And I even had somebody concrete I needed to talk to.
Of course, up until yesterday when I’d talked to Dunne, I hadn’t even been aware of an alternate theory to the crime. Odd that Bethany hadn’t seen fit to tell me about it.
The report Dunne had filed said that the late Mr. Mance had been involved with someone who had known ties to Russian organized crime, both prior to the marriage as well as after the marriage. There was no clarification on just what that relationship had been, but I didn't think that was really necessary. A man married to a woman while involved in a homosexual relationship was less surprising to me than a lot of other options.
Of course they'd been fucking. Dunne had been doing follow-up since then and had found enough receipts to support the theory. Except he wasn't a detective, so he'd had to turn over that information to the pair who were working the case. And they didn't seem to care.
While it did offer an alternate suspect for the murder, it also gave a nice motive for the widow. Money was a good motive.
Sex was better.
Eyelids closing, I slid my hand down my belly until my fingers brushed through the thin layer of curls between my thighs. Last night had been the first time I hadn’t dreamt about Arik since we first met. But it wasn't the relief I'd thought it would be. I would've rather had those dreams than the half-formed ones where I'd come home to find somebody I didn’t know sitting at my kitchen table, waiting for me.
I needed to forget.
A hiss escaped my teeth as I found the wet heat. Just thinking about Arik had made me ready. But I didn't want to be ready for my fingers.
I wanted him.
Here.
Between my thighs.
Inside me.
Just those few thoughts managed to push back the anxiety I'd been feeling since I'd woken up. Circling my clit, I gave in to the tantalizing promise of his memory.
The climax was short and bittersweet, but when I climbed out of bed, my head was clearer.
I could work now.
Some people laughed about the idea of sex being restorative. Clearly, they’d never had really, really good sex.
Or at least the memory of it.
***
The strip joint wasn’t disgusting.
It was actually about three steps below that.
How those girls shimmying and swaying around the miniscule stage could bear to take their clothes off in here...I hadn’t even wanted to step inside. I was no prude, but all of this made my skin crawl.
None of the women paid me any attention, but that was fine. I didn’t need to talk to them. They didn’t need to pretend they hadn’t seen me. We could all happily ignore each other, and I’d leave some money with the guy at the door for any inconvenience I caused them. He looked like the kind of guy who actually looked out for the girls. So they’d get an extra twenty a piece tonight...I hoped.
It made me feel a little better, but I wasn’t going to feel really good until I stripped out of my clothes, burned them, and then scrubbed for about thirty minutes. Maybe with bleach. And perhaps some sulfuric acid.
At least one thing seemed to be going in my favor. The man I needed to find wasn’t exactly hiding.
He sat, staring drunkenly up at a young blonde who was probably barely sixteen. A part of me wanted to go outside and call the cops, get this place shut down. But I knew she'd run. Her and any other girls here trying to hide. Which I assumed was most of them.
I mentally blew out a sigh and noted her face. I’d think about her later. Runaways were common in New York. It always bothered me, but it'd gotten worse since I started on my path to be a lawyer. I wanted to rescue them all.
Some of the lucky ones ended up stripping. That was a sad fact since the unlucky ones ended up turning tricks until the life killed them in one way or another.
When the guy I was eying reached out a hand toward the girl, I started forward, disgust and loathing boiling up my throat. Somebody else cut me off first though, and irritation had a cutting remark leaping to my lips.
I stopped, however, as the bouncer from the door caught the man’s wrist and gave it a savage jerk that made me wince involuntarily.
“Duggar, you remember what I said I’d do if I caught you trying to paw one of my girls again?” The bouncer spoke in a calm, easy tone as he manhandled the skinnier man away from his spot.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Duggar yelped and swore, trying to wiggle his way free as the bouncer dragged him toward the door.
Shit.
This was going to hell in a hand-basket. I needed to talk to that guy, but if the bouncer threw him out, he could vanish before I could get to him. I tried to cut around the man in front of me, but it seemed he had the same plan in mind.
“Look, man, I didn’t mean nothing! I didn’t do nothing!” Duggar was flailing now, all arms and legs.
“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” I muttered, disgusted.
My human barrier stopped abruptly and I crashed into him.
Jerking away, I snapped, “Hey, watch it!”
He turned, and all the noise, the bouncer’s voice...all of that faded as the tall, muscular man in front of me faced me.
“Son of a bitch,” I breathed.
Arik stared at me.
The man on the floor shouted. Somebody else swore.
Under any other circumstances, I might've been curious as to what was going on, but in that moment, Arik’s mouth caught mine, and everything else no longer mattered.
Chapter 4
Dena
His fingers raked through my hair.
The rocking, pulsing beat of the music. The strobe lights. The disturbance going on just a few feet away.
It was nothing more than background noise even as Arik raised his head. My eyes opened and I looked away, not wanting to see those emerald green eyes.
“Dena?” His breath was hot against my skin.
Backing away, I pressed a hand to his chest. “Not so fast.”
“Fine.” The smile that canted up one corner of his mouth was so devilish and hot, my knees practically turned to jelly. “We could go nice and slow. I can call the office. No one will think twice if I take some time off.”
Rolling my eyes, I turned on my heel, but it was too late. The man I needed to talk to was gone. Shit. Now I had to track him down. The bouncer. He'd known the guy's name. He might know where to find him.
All the while, there was a voice in my head screaming at me to forget chasing after some maybe witness who might be able to give me something for Bethany's case. The hottest, sexiest man I'd ever met, the only man who'd ever been able to hit all those right notes...he was here. And he wanted me.
Yeah, and last week, he clearly wanted another woman.
Stiffening my spine, I reminded myself of the plain, simple facts. We hadn't made any commitment or promises between the two of us.
And he'd already been with another woman.
A series of flickers passed across Arik's face, as though finally realizing something wasn’t quite right.
“How is Sabrina?”
Son of a bitch. Had I really just said that?
The words had come out before I could stop them. Blood rushed to my face as I realized how terrible it sounded.
Arik’s eyes narrowed, and then slowly, the tension faded from his face and he smiled. It was a sad smile, though, tinged with a bit of ruefulness.
Damn. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I’d been expecting.
“I went there looking for you, you know.” He dipped his head, and brushed his lips across my cheek. “I couldn't get you out of my head. I only went with her to stop thinking about you.”
My heart lurched up into the general area of my throat.
His lips moved to my ear. “It didn’t work.”
Things twisted low inside me.
His hand came up and cupped the back of my neck, tugging me in closer. “Call me an ass if you want, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
>
I wanted to be pissed at him, but what he said...Damn him.
“Dena?”
“You’re an ass.” I turned my face toward his as I made my decision. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
For a Dom, he actually followed directions well.
Some twenty minutes later, my hands tucked inside the shallow pockets of my blazer jacket to hide their trembling, I gave Arik a cool smile.
“Think you can find it?”
I didn’t have any doubt he could find the address I’d written down for him. But I wanted him to stop stroking his thumb over it and agree so we could get out of here. He might be willing to call off early, but the way my work had been going, I didn't have that luxury.
But I sure as hell planned to leave right on time today, just on the off chance that Arik was still interested in a couple hours.
“Out of curiosity, how many different clubs do you belong to?” he asked.
With a slow smile, I shrugged. I like keeping my options open. “That’s a trade secret.” I couldn't help but ask. “Will you be there or not?”
“It almost sounds like you’re daring me not to come.” Arik leaned in and pressed his lips to my temple. “As soon as I get there, I want you naked and waiting for me. It's all I'll be able to think about until I see you again.”
***
The luxurious old house was quite impressive, and the exclusive club it housed was even more so.
Though every member was screened with equal vigor, it catered to the dominant, with very few memberships being offered to those who weren't Doms. Everyone else who came through the door had to be with a member. I’d been here with a sub once or twice, and I doubted anyone – including the woman who'd sponsored my membership – knew that I played both sides of the coin.
I’d been met at the door and told them I was expecting a guest. I gave them his first name and a description so he could come in without me. As a member, I was allowed to bring anybody I wanted, but I had a feeling his appearance was going to cause a bit of a stir.
I hadn’t brought a Dom here. Ever.
And I'd never submitted to any of the Doms here. While the members prided themselves on their discretion and acceptance, I knew that none of them would look at me the same way again.
I pushed the thought from my mind as I stepped into the bedroom I'd chosen for the evening. It'd been all I could think about at work, trying to decide if I wanted one of the dungeons or an actual bedroom. If so, which one. The club had a variety to choose from and I'd used several of them. This one seemed like a good choice.
It was luxurious but stark, no attempts to make it seem romantic or personal. The mattress was stripped down to only the fitted sheet. Granted, it was a nice ivory color and a decent thread-count, but it was still bare. There was a thick, warm quilt and pillows tucked into the chest that sat against the wall, but the bed wasn’t meant for rest, as evidenced by the leather restraints on each of the corner posts. A nearby closet held hangers for clothes as well as a few...well, I couldn't exactly call them garments, but they were things to wear. Any member could take them and have it billed to them.
Once inside, I closed the door behind me and began to strip. Anxiety and anticipation twisted my stomach into knots until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. I wanted Arik to come, but a part of me was terrified of what would happen if he did. If I was having such a strong reaction to him now, how much worse would it be if we were together again?
He could be a drug. I saw that now. If he was truly able to give me what I needed, not just once, but over and over again, I wouldn't be able to walk away. I'd need him. Crave him.
And I wasn't sure I wanted that.
Then the door opened.
My friend Marcus stood behind Arik, but I didn’t flinch or attempt to turn away. Marcus was in a very committed relationship with his Sub, Brendan, both in and out of the club. I didn't need to worry about him seeing me naked.
Marcus glanced at Arik as Arik stepped inside the room, and then looked back at me. Whatever he read on my face must've answered some question he'd had, because he nodded once and then shut the door behind Arik.
I straightened, my panties in hand, and met Arik's eyes. We held each other’s gazes for a moment, and then I moved to put my panties in the closet with the rest of my clothes. As soon as I closed the closet door, Arik spoke.
“On the bed.”
Turning, I moved toward the bed, feeling his eyes on me, a palpable caress that made me burn.
“What should I do to you?”
I knew it was a rhetorical question, but as I sat, I had to ask, “What do you want to do?”
“Everything.”
His answer made my body go cold, then hot, every inch of me flushing, both with thoughts of the pleasure to come as well as pleasure at his desire for me. I wasn't a self-centered person, but I couldn't deny liking it when someone appreciated me.
He came toward me, stripping off his jacket and tossing it carelessly over a nearby chair. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt as he walked...no, he wasn't walking. He was stalking, like some sort of predator.
And I was the prey.
“Just how much of everything are you willing to let me do, Dena?”
Mouth suddenly dry, I licked my lips. So many possibilities and I wanted him to do them all to me.
“We could...” I had to stop and clear my throat. “Start at the top and work our way to the bottom of the list.”
He chuckled, a sound I could only describe as liquid sex. “Interesting you phrased it that way. Your bottom is what I was thinking about.”
My heart lurched to a stop as he leaned over me, pushing his hands into my hair, twisting the strands around his fingers hard enough to hurt. Each little bite of pain made my skin burn hotter and, for the first time since I was ten, I considered growing my hair out, if only to see what he could do with it.
“My bottom.” My heart thudded in my chest. I knew what he meant, or at least I thought I did. I just wanted to make sure. “You want to start at my...bottom.”
“Your ass, sweetheart. From the moment I spanked you, watched your porcelain skin turn pink, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. What else can I do that to that pretty ass? Can I fuck it? Paddle it?”
“Yes.” That single word came out of me in a ragged moan, my pulse racing at the mere thought of him doing any of it. All of it.
He pushed a thumb into my mouth and I bit down, then sucked on it until he made a sound in the back of his throat.
Fuck that was hot.
“How rough do you want it?”
There was an edge to the question, and I knew it was more than him simply asking for my preference. He needed to know my limit. I'd asked the question before myself.
I let my eyes meet his. “Why don’t you try whatever it is you want to try, and find out for yourself?”
“'Try and find out.'” He gave me a searching look as he backed away and gestured for me to stand. “You want me to push you, don't you?”
The question was musing, meant more for himself than me, but he was right. I needed him to prove that what happened before hadn't been a fluke. I needed to know that I could give him control and he would give me everything I'd been missing.
He gestured to his shirt, not taking his eyes off me. Following his direction, I went to work on unbuttoning the shirt and peeling it away, exposing his tanned skin and firm muscles.
With a flick of his eyes, he directed me to his belt. He remained quiet as I freed the button and zipper, but when I started to push down the slacks, he stopped me.
“On your knees, Dena. I’ve been dying to see how pretty you'd look kneeling in front of me and taking my cock.”
***
I’d lost track of time. After kneeling and taking off his pants, Arik had instructed me to put a rubber on him. Fortunately, there'd been plenty to choose from.
Once that was done, he'd instructed me to perform oral sex – and that had been h
ow he'd worded it, keeping his instructions almost clinical. Something about the way he'd spoken, paired with the burning heat in his eyes, had my pussy throbbing.
I’d done my job, sucking and licking until my mouth ached and the muscles in my neck screamed.
Finally, unable to take anymore, I pulled away.
Arik's fingers traced my bare shoulder. “What are you doing, Dena? Ready to cry uncle?”
I glared at him. My knees hurt and need turned me an itchy, twitchy mess. I couldn’t move my hands. He’d tied them at the base of my spine not long after I’d sheathed him with a condom. I'd been working him with nothing but my mouth for who knew how long.
I gave him a defiant snarl. I'd be damned if a blow job made me use my safe word.
He ran his hand up the back of my neck and cupped the base of my skull. “Take my cock,” he demanded.
Our eyes met as he dragged me back to him. His cock brushed against my lips and I knew he was waiting to see if I would say it. When I said nothing, he pushed into my mouth. Fast.
I half-gagged as he hit the back of my throat, then glared up at him. Eyes slitted, he stared down at me.
Waiting.
I didn’t dare pull away, not if I wanted this to keep going. And I did want that.
He spread his legs wider and started to move, thrusting back and forth, controlling the motions of his hips while he used his thumbs and forefingers to provide support for my mouth and jaw.
I closed my eyes, let the sensations run over me. This was what I wanted, to surrender, give myself over to someone who knew how to take care of me. I shuddered, feeling my nipples grow tighter, pulsating in time with my clitoris.
A low noise came from above me and I opened my eyes, rolling them up so I could see.
His head had fallen back and his fingers flexed against my skin. His cock twitched against my tongue and his hips jerked. Then he was coming, filling the condom rather than spilling down my throat.
I resented that piece of latex, how it kept me from tasting him, and I sucked harder, barely aware of the hungry growl in my throat.
He pulled me away, and a second later, I was on my back and he was on top of me, his cock between us, sticky and wet, still in the rubber.