by Jo Davis
He laughed. “Come on. Let’s put in our appearance and play his game. Hopefully he’ll be pleased enough to allow you to return to your room.”
“That’s not much of an incentive, since I’m already sick of being cooped up in here.”
“It’s better than being out there, in his sight and on his mind.”
She couldn’t refute that. Composing herself, she went along quietly, determined not to outwardly react to whatever greeted them. She must be alert, take note of how to navigate the house. Night had fallen outside, and the corridors were lit with a soft glow, as were the stairs. In the foyer, J.C. guided her down another short hallway to a set of wide double doors, where several men and women entered ahead of them.
A burly man dressed similarly to her escort, who she supposed was another guard, nodded at him and waved them inside. They stepped in, and it was all she could do to maintain her calm facade.
The big living room was dimly lit. Soft, sexy music played in the background, barely heard above throaty laughter and murmured conversation. The men were dressed in leathers or nice pants and dress shirts, and every last one of the women was dressed much the same as Emma. Clearly, the females were to be put on display, their stunning beauty rivaling the opulent surroundings. They were every shape and size—blondes, brunettes, redheads. Tall and slim, short and round, athletic. Feminine, soft butch, and every flavor in between.
Some of their blouses were made of sheer material and were see-through like her own. Some tops were bustiers, so tight their breasts were practically spilling over the cups, nipples showing. A few wore short skirts, and Emma would bet her next month’s salary that not a one of them wore so much as a thong.
“Overwhelmed?”
She looked at J.C. and gave a slight nod. “Some. What’s expected of me now?”
“Just stick with me and follow my lead,” he said, keeping his voice low, for her ears only. “You’ll be all right.”
“That’s what General Custer said to his buddies,” she muttered. His chuckle wrapped around her, making her feel a bit better. For the moment.
He led her to the bar on the far side of the room, getting a beer for himself and a glass of red wine for her. Then she joined him in a cozy corner where three sofas formed a conversation area, a glass coffee table in the center. Two couples on the sofa across from them were engaged in serious flirtation, innuendo heavy.
Despite the sexual tension in the air, Emma had just started to relax when she spotted Dietz in the opposite corner, schmoozing three women who weren’t the least bit averse to showing the man a good time. One had an arm draped over his shoulder, her tongue in his ear. On his other side, another slid her hand up the inside of his thigh to his crotch, rubbing his zipper. A third sat on the floor between his knees, hanging on his every word.
“Unbelievable. Who is this guy, the Hugh Hefner of the terrorist world? And how did he throw together this party so fast, anyway?”
“Something like that. As for the party, it was already planned to celebrate his escape. Ignore him.”
“He has my fate in his hands, so that’s kind of impossible.”
“Not really. Look at me.” He set down his beer.
Sliding one arm around her, he cupped her jaw and slanted his mouth over hers. Took her lips in a hot kiss, tongue slipping between her lips. He tasted so good and smelled even better. Felt good, too, his hard body pressed into her side.
His hand trailed to the first button on her blouse, flicking it open with expertise.
“Wait. What are you doing?” Her pulse fluttered as his lashes lowered and he sent her a smoldering look. Nervous, she took a sip of her wine and placed it beside his beer.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, they’re way ahead of us.”
A glance around confirmed his words. All over the room, creamy white breasts and erect cocks were being bared as people came together in twos or threes. Skin met skin, and hands roamed and stroked, eliciting moans of pleasure.
“Can’t we just observe?” The decadent sight was making her a bit dizzy, it was so surreal.
“The last thing we want to do is stand out because we’re not participating,” he said reasonably. “Don’t be fooled into thinking he’s not watching you. If he sees you’re coming around to his side, he’ll be satisfied for now.”
“This must be easy for you by now.”
“Survival is never easy.” Moving close, he nuzzled her neck. “Relax and let me take care of you.”
His lips were warm and pleasant, and his seductive skills were apparent. She might have succumbed to the sensations were it not for feeling so conspicuous among these people. As though she were a lamb in a room full of lions. This was much different than the scene at Blaze’s club—she was an unwilling captive here, not a loyal sub.
“I can’t do this,” she hissed, pushing at his chest. “Not here. I don’t care what he does to me.”
“Stay calm,” he said in a low voice, his body as unmovable as a boulder. “Unless you want to get us both killed before the night is over.”
“That might be preferable to giving in to his sick games.”
J.C. gave her an inscrutable look and finally relented. “All right, let me see what I can do. Wait here.”
She made herself as unnoticeable as possible beside a large ficus tree while her protector crossed the room to speak to Dietz. The boss threw J.C. a glare at being interrupted, his eyes narrowing as the other man spoke. Dietz’s gaze found Emma’s across the distance, and she suppressed a shiver even when he nodded to approve whatever J.C. had suggested.
The implication was clear—her refusal to completely abide by Dietz’s rules had endangered both her and J.C.
Her companion strode back to her and took her hand, tugging her toward a nearby doorway. He led her through it and down a short corridor, then through another door to a small room that looked like some sort of library. J.C. switched on a table lamp, which bathed the space in dim light. The sounds of the party could still be heard, but barely. The distance went a long way toward soothing her nerves, as did his palms rubbing her shoulders.
“Better?” he asked softly.
“Yes. But far from ideal.”
“I know.” He pulled her against his chest and spoke quietly in her ear. “He has cameras everywhere, Emma. He’s suspicious now, so if we don’t play along, he’ll find out before the night is over. He’ll realize I’m helping you, and we’ll both be history.”
“Wh-what do I do?”
“Focus on nothing but me. My hands and the pleasure I can bring you. Pretend if you need to that you’re somewhere else, that I’m the man you love,” he whispered. “Is there someone, pretty girl?”
“Yes.” She leaned into him.
“Do you love him?”
The helpless noise in her throat was all the answer he required.
“Will he blame you for this?”
“No.” Blaze wasn’t that kind of man.
“Then do what you must to get home to him.”
The arousal Emma had been battling ever since her interrupted daydreaming session earlier washed over her, carrying her away like a leaf on a rushing river. J.C. parted her blouse and cupped her breasts, testing their fullness. His thumbs grazed the sensitized tips, and she arched into him with a groan. So needy.
“You’re beautiful,” he praised. Bending over, he licked one pouty nipple, teasing it. Then he suckled it for several delicious moments before turning his attention to the other.
By the time he raised his head she was lost to the wickedness, ready to do whatever he wanted. Was this her submissive side coming to the fore? She didn’t know, only that his tugging her to the floor to kneel between his feet felt natural. So did freeing the buttons on his leathers, parting the fly, and lifting out his cock and balls.
His erection was big, veined, and gorgeous, the balls heavy. What little body hair he had was nicely manscaped, with only a patch of brown above his cock. The bulbous tip was leaking pre-cum,
and she spread the little pearl with her finger, liking how he sucked in a sharp breath and gazed at her, his face etched with desire.
“Suck me, Emma.”
Teasing him, she licked and nuzzled his balls first, taking them in her mouth and rolling them around. She loved the delicate texture, how a powerful man was always reduced to a puddle when being licked and sucked. As if he was the slave instead.
Her tongue traced a path up the ridge under his cock to the head, where she licked away the salty drops. Finally, she took pity and suckled the head for a moment, then deep-throated him to the balls.
“Ah, fuck! God yes, girl. Suck my cock, do it.”
She began to work him hard, using her throat muscles to massage his length. One strong hand dug through her hair and clasped her head, urging her on. Fucking her mouth with short thrusts until he urged her to stop.
“You’re going to make me come, and I want to be inside you when I do.”
Pulling off him, she watched, mesmerized, as he removed his shoes and ankle holster, placing them close at hand. He stood and pushed his leathers past his hips and off, dropping them to the floor. His shirt went next, and he was completely naked. A god.
“Your turn,” he said, grinning.
Feeling self-conscious, she resolved to follow this through. She let her blouse slide off and stood to remove her shoes and pants as well. They joined his, and she waited, hoping he liked what he saw.
“Stunning underneath the clothing as well.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Now brace yourself on the side of the sofa right here, bend over, and spread your legs, sweetheart.”
She did, hyperaware of being exposed. Vulnerable. His for the taking in this wicked place, where nothing mattered at the moment except slaking their lust.
“Look at you,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over one ass cheek. Dipping his fingers between her pussy lips. “So pretty, your pink pussy already wet and aching to be filled. You want that, don’t you? My cock buried in your sweet channel?”
“Yes, please.” God, she burned.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me, J.C. Deep and hard, please!”
He removed his fingers and in seconds she heard a package crinkle. Then one hand rested on her hip as he steadied himself and brought the head of his cock to her opening with the other. He pushed inside and they groaned together, electrified by their joining as he slid deeper. And deeper still until he was seated groin to ass and held there, allowing the sensation to heighten.
Gripping her hips, he began to move, taking her in slow thrusts. Out, to the head and in again, so deep and so good. Filling her over and over, the strokes becoming increasingly faster and harder.
“Oh, yeah. Such a hot, tight pussy.”
“Fuck me harder!”
He obliged, slammed into her, flesh slapping in rapid tempo, gripping her so hard that he’d likely leave a few bruises. She loved it, feeling free. Naughty.
As he pushed them higher, she began to unravel, the tight ball of ecstasy blooming until she couldn’t contain the explosion. “Oh, God, yes!”
“Shit ...” One last thrust and he buried himself deep, cock jerking as he filled her with warmth.
She spasmed around his length, and he laid his head on her shoulder as the euphoria faded, leaving a nice fuzzy glow in its wake. After a few moments he withdrew and helped her straighten, kissing her cheek.
“I’m thinking it will be safe to return you to your room. He’s seen us, and he’ll know you were in here with me,” he said.
“Great—let’s go.” Now that the earth had stopped moving, she felt more than a little uneasy standing around in her birthday suit after having hot sex with a stranger in an enemy compound.
They dressed quickly, and he accompanied her back to the bedroom. Instead of bidding her good night and locking her in, however, he came in and closed the door behind him.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to say thank you for an amazing ride back there. It was fantastic, even if the rest of the company sucks.”
She sent him a shaky smile. “Thank you, too. I don’t know if I’m an exhibitionist or not, but I hardly think this was a fair test.”
“I think we all have a bit of it in us—it’s just that some of us never tap in to our sexual potential.”
“Someone I know has been trying to teach that to me, and I’m beginning to understand. Or I might, given the right situation.”
“This someone is the man you love.” It wasn’t a question. He was referring to her earlier admission.
“Yes.”
“Are you feeling guilty about tonight?”
“Some,” she admitted. “But . . . he’s a free spirit. And a powerful Dom, too. I guess I never really got how he could claim to want to be with me, yet still enjoy fucking other lovers, doing a ‘scene’ with them, and not see anything wrong with it.”
“You get it now.”
“Yes, or at least I’m getting there. I’m willing to try.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, stalking forward with the grace of a panther. “Because I’m very willing to help you liberate your vanilla mind. Think of me as therapy.”
“Therapy?” She squeaked as he pushed her backward, onto the bed, and crawled on top of her.
“You bet. Get some rest, dear Emma,” he whispered in her ear. “Because the next time I fuck you, I’m going to do it slow and easy, for a good long while.”
Oh, my. Yes.
Well, Blaze had wanted her awakened to new possibilities, and it was safe to say she was coming out of a long sleep.
She just hoped he could handle his own creation.
Six
Three days. Three long-assed, sorry motherfucking days pacing, worried sick about Emma. He’d tried returning to work the day after she was kidnapped, but he’d gotten on Michael’s last nerve and had been sent straight home again.
“Dammit.” In his kitchen, he tossed the remains of his half-eaten sandwich and stared out the back window overlooking his yard. SHADO’s intelligence guys were doing their best to find her and Dietz. And they would find her. He knew that.
But it didn’t stop his brain from conjuring all sorts of horrible things Dietz might be doing to her, how frightened she must be. Unless . . .
No. She’s still alive. I’d know if she wasn’t.
The peal of his doorbell cut into his tumbling thoughts, and he strode out of the kitchen through the living room, dread building in the pit of his stomach. The knot grew when he looked out the peephole to see Bastian standing on the porch. He yanked open the door and let the other man inside, grabbing his arm.
“She’s not dead.” It came out more of a demand than a question.
“No. If that were the case, Michael would’ve come himself,” Bastian said in a soothing tone. “Actually, I have some good news and some bad.”
“As long as it involves us being able to take action, I can deal with whatever you tell me. Sit down?”
“Sure.” He sat in a wingback chair as Blaze perched on the arm of the sofa, waiting. “This won’t take long because it’s pretty simple. Our tech guys haven’t been able to unscramble the signal to track the stolen helicopter. However, Michael got an anonymous tip on his secure e-mail account giving a set of coordinates. Nothing else. We have a team checking it out now to see if it’s anything important or just a wild-goose chase.”
“I assume the computer geeks are trying to trace the e-mail.”
“As we speak. Not much luck there so far, though. I’m thinking if it’s related to Dietz, one of his own men turned or there’s someone on the inside, maybe FBI, who took a chance in feeding us their location.”
“And the weapon’s location, hopefully.”
Bastian snorted. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Nothing is ever that simple.”
“True. And the FBI will let us do the dirty work to keep the weapon’s theft from becoming public, and when the
dust settles, they’ll take the credit if all ends well.”
“That’s the thankless shit job we took, which we knew going in.” Bastian shifted, suddenly looking uneasy. “There’s one other thing. If—when—we pin down where Emma is probably being held, Michael has ordered you to stay here.”
Blaze laughed, the sound humorless and more than a tad pissed. “Michael can suck my dick. No disrespect intended.”
“He’s the boss, Kelly.” The other man cocked a half smile that was devoid of humor. “And believe me, Michael wouldn’t stray anywhere close to your dick.”
Blaze filed the man’s words and the bitter tone away for future reference. Coupled with what Bastian had said in his new office a few days ago, Blaze wondered anew what the deal was between Michael and Bastian.
Bastian continued. “You’ll remain here out of the way. Otherwise, you’ll be a liability.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Emma’s going on assignment with me, and this is no different. I have every right to go after my partner.”
“Michael won’t—”
“Yes, he will. Tell him that I go, or I resign. His choice.”
“You’re a tough SOB. He’s not going to like this.”
“So I’ve been told, and I don’t care whether he does.” Stalemate. Blaze wanted to change the subject and was reluctant to see the other man leave. He needed company to take his mind off the constant aching worry. “Want a beer?”
“I really should get going,” said Bastian, not sounding convinced. “I was supposed to go back and finish unpacking my office.”
“All work and no play ...”
“Makes Bastian a dull boy. I know.” He sighed, suddenly looking forlorn.
“Have pity on me, at least. I’m about to go out of my mind sitting around here waiting on word about Emma.”
The other man hesitated. “Oh, why the hell not? It’s not as if anyone from the office gives a damn where I went.”
“I smell a story there. Tell it to me over the beer?” Blaze rose and started for the kitchen, the other man right behind him.
“Not much to tell. Well, there sort of is, but it can be condensed into a few pathetic words—the man I love doesn’t know I’m alive in the romantic sense.”
