by Jo Davis
“You must have the devil’s luck.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Briefly she entertained the suggestion, but decided against it. They didn’t need attention called to them no matter how lucky Blaze believed himself to be.
“I like your hair long,” he commented, gesturing to her extensions. “It really does suit you.”
“Thanks. Most men prefer long hair, I guess.”
“Not necessarily. I think you have one of those faces with great bone structure and you’ll look terrific no matter what style you pick.”
“How sweet.” Reaching out, she fingered a lock of his newly highlighted mane. “You look pretty sexy yourself. Told you these tints would match your golden eyes.”
He snorted. “Looks weird on me, especially the way you teased it. I feel like the frickin’ Cowardly Lion.”
“You’re my lion and you’re anything but cowardly. Rrrrr.” His laugh made her smile.
“God. Okay, how about Barry Gibb? I’m feeling the uncontrollable urge to break out into a Bee Gees song.”
“You’re terrible!”
“That’s what they tell me.”
They snickered as quietly as they could, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. Blaze was pretty funny when he wanted to be, a little nutty. So at odds with his Dom persona, especially the powerful master of last night, yet it endeared him to her even more.
She leaned into his shoulder and they fell silent for a while, the mood turning quiet. Reflective. Michael’s condition dominated her thoughts, and she sensed Blaze was thinking about him as well. Despite Dr. McKay’s grave prediction, he’d survived the night—just barely—and was still hanging on when she and Blaze had boarded the plane.
“Thinking about Michael?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, he hasn’t been far from my mind for more than five minutes at a time.”
“Mine, too.”
She squeezed his hand tightly. “He’s going to make it. He has to, or SHADO would never be the same.”
“Neither would Bastian.”
“What do you think happened between them?” she asked, peering up at him.
“Bastian wouldn’t say. He didn’t even admit it was Michael who broke his heart, but I’m pretty sure that’s who he was talking about. If I had to take a guess, I’d say Michael marrying Maggie had something to do with the estrangement.”
“And Michael being straight.”
“Or in denial.”
“Could be,” she admitted. “I’m just glad he pulled through the surgery. Maybe now they’ll have a chance to really reconcile.”
“I hope so.” He paused for a few seconds. “Have you heard anything about that federal agent who helped you escape Dietz?”
“J.C.’s fine. He called before we left, and he’s recuperating at home now.”
“You two really bonded in a short time, didn’t you?” A tinge of jealousy colored his words.
“Yes, but you have nothing to worry about, honey,” she said seriously. “He has his life and I have mine. We crossed paths for a time, but that’s all there will be.”
“I can’t say I’m sorry to hear it, though I’ll always be grateful to him for looking out for my baby.”
“I can’t believe he fooled Dietz for a second into thinking he was dirty.”
“Well, Dietz’s ego is pretty big. He probably never thought anyone could infiltrate his nasty group.”
“He’s about to be proven wrong. Twice.”
“Damned right.” He smiled and gave her a sweet kiss.
The rest of the flight passed in companionable quiet and sporadic conversation interspersed with reading a magazine and looking out the window. Funny, with Blaze beside her she wasn’t nearly as nervous about flying. It was as though since the man was so invincible in her eyes, nothing bad would dare happen to him, and to her by association. Silly, but it kept her calm.
Despite his comforting presence, the plane being brought in for a safe landing gave her a familiar rush of relief. She’d taken on a hunk of hurtling metal held together with spit and rivets, and cheated death once more.
They collected their bags and walked through the terminal, as casually as any couple in D.C. for a visit. Innocuous. Throughout the long night, in between getting updates on Michael, she’d made certain their choice of travel clothing would blend them into the background. Jeans and muted colors for their shirts and jackets. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and Blaze’s was loose on his shoulders.
Glancing at him, her throat closed a bit, the place between her thighs heating even though it had been mere hours since their session. There was only so much she could do to make this sexy-as-hell man fade into the scenery. She might be a master costume and makeup artist, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. Short of altering his face with stage makeup to render him ugly, there was no way to hide his beauty. And this assignment called for an attractive couple.
She was a novice when it came to performing undercover rather than simply preparing an agent to do so, but she managed not to search the lot for Ozzie and Willis. They had arrived first to retrieve the surveillance van Michael had arranged for them, and were here somewhere, watching and listening. They’d never be too far away to come running if absolutely necessary, and only if their cover was blown.
It gave her peace of mind and at the same time was a source of embarrassment. With their electronic listening technology, backed up by the minicams she’d sewn into Blaze’s and her clothing, they’d see and hear everything.
If Ozzie thought to make her the butt of his jokes for the next few years, she’d fix his wagon real quick.
In long-term parking, they located the black Mercedes Michael had also provided as part of their cover. Once away from the airport, they became Mr. and Mrs. John Chase, well-off socialites who’d just moved to the area outside D.C. and who were looking for a new D/s club.
Which would take them to the Velvet Underground. Tonight.
Blaze loaded their luggage in the trunk and they were off, following directions to a McMansion in a nice outlying suburb. The idea of staying in a hotel had been nixed, partly because of the privacy this assignment would require but mostly to ensure they had a real address should one of their targets get suspicious and check.
When they pulled into the drive a half hour later, her lover whistled through his teeth. “Dang, I’m glad we’re not footing the bill.” He glanced over at her. “I don’t do badly for myself, but even if I worked until I’m seventy and saved every penny, I’d never be able to afford living like this. Does that bother you?”
“Of course not.” She frowned. “Why would you ask me such a stupid question? I won’t deny this is nice, but a home is what’s on the inside.”
He winked. “I knew it. One of the many reasons we’re perfect for each other.”
“I think so, too,” she said, warmth spreading through her.
Blaze carried the two heavy suitcases full of clothing, leaving her with the two lighter duffels filled with makeup and wigs. On the front porch, he set down a suitcase, dug for his keys, and found the right one.
In the foyer, they paused at the marble entry and stared in awe. White columns, arches, and vaulted ceilings soared, while a zillion windows filled the interior with light. By contrast, the furniture was darker, perhaps walnut, with fabric in shades of red and gold.
“I wouldn’t be comfortable living like this all the time, but it’s cool to pretend, just for a while,” she admitted.
“I’ll say.” Leaning into her, he nibbled her ear. “What do you say we check out the master bedroom?”
“I like the way you think . . . sir.”
Dropping the luggage, he grabbed her hand. “I’ll come back and get these!”
She giggled as he dragged her up the wide staircase and dashed to each doorway, looking for the right room. Finding it, he pulled her inside and took her in his arms, delivering a blistering kiss.
“God, I’ve been wanting
you ever since you nixed joining the mile-high club. My cock is so hard I could pole vault. Feel.” He guided her hand to the pole in question, proving his point.
“Poor baby,” she crooned. “What can I do to make it all better?”
“Strip, fast.” Grabbing the edge of his jacket, he held an innocent-looking button to his lips. “Go for a long walk, you two perverts.”
They made short work of their clothing, and Blaze hung their bugged jackets in the closet for good measure. He pulled her over to the king-sized bed and fell backward, bringing her down on top of him. Straddling his hips, she leaned over and kissed him slow and deep, loving how his erection rode the crack of her rear. Somehow, just kissing, being naked on top of him, seemed as intimate as actually making love.
An idea formed, and she gazed down at him. “You said you used to be a sub.”
He tiled his head. “Yep. I wasn’t a natural, but it did have its rewards.”
“What did you like best as a sub? The actual sex, I mean.”
Pausing, he thought about that. “I didn’t like being topped by a man, but I loved being dominated by a strong woman, letting her do what she wanted with my body.”
Oh, my! And I’m the woman on top at the moment, lucky me.
“What are you thinking, baby?” he asked curiously.
“That it’s highly unfair I never got to have you submit to me,” she whispered into his mouth. “Do you think it’s fair?”
“Mmm. No, I believe you were robbed,” he answered seductively. “Why don’t you show me what you’re made of ? Take what’s yours.”
She needed no further invitation. “Stay very still.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His cute grin and sparkling gaze fired her blood.
Scooting to the side, she kissed his sexy lips and his jaw. Worked her way down his throat, nibbling and kissing. Then on to his nipples, taut brown discs that obviously loved the attention she lavished on them. She worried them with her teeth, feeling very smug that his breathing had become more audible, a bit faster.
She moved on to his flat stomach, tonguing his insy and making him laugh. But he held still for her, letting her do as she pleased. When she crawled between his legs he obediently spread them wide, giving her complete access.
“Beautiful man,” she murmured in approval, lowering her head to lick his balls. “I wish I had some of those toys you packed in the suitcase.”
“I think you’re doing just fine without them.”
“From the size of that juicy cock? I’d say you’re right.”
She laved and rolled his testicles, working them with her mouth until he was groaning, hips thrusting upward to stab empty air with his erection. Good—she wanted him mindless by the time she was finished.
“Knees up and give me your ass, tough guy.”
He readily complied, and she parted his ass cheeks, revealing the puckered hole awaiting her attention. With gentle flicks, she lavished the small entrance with the same attention she’d given his sac, getting him nice and wet. Then she inserted one finger, carefully pushing past the resistant ring of flesh, fucking him nice and easy.
“Oh, shit . . . Emma! Oh, God, yes,” he moaned, writhing on her hand.
“Can you take this, honey? Do you like me finger-fucking your ass?”
“Christ, don’t stop!”
“Oh, I have no intention. Not until you shoot your sweet cum all over.”
Adding another finger, she slid them deep. In and out, working him, driving him insane. She couldn’t resist taking his cock into her mouth as well and sucking him down, giving him a double whammy of sensation.
She sucked and fucked him harder, faster. When her fingers brushed a soft, spongy spot inside him—a man’s magic button, so she’d heard—he cried out hoarsely.
“Ahh! Damn, I’m gonna—gonna—”
Pulling off his cock, she demanded, “Come for me.”
Thick, ropy streams of cum pulsed all over his belly and chest, painting his skin with pearly cream. His shouts were music to her ears, puffing up her ego big-time.
She’d done this to her man—made him lose control. Beg for her touch.
If this was even a fraction of the powerful feeling her lover experienced when he dominated a sub, she knew why he loved it so much.
“God, you rocked my world,” he said breathlessly.
“Does that mean I get to do it again sometime?”
“Anytime you want, darlin’. Just say the word.”
Smiling, she crawled up next to him and snuggled into his side, content to put their mission out of her mind for a while.
But tonight, the naughty game of cat and mouse would begin.
Eleven
The first two nights were a bust.
The third, as they say, was the charm.
It had been only a matter of time before at least one of their targets showed his face at the Velvet Underground. Blaze spotted one of the men from their file, and his blood surged with the familiar thrill of the chase.
Bending to Emma’s ear, he pretended to kiss and nibble—not a tough task. Instead, he spoke into the listening device doubling as her earring. “Kosta’s at the bar, alone. Look alive, folks.”
Emma nodded, and they had to trust that their fellow agents heard the message. The equipment was state-of-the-art spy gear, but they had no way to copy a response without wearing receivers in addition to the transmitters. Too big a risk of discovery. If he and Emma executed their parts well, Ozzie and Willis would need only to be there, recording every damning word for evidence.
The trick now was to gain Kosta’s attention and entice him over to talk without the man realizing he was being lured. It had to be his idea to approach, not the other way around.
The problem was that Emma wasn’t supposed to make direct eye contact with another master. A forward move from her would be frowned upon and might make him suspicious. Added to that, Kosta was absolutely straight. No men in his stable whatsoever, which meant he wouldn’t look twice at Blaze. Something had to be done to turn the man’s attention in their direction.
He bent to her ear again. “Go get us a drink and make sure you brush against him. Nothing obvious, though.”
Taking a fortifying breath, she met his eyes, her gaze conveying a hint of nerves and the desire to pull this off well. For her, this went way past helping agents play dress-up.
They could die trying to obtain the information needed to save their country, just like countless covert operatives before them.
She moved gracefully through the crowd, turning heads as she passed, and he felt a surge of pride. The tall, striking woman in the purple leather skirt, bra, and knee-high boots was his, and he wanted everyone to know it.
At the bar, she squeezed in between Kosta and another patron, not looking at either of them. Signaling the bartender, she crossed her arms on the counter and leaned over, giving anyone who chose to look a damned fine view of her cleavage.
And Kosta’s attention immediately dipped into the flesh on display. Blaze wanted to pound his face. But this was what they were counting on, what needed to happen. The man’s dark eyes never left Emma as she smiled, paid for the drinks, and returned to their table.
“Here you are, sir,” she said, sliding his beer in front of him. “Is he watching?”
“Like a rabid wolf. I think he plans to bide his time, though. Maybe he’s suspicious, or just trying to decide whether we suit his tastes.” Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close on the seat of the booth, tucking her into his side. With his free hand he toyed with the silver zipper on the front of her bra, lowered it a fraction at a time. “Let’s help him along, shall we?”
She licked her lips and lowered her gaze, hiding the trepidation that flashed there from prying eyes. The slight hitch in her breathing was noticeable only to him as he revealed more of her than she’d likely ever believed she’d willingly show a roomful of people—the party at Dietz’s hideaway notwithstanding. Parting the leather cups, he exposed h
er breasts, almost revealing her nipples. Almost, but not quite. One wrong move and she’d spill from the garment, and while such displays were par for the course in this type of establishment, he didn’t want to exploit her in public more than was necessary for the job.
Even if playing with her did make him hard as a friggin’ rock.
It wasn’t entirely for their target’s benefit when he traced the swell of her breasts and teased the edge of the leather bra where her nipple hid. Slipped his fingers inside and gave the little nub a light pinch with his thumb and forefinger, rolling it. She gave a gasp, pressing into his touch rather than away. So sensual, his baby.
“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”
Blaze looked up at the deep voice and into the rugged face of Augustine Kosta. He wasn’t a handsome man, but his presence was commanding. Dangerous. Dark hair was swept back from his face; dark eyes penetrated the soul of his quarry. Here was a man who demanded your attention and was used to getting it by whatever means necessary. He pushed every one of Blaze’s ass-kicking buttons, and reining in the compulsion was getting more difficult by the second.
“Please, have a seat,” he answered with false congeniality. He hoped Kosta couldn’t hear the note of threat in his voice. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Yes, thank you.” The man accepted offhand, almost as if the offer was simply due him.
He signaled a server, gritting his teeth. “Please bring the gentleman whatever he wants.”
“Scotch on the rocks.”
The server hurried away, and Blaze held out his hand. “John Chase. Nice to meet you.”
His target accepted, lips curving upward slightly. “Augustine Kosta. And who is the shining star on your arm?”
“Mr. Kosta, this is my wife, Brandi.” He gave Emma a squeeze. “You may address the gentleman, love.”
“Hello, it’s good to meet you,” she said pleasantly, glancing up at the man, then lowering her gaze respectfully again.
“Likewise, my dear,” he murmured, lust apparent in soulless, glittering eyes like onyx. He spoke to Blaze while still studying her. “You’ve trained her well, Mr. Chase.”
