Faith's Revenge (New Reality Series, Book Four) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Faith’s Revenge Copyright © 2013 Suzanne Graham and Michael Graham

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Also Available from Resplendence Publishing

  www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Faith’s Revenge

  A New Reality Story

  By Suzanne Graham and

  Michael Graham

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Faith’s Revenge

  Copyright © 2013 Suzanne Graham and Michael Graham

  Edited by Delaney Sullivan and Caitlin Green

  Cover Art by Les Byerley

  Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349

  Daytona Beach, FL 32118

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-662-2

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic Release: June 2013

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  From Suzanne to Michael, you’ve been an amazing co-author.

  I truly couldn’t have done it without you.

  Thank you, my friend.

  From Michael to Suzanne, thank you for showing me how to write every day.

  Thank you, my friend.

  Chapter One

  New Washington, D.C., 2169

  Faith Daniels placed her hand on Trake’s shoulder and leaned over, giving him ample opportunity to smell her pheromone laced perfume. Her blonde hair slowly fell forward and brushed against his dark skin as she arranged the flimsies on the desk in front of him. The plastic, bendable documents contained the electronic data he’d requested concerning the recent supply shipments to the military outpost on the moon.

  As Deputy Director of Military Transportation for New Washington, D.C., Trake Forrester stiffened slightly at the unnecessary contact from his office assistant, but otherwise acted as if there was nothing unusual happening. He’d had his eye on her the entire year she’d been working for him, and he wasn’t above accepting some unsolicited touching, knowing this was as far as it could ever go between them.

  “As always, if you need anything…” she said as she straightened.

  “That’s it for now,” he responded without lifting his eyes. He was tempted enough by her sensual scent and the warmth of her body so near his; he didn’t need to add any visual stimulation.

  When silence settled between them and she didn’t make a move to leave the office, he was lured into glancing up at her.

  Seemingly distracted by other thoughts, she tossed back her shoulder-length hair and tugged down her blouse, stretching it tight across her D-cup breasts. She smoothed her short, black business skirt over her ample hips as she met his eyes with her cool blue ones.

  Yes, he got all that, and it was enough to ensure he wouldn’t be getting up from his desk until she left his office.

  Some women might be uncomfortable in that body of hers. But twenty-eight-year-old Faith seemed to have the confidence of a woman who’d pleased many men with her curvy build. It was obvious this woman knew how to use what she’d been blessed with by genetics. He liked her womanly figure. Yes, he liked his women thick, but it wasn’t just that; he liked her bearing.

  Without another word, she stepped away from his desk and exited his office with an extra sway to her hips.

  Hard and irritated, Trake ran a hand over his short hair. Only in his early thirties, he absentmindedly noticed his hairline was showing signs of receding, but why should it matter? Just this very morning, he’d thought of placing his service pistol in his mouth and pulling the trigger. When he’d tried to come up with something to look forward to in his miserable day, he’d thought of her…Faith.

  She always had a smile for him, and due to her warmth and affection, she was well liked by everyone in the office. Was he fooling himself into thinking she had a bit more affection for him particularly, or was it just because he was her boss? He knew he was attracted to her, even though he could never have her.

  She was a bit younger than he, but her eyes seemed twice as old, even as they shone with her innate kindness. That was Faith’s way, concerned about others. Most days she would see how stressed he was and try to cheer him up with a small comment or a compliment, and it usually worked. She was willing to listen when he couldn’t hold back and vented his frustrations.

  Yesterday, she’d asked for a favor, and now, she awaited his reply. He knew he’d give in to her request because she was concerned for her brother, which further strengthened his resolve to not hurt her.

  The problem wasn’t when, but how. How could he find information on her recently arrested brother’s whereabouts without raising suspicion?

  Glancing out his office door, he watched the answer to the question come strolling into the large government office—Deja Cain of the Cain dynasty and Senior Director of the Marshall’s office—in her sexy skirt and glittering jewels. As usual, the expression on her beautiful dark brown face was confident and fierce.

  “Hello, fiancée,” Trake said to Deja in a singsong voice as she closed his office door. Their relationship was a lie, a shield for Deja to hide behind so she’d be less likely to get hauled before the Morality Courts for deviant behavior. Being able to express her true sexual nature had been outlawed shortly after the nuclear destruction of the original United States.

  He glanced down at his desk. The flimsies were untouched, exactly where Faith had left them. This is not the way to ask for something. He chided himself. When he raised his head to meet Deja’s eyes, her usual fierce gaze didn’t surprise him.

  But something had changed in him this morning. He was tired—tired of being tough, of acting tough. He was also tired of his fake engagement with Deja. However, now was not the best time to end it.

  “Are we going to do this, Trake?” she asked in a silky, cultured voice as she glided toward a chair facing his desk.

  Saying his name was a nice touch, he thought. It still moved him deep inside. There had been a time when he’d loved her…that was before.

  “What, your request?” he said in a mocking tone as she regally sat. “Why, Deja, we would be arrested as deviants and given an unlimited sentence in the labor camps.” He sat back in his seat and considered her.

  She adjusted her position in her chair as if she didn’t plan on leaving until she was ready. “I can make the arrangements, if you…can’t,” Deja said, contempt dripping from her words.

  Trake stood suddenly and walked around to the front of his desk. Settling against the edge, he bent down close to Deja’s face.

  She turned her cheek to him as if she expected he was about to slap her. A smile quirked her lips. Prove to me you’re not weak, she seemed to say.

  In New D.C., to be weak was to die. Since the last great nuclear war over a hundred years ago, New Washington D.C. had survi
ved mostly due to its harsh military monarchy.

  Trake considered Deja for a long moment then straightened with a sigh. “As your luck would have it, you have something she wants.”

  Startled, Deja leaned forward with a frown. “Huh?” she responded uncharacteristically.

  Trake and Deja had played many times over the years, always at her insistence. Many inducements had been made, sometimes money, sometimes blackmail. Mostly money and Trake always handled it. Never had there been something Deja could personally provide.

  “Let’s have her ask you herself, shall we?” he said, enjoying Deja’s discomfort as he touched his ear and engaged his personal comm bud to summon Faith.

  Trake’s voluptuous assistant opened the door and strolled into his private office as the main floor behind her rapidly emptied at the end of the workday.

  “You called?” Faith closed the door as she addressed Trake.

  Deja looked at Trake with soft eyes as if she knew how much he liked Faith and how impossible it was for him pursue her. As his closest friend, Deja could read Trake nearly as well as he could read her.

  Turning to Faith, Trake watched Deja’s eyes dilate with desire as she raked her gaze over the other woman. A desire Trake knew Deja would never have for him no matter how much they loved each other.

  It was apparent Faith knew what was about to happen. She’d asked for this favor, and it wasn’t a secret what the exchange of information would cost. Regretfully, Trake knew this would only be a one-time scene.

  She glanced between him and Deja. Like all Aristos, they were dark-skinned. It was the sign they were descendants perhaps of the original leaders of the rebellion who had established New Washington D.C. Trake suspected that if Faith were capable of hating people, she would hate all Aristos. Their dehumanizing aristocracy made life hell for the remaining citizens and non-citizen immigrants such as herself.

  Trake’s gut soured at the thought of Faith being misused. He wasn’t a willing participant in this brutal regime they lived under, and lately, he was barely able to make it through the day. He liked to think he was a good man, doing everything he could to be fair and just with the decisions he made, but following orders that unraveled his moral fiber was killing him.

  Now, Faith had been brought to the point where she was willing to do anything to get her brother out of custody, including using her body for answers.

  Glancing at Deja, Faith seemed to be considering the other woman as Deja hungrily stared back at her.

  Due to so much intermarrying among a small number of families, the saying was you could always identify Aristos because they were either incredibly beautiful or incredibly ugly.

  Deja, with her high cheekbones and large brown eyes, was one of the incredibly beautiful. She was trim in figure, but not skinny, with a perfect athletic body and a tight behind. Her medium-sized chest showed just a hint of cleavage under her expensive blouse, but she didn’t possess the attributes that really fired Trake’s blood, not like Faith did.

  His relationship with her would never be the same after this, as much as an Aristo and an immigrant could have a relationship. She was only asking for information about her brother, but Trake would do whatever he could to help get Collin free.

  No more hurting, no more evil, no more pain, Trake thought to himself. He held up a hand-sized white disk. “Take this,” he ordered Faith.

  She crossed the floor to him, ignoring Deja, and took the disk. Turning it over in her hand, she examined the master key as comprehension slowly spread across her face. “You want me to lock your door?”

  “Only if you want to,” he responded without emotion, allowing the resulting silence to hang in the air. “Deja will give you the information you seek.”

  Deja quickly turned to Trake. Her lower jaw dropped open briefly until she regained her composure and closed it.

  Faith raised an eyebrow as she studied Deja speculatively.

  For a moment, irritation creased Deja’s brow as she seemed to shift uncomfortably in her chair. The expression was quickly replaced by a confident, condescending smile she beamed at Faith.

  Faith looked toward Trake and nodded her head slightly in understanding. Then, with the sexiest walk he’d ever seen, she strode to the door. When she finished locking it with her palm, she turned toward the two Aristos waiting expectantly.

  Deja leaned back slightly in her chair as she glanced toward Trake.

  He returned her look with a level gaze. The ball is in your court, but be careful you don’t go too far.

  Turning toward Faith, Deja took a deep breath, and her eyes glazed over as her obvious excitement rose inside her. She slowly licked her lips.

  Like a drug addict about to get her fix, Trake thought.

  Deja hadn’t even bothered to ask what information Faith would need her to provide, and he couldn’t help feeling sorry for his closest friend. She was willing to barter anything to have her real pleasure fulfilled. Even then, the encounters could only transpire a handful of times per year and always with excessive effort.

  A single encounter could be denied, but a relationship could be used as blackmail, so Deja could play with each woman only one time. If he had his choice, Trake would rather have Deja play without him. However, the balance of trust was maintained between them when they played together, risking the threat of the Royal Morality Courts equally as participants in illegal sexual relationships.

  Deja clenched her hands into fists as if she wanted to run her fingers over Faith’s creamy white skin, but was denying herself. “Strip,” Deja commanded.

  After a brief pause, Faith undid her blouse, her hands working the buttons in a practiced motion.

  Trake knew Deja’s script well, and the initial request for the woman to strip was usually the most awkward part. The woman was sometimes reduced to tears. If that happened this time, Trake would put a stop to it. No more hurting, no more evil, no more pain had become his new mantra.

  Faith however was calm as she allowed her blouse to fall to the floor, and Trake was struck by the thought she might be a professional sex worker, but he quickly dismissed the idea.

  Faith was an office clerk, an immigrant from the Southern New Confederate, which was always fighting some civil war and sending its refugees north to live in the ghettos of New D.C. Perhaps she’d performed sex for pay in the past; she wouldn’t have been the first person in her situation to do so, or the last.

  Deja slowly rubbed her own thigh with one hand as if in a trance.

  Trake crossed his arms and relaxed in his chair as he watched the scene unfold before him.

  Usually, Deja had the woman walk around naked for a bit then instructed her to lay on her back as Deja performed oral sex on her. The willing ones would then pleasure Deja with oral sex. A few times Trake had been requested to participate.

  Faith looked straight ahead as she finished undressing, dropping her skirt to the floor. Her skin was pale white, her sex covered in neatly trimmed dark blonde hair.

  Then Faith turned her eyes to Deja…and smiled.

  Deja’s head jerked back in surprise, but she quickly recovered her composure. Trake was also startled at the unexpected gesture by Faith. With this sort of arrangement, play meant a sexual release, a business arrangement. Yes, you might lick or nibble, but you never kissed, and you never ever smiled.

  Soon, Faith would have what she wanted. She’d be one step closer to freeing Collin. She would do anything to get her brother released, but she had to admit this plan didn’t require her to do something she wouldn’t otherwise want to do…eagerly.

  Faith looked at Deja, seeing a scared girl trying to act tough. She couldn’t deny her compassion for the woman who couldn’t help her natural desires. Would Deja still use intimidation and blackmail if she had a choice to express herself openly?

  Faith didn’t think so. For herself, with her equal desires for men and woman, Faith knew she would have eagerly slept with Deja if it had been allowed. There was much for Faith to ad
mire, including the woman’s fierce beauty and her barely restrained power evident in the tight way she held herself.

  Deja’s eyes changed, squinting in anger, and Faith realized her mistake. Deja wouldn’t accept the pity she’d seen in Faith’s eyes.

  Deja would probably be rough with her now, but Faith could handle it. She’d been through more than this woman could ever dish out, and Trake would never let things go too far. She was certain of that. Besides, she enjoyed playing the sub role.

  “Get on your knees,” Deja demanded as she stood with a scowl crossing her face.

  Faith assumed her practiced look, blank and subservient, as she slowly lowered herself to the floor, wet heat gathering between her legs.

  Deja stood three feet away, facing Faith. The beautiful Aristo tugged up her skirt, pulled down her panties, and stepped out of them. “Hands up behind your head.”

  Faith immediately crossed her wrists behind her head in a motion she’d mastered long ago.

  A smile crept across Deja’s face, and she turned to Trake who sat motionless in his chair. “Your little girlfriend has done this before it seems.”

  Trake rubbed his chin as he seemed to consider Deja’s remark about his “girlfriend”, but they all knew the impossibility of that. The Aristo didn’t mix with the poor immigrants, which was why Faith would never get to explore her feelings for her boss.

  Focusing on Faith again, Deja commanded, “Crawl to me,” while idly rubbing her right index finger through her short black hairs to the folds of her vagina.

  Faith slowly lifted one knee at a time as she shuffled forward. She could smell the heat of Deja’s sex as her face hovered just inches away. Deja’s wetness gleamed as she slowly masturbated herself. Her legs were slightly trembling, and Faith wondered if Deja would be able to remain standing.