Page 75 of Whistleblower

“How much were you making?”

Instinctively, I flinch. I used to lie about my salary to men I dated. Even my boyfriend of eight months never knew I out earned him tenfold. I didn’t want to be taken advantage of or start a pissing competition, so it was easier to omit the truth. But Linc’s a different breed of man.

“At my peak? A little north of a quarter million, annually.”

Linc takes another long sip from his glass. “Then yes, in comparison, I’m rich,” he says before a sexy smile takes over his face. “Why? Are you looking for a sugar daddy? Because I’m open to it. I’ll buy you all the pretty things you want. Just keep wearing dresses like this and doing that thing with your mouth that I like.” He chuckles at his joke before setting his wine glass down on the leather-top coffee table. His hand creeps up my thigh, pushing the hem of my dress upward. I’m undecided amidst the growing heat between my thighs and my inescapable curiosity. I should just shut up and kiss him…

“I was just wondering what the going rate is for taking someone’s life?”

Linc’s hand freezes in place. Dammit, Eden. You and your big mouth. Removing his hand from my thigh, he sits back on the couch. He’s silent. I sip from my glass just to have something to do. I swirl around the tart, crisp white wine in my mouth until it goes warm and I have to swallow. It’s not until I take another sip, that he speaks.

“It depends on the benefactor. But it’s more complicated than getting paid for a hit. The money goes through the house first—it gets pooled for family needs.”

“I’m sorry, what? Family needs...? Like groceries?” I can’t help but smirk at his bizarre response.

“No, Eden.” Linc sighs in exasperation. “I mean like the time we had to pay a foreign dictator over forty million dollars to release Lance from torture after he fucked his wife. ‘Supposedly,’ he didn’t know who she was.” Linc’s pointed stare tells me he doesn’t believe that for one second.

“I want to say I’m surprised…but it’s Lance, so…”

“Right,” he says, chuckling. “Anyway, all the money logistics go through Vesper. I don’t make deals, so I can’t give you a dollar amount. Something’s changed since the FBI took over, but again, I don’t handle the money outside of recovering funds from closed accounts.”

“Closed accounts?” I bring the glass to my lips, but I don’t sip. I’m too transfixed with anticipation.

“Deceased colleagues. Usually, they keep emergency reserves somewhere in their residences.”

I sputter, choking briefly on my own spit that went down the wrong pipe. My blood begins to bubble in agitation and I can’t control my outburst. “You rob your dead cohorts? Are you kidding me?”

“Rob?” Linc asks, looking offended.

Slamming my glass on the table, I stare Linc dead in the eyes. “After I exposed Empress, the company sued me, threatening to put me in jail for breach of confidentiality. The FBI was building their case and couldn’t help me in the interim. The whistleblower association couldn’t do anything because they protect against intracompany retaliation. Empress was no longer a company, so there was nothing they could do.

“I had to lawyer up immediately. And I’m not talking about public defenders. I needed the best defense to go up against their corporate lawyers and they were not cheap. The money my dad left me when he passed paid for the top legal minds of Silicon Valley, and I owe him everything for it. To think you’re depriving the families of your comrades of—”

“Eden,” Linc interrupts me. He squeezes my knee gently, which is what catches me off guard—every time. When I cross the line I expect to be met with anger, instead all he shows is…tenderness. “We don’t have next of kin. Our parents have either passed or think we’re dead. PALADIN is the only family we have. Are we supposed to be buried with our cash?”

My stomach cramps as if someone is grabbing a handful of my intestines and twisting their fist. I drop my head in shame. “I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot. I’ll shut up now.” Pouting at my own insensitivity, I swivel the wine in my glass. I can feel his eyes on me but I don’t look up.

Linc grabs my glass and sets it aside. Leaning into me, he finds my lips with his, but I can hardly commit to the kiss.

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t want answers to, Bambi, because I’m not going to lie to you,” he says, softly. “But you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Thank you for—”

He interrupts me by shoving his thumb into my mouth. “What did I tell you about saying thank you for the rest of the evening?” I’d tell him that I’d used my last one at the restaurant, but his thumb still fills my mouth, making it impossible to talk. “Suck,” he commands. I do, and when he pulls his thumb back out it’s wet with my saliva.

Grabbing my hips, Linc pulls me into a lying position on his couch. He pushes the hem of my dress all the way up and yanks my lacy thong to the side. My pretty black underwear is an overcompensation from my plain comfort cotton panties he saw at our last encounter.

I groan in pleasure as he begins to rub small circles against my clit with his wet thumb. I clamp my eyes shut, and grasp my bottom lip with my top teeth, enjoying the pressure that begins to build.

“You’re going to want to thank me all night long.” He slides his thumb down my crease and teases my entrance. His thumb easily slicks over my slit. I’m already wet. Lately, I’m always wet and wanting. I wait, then buck my hips with perfect timing, forcing the tip of his thumb to barely penetrate me. I groan like I’m in agony as I open my eyes and see his sly smile. “But try to resist.”

“Please, just this once, don’t make me wait,” I beg. “Then, the rest of the night is yours.”

He kisses me while he trades fingers, and slinks his longest finger into me. I cry into his mouth as his tongue dances over mine. When his knuckle presses against my clit, everything inside me is jolted awake. He pumps his finger slowly, purposely toying with me. I beg for my release but judging from the wet sloshing sounds as his finger slides in and out, I’m really enjoying the teasing. My nipples are hard and aching, barely shielded by my lace bra and thin dress. I press them into Linc’s warm chest as I arch my back, trying to withstand the slow torment he’s unleashing upon me. I want his thick cock so bad, but I also could die happy in this anticipatory torture. It’s so damn good. I don’t know which way to go—suspending in pleasure as long as I can or exploding in relief.

This…

This is why I want Linc in control.

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