by Trisha Wolfe
“I know you’re wet for me,” he whispers. “I can almost feel you right through your jeans…so fucking wet.” His eyes ensnare mine. “Just one order, goddess, and I’ll make the pain stop.”
My chest pangs with need. All I want is to surrender completely. Close my eyes and be lost to him…but I shake my head, trying to stop this from happening. “I can’t… I can’t be ready. Not yet. Not here.”
He lowers my zipper, sending a tingling thrill to my chest. “Is that your demand?” His fingers push into my pants, and I gasp. “Tell me, goddess. Tell me to please you right now.”
My hands find his hair, my fingers gripping at his black layers as his masculine scent surrounds me, dissolving my will. “Yes,” I manage.
That’s all the consent Colton needs. His fingers plunder lower until they discover my entrance. His middle finger slides into my slit, the heel of his hand already seeking my swollen clit. A hard shiver wracks his body as he swirls the pads of his fingers around my slick lips. “Christ… You’re going to break me.” He rests his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling together as my thighs quiver, then his fingers sink deep inside me.
A blazing current ignites my skin, and I clutch him to me, unable to control the overpowering sensations consuming me. I rock my hips, helping him along—but he knows me. Already attuned to my body and my needs, he locates the spot that sends me over the edge. I feel myself tighten around him, and he groans, dropping his head to my chest. His hand cups one of my breasts as his hot mouth surrounds my nipple through my shirt.
His teeth nip and his tongue flicks, pulling the ache from my core to my lower back, the impending orgasm laying claim to my whole body.
“You’re perfect,” he says, his warm breath touching the cool wetness of my shirt and spiking my blood. He bites down on my nipple just as his fingers pump hard into me, rubbing the swollen mound until I’m trembling in his arms.
His strength supports me as I sag against the wall. His hand presses harder against my clit, claiming me. “Come for me, goddess. Soak me.”
A clipped moan escapes my lips. “Colton…” But the rest of my plea is lost as his lips crash against mine, swallowing my cry. His tongue delves into the hollow of my mouth, and as his lips bruise mine in a crushing kiss, I break against him.
I’m a lightning rod beckoning the flame. I’m devoured by it.
His mouth continues to take me as the aftershocks swell and ebb, flowing through and over my body.
Removing his hand from my pants, he breaks away only to grasp the backs of my thighs and lift me up against the wall. His labored breaths brush my mouth as he drives his cock against my throbbing center, a harsh curse expelling through his gritted teeth. “You make me an animal. I’m fucking going out of my mind.”
All sense of reality and where we are is a distant memory. My desire is already building again; the feel of his desire grinding against me has me pulling him closer. My hands fumble until I’ve successfully yanked the back of his shirt up and I touch his hot flesh. The tight, corded muscles of his back move beneath my palms as my fingers dig into his skin, seeking purchase.
He mimics my need, his hand sliding beneath my shirt and pushing my bra up to palm my breast. As the adrenaline surges, a small voice in the back of my head is trying to be heard over the roar of emotions. Its whispered threat says I should stop. No one touches me. I’m filthy. And as his fingers graze the scar along my collarbone, the pressing fear surges to life; becomes a tangible entity.
I grip him to me harder. Past the fear and pain and torment. This is the only man to ever push me past my comfort zone, beyond my limits, and bring me back. I’m bound to him.
The echo of laughter reaches my ears, and Colton’s movements halt. Lifting his intense gaze to mine, he utters a curse before his lips taste mine once more, then he forcefully pulls away. Panicked, I quickly rearrange my bra and hike my pants, zipping them closed as Colton heaves strenuous breaths just inches from me.
He reaches down to adjust the straining bulge in his jeans, then turns and braces his hands against the opposite wall. I watch the rise and fall of his back as he visibly struggles to calm himself.
Shaken but gaining equilibrium, I take an uneven step in the direction of the main room.
“Get rid of him.”
Almost composed, I whirl around to face Colton. “How? I can’t—”
“You keep saying that, but we’ve proven the exact opposite, haven’t we? Get rid of him, or I will.” The determined, hungry glint in his pale blues conveys the absolute urgency of our situation. Tension radiates off him at high volume, crashing against me and expressing his need. I nearly wilt under the intensity of it.
If we were alone—right now—Colton wouldn’t hold back. As delicate as he’s been with me thus far, giving me time to…acclimate, he’s beyond that now. The imagery flashing before my eyes of what he would do to my body in his state thrills me as much as it terrifies me.
“Agent Bonds.”
Carson’s curious tone pulls me out of the seductive trance, and I turn to acknowledge him. “Did you get what you were looking for?”
Eyebrows drawn together, he nods. “I did. But I just have a couple more questions for Colton, then we can—” A sequence of beeps triggers from his phone at the same time mine vibrates.
I unclip my cell from my harness and swipe open the alert.
Quinn: 187 TRM, beneath the bridge. Immediate response.
“Hell,” Carson says under his breath. His wide, brown eyes meet mine. “Let’s wrap this up.”
And I know—I’m not staying with Colton. Selfishly, I despise my role in this moment, but my calling has to come first. Always. I glance over and find Colton’s gaze already on me, a knowing, resolute look creasing the corners of his eyes.
He nods to me, then levels Carson with a firm glare. “I assume I’ve provided all the answers you need. So what else can I do to help the ACPD, detective?”
Removing the photos of the four victims from his leather folio, Carson lines them up side-by-side on a table. “To your knowledge, have any of these women ever been to this club?”
Colton moves to stand over the close-up images of the women’s faces. “Three of them.”
A sick jolt kicks my stomach.
“Three of them?” Carson repeats, stepping closer to Colton’s side. “Which three?”
Spreading his fingers wide—the same fingers that were just inside me—Colton taps the three on the right, excluding the first victim from the lineup. “I don’t know their names, but I’ve seen them here at least a couple of times.”
Carson motions to the spiral staircase. “Can we—?”
“No,” Colton says, stopping the detective’s inquiry. “Even if most clients didn’t pay with cash to protect their privacy, that’s what we’re here for. You cannot have access to member accounts.”
I reach down and start collecting the photos. “We’re done here.” Handing them over to Carson, I make sure he understands my tone. “We’re up against a warrant.”
He nods, then slips the images back into his folio. “Thanks for your time and cooperation, Mr. Reed…correction, Colton.”
Leaving before he encounters further resistance, Carson exits into the entrance hallway where he meets Lilly Anne and proceeds to show her the images. I feel Colton’s hand on the small of my back.
He guides me toward the side of the entrance, just out of eyeshot, and whispers near my ear, “I need to see you. Tonight.”
It rings more like a warning than a promise. My back tenses. “You failed to mention the victims were members.”
“First, I’m not your informant. This is your case, not mine.” His thumb hooks into the back of my jeans, pulling me to a stop. His chest presses close to my back. “Second, the identities of the other victims were never made public. It’s more than just a little unnerving for me to discover they were members. So stop trying to catch me in some kind of lie. I’m not working against you, Sadie.”
<
br /> This is true; the victims haven’t been released to the media yet. There was no catch in his voice, no hitch in his breathing when he delivered his response. I want to shutoff the behaviorist when I’m with Colton, but it’s difficult when his connection to the victims piques my defenses.
The victims were here at some point, and the club very well could be their link to the killer. Besides the first vic, it’s the only common denominator they share so far.
The common denominator they share with me.
My insides burn with anger. I’m doing everything within my power to lead this case away from Colton, but despite my efforts, the trail continues to intersect with his path. What’s more, at every turn, the UNSUB is pulling me more and more into his scheme.
I turn to face Colton, and his arm stays firmly in place around my waist. “The killer contacted me.” The words blurt from my mouth before I can stop them. But if Colton knows anything, anything at all that could help me shed light on who is fucking with me, I need that information now.
His eyes widen, hard gaze drilling right back into mine. “What?”
The accusation hangs heavy in the air between us. I’ve accused him of omitting pertinent information from me, when I’ve done just that to him.
I lift my chin. “There’s no time to discuss this, Colton—”
“Make time.”
With a tense exhale, I say, “The killer either knows me personally, or thinks he knows me personally. Either way, the crime scenes have been targeting me. If the killer could be a member…or if a member could possibly identify him based on the profile…I need to know.”
His lips press into a hard line. “And you’re just now telling me this. You’ve been out there, away from me for a week, and…” he trails off, looks away. “Go straight home and wait for me there.”
I balk, breaking out of his hold. “That’s not going to happen. There’s been another murder.”
“So you’re going to go right where he wants you?” The fury in his voice gives way to his desperation. He drags a hand over his face, and his eyes pin me with a fierce stare. “Don’t go.”
I may always have reservations when it comes to Colton. Whether they’re based off of my own twisted insecurities or fact, they’re present, and they may never have a chance to evolve into the trust we both desire so badly. But right now, in this moment, it’s the first time I feel that anything between us could become real.
“I have to go,” I say. “It’s not just about my job. I won’t let anyone, ever again, dictate my actions.” I step closer and take his hand in mine. “And you’re right; you’re not my informant, but I’m asking you to do something that I can’t. Not to get involved…I won’t have you in danger, but you have access to information the department doesn’t.”
“Shit.” Looking down at our hands, he laces his fingers through mine. “You’re asking for a lot, goddess. Not that I’m unwilling, you know you only have to ask—” he looks up and brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek “—but I wish you’d let me in. Confide in me what happened to you.”
I swallow hard. “Eventually.”
Which is more than I can offer anyone. He accepts that for what it is, and says, “Stay with me. We’ll get whatever it is you need, but do it here. Or hell, somewhere else, but don’t go.” His stony blue eyes plead.
“I’ll contact you later.”
Releasing his hand, I step away and rush through the exit before Colton can convince me otherwise. The fear in his voice just made this situation all the more real, and I desperately need the security of routine to comfort me right now.
As I step onto the sidewalk, the sound of something breaking from inside the club crashes through my resolve.
Carson stands by the car, door open. “Everything all right?”
I don’t look back at The Lair. “I hate surprises, Carson. And I really hate underhanded tactics. Unless you want my wrath coming down on you your first week, you won’t pull a fucking stunt like that again.”
6
To Whom It May Concern:
Colton
The white gauze covering my knuckles turns a bright red as blood seeps past the thin threads. I pump my hand a couple of times, letting the blood flow, watching the shade deepen.
Julian will be pissed about the mirror. And the barstool that crashed into the mirror—and then my fist—but he’ll get over it once I tell him what we’re up against. That will take precedence over everything. Even his engagement.
Once Sadie starts digging, she’ll uncover the truth.
And her fucking job—so black and white. She won’t see the gray—the pain, the destruction, the inevitable; she will be forced to do her job, and those will be the very words slung at me. Once I witness that look of disgust in her eyes…there will be no reasoning.
Maybe it’s time. I’ve carried the weight for nearly two years, and it’s been a festering black hole threatening to implode and swallow me for just as long.
The abyss has called my reckoning.
I was stupid to ever think it would end any other way.
Pulling out my key ring, I weed through the many keys until I find the right one, then insert it into the lock on the desk. I tug open the heavy metal drawer, and the resounding bang detonates my anger.
“Dammit,” I shout. Gritting my teeth, I dive into the files, collecting them all at once and dropping them on the desk.
Lilly Anne chooses this moment to enter the office. She stands paused in the doorway, hands fisted on the shiny leather of her hips, little mouth rounded in an O. “Wow. That little detective girl sure got a rise out of you.”
I shake my head. If she only knew.
“I know it’s Julian’s engagement party today,” I say, taking a seat to try to settle my nerves. “But maybe give him a call. Let him know officers paid the club a visit.” That should motivate my brother to get his ass over here.
With a hesitant step forward, she enters the room. “I thought that’s why you were here. You’re taking over for him, right?”
I haven’t made a final decision yet. I thought that maybe I could, if it meant a steady life to keep me here…near Sadie. But now there’s a more pressing issue: do I stay in this city or run?
That’s laughable. Run where? The only place I want to be is with Sadie. Whether as her lover, her devoted worshiper, or as her prisoner.
I guess, really, they’re all the same.
A smile twitches at my lips as I give the Dominatrix her answer. “Yes. I’m taking over. But there’s some loose ends that my brother needs to tie up before then. And it needs to be handled today.”
She nods assuredly. “Right away, sir.” Then she heads off to do as told. Only the one in charge of the club could get that kind of respect from the feisty Domme. She’s accustomed to giving orders, not taking them.
Driving a hand through my hair, I look down at the member files. I’m not sure where to begin. We don’t keep accounts on a computer—nothing that can be hacked into and accessed. This is going to take ages to sort through. And I’m not positive my time won’t be wasted searching for a needle in a haystack. Or if the needle I’m looking for is even here.
A sneaking annoyance pulls at my conscience, suggesting this is Sadie’s way of keeping me busy and out of her way. Busywork for her main suspect. Keep me where she wants me—where she can find me. All she had to do was ask. Speak one order and I’d gladly stay put wherever she directed.
She still doesn’t get it.
Blowing out a heavy breath, I plunge into the stack and locate a specific folder. If someone is using the club to vet victims, I’ll find them. I’ll deal with them—personally. And if I discover they’ve used this means to stalk Sadie and hurt her…
I’ll murder them.
Once you’ve taken a life, it shouldn’t be difficult to take another. I already owe plenty for my sins, what’s one more life?
Resolved, I pick up the office phone and hit a special speed dial number. It ri
ngs and rings, then goes to voicemail. I dial it again. On the fifth ring it’s answered. The voice on the other end isn’t thrilled this number is blowing up his phone.
“I thought we settled up,” Captain Wexler says. “I don’t owe—”
“This isn’t Julian,” I interrupt. I don’t care to know about my brother’s personal dealings with the police captain; I just need his connections. “I’m running The Lair now, so whatever deal you had with Julian, you now have with me.”
Holding up Wexler’s member file, I scan his interests and hobbies. The things I’m sure his wife and kids would loathe just as much as his department if they discovered them. Not that I’d ever out the guy, but fear is a powerful motivator for most people.
A deep exhale sounds through the earpiece. “How can I help you?”
I smile. “I need copies of everything you have on the recent serial killings. Specifically, the whole profile. The pertinent parts that haven’t gone public.”
A deep boom of laughter, then, “Are you serious.”
“Deadly.”
There’s a long pause on his end before he replies. “That can’t happen. Do you know what a major leak in the department would do? I don’t care how you threaten me; you can tell the world I”—his voice lowers—“like to wear women’s clothing and be spanked by a Domme. I don’t give a shit. I can’t just hand over sensitive information on victims and confidential case material to you.”
I stand and march over to the door to close it. “It’s my understanding that there’s already a leak in your department. One profiler in particular has been stalked by the killer, and from what I’ve heard, you’re doing nothing to protect her.”
“How do you…?” Another pause. “Shit. I can give you early access to what’s going to the media at the end of the week. That’s it. The best I can do.”
“You know where to send it,” I say, then end the call. I slam the portable phone down on the desk. Sit back in the chair. Look down at the stack of folders. It’s going to take fucking forever to compare that information to every member.
