Missing Read online

  It took all I could do to maintain my cover then. I couldn’t carry a weapon. The ‘cellphone’ was my only backup--besides Jerico.

  Calming myself with an effort, I reminded myself that we were undoubtedly being watched. Jerico would explain the situation later. All I had to do was to play along, keep cool, maintain my cover and everything would work out just fine.

  My heart slammed into my ribs at that thought and tried to beat its way up my throat. I swallowed with difficulty, trying to dislodge it and force it back into its proper place when he calmly reached for my thong and pulled it down my legs. I was so unsteady by the time he reached my ankles it took a moment to lock one knee and lift my other leg. When he’d tossed the thong aside, he curled the fingers of each hand around my ankles and slowly slid his hands upward. I stared down at him as he rose, trying to ignore the way his hands felt as they glided up my legs, trying not to think about the way my belly was shimmying and the warm wetness that gathered in my nether regions.

  My belly went weightless as he passed my knees and continued upward until his thumbs brushed my nether lips. They lingered there for two painful heartbeats and then he slipped his hands over my pelvic bones and around behind me to cup my buttocks, his fingers curled teasingly along the edges of my cleft--touching just enough sensitive flesh to make it impossible for me to get my mind around anything else.

  “You please me,” he murmured, his face mere inches from mine so that the warmth of his breath wafted across my face, sending a dizzying rush of pleasure through me. “What can I do to please you?”

  I felt my jaw go slack with surprise. My mind had gone mushy, however, and disjointed, like a motherboard that had overloaded, and only sporadic bursts of random data registered. Nothing I could actually grab onto.

  Lifting a hand, he traced his thumb lightly back and forth across my lower lip, studying me speculatively. “We will discover it together,” he murmured finally. Lifting his hand, he cupped it over my eyes and brushed downward. Blackness followed.

  I was totally disoriented when I became aware of my surroundings again. There was no drifting upward, no cobwebs of drugs or sleep. It was more like a switch coming on.

  The confusing part was that I couldn’t see a damned thing and I had the most peculiar sense of weightlessness. That scared me worse than the blindfold, which I’d almost instantly identified. Before total panic could set in with the fear that I’d somehow lost all feeling from the neck down, I felt something touch my foot.

  I frowned, trying to identify the inquisitive touch--not a finger, certainly. It was neither warm nor blunt like a digit. It wasn’t hard either. On the other hand, it didn’t feel as softly yielding as cloth.

  As it wandered almost idly along the sole of my left foot, I came to think it must be something like a feather. The light touch tickled the sensitive flesh on the soles of my feet, not in a way that made me feel even a vague urge to giggle, but in the sense that it produced little electric bursts of sensation I wasn’t altogether certain I liked.

  “You’ve only to say ‘stop’ and I will stop,” he whispered, close to my ear.

  I recognized his voice--Jerico.

  What the hell did he think he was doing? I mean, there was playing along and then there was going way over the top.

  I cleared my throat with an effort as I felt the stroke of the feather begin again after a significant pause. This time, it traced a pattern across my lower belly that sucked the breath right out of my lungs.

  I was still trying to catch my breath when I made a new discovery.

  Despite the fact that I couldn’t actually feel anything that could be preventing me from moving, I couldn’t move. I would have thought it was paralysis except that I was having no trouble at all feeling that damned feather--or whatever it was, because it was driving me crazy, sending little jolts of electricity through me every time he discovered a new batch of exposed nerve endings.

  Just as I was about to scream at him to stop, I felt his hands pushing my thighs wide. Cool air wafted against my warm genitals. Blood rushed into the flesh there, making it more sensitive. Blood gushed into my nipples, too, making them stand erect.

  The feather--I decided it had to be a feather--teased me, tracing narrowing circles around the place that was throbbing for attention by now. I became so focused on the movement all other thought fled as I held my breath, waiting--in vain. Instead, he teased me with the damned feather until I was tense from head to toe, dying for him to touch me in just the right spot, and then he began to trace my sensitive inner thighs.

  He’d get back to the spot, I assured myself. He wouldn’t just tease me like that and go away.

  He moved back to my belly. I let out a whimper of protest before I even realized it was there, then bit my lip.

  Ignoring my objection, he continued up by belly, down my arms, over my back and buttocks and along my neck, finding every supersensitive spot on my entire body, places I hadn’t even known about myself.

  He stopped when I was a mindless massive of tingling, sparking nerves.

  I waited, hopeful. I hadn’t said stop. As crazy as it was making me I didn’t want him to. When nothing happened for so long that I began to feel the jolting nerves begin to settle, I turned my head, trying to see if I could see him beneath the edge of the blindfold. I couldn’t. I licked my dry lips. “Why the blindfold?”

  “So you can focus on what you feel.”

  I wasn’t sure I needed more focus. I’d begun to feel like I might come just from being stroked, a genuinely unique situation for me. All I really wanted him to do was finish me off. It was all I could think about for a time--that and the fact that I could feel the opportunity slowly slipping away from me.

  As it did, I tried to put my legs together. That was when I made a brand new discovery. I couldn’t. Before I could get either alarmed or indignant about the situation I felt something readily identifiable--his tongue. It was in the wrong damned place though. My pussy instantly began to clamor for attention. Instead, he started at my feet again.

  I was definitely not a foot person. My feet were too sensitive. My belly clenched. I think everything on and inside of me clenched all at the same time, almost painfully. Dizziness washed over me while I tried to cope with the intensity of the sensations as he slowly and very deliberately explored every tender inch of skin with his tongue and the edge of his teeth. I would’ve been clawing at something if I’d been able to reach anything besides air. Finally, I merely squeezed my eyes tightly shut and balled my hands into tight fists.

  It didn’t occur to me once to yell stop.

  I think that was because, in the back of my mind, I just knew he would go for the gold next. Men were typically not creatures of finesse. They knew what a woman really wanted and they planted their face right in the middle of it right off, just to get ‘hers’ out of the way so they could concentrate on their own goody.

  Within five seconds I began to have a nagging suspicion that this guy had missed Man101. He started with the left foot, gnawed his way all the way up that leg, skipped the best part and moved down the other. I was in a fever by the time he began to torture my right foot.

  I gritted my teeth. I could take this. I was going to take it, because I needed his tongue on my clit and I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to stop until he’d given me what I wanted. Relief flooded me when he finally ceased to suck my toes and gnaw along the sensitive sole of my foot. I’d been so tense, I could feel tiny beads of moisture popping from every pore. My pussy was almost embarrassingly wet. I tried not to think about whether or not it was noticeable, then decided I hoped it was and that it would entice him.

  Because he’d stopped again, damn him!

  The next touch I felt was on my buttocks. I clenched them, trying to evade that touch but there was no escaping it. By the time he began to weave his way up my back I was nearly mindless but also confused. How could he reach me everywhere? Was I hanging? And if so, why didn’t I feel the strain?
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  I forgot all about that when I felt his tongue tracing a teasing pattern around my breasts. My nipples were so sensitive I’d come before just from having my breasts fondled and I was so ripe by now I knew I could if he was even half as good at sucking as he was at licking. I held my breath so long, waiting, till I was on the verge of passing out, or erupting into the behavior of a woman possessed by a demon, speaking in tongues and screaming ‘Fuck me! Fuck me!’

  The deceitful, low down snake skipped my nipples just as he had my clit and pulled away again.

  I fumed, too pissed off to even find words to express my outrage.

  The ice on my heated skin sent a painful jolt through me. I gasped, wavering toward unconsciousness as he slowly drew the chilling fragment over every intensely heated part of my body, making it clench in a whole new way. By the time he’d stopped, I couldn’t even catch my breath, let alone scream.

  I wasn’t altogether certain when he stopped. I was too busy trying to drag a decent breath into my laboring lungs, struggling against the darkness that kept threatening to overwhelm me. The heat of his mouth on the chilled skin of my inner thigh was like fire. I jerked, thinking at first that it was. “No,” I managed to gasp out, forgetting the safe word altogether and wracking my brain frantically for it when he not only didn’t stop, but nibbled a teasing path upward toward my pussy.

  I’d just managed to wrap my mind around the word I needed when his mouth closed over my clit. Mindless pleasure went through me, instantly banishing all rational thought. I bit my lip but groaned anyway as his tongue danced along my clit. Yes! I thought, feeling my body respond instantly, shooting skyward at dizzying velocity. I felt myself hanging on the very verge of explosive release when he ceased to suck and fondle my clit and began to explore my cleft, pressing his tongue into the opening of my passage.

  I felt like screaming with disappointment. No! Not there, up, higher!

  Finally, he moved to my clit again, but I’d fallen. Fighting the frustration that was destroying my focus, I concentrated on the wonderful feel of his tongue and mouth. My body responded again, the tension coiling inside of me, lifting me toward what I needed.

  When he stopped just shy of taking me there I was too stunned for several moments to actually grasp that he’d stopped. Slowly it filtered through the magma my mind had been that he had, once again, left me hanging.

  Anger surged through me, but I was way beyond self defense by this time. All I could think about was gnawing free of whatever device held me and raping him if I had to. That thought cooled my anger. I was going to die if he left me like this. I had to have relief.

  He couldn’t intend to tease me and leave me hanging. I knew he couldn’t be that cruel.

  But he had no intention of allowing me to breeze through either. I was going to have to enjoy as much as I could stand before he gave me what I needed.

  He proved that theory true when he touched the ice to me.

  That time I did faint, but I wasn’t out nearly long enough.

  I wished to hell he’d taken off the damned corset so I could drag a decent breath of air into my lungs.

  I wished it harder when he began to tease me again, this time starting with my breasts. I tried to focus my mind elsewhere. The sensations were maddeningly wonderful, but I couldn’t be satisfied with a ‘dry’ release by now. I had to have cock--or tongue--finger would do if he had his mouth on my clit. I wasn’t that choosy. But the kind of lightweight climax I usually got from having my nipples fondled just wasn’t going to satisfy me.

  I almost came anyway. It was almost as if he knew exactly how far to push, exactly where my breaking point was.

  I don’t know when I began to moan incessantly, like someone dying from fever, but my mouth and throat grew so dry from gasping that I could hardly gather moisture to swallow.

  The moisture was all down at the other end.

  “No more,” I managed to moan at some point, long past the point of being able to remember anything as simple as ‘stop’.

  Apparently it was the key words for something, however. He lifted his head from my pussy. I felt as if he was studying me, but I’d just decided he was only waiting, as he had before, to start again.

  I was wrong. He dipped his head again. His heated mouth covered my clit and he sucked and nibbled it until my body almost seemed to explode with keen rapture. I screamed as it hit me. Before the aftershocks had even begun to dissipate, he lifted his head again, pulling me toward him. I felt the head of his cock as he probed me. It felt huge, but my body was clenched so hard in spasms of ecstasy, he would’ve had a hell of time shoving his index finger into me.

  He struggled, gripping my hips tightly and driving forward. I gasped, tried to relax my spasming muscles to allow him to claim me. The scrape of his cock along my passage only set off more convulsions, though, and he was damp with perspiration by the time he drove deeply inside of me. I was damp with everything, but all I could think of was wrapping myself so tightly around him I became a part of him. I couldn’t. My arms and legs were still bound. I could only allow him to move as he pleased.

  It pleased him to pound into me like a piston engine. It pleased me too. I’d hardly touched down when my body responded to his fierce possession by coiling for another release. My second followed so closely upon the heels of his that it was almost like I’d experienced both my culmination and his and it was so divine it pitched me beyond the known world.

  Chapter Two

  I stared at the furnishings of my apartment bedroom for a good five minutes before it sank in that I wasn’t dreaming. Frowning, trying to shrug off the mind dulling remnants of sleep, I pushed myself up and looked around me. Morning light streamed in around the room darkening shades at my windows.

  I looked at the clock. Ten. My mind struggled with that number for several moments before it clicked together with the light. A.M. There was too much light for P.M.

  Good thing I was a detective, I thought wryly. Now, what day?

  “Shit!” I exclaimed as it sank in on me that it was a work day. “Two fucking hours late. Jeff is going to kill me. Then he’s going to fire me.”

  My feet hit the floor before anything else could sink in--like the twinges from muscles recently used that hadn’t been in a while. My inner thighs felt like someone had grabbed each of my ankles and yelled ‘make a wish’. I plopped back down on the edge of the bed, massaging my aching groin area. It responded by hurting worse.

  This was as real as it got.

  So if I hadn’t had the mother of all wet dreams, how the hell did I get home?

  I struggled with that for a few minutes but to save my life I couldn’t remember anything after the fade out of the dream –which couldn’t have been a dream at all unless I’d been up doing splits in my sleep.

  Date drug? That didn’t seem quite right, not unless this was a brand new high. I wasn’t having any trouble remembering what had happened before I woke up and I didn’t feel like I had a drug hangover, just the typical ‘up half the night and half as much sleep as I needed’ sort of grogginess.

  Shaking my uneasiness, I pushed off the bed and scrambled to get ready for work. As tempting as it was to just make up a believable lie and call in sick, I couldn’t afford to, especially when my job might be hanging in the balance. On my salary, I could barely get by with two jobs and I had no desire to experience what the life of a bag lady was like.

  “Hey, who’s that woman?” Marvin quipped when I dashed in the door at work.

  I sent him a drop dead look. “You’re so funny, Marv.”

  “Jeffie’s pissed.”

  “When is he not?” I muttered, hunching over and heading for my desk.

  My ass hadn’t even touched down with his door swung open. “MY office. NOW!”

  Fuck! I slunk into his office, trying to look contrite.

  “Shut the door.”

  “If you’re going to yell, I might as well leave it open,” I muttered.

  He was glaring
at me when I turned around. “You got any idea what fucking time it is, Cavanaugh?”

  I decided I’d better be meek. He didn’t look like he was in the mood for wisecracks. “Uh … actually my clock broke last night,” I hedged. It wasn’t exactly a lie, I reasoned. The fucking alarm hadn’t gone off even if the clock did seem to be still working. Of course that might have been because I didn’t set it since I didn’t remember getting home, or getting into bed. Fortunately for me, I hadn’t had the chance to have hysterics over the lost time yet.

  “That is your excuse for coming in three hours late?”

  I shrugged. “I did a gig last night, worked late. My alarm didn’t go off.”

  “Well, you better really like that other job, Cavanaugh, because if you come in late again ….”

  “I’ll pick up a new clock at lunch.”

  “You expect to take lunch when you just got here?” he demanded as if I’d asked him to let me fuck him in the ass.

  “How else am I supposed to get a clock?” I demanded irritably.

  He looked a little taken aback when I growled back at him, but to my surprise and amazement, he let it go. “Get to work. You need to process those reports before you take lunch.”

  There was a stack nearly two feet high teetering on top of what was supposed to be my ‘in’ box. Gritting my teeth, I set to work. It was hard to focus. My mind, which could never leave a problem alone, kept going back to the personal one of ‘how the hell did I get from the club to my house?’. When it wasn’t toying with that unnerving question, it was reliving the moment. I had to tamp that tendency. Everything on my body throbbed every time some fragment of memory from the night before popped into my head and I was afraid somebody was going to notice if I kept squirming in my seat.

  I skipped lunch. No way was I going to get through all of the damned reports if I took off for an hour. Mid-way through the afternoon, I noticed Jeff hanging over my desk like a buzzard waiting for its victim to stop squirming. I looked up at him blankly. “My office.”