Femme Faux Fatale Page 6

  Cain stalked on all fours onto the bed to hover above Riley, who caressed Cain’s braced arms slow and steady, as if anchoring himself to his muscles and tendons. Cain lowered himself to kiss Riley on the lips, lingering there for a delicious moment. Then he dipped farther down to pepper Riley’s neck with openmouthed kisses.

  “Oh….” Riley inhaled, moaned, and arched up.

  Feeling victorious and accomplished, Cain licked his way down to Riley’s nipples, silken and pink, and sucked on them. Riley whimpered and gripped Cain’s shoulders hard. Cain slid his hands along Riley’s sides, found the lines and traced the curves, tickled the ridges and dipped in the valleys. He briefly wound his arms around Riley’s torso and brought him up so close that not a single molecule of air could have slipped between them.

  Riley’s skin was smooth as velvet, warm and soft, and he smelled so good all over. Riley’s odor intrigued Cain. His body carried a mix of male musk beneath dark floral whiffs of perfume. Cain inhaled deep and embraced Riley, their bodies finally in full contact.

  Giggling, Riley wrapped his arms and legs tighter around Cain. “Got you now.”

  Though Riley likely said the words in jest, suddenly Cain’s chest constricted. He realized in a heartbeat that the implication was something he wouldn’t have minded one damn bit.

  Chapter Eight

  CAIN tore Riley’s underwear off and threw the tatters over his shoulder.

  Riley laughed. “I would have taken them off. And they cost a bundle too.”

  “I’ll buy you new ones,” Cain replied with a growl.

  “What kind of a girl does that make me, huh? Letting a man who is not a gentleman buy me undergarments? How decadent.”

  Riley shuddered theatrically, and Cain chuckled. They kissed again, their lips sealed, their tongues sliding effortlessly against each other. Cain gripped Riley’s pretty cock and tugged gently. Riley sighed and his hips jerked up. His prick throbbed hotly against Cain’s palm; Cain could feel his lover’s rapid pulse. Warm droplets of sticky fluid gathered onto his fingers from Riley’s slit and eased the stroking.

  With a dexterous touch, Riley ripped Cain’s boxer briefs to shreds, until they fell off him in rags of fabric. He snickered into the kiss when Cain grunted his disapproval, though only halfheartedly.

  “Serves you right.” Riley sucked on Cain’s tongue, as if to punish and reward him at once. Then he pushed Cain up a fraction to peer between their bodies. A smirk emerged. “Mmm, très bien monté.”

  Cain frowned in bafflement. “My French is a bit rusty. Or rusted through, to be exact.”

  Riley waggled his eyebrows. “Well hung.”

  Gurgling, Cain damn near swallowed his tongue at the lewd words, even if made in another language.

  Impatience boiled in Cain’s balls. He needed to get inside Riley now. Fumbling in the top drawer of his rickety nightstand, Cain produced a rumpled tube of lube and several packets of condoms. He tossed them haphazardly on the bed and continued to jack Riley and kiss him. Riley tasted of coffee, a flavor familiar to Cain, but with a sweet spice mixed with it.

  They were both buzzing with renewed energy, some from caffeine but mostly from lust.

  When Cain moistened his fingers and probed Riley’s hole, Riley whimpered and spread his legs farther to accommodate Cain’s actions. As soon as Cain’s digits entered Riley’s behind, he was already pushing back, his channel milking those fingers, as if trying to suck them deeper. The prep didn’t take long at all.

  Cain pulled back from the kiss to tear open a packet and roll the condom on.

  “Aww, I wanted to do that,” Riley murmured with adorable pouty lips swollen from so many kisses. An irreverent grin followed. “With my mouth.”

  Cain had to grab the base of his cock and yank on his balls to hold back the orgasm. “Shut up, will you? Coming in.”

  As Riley chuckled, his body vibrating, Cain pressed his sheathed cockhead against Riley’s opening and pushed. He popped in with ease, a testament to Riley playing with his own ass when he felt like it.

  “Fuck, you feel good.” Cain was in pure and utter bliss. Ecstasy didn’t even begin to describe how amazing it was to be inside Riley at that moment.

  Riley shuddered and spoke through gritted teeth. “Man, you’re huge. Much bigger than my meager dildo.”

  Cain smirked, proud of himself—even though Riley was surely exaggerating. “Glad to oblige, sweetheart.”

  He braced his upper body above Riley with straightened arms as he set his hips to work on giving them both pleasure. He didn’t stop inching deeper until his balls met with Riley’s butt. There he gave himself a breather, pausing to collect his wayward desire to pummel away until he shot his load inside his lover.

  Riley glanced up at him, brow scrunched in a disapproving frown. “What are you waiting for down there? An engraved invitation?”

  Cain burst out laughing, tension leaving his muscles and relaxation taking the edge off his need to come. “Oh, am I keeping you waiting, princess?”

  Riley pouted and slapped Cain playfully on the arm. “I was right. You are no gentleman.”

  “Never said I was.”

  Riley’s eyes lit up like green stars in the dead of night. “When you’re slapped, you’ll take it and like it.” Confused, Cain met that with a blank expression, and Riley grinned. “It’s a quote from The Maltese Falcon, a film noir classic.”

  Cain shrugged. “Not my kind of movie.”

  “I adore noir in all its forms. That movie’s about a private detective caught in a web of criminals, femmes fatale, and a missing statue.”

  “Sounds eerily familiar. Guess it’s true: art imitates life…. Or is it the other way around in this case?”

  Riley giggled, his body shimmying deliciously, his channel rippling around Cain’s cock in a manner that sent flutters of lust coursing through his veins. “Poor boy. If I’d known you were being neglected, I would have come sooner.”

  Cain was out of his depth. “What?”

  “That’s from The Glass Key, another film noir movie.”

  “That seems to be your genre of choice, then. In all things in your life.”

  “What can I say? I’m complicated and multilayered.”

  “Like an onion or an ogre?”

  “That is definitely not my type of film. Though I have seen it. Shrek is love, Shrek is life.”

  They both laughed at that. Cain had never before laughed during sex. He’d never met a guy with whom the mood transformed into something light and goofy and easygoing. It was nice in an entirely unexpected way.

  Cain lowered on top of Riley, wound his arms around him, and started to move again, this time at a more deeply penetrating angle and with a quickened pace. Riley moaned, arched his back, and gripped Cain’s back hard, his nails digging in, scratching and drawing up blood.

  “Oh yeah, yes please…” came Riley’s drawn out, hushed plea.

  Cain kissed Riley silent. He tangled their tongues together and sucked on him gently. They both shivered and groaned into the kiss. They reveled in each other, prolonged the smooch, nibbled on each other’s lips and tongue.

  “Next time, baby, I’m gonna suck your cock for hours and hours,” Cain whispered hotly into Riley’s ear, then sucked on his earlobe, licked around the shell, and bit into the fleshy part.

  Riley’s tortured moan was music to Cain’s ears. Riley grabbed his own dick between their writhing bodies to jerk off. Cain stopped him, put his own hand in its place, and started his own ruthless pace, unyielding and passionate. He remembered to swipe his thumb over the little slit on each upstroke and to occasionally press on the tiny sweet spot under the crown.

  Riley kept thrashing about and whimpering. “More, Cain. More. Harder, deeper, faster. More….”

  Cain bent to lick the column of Riley’s neck and suck up a mark he couldn’t easily hide. It fit him perfectly. Cain admired his handiwork. Riley might not notice the bruise until his next shift at the club. Would he be angr
y with Cain?

  Riley’s tight channel clamped around Cain’s cock like a velvet vise. Cain swirled and swiveled his hips to give his lover the maximum amount of sensation from his dick sliding in and out, filling him and then emptying him, over and again. Soon Cain snapped his hips madly, like a man on a mission to give Riley everything he had. He pounded into the lovely guy beneath him with gusto.

  To show he could play too, Cain murmured, “Say ‘kiss me.’” Riley blinked up at him, a tiny frown marring his high forehead. Cain grinned. “Say ‘kiss me.’”

  Riley seemed to decide it sounded doable since his brow smoothed again. “Kiss me.”

  “I want you,” Cain said and raised his eyebrows to indicate Riley should repeat the words.

  “I… I want you?” Riley’s voice had taken on a mixed note of confusion and amusement. Then he chuckled. “Is this exchange of dialogue from a movie?”

  Cain nodded. “Blade Runner.” He kissed Riley quickly on the lips. “One more line, darling, by you. ‘Put your hands on me.’”

  Riley giggled, his skin flushed, his eyes dark, his happiness evident in every gesture, word, and expression. “Please, Cain… put your hands on me. All over me. Touch me.”

  Their lips met in a hungry kiss and their hands roamed, groping wildly, urgency rising to frantic levels in their lovemaking. Cain fucked Riley to his cock’s and heart’s content. Riley’s body seemed to swallow his dick whole, enveloping him snugly. His steady tempo finally broke and stuttered as his need overwhelmed him.

  “Gonna come, baby.”

  “Me too. Oh God, me too.”

  The timbre of Riley’s voice dropped an octave as his moans intensified. Cain was unable to remain silent either, and he groaned in delight. The tart and salty odor of come grew thick around them, and hot fluid rained between their bodies as Riley came with a hushed shout.

  It was too much for Cain. His movement stilled as desire crested within him. He shot like a rocket, filling the condom with his seed. Greedy and selfish of him, yes, but he wished there were no barriers between them, that he could coat Riley’s body with himself from the inside. Then Riley would be marked his forever.

  And wasn’t that a crazy thought?

  “YOUR accent—are you from New Orleans?”

  While waiting for Riley to respond, Cain drew lazy circles on Riley’s back as they cuddled. Noon had come and gone. They’d had breakfast in bed, cornflakes with milk and banana slices, plus coffee. Simple and effective.

  Cain never wanted to leave his apartment. Last night had been amazing. Riley had rocked his world.

  Lying at Cain’s side, one leg thrown over Cain’s hips, Riley placed a kiss on Cain’s chest, his hair covering Cain’s skin like silk drapes. “Yes, from the Lower Garden District.”

  Then he clammed up. Perhaps he felt reluctant to talk about his past. Family was a sore subject for a lot of people. Cain obliged by trying to change the subject. But Riley spoke faster.

  “At first I thought that had to be from Ghost in the Shell, but it’s from Akira, isn’t it?” Riley pointed at the poster of a futuristic nocturnal cityscape hanging on the wall.

  “Yeah.” Cain was pleased that Riley had recognized the picture.

  “You’re into anime, then?” Riley asked, sounding sincerely curious.

  “No. Cyberpunk movies. As you see.” Cain waved indistinctly at his walls, which were littered with old and new movie posters. He had pictures of all the best: The Fifth Element, Blade Runner, Matrix, Metropolis, Total Recall, Strange Days, Tron, Appleseed, The Lawnmower Man, and many more. His apartment was also adorned with other pictures from these movies, mostly cityscapes. He had always found them fascinating. Especially against the backdrop of the LA skyline.

  “Ah. Blade Runner. So that’s your preferred genre, the same way film noir is mine. They’re cool.” Riley snuggled closer and hugged Cain tighter. “I don’t know much about cyberpunk, though. I’ve seen a couple, mostly ’cause they’re classics.”

  “So you don’t mind that I don’t have, like, actual art up there?”

  Riley snorted. “This is LA. Everyone has movie posters on their walls. Besides, as I said, yours are cool. I really like those science fiction cities. They’re awesome. Imaginative.”

  Grinning, Cain buzzed with delight. Riley’s good taste implied they might match beyond the bedroom. His curiosity about all things Riley drove him forward. “Why’d you choose the stage name Dark Lily?”

  Briefly there was only silence. Riley seemed to hesitate. Then he asked, “Have you heard of the Black Dahlia?”

  Cain frowned. “You mean Elizabeth Short, that woman who was murdered in the forties?”

  “Yes. I saw a picture of her once. Her arrest photo, I think it was. The story of her life was written all over her beautiful face, and it was a tragedy in three acts. To me, she represents such a mysterious character, the epitome of a femme fatale. That was the impression I was going for in my act.”

  Cain considered Riley’s reply carefully. Elizabeth Short had earned her nickname from her murder—which in turn had been a rip-off from a film noir murder mystery, The Blue Dahlia. “You know, I’m a little surprised that while we were fucking, you didn’t quote once from the one movie that’s been the source of your inspiration.”

  Riley was immediately on the same page. “Oh, you mean The Blue Dahlia? Hmm…. How about… ‘I take all the drinks I like, any time, any place. I go where I want to with anybody I want. I just happen to be that kind of a girl.’”

  Cain smiled. “You’re amazing. You know these noir films by heart.”

  “In LA everyone knows hundreds of lines from their favorite shows. It’s like proof positive you belong in this crazy town.” He snickered then. “Although just so you know, I don’t drink. Or smoke. Anything.”

  Admittedly Cain was pleased to hear that. Of course he’d noted that about Riley already. He smelled too good to be either an alcoholic or a chain smoker. “Me neither. Sugar’s my only drug of choice. Disarms my cantankerous ways.”

  For a while they gazed into each other’s eyes, barely touching, mere hints of sex lingering in the air and crackling between them.

  Riley had been correct that Short’s unsolved murder carried a notorious stigma that branded her with the label femme fatale. Though the Black Dahlia wouldn’t have been Cain’s first choice of a theatrical persona, Riley clearly had an eye for what made an impact in show business.

  Speaking of performances…. Cain took the bull by the horns.

  “Are you ready to tell me the whole truth about why you pretended to be Camille Astor?”

  Chapter Nine

  RILEY pushed up on one elbow and gazed down at Cain, disappointment and hurt in his eyes. “Is that why you slept with me? To get me to talk?”

  “No, of course not. I brought you to my bed because I wanted you. I do want you. If there was no case to solve, I’d never let you leave.”

  Riley’s hardened features softened upon hearing Cain’s reply. He ducked his head, and his long black hair cascaded to frame his delicate face. Slowly he closed his eyes and sighed, which was his custom, it seemed.

  “You do believe me when I say that I’m truly worried about Sheridan’s disappearance?”

  “Yes.” Cain uttered the word, though only half of him was certain.

  Frowning, Riley studied him. Then he nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Sheridan is sweet. A nice guy. The best boss I’ve ever had and an even better friend.” He squared his shoulders as if attempting to alleviate stress. “Camille… she and I are not friends. But we aren’t enemies either. I do, however, feel that she’s taking Sheridan’s disappearance awfully casually. She’s far too blasé for my liking. I don’t understand why she’s not more worried.”

  Cain shrugged. “Perhaps she knows where he is and doesn’t care. A man into bondage and gambling is a man who I suspect does disappearing acts all the time.”

  Riley stared at him, seemingly conflicted. “Look, I know I to
ld you about those things. His relationship with Camille is… unusual, to say the least, but Sheridan is also the most levelheaded person I’ve ever met. Contradictory, I know, but true. His gambling habit has never consumed him. And the bondage… well, he only does that with Camille. As far as I know.”

  “What about the mistress angle?”

  “There are a lot of women hanging around Sheridan and a lot of men around Camille. They’re big in the clubbing industry and well-known. That makes for a lot of potential sex partners, probably more than I know about. But I’m reasonably certain each of them has a lover.”

  Cain quirked an eyebrow. “Not just Sheridan but Camille too?” When Riley nodded, Cain pressed for more information. “And you don’t have any names?”

  Riley shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. If I did, I would have told you earlier.”

  Cain considered this. When Riley had pretended to be Camille, he’d referenced a driver, Renner, so perhaps Riley suspected him, subconsciously at least. As for the woman…. “You suspect Sheridan’s mistress might have something to do with him vanishing?”

  “The truth is… I don’t know. I was hoping you would find out.”

  “But this mistress is not you?”

  Riley gave Cain the stink eye and pursed his lips. “Sheridan isn’t into men. I told you that. It’s a fact.”

  Cain moved on to his next tactic. “What about the missing statuette? Does Sheridan really keep it close to his bed in remembrance of the real Camille?”

  This time when Riley looked away and his cheeks pinked, Cain was onto him. “Yes… and no. It’s complicated.”

  “I’m listening.”

  But Riley said nothing more. His lips were closed so tight not even an air molecule could have escaped, let alone a confession. In true femme fatale style, Riley kept a ton of secrets close to his heart. Cain hedged, wondering if he should probe further. But he was trying to elicit information from Riley, so perhaps a show of confidence would help.