The Shadow Grove Chronicles - Book II: Dark Artifact

CHAPTER TWELVE

Veronica woke up confused in a bed that was not her own with a warm, slightly snoring, male body pressed up against her back. It took her eyes a moment to focus before she took in the room; illuminated with warm, dim light as it was. Her eyes scanned the room, until she came to the suspension frame filling the center.

It all came back to her, both the pleasure and the pain. With surprise in her glacial blue eyes, she looked at her wrists. They were starting to bruise from the tight leather cuffs that had bound her to the yoke. An intense heat starting from her middle filled her and washed over her skin, turning it from a light olive to red ochre in a deep blush. An excited smile lit up her face then she buried it in the pillow with a muffled squeak.

Oh, my God! It actually happened! Oh! My God… what time is it? Where's my phone? Right, in the basket…

A strong lean arm was snaked around her middle and up her chest, preventing her from moving. The warm hand at the end had palmed one of her small proud breasts as she slept. Trying to lift the arm off of her, the hand slipped, brushing against a small clamp that was still attached to her dark n****e from the night before. Both of her breasts tightened at the stimulus and their little points instantly hardened painfully tight. She gave into the urge to wiggle her slim rounded hips as another wave of heat built up between her legs and exploded.

Veronica arched her back and warm slick wetness trickled down the silky smooth skin of her thighs and tight rounded backside. She tried to stifle an impassioned moan by biting down on her full lower lip. She was unsuccessful, her cry reverberating through her sinuses and out her nose, turning into a lusty high-pitched whine. She laid there as her whole body twitched and tingled until finally recovering, allowing her to finally think straight.

Okay, can’t get to the phone. One more surprise like that and I won’t be able to walk in a straight line let alone speak coherently. Did he put it back on after…

Another deep blush stained Veronica's skin even further down her bust in fine splotches of brilliant scarlet. She lifted her head up off the arm that had been her pillow and found the glint of the bright polished gold band of Jean-Michelle's designer watch. She glanced at the hands and panicked.

Oh, s**t! The rest of the office will be here in two hours!

She started fretting about being caught by a coworker, unable to check to see if the door was locked nor able to escape the strong serpentine grip of her silver fox of a boss. She froze, noticing that his snoring had stopped, as Jean pulled her against him and pressed his hardening flesh against the small of her back. Her heart raced

"How'd you like my booby trap?"

The smug tone he used slightly irritated Veronica. Wanting to dish out a little vengeance, she slowly and sensually spun herself around to face him. She looked up at him demurely, gently pressing her palms on his chest, then she reached up and softly kissed him. She broke the kiss and looked away as if too shy to meet his gaze.

"Thank you, sir. It was better than coffee."

"For you, I bet. Speaking of coffee, get some started." He let her go. Cooly, he spurred her: "Well, go on."

"Y-yes, sir." She was startled by his indifference, but got out of bed to comply. She unsteadily made her way to her clothes in the basket, staring at the useless remains of her favorite underwear that was now a shredded heap on the tile.

“Where are you going?”

“Sir? I’m going to get some coffee started.”

“The door’s over there. What are you doing right now?”

“Um, I’m getting some clothes on, sir.”

“I didn’t say anything about getting dressed.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. Go start some coffee just as you are right now.”

“O-okay. Yes, sir.” She walked stiffly towards the door, mortified over being caught wearing nothing but her lingerie. He stopped her again just as she touched the door handle.

“Wait.”

Veronica waited as he got up and opened a drawer in the armoire, pulling out something. She couldn’t see what it was, her eyes locked on the door knob. Jean held the item under her mouth.

“Spit.”

She looked down at the small metal object Jean held in front of her. It was acorn shaped and polished to a bright shine. A faux fox tail was attached to the broad end.

“Wouldn’t want you to feel naked.”

***

Allie, Becca, and John stepped through the revolving door to enter Renaissance Tower. The polished lobby was bustling as business-suit clad people waited for the elevators to take them to their respective floors. The trio were dressed similarly; but where blues, tans, browns, and grays flowed all around them; they were dressed in all black. The word “Feds” was what most people thought of when they glanced at them before going back to their train of thought, already out of mind. Even with John’s stature, most didn’t pay him a second glance.

As they crossed the tile floor towards the elevators, a security guard stopped them.

“Excuse me,” he started. “Do you have business here?”

His face was impassive as he looked over the three but Allie noticed the way his gaze lingered on both her and Becca. She had to stifle a giggle as she watched the look of amazement play across his face as he lifted his head up to look John in the eye. Becca reached into the inside pocket of her suit jacket and pulled out an FBI badge, offering it to the guard. She flashed him a toothy smile.

“We need to see Mr. Dubois,” she said sweetly.

“I wasn’t aware that he had any meetings with the FBI today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. This wasn’t on the schedule because he requested us over a personal matter. He didn’t want any attention brought to us. You know how secretive corporate executives can be.”

“Right, I should still probably call ahead.”

“You don’t need to go through the trouble.” Becca laid a hand on his forearm. “He’s expecting us. Don’t worry, we’re not here to serve a warrant, yet…” She looked at the nametag on his shirt. “Is that okay, Roger?” She winked at him and he gulped. She could already see redness start to creep up his neck.

“O-okay,” he stammered.

Becca signed to Rowan with her other hand behind her back; nat twenty. He remained stoic and undecipherable so as not to break Becca’s charm on the man. All they needed was a foot in the door, but if he balked their credentials would stand to scrutiny. Especially as the number for their “home office” printed on the card in the badge wallet routed nowhere near an actual phone under the control of the FBI.

The guard pointed down the corridor to the elevators. Becca beamed a smile at him and Allie thought that the man was going to lose his legs and collapse on the floor. As soon as they entered the elevator and pushed the button for their floor, Allie broke the silence.

“Nat twenty?”

Both John and Becca started laughing hard.