Chapter 4 #2
“My friends are good people. Mostly theater people. They would never rob anyone, let alone you,” I say. “And the people with them were strangers from out of town. It’s not—none of them could’ve been involved in anything.”
“So there’s no risk in giving us their names.”
I shrug and rattle off a list of people.
“Four dancers, three male, one female. An actress. A couple that does set design and their in-laws who were in town. Three singers from out of town who’d come to audition for our next production and their respective boyfriends.
My neighbor, Specs, and his wife. They’re high school teachers.
Plus Specs’ brother and his boyfriend. I think they live in Boston. And then Rachel.”
“Was Rachel’s fiancé there?” Trick asks.
I shake my head, wondering how much C Crue knows about her engagement.
“So Rachel came alone?” Trick asks. “We hear Frank usually sends a bodyguard or two with her these days.”
“She sometimes goes out without anyone. That night, she did.”
“So she sneaks out?” Trick asks.
I don’t want to answer him, so I don’t. This isn’t about Rachel, and the last thing I want to do is give anyone information that could be passed on as gossip and get back to Frank.
“You don’t think five-foot-three Rachel who weighs a hundred and five pounds was involved in robbing you, do you?
And that no one would’ve recognized her when, because of the Instagram account, she’s the most famous person in the city?
What would her role have been? The person who climbs through a vent in the ceiling? ”
“A vent in the ceiling? How did you know that’s how they got in?” Trick asks.
I flush. “I didn’t! I don’t!”
The three men exchange looks.
“C said he’d been robbed. I just assumed he meant someone had broken into his office.”
“Which office?”
I stare at them. “I don’t know,” I say, realizing I’ve never heard anyone say that they know where C Crue has its business offices. “I guess you work from home?” I ask, trying to work things out. “But I can’t imagine someone breaking in here.”
“That would be something,” Trick says lightly.
“Maybe take a swim in the pool. Borrow a towel from Anvil’s cinder block apartment.
One of his towels would be like a blanket for someone Rachel’s size, assuming she was in on it, with the vent-crawling.
” Trick’s deadpan joking should put me at ease, but it doesn’t, because there’s a dangerous edge to him. I can see that now.
Anvil returns to the pool table, racking the balls for another game.
“I’ll break,” Trick says, turning away from me to play.
Several moments pass. “What’s going on?” I whisper.
“You gave us the information we wanted. Come with me,” he says.
I follow him. “No one broke into an office or a house, did they? Trick just said that to see what else I’d say? It was some other kind of robbery?”
He nods.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
“No. I like listening to you spin your theories.”
I exhale, feeling lighter and more relieved than I’ve been since I saw that mark on my door. He knows I have no idea how that money was taken or how it got into my apartment.
He starts up the stairs. I pause at the bottom.
“What are we doing now?” I say.
“We’re gonna get to know each other better.”
It’s not a good idea. I press a finger against my lips for a moment.
“Do I have a choice about that?” I ask, not completely sure what I want the answer to be.
He is looking extremely gorgeous to me now that I know he’s not planning to kill me or turn me over to his partners to be tortured.
But there’s still his war with Frank. I can’t ever be seen as siding with C Crue on anything, and if I’m not here so he can keep interrogating me, then why am I here now?
“You have a choice about some things, but not about whether you come upstairs. That’s nonnegotiable, so come,” he says, holding out his hand.
I ascend a couple of steps, but don’t put my hand in his, even though I’d like to.
“C, I should go. You should let me go now.”
“Should I?” he asks in a low voice. “I don’t think so.”
My breath catches, but when he beckons me, my body sails on, gliding behind him.
He leads me into a bedroom where there is a king-sized bed with a giant wood frame. The carpet is a swirl of brown and beige. I don’t know what it cost, but I know it’s the most expensive carpet I’ve ever seen. On a whim, I bend forward and run my hand over it.
“Beautiful,” I say. “You have an amazing house.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls off his boots. He tosses them into the corner. “Strip down for me. I want to look at you.”
I undress all the time backstage in front of dozens of people, men and women. But here, alone with him, it’s very different. I hesitate, trying to figure a way out of the house.
“I think I could use another drink.”
“Later. First, do what I asked.”
“You’re very good at issuing orders,” I say.
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“With everyone? Not just the people who work for you, but in your bedroom, too?”
He nods. “I’m the boss in every room. Not that I usually have women in this room.”
“Where do you have them?” I ask.
“Elsewhere,” he says. “It’s not important.”
I’ve heard things about him and his friends. They’re rumored to like things rough and dirty—very, very dirty. I wonder how much of the gossip is true. A part of me has always wanted to find out the truth for myself.
“Connor, look, I can’t be with you. Frank would see that as a betrayal.
He’s done things for me, supported me financially after my mom got sick.
You and he are enemies now. A condition of my being allowed to perform at the theater was that I wouldn’t socialize or even speak to you.
I can’t help that you brought me here, but I can ask you to let me go now. ”
“You gave us some information. Until we verify whether what you told us is true, you’re not going anywhere.”
I stare at him. “I mean—there were a lot of people at my place. You can’t just keep me here as a prisoner until someone talks to all of them. That could take days.”
“I can keep you here as long as I want,” he says.
A knot twists in my belly. I’m both terrified and excited by the prospect of spending days with him.
“If Frank finds out I’m here, I’ll have no choice but to tell him that I was held against my will.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea? Making this personal?”
“It’s always been personal. Frank made it that way.”
“What happened?” I ask. “What made you leave?”
“That’s enough questions.”
“I really want to know. Why wouldn’t you tell me? I know what business you’re in. Everyone does.”
“It’s time for another lesson,” he says, gesturing to his lap.
I don’t move. “C, no.”
“For the rest of the night, you’re going to call me Sir. Clear?”
I shake my head. In an instant, he grabs me and tosses me over his hard thighs. I struggle as he pulls my leggings down. The first smacks are firm enough to sting badly, and they only intensify.
“Oh, God,” I husk as he pins my leg.
The heat consumes my ass until it throbs. I feel swollen and sore.
“Please, C—I mean, Sir,” I say with a gasp.
He pauses, rubbing my ass. I squirm, friction heightening the pain even as I feel my pussy getting wetter.
“Strip down,” he says. “Sweater and bra off.”
I obey, panting. The sweater drops to the floor. Then I unhook the bra. It slips from my shoulders, and my breasts hang free, shimmying as I move.
“Good girl.”
It’s humiliating. So why am I so wet?
I feel his erection pressing against me.
I’m caught up by his excitement. A reflexive pulse deep in my pussy has me creaming my lace panties. He slides my thong down to my knees.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.” He squeezes my ass, then returns to slapping it.
The heat intensifies. “I—”
He pauses. “What, sweetheart?”
“How much more?” Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t buck or fight.
“A few,” he says. Then he gives me more. And more. The heavy swats intensify.
Finally, I gasp and squirm. “Sir, please!”
He pauses and rubs my backside, letting a low groan escape.
“Relax for me,” he says, fingers delving between my thighs and tracing the seam of my moist lips.
I moan.
His other hand cups my breast and kneads it slowly. “I can spank you long and slow until you’re so hot for me you’ll be wet enough to coat my tongue when I go down on you.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Do you want that?”
“Yes,” I say, because I’m not thinking clearly.
A fingertip slides up to my asshole, and I freeze.
“Anyone fuck you here?”
“No,” I stammer. “Are—do you like that?”
“Yeah, I do. Some other night I’ll show you. Get on the bed,” he says, helping me up. “Take off your underwear, lie on your back, and spread your legs.”
I obey orders. On the bed, I’m naked and feel incredibly exposed. He still hasn’t undressed.
He hauls his sweater off and tosses it aside. Then he drops onto the bed and crawls between my legs, moving like a panther.
A moment later, my legs are over his shoulders and his tongue is licking the moisture from inside me. I writhe and moan. No one has ever done it this way. A few kisses and haphazard licks from other guys in the past left me unsatisfied. What he does is devour me.
His mouth is rough, which feels excruciating and amazing.
“More. Please, more,” I say in a husky, desperate voice.
He moves up my body, my legs still hooked over his broad shoulders. My pussy’s tipped upward, giving him perfect access. He sinks into me with a deep groan. The stretch in all the soft wet places makes me moan too.
“More,” I whisper.
He gives me plenty more in a steady rhythm that claims me, body and soul. I run my hands over his hard muscles, gripping his back. He slows long enough to kiss me. I love the taste of him, and the kiss ends with my gasp.
His fingers tangle in my hair and tug my head to the side. It gives him access to my neck, which he licks and then sucks. “You’re mine tonight.”
I cling to him.
He’s relentless then, his pelvis grinding against mine, his cock plunging into my wet depths.
“Mmm. I love your body.” He bends and sucks my nipple before biting it lightly with his teeth. A hand slides under to grip my ass. He squeezes it in his big palm. “These sweet cheeks are gonna sting and swell when I spank you; it’ll make you all hot and wet for my big cock.”
When I come, I shatter.
“That’s it. Milk my cum into you.” He pins me down and drives deep, pulsing liquid heat inside me.