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10 Mrs Wild

For lunch, Rain took me to his club, The Royelle , in the heart of wealth and influence, close to the presidential palace. The club was too expensive for most and highly exclusive, by invitation only. I suspected Rain was, in his own way, trying to impress me. It was had not to feel flattered, nor could I suppress a twinge of awe I felt upon entering the establishment.

Dark elegance of finely carved mahogany, mingling with classic luxury of plush red velvet fabrics, and the sophistication of sharply dressed, attentive orderlies. It was definitely not a place which was welcoming to the frivolous or gaudy. There was a deeply masculine atmosphere here, which suited Rain.

In the lounge, leather armchairs were arranged in the way that both invited gentle discourse and allowed solitude and privacy to those who sought it.

‘Mr Wild, welcome back.’ The Herm attendant bowed stiffly. ‘May I take your coat.’

Rain shrugged himself out of it. ‘Thank you, Max. The usual table.’

‘Of course, Sir,’ said the attendant as they replaced the leather coat with a house-supplied suit jacket, which seemed to be perfectly tailored to fit Rain. I suspected he visited here often enough to kept spare clothes in the members’ cloak room.

The opulent lounge was both busy, and yet gave an impression of being sparsely inhabited. The conversations were muted by the wood panelling and plush fabrics, as well as respectful distance between neighbouring loungers.

We followed the attendant to our table. A slight smoke haze hung in the dimply lit room. The waiters were busy serving coffee, spirits and light lunch to the idle members. Most were in quiet solitude, reading newspapers.

‘Two coffees Max, if you will. Sugar and milk for me, the other dark and bitter.’ Rain flashed amused mischief at me.

‘Of course, Sir.’ Max bowed and departed.

‘I take it my file contains all my favourite dishes alongside how I take my coffee.’

‘It does not. I chose to keep such intimate things to myself.’ The way he said ‘intimate’ was a caress to all my most erogenous parts.

Bloody hell, the man could turn something as mundane as drinking coffee into an erotic exercise.

I picked up the menu, a refined collection of dainty sounding platters, most of which I barely understood. There were no prices. I suspected that such a gauche thing as needing to know the price of things was frowned upon in the establishment such as this.

‘I expect this lunch will set me back a week-worth of wages,’ I uttered to myself sardonically.

‘I wouldn’t have brought you here, Rockhall, if I didn’t intent to treat you,’ Rain said lightly without lifting his eyes from the menu. ‘It feels like such a thing is long overdue, wouldn’t you say?’

Having made a selection, I threw the menu down. ‘You owe me nothing, Wild.’

He gave me a dry look over his menu, then casually replaced it on the table. ‘Indeed, I would say you owe me more than I owe you.’ His amused tone left no doubt in my mind as to his meaning.

I had taken pleasure form him, again and again, and so far, I had not returned it. I had never before left my lovers unsatisfied, and this did indeed irk me. Even more so that I actually wanted to turn him mindless with ecstasy, wanted to know what he tasted like, wanted to see his muscles strain in climax. Trouble was, I did not think I could make love to him and emerge the same. He would destroy me. Even now, just being near him made me crave things I had never craved before, things I had ran from. Things that could never be between us.

‘What do you want from me, Wild?’ I asked mildly, if only to finally address the madness spinning out of control between us.

In that moment, the tray with our coffee arrived, sparing him a reply. The Herm waiter placed the dark coffee in front of me, then straightened and put their hands behind their back. ‘And have you decided on your repast, Sirs?’

‘Comte Gougeres for me,’ said Rain, his gaze never leaving me.

‘A ham, cheese and pickle sandwich,’ I said, just to be devilish. That and the fact that I didn’t know what any of the dishes on the menu were. I wanted to push Rain, show him there was a world between us, and not just in terms of gender.

The waiter looked flustered, his gaze darting from me to Rain. ‘Er … I … Pardon, Sir?’

Rain smiled wryly, seeing through my shallow rebellion. ‘A baguette with jammon, emmentaler and capers should be fine, Max.’

When the attendant left, Rain looked steadily at me. ‘I want nothing from you, Ari. I merely want you .’ He looked deadly serious, unashamed to confess what most would fear to voice.

My heart gave a violent thud, and another type of heat flooded me. ‘You can’t have me, Wild,’ I said quietly, intently. ‘I think you merely like the chase. There is a quick solution, of course.’

‘Do tell,’ he said dryly.

‘Spend the night with me, get what you truly want …’

His expression hardened. ‘I’ve already had that, darling. With you. It was not enough.’

I blinked. ‘I think you misunderstand …’

‘You think I want my cock in you, Rockhall. I’ve already had that,’ he said more slowly, as if explaining to the hard of understanding. ‘Five years ago, no long after the masked ball.’

He fell silent as Max returned with a tray holding two cigars, a Cuban which Rain took, and an Espanian for me, then promptly left.

Rain took his cigar, lit it and drew on it. ‘You were so wild then,’ he said with a slightly bitter turn of his lips. ‘So full of rage which you turned into passion. Seeking, always seeking and never finding. I understood. I’ve been there myself. Sought to fill that void of emptiness with the wildness of the night. How many faceless people have you fucked, Ari? How many of them were Gendrians?’

Only two, him at the masked ball and …

‘Where?’ I asked, my voice suddenly gruff as I rolled the cigar in my fingers unlit. My mind was already racing back in time to wild dancing and deafening music, flashing lights and crushing bodies, all reaching, craving, needing …

He blew out the smoke. ‘Gendrian Sexclub, the Rockhard .’

Fuck. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was watching the cigar rolling aimlessly in my fingers.

‘I knew why you went there,’ he said softly. ‘At least I thought I did. Who did you go to find there, Ari?’

I went there because after that bloody masked ball I wanted more. I wanted him again. I went there hoping, needing, seeking him . I knew it was aimless. I never intended to find him there.

‘Who, Ari? Who were you looking for?’ Desperation entered his voice. It wrenched the truth from me.

‘You,’ I mumbled, still staring at my cigar.

‘I wanted the same. I wanted to finish what we started. After the masked ball, I was near frenzied with need. Fucking other Herms did nothing to alleviate what I truly wanted. They were but shadows compared to the sun I craved. I almost blew my cover one day, thinking to bump into you … except I knew you hated Gendrians, and were more likely to shoot me than fuck me. Then I saw you go into the Gendrian Sexclub, not a week after our encounter. I followed you inside.’

Images flashed from the night. Deafening music, the flashing lights, the cram of bodies, Herms and Gendrians, Shay came with me then. That was before Ezra came into their life. I had cocktail after cocktail. I was drunk on music and dance and strangers’ hands roaming over my body. It was hot, it was wild.

‘We danced,’ said Rain.

And I recalled large hands on me, of being yanked roughly back against a large solid chest. I cared not who it was. In those clubs, it never mattered. Demanding yet gentle hands moved down my body, down my front, knowing, confident, entitled.

I knew it was a Gendrian, could smell him, was heady with it. I recalled now the odd sensation of belonging, feeling like his hands belonged on me, of familiarity, of some devilish need to have him deeper in me. I arched and writhed against him, rubbing my arse against his arousal, growing more frantic with my own. And all the while, I was imagining those blue eyes, peering at me from behind the mask. Imagined it was him behind me. Imagined those lips around my cock.

The stranger pulled me hard against his chest, kissed the side of my neck and whispered. ‘Room seventeen.’ He sounded tense, almost angry, or merely wild with need. Then his arms, his chest, his lips were gone, and I felt shockingly alone and exposed whilst surrounded by a crush of ravers.

Blindly, I pushed my way through the crowd.

‘Ari ... your drink.’ Shay stopped in front of me holding two more cocktails.

‘Not now …’ I growled without stopping, shoving my way past them.

The corridor to the long line of sex rooms was at the back of the dance floor. I staggered to the one with the glowing number seventeen. I pushed through the door, mindless with drink and need, uncaring what awaited me in there, the loud music deafening even there.

The room was bathed in a dark red light, too dark to clearly see faces or bodies. It was the place you went to fuck, where nothing else mattered.

He was upon me the instant I came in and locked the door behind me. I did not want to turn around, did not want to look at him, because if I did, I’d see that he did not have blue eyes. The bubble of my fantasy would burst and I would leave. I wanted that fantasy, needed it, needed to be with him one more time.

He did not kiss me, merely pushed me against the wall, fiercely, yet not roughly. The hard beat of club music filled my ears, swallowing my moans even from me as he kissed my neck. His rugged breath, however, did reach my ears. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, his voice strained, deep and rumbling.

‘Anything …’

He bit my neck, just hard enough for sensuous pain. ‘I want to hear you say it. What do you want me to do to you?’

His erection was pressing against my arse. The shock of its size at once made me breathless and drove me wild. ‘I want your Gendrian cock inside me.’

He growled as if in immense relief and anticipation, before yanking down my trousers, inserting a finger in my quim to test for readiness and growling in approval. ‘I want you so fucking badly,’ he rasped as he positioned the tip of his cock at my entrance. ‘I want you more than I want life,’ he said as he pushed inside me. ‘I want you inside my soul, and me to be inside yours.’

I moaned, threw my head back, and his hand came around to gently cradle my throat, threatening yet safe, always safe. ‘I want you to be mine, and no one else’s.’ His words were nonsense, and yet somehow with a very tender and brief squeeze of my neck, he gave them an unequivocal truth. I knew it was mere madness, delirium of passion like my own, for in that moment I almost said yes. I almost gave my soul to him.

He pushed his hips forward deeper into me. He felt monstrously large and wide, and I gasped as if this was the very first time I had taken a cock into me. His breathing was hard, ragged, his muscles tense as the tightness of my passage engulfed him. Slowly, he pushed deeper, harder, stretching me, filling me.

I moaned deliriously, whispered incomprehensible curses, words of awe and confusion.

He pushed further, until I felt him everywhere inside me, until I felt as if my insides would tear under his invasion, until I almost came from just the feel of him.

He stilled, his head resting on my shoulder. ‘Fuck, you feel so good,’ he whispered deliriously. ‘Even better than I imagined.’

I couldn’t see his face, and somehow this made it even more erotic, more twisted, more perverse. It was everything I wanted. For in my mind, I only saw blue eyes behind the mask, the lips, the shadowy form of the one who caught my eye that other night.

‘Hard …’ I uttered. ‘I want you to fuck me hard.’

He thrust, hard. Nearly violently, ripping a fierce groan from me of blinding pleasure coloured with a tinge of erotic pain. I felt like a bloody virgin all over again.

‘Again,’ I uttered, and he thrust into me, withdrew and thrust again. Then everything seemed to fade away, save for him pummelling into me, my moans and gasps and senseless demands. Words came from my mouth that made no sense or left any impression on my memory. He was groaning with each violent thrust, and spoke into my ear, my neck, words that drifted from the blinding darkness of need and frenzy. Words that imprinted themselves onto my soul like poison and like benediction both.

I love the smell of you.

Thrust.

I love the taste of you

His lips tasted my neck, his tongue darted out to lick me.

I need to breathe the air you exhale.

Thrust.

You are my soul, my heart …

His hands caressed my body.

Nonsense words, mindless, stupid and empty.

Blue eyes were gazing on me in the darkness of my mind.

You are my madness and destruction .

Thrust.

I need you. I crave you.

He bit my neck again, a claiming, a possession, a demand …

Make me yours. Fuck … make me yours, Ari.

He threw his head back. ‘You are so fucking beautiful,’ he growled as he pounded into me. ‘So, fucking hot.’

Then he roared as I felt his cock pump his seed into me, and that tipped me over the edge. I cried out, arched, grasped his head behind me, then slowly, grew weak, and shaky at the knees.

We stood there like that for timeless moments, savouring the last of the sensation of being joined. He planted both palms either side of my face on the wall, yet his hips were firmly pressed forward pushing against my arse. His breathing was still ragged. Then he drew his now semi-erect cock from inside me, slowly, reluctantly. And instantly I felt bereft, felt cold and empty.

He ran his hand into my hair, gently pushing me against the wall, as if angry with me, as if he wanted to punish me, to fuck me some more. His face appeared at my cheek. He softly kissed it, his lips lingering, whilst he inhaled and there was a terrible sadness and longing in that kiss.

I wanted to rip away from it for it was crushing my chest inside. Confusion ripped through me, made me weak and frightened. This was not a place for tenderness, for longing. The revelry beyond the room was a jarring contrast to the softness of his hands holding me still, his lips lingering on me.

At once, I wanted to turn my head and meet his lips with my own, and I wanted to deny such intimacy by pushing him away. So, I stood frozen, hovering precariously between the two.

‘Do you want to see me again?’ he rasped close to my ear. ‘Do you want to feel me again?’

I knew if I turned around, the illusion, the sensation, the erotic headiness of the moment would be gone. Knew also, that if I looked him in the eyes and knew his face, I would see a Gendrian, rather than a shadowy form of one I came to this club to find, a fantasy I needed to indulge. If I turned around, I knew I would come to regret everything that had just transpired. If I did not look, I could forever pretend that this was the same man as the one behind the mask. So, I leant my forehead against the wall, closed my eyes and replied harshly, hoarsely, ‘No. Leave.’

And without a word, he did.

Make me yours, Ari.

It was then that I remembered he had used my name, and it shook me. How did he know my name …? Shay must have said it and he had heard them.

For long moments, for long hours and even next day I could still feel him inside me. And when he finally faded away, my body missed him, craved him, sought him though I made no move to look for him.

Make me yours.

And I never saw him again. Until now.

My chest squeezed, my gut tightened, and in that moment, I felt something fragile snap inside me. Something beautiful and cruel and utterly destructive to my soul. In that moment, I knew a devil lived inside me and had claimed me long before Rain could.

‘Five years ago, we fucked, Rockhall,’ he said as he crushed the stub of his cigar into the ashtray, blowing out the last of the smoke. ‘It was not enough. Five years ago, I asked you for more.’

‘And soon after our marriage fell apart,’ said a feminine voice behind us.

Rain turned and looked up.

I kept staring numbly at the cigar in my fingers.

The shape of a woman came into view, but I didn’t look up. Didn’t need to. I knew who it was, recalled the woman outside the bank who was looking at me in the way one looks at those who had wronged them deeply.

Rain sat back and put his arm on the back of the chair. ‘Our marriage was falling apart long before that, darling. In fact, it was falling apart before it even began.’

‘Perhaps you never gave it a chance,’ she replied saucily. ‘But then, I was never enough for you.’ Again, she cast a brief, bitter gaze at me.

Rain remained pointedly silence.

‘Serpent, I take it,’ I said and finally met her gaze. She was a beautiful woman, tall, all curves, rich auburn hair, green eyes and lush, wide lips. She was everything feminine and sultry, a perfect half for Rain.

‘Mrs Wild if you please. I decided to keep his name,’ she said bitingly. ‘And you must be his dark obsession. Robin Rockhall’s wild kid.’

My mind was still reeling from the memories Rain drew out, with the realisation that those blue eyes were mine to possess. Yet those eyes were now trained on another. The flash of jealousy was jarring. I hated the fact that the woman was striking and harshly feminine, and everything that Rain had once wanted.

‘Or you can call her Sarah like everyone else on our team,’ said Rain.

‘So, your protégé decided to join our team,’ she said casting me a sly glance, filled with that unique ferment of bitterness old lovers develop after being scorned for another.

I stared back at her levelly. ‘How about you drop the jealous shrew act. Your ex fucked me and I fucking loved it. So much so, I’m thinking of doing it again before the day is over. So spare me the boredom of your domestic spat.’ Casually, I lit the cigar I was holding, and let out a puff of smoke.

Rain’s eyes lit up in amusement and anticipation as his head swivelled to me.

‘Oh, my, the whelp has claws,’ the serpent mocked with a forced laugh.

I released another breath of smoke, unfazed by the cattiness. I have seen the likes of it many a time before. ‘Darling, call me a whelp again, and you will see just how sharp my claws are.’ My voice was low, calm and rich with the threat of violence. ‘I expect you’ve read my rather colourful profile which Rain’s been telling me about. If not, I would recommend you take time to do so.’ I kept looking at her, measuring her, and there came that point where I saw her struggle to hold my gaze, the gaze through which the devil peered at her. The gaze only Rain had ever been able to hold and bask in.

A quick flash of uncertainty, and she turned away again to glare at Rain, more bitter than belligerent.

His face was serious, official now. ‘You have something to report, Sarah? If not, get back to your post.’

‘Jamie Carlson made an appearance at the bank. They spoke with the clerk by the name of Gene Shale, then left shortly after in a fit of temper. Not an hour ago, we found the same clerk dead. Strangled with their own tie in their office. Happened after Carlson was seen leaving, so we know it’s not them who had killed the poor bastard.’

It was not a surprise that the CEO owner of Secureforce was in league with Fanigan. What was interesting, was that Carlson risked going to the same bank the same day as Grant had been there. A sloppy, and desperate mistake.

‘Sounds like Carlson may be the source of funds Grant was receiving,’ I said. ‘And it also sounds like the CEO is as broke as rumour suggests. Without the funds, they can’t pay GLF.’

The Serpent turned back to me. ‘This is the time when you enlighten us as to whom Grant raced off to meet, seeing as we found his dead body in an abandoned warehouse.’

I puffed on my cigar. ‘Couldn’t tell you. Could be someone from Secureforce, or perhaps someone from GLF wanting to be paid.’

Again., Rain regarded me speculatively, his gaze probing.

‘So far, I’m not impressed,’ said the Serpent. ‘And to think, we all had such high hopes for you.’ Her tone implied the opposite.

I shrugged. ‘Seeing as Carlson is clearly too broke to fund this rather expensive venture, I suspect you need to worry less about the moles and puppets in Secureforce and try and follow the trail of blood back to your own agency and the Office of National Security, where I believe the funds originate.’

‘Do you have proof of that?’ asked the Serpent.

‘No,’ I replied impassively. ‘I guess I could go ahead and do your job for you and get it myself from the top floor of your not-so-secret office building.’

The Serpent glared at me. ‘Just try not to mess up your own little part in this case detective.’

‘If that’s all …’ Rain began.

She turned back to him. ‘There is more. Soon after Carlson stormed out from the bank, Kyle Snow’s secretary booked two tickets in a private box to the opera tonight. I suspect the loss of money is a problem for them. GLF will want their payment soon.’

‘Have you bugged the private box?’ asked Rain.

‘Tick is working on it now,’ she replied.

‘I want two tickets to the adjacent box.’

‘I will drop them off with you later today.’

‘Leave them in the post-box for me. And make sure you trail Carlson everywhere, even when they go for a piss.’

‘We are on it. I will, of course, accompany you to the opera …’

That should not have hit me between the ribs. I had no right to claim him. Deep inside, however, I felt like I already had.

Make me yours.

‘Rockhall will accompany me,’ he said.

‘Rain …’

‘If there is nothing else, you are dismissed, agent,’ he interrupted her coolly.

Just then, our lunch was brought out, and in the tense silence the woman gave me a darting, vicious glance and departed. Rain looked tense, his jaw tight.

When the waiter left I put out my cigar and reached for my sandwich. ‘I’m starved,’ I said lightly.

Rain seemed to instantly relax, and his smile was like a slow, shy bloom. ‘So, you are planning on fucking me before the day is out?’

‘Keep your cock in your pants, Wild. I was only making a point to your rather jealous ex-wife.’

‘If you say so, Rockhall.’ He bit into his … whatever it was called … a fluffy pastry. ‘You will be accompanying me to the opera today as my date. Dress accordingly.’

‘I think your ex wanted to play that part.’

‘And I want you to play that part,’ he replied seemingly nonchalantly, yet there was a wealth of meaning there.

My rather fancy sandwich hovered half way to my mouth. ‘Rain, I am not your forever, you understand that, don’t you?’

He gave no reaction, reaching instead to take another puff roll from his plate. ‘Come to my apartment at six, and I will brief you on our plan.’ He fished out a card from his suit pocket and handed it to me. ‘This is the address.’

I took the card and almost whistled. If he was trying to impress me, he had succeeded. His apartment was on Royal Row, the most exclusive residence for the wealthiest of the city, with their own gated security.

‘If this is what being the head of the Special Operatives First Division gets you, I need to give you fair warning, that I will be taking your job off you, likely before the week is out.’

‘Are you always so sure of yourself, detective?’ He gave me an indulgent, amused smile. And something brittle inside me cracked to let in the poisonous trickle of shame and guilt, and deep regret for the betrayal that would rip us apart.

I smiled back, hollowly. He did not believe me, as I intended him not to. I was the best damned detective this city had ever seen. Call it a gift, or some quirk of fate that gave me both the memory and the sharply analytical mind that saw clear paths to bringing down crooks, no matter how low or how high. I never failed to bring anyone down I went after, and this time I was going after the highest crook in the city, Kyle Snow, the head of national security, and advisor to the president. I knew what I had to do, knew the game I had to play to do it, and knew as well that before the week was over, I’d either be either dead or Head of First Division.