ALTERED BY FIRE: UNDERCOVER SINNERS BOOK 1

by James Tate

  He reaches out and palms my tits in his hands, rolling my nipples between his fingers as he continues his lazy pace with small thrusts of his hips. Bound as I am, I'm totally helpless to make him move faster, to give me what I want. And that’s exactly what he wants …

  "You're dying to say something; I can see it all over your face," he comments, pinching my nipples sharply and making me cry out. "I'm impressed that you haven't cracked yet. Maybe you really can be trained." His fingers pinch my nipples again, but I'm expecting it this time and just moan into the sensation.

  A noise from somewhere else in the church makes me gasp, and I look askance at Hawke, who frowns in the direction of the noise, over my head. When he sees who it is, he simply rolls his eyes and continues thrusting into me.

  Just as I open my mouth to ask what's going on, I get my answer with the smell of cigarettes and bourbon as Arsen licks the side of my face.

  "Arsen," I moan, feeling my pussy tighten with excitement that he's come to join us. He'd been so silent since Hawke began tying me down, I really had forgotten he was there.

  "Natalia," Hawke sighs, gripping my waist tight enough to bruise, "What did I tell you about speaking?"

  I mew a small, half-hearted protest, but it's Arsen who responds. "Don't stress it boss, I'll take care of this naughty mouth." He meets my gaze, upside down as he leans over me from above, and his own ice-blue eyes flickering with insanity. I have a solid idea of what he means by that, and I can't fucking wait.

  My tongue darts out of my mouth and drags over my lips suggestively as Arsen's hand caresses my throat.

  "Fine," Hawke grunts, "but hurry the hell up. We're expecting a visit from Sister Frances later, and I still need to clear all of this up."

  "Yes, sir," Arsen mocks, hauling himself up onto the altar above my head and tossing his robes back dramatically. He's already freed his cock from his black slacks, and he slaps it against my cheek as he positions himself. "Open up, Miss Petrova. I wanna see you suck my cock just as good as you did Colt's in the confessional."

  Awash with excitement and arousal, I open my lips as commanded and Arsen roughly jams his dick down my throat without ceremony. For a moment, I choke and panic, but my years of experience reign supreme as my throat relaxes, and I suck air through my nose.

  "Fuck yeah, bitch. Just like that," Arsen growls, fucking my mouth as I do my best to suck and lick at his shaft. Without hands, I can only do so much, but the helplessness seems to be half the turn on here.

  Hawke, too, increases his pace, pounding into my pussy like he has something to prove. It's a shame I can't see him, what with Arsen straddling my face, but just knowing the two of them are screwing me with their collars and robes on is sending me into a spiral that I just know will result in multiple orgasms.

  From the way my head is tilted, all I can see—other than Arsen's balls—is the side door to the church and the wooden cross hanging over it.

  Gagged as I am with Arsen's cock, all I can do is moan as these two dirty fake priests take me hard and fast. Hawke's fingers dance across my clit, flicking and pinching at my ultra-charged nerve endings, and I release a muffled scream along with my first orgasm.

  There's more to come, though; I can feel them building like a set of waves and the third is always the biggest.

  Just as I think I'm about to skip into my second, Hawke withdraws from me completely. I cry out a protest around Arsen's dick, trying to wiggle my tightly bound hips in encouragement, but I barely move an inch.

  "Shh," Arsen purrs, stroking the column of my neck. "Hawke's just getting an extra little treat for you. Now keep sucking, you have a mouth like a fucking Hoover, and I'm just dying to come down your throat."

  An extra little treat? I'm not left wondering for long, as something cold and hard is stroked down the length of my cunt and then dipped inside. It's not quite as thick as Hawke's cock, but it's long and Hawke pumps it in and out of me a few times before dragging it down to my asshole.

  "Fuck yeah," Arsen encourages as his fingers grip my throat.

  Hawke responds by pressing the object against my tight hole, breaching the ring of muscle slowly and making me cry out with ecstasy. Whatever he's using, it's been thoroughly lubed with my own juices so offers little resistance as he pushes it further inside me.

  "Perfect," Hawke breathes when he's inserted the round object as far as he wants. "How's that, Natalia?"

  I moan my muffled approval, and Arsen chuckles a dark sound.

  "I'd say she fucking loves it," Arsen replies for me, withdrawing his cock from my mouth and slapping it across my face. "What do you think, Miss Petrova?" He allows me enough space to raise my head just an inch, to look down between my legs.

  "Holy shit," I breathe, seeing the white tip of a candle protruding from my ass. "Fuck yes."

  Both men laugh and Arsen gives me no further respite before holding my jaw open and shoving his rock-hard erection back into my mouth. I feel Hawke shift, his hot cock pressing back inside me, only this time it’s with the extra stretch of having my asshole filled at the same time.

  When Hawke bottoms out, filling my pussy just as the candle is filling my ass, I scream into my next orgasm. I've mentioned before that I'm one of those lucky bitches who can orgasm on vaginal penetration only, but this is just next level.

  Hawke grunts curses as he pounds into me, and I know he's close. Arsen, too, as I can see his balls tightening and feel his shaft beginning to pulse against my tongue. I need to come one more time, but have a feeling that won't be any issue the way this is going.

  "Use your teeth," Arsen orders me, and I oblige, scraping my teeth along his length as he pumps into my mouth. He's insane, so I know he gets off on the danger, and I press harder than I usually would, which seems to work for him. "Shit yeah," he grunts, his hand tightening around my neck.

  He starts coming as his hand tightens even further, and my vision starts to go black from lack of oxygen. I don't want him to stop though, not for a fucking second. He pulls out of my mouth abruptly, coming on my tongue instead of the back of my throat where I can't taste it, and I swallow.

  "Fuck," Hawke swears as I put on a show of licking Arsen’s slick tip, and then Hawke’s coming, too. As he finishes, he abruptly yanks the candle back out of my ass, and I spiral into my third orgasm, screaming as my body convulses and shivers through the overwhelming sensations.

  As my cries fade, the sound of something hitting the floor jolts us from the post-sex haze.

  "Shit!" Hawke yells, leaping off me while Arsen begins cackling with laughter.

  "What is it?" I demand, but Arsen just seals his lips to mine, kissing me deeply before releasing my face.

  "That was fun. Let's do it again, sometime." Without any further explanation, he hops off the altar and saunters away, whistling like a fruit loop.

  Unobstructed by his body, I can turn my head just enough to see Hawke crouched over someone in the aisle of the church and doing what seems like … chest compressions?

  "Hawke! What the fuck is going on? Who is that?" I demand, thrashing against my bonds but getting nowhere. Hawke seriously knew what he was doing when he tied me down.

  "Fuck, where the fuck did Arsen just go?" he bellows back at me, looking panicked.

  "How the fuck do I know? I'm a little tied down here!" I scream back at him, freaking out because he's freaking out. "Who is that?"

  "Fucking fuck!" Hawke curses. "It's Sister Frances. I think she just had a heart attack when she saw us … you know …"

  "Oh for the love of God," I exclaim, and the irony is not lost on me. "Untie me, so I can get help!"

  "I can't," he pants. "I have to keep up compressions."

  I groan, and tug on my restraints again. This is not cool. For several minutes I just lie there on my back, my legs spread and the result of my own orgasms slick on my cunt, until thankfully someone else shows up.

  "What … the shit have you been up to in here?" Weston grins, entering from the doorway that le
ads to the living quarters. He’s dressed casually in sweats and a T-shirt, with his arm in a sling to protect his gunshot wound.

  "West," I exclaim. "Thank fuck! Can you untie me, please?"

  The tall, Asian man stands beside the altar for a while, running his eyes over me like he’s considering not letting me go, before tugging on a few cords and magically freeing me.

  "Thank you," I sigh, unwrapping the silken cord from my limbs and shaking out some stiffness.

  "What happened to the old broad?" he asks, jerking his head toward Hawke who’s still counting out compressions on the woman's chest.

  "Uh, I think she walked in while Hawke and Arsen were fucking me in their priest robes," I admit, not even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It was fucking epic sex, nothing to be ashamed of there!

  "She had a heart attack," Hawke informs us, grunting as he keeps his rhythm.

  I frown. "Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"

  "Can't." Weston shakes his head and passes me my panties from off the angel’s head. "It'd risk blowing our cover. Besides, I'm pretty sure she's a goner, Hawke."

  Hawke sighs, sitting back and mopping sweat from his forehead with his robes. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure she is, too. Alright, go grab Colt for me. We’ll need to set her up to look like this happened in her own home."

  "You got it, boss," Weston replies with a little mock salute before disappearing back the way he came.

  "What do you need me to do?" I ask, sliding off the edge of the altar and dragging my sweatpants on. "Carry her bible or something?" I nudge the heavy book with my toe and realize that was the sound we'd heard at the end of my climax. The old nun must have dropped the book in shock.

  "You don't seem in the least bit concerned about the presence of a dead woman," Hawke observes me with narrowed eyes. "Have you really seen so much death in your life that this doesn't affect you?"

  I give a shrug. "Pretty much. So how can I help?"

  Hawke sighs again. "Just go up to your room and take it easy. You'll be pretty sore from that training session today, and I expect you'll have one or two bruises coming up."

  "I'm sure I will," I agree with a saucy sounding murmur. Hawke has his no-nonsense voice on, though, so I do as he tells me and head out of the church and up the stairs to my little room.

  Once my door is closed, I strip out of my sweaty clothes and stand naked in front of the mirror. Hawke was right: my body’s already showing the shadows of multiple bruises from his fists, but the ones that make me smile are smaller. Fingerprint sized. On my thighs, my waist, my breasts, and darkest of all … around my neck.

  I shiver as I remember the feeling of the ropes binding me, of Arsen's hand around my throat and Hawke’s pinning my thighs. I'm playing with fire, and I fucking love it.

  Chapter 13

  COLT

  I'm laughing so hard I have to dab at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt before looking back over at Hawke.

  "You're kidding me," I say again, still not totally believing what I’m hearing.

  "I wish I was," Hawke murmurs, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "Right as Natalia is coming for the third time, Sister Francis has a heart attack. If she hadn't dropped that huge fucking bible, we probably wouldn't have noticed, Natalia was screaming so loud."

  I burst out in another peal of laughter. It’s too damn funny. I mean, shit about the nun dying—that's never ideal—but seriously … how long had she been standing there watching?

  "So much for locking the door, huh boss?" Mace snickers from the backseat where he's strapped in beside Sister Frances' corpse.

  Hawke growls. "I did lock the fucking door. Turns out, she had a key."

  We all snicker at this one. What are the odds? That poor old woman would have had the fright of her life watching two "priests" fucking the stuffing out of a naked girl tied to the altar.

  "Was it worth it though?" Mace asks with a faraway look on his face that makes me double take.

  Hawke must see him in the mirror too, because he jerks a quick look at Mace over his shoulder. "You can't tell me you haven't …"

  "Sure you have." I frown, turning in my seat to look at the big man. "You had that trip to the gun range, and we all know how hot it is to see a chick that can shoot. You want to tell us you didn't nail her in the Hummer?"

  Mace gives me a weird look. Like he’s constipated or something, but I’m not getting it.

  “Mace?” Hawke prompts and the big man gusts out a heavy sigh.

  “No, I didn’t. Talia … she’s different. She’s not like Portia. I kind of like her, you know?” Mace is clearly not thinking about what he’s saying, and my eyes dart quickly over to Hawke whose knuckles are turning white on the steering wheel. “Not that I didn’t like Portia, it’s just … Talia.”

  “Don’t forget,” Hawke snarls from between clenched teeth, “we are using her. We need her to love us. Not the other way around. This job has no room for real emotions, Mace. Not from us. You know that.”

  “I know, boss,” Mace snaps back. “I’m not stupid. I just wasn’t in the mood to stick my dick in her in the back of my car.”

  Hawke and I exchange a look. In all the years we’ve known Mace, he’s never not been in the mood. This is bad. Real bad.

  “Buddy, do us a favor when we get back to the church?” I say with a nervous laugh. “And get that monster cock of yours wet. I think this priest disguise is messing with your head. Making you into a nice guy or some shit. Trust me, a good thorough bang with that hellcat will set you straight.”

  Mace glares at me so hard that I turn back around in my seat. Scary ass motherfucker.

  “I’ll think about it,” he says in a quiet, angry voice.

  “You’ll do it,” Hawke snaps, “that’s an order.”

  Mace grunts his understanding and a tense sort of silence falls over the three of us.

  “And stop talking about fucking Portia,” Hawke adds after a long pause, “She’s dead, and soon enough Konstantin Petrov will follow. We don’t need to keep taking trips down memory fucking lane.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Mace mutters, and I murmur my understanding.

  Hawke’s hands are still clenched tight on the steering wheel, and I keep watch from the corner of my eye. He and Arsen fell the hardest for Portia, even if they’ll never admit it. Taking this job was supposed to be cathartic, closure for us all … except I doubt any of us expected Natalia … Tzarina.

  I cover my smile with a hand, lest Hawke think I’m smiling at him.

  God forbid. He’ll totally kick my ass.

  “This must be it,” Hawke mutters, pulling into the driveway of a little cottage. “Let's get her inside and set the scene before anyone sees us.”

  The three of us fall into business mode. I take lookout, as usual, while Hawke picks the old bird's lock and Mace hauls her dead body inside. The aim is just to drop her somewhere inside, so it looks like she had her heart attack here and not in our undercover base.

  We work as a well-oiled machine, and the stage is set in under five minutes. Another thirty seconds sees all traces of us erased and back on the road. We're in a stolen car, which we’ll change the plates on as soon as we we’re back, so there's no real danger if any of Sister Frances' neighbors saw us pull up.

  "Still can't believe you killed a nun," I mutter with a cheeky grin as I glance at Hawke. "That must have been some explicit sex to give the old duck a heart attack."

  Hawke shoots me a glare. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, as old as she was, it was bound to happen sooner or later."

  "What?" Mace snorts a laugh. "Walking in on two priests fucking a chick tied to the church altar? Yeah, that shit happens all the damn time."

  "In your case, it damn well should," Hawke snaps, and the warning is clear.

  Shifting to turn in my seat, I give Mace a grin. "Don't worry, bro. I have an eight ball in my room if you need a little Colombian Marching Powder to get the job done. We all know you fuck like a demon on coke."


  "Colt," Hawke barks, and I slide back into my seat. He's such a stiff sometimes, considering what we do for a living. I mean fuck, he just killed a nun and he wants to give me shit for drugs? "Are you all set for this Sunday? Arsen's intel suggests Petrov is changing his routine, so he could pick our church as soon as this week."

  "Yes, boss," I sigh. "All prepped and ready on my end. Are we still expecting the high-ranking members, or have they gotten cautious?"

  "So far, seems to be the same pay grade doing the exchanges," Hawke confirmed.

  The whole reason we're set up in the church as fake priests is because Petrov has been using the holy ground as a convenient location to make drug and money exchanges. We've known this for ages, so have the feds, but the local Bishop has refused any sort of stakeouts on church land without proof that they’re housing illegal activity.

  Lucky for us, we don't give a rat’s ass about rules. When we saw an opportunity open, with a new priest coming to take over Our Lady of Sorrows, we just swooped in and took his place. Not that we killed the guy; this incident with Sister Frances is a total accident. Father James is just tied up in the basement until our job is done and Petrov is dead.

  Our plan, if all goes accordingly, is to identify the members of Petrov's mob and pluck them off one by one until he has no support system in place to take over. And then kill him, of course.

  "He's a smart prick, I'll give him that," I mutter aloud as I stare out the window, a bit lost in my own thoughts.

  "Who is?" Hawke asks.

  "Petrov," I clarify. "Keeping the identities of his inner circle secret is a fucking smart move for a mobster. If we'd known who they all were, this bullshit would be over and done with by now."