Southern Spirits (23 page)

Priscilla swallowed, her breath coming short and her legs growing unsteady as Kerry stood tall before her, licking her lips, playing along with this familiar but still enticing game of theirs. Priscilla's voice broke. ‘Y– You can't talk to me like that.'

‘I can do anything I want.' She grabbed Priscilla by the lapels of her jacket. ‘I can have anything I want. Or anyone.' She pulled her into a hot, hard kiss, their lips parting and their tongues thick and hot around each other, Kerry being as rough and as dominant as Priscilla craved.

Kerry leant against the side of the car, still dragging Priscilla along, pulling the young woman down to her breasts. ‘Kiss them. Worship them.'

Priscilla obeyed, plunging into the swelling curves of the cleavage, tasting salty sweat as her hands moved up to unhook the top, freeing the breasts before clamping her mouth over one of Kerry's nipples. The flesh filled her mouth, and Priscilla licked and sucked greedily.

‘Ooh,' Kerry cooed. ‘It seems
you're
the dirty slut here, aren't you?'

Priscilla moaned into the flesh, her own nipples aching in her clothes and her pussy thickening and throbbing as Kerry pushed her to her knees. She reached up to undo the hip clasps on Kerry's bottoms, tugging them away to reveal the soft wet strip of hair on Kerry's pussy. Heartbeats later, her fingertips parted the woman's cleft, felt the heat and drank in her scent.

‘Oh yeah!' the woman cried out in deep satisfaction, clutching Priscilla's head, riding against her mouth. ‘That's it, you little bitch, do it like that! And don't stop!'

Priscilla heeded her paramour's demands. She worked up a
rhythm, her tongue darting inside, licking and lapping and drawing in her folds to suck on the flesh, until Kerry's whole body shook and heaved, breathless. ‘Son of a . . .'

Priscilla's mouth felt damp with Kerry's juices. God, she was so horny for her! She gripped Kerry's hips and dived back into her sex, her only distraction the shiny gold badge at her knee.

Badge? She glanced at it, noted the shiny gold surface, stamped with the logo of the Internal Revenue Service. A special agent's badge . . .

‘Ms Montoya?'

Cat blinked and looked up, finding herself pressing a nude Tara against the car, as if a layer of skin disguising the women had been stripped from them. Her face was still at Tara's sex, her tongue still pleasuring her, sensing how close the other woman was.

But still, Tara was reacting. ‘You don't . . . Oh God, you don't have to –'

Cat shut her up with another stab of her tongue, relishing the sensual experience of it all, a part of her sensing the echoes of Priscilla and Kerry, decades before. She let her actions be guided by them, revelling in it almost as much as Tara was, feeling it build, build.

‘Fuck!' Tara's sex spasmed, and she threw her head back as she came against Cat's lips. Or was it Kerry, on Priscilla's lips? Or did it matter at that moment?

The women clutched each other as Cat rose, aware of her own hungers but content for now to take in what was going on.

Tara, however, was not. She slowly turned Cat and herself around until Cat was up against the car now, and Tara slumped to her knees before her, reaching up and unzipping Cat's skirt at the side, lowering it and revealing black stockings and thin black panties.

Cat felt a twinge inside, and looked down at the woman. ‘Tara, our bodies, in real life, are they . . . ?'

Tara nodded, as her cool hands pressed against the inside of Cat's thighs, gently but insistently urging them apart. ‘We can stop at any time.' Then she buried her face against Cat's groin, breathing hotly onto her through the panties and making Cat quiver.

If Cat had any thoughts of stopping this, they had vanished.

She felt her skin flush as Tara's fingers teasingly pulled down the panties, helping one of Cat's legs out of them but leaving the underwear hanging around the other ankle.

Then she returned to Cat's pussy, her hot tongue trailing up and around the edge of her bush and over the slim curve of her belly. Cat let loose a growl as her sex throbbed impatiently, as her hands gripped the edge of the DeLorean.

Tara's tongue dipped, teasingly, playing with the roots of Cat's pubic hair, before grazing silkily along Cat's slit. Cat yelped with electric pleasure, her body writhing and her bare ass rubbing against the car, as Tara's tongue swirled around her cleft, the tip curling up to find and flick against her clit. Her back arched as tight as a piano wire. ‘
Madre de Dios.
'

Tara's tongue jabbed, delved and circled, and her moist hot breath caressed Cat's skin. Cat's hands became fists, which pounded against the stainless steel frame of the car. Tara grabbed her by the hips and jabbed deep into her, suckling on her clit, keeping a steady, tortuous pace, circling, sucking, circling and sucking repeatedly.

Cat came convulsively, her body shaking and slipping off its tenuous perch on the car, landing on her rear, her legs spread obscenely as she gripped Tara. Still riding high on her climax, she began laughing, hugging and kissing Tara, a part of her
still able to see herself as Priscilla in 1981, fucking with Daddy's new toy . . .

. . . ‘Cat?'

Cat looked up at Nathan.

Donnie lay on his berth bed, hands folded behind his head, a wide indulgent grin on his face as he looked up at the woman sitting at his side. ‘Tonight, after the costume party, I'll be inviting Jack along to the Playroom. He likes to tie me up in there, and it's lockable and soundproofed. But tonight, he'll be the one in the chains. Then I'll let you in, and we can begin persuading him to sign the papers.' Her voice was as sweet as honey, catching his full attention.

The hand she had wrapped around his erection, languidly drawing his foreskin up and down, didn't hurt either. ‘Papers, yeah.'

‘Yes, the papers. I've had transfer of ownership papers printed out, and I know the right lawyers in New Orleans to make it legal. But we have to get him to sign over first.'

‘Yeah.' His eyes were beginning to droop, even as his excitement was mounting. Since late last night, they must have fucked, sucked and licked a half-dozen times, each time Faye reinforcing her arguments and refining her – their – plans. It was as if she was conditioning him, eliminating any lingering doubts.

As it happened, she had him at the first orgasm.

‘He's tough, but not that tough,' she continued, her thumb swivelling up to stroke his cockhead, smearing pre-come over the silky surface. She'd suggested just masturbating him rather than have a full fuck, citing her tired muscles, and Donnie couldn't help but agree to it, feeling too lazy for anything more
strenuous. Besides, wasn't he gonna be doing the lion's share of the work tonight, putting the muscle on Wheeler?

‘Do you have a gun?' she asked him, slowing down her stroking motions. ‘Well?'

‘Mmm? No, darling, never needed one.' Which was good, given that Uncle Leo repeatedly refused to let him have one. At first, Donnie thought he was being punished for that time he'd accidentally left the keys in one of Leo's delivery trucks, letting it be stolen. However, Leo had forgiven him for that – after all, it wasn't as if Donnie was just some nameless goon in his mob.

Leo and Donnie's father had been the prime movers in setting up their organisation in Tampa and, though his mother tried to shield him from the realities, the young Donnie had quickly learnt, and quickly warmed to the lifestyle. Especially to Leo, with his cheetah smile and dynamic confidence, and it shamed him those times when he felt even closer to Uncle Leo than his own father. And when Donnie was fourteen, and his dad had been killed in a police raid following a botched bank heist, it was Leo who had taken Donnie and his mother under his wing.

It was a sweet climb. But not without cost. April, for instance. She'd been generous, funny, beautiful.

And unfaithful. Leo, ever careful, had run some background checks, and provided harsh photographic proof of her infidelity. ‘It's a stark lesson,' Leo had told him, with much sympathy, ‘but loyalty is as necessary to us as breathing.'

Donnie couldn't face her; Leo had thoughtfully sent him on an errand, while he sent some of his boys to help April pack up and find someone else. But Leo had been right, such treachery could not be forgiven, and so he had stood his ground and cut her out of his life. She had been good to him, but not as good as Leo had.

And with this woman, this train, he'd get more from his uncle.

Memories of April – and that weird black chick name-dropping her last night – threatened to dampen his mood. Better to push the unfaithful bitch aside. She was history.

Suddenly Faye stopped masturbating him, rising. ‘Hey.'

A look of regret crossed her face. ‘Sorry, stud, but I'm late for a train activity, and I don't want Jack to get suspicious. You don't mind finishing yourself off, do you?'

‘What? You gotta be kidding me, woman.'

She smiled. ‘It's gonna be a hell of a turn-on for me, thinking of you in here, pleasuring yourself. And tonight, once this train is mine, we'll celebrate like we never have before.' She nodded to his waiting cock. ‘Well? Go on.'

He grunted, smiled and reached for his own shaft. He enjoyed her watching him before she departed, determined to come and get some sleep before tonight. And as his pumping increased, he considered how much his fortunes had changed in the last few days: he had a hot woman hungry for him, a chance to take some frustration out on that dickhead Wheeler for looking down on him and the opportunity to make an indelible mark in Uncle Leo's eyes.

Who said crime didn't pay?

Nathan stood at the door to the sauna, the cool air he let in banishing away the images of the boxcar. ‘What the hell is going on?'

Cat froze, as if by the cold air, and she realised she was on the floor of the sauna, naked and sweat-covered with Tara and her wrapped up in each other's limbs, as Tara pulled down their towels from the bench.

Nathan stepped inside, his posture tense as he approached Cat. ‘Are you OK?'

With a sudden rush of acute embarrassment, Cat rose and wrapped the towel around her waist. ‘
Si
, I'm fine. Stop looking at me.'

‘Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you in the privacy of this public place. Come back to the berth, we need to talk.'

‘This is such a flashback to the high school prom.' Tara wrapped her own towel around her, raising a hand in his direction. ‘Mr Ames, perhaps I can explain –'

‘Perhaps not.' He never took his eyes off Cat. ‘Mind your own business. All of you.'

Behind him, the Olivers, looking ready to intervene, stayed silent instead.

Nathan's unprecedented rudeness shook Cat from her lingering waves of euphoria and confusion. ‘Hound, maybe you should calm down and listen –'

‘This
is
me, calm, Agent Montoya.'

It was his deliberate use of Cat's proper title in front of Tara that convinced her to take this elsewhere. She turned to the woman. ‘Sorry about this. I'll try to explain it to him.'

However, Tara appeared unoffended by Nathan's discourtesy, leaning in to whisper, ‘Don't tell, show. And use your anger when it's needed. It's one of your greatest strengths.' Then she drew back and kissed Cat on the lips, a gesture of affection, a reminder of the remarkable sensual experience they had just shared.

There was another caress of cold air as Nathan opened the sauna door again, wiping sweat from his brow. ‘Now.'

In the corridor, she turned to him. ‘My clothes, in that box.'

He glanced down, picked up the box in question and held it, not offering to let her get dressed now. And such was her shock at his responses, that she didn't argue, preferring to make her way as swiftly as possible back to their berth,
ignoring the curious looks from the few passengers they passed, as the storm outside lashed against the train windows. But as she walked back with Nathan directly behind her, her anger overcame her need to stay calm and rational. How dare he talk to her like that, and in front of the others! No matter the provocation, it was uncalled for.

She felt her fury boil within her, and she let it grow, until they were back in the berth, and she spun to face him. ‘
Idiota!
What the fuck was that about? Revealing who I was in front of civilians.'

For his part, Nathan's face seemed to mirror her own ire. ‘Why not? You seemed to be revealing everything else to them in there, and to anyone else who might have come in.'

Embarrassment shot through her, but she took that and converted it to additional fuel for her anger. ‘What's wrong, sorry you weren't invited to watch sooner? I'm not your wife, I'm not your child and I'm not your subordinate. I'm your partner,
comprende
?'

Nathan's scowl never wavered. ‘I know that. And I was proud that you'd be my partner. I'm the one who defended your professionalism to all those dicks back in Miami.'

Cat tightened the towel around her. ‘Give me my clothes.'

He dropped the box at her feet.

‘Now turn around.'

He grunted, but relented. ‘A little late to be showing modesty, don't you think?'

She dropped her towel, reaching for. ‘
Besame el culo!
What was I to wear in a sauna?'

‘Was it hot too when you were fucking Wheeler?'

Cat paused, and then resumed drawing her panties up her thighs. ‘That's not the issue.' She ignored her bra and slacks and slipped into her blouse.

‘Then why keep it hidden from me? Everything hidden?'

His tone suggested knowledge to back this up, and she realised that he had learnt something. However, she remained defensive. ‘Oh? And what the hell else do you think I've been hiding?'

‘A request to Gordy about voodoo spirits, about a fifty-year– old Mob mystery, one that Wheeler is involved in, in some way? Trying to help a known criminal, one you're investigating? Someone who's been secretly monitoring us from the moment we boarded?'