A Twist Of Heat (H.E.A.T. Book 2.5) Page 8

  Her eyes reluctantly rise up from staring hungrily at my cock. This woman truly does undo me. Her lust could quite possibly match mine.

  “Do you know what that difference is, Haydee?”

  Frown lines mar her once smooth forehead, she tilts her head and blinks back at me.

  I start climbing up the bed, wrapping one hand around her ankle and lowering my lips to her toes and kissing each one. I move to the neglected foot and repeat the process before answering.

  “The difference, Haydee,” I say, between little nips on her calf muscle. “Is I am your cop. I am your protector. I am your safety.”

  I lick behind her knee and watch her writhe. Her hips lifting off the bed in invitation. I take my time. I don’t rush this. I worship her body with tongue flicks and open mouthed kisses. I bite the soft, succulent flesh of her thighs, leaving crescent shaped teeth marks in her skin. I rub my stubble over her lower stomach, bury my nose in her folds and inhale.

  My lips wrap around her clit and suck softly. My hands slip under her arse and lift her up for my taking. I lick her until she’s close enough for me to feel the tiny tremors in her centre. To smell her arousal and taste the sweet honey that’s pooling there.

  I pull back when she’s panting and start to kiss her belly, tugging the bar she has pierced at her belly button between my teeth. Perspiration glistens on her glorious flesh. I rub my cheek against it, then kiss every single rib.

  Did he break them? Did he bruise this wonderful creature’s skin?

  I push the thoughts aside and concentrate on Haydee. This is all for Haydee. My touch turns firmer; she’s ready. My fingers dig into her flesh, pinch her nipples. I suck her entire breast into my mouth, pulling hard, while my palm wraps around her neck and pins her to the bed. The chain presses into my chest, which in turn presses it back into Haydee’s stomach. We’re bound by it through that simple touch.

  She’s whimpering, mentally she’ll be begging. But my sweet girl knows not to talk. I move my lips over my hand at her throat, kissing her through my spread fingers.

  “How hard, Haydee?” I ask. “How hard do you want to come?”

  “Oh,” she moans, a delightful crack in her composure. I chuckle and start sucking on the skin over her pulse. It’s thundering beneath the sensitive skin.

  I settle between her thighs and rock against her clit, not entering, but teasing. She wraps her legs around my arse without permission.

  “Ah, Haydee,” I say, rolling us until she’s on top and I have access to those gorgeous cheeks.

  I run both hands down her back, smooth flesh under hot palms, and then smack both butt cheeks simultaneously. My lips pull back from her throat and I look her in the eyes. “How hard?” I say.

  She nods.

  “You may talk,” I offer.

  “Hard,” she breathes.

  I grip the chain hanging between her breasts and move it over her shoulder, letting it fall down her back, instead of her front.

  “Hands behind your back,” I instruct.

  She obliges so quickly, I can tell it’s what she’s been waiting for. The moment I contain her, take away something, but replace it with something more.

  I sit up, aware she’s watching my abdominal muscles bunching with avid delight, and reach around her back, grasping both wrists in one hand, while the other grips the chain and pulls it tight. It makes her head tip up, face to the ceiling, eyes no longer on her prize. I wrap the chain securely around her wrists and then lie back down again.

  “You know the rules,” I say. “The jewels can hurt if you pull against the chain too hard.”

  Her breasts are pointing up as well, pert little nipples begging for my touch. I reach up and pinch them, not releasing the pressure, but sustaining it. She writhes on top of me, panting, sweat glistened, chest rising and falling as she succumbs.

  Her hands move, but not enough to cause injury, only enough to give her focus when the sensations at her breasts become too much.

  “Rise up on your knees,” I say. She does as commanded. Face still tipped to the ceiling, nipples still held securely between my fingers and thumbs. I rock my hips, making my cock spring up into position. “You feel it there?” I ask.

  She tries to nod, but the chain restricts her movement. I understand her completely though.

  “I want you to ride me, Haydee. I want you to fuck my cock as though it’s your sole purpose in life. Make me feel it. Make me want more. And when I’m satisfied, I’ll release your nipples and send you into free fall.”

  She makes a sound; desperate, eager, frantic. We’re both frantic for each other.

  “Fuck me, Haydee,” I demand.

  She sinks down and it takes every muscle in my face not to cry out in relief.

  And then she fucks me. My goddess rides my cock like it was meant to be inside her. Fucks me with every inch of her being, every part of her soul. I watch her come apart on top of me. I watch her do it all. Completely in control, even though she’s tied up and doing what I have instructed.

  She’s mine to command, but this is all hers. Her moment. Her freedom.

  Her safety.

  I release her nipples when I start to see black dots in my vision with the effort expended not to come. She screams as she orgasms around me. She fills the room up with her ecstasy as I fill her up with my come.

  Jesus. The dots take over and for a minute I can’t see a thing. But feel? Oh God, I feel.

  We are both shuddering as I release her wrists and ease the chain around her neck. She slumps down on top of me, hard breaths, racing hearts, sweaty and sated limbs. I wrap my arms around her and hold her to me.

  I’ve given her what she needs and now it’s my turn.

  “Are you OK?” I ask eventually. Whispered words in her ear.

  She nods her head.

  “Say it,” I press, unsure if I should or not. “Say what you feel,” I add.

  “Free,” she whispers back, snuggling down further into my embrace. “Safe,” she says a few seconds later and then drifts off to sleep.

  I don’t know whether Haydee will ever be able to talk about London. I don’t know if that part of her life has any more claim. But I do know I’ll wait, patiently. I’ll not press. I’ll not ask.

  As long as her answer is always, “Free… and safe.”

  Chapter 7

  “What happens now, my love?”

  The week blurs by in such a multicoloured hue of colours and sensations and Haydee’s cries of release. She stayed the night on Monday. And again on Wednesday. Then, in a fit of overindulgence, I insisted she stay again last night.

  I can’t tell if her open acceptance of my demands for more of her time is because she’s as eager as me, or if it’s now ingrained in her to do as I say, no questions asked. But we had settled on only three week nights, so tonight, a Friday, I am without my goddess. But I have arranged for her to have dinner with me tomorrow. That’s as long apart as she’ll get.

  It’s crazy. I’m crazy. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want her. This woman owns a part of me and I couldn’t be happier. Even Jason’s persistent phone calls and David Gordon’s veiled threats can’t touch me. Jason is trying to live vicariously and Gordon is all bluster and wind.

  I’m even smiling. Sitting at my desk, staring out the window at the clouds as they rush by, I have a smile on my face. Christine doesn’t quite know how to take me. I can’t blame her. I chuckle to myself as I pick my phone up and dial Jason’s number, finally returning his latest call.

  “And he lives,” my friend announces down the line. Considering it’s his work line and I’m calling from the station, you’d think he’d take more care. Thankfully, I gave up on Christine putting any of my calls through for me the day after she first arrived and put me through to the commissioner instead of the assistant commissioner and I almost called the old man a dishonourable git.

  “And quite brilliantly, at that,” I say, propping my feet up on the desk in a fashion I’ve never ev
en attempted before today.

  I don’t like it. So I remove them and settle for leaning back in my chair instead, ankle to knee.

  “So, the miraculous Haydee cures all that is ill?” Jason teases.

  “My lips are sealed,” I counter.

  “But, I was right, wasn’t I?” he presses. “She’s perfect for you, you can’t deny it.”

  “I’ll deny nothing and confirm even less.”

  “Come on!” he says, exasperated. “When I set you both up it was with the express understanding that I’d receive all the juicy details.” He pauses, then adds in a rush, “They are juicy, aren’t they?”

  “It’s no use,” I offer. “You’ll get nothing from me.”

  He laughs. It sounds genuinely pleased. “Well, now it’s your turn to return the favour,” he says eventually.

  “Oh, I didn’t realise it would cost me.”

  “Of course it’s bloody well going to cost you. Attendance at the Emergency Services banquet, that’s the price I ask.”

  I groan. “Auckland City Supports the EMS,” I say in way of confirmation.

  “That’ll be the one,” he replies cheerfully. “Oh, and Ethan. It’s black tie.” Then he promptly hangs up.

  Brilliant, is all I manage to think in disgust before my internal phone line rings.

  “Yes, Christine,” I say resignedly. For a week that had been going so well, it sure as hell looks like it’s about to end poorly. I hate fundraisers. I hate Emergency Services fundraisers even more.

  “Um,” she whispers into the phone as though she’s trying to hide her words from someone. “I think your daughter is here to see you.”

  Nothing in this world could have prepared me for that. I struggle to breathe, let alone answer my secretary. I stare at the phone as though it’s an alien being. My heart skips and jumps and I’m sure it’s that which is making me feel so lightheaded.

  I close my eyes and let out a long breath of air, and once I’ve sucked it back in again, I say calmly, “You may show her in.”

  I place the phone back in its cradle before Christine replies, and stand from my desk to look out the window. I don’t see it. I see nothing but blonde curls and a chubby pale face grinning up at me covered in chocolate. It’s been six years since Lara chose to last speak to me. Six years of a cold shoulder I know I deserve.

  I hear the door open and then shortly thereafter close. Then nothing as I stare at a scene I have looked upon several times a day, but couldn’t describe in that moment if my life depended on it. I know where she’ll be standing if I turn around. I know how she’ll look. I know the expression she’ll be wearing on her face. Lara doesn’t change much. Once she’s decided on a course of action it might as well be written in stone.

  I turn around and get the first glimpse of my daughter in close quarters for quite some years. She’s tired. More pale than usual. Her hair is windblown, her frame too thin by far. A coffee stain mars her blouse in a blatant display of disregard. If Lara could, she’d throw a fuck you at fashion and be done with it.

  Her mother was the same.

  And suddenly I am furious.

  I hide it all. My perusal. My observations. My rage. I take a seat at my desk and shuffle some papers. God alone knows what they’re all about, but I don’t care. The only thing that matters is that my daughter is standing before me and hasn’t said a fucking word.

  “Lara-Marie,” I say. “This is a surprise.”

  Why now? Why in this moment when everything is starting to make sense in my life? Why bring it all back, just to watch me bleed?

  “Superintendent Keen,” she says and I can’t help my reaction. My head comes up and I stare at her, relief, a somewhat familiar emotion of late, coursing through my body.

  “You’re here on business.” Thank fuck for that.

  “Yes, sir,” she says, taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite my desk. “A case I’m working on.”

  “How can I help?” I ask, eager to please. Work I can handle. Lara asking for help on a case is unusual, but I’ll accept the peace offering, and be thankful it’s not personal.

  Anything else is too painful to even think.

  “It’s delicate, sir,” she says, making me rise to the bait. As usual.

  “No point sugar coating it, Keen. You’re here for a reason, best you just get on with it.”

  Something flashes in her eyes. Something that tears at my heart. I become steel.

  “We’re investigating a gentleman’s club on Karangahape Road,” she announces, and the steel I am begins to heat.

  “And?” I press, calling her bluff.

  “It may be nothing, but we’re covering our bases.”

  “Of course,” I murmur, effecting a relaxed, but attentive pose. “Connected to what?”

  “A homicide.” Now that is unexpected. But strangely, well received.

  “How can Counties assist?” I ask, using the correct title for South Auckland Police.

  I’m not sure what this is all about. I certainly haven’t heard of a murder case, so it must have just transpired. And for it to be connected to Sweet Hell, if Lara is referring to that particular gentleman’s club on Karangahape road, then why is she here? In South Auckland.

  I don’t like where this is going.

  She watches me for a while, then suddenly leans forward. It’s too intimate, when all I’m thinking right now is what I did the last time I was at Sweet Hell. I settle back in my chair and hold her steady gaze.

  She’s good. She’s very good. I’m impressed with my daughter.

  I don’t show it.

  “We’re going through the membership list for Sweet Hell,” she suddenly says, and I know this is not a interdepartmental courtesy call.

  “Sweet Hell,” I say. “I know it.” She doesn’t move an inch. Not even a twitch of an eyelash. There’s nothing for it, she already knows. I can’t see the confirmation on her impassive face. But I see it in her pale blue eyes.

  So like her mother’s.

  “My name is on that list?” I finally say.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what do you wish to know?” I ask. She expects me to fold. She thinks she has me cornered. I stare her down and demand with a look alone for her to up her game. I’m almost eager for her to show me everything she’s got. Lara has always been a challenge. One I had forgotten I enjoyed in the past.

  “What can you tell me about it?” she asks.

  She’s fishing, and I’m suddenly very disappointed.

  “It’s personal,” I reply, words clipped.

  “We understand it’s a gaming establishment and one must be invited to attend,” she presses, and I’ve just about had enough.

  “That’s correct. You hardly need me to provide you that information.”

  “We’re unsure at this stage if drugs are sold on the premises or not,” she continues. I remain silent. Anything I say now could be held against me. “But it’s the Irreverent Inferno that really interests us most.”

  I’m so shocked, I blurt out, “The what?” I gather my wits, ensure I appear outwardly calm, when inside all I see is chaos.

  Dear God, this can’t be happening.

  It takes too long, but finally I manage to say, “It rings a bell.” Pitiful. Absolutely pathetic. I’m angry at myself now, more than Lara.

  “What happens there, sir?”

  “You’re asking questions I cannot answer, Lara.” It’s easiest to stick to the law. I am bound to silence where the Irreverent Inferno exists. Contracted to disclose nothing under penalty of law.

  Lara doesn’t know this and she doesn’t need to. Whatever this murder case is, it won’t lead back to me or the Inferno. The Marcrofts, the owners of Sweet Hell, and the founding members of the Irreverent Inferno, will ensure it doesn’t.

  I mentally dust my hands of it all. Push it from my mind. Now I just need my daughter to leave so I can have a few moments to myself to banish Anna from my mind as well.

  “People wi
ll find out,” she doggedly offers. “This investigation is not closed.”

  “I can make it that way,” I throw back, silently willing her to leave and leave now.

  “A homicide,” she adds, incredulously. “Even you don’t have the clout for that.”

  That’s it. I’ve had enough.

  “Watch yourself, Detective. I hear you’ve been on probation. Would you like a return to it now?”

  I regret the words instantly. I see the hurt in her eyes and then she hides it. It’s an all too familiar expression on my daughter’s face.

  She struggles with herself for a moment and I lower my head, shifting my attention to something on my desk, to give her privacy. It’s what I’d want her to do for me. It’s what I want her to give me now.

  Privacy. To regroup. To mourn. To forget.

  “Just one more question, sir,” she finally says. She sounds strong again.

  I don’t look up. “Yes.”

  “When was your initiation completed?”

  The world stops. The room suddenly loses all air. To become a member of the Irreverent Inferno one must first pass through Hell. Dante’s Hell. All nine circles of it.

  She knows. How she knows, I have no idea. But the fact that she knows is what is most unacceptable. I have tried to protect her from my lifestyle. I have tried to keep the worst of my needs out of her line of sight. I have been discrete. Joined clubs that ensure silence and privacy. Chosen my submissives well. I have done everything to keep Lara free of this.

  And she throws it in my face.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Detective,” I say steadily.

  “Your name…” she tries, but that’s it. No more.

  I can’t bear this another second.

  “Enough! These questions are out of line. You risk insubordination.”

  “It’s an investigation, sir,” she pushes one last time. And I have to respect her tenacity. “I’m obligated to ask the difficult questions.”

  “Never lower yourself to defence, Lara-Marie,” I scold in a voice I know will make her run from me. I use it purposefully. Mainly for me, but also for my daughter. She needs to run. “And should further inquiry into my private life be required,” I add, pulling myself up to full height in my chair, “I’ll expect a personal visit from Inspector Hart and no one else. Is that understood?”