A Leap in the Dark (Assassins of Youth MC Book 2) (18 page)

He took Lazarus and me to a stand of aspens. Tying the wet dog to a tree, Levon took me to a sandy area. He sat on a flat rock, but gripped me by the waist by way of telling me to stand. All I could think of was
punishment? Is this another one of his BDSM scenes?
I was correct.

“Take off your shirt.” I did, still shy about my lack of endowment. My bras were all like a pubescent girl’s. I could maybe fill a B cup some of the time, but that was about it. “Unhook your bra too.”

When I did so, tossing it in a pile with the sweater, he dove in to lap away at my nipples. I was highly ticklish, and it made me giggle and hold onto his head, stabbing my fingers through his soft brown hair.

This is punishment? I can handle this.

I squirmed with delight and anxiety. Each pass of his squiggly tongue sent arrows of pleasure and pain mixed shooting to my pussy. Was this a new form of orgasm denial? The idea that we could easily be seen from the river had a fresh rush of excitement coursing through me. It thrilled me to know that anyone who went down to the river for a drink or the view would see Levon lapping away at my tits. Women would long to be me. Men would long to be Levon.

It didn’t last long.

Pulling away, Levon said sternly, “You’ve been bad. You disobeyed me by coming down here without permission.” He took something from a cut pocket. A sudden sting to my nipple told me he’d clamped something there. A clothespin. The combined pleasure and pain just intensified tenfold. He clipped the other nipple. I gasped at the electrical charges that took my mind off any sensation elsewhere on my body. Glancing down, I saw that I looked like a bondage model in my tight leather pants and cowgirl boots with turquoise insets.

Even worse, Levon pinched the pins with his fingers, making me cry out. “You don’t like this? Maybe you’ll think twice next time you take off without telling me.”

“I’m sorry!” I cried. Instinctively I knew how to play the game. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be yet, but I knew Levon was the master and I was the pawn. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong! Look, there’s someone coming!”

Levon didn’t even look. Either I was an unconvincing actress, or he truly didn’t care if anyone saw us. Either way, when he yanked my arm and shoved me facedown onto his lap, he had an erection that could be seen on a radar screen. When I squirmed, I rubbed my mound of Venus against it.

“You’re lying,” he said menacingly, sliding his hand across my belly. “There’s no one there. You know what I do to liars?”

“Um…” I really didn’t know. “You take their pants off?”
Liar, liar, pants on fire
. I thought of Ladell Pratt, whose pants really
had
been on fire, and I stifled a giggle.

Levon yanked hard on my belt loop. He had to—my pants were
that
tight. I squiggled around to allow him to yank them to my knees, exposing my ass to the trees above.

Now, my ass isn’t where I’m lacking. I’m pretty ample in that department. So I didn’t mind having my behind bared to his view—and his hand, as it turned out. He smacked me loudly right on the cheek. I squeaked, but the resulting warmth of the sting spread through my pelvis. Like a fast-acting drug, already I wanted more. So I squirmed attractively.

He gratified me by spanking me several more times. “This—is what you—get for—disobeying me!”

“Oh, please!” I pretended I hated it. “Please don’t punish me anymore! I know I was bad. I won’t do it again!”

Lazarus barked. Maybe he thought Levon was really hurting me. But he must’ve witnessed scenes like this many a time!

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” growled Levon. Now he pulled my panties down, rubbing his hand with admiration over the globe of my ass. “Nice and pink. But not nearly red enough.”

“No!” I squealed.

Now after a slap, Levon would allow his fingers to trail into my ass crack.
Oh, no. Not the ass
. But his fingers traveled farther, right into my slit. That’s when I realized I was wet. The spanking had made me juicier than an orange, and his fingers parted me like sections of an orange.

He tickled my slit as though getting his fingers wet for—
oh, no. Not the ass.
No anal stuff.
Again I was thankfully wrong. He used the slickness to lubricate my clit, already pulsating and lengthening eagerly.

And he talked. Boy, did he talk. He’d played this game before. “My little lamb is getting hot when I spank her. Is this making you hot, my little lamb? Sure is making me hot. Can you feel my hard-on against your pussy? You’ve been a bad, bad lamb.”

“Oh! Is that your penis?” I took on an innocent voice. “I didn’t know penises could get so big.”

Slap! Slap!
Each spanking was accompanied by a swipe over my clit with his fingers. Soon I was genuinely squirming with frustration and lust, spreading my legs to give him access. “You’ve never been around a man’s big dick. Just those infantile schoolboys you play with. Before I’m done I’m gonna be sliding this big prick into your little lamb’s pussy.”

Was he serious? We still hadn’t fucked—sort of savoring it for later, I think. There was enough to do without fucking, the glorious push and pull of toying with each other. We were stimulating each other to such heights it would be a wonder we didn’t spontaneously combust when we finally fucked. But I didn’t think it would happen in a sandy grove by the aptly named Virgin River.

“Oh, master!” I knew I sounded like the genie in I Dream of Jeannie, but I couldn’t think of what else to call him. I’d never seen
Fifty Shades of Grey
. That shit didn’t play in Utah. “You haven’t punished me nearly enough for what I did!”

“So you agree with me.”
Slap! Slap!
“You know you’ve done bad, but you do it anyway to get punished.”

“Because I”—
Slap!
—“enjoy the punishment.” It was like trying to talk while hiccupping. Only way more fun.

“You do? Maybe I should withhold it, then, as a further punishment.” His hand went still, his palm lying across my blazing bum.

“No! I mean yes! I mean—” I didn’t know what I meant. Hormones had slammed shut the door to rational thought. I just wanted his fingers back on my clit.

Levon answered my prayers, strumming my clit again. My thighs were now so far apart I had to balance on my fingertips in the sand. “Only little lambs who follow commands get to experience the final bliss of orgas—
whoa
.”

“What?” I raised my head on a weary neck. Lazarus was barking up a storm now. Levon’s fingers had stilled again, and he looked at a distant spot beyond my shoulder. I cranked my head around.

“Oh, that’s just Dingo. He’s just come down to pee. Or something. Don’t stop!”

Dingo was looking around with a funny expression. And it wasn’t the funny expression of someone who had just seen two adults engage in edgeplay.

“
Wait
,” Levon whispered. He tried to get to his feet while lifting me with his hands encircling my waist. “Something’s wrong.”

Standing, I struggled to pull up my pants. “I’ll say. I didn’t get to come. Why let Dingo stop us?”

“No, I mean something’s wrong with Dingo. Here’s your bra. I can tell. I’ve developed this sixth sense for knowing when something is off with my fellow men.
Dingo!
”

Spying us, Dingo broke into a run. Or as fast as he could dash in sneakers in sand.

“Thanks a lot! I haven’t even gotten my bra hooked!” I was that sort of irritable you get when you aren’t able to complete an orgasm. Bad. Irritable. Downright nasty.

“Lazarus!” Dingo said first, rushing to the dog.

“I’m over here,” said Levon.

Dingo looked at us. I was just scrabbling to get my arms into my sweater. “Oh! Listen Levon, you’ve got to get back up right away. Dust Bunny just got a call from the security guard at his mine.”

“What happened?”

“I should let him tell you.”

“No. Spit it out.” Levon was arranging his erection inside his jeans. Casually, as though Dingo were one of his men and they did that in front of each other all the time.

Dingo looked at me. “He caught some guys wearing masks trying to scale the fence to get inside the property, over by the Streaked Wall Bench.”

Levon looked confused at first. Then realization seemed to dawn on him. “The Streaked Wall Bench? They were trying to break
in
—”

“To steal bodies, yes, that’s what Dust Bunny thinks.”

I unlashed Lazarus from the tree. Levon could barely stand waiting for me, he was so antsy to get back up top. “Come on, come on, come on,” he kept saying nervously.

I jogged to keep up. “You think they were trying to steal Kenyon Stout’s body so you have nothing as evidence?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. But don’t forget—we don’t know it’s Kenyon Stout yet.”

“Oh, they know, all right,” said Dingo. “Dust Bunny just got word from his lab, too. It’s definitely Kenyon Stout.”

“Oh, Lord,” muttered Levon as we jogged up the path.

I knew what he was thinking. That Deloy would be especially fragile once he heard news that his boyfriend not only had been prostituted and murdered, but tossed into a mine on top of a dozen other bodies of unwanted Cornucopia men. Once we scaled the lip of the hill, I searched around for Deloy. I couldn’t see him at first, so I followed Levon and Dingo over to the knot of men around Dust Bunny. This consisted of only Assassins of Youth men, since it was Assassins business. The other clubs respected that, and backed off.

Levon was asking Dust Bunny, “They just
now
tried to break in? Or tried last night?”

“Just now. Maybe they assumed because it’s a Sunday no one would be there.”

Gideon told Levon, “Our man shot at them when they were nearly to the top of the fence. He thinks he nailed one of them, but all three got away. If you’re wondering about video, we’re already on it. Our man’s getting it to us right now.”

Levon nodded. “There are so many suspects it’d be nice to ID one of them.”

Dust Bunny snorted. “Basically everyone inside Cornucopia’s a suspect.”

“Or outside,” said Sledgehammer. “Ladell Pratt still has half of Avalanche in his back pocket. Could be the Chief of Police, Director of Public Works, Community Development Director—anyone. And they were all masked.”

“That asshole who owns the news stand,” added Dingo.

“Or the motherfucker who runs the sanitary plant,” said Yosemite Sam.

“The jackoff who owns the hardware store.” I added my own suspect. I knew I wasn’t supposed to listen in to club business, but this involved Deloy, my de facto son. I think everyone understood that.

Dingo’s phone chimed. When he took it from its holster, he frowned at it and began wandering away.

“The assmuncher who owns the movie theater,” added Gideon. “I hate that douche.”

“I’ve always suspected that twatwaffle who runs the insurance company,” said Dust Bunny. He suspected everyone of everything. “He’s got photos of two different women on his desk.”

Yosemite Sam said, “I saw the guy who owns Lupe’s Tacos buying two bouquets of flowers.”

Sledgehammer scoffed. “A Mexican? Why would a Mexican be a fundy? They’re Catholics.”

Yosemite Sam shrugged. “Maybe he likes the fringe benefits?”

Now Levon’s phone chimed. He glanced at it with disinterest first, but did a classic double take, and looked again with alarm. I was about to wander around and look for Deloy when Dingo called over to Levon,

“Look at your phone.”

Levon’s face was screwed up. I couldn’t tell if it was with distaste, shock, or fear. Or all three. He kept tapping his phone with his thumb. “
Instagram?
” he said. “I don’t even fucking
have
Instagram. Isn’t that for kids? I’ve been checking YouTube.” The tapping turned to bashing as he became frustrated.

“Here,” said Dingo, handing him his own phone. “Check mine.”

“What is this?” Dust Bunny looked around Levon’s arm as he watched a video. I couldn’t tell what it was from the tiny screen.

Dingo told the men, “We should have expected that Ladell Pratt wasn’t going to sit still for having his hoverboard explode and his pants catch on fire. I’m sorry, Levon, if I drove Pratt to do this.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Levon remotely, not taking his eyes from the phone. “I would’ve blown up his hoverboard too if I knew how.”

Behind him, Dust Bunny seemed to be cringing. “Oh, man! That’s harsh, Levon. Sorry about that.”

Other men crowded to watch the video, but apparently Levon had had enough of it. He thrust the phone back at Dingo, shoving it into his chest before breaking free of the cluster of men. “Deloy!” he yelled.

“I’ll find him,” I said, at last having a chance to be helpful.

“I’ll help you,” said Dingo.

We walked toward Maximus and the video cameras. The band was taking a break from pretending to sing. They all stood around smoking cigarettes and probably joints. Deloy wasn’t in sight.

“What was the video?” I asked Dingo.

“I guess you’ll find out anyway. Do you Instagram?”

“No. Deloy does. Levon’s right—it’s for kids.”

“Let’s just say we’ve been waiting for this. Pratt’s been threatening Levon with it for a while.”

“Let me see.”

“No.”

“
Let me see
. Is it a video of Deloy?”

“No.”

“Is it a video of—” My heart dropped into my boots. I said in a hushed voice, “It’s a video of Levon.”

Dingo could not have looked more uncomfortable. He looked everywhere but at me. “Yes.”

“Levon…” I trailed off. Obviously, Levon was doing something shameful in the video.

All in a rush, Dingo explained quickly. “It’s Levon having his dick sucked. Now let’s go find Deloy.”

“But how did Pratt get ahold of a video like—” I stopped, letting Dingo get away from me.

It hit me in a rush. The only way Pratt could have gotten a video like that is if he was there filming it.