My Infinite Investment System

"You called me Mr. Keller after swallowing my cum," he said.

Mika released his wrist while warehouse powder covered her hair, jacket, and black lashes, making the color beneath her cheekbones impossible to miss.

Nia pushed the last containment cage through the emergency shutter without turning around, leaving the gate clerk intensely interested in paperwork.

’Maybe directness has a dosage limit,’ he thought, lowering the bleeding arm, ’I have exceeded it in a government facility.’

She looked toward the clerk and said, "We are discussing this somewhere that doesn’t smell like monster blood."

"That removes most of our available property."

Her eyes returned to him.

The bad joke failed, but it loosened something around her mouth.

Forty minutes later, rain struck Northstar’s surviving windows while Nia worked behind the west wall, each turn of her wrench carrying through the floor.

Ryan sat on the old DJ platform with his sleeve cut away and three shallow wounds sealed beneath medical strips.

The booth smelled like antiseptic, wet dust, and the faint cinnamon gum the clerk had pressed into his hand during discharge.

Mika stood between his knees while her phone vibrated inside her jacket, ignoring it as she cleaned powder from his jaw with a damp cloth.

"I wasn’t trying to erase it," she said, folding the cloth into a smaller square, "I was trying to stop it from becoming part of the contract."

He watched her hands and asked, "Which contract?"

"The one where you save my career with money I cannot understand, then I do something sexual six hours later."

Her fingers stopped folding, and the stillness carried more fear than the butcher beast had.

She stared at the cloth and said, "I woke up afraid I wanted you because I needed you, so I made everything cold before you could use it."

He rested both palms against the platform and asked, "Did you think I would?"

She finally looked up.

"I thought everybody eventually does."

The answer landed without performance, too plain for either of them to dodge.

’She expected an invoice,’ he thought, ’and I spent two days punishing her for being afraid of one.’

He moved one hand from the platform, then stopped before touching her.

"The regulator bought nothing from you," he said, keeping the sentence slow, "not a kiss, not the office, not tonight, not one softer answer during a guild vote."

Her eyes dropped to his open hand as she asked, "And the office?"

He curled his fingers toward his palm and answered, "Bought nothing from me."

She pressed the folded cloth against his knee and said, "You were angry."

He looked at her rather than the cloth and replied, "I was hurt."

She pressed her lips flat, but no joke arrived to cover the distinction.

He turned his palm upward and said, "You can want me, regret it, want me again, or tell me never to touch you, none of those decisions change who owns the regulator."

She put her hand in his.

Her fingers were colder than the rain against the windows.

"I don’t regret it," she said.

He closed his hand carefully and asked, "Which part?"

The eye roll began, reached halfway, then failed when she saw he needed the answer.

"Your mouth is about to become a problem," she said, stepping between his knees until their thighs touched.

He held her gaze and said, "That is still not an answer."

She kissed him before he could ask again.

No emergency powered the contact this time.

Her mouth began cautious, almost formal, then opened when his uninjured hand settled against the back of her waist.

She tasted like rain and the mint rinse from the gate clinic.

The phone vibrated again.

She broke the kiss, removed it from her jacket, and placed it face down beneath the DJ console.

"No cameras," she said.

He watched her lock the booth door and answered, "No debt."

She returned to him, caught his lower lip between her teeth, then released it with a private smile.

"Stay."

’She said stay,’ he thought, ’not pay, fix, prove, or save.’

His shoulders lowered.

He stood from the platform, reversing their height for one moment, and asked, "Can I touch you because you want me to?"

She took his hand, placed it beneath her jacket against the bare curve of her waist, and said, "Yes."

He kissed her once, then moved down her throat while opening the jacket slowly enough for her to stop him.

The regulator remained secured beneath her left ribs.

He avoided the strap, followed the warm skin below it, then knelt when his mouth reached the waistband of her leggings.

Her breath changed above him.

"You look very comfortable down there," she said, threading one hand into his hair.

He looked up and replied, "I’m making a professional recovery assessment."

"You are on your knees."

"The profession is evolving."

Her laugh slipped out before she caught it, and the sound loosened the last tension in the room.

She stepped out of her boots while he pulled the leggings and underwear down together, supporting each ankle rather than making her balance.

She sat on the platform edge with one knee opened beside his shoulder and the other foot braced against the floor.

The position left her exposed beneath the dim pink light from Northstar’s sign.

He ran his thumb along the inside of her raised thigh and watched her cunt tighten before he touched it.

Her hand pulled once at his hair.

"You are staring."

"I missed this part last time."

Color returned beneath her cheekbones.

He turned his head and kissed the damp skin where thigh met groin, close enough to make her hips shift without giving her the contact she expected.

"That is deeply annoying."

"Tell me to stop."

Her fingers loosened in his hair as she said, "I want you to keep going."

He held her gaze for one second, then lowered his mouth.

His tongue parted her slowly, tasting clean salt and the sharper wetness gathering beneath it.

Mika inhaled through her nose and tried to settle back into control.

"Start lighter," she said, watching his mouth move against her, "then use more pressure when I..."

The sentence broke as his tongue circled her clit.

He kept the contact light until her raised thigh pressed against his ear, then increased the pressure in response to her body rather than the unfinished instruction.

A quiet "hhah" escaped her open mouth.

She looked toward the locked door as if the sound belonged to somebody outside.

"Nia is under the dance floor."

Ryan drew back far enough to say, "Then you can stop performing for the door."

The directness made her completely still, so he waited until she looked down with unpolished eyes and admitted, "I don’t know how."

His mouth remained near her thigh as he said, "Let me hear what happens when you don’t."

Her fingers tightened in his hair.

He closed his mouth around her clit and drew steady pressure while the flat of his tongue moved beneath it.

The response bent her forward.

Her free hand caught his shoulder, careful of the bandaged arm, and the first moan left her throat open.

"Ahh... Ryan, I..."

He released enough pressure to let her breathe, then returned with shorter strokes that kept her from rebuilding the sentence.

Her heel slid across the dusty floor, and he caught her calf before placing the foot against the platform edge, opening her farther without loading the regulator.

The changed angle exposed every involuntary pull of her cunt to his mouth.

’She cannot turn this into a performance if she cannot find the next line,’ he thought, feeling her shake against his palm, ’and she asked me to hear it.’

He pressed two fingers against her wet entrance but waited there.

She looked down, saw the question in his hand, and nodded.

His fingers entered slowly while his mouth remained on her clit, filling her only as far as the angle allowed.

The combination pulled a rough "mmh-ah" from her chest.

Her hips rolled forward before she caught the movement, then chose to do it again.

"Say what you want," he said against the inside of her thigh.

She opened her mouth, but nothing organized came out.

He returned to her clit, curled his fingers only enough to meet the tightening inside her, then held the rhythm when her instructions disappeared completely.

Her shoulders struck the mirror while one hand flattened against it and the other kept him close as she gasped, "I can’t, hah, that’s..."

He looked up from between her thighs and said, "You don’t have to finish the sentence."

She started to cum with his name breaking into two sounds.

Her thighs closed around his head, trapping his mouth against her while her cunt pulsed hard around his fingers.

He stayed still through the strongest contraction, then softened every movement as her grip changed from demand to sensitivity.

She released him slowly.

The pink light caught sweat along her stomach and the wet shine across his mouth.

For several breaths, she stared at him without reaching for a joke.

Her foot nudged his hip as she said, "Come up here."

He stood between her knees, and she pulled him into a kiss that tasted of her.

Her hands opened his belt with none of the hesitation in her face.

He was already hard, the head of his cock dark and wet when she freed it from his briefs.

She looked down, then back at his mouth before saying, "Sit."

He sat beside her on the platform while she turned sideways, placed one leg across his lap, then brought the other over it.

Her bare inner thighs closed around his cock, trapping the shaft between warm muscle and the slickness he had left on her.

His hand caught the platform edge as he asked, "You planned this?"

She adjusted her hips until the head moved between her thighs without entering her and said, "I had four days to be weird about the office, some research occurred."

The first slow squeeze pulled a helpless sound from his throat.

Her smile began crooked.

"That one was honest."

"Do not become unbearable during reconciliation."

"No business control," she reminded him, tightening both thighs as she rolled forward, "I retain full authority over how unbearable I am."

Ryan laughed once, and the movement pushed his cock harder between her thighs.

The laugh fractured into a groan.

She watched the change with bright, private satisfaction, then used one hand to keep his shaft aligned while her legs supplied the pressure.

Each roll dragged the sensitive head beneath the damp crease where her thighs met.

His breathing lost its shape.

She kissed beneath his ear and whispered, "You can hold me."

’Permission should not feel this dangerous,’ he thought, placing both hands around her waist.

He pulled her closer on the next motion, helping her grind the length of him between her thighs.

The added pressure made his cock twitch in her palm, softening her teasing.

She kissed beneath his ear and said, "I wanted you before the regulator, before you bought anything, even when you were hiding behind that tragic bag."

His forehead rested on hers as he said, "I wanted you before you knew my name."

The confession stopped her hips for one beat.

Then she squeezed her thighs and moved with deliberate force, drawing him along the wet heat until his stomach tightened.

His fingers pressed into her waist, close enough to the regulator for both of them to notice.

He moved the left hand lower without being asked.

She kissed him for it.

The next roll sent pleasure sharply through him, and his hips lifted into the pressure between her legs.

She caught the rhythm, mouth open against his, while his cock slid faster through the tight channel of her thighs.

"Mika..."

"I know."

She kept her eyes on his, then changed the angle by lifting one knee and closing both legs harder around the head.

He started to cum across her upper thigh and lower stomach, the first pulse striking warm skin while the next spread beneath her hand.

His body folded toward her as the final twitch moved between her legs.

Mika held him there until his breathing settled, then touched two fingers beneath his chin and said, "Sex buys no vote."

He kissed the corner of her mouth and replied, "Money buys no access."

She brushed her thumb across his chin and added, "Fear does not grant mind reading."

He caught her thumb between two fingers and said, "That rule seems targeted."

Her real smile reached both eyes.

The phone beneath the console began vibrating without pause.

Mika reached for it, stopped, then looked at him before turning the screen over.

The warehouse safety video had passed two million views.

Every replay froze on the same frame, Ryan beneath the butcher beast, orange marker against its heart, while pink lightning entered behind him.

The top caption read:

**Mystery Suit just cleared a C-rank with stationery**