Неизвестный - 4. Justice In The Shadows

“Sandy,” Mitchell gasped. “Jesus, you’re making me crazy with that.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Do something about it, will ya?”

Do something about it, will ya? Do something…Something inside snapped. Mitchell stood abruptly on shaking legs, stripped off her jacket, and threw it behind her. Then she reached down for the bottom of Sandy’s top, curled her fingers in the thin fabric, and dragged it up and off. Swiftly, she knelt before the sofa and, with one arm around Sandy’s waist, pulled the startled young woman toward her, forcing Sandy to spread her legs on either side of Mitchell’s body. Tight between Sandy’s open thighs, Mitchell leaned forward and put her mouth to Sandy’s breast, closing around the nipple with her teeth as she caught and squeezed the other between her fingers.

Sandy gave a startled cry, drove her fingers into Mitchell’s hair, and pressed her breast harder to Mitchell’s mouth. “Oh my god. Dell.”

Mitchell was on fire. All day, the memory of being with Sandy—her smell, the softness of her skin, her surprised cries of pleasure—had simmered just below the surface of her consciousness. All day she’d wanted her, and now, now she couldn’t touch her enough.

“Dell,” Sandy gasped, tugging at Mitchell’s hair. “Dell, take your shirt off. Come on, baby…let me feel your skin.”

With her lips still around Sandy’s nipple, sucking the hard knot of flesh relentlessly, Mitchell began tearing at her clothes, pulling her shirt from her jeans, fumbling at her fly. Sandy’s hands joined hers and finally she had to release Sandy’s breast long enough to lean back and remove her shirt. In the next instant, Sandy’s hands were on her, running over her breasts and abdomen, pushing below the edge of her jeans. Everywhere, everywhere she burned.

“Sandy.” Shivering with need, Mitchell looked up into Sandy’s eyes. “I want to taste you. Please…is it okay?”

Sandy’s eyes widened. Her hands trembled as she framed Mitchell’s face. “You have…such a fabulous mouth.”

Still kneeling, Mitchell groaned as Sandy’s hands moved lower beneath the waistband of her open jeans. “Do not…go there,” she warned, her stomach board-hard with arousal as she pulled away.

“Hey!” Sandy protested.

“Be patient.” Carefully, Mitchell slid Sandy’s tight black slacks down and off, then drew her fingertips up the inside of Sandy’s smooth thighs. Sandy, heavy-lidded and breathing quickly, was propped on her elbows, watching her.

“Okay?” Mitchell’s voice was hoarse.

Sandy nodded, placing one hand behind Mitchell’s neck. “Uh-huh. Better even.”

Mitchell let Sandy guide her head down, closing her eyes as she immersed herself in the warm, wet welcome. The first kiss drew a sound of surprised pleasure, the next a long sigh, and when she carefully traced the delicate folds and firm prominences with her tongue, a sob of joy. Sandy’s fingers on the back of her head pulled her closer, and as she played the nerve bundle with her tongue, she unconsciously lowered one hand to stroke herself.

“Ohh,” Sandy gasped, jerking nearly upright, both hands on Mitchell’s head now, holding her close, just holding on. “Dell…Dell, I’m gonna come.”

Mitchell swiftly forgot her own needs, bringing both hands beneath Sandy’s hips, holding her fast as she carried her higher. Breath suspended, she followed the rise and fall of Sandy’s hips, timed her strokes to the pulse beating between her lips, and thrilled to the sensation of her lover climaxing in her mouth.

Sandy grabbed a handful of Mitchell’s hair and tugged weakly. “C’mere.” She edged one leg between Mitchell’s thighs. “Oh, you’re really wet.”

“Yeah. You make me so hot.” Mitchell turned her face to Sandy’s neck and kissed her. She wanted to come, but she never wanted the excitement to end, so she held very still, holding back. “You feel so good.”

Sandy put her mouth to Mitchell’s ear and whispered, “Come on my leg.”

The words shot through Mitchell like a bolt of lightening, triggering her nerve endings, everything going off at once. Her control shattered, and she came with a shout.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Sandy soothed, stroking the length of Mitchell’s back. “You’re so sexy, Dell. God.”

“You kill me,” Mitchell mumbled.

“Mmm. I like that.” Sandy tightened her hold, feeling at once incredibly strong and incredibly vulnerable. Mitchell did scary things to her.

But when Mitchell sighed, “Yeah, me, too,” all Sandy really felt was happy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Will you stop fidgeting?”

“It tickles.”

“Aww.” Sandy drew the brush along Mitch’s jaw. “I bet you didn’t give Jasmine a hard time.”

“Jasmine wasn’t standing between my legs.” Mitch shifted on the stool, and Sandy pushed closer, making Mitch gasp.

“Good thing,” Sandy muttered. “She’s way too hot.”

“Not interested.”

“Shut up, Mitch. You’ll ruin my line.” Sandy switched to a pencil and widened the already dark brows. “So, where you goin’?”

“Jasmine is taking me to the Troc. Depending on how things go, I might go out clubbing with some of the kings later. The sooner the better, Frye says.”

Sandy reached down and gently squeezed Mitch’s crotch. “Just make sure you don’t spend it anywhere else tonight.”

Mitch got wet and hard. Shit. “If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m gonna spend it right here.”

“Mmm. I can do fast.”

“I can’t.”

“Liar.” Sandy reached down between his legs again.

“Not right now, anyhow.” Mitch grabbed her hand. “Will you give me a break?”

Sandy laughed again. “No freakin’ way.” She kissed him, seriously this time, until she felt him start to rock against her, then she stepped back. “See ya later then, stud.”

“Jeez, you’re a tease.”

“Mmm, you complainin’?”

“You hear me complaining?” Mitch murmured, sliding off the stool and pulling her close. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. Man, I want to.”

“Sure. So go already, since you’re no good for anything else right now.” She kissed him one last time to soften the words.

“I’ll be good later.”

“Promises, promises.” But she was smiling as he walked out the door.

Jasmine wore figure-hugging deep red slacks, a scoop top, and a short shiny black vinyl jacket. “Sandy did a great job. You look great. Are you ready?”

“As I’m ever gonna be.”

“You okay on the background stuff we reviewed?” Jasmine hooked a hand around Mitch’s forearm as they walked. “I’ll be with you tonight, and we’ll just hang out. Tomorrow I’m performing though, so you’ll be on your own for a while then.”

“I can handle it.”

Jasmine slid her arm around Mitch’s waist as they reached the door of the club. “I have no doubt.”

Immediately inside the door a burly guy in a tight black T-shirt and black jeans stood with arms folded across his massive chest.

“Hi, Ronnie.”

“Hi, Jas.” He leaned over and delicately kissed her cheek. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Ronnie, this is Mitch.”

He held out his hand. “Yo.”

“Hey,” Mitch said, shaking the huge hand which was firm but surprisingly gentle.

“Is Kennie here?” Jasmine asked.

“Sure. He’s in the lounge with a few of the other guys.”

Jasmine took Mitch’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

Mitch took a deep breath. Show time.

The lounge was a paneled, low-ceilinged space with a sofa, a couple of overstuffed chairs, a coffee table and a pool table. Two drag kings stood, cue sticks in hand, intently studying the lie of the balls on the faded green felt. A third sat with his booted feet propped up on the table, watching the game, a beer bottle in one hand. All three were dressed in jeans, Tshirts, and boots, and all had the smooth-faced, androgynous features so typical of drag kings. One had a small trim mustache that looked real, one had convincing sideburns, and all of them were flat-chested.