"Damn, Anselm. That's a lot of detail to notice in one glance."
"I deal in information. It is what I do."
While shopping during the rest of the afternoon, Anselm and I played a game wherein he tried to teach me the art of noticing details. Walk by a car, and without stopping to look, memorize the contents of the interior. What clothing was the mannequin wearing in the window display we just passed? What brand of shoes is the man, about to turn the corner, wearing? The woman sending a text, passing us right now, what is she typing? Look as we pass by.
It was a fun diversion. I didn't notice as many things as he did, of course, but it was a fun game all the same.
And it served another purpose: it put Anselm at ease. It made him think I'm an easy mark. I'm not, though. I learn fast. Case in point? I asked him how to vanish when someone is watching you, and the silly man told me.
My plan was probably not going to work, but it was worth a shot. I knew the address of Nick's office here in LA. I asked Anselm to run into that bakery there real quick and get me a muffin. In a stroke of perfect timing, a cab stopped a few feet away and a woman got out. I hopped in, slammed the door and told the cabbie to step on it. Which was fun, because I'd always wanted to do that: slide into a cab and tell the driver, in an impatient voice, to step on it. Once we were moving, I gave him the address of the A1S LA office.
Thirty minutes later I was paying the cab driver and heading into the cool, marble-covered lobby. I took the elevator up to the tenth floor, suite C.
Michelle was at her desk, typing a million words a minute, a headset on, talking at the same time. After a minute, she ended the call and removed the headset. "Layla, what a surprise. I didn't know you were going to be joining us. Can I offer you a cup of coffee? Mr. Harris is out at the moment, but he should be returning any minute."
"No thanks. I'll just wait in his office." I moved past her desk to the double doors of Nick's office.
Michelle shot to her feet and followed me. "Oh, I, um, don't think I can let you go in there alone."
I stopped, my hand on the knob. "Why not? I'm his girlfriend. I live with him. I work for him. What am I going to do?"
She blinked at me, clearly uncomfortable and unsure. "It's just I've got standing orders that no one is allowed in there but him unless he's expecting them and sends them in. He's very territorial about that kind of thing. I'm sure you understand."
I put on a certain...knowing...expression. "I get that. But he doesn't know I'm here, and I just want to...surprise him. Know what I mean?"
Michelle, bless her heart, blushed. "Oh. Ohhhhh. I--I see. I guess it would be okay. Just..."
"If he gets mad at you, I'll take the blame. I could punch you, and say I overpowered you, if you want."
Michelle backed up quickly. "No, that's...that's fine. It's fine."
"Don't tell him I'm in here, 'kay?"
"Sure, no problem."
I went in, then, closing the door behind me. God, this office was fucking bland as hell. He was never here, though, so it made sense. It was just a space to work in if he had to be in LA for some reason. Big desk, a filing cabinet, a computer, some pens, a couch, a view of a suburban park. Nothing special.
This, too, was all a part of my plan. I was sick of being left out and left behind. I could help Nick out in the field if he would just trust me and stop treating me as if I were helpless. Don't get me wrong, I love that he protects me. That he doesn't want anything like what happened in Brazil to ever happen again. I don't want that either. At least not the kidnapping and almost being raped part. But the car chase and the shooting and all that? It was...fun. Exciting. The adrenaline rush was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. And I didn't panic, you know? Which means I could do it again, with practice, and get better at it. Learn soldiering, spying, and driving techniques. Be like one of Charlie's Angels.
It'd be cool.
But I have to play my cards right. Nick specifically told me to stay in Colorado, which I didn't do, obviously. Now I'm here, and he'll be pissed unless I can get him, shall we say, in a more vulnerable state of mind. By which I mean, he's always more amenable to my crazier ideas when I've just made him come a few times. So now that I'm here, I'll give him a killer BJ under his desk, and maybe he'll bring me along.
Crazy?
Probably.
Bound to backfire?
Most likely.
Stupid, foolish, and in every way unwise?
Absolutely.
Nick will be pissed. He might even spank me, or better yet, actually tie me up.
A girl can hope, right?
4
CHANGE OF PLANS
I was on the elevator up to our offices in LA, fresh from the scene of the abduction, where Puck was still working, gathering evidence. I had Lear working his computer magic: scouring video feeds across the city for matches of the van caught on Jon and Callie's security camera. Thresh and Duke were pumping their sources from among the less savory elements of the mercenary community, hoping to shake loose some info on who could or would attempt this abduction. Because even among mercenaries, it takes a special kind of sick to fuck with little kids. So the pool of candidates with the skills necessary to get past the kind of security Jon and Callie had, plus the lack of morals necessary to shoot women and kidnap children was, in fact, fairly small.
The elevator doors opened, admitting me into the hallway outside our suite of offices and just then my phone rang.
"Anselm," I answered, after checking the caller ID. "What's going on?"
"Your woman, she is a tricky one."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
"It means she gave me a slip."
"Gave you the slip?" I asked. "You're a professional spook, man. How did she get away from you?"
"It was pretty simple, actually. She could be a very good spy, I think. She lulled me into...what is the word? Complaint? Compliance? Something like that. Made me think she was content to only shop, ja? She asked me to get her a muffin, and when I returned with it, she was in a cab, and gone."
"And you followed her?"
"No, there was no point. I tagged her purse with a tracker. She is in your office."
"I can't believe she gave you the slip, Anselm."
"I told you, she is very good. You should get her out of the office more. She could be of much use in the field, I think."
"She's a loose goddamn cannon. You don't even know. She never listens."
"But a woman with her intelligence and skills, left to her own boredom? Not so good."
I laughed. "No, you're probably right. Okay, well, I'm about to go into my office now. Gotta deal with this."
"Very well. I'll find Thresh and Duke."
"No, stay out in the shadows. I need you as insurance."
"This is LA. There are no shadows."
"Don't be so literal. You know what I meant."
He chuckled. "Yes." A pause. "Complacence, that is the word I was thinking of. Anyway, auf wiedersehen."
"Yeah, talk to you later."
I stood outside the door to my office, mentally preparing myself to go to war with a Layla determined to have to her own way. I couldn't let her seduce me into giving in; that was her main M.O., and fuck me if she wasn't damned good at it, too.
Stay strong, Nick. No matter what she does, keep telling her no. Promise her you'll train her to go on more field ops. But do not allow her to think she can just do whatever she wants and get away with it.
I blew out a breath and shot a glance at Michelle, who was working a little too hard on appearing innocent. "Go take lunch, Michelle. And lock the door behind you."
Michelle took off her headset, shut down her computer, shouldered her purse, and stood up. "Mr. Harris, I--"
"You're cool, Michelle. No worries. Just go, and don't come back for...an hour or so, I'd say."
"Yes sir." She ducked her head and scurried out of the suite, locking the glass door behind her.
I took another breat
h.
Let's be clear, here: I'm not afraid of Layla.
But she does have a hell of a temper, and she does have a talent for verbally thrashing anyone who gets in her way, including me.
And she does have a way of fucking with my head until I don't know which way is up or even what I was originally trying to accomplish. I mean, she gets those goddamn soft hands on me, puts those plump, sweet, fuckable lips on me, and I lose all sense. It's a fucking problem.
I shoved open my door, opened my mouth to berate her, and promptly lost all capacity for thought.
Mainly because the second I set eyes on Layla all the blood left my brain and went down into my cock. In the words of the late, great Robin Williams: "God gave men both a penis and a brain, but unfortunately not enough blood supply to run both at the same time."
She was leaning back in my desk chair, feet propped up on the edge my desk. Leaning way, way back, almost to the tipping point. Knees splayed apart. Stark naked. Hair loose and wild and all in her face. Fingers working her clit like mad, hips gyrating. Making this quiet, subdued, but intensely erotic sighing noise as she got closer and closer. I know when my woman is close to coming, and she was right there, riding that razor edge. Tits thrust into the air, lower lip caught between her teeth in an effort to keep quiet. She had her pussy lips spread apart with one hand, two middle fingers working herself with the other.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
How does she manage this shit? How did she know exactly when I'd be walking in? How the hell does she do it?
Instantly, I was hard as a goddamn rock. Stomping across the office, breath coming hard and fast. Fingers working my fly, pulling myself out.
She knew I was there, but she ignored me until I was right beside her and then she cut me a look, shifted her gaze from my stormy expression to my rigid cock gripped in one fist.
"Yeah, baby," she murmured. "Jerk it hard. Watch me come."
"I have a better idea," I told her. "How about you keep doing what you're doing, but put that sexy mouth of yours to work?"
Layla leaned further back yet in my chair, which was, fortunately, one of the expensive ones that could recline almost horizontal. She stretched her body out, feet kicking the paperwork off my desk. She turned her head to the side, fingers of one hand still circling madly around her clit. She shot a look up at me, opening her mouth for me. I fed her my cock, inch by inch, and she took it all. God, it should be impossible, but she does it. She takes every last fucking inch of me, every time. And god, does it feel good. Too good.
Talk about multi-tasking. My girl was working both of us hard and fast now. Flicking herself and sucking me.
And then, abruptly, she lost the ability to multi-task. She started coming and nearly bit down on my cock. I pulled out of her mouth, straddled the chair, sucked her nipple into my mouth, pinched the other one hard enough to elicit a flinch from her even as she screamed through her release.
I kicked off my shoes, shoved my pants and underwear off and stepped out of them while Layla kept coming, wave after wave wracking her, fingers still circling crazily. Grabbing her heels, I wrapped them around my waist, cupped her big beautiful ass in my hands, and shoved myself in, slamming into her pussy hard and deep.
Pretty sure whoever was on the floors both above and below us heard her scream.
I moved with her, thrusting into her slowly, sinuously, taking my time. Keeping her on the edge. Keeping her hot and wild. She hung her head backward, hair draping onto the floor, one of her hands now playing with her nipples, the other going crazy between her legs.
Surreptitiously, I reached into a drawer of my desk and pulled out a handful of zip-ties. Yes, I keep zip-ties in my desk drawer--don't ask. I grabbed her hand quick as a striking snake and zipped a tie around her wrist and the arm of the chair, tugged it tight enough to bind, but not so tight it would hurt her. That caught her attention.
She instantly stilled. "Nick?" She wiggled her wrist. "What the fuck are you doing?"
I ignored her question, securing her other wrist.
"What are you doing here, Layla? I told you to stay in Colorado."
She glared at me, testing the strength of her bonds. "Yeah, well, I didn't listen, did I?"
"And now look at you, tied to my chair."
I was still hard, and she was flushed and flustered, frustrated from having been right on the edge of orgasm. I thrust into her, feeling the need to come surging inside me and holding it back.
"Let me go."
"Not a chance, babe." I kept moving, slow, shallow, teasing thrusts, not enough to get her off.
"Then at least help me come." She lifted her hips against mine, trying to get more of me.
I flicked at her erect nipple. "I might. Eventually." I pulled out, gripped my cock, and used the head of it like a dildo, smearing it in circles against the rigid little pearl of her clit until she was writhing and gasping, jerking at the zip-ties, hips gyrating.
"God, Nick, please--yes, right there, just like that, god, please don't stop, Nick--"
I felt her clenching, tensing. Watched the way her hips rose involuntarily off the chair, watched the way her breathing went hoarse and ragged, making her goddamned perfect tits bounce and sway in the sunlight streaming in through the open windows.
When I judged her to be seconds from coming, I pulled away completely. "You need to learn to listen to me, Layla."
She went crazy, jerking upright, planting her feet on the floor, tugging ferociously at the bonds. "Nick, you bastard! I was right there!"
I moved us, swiveling the chair so we were parallel with the desk and the wall. Knelt down, threw her feet over my shoulder. "How close were you, Layla?"
She moaned as I kissed the inside of her thigh. "Right the fuck there, baby. I was--Jesus, please, keep going. I was so close. So fucking close."
I kept kissing upward, teased the swollen, wet lips of her pussy with my tongue, and then kissed down the other thigh, eliciting a series of increasingly frantic whimpers from her, culminating in a crazed, wild shriek of frustration when I moved away.
"You're such a dick, Nicholas," she snarled. "You can forget about getting any more BJs out of me, if this is the game you're gonna play."
I stood up, then. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
I stood directly in front of her, cock hard and upright, swaying in front of her face. I moved closer, so it was centimeters from her mouth. "I know you better than that," I said, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "You love the taste of my cock, don't you?"
She shook her head, closed her eyes. "No."
"You love it best when it's been inside you, first. You love tasting yourself on my cock, you dirty girl." I backed away, cupped the back of her head with one hand, pulling her closer. I gripped my cock in the other hand and traced her lips with the tip. "You smell your juice on me? I was close, you know. Probably a little pre-come on there."
Layla's nostrils flared. Her lips parted. "You asshole."
"I know you, baby. I know what you like. I know what you love. You want it, right now, don't you?"
"No..." she said, but her mouth opened. Her tongue flicked out. Touched the groove. She whimpered. "Fuck you. God, fuck you for being right," she whimpered.
She slid her lips around the head of my cock, tongue swirling, bobbing down, backing away. She licked up the side and went to pull me back into her mouth again, but I had other plans.
"Ah ah ah. Not so fast," I scolded, backing away.
I grabbed her ankle and tipped her and the chair backward, so far back she was off-balance. Helpless, tied to the chair, whimpering and moaning. I gripped my cock again and plunged into her. Hard, fast. One thrust. Two. Three. A fourth. No mercy, no gentility. Just hard, rough fucking, the way she loved it best. I kept going until she was into it, moving with me as best she could while bound to the chair.
And then I stopped. Pulled out. Ignored her curses, ignored the names she called me--bastard, cocksuc
ker, dickhead, motherfucking asshole. Worked the head of my dick against her clit again, slow and soft, smearing her juices around her.
"You're fucking soaked, Layla," I said. I slid two fingers into her slit, scooped her essence out and touched it to her lips. "Taste that? That's all you, baby. That beautiful smell is all you."
I let her fall forward again and then I moved in so I was straddling her knees, cock close to her face. She was frantic now, eyes wide and wild, breathing hard, tits rising and falling. I cupped the back of her head and put the crown of my cock to her lips.
"Taste it, baby."
She tasted it. Fuck, did she taste it. Moaned as she sank her mouth on me greedily. Turned her head sideways and mouthed the girth of my shaft, one side and then the other, licked it like an ice cream cone, and then sank her mouth on me, worked me, bobbing slowly, tongue moving, swirling, tickling.
I let this go on until I was riding the edge, and then pulled away.
"Fucking hell, Nick. What game are you playing?" she tossed her head to get the hair out of her face, spat strands out of her mouth.
I knelt between her thighs, brushed the hair away. "I've got you tied up, babe. I'm getting all the mileage out of this I can. You're helpless, and Michelle won't be back for an hour. I might just tease you and I both for the whole time. Make us both a little crazy."
I dove in, then, not bothering to listen to her response as I sucked her clit between my teeth. Teased her with my tongue, plied her clit with kisses, stroked the seam with licks, worked her into a frenzy, got her right at the edge, and then...
Stood up.
Thrust my cock into her mouth, once. Let her taste us on her tongue, and then pulled free.
I notched myself against her entrance, tilted her and the chair back, and slid in. Slowly, this time.
Taking my time. Pushed in deep, pulled out gradually. Feathered a slow, stuttering thrust back in.
No rhythm. No pattern.
Slow.
Slow.
And then once, hard; Layla shrieked at that one.
"What do you want, Nick?" She was close to sobbing, so close to coming she would have agreed to anything if I would just let her come. "Tell me what you want!"
I leaned in and slashed my mouth across hers, kissed her hard, kissed her breathless. "Are you getting desperate, Layla?"
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