Monica Reyes sighed with relief as she closed the apartment door behind her and laid her back against it, dropping her Delta Airlines branded luggage to the floor. It had been a long, hard leg of flights and shifting schedules this week, but she was finally home and able to sleep in a real bed again. The apartment was dark, besides the small couch-side table lamp in the living room, a courtesy from Gabe most likely as he was vaguely aware Monica would be returning sometime in the dark of early morning.
And he had been right. Monica raised her left wrist to look at the face of her smartwatch. 4:47am. Her flight had arrived at JFK three hours ago. There was barely any traffic out there (for New York, anyway) and it had still taken this long to get home. Alas, the misery of working for a major airline.
Then she glanced to her right and saw a pair of jet black men’s shoes set on the top of the door side shoe rack. They were tailored to look sleek and professional but treaded on the bottom in case running was required. Real lawman shoes.
Monica smiled to herself.
Gabe was home.
In that case, Monica thought to herself, sleep could wait.
The modest two-bedroom apartment was just off 92nd Street in Manhattan, right where two single people earning solid cash all for themselves could just barely afford a nice two-bed, two-bath with a kitchen to call home. The brick walls and wide windows gave the place a singles-sitcom vibe that both Monica and Gabe found amusing considering neither would be caught dead watching that shit. They had met through mutual friends who were getting married and leaving this apartment behind them; knowing how expensive Manhattan real estate had gotten, the couple in question had negotiated to transfer the lease to two close friends who could use it.
Thus, Monica and Gabe had become acquainted. For large chunks of time, they barely saw one another due to their work, which worked just fine for both of them; neither had any need or desire to socialize much. But they were both polite, good-humored people with some shared roots (being half black/half Puerto Rican, Monica’s parents had met and started their family in the same block of the Bronx that Gabe’s grandparents originally emigrated to). Add to that they were both objectively attractive: Gabe with his Calvin Klein model looks, solid muscles, and professional law enforcer dress and demeanor; Monica with her gym-sculpted body, full Latin ass, and flawless mocha complexion. Monica had often been told that if Zoe Kravitz had lighter colored eyes and slightly kinkier hair, she and Monica would be twins.
So it was only natural that, once they had had a few nights actually sharing the apartment at once, Gabe and Monica would give in to their lonely, carnal impulses. Neither of their careers lent themselves well to any kind of meaningful relationship and even just getting laid was difficult to come by with anyone either of them were genuinely attracted to. So, whenever they were both home, they acted on their silent agreement to fuck like rabbits, all else be damned.
Anticipation for fulfilling this noble roommate’s duty after such a long work streak filled Monica’s head with delight as she bit her bottom lip smiling and kicked off her shoes. She locked the door and left the luggage where it was; it wasn’t going anywhere. Now was the time for a hot, luxurious shower followed by a hot, luxurious dick.
Monica moved quietly to her bedroom (the master suite, which Gabe had so graciously offered Monica first dibs on) and closed the door before peeling every bit of Delta uniform and itchy undergarments from her body. Several minutes at a time of Monica’s shower were spent simply letting the steam roll over her, filling her breath with relaxation as the body wash suds and needles of hot water did their work on her skin. It was just the elemental massage Monica needed to both refresh herself and prepare for her next adventure at home.
This last thought brought another smile to Monica’s face accompanied by a twitch of pleasure between her legs. She reached down with both hands and rubbed water and suds in equal measure into the little pleasure crevice where her pussy lips lived. Something was beginning to awaken and blossom within Monica’s clean-shaven pelvis and she worked her fingers slowly into its southern end to stoke the feeling further along. A slow sigh of pleasure came out of her parted lips as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back into the shower water, sliding two of her fingers halfway inside herself to encourage her longing for that hot Latin cock.
She was ready.
Monica finished rinsing her hair and body, careful to wring the suds from her shoulder-length springs of hair before turning the shower temperature down and letting the cold water seal her pores for a moment. Then she dried herself down everywhere (except between her legs; there was no drying that). Once she felt her hair was dry enough to avoid catching a cold, she gave herself a “go get some; you’ve earned it” smile in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.
A moment later, Monica was gently and quietly sliding open the door to Gabe’s room. Gabe himself lay in the bed with one well-cultivated bicep over his eyes, the sheets rumpled up at his waist to cover the rest of his nudity; Monica had slept with him enough times to know he preferred sleeping naked, which worked just fine for her. Gabe’s suit was folded up and dangling in neat pieces off of various furniture throughout the room and foot tracks in the carpet around the bed were clear signs of his pacing before he had finally gone to sleep. By the look of things, he either hadn’t been sleeping long - a few hours at most - or he had spent most of the night tossing and turning. Knowing him, Monica thought, likely both.
A sudden noise made Monica jump and clutch a hand to chest before she found the source. Gabe’s phone was vibrating angrily on the nightstand beside the bed. It had taken Monica a moment to notice because Gabe had laid the phone down on its face, concealing most of the light from the awakened smartphone screen. Clearly, he hadn’t wanted anyone fucking up his sleep.
Too bad, Monica thought.
Monica grinned like a naughty child as she scampered to the side of Gabe’s bed and pulled the sheets slowly back. Sure enough, his cock lay in a nice half coil, as if it had been waiting just for her. The aroma rising from Gabe’s body was a mix of coconut and shea butter. As always, he had showered himself down before going to bed. Maybe he had anticipated this, too.
Gabe barely stirred at all as Monica crawled onto the bed and made her way between her roommate’s legs, dipping her head down to trace the curved shaft of Gabe’s cock with her wet, extended tongue. Almost immediately, Gabe’s pleasure piece twitched and began to unfurl, extending out to near full, swollen length in seconds.
Gabe murmured something in his sleep and gave a soft sigh of pleasure. That was all the encouragement Monica needed. She planted the soft ring of her lips at the tip of her roommate’s hardening cock and slid him inside her mouth. She took her time descending down his length, her tongue flexing to work the underside of the shaft.
That woke Gabe up.
“What the hell…?” he muttered, his voice laced with a sleepy groan of pleasure as Monica worked her way back up. “Monica? What time’sit? When did you…nngahh!”
Monica had just swallowed Gabe into her mouth again. She raised an eyebrow and grinned around his dick as she popped back off. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Gabe gasped and sighed. “I said when did y…hnnh!”
Monica scrubbed the head of Gabriel’s cock with her soft, puckered lips. “I believe what you meant to say,” Monica said between bouts of licking Gabe’s shaft, “was ‘welcome home, Monica. Thank you for the lovely dick-sucking, Monica.’”
Gabe chuckled and then seethed as Monica sucked his length again. “Welcome home, Monica,” he said through clenched, smiling teeth. “Thank y -“
“Fuck this,” Monica said, the heat in her eyes making her look like an animal as she rose from her burrow between Gabriel’s legs and began crawling up his torso.
Before Gabe could say a word, Monica was straddling him, her hand reaching back and under her to grab his cock and notch it where it needed to go. A moment later, they both moaned in unison as his fully-swollen length slid home inside her.
“Oh fuck,” Monica moaned, throwing her head back on hunched shoulders as her fingers dug into Gabe’s chest hair. “This is what I needed, baby. This is what I needed…”
“Yeah,” Gabe said, his eyes closed as he began flexing his hands along Monica’s toned hips. “Me…”
He opened his eyes, and for a split second, he saw Asma above him where Monica was supposed to be. Unlike the crime heiress’s usual self-sure smiles, in this moment, she looked needful and gripped in an entirely different kind of desire.
“…too…?”
Monica looked at Gabriel and frowned. “You okay, Gabe?”
Gabriel nodded, shaking the image from his head in the process. “Yeah, I’m good, just…shaking the cobwebs off, I guess.”
Monica grinned mischievously and rotated her hips sharply. This not only moved her pussy around Gabe’s cock but momentarily tightened her grip. The rolling back of Gabe’s eyes told Monica she had hit home.
“Be gone, cobwebs,” Monica said, gripping Gabe’s shoulders and leaning forward. “Me and this dick are about to work.”
Monica arched her back slightly and tilted her hips, angling Gabe’s cock into prime fucking position. She began raising and lowering her hips slowly, acclimating both of them to the motion, before speeding up her rhythm and driving Gabe’s cock hard and fast into her. Before long, Monica was drilling herself with Gabriel’s slippery dick, his every vein and curve sending delicious waves of ecstasy throughout her pussy on every hard and fast stroke.
“Fuck yesssss,” Monica said, bouncing back and forth against the cock she had been craving. “This is why you’re the best roommate ever! Fuh-huh-huuckkk!”
“You like that, baby girl?” Gabe said through clenched teeth, breathing through his nose while his hands kept Monica’s rocking body balanced above him.
Monica felt a steady pulsing building within her. How much of that was her or Gabe, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that it felt good. So good…
“Are you…*hnh!*…are you close?” she managed to gasp out.
Gabe nodded, amazed at himself after what Asma had done to him just hours ago. “Yeah,” he groaned, feeling his balls tighten. “Yeah, I’m close.”
“Okay,” Monica said, biting her lip and reaching up to clench one of her round, medium-sized tits like a stress ball. “Hold on just a few…seconds. Hold…just a…”
Gabe’s cock slid against something a little too good inside of her.
“…second…haaaah…hhnnaaanhh!!!”
Monica came hard, harder than she had in a long time. The tightening waves of her orgasm around Gabe’s cock did the trick for him, too, pulling his cum in bursts deep inside of her. Monica slowed her rocking motion down so both of them could enjoy this, riding the waves of bliss rolling through them both. She could feel the tension in her body completely dissolving, giving way to the pure, carnal joy this man gave her.
The thought of something more growing between them struck Monica for a moment, and not for the first time. It had been a silent, gnawing thing between the two of them ever since the third or fourth time they had done this (and this was around time number eight, if Monica was doing her math right). But every time she started to seriously consider something more than a respectful fuck-buddy understanding between them, she would remember just how distant and lost in his own thoughts Gabe could be. It was so difficult to tell what was going through the man’s head when he got that glassy, mystified look in his eye.
Like the look he had right now.
“Earth to Gabe,” Monica said, tapping his cheek.
“Hey,” he said, snapping out of it. “Sorry, I just…”
Monica smirked. “Don’t worry, I get it. I woke you up and I’m sure you’ve got something like fifteen cases ongoing on right now.”
“Yeah,” Gabe said as Monica swung her leg over him and dismounted. “Yeah, something like that.”
Monica blew out another breath and raised her arms, stretching her taut little body with glee. “I’m all worked up now. And to think I just showered…”
The violent buzzing of Gabe’s phone began anew. Monica scowled and turned her head to look. “Somebody’s trying real hard to get ahold of you, Agent. That thing was blasting off when I walked in here.”
Gabe frowned and sat up in the bed, reaching for the phone. One look at the screen and he knew something was wrong. Fifteen missed calls in a half-hour, all of them from the same number.
The same one calling now.
“Shit,” Gabe muttered as he hit the green ‘accept’ button. “Yeah, this is Lima,” he said into the phone.”
Monica recoiled a bit as she heard the cry of “WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!” blast from the phone as if it had been on speaker. Gabe held the phone away from his ear and blinked before bringing it back.
“Jesus, I’m sorry! I was sleeping! It’s five in the morning, what -“
Gabe stopped talking as the voice on the other end muttered garbled information like an unseen adult in a Peanuts special. Gabe’s eyes first narrowed, then widened, then slacked as he put a hand to his face, rubbing his temples.
“Christ. Okay, we have anyone at the hospital?”
pause
“I’m telling you, that’s not good enough. We need at least four more agents on her floor and some NYPD watching the street. There’s no telling how many assholes might come at her right now while she’s vulnerable. Let me get dressed and I’ll be right there.”
Monica frowned as Gabe disconnected the call and rose quickly from the bed, gunning for his clothes. “Who’s in the hospital?”
“A source,” Gabe said. “A very valuable source.”
“Is she okay?”
“Seems to be,” Gabe replied, securing his pants at the waist. “Listen, I’m sorry to run out on you like this…”
“It’s cool,” Monica said, waving a hand. “You gave me what I needed, if it’s any consolation.”
Gabe chuckled. “It is. It definitely is.”
He threw on the rest of his clothes while Monica watched and kissed her on the cheek before leaving the room. She shook her head and looked at the ceiling.
“A valuable source,” she repeated to herself. “She’s a source of something, I’ll bet.”
*
Asma could feel the scrape of Cassandra’s fingers against the skin of her collarbone. The broken glass of the Escalade’s windows hadn’t finished falling to the ground, and this blonde slut was already clawing at her, working desperately to steal back something that had never truly been hers to begin with. But this was what resulted of not dealing with a problem properly, Asma realized. She had had every opportunity to rid herself of Cassandra in a far more final fashion; instead, she had let sentiment get the best of her.
“That’s the problem, huh?” Gabriel said. “That you were too easy on the woman you screwed over?”
Asma blinked. The interior of the flipped and twisted Escalade was hazy, like she was trying to see it through a dense fog. The upside-down streetlights outside cast bent halos of light through the jagged glass teeth of the busted-out windows. She turned her head a bit to her left, ignoring for the moment the strange vertigo of hanging upside down by her seatbelt. In the driver’s side passenger seat beside her, Agent Lima sat, himself hanging from his seat belt. Aside from that, he looked perfectly unharmed.
He wasn’t there, a strange voice said in the back of her head. He’s still not here.
“Just a thought,” Lima continued, “maybe sentiment’s not your problem. Maybe screwing over those who’ve helped you is always going to bring karma knocking.”
“How…” Asma muttered, blinking again to try and clear her head. “How do I…”
“Work with me,” Lima said earnestly, his unbridled honesty shining in his eyes. “Let me help you make things right.”
“Oh, sure,” another voice said in thick Arabic. This voice was old and scratchy from years of tobacco abuse and yet still somehow feminine. It was the voice of Asma’s grandmother.
“Jidda…?” Asma said, narrowing her eyes at the seat in front of her.
Grandmother appeared as if out of a mist, turning from the front passenger seat to face Asma. Her perfect head of dark hair - still naturally black even in her seventies - was held tight to her head by the expertly coiled bun she always made at the base of her neck. Her arched eyebrows spoke volumes of her opinion of Asma’s strategies of late, her dark and wise eyes tinted yellow by the substances she had so loved in her long and storied life. As far as Asma could tell, Jidda wasn’t secured by any seat belt. Then again, Cassandra’s claws on Asma’s skin had slowed to a near halt, so clearly time and physics had little meaning here.
“Trust in the federal agent,” Asma’s grandmother continued in her native tongue, “and you will paying for your crimes for the rest of eternity. We are Balil. We don’t shy from the sins of our bloodline, we embrace them. We give our enemies cause to fear us. How have you failed to make this American woman fear you that she can be so bold now?”
“She…she was my friend,” Asma said, her emotions twisting her mind in a million directions. “She got too close, I -“
“You let her too close!” Jidda snapped. “You were too lost in loneliness, too desperate for affection to see the threat this woman presented until it was too late. She has seen the weakness behind your strength. The family chain would have brought you all the affection you needed, and now you’ve lost it.”
“Sex with unwitting partners isn’t affection,” Lima said. “You may as well have drugged them. They don’t know what they’re doing, and I would know.”
Jidda chuckled. “You know better than that, don’t you little one? You remember your initiation…the rush of the chain overtaking you, the lust that had always been there, fully awakened and in control…did you not know what you were doing?”
Asma did remember. She could never be sure if Mohammed, as young and impressionable at the time as herself, had any real idea what was going on. But even now, in this strange dreamscape of the overturned Escalade, the thought of the night she had given her virginity to know firsthand the power of the family chain generated a moist, pleasant ache between her thighs.
“Don’t listen, Asma,” Gabriel insisted. “Work with me. We can use this to fix things, make it an opportunity.”
“It pains me to say I agree with him there,” Jidda said with a sigh. “This is an opportunity…a challenge. Let us see how you do without the sword and shield you’ve inherited and become so reliant upon. Let us see if you are strong enough…”
Asma blinked as the echo of Jidda’s voice was replaced by a soft, rhythmic beeping and a glaring, distant light began to dissolve the darkness of the street and her overturned vehicle. Another blink and the real world began to come into focus, her hospital room sharpening around her as she fully awoke. A figure began to move and come into focus beside her bed and it was still a few minutes before Asma could be sure the figure was Dr. Miller.
“Hello there,” Dr. Miller said as cheerfully as she was capable. “You got knocked out pretty good there, huh?”
“Dr. Miller,” Asma said, moving her jaw to get her lips moving the way she meant them to. “How long…?”
“About six hours,” Dr. Miller said, tapping one of the many monitors with her pen before jotting more notes onto a chart. “You’ve had a minor concussion and your blood pressure is a little higher than I’d like. Aside from that and a few scrapes, you’re fine. You just needed to rest.”
Asma absently ran her fingers over her collarbone, knowing full well the chain was gone. “Tomas? Is he okay?”
“He’s down the hall,” Dr. Miller said. “His concussion was a bit more severe than yours, but he’ll recover fine. Your people have been all over the wing and I imagine authorities will want to ask you questions about the accident but there’ll be time for all of that later. Right now, you need to relax.”
“I need to get out of here,” Asma said, rising up to swing her legs out of the bed. “I need to find the woman who -“
“Ah ah AH!” Dr. Miller snapped, gesturing with one bony hand for Asma to put her legs back where they were. “You won’t stay a full day like you should, I know. The least you can do is rest until daylight. I don’t want you collapsing on your way out the door. Besides, I gather your people are working overtime to find the wild woman who did this to you, so you’ll get whatever information you need soon enough. Now, relax.”
Asma sighed. Though sleep was the last thing she wanted right now, her body was exhausted. And powerful as she was these days, she knew better than to argue with the woman who had treated the family - up to and including their major enforcers - for decades. Even with the chain, Dr. Miller was too focused and beyond any lustful hooks for its power to work on her.
“Fine,” Asma said, pulling the cheap hospital covers back up. “In that case, give me just a little privacy so I can actually fall asleep.”
“Look at you, listening like a good girl,” Dr. Miller said in the condescending tone she knew only she could get away with. She jotted a final note on her clipboard and gave Asma a tight smile. “I’ll see that you’re not disturbed.”
The doctor left the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her. Asma sighed again and laid back into the papery, crunchy pillow and shut her eyes, trying to clear her head and failing miserably. All she could think about was losing the chain, her mind lost in theories of what Cassie would use it for and what side effects the chain’s loss might create in the meantime. It was likely only a matter of time before someone realized they had been following Asma’s orders against their will. She would lose the loyalty of her people.
She might even lose Gabriel.
That last point struck Asma harder than anything else. As much as she had tried to deny the fact to herself, she had grown very fond of Agent Lima, far more than just an enjoyment of his body and the rush of fucking an enemy. He had a kindness to him, a vulnerability and sense of honor Asma usually disdained in anyone else. It reminded her pleasantly of her father, despite her father’s many failings.
Dwelling on Gabriel soothed Asma enough that real sleep began to finally claim her. She saw his face gazing back at her, her mind traveling back to their first meeting. Gabriel had set the meet at a hotel room in Newark to keep Asma away from the usual prying eyes without raising too many eyebrows. For Newark, the accommodations weren’t bad - a small, recently refurbished Hyatt away from any businesses, legal or otherwise, that had any interest in Asma’s operations - and Agent Lima had even had the courtesy to put the room in the name of a friend of the family in order to avoid suspicion.
So it was that Asma walked into the Hyatt and took the elevator up to the third floor. She wore a knee-length black cocktail dress with a generous cleavage-teasing v-cut beneath a cream-colored denim jacket, her bangs pulled back in a partial ponytail with her sunglasses perched above her forehead. She looked for all the world like some local’s wealthy spoiled cousin who decided to stay at a hotel rather than slum it at the family house for spring break. All arrogance aside, Asma knew no amount of drab clothing or lack of makeup would hide her striking (and in this country: exotic) features enough for no one to notice her; hence, she created a character that no one would think twice about while ogling her dress and checking out her ass as she got onto the elevator.