Authors: Meg Silver
A small vindictive imp inside made an equally small, indulgent smile surface. Against his neck, she asked, “Who’s the horrible submissive now?”
His chest lurched as he let out a quiet laugh. “Ah, Christ. Help.”
She smiled in full, then, and the effect on Thomas was explosive. His hands came up to her jawline, and then she was the one with her back to the wall while he held her in place for a bruising kiss. And just when she thought she would freefall through the entire thing, submit and allow chemistry to consume them both, he took his mouth away and stepped back, hauling in a deep breath and pulling her away from the wall.
Gentler now, he steered her a few steps into the bedroom and when he paused beside the bed, the kiss this time was scalding. Hot and hungry, and somewhere in the middle of all that fire, she realized she’d had sex with Darren less intimate than this kiss. The feeling was intensified when he started to peel away her clothes. First the blue jacket, then the white shirt. He skipped her bra to go after the ankle boots and slacks. No matter how many times they’d seen each other perform, nothing ever left her as breathless and exposed and vulnerable as feeling him unhook her bra and draw the straps down her arms. Every time his fingertips brushed her skin, she felt it clear through to her spine.
It seemed to take forever before his hands were cupping her bare breasts. Still longer before she felt that rigidly defined torso against her much softer flesh, and the taut heat of his erection against her belly.
The skin felt good. So good. But more awaited, and she could feel herself shaking as Thomas flattened his hands against her waist, tucked his fingers under her panties and began to lower them. All the way down, and he kissed her navel while she stepped out of them.
There was only so much patience to go around by then. He made her lie down on the bed and, standing over her, sent two fingers right into her pussy, pressing his thumb onto her clit. The sound she made, the breathy squeal, sent a flare or raw arousal through his eyes.
She pulled at him, clutched at his sides, trying to draw him nearer, but he was intent on what we was doing, thumbing her clit and pressing his fingers in still deeper. Her mouth gaped open and her back arched as a blast of bright pleasure steamrolled straight over her.
When she opened her eyes, Thomas put his other hand between her breasts. He was watching, drinking in the way she writhed in pleasure. And he knew just how to touch, curling his fingers and re-directing his focus straight to her g-spot.
She felt her pussy clench as if it could suck his fingers. Thomas felt it, too, and responded by crawling onto the bed to lie alongside her, and reclaim her mouth while drawing hard circles with that thumb.
So close to coming. He already had the juices dripping out. She could feel it cooling on her thigh.
What happened next surprised her. He changed course utterly, withdrawing his hand and rolling onto his back and returning her to power. And she did not hesitate to reclaim it. She was up and straddling him the next moment. Eager. Anxious, even, to grab onto his shaft and slowly, carefully draw the tip of him along her slickened, swollen pussy lips.
Then it was his turn to pant and writhe, and hers to watch the desire dilate his pupils. And God the tip of him was so hot. So ready. One little tilt of the pelvis, one little flex of her thighs and finally the head of his cock was inside her.
Both of them inhaled sharply and paused. No rushing past this moment. No brushing aside how it felt and what it meant to connect this way after months of dancing around it.
Feeling uncertain and ravenous all at once, she looked down at those sweltering dark eyes as he let his hands settle on her thighs, holding her still, prolonging even this fledgling penetration to savor it a moment longer.
Apparently assured she wouldn’t move without him, he reached up to sink his hands into the hair at her nape, pulling her mouth down to him. The rest of her followed. The feel of him penetrating her, warming her, so hard against that hyper-sensitized ring of nerves made her lips part on a silent gasp of erotic tumult.
She could feel the orgasm taking shape already. Deep and hot. Dark and sweet and building and poised to let go the moment he did. And when he eased his grip on her enough, she let her hips and thighs have their way. They started a slow, cautious grind that soon had Thomas hissing air through his teeth.
Never, not once had she ever seen him so abandoned. The sight of her effect on him sent her straight over the cliff. A bright spot of pleasure broke open like sunlight burning through clouds. While the light gathered, inhaled like the breath before a shout, and her mind was somewhere between gone and God, Thomas tightened his hold once more. Her back was arched and thighs locked wide open, trapped in that moment of detonation. He thrust himself deeper and she was leveled, shot through with physical joy, and crying out as his body rushed to catch up with hers in sharp, involuntary thrusts, his arms like rock.
By the time her body allowed her to return to the present, Thomas had relaxed against the mattress, still hanging on. Lying atop him, she pressed her lips to the side of his neck once more, wondering how, exactly, she was supposed to feel about this. He might trust her now, but she wasn’t stupid: he expected her to leave Fantasy Heights. Never mind the sex. If this place had taught her anything, it was that people had sex for all sorts of reasons: Intimacy. Love. Stress relief. Entertainment. Bonding. Boredom. Reconciliation. Affirmation.
This sex meant goodbye.
She picked her head up. “No.”
He kissed her chin. “What?”
“No. I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving you
or
Josh here to deal with all this. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t, but I can try.”
He sighed. “You don’t want to be here for this. If I’m right about what’s coming, it’ll kill Josh. You have no idea.”
“All the more reason for me to stay. Thomas, please tell me what you’re so afraid of. At least allow me make an informed decision.”
Thomas stared up into her eyes. It seemed to take forever for him to reach a decision. Finally, he sighed. “Right. Maybe you’ll listen if I do actually tell you the truth. See how long it takes before you stop thinking with your hormones and start thinking with your brain.”
“Hey.” She compressed her thighs up against his sides, holding him tightly in place. “It’s not just hormones or chemicals. I care about you. I care what happens to you. Deal with it.”
His capitulation gave new meaning to ‘begrudged.’ Steely looks and long, thunderous silences ensued even while they collected themselves and left the townhouse. Thomas took her back to Fantasy Heights and into the business office building, through yet another door that led down into the tunnels. Dark polished concrete floors again. Motion detectors turned lights on for them as they proceeded through the semi-familiar square layout of the Accord offices. Beyond them, Thomas took another turn into a hallway already lit up. Halfway down, about thirty yards ahead, she could see debris on the floor. Dust hung suspended in the air, illuminated by a florescent fixture. Some larger pieces of what looked like rock were scattered around a large trash barrel, and a push-broom had been propped against the wall nearby.
Headed that direction, Thomas started to talk. “This underground facility was one of several built to house federal judicial-branch officials in the event of a disaster. The location was later retired because it couldn’t be fortified well enough to protect against nuclear attack. The Prescott family picked it up for a relative song, considering. It’s got everything, including a medical facility.”
The closer they came to the barrel, the more detail Amanda could make out. Someone had ripped down a concrete barrier, uncovering a recess. Closer still, she could see a heavy steel door set into the recess.
Not comforting. The door had been cemented over to conceal it. And now someone had re-opened it again.
Thomas stopped as they drew level with the recess. “This is your last chance to walk away. I’m warning you. Once we go through this door, you can never un-ring this bell.”
She did think about it. Self-preservation instincts had her stomach twisting inside out. The problem had seemed much easier to face when it had been confined to Fantasy Heights, but the addition of history, cement and ‘medical facility’ turned it into so much more.
The decision was taken away from her when the door opened from the inside and someone stuck their head out.
Amanda frowned. The woman was familiar to her. Dark hair, pretty green eyes. She knew this person, but couldn’t place her.
They made eye contact for an instant, and a memory clicked. That antique shop right outside town. The place where she’d found the postcard that pointed her toward Fantasy Heights. “What the hell?”
“Ah, shit,” Thomas muttered.
The woman in the door way turned on him. “What is she doing here?”
“Me?” Amanda echoed. “What are
you
doing here?”
Thomas recovered. “Hold your fire. Amanda, this is Special Agent Helen Reyes, retired. She was my predecessor as the Accord’s DOJ enforcer. She’s very kindly been helping me out with some things. And you—” he pointed to Helen “—need to find Phillip. I can all but confirm Janos is loose in the wild.”
Amanda looked back and forth between Thomas and Helen. She couldn’t tell what was more horrifying, the way Thomas steeled himself to say it, or the way Helen reacted. The woman turned stark white, and tears began to pool.
“The prints matched,” Helen concluded.
Thomas nodded.
“Oh, God. You better tell Phillip. He’s in the records room.”
While Helen picked up the broom and began to sweep up more debris, Thomas took Amanda’s hand and pulled her through the door. Inside was a narrower hallway that let out into a lobby. Beyond the boxy reception desk was another hallway lined with doors. Some stood open, some remained closed. Those she could see into as they passed seemed to be either exam rooms, labs or treatment bays.
At the very end of the hall they entered a room sixty-feet square full of shelving lined with files and boxes.
Seated at a table near the door was another person she’d seen but didn’t know. ‘Tunnel man,’ with the dark bedroom eyes and his distinguished gray temples. Gone was the gorgeous suit. This time he had dressed for his gloomy, chilly surroundings in jeans and a white sweatshirt.
She couldn’t help it. She blurted out the question. “Who are you?”
“You don’t know?” Thomas asked.
“No. We’ve never met. Well, except that one time, on the day of auditions.”
Tunnel man did not agree. “Wrong. You and I have met before. A bunch of times, actually. Remember your first night on duty? I was in the makeup chair. Kara was turning me into an actor.”
Amanda frowned, and searched his features. She remembered that night. She could have sworn the guy was an A-list actor. “No way. Kara said you were a dead ringer to begin with.”
“Maybe fifteen years ago. Not so much anymore. I did the knighting ceremony with you as well, though you wouldn’t have recognized me that night. Different face entirely. I’m Phillip Irving. Custom fantasy team lead.”
That made sense, especially when she remembered that thing he’d done with her belt that made her want to melt.
He looked to Thomas. “I trust there’s a good reason she’s down here?”
Thomas held his hands up. “She’s the least of our worries. The prints matched. The Arizona girl is Nicole, no question. And I know sorry doesn’t cover it, but… I’m sorry.”
Tunnel-man, Phillip, looked ill. “Does Derek know?”
“No. Not yet. Jerod’s supposed to be picking him up.”
Thomas had to explain how Derek and Brent’s interrogation fantasy hadn’t been a fantasy at all. Derek knew more than they did, and he had been trying to get the security questions and passwords out of Brent on his own. “I’ll tell him we found Nicole, soon as Jerod brings him in.”
“But what’s her condition?” Phillip demanded. “What makes you think they used Janos?”
“Come on, Phillip. She’s got amnesia. The doctors out in Arizona did an MRI, and guess what they found? Localized brain-tissue damage, and they can’t even identify half the chemical compounds on her tox screen. And there’s more. According to Scott, there were three distinct users signing into DriveRate’s servers from Fantasy Heights. They’ve had three people operating here for at least a year. Any one of them could have gotten to Nicole.”
Phillip sat forward, rubbing his eyes and then, suddenly, he was on his feet. He picked up a coffee mug, and side-armed it at the wall.
Amanda reared back, out of the path of hot liquid and flying ceramic.
Thomas never even flinched.
“God damn that woman!” Phillip yelled. “God damn Kay Taylor to
hell
! What the fuck am I supposed to do? What the fuck am I supposed to tell Derek? And how the hell am I supposed to break this to Josh? After everything, I have to tell him his worst nightmare has come true. This will kill him. Kill him.”
“Phillip, calm down,” Thomas told him. “You’re not responsible for this. I’ll inform Derek and Josh. It’s my job.”
“No, this is not your job. It shouldn’t be anybody’s job. Why the
hell
did she have to resurrect Janos?”