The Song Bird (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Beth D. Carter Page B

whispered.
    Jason took his cock in hand and aimed it at her slit. With one mighty push, he slid into her, going all the way until his full length was buried deep.
    “Ah!” she said with a gasp, arching her back.
    “Avilon?” he asked in concern, starting to pull out.
    She grabbed his ass and surged her hips upward, keeping him impaled inside her. She looked into his concerned eyes. “Take me,” she ordered.
    His cock was filling her, different from Eli’s thicker shaft, but no less as potent. He started out slow, letting her adjust to his weight then easing onto his hands as he angled his hips to thrust faster. In and out his cock worked, deeper and harder as he pushed into her. He grunted as his balls started slapping against her ass.
    “Oh yes,” he moaned. “I can’t last much longer.”
    She brought her hands to her breast and mimicked what Jason had done to her the previous night. She pinched her nipples lightly, then again with a little more pressure. She liked it, the pain increasing the pleasure to where she was joined with Jason. His rhythm started to falter. He was pushing heavily into her, his breathing labored. She saw his face turn red, and just as he cried out, she twisted her nipple hard and instantly joined him.
    She shattered apart and went flying. She felt his body jerk sporadically against her. When he slumped against her, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in tight. She felt his heart hammering against her chest, his sweat dripping onto her own soaked body.
    “Jesus, Avilon,” he managed to say between gulps of air. “I’ve never felt like that before.”
    “Shh,” she soothed. “You don’t have to say anything.”
    “Do you think I say those words lightly? That I utter them every time I have an orgasm?”
    She didn’t say anything, and he gave a heartfelt sigh. He squeezed her tightly. “Listen, I know you haven’t demanded payment for your songs the past two weeks,” he said as he ran a hand up her arm.
    “Truthfully, I don’t know what to ask next.” She took a deep breath. “I went to the sheriff, wondering if there had been a woman matching Amelia’s description whose body had gone unclaimed. But as soon as he found out she was one of Eli’s upstairs girls, he dismissed me immediately.”
    “I’m not surprised,” Jason replied. “David Scannell’s term as sheriff has been mainly about how much he can skim off the gamblers in the area. He’s friends with a man named Cora.”
    “You don’t like this man?”
    Jason shrugged as he levered himself off her to sit up. “James King writes some enlightened pieces on Scannell and Cora in his paper. Who knows how much of it is true.”
    “Well, he wasn’t as awful as that Mr. Behr.”
    He flashed a stern look. “If Behr ever comes near you again, you let me know. Okay?”
    She nodded, and he relaxed.
    “Anyway, I thought I’d take you to the accountant’s office so you could look up the girls who were working six months ago. Perhaps you’ll recognize a name.”
    She sat up next to him. “Thank you, Jason.”
    He picked up her hand and entwined their fingers. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up. We’ll take a hackney cab to the office.”
     
    * * * *
     
    The ride to the accountant’s office was short. They traveled out of Sydney Town heading west, passing from the more sinister aspect of the city to an area where a row of normal-looking businesses stood. She saw a baker, a butcher, a button maker, a shoe store, and the accountant’s office.
    Jason helped her down and made arrangements for the cab to stay for their return trip before opening the door to the office.
    “Mr. Braddock,” greeted the proprietor, a small, round man. Literally. His bald, round head rested on his rounding shoulders, which led to his round body.
    “Hello, Mr. Pintari. This is Miss Chambert.”
    Mr. Pintari nodded his head politely. “How can I help you?”
    “I need the accounting ledger from October.”
    “Right