Spy Games

by Cassandra Dee

  But Queen Bees never lose their sharp stingers.

  “Virgins?” trilled the old lady. “I don’t think so.”

  And I applauded silently at her rapier wit. Because yeah, we had virgin drinks in front of us but this was no group of physical virgins, no way.

  But evidently Tristan had had enough.

  “Daisy,” he nodded at me again. “Have fun with your friends,” he rumbled before walking off, the blonde hanging onto his arm.

  And the gasps and titters started up again.

  “Oh my god, your guardian is sooo hot!” giggled Carlie, her little form almost bouncing up and down in her seat. “Soooo hot!”

  “Get his pen, get his pen!” cooed Carrie-Ann, never far behind. “Do it, do it!”

  And I brushed them off.

  “Oh my god, you guys are so gross!” I scoffed even as I flushed inside. “He’s my guardian for crying out loud, he raised me since I was a little girl!” I would have explained more but thankfully didn’t have to since the girls were distracted by a junior banker type who’d just stopped by our table.

  “Ladies,” he said with exaggerated courtesy. “I’m Colin,” he introduced himself, “and this is my buddy Jason,” he said, pointing to another frat boy.

  And so the spotlight was off me for the moment as the gaggle of girls began chatting with the two dudes, eating up their muscles, engaging the meatheads in conversation. Except they’d been right on point without even knowing it. I wanted my Tristan’s pen, needed it, craved it … but who was that woman he was with? Jealousy coursed through me again, making me see red, then green. Oh god, I hated myself for feeling this way, but the dragon within me had woken.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tristan

  I lay in bed, restless, re-playing the scene in my head. Why the fuck had Daisy been out on the town? She’d been so fucking gorgeous in that red dress, every male head in the bar had swiveled at her entrance watching that female flesh jiggle and sway as she sashayed in. She was so entrancing, so nubile, and so fucking young.

  My hard-on grew just watching her across the room. The brunette was gorgeous, those brown suede boots caressing her calves, the juicy curve of her thigh outlined beneath the red fabric. Down boy! I growled at myself. We’re out in public, you don’t want to be parading a stiffie in front of the wrong crowd.

  But just the sight of Daisy had been too much and my pole inevitably became rock solid, hard and stiff in her presence. Unfortunately, Lydia had noticed as well.

  “Is that for me?” she simpered and giggled, eyeing my crotch lasciviously.

  I said nothing, choosing to ignore her. As smoothly as possible, I edged out of my suit jacket, draping it over my groin area discreetly. No need for people to notice my hard-on, keeping it covered was paramount given that we were surrounded by the cream of society at the moment, Upper East Siders with sharp eyes and loose tongues. Shit, wasn’t that Mayor Kane over in the corner? I nodded slightly, acknowledging the small man and his coterie, always in tune to the power elite.

  But it was time to beat feet, I’d had enough of the bullshit with the blonde, enough catering to Lydia and her whiny ways.

  “Come on,” I ground out, standing up while making sure to keep my groin covered. “Let’s go.”

  The blonde was more than happy, thinking that she was going to get a taste of my dong finally. She wrapped her arm around mine companionably, leaning close to my ear and whispering. I held myself still although creepy-crawlies were running up and down my spine from her presence.

  “You really do want to get that PrettyGirl deal done, don’t you?” she murmured slyly into my ear. “Paramount really has you scared don’t they?”

  She was referring to the upcoming auction for PrettyGirl magazine, a girlie mag that had hit the rocks recently. As a conglomerate, Marks Holdings has interests in several publications, from family and lifestyle magazines such as Michaels Living, to straight news outlets like World News, World Report and U.S. Global. More importantly, we’ve been looking to expand the “laddie mag” part of our reach because the 30-55 men’s demographic is so powerful, with a sizable chunk of disposable income and leisure time. So the acquisition of PrettyGirl was something Marks Holdings was definitely interested in and as its CEO, I was already sniffing out angles, sussing out the best way to make a deal.

  Unfortunately, Lydia’s company was likely a key player in the sale of the magazine. She was the head of Business Development at Blue Stone Media and we’d likely be bidding together for the asset, putting together a deal that would beat the other parties at the auction, making our offer too good to turn down.

  And so I had to respond civilly without giving anything away.

  “Paramount’s putting together a bid, sure,” I said casually, “but nothing we can’t match.”

  The blonde tittered.

  “Anything specific you’re throwing in the pot?” she asked, throwing me a sideways look. “Anything you want me to mention?”

  And this was exactly the reason why I was careful around the bitch. Lydia had a straight path to her boss at Blue Stone and was likely sleeping with the douche, mentioning all sorts of business tidbits as pillow talk. So I leaned in close and ground out, “Yeah, tell Dean we’re probably going to black out the retirement accounts.”

  Lydia just giggled upon hearing it.

  “Oh Tristan, you’re so bad!” she exclaimed, her thin frame shaking. “That’s so wrong, you’re going to run into a ton of ERISA regulations, it’ll make the lawyers so mad!”

  I nodded, my face like granite, giving nothing away.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said smoothly. “We got it covered.”

  Because I was merely throwing bait at her, red herring to lead Blue Stone astray. It was totally wrong information, we’d be idiots to mess with the maze of retirement accounts, take away the hard-earned cash of folks who’d worked years for PrettyGirl. Sure it was a girlie mag but it was a real company too with secretaries, administrative staff, receptionists, hard-working folks who’d been there their entire careers. Messing with their retirement accounts was like playing with fire and there was no way Marks Holdings was going to risk going afoul of the law.

  But Blue Stone didn’t have to know and so I merely leaned in closer, almost brushing Lydia’s ear with my lips.

  “They’ll never know,” I ground out. “They’ll take it up the ass and thank me for it.”

  At that, Lydia giggled even harder, her laughs becoming rapacious shrieks. The blonde really was a piece of work, entertained by the thought of hard-working Americans losing their retirement benefits in a series of mysterious corporate transfers. I detested the woman, cold snake that she was, but was careful to let none of my distaste show.

  “Oh Tristan,” she cooed. “I love how you’re so heartless, you’re so fucking mean,” she said breathily. “Now I really have to have you,” she winked. I had no intention of sleeping with her, of partaking in any physical contact with the skinny viper but I went along with the charade in order to get out of the Carlyle that much faster.

  “After you,” I jerked my head, making like I was so turned on by the mix of her evil charm that I’d erupt at any moment. “Let’s go,” I ground out, standing, my dark presence looming above the small table. But on our way out, we had to pass by the giggling group of girls seated by the door.

  “Daisy,” I said harshly, taking in the scene. What was wrong with these high school girls? Every single one of them was done up to the nines, dressed like they were twenty-five year old socialites with faces full of make-up and four-inch heels. What happened to innocent, sweet and demure?

  But my ward merely nodded at me, saying nothing but a slight, “Hi Tristan.” It was almost as if she couldn’t look at me, not really, her lips trembling slightly, eyes wide as she gazed around the bar, blinking quickly. Was it my imagination or did I see a slight tremor to her chin as well? Must have been my imagination because she swallowed heavily then, turning to me with bright eye
s, too bright really.

  “See you at home,” she said loudly before turning away again, feigning interest in the drink menu, her brow scrunching as she perused the fine print in the dim light.

  And I merely growled. Lydia and a blonde at the table exchanged some words, but I wasn’t following it, it was of no interest to me, the brunette was my focal point, the only thing that mattered in this situation. But I didn’t want to seem overly invested and so strode outside, putting an end to the interaction.

  And after entering the car, my thoughts still swirled. Why was this particular girl so entrancing to me? It was Daisy’s body sure, but so much more as well. It was the way she bit her lip when she saw me, almost unsure whether to say hello. It was the way we both knew we were playing with fire, the guardian / ward relationship taboo and yet so illicit, fucking arousing, out in front of a bunch of people. It was everything about her, come to think of it.

  So I got rid of Lydia stat, dropping off the blonde kicking and screaming at her apartment building, thinking only of the video of Daisy on my computer, how eager I was to watch it in the privacy of my room, my dick out as I worked the pole, my little brunette moaning on screen as I pulled myself to orgasm.

  But Lydia’s voice interrupted again as we pulled up to her building.

  “Sure you don’t want to come up?” she breathed, pushing her chest out at me. Little did she know but those measly A’s were like dried pieces of prune, nothing that I wanted to taste.

  “Naw,” I drawled, still thinking about the video. God, I loved that one segment when Daisy pulled her pussy lips wide, letting me see straight up her snatch. I’d rewound multiple times, pausing right when the camera caught her open slit, panting, groaning as I visually devoured her pulsing ruby red.

  And Lydia, for once, gave up sooner rather than later.

  “Fine,” she huffed, throwing herself out of the car. “Dean still wants this, I can get it anywhere,” she boasted.

  I just shook my head. This bitch was so unreal, talking about another man in front of me as though I gave two shits. And what was even worse was that Dean was her boss, she was openly admitting she was sleeping with the guy who signed her paychecks.

  “Tell Dean hello,” I said mildly as the door slammed, shutting out her angry face, and sat back as the car pulled away from the curb.

  “Home,” I growled. And the silence was a blessing after that trying experience, too long in the company of someone I found fucking annoying and distasteful, a gnat constantly buzzing around my ears.

  So I practically ran up the stairs to flick on my laptop, clicking on the Daisy icon, watching avidly as the little brunette enacted the scene in the bathroom again, caressing herself to heaven, moaning as I rubbed one out, my eyes glued to the screen. Fuck! She had a hold on me.

  But now hours later as I lay in bed, it still wasn’t enough. Sure, I’d come like a geyser, my seed splashing everywhere, drenching the laptop, my hand fucking wet with pulsing goo, dripping with the evidence of my lust. And after cleaning up, I’d switched off the light and forced myself to lie in the dark, my body sated momentarily, mind a haze of pleasure and satisfaction. Fuck, the brunette was enough to transport me out of my body without even being there in the flesh, she was that good, that tasty, so illicitly luscious and delectable.

  But the hours ticked by and my mind refused to switch off. Instead, all I could think about was the beautiful girl, the way she walked, the way she looked at me, those big brown eyes, the pouty, kissable lips. I tossed and turned, berating myself, forcing myself to count sheep, count backwards, count anything.

  But Daisy was like a haze in my brain and against my better judgment, I got out of bed, throwing the covers off, swinging my long legs over the edge.

  Like a man in a trance I stepped into the hallway, casting a massive shadow into the hall. I almost stopped then, coming to my senses. What the fuck was I thinking? Was I really going to make my way to my little ward’s room, look in on her?

  And like a madman telling himself lies, the voice in my head switched on. It’s just to make sure she got home okay, it reassured me. The girls weren’t having virgin drinks like they claimed, that shit was hard core liquor, no telling if Daisy was okay. Better make sure she’s asleep in her bed.

  And so against my better judgment, I made my way down the hall, across the sitting room, through the kitchen to the other end of the house. The fucking mansion was so huge that we were in separate wings, but even the five minute walk wasn’t enough to knock some sense into my head.

  Because now that I was here, standing in front of her closed door, I just wanted her even more. My body was on fire now, dick stiff and throbbing, making my pajama pants tent. My chest was bare, pecs tense, abs coiled and tight. Fuck! What was I thinking?

  But my hand reached out as if in a dream and slowly, so slowly, turned the knob of the door. I couldn’t see much in the darkness and stepped into the room, shutting the door quietly behind my massive form. Degree by degree, my eyes adjusted and I saw what I’d come to see. The girl was lying in bed, breathing peacefully, her expression serene, relaxed in slumber, and oh so fucking beautiful.

  Daisy was wearing nothing but a tiny tank top, a pair of cotton panties and knee high socks, having kicked her way out of her blankets. The tank top was almost translucent and I could see the darkness of her areola through the thin cotton fabric, the soft curves full and juicy. And her panties? They were the tiniest wisp of nothing, just a bit of pink and white lying gently against her cunt lips, outlining the plushy lips. If I stared, I could see a shadow right at her hole, a darkness there, a wet patch. Oh god, could it be? Was the little girl creaming in her sleep, dreaming of dick? Hopefully my dick?

  And as if in answer, the girl sighed then, shifting slightly and moaned a bit.

  “Tristan,” she murmured, moving restlessly, legs shifting oh so slightly, moving apart to give me a better view of her crotch. “Tristan,” she murmured again.

  And fuck yeah, it was on. The girl was dreaming of me and I watched with avid eyes as a wet spot grew on her panties, soaking the fabric. And never a shy pansy, I sprang into action. I had to see it up close, feel it for myself. Slowly, I prowled forward, big frame silent, looming in the darkness.

  As if on cue, the girl’s eyes popped open but she didn’t say anything at first, merely looking at me, caramel eyes wide, almost as if she’d expected me to be there.

  “Baby,” I growled. “I stopped by to make sure you were okay, that you got home okay.”

  The girl bit her lip, considering. This was clearly a stretch of the truth. I’d never been in her room, had never checked up on her before in the past. Was Daisy going to buy it?

  Evidently not because the brunette shook her head.

  “You could have called,” she said, closing her knees and sitting up in bed, throwing her brown curls over her back. Damn, she was probably referring to the in-house phone we had, used to reach each other in the huge mansion.

  “That’s right, I could have,” I said slowly, “but I wanted to make sure with my own eyes.”

  The brunette bit her lip, looking at me still. And taking a deep breath, she asked, “Who was that woman you were with?”

  My instincts clicked in place, a sudden jolt running through my frame. Was the little girl jealous? That was the only explanation for the sudden shift in the atmosphere. And oh god, but it made me happy.

  “Why?” I drawled, a smile running over my face. “You interested in getting to know her?”

  But the little brunette wouldn’t give up, instead pulling her knees up to her chin, shaking her head stubbornly. “No, just wondering,” she said, chin firm. “Who was that?”

  And I sighed in the darkness. I was here, in my ward’s room at midnight, both of us half-naked and we had to talk about this? A real conversation, now of all times, when I’d stalked her in her room? But I shook my head.

  “Lydia’s a business acquaintance, nothing else,” I ground out. “Don’t worry your
pretty little head about it.”

  But the little beauty refused to give in, expression tight.

  “She wasn’t just an acquaintance, acquaintances don’t act like that, especially not business ones. I’m not dumb, Tristan, I have eyes just like anyone else. I know she was something more.”

  And I had to give the girl credit for not taking things lying down.

  “Okay fine,” I ground out. “Lydia’s someone I dated a long time ago, and just so you know how long ago, it’s from long before you moved back to New Jersey. Lydia and I went out a couple times but it’s all over now. Has been for a long time,” I shrugged.

  But the brunette eyed me suspiciously still.

  “Then why was she all over you at the Carlyle? If it’s all over, why was she hanging on you like a jungle vine? Like,” and here she paused, chin trembling, “like you belonged to her!”

  And now I realized the extent of my little girl’s despair. Daisy couldn’t stand the fact that there might be another woman in the picture, another woman with ownership rights. But what did she expect? I was an adult male with ravenous appetites, I’d dated plenty of women, fucked many a model and actress.

  So I set her straight. Slowly, I sat down on the edge of her bed, the twin sagging under my bulk.

  “Daisy, you know I’m your guardian so I don’t owe you any answers. In fact, I’m not even legally your guardian anymore, so I doubly don’t answer to you. But in the interests of being open,” I ground out, “No, I’m not dating that woman. I don’t belong to any woman although I could. I’ve been around for decades now baby, I’m no virgin.”

  That startled the brunette.

  “No Tristan, I wasn’t implying that,” she said quickly, breasts rising ever so slightly. “I just wanted to know …”

  “You wanted to know my relationship status?” I asked, eyebrow raised.