Page 8 of Play With Me
Her eyes squeeze shut as another wave rocks her body. It’s like liquid heat spilling all over me. If I had to rate my sexual experiences on a board, she’d be at the very top with every gold star and A+ I could give.
I’m still emptying myself inside the condom when she starts to come down from her second orgasm. The fact my dick is still going is insane. I’ve never come so hard, for so long, in my life.
“Not bad, smooth guy,” Cara breathes out with agiant smile. She climbs off, and I expect her to fall next to me to rest before trying to talk her into another round after I run out to get more condoms, but she gets off the bed and walks out the door. I can still see her clearly as she begins getting dressed.
“Where are you going?” I pull the condom off and tie it before tossing it in the trash next to the bed.
She leans down, strapping her shoes back on. “Home. Thanks for the ride.” As she straightens, she flips her hair back, flashing me her perfectly white teeth. “I know where to find you if I want another one. Have a good night, Anders.”
“You’re something else, you know that?” If confidence had a picture in the dictionary, her photo would be next to it. It’s alluring and addicting, and I’m torn between letting her go and demanding she stay in bed with me. Though something tells me if I demand anything, she’ll fight me tooth and nail on it, even while I’m buried inside her.
“If you’re lucky enough to see me again, try to put up a little more of a fight,baby. I told you, you can’t handle me. I just made you my bitch.” She blows me a kiss and turns to go.
My grin is so big my face hurts. Shaking my head, I let out an astonished laugh.
Settling against the pillows as she leaves, I link my hands behind my head, satiated and full, even though I never got my dinner. If this is any indication of how my time here will go, I suppose I can allow alittle room forsomedistraction. My last fuck up happened because I wastooinvolved in the case, after all.
She’ll serve as a good way to release any pent-up frustration I run into at work. And she’ll definitely be back for more.
I fucking love New York.
Carmela
“You look beautiful tonight. For someone who keeps getting death threats, you’re glowing,” Mick says smoothly, holding the door open for me to slide out of the town car he sent for me.
My knee-jerk reaction is to tell him it’s because I got fucked last night, but the last thing I want before we meet the detective he flew in is for him to lose his shit over another man touching me. Mick likes to think he owns me. And while I may cave every now and then and let him back into my bed, he certainly doesn’t get to dictate what I do with my personal time.
His hand rests on the small of my back as we walk into NYPD Headquarters. The sun has long since started its descent below the horizon, the dusky oranges mixing with the blues of the starry night sky.The timing for this meeting isn’t ideal, with the dinner crowd at the restaurant I own and prep starting for Désirer, my adult club. Still, the need to stay low and not attract paparazzi means late-night discussions with this new detective and the Chief of Police on how this operation will run.
The building empties as we enter the elevator, most people going home for the evening. Mick hits a button for one of the top floors. “Tell me again why you decided to fly this particular detective across the country? Surely there are plenty of men here who can catch this guy?”
This guybeing whoever keeps sending me creepy letters with nursery rhymes alluding to my death. It’s been three weeks with as many letters—all typed out, all accompanied by a decaying red rose tied with a black ribbon.
“If it were just notes this guy was leaving, it would be a different story, Mellie. But we’ve got two dead bodies on our hands, and we’re damn lucky Paul isn’t making us shut down.” His hand skims lower, the large palm cupping my backside gently and pulling me into his side. “I want you safe. This guy comes highly recommended.”
Ah, yes. There have also been two murders, and while they didn’t happen at the club, the men who were killed were quickly pinpointed to have memberships at Désirer. Mick doesn’t think it’s a coincidence.
For a moment, I allow myself to sink into his familiar warmth, a faint hint of vanilla engulfing my senses. I used to love that smell…until I discovered it came from his wife’s perfume. Still, mixed with the tobacco and freshly cut grass scent that is uniquely Mick, I relish it for a few seconds before stepping out of his hold.
Before he can say anything, the elevator doors open, and I don’t wait for him as I step out onto a lifeless floor of cubicles and desks. On the far side of the space is a large room encased in glass, which houses a table that a bunch of men are sitting around. Some of them I recognize, like Paul Westin, the Chief of Police, and Lieutenant Larry Wrighton. Two have their backs to me, and I don’t recognize the other.
I’m the only woman in attendance. Typical, that my life sits in the hands of a bunch of men.
I love putting on a show. When all eyes are on me, I flourish. But every step forward has anxiety dripping from my pores, my thoughts a frantic fray ofshould I have worn something different? Flats instead of heels? Less makeup?So that they’d take me more seriously.
As if he can read my thoughts and body language, Mick catches up to me, bending to whisper, “You look incredible. Stop worrying.”
This morning, I chose one of my signature pantsuits—black, high-waisted, wide-legged pants with a modest black top under a matching suit jackettailored specifically for me. My pantsuits make me feel powerful, like I look as important as I feel in them. But in all honesty, I feel more at home in the costumes and clothes I wear at Désirer.
Men pay more attention to me and give me more respect when I’m wearing next to nothing—ironic, I know.
All eyes turn to us as Mick opens the door and ushers me inside. I don’t bother gracing anyone but the Chief with my gaze, which is tight with apprehension. We’ve worked together for years, but I still always feel like I have to be on my guard around him, as though at any moment, he’s going to slap a pair of cuffs on my wrists and haul me away for all the illegal shit I do, no matter how complicit he is.
“Carmela, Mick, good to see you both.” Paul walks forward and shakes my hand before he and Mick do one of those one-armed hug things men like to do. He introduces the rest of the men I’ve never met, before they all fall into easy conversation that has nothing to do with murders or death threats.
Since none of the men are introduced as this mysterious detective Mick paid a fortune for, I assume we’re still waiting for him and survey the room from my place at Mick’s side. Besides Paul and Larry, there are Martin and Nikolai, who look like they’re fresh out of the academy, and Captain Kevin Krowder, who looks like he’s more interested in hisphone than what the rest of the men are talking about.
Mere minutes go by before the door opens behind us, and a familiar voice rings out, “Sorry I’m late. I thought California traffic was bad. It’s got nothing on rush hour here, though.”