. Tristan parked by an elevator, right beside the other four Bentleys. Each one shone with a fresh coat of waxed pride.
Before I got a chance to pull on the handle, he opened the car door on my side. I squished my legs together, sliding my mini lower on my thighs, and stepped out like a mermaid.
The exclusive elevator opened as soon as we approached. Tristan didn’t even press the button. Impressed with the security, I moved forward, feeling his hand at the small of my back. Shivers ran through my body resting deep in my belly as I reminded myself that this was my job interview and I had to earn my position. What position was
I applying for, exactly? Sex trafficking? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know I’d end up in Tristan’s bed tonight, but that’s what I needed. The sexual tension between us had to be relieved before we could continue work.
The door closed. In the place of buttons for the elevator was a keypad with a retina scan. Tristan stepped up and looked into the glass sphere.
Welcome home, Mr. Cross, intoned the automated speaker.
We’re going to his house?
My feet pressed to the floor as the elevator lifted against gravity. Tristan turned, facing me. His sultry stare bore through my body, and I felt my back press against the mirrored wall.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to hold power over me; no man ever had. I was a cop. A strong cop who wasn’t swayed by crying mothers, cute puppies, or gorgeous hunks speeding in their Ferraris, offering everything they owned and more. But I was also a woman – and to Tristan, my body responded of its own accord. I felt my breasts swell and I wished I’d worn a dress with a larger top: one that could hold the twins in better. Tristan didn’t seem to mind.
“So, what will two thousand dollars buy me, sweetheart?”
Even if we were playing, I had a feeling this was going to be one hell of an interview—one of the best ones I’d ever had.
“Whatever you want.” I wondered how far he’d go, and how far I’d allow him to go. I already knew what he wanted. My instincts were solid, especially the hormonal ones. My body had secretly ached for his touch since he’d walked into the auditorium. And that one deep kiss we’d shared in his car was like a teasing spoonful of chocolate cake. I craved chocolate cake; and not just a bite.
And before I could say another word, Tristan crushed his mouth to mine, possessing it like he owned me, spreading my lips apart with his needy tongue. The hint of scotch still lingered in his mouth. And at this moment, he did own me. Every. Single. Piece of me.
His grip on my wrists above my head would have normally enraged me. But tonight I wasn’t a cop, and his strong and demanding fingers wrapped around my hands like cuffs, burning me with a long-forgotten yearning.
The force of his lips devoured mine, his tongue exploring my mouth. The few moans that escaped me, Tristan swallowed. I had no room to breathe and found hardly enough strength to stand on my legs.
He let go of my mouth and trailed his lips along my jaw to my cheek and ear before lowering down my neck, pinning me against the wall. Oh, God, he felt so good against my body. Everything inside me twisted and tightened and released in unbearable pulses between my thighs. I breathed him in, the oak smell of his scotch imprinted in his skin and in his hair.
The elevator halted and Tristan jolted up as if he’d just realized what he’d done. He searched my eyes with his as if asking permission to go on. And for the first time tonight, doubt crept in. He leaned his forehead against mine.
“We can’t do this. I’m your employee,” I whispered into his mouth. But inside, I laughed at my own unconvincing words, feeling the heat between my legs penetrate my dampened panties.
The open elevator door chimed the second time.
“Your body says we can.” He cupped my engorged breasts, one in each hand, squeezing them in slow motion, feeling their full weight.
I held my breath, pushing my chest into his palms, filling them.
He looked straight into my eyes. “And you’re not hired until the morning.”
This time, his mouth took my lips slowly. The forceful tongue softened, teasing my gums, and I couldn’t get enough of his taste as he guided me into his apartment. We never broke our kiss and I couldn’t remember when my arms wrapped around his neck and fingers weaved through his silky hair. Tristan’s hands slid down my body and under my skirt, scrunching it up to my waist, and I felt him smile against my mouth.
“You’re prepared.” His palm covered the hand gun in a holster strapped to my thigh.
“You never know what weirdo you’ll run into on the street.”
He laughed, pulling the buckle open. Tristan set my piece aside on the table.
“What else are you hiding there?” He drew his finger along my brow, looking deep into my eyes. And for a moment I thought he could see everything, including my soul.
“Things I can never forget.” Did I just say that?
“I want to help you forget, for tonight at least.” The comfort and understanding in his eyes struck me deep inside. But behind those deep amber-like gems there was also pain. I wasn’t the only one hurting. Whatever had happened to Tristan must have been bad. Perhaps he was scarred as deep as I was? Had he ever allowed anyone to see what was hidden, layers deep inside his heart? I wondered what secrets he held and whether he’d share them.
“I’m going to fuck you now.” His voice thickened with lust as his fingers gripped the lace panties on my ass. The way he’d said this so nonchalantly comforted me. Like it was something we both needed and wanted.
A fuck to forget.
“If that’s what two thousand dollars buys, fuck away.” When I looked into his eyes, Tristan understood completely.
Tightening his grip, he lifted me up and seized my mouth. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms holding onto his upper body. Tristan carried me across his apartment, but I couldn’t remember a single detail about the place, except the faint smell of scotch, manly musk, and Tristan.
I loved smelling him.
His lips felt so good and natural against my mouth, just as it had when he’d kissed me that first time in the car. I’d dreamt about that luscious kiss every night. But this was much better than a dream, because his lips were warm and real. His bulging arms and flexing muscles as he carried me so effortlessly pulsed under my body. I wasn’t sure when he’d laid me down on the bed, or removed my skirt, panties, or even the top, because the next time he pulled away from my mouth and I looked up, I was naked, in a faintly lit bedroom, propped on my elbows, watching Tristan remove his jeans and shirt.
The tented boxers didn’t remain long on him either. Oh, God, what was happening to me? I’d had sex before, but this... and him... why did it feel so different? I hadn’t been with him yet, but something told me I wouldn’t want anyone else after this.
Tristan crawled onto the bed and pushed my feet up, bending my knees. My full front was exposed and soaking for him. I knew it and so did he. The hungry smile on his face made every muscle in my body tense with anticipation. He lowered his head between my knees and dove into me without warning, and I thought I heard myself scream as his mouth spread my juices and his fingers parted my wet folds. Or perhaps it was all in my head? I don’t quite remember. All I know is that no one had ever taken me the way Tristan did. He teased with the utmost patience, licking me up and down before settling higher for a longer suck of my most sensitive part. Then he stopped and kissed my inner thigh, allowing me to calm my arousal, return to my senses, only to assault me again with his tongue. This continued for a few rounds before he eased his finger inside me, stretching me. While this index dug deeper and faster, his tongue began flicking with fervor.
I wouldn’t last. I couldn’t last. The assault of his sucks and slurps on my tender flesh drew all my senses toward that one part of my body getting all the attention. The swell of agonizing excitement began to burst as I gripped the sheets underneath, holding on for my life. The charge of my orgasm flew through my body from that tip and out my fingers and toes as I screamed.
“Stop!”
But he wouldn’t. He knew my words were not my own and they weren’t convincing. I wanted him to stop because I couldn’t imagine it getting any better or stronger, and if it did, I’d disintegrate. I didn’t want anything to ruin the moment of pure joy. But Tristan had other plans. His ravishing mouth licked again and sucked again. There was no way an orgasm could last so long! How? This was the most pleasurable torture I could have asked for. And when he saw my weakened knees fall apart, unable to keep upright as the excitement roamed through me again and again and again, Tr
istan slowed to simple kisses. His mouth drew up along my belly toward my hip. He kissed a path across my stomach to the other side, then up to my navel, sliding his hands over my hips to my breasts. His hands were always on me, always connected, as if he owned my body. My nipples, still sensitive, received soothing licks and I appreciated the moment of rest.
Tristan’s glistening mouth touched my lips and I tasted my fluids, mixed with a fresh swallow of scotch. A half-empty glass revealed its orange contents on the night table. Had it there been before we came in? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t care. The taste of him and me in my mouth was perfect.
“You’re fucking delicious.” He kissed my neck and my shoulder. Even the little devil shied away. What Tristan had done to me was too much for anyone.
“That was incredible,” I smiled. I hadn’t smiled like this in a long time. I don’t think I could have let go of so much tension if Wright was still on my mind. But the bastard was long gone, hopefully already buried.
“There’s more where that came from.” His manhood jabbed at the side of my thigh and I turned to my side, my back pressed against his heated chest.
I arched my spine, tilting my bottom toward him. A low growl sounded from deep inside him as he took hold of my hip. Hearing the faint rip of foil I said, “No need for that. I’m on the pill, Tristan.”
“Thank you, sweet mother of...” He couldn’t finish, and with one swift prod, he buried himself in my lubricated tunnel. The stretch was exquisite, and I wondered why it had been so long since I’d had sex. He stayed there for a moment, his chest rising steadily, pulse racing faster and faster. I recognized the hesitation. It was as if he was fighting against a little devil of his own.
“Fuck me, Tristan. Forget about everything else. Let me help you forget.”
And with my permission, Tristan began to move his hips, accelerating the merciless advance in a sweet rhythm. I wasn’t aware of how I ended up on my knees and elbows with Tristan behind me on his knees, pushing me forward with each thrust. I braced on my arms and tilted my ass even higher for him. His hands squeezed my hips and low huffs of joy escaped his mouth each time he dove into me. The dynamic of our bodies connecting astounded me. His body moved in tandem with mine. Even if this was our first time together, he was the master of my flesh. And at that moment, I knew – I’d never be with anyone else like this. Tristan was the missing piece in my life who could make me forget, make me enjoy sex for what it was. He was the perfect fit. I tightened around him, feeling his rhythm intensify.
