Matthew moaned and rubbed his ass cheek again. Yes, he’d been embarrassed. He’d never expected to see Sloan, dressed like a cross between the Madonna and the whore, smelling like apples and at the same time rubbing her tits against his chest. She’d known what she was doing, that much was even more obvious now.
“Look, Sloan…”
“Leave Sloan for the office, Matthew,” she said with a smile.
“Fine. What the hell do you want, Janice? You want to tell everyone you saw me here? That I’m a freak? Go ahead. I don’t give a f**k,” he said. He whispered the words, half angry, half nervous. He didn’t know what he’d do if she decided to tell people about him.
He was still worried about that. The things he’d let her do! The way he’d begged her not to stop. He shook his head, trying to clear the memories, but it wasn’t working, not when he was still so sore and her smell still lingered in his sheets.
“You’re not a Dom.” Janice shook her head, “I didn’t think so. I mean, you could be, you’re so strong, so masculine and in control. But that’s the problem. Isn’t it, Matthew? It’s a lot of work to be in control all the time.” She raised her delicate hand and twirled her fingers in the hair at Matthew’s nape. It was an intimate act, full of implications.
Ah, yes. The f**king psycho-babble. Olivia had had it right: Sloan couldn’t help herself. She looked right into people and started tearing them apart. No matter that it hurt. No matter that she wasn’t invited to do it. All night, she’d done it to him, poked and poked and poked until he’d given it up.
Janice’s other hand grabbed Matthew’s thigh and gently prodded. Matthew swallowed hesitantly, but then he let Janice in and she stepped between his spread thighs as if she just belonged there. “I wouldn’t tell anyone your secrets, Matthew. I keep a lot of secrets; it’s my job. If you tell me to leave you alone, I will. It’s just…I want you.”
“Why?” Matthew croaked.
Janice smiled against his ear and chuckled softly, “Because I couldn’t possibly think of anything I’d enjoy more, than your sexy ass over my knee.”
It was definitely sexy. Matthew had never come so hard, never begged so much. He’d tried to be defiant, not caring for Sloan’s invasive questions. But in the end, he wanted to come so badly, he’d have done anything, said anything. Sloan made sure to take advantage. She’d pulled confessions out of him that made him so ashamed he could barely breathe. She’d been ruthless.
Her hand followed along the path of his thigh and turned inward to cup his balls. Matthew jumped, startled, but his hands stayed gripped to the barstool. Janice’s fingernails scratched him through his jeans and he couldn’t suppress the helpless sound that came out of him.
He couldn’t face her, not today, not ever. She knew him too well now. He’d told her things he’d never told anyone.
“Okay,” he whispered.
“Okay?” she purred against his ear, her fingers alternately caressing and scratching.
She’d been so reassuring, stroking his hair and telling him it was okay, there was nothing wrong with him.
Matthew nodded, his eyes closed. Already, it was difficult not to come, right there in his jeans like a school kid having his dick touched by the head cheerleader.
“You won’t tell?” he pleaded softly.
Janice gripped the hair at the nape of his neck with enough force to make his eyes sting, “No, Matthew. I won’t tell anyone. Now get the f**k off this barstool and let’s get out of here.”
Last night it had been glorious and liberating. It had been a light to the darkness in his soul, but today…today it was all he could do not to call in sick and lie in bed and hide.
Matthew finally rolled over and let the pain have him. He closed his eyes and moved his body along the sheets, testing all of his muscles. His shoulders hurt quite a bit and his neck was stiff, but mostly it was his ass. His ass felt bruised all the way to the bone and he knew even after his hot shower the pain would remain. He’d think about Sloan all day, all night, and every time he sat down until the pain went away. And suddenly, it was his pride that hurt the most.
He slowly opened his eyes. He was supposed to go back to the hospital first thing this morning and get the rest of Olivia’s statement. He wondered if Sloan would be there and his stomach hurt. No. He couldn’t see Sloan. Ever. He couldn’t stand the idea of facing her and encountering her smug face. And really, who wouldn’t be smug?
Matthew was a notorious jerk. He knew plenty of people who would pay to hear about him being brought so low. Well, he wouldn’t give Sloan the satisfaction of getting to him again. All he had to do was avoid her. It was the coward’s way out, but Matthew figured he could be a coward every now and again. He wouldn’t let it affect his case.
With a loud sigh of resignation, Matthew rolled out of bed on unsteady legs and fumbled toward the table for balance and his phone. There was a note:
Dear Matthew,
Thank you. You were better than I dreamed. Difficult to leave you, but I know you need your space. I’ll be at the hospital in the morning, stop by if you want, otherwise, I’ll be sure to give you time in the afternoon to do your job. Of course, I hope I’ll see you.
Agreement stands, my lips are sealed.
Jani
“Fuck,” Matthew sighed. Even in a note, he could sense how obviously smug she was about last night. If he didn’t show up, then he was a coward. If he did, then he was trying to prove something. It was a catch-22. Angrily, he reached for his phone and fired off a text:
Reed: Intel @ office. Busy til lunch. Pls rcrd interview.
He figured his text was vague and yet succinct enough. He hoped she would get the hint and not discuss last night. It was better if they stuck to the work. The case would be over soon and the both of them would be reassigned. With any luck, he’d have no reason to see her again. All he had to do was make it through the next few days. Less, if he could get Livvie to talk. It was all the motivation he needed.
Matthew took a long, hot shower. It helped loosen his aching muscles. The damage was fairly miniscule, only a few bruises and welts on his ass. It was a relief to know he had no marks on him that would be visible when he was dressed.
He stopped for coffee on the way to work. He didn’t want to stand around the pot at the office. The officers sometimes tried to engage him in conversation and Matthew just wasn’t in the mood. He walked in quietly, nodding in greeting to the desk sergeant and taking the elevator in silence to the chagrin of the building janitor who rode with him.
“This is Agent Reed.” Matthew set his briefcase next to his desk and his coffee next to his keyboard before he turned to acknowledge the officer’s presence.
“Yes?”
“Message came for you late last night. The desk sergeant brought it up this morning,” the young man handed the message to Matthew and walked away.
“Thanks,” Matthew muttered toward the man’s back and looked down at the message. The agent from the FIA had called. Matthew looked at his watch and hoped their offices were still open. He was cutting it close.
He rolled out his chair and picked up his phone to dial the long number. “Hello? Staff Sergeant Patel, please.” He waited for a few minutes while they tracked the man down; relieved he’d called in time.
“Staff Sergeant Patel, speaking.”
“Matthew Reed, FBI,” he said quickly. “You left a message for me. What did you find out?”
There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone, “We looked into private planes with scheduled arrivals in the next three days.” He hesitated, “You were right. There seems to be a lot more activity than usual. No information yet on Demitri Balk or Vladek Rostrovich, but we don’t have all the passenger manifests yet.”
“Can you send me a list of all the information you have available? I’d like to look through it if you don’t mind.”
“We do mind, Agent Reed. If there is something going on, then it falls within our purview and our office can handle it. Is there any other information you would like to share with us?”
Matthew ground his teeth hard enough to make his head hurt. He wasn’t in the mood for the bureaucratic games. “I’m willing to share information so long as we are coordinating. For that to be the case, information has to flow both ways. Time is limited, Staff Sergeant. Neither of us has time for a pissing contest.”
“You Americans and your colorful slang,” Patel said. “No one is ‘pissing’ on anything, Agent Reed, but I’m sure you can see the political implications of this? The world’s eyes are on Pakistan right now and we need to know the situation can be handled discreetly and without embarrassing either country.”
“If you won’t share information, I’ll have to contact my superiors and have them reach out to your government. It could take days and by then, the slave auction could be over,” Matthew said.
“I understand you have a job to do, Agent Reed. I do as well. I will continue to gather information on the private aircraft, passenger lists, arrival times and scheduled departures, etcetera. In the meantime, I suggest you get in contact with your superiors. I will do the same and perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement?”