Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

  Then why did you leave me?

  Outside their closet, in the dungeon, voices and the smacking got louder. Inside, Jason pulled her against his chest and stroked her hair. She breathed in his scent, and time slipped away to the many heated nights he’d held her close. He knew how to draw out every exquisite sensation with his touch. Before she got too worked up, she backed away, slowly because she didn’t want to knock into anything in the tiny closet. The sex party going on was so loud, Zoe doubted they would have heard anything.

  His hands slid around her waist, holding her captive. “Sorry. Missed you.” His words tore through her, ripping her heart in half. If he wanted to continue where they left off, she couldn’t.

  She leaned toward his ear. “Missed me? You’ll have to do better than that.”

  His mouth came down on hers, and she sensed his hunger, felt her own heating up her body. His tongue slid across hers, drawing the passion from deep in her core. Her hands reached up along his hard chest, moved up and around his head, where she tangled her fingers in his hair. She resisted the urge to spread her legs. To encourage him would only make their situation more difficult.

  Clinging to him, she gave in this time and melted deeper into the kiss. She couldn’t fight him here. His hand reached under her skirt and slipped inside her pantyhose. Her sex was so wet, he easily parted her folds and thrust a finger inside her channel. With a silent gasp, Zoe broke away from the kiss and lifted up on her toes. He steadied her against his body. Matching his thrusts to the rhythm of groans and strikes outside the closet, she rode his hand closer to orgasm.

  On impulse, she reached for his cock. The hard ridge bulged against his pants, and she pressed the heel of her palm along his length until she heard his intake of breath. The roughness of his hand rubbed her clit. Heat and throbbing intensified, coiling deep, bringing her to the edge of release. Yes! She wanted to scream and tell him not to stop, but it was sweet torture having to remain silent. Almost there.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” Zoe heard the first lady say. She pulled her hand away from Jason’s cock at the same time he slipped out of her pantyhose. Her body continued to throb, her vagina clenching at empty space and aching. When she peeked out through the crack in the door, the first lady had already slipped on her robe.

  “Very much,” the male guest answered. “I must say this type of American hospitality was unexpected.”

  “Our pleasure.” She handed him his clothing, and the man finished dressing. “Secret Service will escort you to your car.”

  “Thank you.”

  The group left. The man in black was the last to leave, switching the lights off and closing the door. Again, Jason and Zoe were surrounded in blackness.

  “Now what?” Zoe whispered.

  “We wait a few minutes.”

  The walls of the closet closed in. “You want to tell me now or later?”

  “About what went on out there, or about us in here?”

  “Either, both.” She leaned against the door and crossed her arms. “You leave Langley without a word months ago, and then you end up here, like me. Funny coincidence. You act like nothing ever happened.”

  “Not a coincidence. You were handpicked for a project, like I was.”

  “What project?”

  He hesitated. “You’ll be briefed soon, but I suggest you don’t take this job.”

  She groaned. “Why would I be briefed about someone’s sexual activities?”

  He cleared his throat and took a breath. “Zoe.” His voice softened. “You should leave before you learn any more.”

  “Learn about what?” She laughed. “I don’t know anything except the first lady might be a sex addict. Oh God. Does the president know?”

  He groaned. “Zoe, quit your job, resign. Go back to Langley.”

  She shoved at his chest. “I can’t go back. I think the Big D arranged this job to avoid firing me.”

  “Firing you?”

  She nodded, although he couldn’t see her. “Turkey was my fault. He probably doesn’t want a repeat.”

  “It was my fault, too.” He swore.

  Silence rose between them. “Is that why you left? You didn’t want to be my partner anymore and they wouldn’t reassign you?” Now that he was stuck with her again, he wanted her to leave. Her throat tightened.

  “No. That’s not why I left. It was a mission ordered by the White House. I can’t tell you more yet.”

  She laughed. “Whatever it is, it looks pretty entertaining.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to be involved with this.”

  “Well, I’m not quitting. Can I have my phone back?” She heard him moving around, then the phone was pressed into her hand. “Thank you.” She checked Damien’s message. He’d made a play. “Forty-three points? The bastard.” She’d check the game later. She had three E tiles among her seven and didn’t know what word she could make with that. Sometimes the small, insignificant words had better scores. It was all in the placement. At least Damien was back at the base instead of on a mission somewhere in Iran or Afghanistan, where much of the fighting was.

  “How’s Damien?” His words had softened a bit.

  “Conditions aren’t great over there. Deteriorating, from what I hear. Damien’s been out on a number of missions. I’m worried. And the peace talks aren’t helping. He should be coming home on leave in a couple months.” She couldn’t wait. At least she could count on him.

  “That’s good.”

  Three hard thuds hit the closet door. Zoe launched herself into Jason’s arms. It sounded like Goliath outside pounding with a club. “Jason? We’re all done here,” a man’s voice said. He chuckled. “Need a hand in there?”

  “Funny, smart ass. No, I’ll lock up.”

  She swallowed and pressed her hand to her breast, feeling her heart slamming against her chest. She never heard the guy come in or turn on the light. Light streamed in beneath the door and through the crack. “Who was that?”

  “Don’t worry about it. We can go now.” He opened the closet door. The man had gone, and the door to the room was closed. When they stepped into the room, Jason gave her a long look.

  “How did he know we were in the closet?”

  “He’s Secret Service.” He grimaced, as if that explained it all.

  She strode over to the table and examined the implements of fetish toys and bondage equipment. Floggers, dildos, vibrators, cuffs, canes, gel lubricant, clamps, rope and a few things Zoe couldn’t identify.

  “What you saw obviously can’t be taken out of this room.”

  “I’m not sure what I saw. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  “Not tonight. You’ll get a full explanation if you stay, but I recommend you don’t.” The man was a master at hiding his emotions. She wasn’t sure if he hated the idea of working with her again or if there was something about the job she should be concerned about.

  She stuck her hands on her hips and glared at him. “And do what? Get a job as a detective in the suburbs? You need to give me more than just telling me to quit my job. If you don’t want to work with me again, just say it.”

  He rubbed his face and looked around the room. “It’s not that, Zoe. It was a mistake. They shouldn’t have hired you.”

  She raised her arms up in the air and dropped them by her sides. “Why? Julia and Melissa seem to think an ex-CIA agent is perfectly qualified for filing or whatever they want me to do. All I want is a chance to do something that matters, something important.”

  He smiled sympathetically and stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. “I wouldn’t tell you to leave unless there was good reason.” He was dead serious. The pained look in his eyes twisted at her heart.

  “Maybe. But I don’t walk away from anything unless I have a good reason.” The silence stretched between them. Sadness and regret crept into her soul.

  “I know.” He took her in his arms and hugged her close. Months of anger, bitterness, and pain dissolved. At least some of it. She
stepped back and gave him an up-and-down look. Damn, he looked better than she remembered.

  She forced a smile. “The suit’s a good look for you.” They never dressed so formal while gathering intel overseas. His trim dark hair had a more professional look, less military than the last time she’d seen him. The suit couldn’t hide the well-toned body-building frame. Even at five-ten, Zoe felt short and small next to his six feet, four inches.

  His mouth quirked in a slight grin. With the mix of emotions running through her head, she didn’t want to address their relationship right now. The churning in her stomach she attributed to the Chinese food she had for dinner. “I need to go home and walk Dexter.”

  “Dexter?” He frowned.

  “My black Lab. He’s still a puppy. My neighbor lets him out and feeds him when I’m home late.”

  “He’s probably eaten your couch by now.” His eyes glittered when he smiled this time. “You bought a house, a dog, really settled down. Not the Zoe I remember.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I’m all grown up.” The teasing look in his eyes changed to sadness. She was sure he knew she was failing miserably in her attempt to live a nine-to-five life.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” He put an arm around her shoulders.

  The door to the room opened, and a man dressed in black walked in. He glanced at Zoe and gave a small nod. He could be the one who wore the black leather face mask. “You’re wanted upstairs, Jason.”

  Jason murmured a few words to himself. He didn’t sound pleased. “Great. How’d it go?”

  The man shrugged. “Okay, I guess. We’re about to find out.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why is she here?”

  “Long story. It’s not a concern.”

  “She shouldn’t be in here until she’s briefed.” The man continued to stare at her, and Zoe knew he was considering whether there had been a breach in security. Not knowing what was going on, she kept her mouth shut and let Jason talk his way out. If there was a way out.

  “Julia instructed me to explain the program to Zoe,” Jason said. “I haven’t gotten to all the details yet.”

  The man nodded, seeming to accept that explanation. “You’ll have to save the rest of your tour for another time. Julia wants us in her office now.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Jason said as the guard walked out, leaving the door open. Jason turned to Zoe. “Can you wait for me? I’d like to walk you to your car. It’s late.”

  She laughed. “I can take care of myself.”

  He frowned. “I know that, but it’s a hike to the parking lot.”

  She knew what he was thinking. “Turkey was different,” she snapped. “Stop trying to protect me. I could take down a linebacker with a .357 pointed at my back.”

  He held up his hand. “Okay. Sorry. See you tomorrow.” He pulled out his phone and punched in a quick text.

  “You’re supposed to tell me what was going on down here.”

  “Not now.”

  “Why?”

  “Plausible deniability. I’m hoping you’ll quit.”

  “Don’t count on it. Should I be worried?”

  “Very.”

  CHAPTER 3

  By the time Zoe left the White House, it was almost one a.m. She yawned as she speed-walked to her car. Why bother leaving when she had to be back to work at seven? Her car was a couple of blocks away. The night was chilly and the streets quiet. Unusual for Washington. Checking her phone, she saw that Damien had played the word D U N E. He was beating her by fifty-nine points. She still had a chance to catch up. She’d planned a few options, but all she could play was one word with two of the E’s she had. By using an X and D already on the board, she added the word E X P L O D E and clicked PLAY.

  Moments later, she received a text from him.

  How’s the job? Talk to Dad lately?

  He ended the e-mail with an ASCII art of an owl. She stopped walking and took a few breaths.

  The owl was Damien’s sign meaning he was heading out on a mission. Asking if she’d talked to Dad was his way to say, “Let Dad know.” Who knows when she’d hear from him again, and she knew how bad the situation was over there. Since the new Iranian president had taken power, corruption and violence in Iran and other countries had escalated, creating monumental challenges for Iran’s citizens. Oh God, the word she just played. What an idiot.

  A few moments later, her phone buzzed with another text. Damien again.

  Rough day? Can’t sleep?

  He thought she was home in bed, considering it was one in the morning.

  Not really. New job.

  K. Get some sleep, sis. LU

  LU2.

  She slipped the phone back into her purse and continued walking. Footsteps followed behind her, matching her pace at first then speeding up, moving closer. Slowly, she slipped the strap of her purse over her head so it lay across her body. Her hands tightened into fists. A man, by the heaviness of the steps. She planned her attack, depending on which side he approached. Two strikes—forearm and fist, then knee.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his approach from her left. She took a breath and raised her left arm.

  “Anyone ever tell you not to text—ooph—”

  Zoe spun around and struck his solar plexus with her elbow. A rush of air expelled from his lungs. As she continued around, she was about to smash his nose with the heel of her hand, but something in his voice sounded familiar. She eased up on the momentum of the punch, hitting his mouth instead. He went down, and she climbed on top, her knee pressed on his chest.

  She sucked in air as if she’d run a mile, adrenaline pumping in her ears. She blinked, staring at one of the people who interviewed her for the White House job, Frank Phillips, the security adviser. “Jesus, Frank, you scared the daylights out of me.”

  “Scared you? Christ, Zoe. I was about to say it’s not safe to text at this hour walking alone. I stand corrected, er, not exactly standing. Can you let me up?”

  “Sure. Sorry, I hit you. Are you okay?” He was ex-military, built solid like a carved pile of cinder blocks.

  He rubbed his jaw. “Better than my pride. How’s your hand?”

  “Okay.” She continued walking toward her car, and he paced alongside. “Merritt call you?”

  “What if he did?” Frank turned and looked behind them and around each car, shrub or tree they passed. Were all ex-military this paranoid?

  “I told him I don’t need protection.” She picked up her pace, and he matched her steps.

  “I see that. But the orders come directly from the first lady. The special tactics team involved with the current project requires personal protection.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “What special tactics team? Protection from what? No one placed me on any team. I’m filing papers in the basement.” She marched toward the parking lot before he had a chance to answer. Her keys were out, and she pressed the key fob. It unlocked the car with a chirp and flash of headlights.

  Every ounce of her body was exhausted. She didn’t have the energy to get more out of Frank. She doubted he’d tell her much anyway.

  “A lot has been going on with the peace treaty,” he said. “Security risk is high. Go home and get some rest.”

  “Thanks for walking me to my car,” she said.

  “Anytime. Maybe I should have you walk me to mine.”

  She laughed and considered that a compliment as she got in the car and started it. He gave a wave and watched her leave.

  When she got home, Dexter, sleepy-eyed and tail wagging, met her as she walked through the door. After Zoe petted and hugged him, he charged for the back door. Zoe let him out to pee. Mrs. Snyder had left a note on the kitchen counter saying Dexter had been fed and walked at six p.m. When she let him back inside, he went straight to his food dish.

  Zoe petted him. “How does one so little eat so much?” She added an extra scoop of food to his dish and checked his water, then glanced around the room and sniffed. She was on th
e lookout for any doggy presents. She didn’t smell anything unsavory. What she did find was white paper everywhere. It took her a minute to realize he’d unrolled the toilet paper from the guest bath and decorated the entire first floor. “Nice job, Dexter.”

  How could she be angry at him? He was one of the few things in her life she could depend on always wanting her, trusting her, needing her. At this hour, she was too exhausted to scold him. The little guy had been bored all day. She’d have to get him a few more toys and keep the bathroom door closed. At least he hadn’t eaten the couch.

  ***

  At noon the next day, Zoe sat in the employee cafeteria, sipped her fourth cup of strong coffee and waited for the caffeine to kick in. She poked at a Caesar salad.

  Normally, the White House was a busy place, but today the employees looked especially haggard and worried. Most of them didn’t stop to sit and eat lunch. They ate on the run. A few Secret Service agents in dark suits, sunglasses and coiled ear pieces marched in, grabbed food, then sat down at a table against the far wall. All of them adjusted their chairs so that their backs weren’t facing the door. Typical.

  Zoe smiled at the image the men brought to mind—the movie Matrix and all the controllers in dark suits hunting down Mr. Anderson.

  The remaining tables were mostly empty. She kept watch for Melissa or Jason. There were a lot of unanswered questions, and it was time someone filled her in. National news highlighted the foreign diplomats in town, meeting with the president, UN officials and advisers involved with the controversial peace agreement. From the looks on everyone’s faces, the talks weren’t going well. All heads in the room turned toward the television screens up on the walls when CNN announced the escalating violence in the small country of Chad, giving the latest numbers of casualties. Surrounding countries were descending into chaos and soon would be caught up in the momentum. The increased fighting in Africa only added to the continued war and brutality in the Middle East.