“Yes, exactly. These fucking asshole monsters, monsters is what they are, had me holed up in this warehouse for a whole fucking year knowing I knew chemistry and could cook meth for them. I didn’t see a fucking ray of sun for a whole year, all because this asshole Lieutenant Commander was selling stem cell research to some Mexicans—that’s how it started!”
I stroked her hair soothingly. I sincerely didn’t want her to relive what was obviously a traumatic time in her life, but I was curious to know. If she truly had done something horrific, killed some children or something, I should probably rethink my approach, and just finish her off. “So what went wrong?”
Now she relaxed, melting into my arms. Her little tits were plastered to my obliques, and her syrupy drawl became more languid, more drawn out. Her eyes were half-lidded, as though a tranquilizer had suddenly kicked in. “Through the scientists in Mexico City, he was introduced to these cartel guys because he wanted drugs. He wanted to sell drugs, but mostly Russ wanted to take drugs. He took so much he couldn’t account for it, and that’s when he told them to take me.”
“Did you ever sell any drugs?”
Her eyes popped open, but with an effort. “Good gracious, Ignatius, no! I’ve never snorted a single line of anything! Doesn’t agree with me. Russ told them I knew all about making meth, which was bullshit, but I learned. I’m a quick learner.”
I believed her. I speared my fingers through her satiny hair, scratching her behind the ears like a cat. “Now I want to believe you didn’t have anything to do with selling stem cell research to Mexicans.”
There was that slight pause, the shift of the eyes away from my face. “I had something to do with creating the research. That was my project.” Now she was able to look at me again. “But Russ’ deal, that was his and his alone. He told me what he was doing and I guess I could’ve done more to stop him. But I was in love…”
I cradled her skull in my palm. I believed her. I’d done some moronic things in the name of love, myself. It was love that had gotten me exiled from New Mexico. Idiotic, blind, foolish, irrational love. I kissed Pippa.
I parted my lips over hers and sucked. Instantly she flung her arms around my neck. She was so short she needed to thread her fingers together and practically swing from me like a little monkey. Lust surged through my groin with how artlessly adorable she was from head to toe.
I kissed her as if it would erase all my past mistakes in love. Lola’s existence would be wiped off the face of the planet if I just replaced her with Pippa. Sliding my hands around her ass, I easily lifted her, precariously setting her on the Ikea desk. She wobbled, grabbing the edge as though she didn’t trust the flimsy desk either. I was lapping at the bottom of her tongue, feeling virile, potent, filled to the brim with testosterone. Her fragile womanliness made me whole. I slipped four fingertips inside her damp panties, swiping them against her swollen clit.
She gasped in my mouth. She grabbed a little handful of my hair to pull me away from her. Her eyes were round with surprise, as though no one had ever diddled her button before. But all she said was, “Is your hair really red?”
I swiped my fingertips across her clit faster, faster. Her eyes slid shut again but I still answered her. I leaned over and spoke against her exposed throat. “Yes. I tried dying it brown at first, but it became a hassle.” I took a big biting suck from her velvety flesh. “Carrying around hair color when you’re on a job isn’t practical.”
She tried to laugh, but she was too busy concentrating on coming. I could tell by the way her eyeballs moved back and forth under her eyelids, like a person during REM sleep. I swished my fingers like I was tinkling little bells, like a grand pianist building up to a massive, gorgeous crescendo.
I leaned over her, detached, avidly watching this fascinating buildup. Her chest flushed as a tidal wave of hormones swept over her. Her mouth started making shapes as if she was uttering indistinct curses. Her cunt was so wet I felt juice drip down my fingers.
I didn’t want to stop to grab the Ben Wa balls from my pocket.
CHAPTER TEN
PIPPA
I felt like Rapunzel finally let out of her boring, poisonous tower.
I was letting my hair down, I was rolling in the mud with the pigs! It was a gloriously freeing feeling, wrapping my thighs around Fox’s muscular ones, parting my legs, allowing a man to pleasure me for the first time in…well, years. Russ had never bothered making me come. I wasn’t sure he even knew where a clitoris was.
Fox nailed it right on the head, his slippery fingers playing a smooth glissando against my hypersensitive core. I wasn’t even embarrassed that I was obviously, plainly slippery enough that he didn’t need any lube. And just the idea that he was interested in me enough to make me come, that helped lift me to the heights of delight.