Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 (14 page)

“Oh no you don’t,” Dan growled,
grabbing me by the armpits and dragging me to my feet. “That pussy
is mine to make come.”

I missed the feel of him in my mouth,
but having him in other places suited me just fine too. “Yes, Sir.
Sorry, Sir.”

“Up on the table. Elbows and
knees.”

I was on a nearby reading table faster
than you could say doggie-style, knees splayed wide, and my rear
waving in the air. A very vulnerable position, as you might well
imagine.

Without one bit of warning, Dan shoved
three fingers into my pussy. My breath caught at the abrupt
impaling, but I wasn’t complaining. His working in and out of me
felt so good that my insides bubbled effervescently right off the
bat. I warbled happiness and moved back to greet the next
thrust.

“That’s it, baby girl. Swallow those
fingers,” Dan breathed.

I rocked back and forth, knowing he was
watching my pussy take them in, knowing he was loving the sight of
my eager flesh that was his to command. His other hand cupped my
hairless mound to rub in slow circles, the heel of his palm
occasionally

brushing my clit. Chills sparkled down
my spine even as my core went molten lava. And when the fingers
inside me curled to press that sweet spot inside me, my toes curled
too, and my hair rose on end.

“Sir.” I groaned all the way from my
gut.

“I know, baby. Feels good. Keep working
those fingers, Brandilynn.”

I did as I was told, sliding back and
forth, helping him torment me with pleasure. My insides were
beginning to coil, wrapping tight in on themselves. Soon I would be
begging him to let me come, and he’d probably refuse me the
privilege until I was screaming for it. When it came to refusing me
climax, Dan could be as much of an absolute sadist as
Tristan.

In and out those amazing fingers
plunged, hitting the magic spot more often than not. I was panting
now, offering little cries when his palm made contact with my clit
and sent sensation sizzling through my womb. My entire body
trembled as he pushed me harder, faster. Lightning flashes of
enthrallment bolted through me, crowding me at the edge of the
precipice. Heat blazed, threatening to ignite into a full
conflagration.

“Please Sir, may I come?” I
gasped.

“No, Brandilynn. You may
not.”

The hand massaging my mound lifted for
an instant to deal a light, stinging slap to my clit. I offered a
little scream as a rolling pulse filled my nether parts for an
instant, nearly taking me away despite my master’s command against
it. Agonized tears slipped from my eyes as I fought for
control.

“Did you just come,
Brandilynn?’

“No, Sir. Please, Sir, I really need
to,” I sobbed.

“Keep that pussy working those fingers,
girl. Harder. Faster.”

I gasped and rocked even as he drove
into me, rubbing my mound again. I was in a delicious hell. God, I
needed to come.

“Please, please, Sir.
Please.”

He slapped my clit again, and once more
I nearly lost it. I pressed my forehead against the hard wood of
the table and begged myself, hold on, hold on, hold on. My hips
continued to drum backward onto the battering ram of his cruel
fingers.

“Whose body is this, baby
girl?”

“Yours, Sir. Please?”

Another sharp slap to the distended
nub. My clit had decided these little darts of pain were the
world’s greatest aphrodisiac. I felt it strain for the next blow,
desperate to undermine my efforts to please my master.

“Who decides when you should come,
Brandilynn?”

“You, Sir,” I ground out between
clenched teeth.

Slap. My pussy flexed in response. His
calloused hand went back to rubbing circles against my mound. I
hung on grimly.

“Please, Sir. Please, I’ll do whatever
you want—”

Slap. Circle. Fingers plunging in and
out faster still. “You’ll do whatever I want whether I allow you to
come or not.”

Heaven help me, I was sweating in my
aroused misery. I couldn’t think about that. I could sense the
yawning abyss beneath me, ready to engulf me the second I gave the
slightest bit.

Slap. Circle. Plunging. “Say my master
commands me.”

“Oh, Sir. My master commands me.
Please.”

Slap. Circle, Plunging. “Say it
again.”

“My master commands me! Please, I’m
begging you, Sir!”

Slap. Circle. Plunging. “Say it
again.”

“MY MASTER COMMANDS ME!”

The torturing hands and fingers
disappeared. “On your back, baby girl.”

I collapsed and flailed over to obey
him, my lower parts burning and aching in desperation. Dan grabbed
my calves and hauled me towards him so my butt lay on the edge of
the table. Without so much as a how-do-you-do he stabbed his cock
into me, shouting, “Come now!”

I shrieked fit to split the heavens as
his brutal plunge tore a hole in the wall between control and
surrender. My legs kicked wildly in the air and I tore at his shirt
as the too-long dammed exultation poured free of me. He beat hard
against me, widening the breach until all barriers were destroyed,
and I drowned in the deluge of bliss.

I couldn’t tell you when Dan joined me
with his own climax. I was too far gone. All I know is that when I
returned, he was bent over me, his torso heavy on mine, his cock
still twitching within the confines of my body.

As we lay there, quietly picking up the
shreds of sanity and tying them back together, I once more felt
despair that I had wronged this wondrous man who took me to the
glorious jagged edge of self control. And then I had a startling
epiphany.

Had I cheated not just to save Bane,
but also because I was so afraid of commitment, even to two
men?

I hated being so screwed up that I hurt
everyone around me.

Chapter 7

Dan and I threw our assignments to the
wind that night. We concentrated on each other, snuggling, making
love, and reconnecting as best we could. My infidelity was still a
barrier between us, one that I realized only time would erode. If I
cried one tear that night, I cried an ocean. So did Dan.

We knew day had come when Tristan’s
voice roused us from our mutual loving misery. “I’m glad to see you
two have made up,” he said, sounding quite the opposite.

With one last kiss, we rose and draped
clothes on our bodies. Dan was in his usual pressed khakis and
button-down white shirt. Instead of my typical fun, flirty style of
dress, I chose a dark gray linen suit. I was in a somber frame of
mind.

Looking at Dan with sadness, I
answered, “I guess we sort of have.”

He nodded, taking my hand with a gentle
smile. I wondered at his need to comfort me when I’d been the one
who dealt the pain. God love that man; he really is too good for
me.

Tristan watched us both, obviously
feeling his third wheel status. He’s not used to playing second
fiddle to anyone and I’d hurt him too. Still, I felt worse for Dan.
He didn’t have blood groupies he played with nightly. He’d always
been true blue, so I owed him bigger than Tristan. My second
sweetie would just have to mope.

Seeing he was destined to remain the
outsider for now, Tristan put his professional face on. “Anything
new to report?” he asked.

Dan and I shook our heads. I said, “I
should get back to the club. I really need to figure out a way to
spy on Hazel without him seeing me.”

Dan’s hand tightened on mine. “Too
dangerous. I’ve done some checking into his criminal past, and the
guy is bad news, a sociopath. No one can pin anything on him
because he’s that good a witch. He’d make you a wraith before you
could say ‘boo’.”

I thought hard. “I could take over Fizz
full time until this is all taken care of.”

Tristan and Dan chorused an emphatic,
“No.”

Mr. County Commissioner added, “No more
compromising situations with that agent, Brandilynn. I want Bane
off your radar entirely.”

I huffed. “I won’t get into anymore
trouble with him. I have absolutely no intentions of getting myself
into that situation again. But if I’m in Fizz, I can keep an eye on
things without Hazel knowing I’m anywhere around.”

Dan scowled. “Absolutely not. Fizz
isn’t in the inner circle of things anyway. At least as a ghost you
can follow C.K. around.”

Tristan nodded. “He’s right. Unless you
need a quick word with Bane, stay out of her. I mean it,
Brandilynn.” He actually shook a finger at me. Can you believe
it?

I had to laugh at him. “Or what? You’ll
ground me and take my cell phone away, Dad?”

Both my boyfriends glowered at me.
Jeez, talk about your short leashes, and in my case it was doubled.
They had nerve, these two. But Tristan’s almost black eyes were
flinty, and I knew he was on the verge of pulling me off the case.
Dan would almost assuredly back him up on that score.

I scowled, put out with both of them.
“Fine. But you both better remember that outside of sex, I’m not a
woman you order around.”

With that, I took my leave of them,
heading for the friendlier atmosphere of the Beasts club. I knew
they were very unhappy with me still, and yeah, I’d screwed up our
relationships big time. But those boys needed to realize we weren’t
going to be able to fix things if they kept shoving my face in
guilt.

There was a whole lot of nothing going
on at the club. It was daytime, so the majority of the Beasts were
working whatever day jobs they held down. The half dozen enforcers
who were there weren’t talking about anything of interest to Bane’s
case, and the major players themselves; C.K., Hazel, and Bane,
weren’t around. Of course the female ‘property’ knew nothing. They
drifted around cleaning the club and kneeling between the gang
members’ legs to serve up pleasure when ordered. The creeps didn’t
even thank the women for the attention. Then again, the women
didn’t seem to believe they deserved gratitude. What a messed up
way to be.

When listening in on the enforcers’
conversations turned up nothing of interest, I headed for C.K.’s
office. The room had little going for it: a desk with a chair
behind it and two more in front of it. An opened, empty safe. Some
motorcycle parts on built-in shelves. The computer on Pig Boy’s
desk was running, and I drew from it, getting a heady rush. I used
the energy to poke around in the files, reflecting that Dan had
probably done this already. C.K. was too smart to keep important
files in a computer cops could confiscate, so of course I found
nothing of interest.

Feeling like a half-baked version of
Nancy Drew, I gave up, trying not to feel too disappointed. I
hadn’t expected to find anything anyway.

I wandered back into the main club
room, wondering if I had to waste a whole boring day watching
shifters play pool and women clean. Still in less than a sweetheart
mood following my discussion with Dan and Tristan, I had an urge to
play poltergeist with the pool game going on. I scowled at the
enforcers talking football and generally being worthless to my
needs.

The door to the outside swung open, and
a lanky, mussed hair silhouette walked in. Oh shoot. It was
Hazel.

I stood frozen for an instant before
diving behind the pool table, praying he hadn’t seen me standing
big and bold as life across the room. Hails greeted him all around
me, and he answered with a marked lack of enthusiasm. Okay, maybe I
hadn’t been seen.

A female called, “You want something to
drink, Hazel?”

“No. Going back to C.K.’s office to
check on something.”

He was coming closer, and I scrambled
as quietly as possible around the far side of the table to keep
from being detected. Then I mentally smacked myself upside the
head. What was I doing skulking around when I could just
dematerialize the heck out of here? I was rattled by the near
discovery for sure.

Well, if Hazel was here, it meant he
wasn’t at his strip club. That would be a good place to go and
still do my job. Maybe there was something on his computer I could
find. Hadn’t Bane mentioned wanting to break into his files? I was
pretty sure he did.

Feeling useful again, I zapped myself
over to Exotica Erotica.

I remembered the alley behind the strip
club best, so that’s where I took myself. From there, I walked
through the back door into the hall. Walking through stuff is not
as cool as it sounds. While not painful, it feels weird. The
sensation of stuff passing … well, more like dragging … through
your body isn’t pleasant at all. I usually avoid doing that, as do
many ghosts. Even passing through ghost doors, like at the library
and the King George, is uncomfortable.

On my way to Hazel’s office, I passed
the dancers’ dressing room. The room was pretty dark except for the
large mirror’s lights, which surrounded the reflective surface.
Fizz sat there, staring at her image. Stale cigarette and pot smoke
coated the air, along with cheap perfume and sweat. Not exactly the
sweetest olfactory potpourri.