Kienan swallowed as one man threw his head back, obviously reaching orgasm. Stepping away, Kienan turned toward the door, ignoring his body's reminder of how long it had been since he'd gotten some trim. He pulled his ident card out of his jacket pocket and swished it in front of a vidpad beside the entrance. The word
Tail
was etched into the surface of the massive iris door. The vidpad beeped and the middle point of the door split into nine curved slices, retracting into the walls.
Loud synthrock pulsed from inside, and he stepped into the most notorious technobrothel in the world. Where his cousin, Pierce, now made his home with his two mates. One of those mates, Lorelei Chase, was the owner of Tail. She was supposed to be the most beautiful woman alive, and a notorious madam whose jades specialized in any wild pleasure a person could dream up. From what Kienan had seen through the windows, he believed it. What would he find inside?
He shook his head. It was difficult to believe Pierce lived here. Kienan could only hope his cousin was home and willing to see a long-lost relative. Some of the weariness fell away as Kienan moved forward.
This should be interesting.
Â
Sex with Gea was some of the hottest he'd ever had in his life. And he'd had plenty.
Quilliam North grinned, reveling in the feel of soft female curves and raw hot fucking on smooth microsilk sheets. If there was anything better than this, he hadn't found it. She straddled his lap, her back to his front, and he slid his hands up to cup her pert little breasts. The nipples stabbed into his palms, and he couldn't resist them. He pinched, twisted until she moaned.
“Quill!”
“That's my name, dearheart,” he purred.
She stiffened a bit at the nickname, one he knew she wasn't comfortable with. But that was why he used it. Because she reacted, because he couldn't resist pushing her buttons. Because in the year they'd been having sex, she'd continued to shy away from anything that might be called affection, intimacy. She didn't cling like other women when she got near a man with as much money as he had. She didn't demand more. She just used him for his body, fucked his brains out whenever she happened to be in the mood, and then she disappeared again.
She fascinated him.
Shoving deep into her pussy, he ran one hand down to tweak her clit, just the way she liked it.
“Move on me, Gea.” He let his fingertip slide in to tease her slick flesh, stretched around his cock.
Leaning forward to brace her palms on his thighs, she did as he wanted. Her hips rose and fell, her wet pussy taking his dick deep. They moved together, the carnal sounds of mating making the leopard within him purr. Blood pulsed through his veins, hot and fast. Every micrometer of her soft skin that rubbed against him just served to stimulate his senses. Her scent, her touch. He dipped his head forward to bite the back of her shoulder. A flavor that was uniquely Gea's filled his mouth. His fangs scored her flesh and a moan bubbled out of her, her sex flexing on his cock.
A groan tangled with a hiss in his throat, and his claws slid out. He used one to flick her hardened clit, oh so lightly. She cried out, her sex clamping down on his. Deus, she was close to the edge. He could sense it, smell her dampness, feel the way all those delicate little muscles gripped and released his cock. It turned him on, made him pant for breath.
Her hands tightened on his legs and she worked herself on him harder, faster. The friction was enough to drive him wild. He hissed, his fangs scraping his lower lip, the leopard warring with the man for dominance. Only Gea had ever brought him this close to feral during sex since he was an untried youth. Even then it hadn't been this intense. Arching his hips, he thrust into her, meeting her halfway.
“Quill!” She froze over him for just a moment; then her movements grew frantic and she pumped herself on his cock while she reached orgasm.
The contractions of her pussy around his shaft were enough to send him spinning. His mind emptied and he thrust into her again and again. He held her tight to the base of his cock, grinding his pelvis into her until his come exploded from his body in shuddering waves. Ecstasy rolled through him and a feline roar ripped from him.
She collapsed forward and he caught her, pulling her back into him and rolling them onto their sides on his wide mattress. Sweat made their flesh glide together, and his teeth locked at how good it felt. He ran his hand down her side, enjoying the feel of her silky skin.
Shivering a little, she sighed. “I have to go.”
“I know.” It irked him, and it amused him that he was so annoyed. How long had he wished for a woman just like her? One who didn't give a damn about how many creds he had in his bank accounts? He suppressed a snort. Well, he always got what he wanted, didn't he?
She scooted to the side of the bed, sitting up to stretch. “I have to meet with someone soon.”
“Ah, I wondered what brought you down to my part of the city.” He folded his hands behind his head, watching her nude form move around the room to collect her discarded clothes. All of them were black, the better to blend in to the night. Now the color just accentuated her creamy coloring. She really was a beautiful woman, made even more so by the fact that she cared even less about her beauty than she did about his money. It simply wasâshe didn't play it up.
Wisps of white-blond hair danced around her face and brushed her chin, but tapered to a sharp point at the nape of her neck. The pale color nearly matched her fur when she shifted into an arctic fox. So lovely, so cagey. A mystery that constantly intrigued him. She thrust her fingers through those shiny locks. Experience taught him exactly how soft and silky those thick strands were. Wide brown eyes dominated her face, but it was the curiosity and mischief that often filled her expression that made him come back for a second look. She wasn't short, but couldn't be called tall either. Her body was toned and athletic, with just enough curve to fill his palms. Perfect.
She slid her shirt over her head, covering the small nanotat of a hummingbird that fluttered back and forth across one shoulder blade, the delicate wings in constant motion beneath her skin. The shirt also hid her lush breasts from view. A pity. She cast a glance at him. “This part of the city doesn't belong to you, despite what you might think.”
“Give me time, Ms. Crevan.” He let an easy grin spread across his face. “Just . . . give me time.”
Snorting, she shook her head. “Should I be impressed now?”
“Do I impress you?” Where had
that
question come from? It had been years since he'd cared what anyone thought of him. One didn't survive a childhood like his and come out on top without stepping on a few toes in the process. Or stepping over a few dead bodies. Such was life in the Vermilion.
“Why would you want to impress me? I'm nobody in your powerful world.” She rolled her eyes. “I'm in this part of town for a job, but you've already figured that out.”
“Of course.” He kept his smile in place. “Why else would you come over here?”
“It isn't exactly what attracts the tourists.”
He chuckled. “Depends on what they're looking for. There are a few
attractions
that can only be found here.”
“Too true.” Her nose wrinkled.
Drugs, weapons, whores who'd fulfill any fantasy or fetish one might want to indulge in. For some, this patch of sin was as close to nirvana as they'd ever come. Ironic, but he made a tidy profit from all those depravities. “Who's your client this time? What dirty little secret are they having you unearth? Pity the unfortunate soul they've set you upon.”
Her white teeth flashed in a smile, and he saw a hint of fang. “I take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it as one.” He quirked an eyebrow, crossing his ankles. “Details, dearheart.”
She growled, the fox even more evident. “Don't call me that.”
“You don't want to be dear to me?” He clapped a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
“Ha!” Her tone was scornful, but her lips twitched in a grin he knew she didn't want to show him. The feline in him couldn't resist taunting her. She reacted so nicely.
“Maybe you'd be dearer to me if you told me a little about you. Come on, what was your mother's name? Where did you grow up? A tiny clue about the mystery that is Gea.” Partially he was yanking her tail again, but partially he wanted to know. If he really needed the information, he could pay to get it, but he enjoyed the game too much to end it easily.
Her grin was quick, a spark of wickedness flashing in her gaze. “Now, what fun would it be if I told you?”
“Perhaps I should guess . . .” He pretended to consider. “You're a Tahitian princess exiled from her homeland?”
She pulled a lock of her pale hair in front of her eyes. “Hm. Yes, Tahitian. That's likely.”
Releasing her hair, she stooped over and picked up a small pack to sling across her shoulder.
“What's in the bag?” It was a standard question, one that he knew she wouldn't answer.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Quit being nosy.”
“Coming from you, that's rich.” He chortled and she had the grace to flush, but she still didn't give him an answer.
The woman was a private investigator, a specialist in digging into other people's business. That she was so guarded and protective of her own privacy made excellent fodder for him to tease her.
“Fine, keep your secrets.” Sobering, he sighed. “At least tell me who's hired you this time. Perhaps I can help.”
Her work was how they'd met in the first place. Someone had hired her to ferret out information about a colleague of his, and her meddling had brought her to his attention. He'd developed a soft spot for his fox and had occasionally fed her intel to assist in her investigations. It behooved her to tell him what he wanted to know.
Hesitating for a long moment, she shrugged and capitulated. “Who hired me isn't important. Who I'm looking for is. Do you know Felicia Tamryn?”
“Tam? Yes, I know her.” A grifter of the first order. She was a cheetah-shifter who could make a man fall in love with her with a single glance . . . and rob him blind before he could blink.
Gea's brown eyes locked on him. “Have you seen her?”
“Not recently.” He frowned, groping through his memory to find the last one he had of Tam. “Not for a few months, at least, but we don't always move in the same circles.”
Gea hummed in her throat. “If you happen to see her, don't tell her I'm looking. Or that anyone might want to find her.”
He chuckled. “Scared she'll outrun you?”
“She
is
a cheetah.”
“Touché.” His chuckle turned into a laugh, and he wrapped an arm around his stomach. For some reason, the thought of his little fox trying to run down a big cat amused him to no end.
“She might be fast, but that doesn't mean I can't catch her.” Huffing, she picked up a pillow and threw it at his head. “I'm leaving now.”
Getting his laughter under control, he couldn't resist a last dig. “It was lovely seeing you again, dearheart. Do come again. And I'll make you come again. And again.”
Her body stiffened, but heated awareness flashed in her gaze. She crossed her arms to cover hardened nipples that thrust against her shirt. “Good-bye, Quill.”
He grinned and shook his head as she darted out the door, but any desire to linger in bed went with her. Rising, he moved to the window and pushed aside the curtain. From here, he could see the gleam of her pale hair under the streetlights until she pulled a black cap on and was engulfed by the darkness of the Vermilion.
Forcing himself to look away, he glanced out over the rest of the city. New Chicago at night was all towering mercurite skyrises and glittering lights. The Lakeshore District and downtown had been built over the rubble of the old city after urban riots had destroyed everything in the last great war. As close as it was in kilometers, that gleaming elegance was a world away from where he grew up in the Vermilion.
Now he was somewhere in between those worlds. His headquarters were right on the edge of the Vermilion, far enough away that his legitimate business associates felt safe coming here, close enough that his seedier contacts didn't have to stray far from their own territory. It had worked out well for him, and he liked that his penthouse flat took up the entire top floor of the building. Work was always close by if he needed to take care of something, but he could lock himself away if he required some peace.
While he was glad to have clawed his way out of the gutter, a part of him would always belong in the Vermilion. It was in his attitude toward business, cutthroat and unapologetic. He'd use whatever advantages he could to ensure he was never at anyone's mercy again. Now he had the power, and he'd do whatever it took to keep it and ensure his fortune thrived.