Black Ops 03 - Deadly Games

by Cate Noble

  “Rocco, I want you. I want this.” Her voice wavered as she undulated her hips again. “But I don’t know what to do.”

  “Luckily, Ido. I suggest we go inside, to the bedroom.” Condoms and hot tubs did not mix. “Hold on.”

  Steam wafted from their skin as Rocco stood, cradling her as he climbed out. Gena kept her arms around his neck, giving him a bird’s-eye view of her glorious breasts.

  At the door, he lowered her and grabbed the towels he’d left out earlier. He unfolded one, wrapped it around her shoulders, covering temptation so he could think. Talk.

  “Are you sure about this, Gena?” he asked. “Because once we start …” Rocco wasn’t as certain he could pull back. He’d wanted her too damn long.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you, Rocco. So much it scares me.”

  He could have beat his chest and run around the deck doing war whoops. Instead he tugged her wet hair free and began squeezing the long length with another towel.

  “Let’s get you dry,” he said.

  Gena squirmed and kicked off her wet swimsuit bottom, leaving her completely naked except for the towel around her shoulders.

  “Your turn,” she said as her hands shoved the waistband of his trunks down from his hips.

  Gena stared at his exposed erection, her wide eyes confirming that she’d probably seen few men naked. Which pleased him. Because if he had anything to do with it, she’d never see another naked man except him.

  Rocco stood still, enjoying watching her visually satisfy her curiosity. She inched toward him, allowing his cock to rub against her abdomen. Again he let her set the pace, let her close the distance until their bodies were pressed fully together. His cock was in heaven each time she moved against him.

  She lifted onto tiptoe for a kiss, but as she shifted her movements grew fretful again.

  “Easy, princess. I’ve got you.” Taking her up in his arms, Rocco carried her into the bedroom and set her down on the mattress before switching on a low-watt lamp. Soft light bathed her skin.

  Reaching into the nightstand, he grabbed a couple of condoms, then tossed them on the nightstand, never taking his eyes off Gena.

  She had scooted farther back on the bed, reclining slightly on her forearms, allowing him to visually sate his curiosity as well. Her breasts were full and high, and her hips flared outward from her slender waist. Light blond hair covered her pubic mound.

  He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her but not quite touching. He held still and let her arch against him, exploring the rhythm of what she wanted.

  “You’re so beautiful, Gena.” He kissed her and slowly lowered his hips, easing her legs apart to just lie against her. She was wet. Warm. Trusting.

  Rocco eased kisses down her neck to her breasts, mouthing one nipple then the other before giving in to the temptation to suck.

  Gena hissed in approval. Her hands slid through his hair, holding him in place as he showered her breasts with kisses and licks. She bucked her hips, thrusting upward.

  When Rocco rolled off to the side, she grabbed for him, closing her fist around his shaft.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

  He had no intention of stopping. “I just want to slow it down.” She still had her hand on his cock and he arched forward against her palm. “I want to savor every touch.”

  She rolled onto her side, too. Her breasts jutted forward, the tips teasing the hair on his chest as she continued stroking his shaft. “Do you like when I touch you?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah.” Rocco laid a hand on her hip, caressing her curves, following the indent of her abdomen, lower to tease her soft nest of curls.

  He cupped her, felt the slight withdrawal over the shock of feeling his hand in such an intimate place. But within seconds she relaxed, opening ever so slightly, letting him feel her heat. He caressed her with his thumb and was rewarded with a moan.

  “Spread your legs,” he urged. Then he slid his middle finger partway into her tightness.

  He felt her instinctively press down. Pulling back slightly, he shifted his hand, letting his thumb rub her clitoris as he pushed his finger up into her again.

  “Oh!” Gena pitched her hips forward as she sought the sensation again.

  “Feel good?”

  She nodded. “Does it feel that way for you, too?”

  Rocco flexed his hips. “Different, but good. In fact, if you’d grip me more firmly—” She immediately tightened her hand. “That’s it.”

  He worked two fingers inside her, then leaned down and caught her nipple in his mouth. This time as he sucked, Gena rubbed rhythmically against his hand.

  “I … I’ve never,” she said, panting, “felt this way.”

  Rocco felt ready to explode. Part of him wished they could go on like this for longer and maybe next time they would. He reached for a condom and sheathed himself.

  Gena watched. “It looks so big and … hard. Now what?”

  “Just relax, sweetheart. It’ll unfold naturally.”

  She lay back against the pillow. Rocco eased up over her and then lowered himself slowly, barely rocking his hips. As Gena increased the rhythm, he met it.

  He suckled her breasts as he eased his cock partway inside her. Feeling the heat and wetness there was totally different from what he’d felt with his fingers.

  Gena tried to arch against him, frantic.

  “Raise your legs, sweetheart,” he urged. “It will help.”

  She did. They both cried out as Rocco slid deeper, but not all the way in.

  “Please. More!” Gena demanded. “I want it all. All of you.”

  Her words undid him. With a groan he pushed in farther, felt her tightness increase. Gena writhed beneath him, taking in more and more before losing control.

  When her orgasm hit, she screamed his name and bucked her hips, shattering his control. Surging forward, Rocco rocked all the way up, all the way inside Gena.

  Home.

  Then without another move, he had the most powerful orgasm of his life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Thailand, Uncertain Location

  October 5, Unknown Time

  The last time Maddy had been transported, she hadn’t been drugged, though she’d been blindfolded and bound before being forced onto a helicopter. Had she been moved because her captors worried Rocco had traced the telephone call?

  They hadn’t traveled too far. She estimated the flight time to be twenty minutes, but her worry increased when the blindfold was removed and she saw the elaborate compound she’d been brought to. A personal residence, she guessed, belonging to someone wealthy and powerful.

  The doctor did not accompany them, though she did help Maddy wash up and change before leaving. The embroidered robe she’d been given to wear was short, hitting midthigh. But at least it was clean. It had matching slippers that were insubstantial but beat bare feet.

  The black-uniformed armed guards escorted her into the palatial compound and herded her into a formal sitting area. She tried to take in details of her new surroundings. The room was decorated in a baroque style with heavy drapes over the windows. She was directed by gesture to sit on one of the brocade sofas. One of the guards stood at the door, while the other disappeared.

  Ever since her pregnancy had been outed, her captors had treated her fractionally better. Which worried her since she knew they weren’t doing so for humanitarian reasons. Her captors thought they’d have better luck procuring Dr. Rufin in exchange for a pregnant woman.

  And while it gave her hope to know Rocco knew that she’d been abducted—and Rocco would tell Travis—she worried what Travis would think once he heard she was pregnant. Would Travis realize he was the father? Or would he believe her captor’s claim that her unborn child was Rocco’s?

  She thought about her last phone conversation with Travis. He had been traveling and promised they’d have a deep conversation about taking their relationship “to the next level” as soon as he returned
. Would they ever have that conversation?

  As much as Maddy wanted to believe in happy endings, she was first and foremost a realist. Even if the Agency had Dr. Rufin as her abductors claimed, the CIA would never negotiate with the enemy. Maddy’s bottom line was painfully clear: No cavalry was coming to rescue her. She was on her own.

  A noise outside the door caught her attention. The guard snapped his fingers and motioned for her to stand. Maddy did so, tugging the robe down as best she could.

  Two guards entered the room, followed by a fifty-something man wearing a suit and tie. That the man wore multiple gold bracelets on both wrists and had a thick ring on every finger ruined the effect of the Dolce & Gabbana suit.

  It also tipped off the man’s identity. The drug lord Minh Tran supposedly wore a ring for each wife who bore him a son. The bracelets represented men he’d killed.

  Over the course of her job, Maddy had done research on Minh Tran. The photographs she’d seen of him were few and not recent. The passage of time had not been kind. His face was rounder, the skin loose below his chin, but his eyes were unmistakable. Fierce and cruel.

  Tran ignored her at first, listening as the guard spoke in a hushed tone. Then Tran nodded and began speaking to her in Thai.

  Maddy looked around, uncertain how to respond. When no one translated, she realized it was a test to see if she understood the language. He’d probably just threatened her with something horrible to get a reaction.

  She wished she could stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks, but she was too scared, too tired, too sick to muster the effort.

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. And I want to go home.”

  Tran barked out a command and a pretty Thai woman was escorted into the room. Maddy guessed the woman was close to her own age, twenty-five or twenty-six.

  “This is your nurse, Sunlee.” Minh Tran’s sudden switch to English surprised Maddy. “She speaks English, too. While you are here, you will do everything she instructs. My concern is with your child. Do you understand?”

  The implication that Maddy was not of concern was clear. She nodded, but Tran had already turned away to speak with another of the guards. Sunlee watched Tran with reverent adoration. Did the young woman hope to become another ring on Tran’s fingers?

  “Look at me, Madison.” Tran stepped closer.

  Maddy met his gaze, unable to prevent herself from flinching when his eyes dropped and openly ogled her breasts before slowly raking back up.

  “There are ways you can increase your value. If you please me, I can be reasonable,” Tran said.

  It was all she could do not to show revulsion over his sexual invitation. Tran lifted his hand and two guards moved in to flank her. Maddy stiffened. Had Tran picked up on her disgust? Would these men subdue her while Tran abused her?

  Bile rose in Maddy’s throat. She looked around frantically. If she vomited on Tran’s shoes what would he do?

  “These men will take you to your new quarters,” Tran said. “We will speak again soon.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Laredo, TX

  October 5, 5:30 A.M.

  Morning hard-ons were a normal part of Rocco’s life. His body’s equivalent of running a sound check. Testing. Testing. All systems go.

  He reveled in it.

  And if he woke up with a willing female, so much the better. A duet was a glorious way to start the day.

  But this morning’s sound check went awry, disrupting his system with a squelch of disturbing feedback. He knew immediately that his equipment worked fine; he had a hard-on for the record books. He also had a female in his bed. The same female who had dominated his dreams last night.

  Gena Armstrong. Former real-life love and all-time favorite fantasy. AKA The Heartbreaker. AKA Damsel in Distress.

  The problem wasn’t Gena, per se. It was her hands. She had somehow managed to loosen his jeans, shoved them down enough to allow her hot little fingers to tunnel in. Just like she had in one of his dreams.

  Right now she had a grip on his cock that was painful. Painful good. Did her subconscious remember that he liked a firm touch?

  She made a soft noise in her sleep. Testing. Testing. Then she twitched, clutching him even tighter.

  All systems go.

  Holy God! He gritted his teeth, afraid to move, to breathe, for fear of shooting off. This was a mistake. Except … how to fix?

  His Inner Idiot decided to do a visual check. Even bigger mistake. Gena was sleeping soundly, all snuggled up against his side, using his bare chest as a pillow. Her mouth was open and so close to his nipple he felt her warm breath.

  One of her legs was lying over his. Correction: it was practically entwined around his. And her contortions had hiked up the shirt she wore, confirming that she was naked beneath. Well, actually, his hand cupping her ass had confirmed that, but hey, his hand wasn’t the problem.

  Hers was.

  If he were a gentleman, he’d remove her hand from his cock while simultaneously tugging her shirt down. A gentleman probably wouldn’t be wishing that her shirt would creep up farther. Or that she’d twitch again.

  And then she did.

  Her grip tightened, her hand tugging upward along his shaft. Oh, yes. Oh, yes.

  No.

  It dawned on him that the question wasn’t whether he was a gentleman, but whether he was a masochist. It was torture lying still, not reaching to touch her in return.

  His heart thudded dully in his chest, reminding him of where the real pain was. He had never gotten over Gena. Had never gotten over the way they’d broken up. Had never had a chance to speak his mind. Or apologize. Or make amends.

  And her? Had she ever really cared? Did she ever dream about the good times they’d shared or had she let it go? The way he needed to let it go.

  The past was ancient history. Most of it anyway. The part that had resurfaced had nearly killed Gena. Which was why they were together again. Because Rocco had sworn to keep her safe.

  Period.

  She wiggled just then, releasing his cock and breaking the spell. She shifted her leg higher and immediately stiffened.

  Rocco knew she was awake. He debated playing possum, faking sleep to give her a chance to extricate herself. But damn if he wanted to, especially since she wasn’t scrambling away.

  Instead he lay there, watching as she lifted her head to look down at their legs. When she turned to look at him, she drew a sharp breath, seeing that he was awake.

  Rocco silently counted to three, ample time for her to make her move.

  She didn’t. So he made his.

  He lifted his hand to the back of her neck, then drew her close for a kiss. He purposely kept it soft and tentative, monitoring her response, ready to end it at the first sign of resistance.

  Gena mowed him down, as if she couldn’t get close enough. Her mouth opened, welcoming and eager.

  It was all Rocco needed. He lifted her onto his chest, shoving his jeans lower in the process. A lovely moan escaped as she took over the kiss, her hands on either side of his face, holding him still as she drew his tongue fully into her mouth.

  His hands snaked beneath her shirt, brushing it upward along her ribs, exposing her breasts briefly before cupping them. Gena gasped with pleasure, pressing fully into his hands, encouraging his play. He caught her nipples, tugged them lightly.

  She bucked, rubbing her crotch against him. He dropped his hands to her hips, encouraging her to spread her legs, wanting her to feel the extent of his arousal. Gena straddled him, scalding his flesh with hers. She rolled her hips, thrusting herself against his shaft.

  He echoed the motion, his cock growing harder and longer with each stroke. Gena deepened the kiss, sucking his tongue while dragging her nipples across his chest.

  Rocco knew she was as close to the edge as he. The thought of thrusting his cock up inside her and—

  The phone on the nightstand rang, startling both of them with its shrill noise. Gena pulled away, sh
attering the spell.

  “I’m … I’m sorry!” She rolled away from him and climbed out of the bed. “That’s my wake-up call.”

  “Gena—”

  “Please!” That she already regretted what had happened was obvious.

  Rocco grabbed the receiver and slammed it back down, silencing it.

  “Gena.”

  “Rocco.”

  They spoke in unison. He motioned for her to go first.

  “I’m … embarrassed. That was … stress. It shouldn’t have happened,” she said.

  A stress fuck. That took the wind out of his sails. “Well, it did happen. And we were both willing participants.”

  “I wasn’t implying otherwise.” She tugged nervously at the hem of her shirt. His shirt. That she was on the verge of tears deflated his anger.

  His gaze took in her bandaged wrist, reminding him that she was the injured party.

  Damn it, this wasn’t about what used to be. He was supposed to protect her.

  “I apologize,” he said. “You’re right. And I give you my word that it won’t happen again.”

  She opened her mouth, then simply nodded. “I’m … going to take a shower.”

  “Fine. I need to check for e-mail and phone messages before we leave.”

  As Gena gathered clean clothes, Rocco pretended to be engrossed in firing up his laptop. When she finally disappeared into the bathroom, he was left feeling like a tyrant.

  Rather than try to analyze why, Rocco got dressed and packed his bag.

  While waiting for his laptop to make a secure connection, he activated his cell phone. The phone beeped, the display showing two missed calls. One from Cat, one from Dante. Both left callback numbers.

  Rocco called Dante first. Both men were early risers.

  “I hoped you’d call,” Dante said.

  “What’s up? Are you and Max still in Tennessee?”

  “We’re back in D.C.,” Dante said. “I’ve got a couple updates for you. Cat tried to reach you last night. Your nephew left the safe house. Adele thinks he went to meet his girlfriend. We’re trying to trace them by cell phones, but in the meantime Adele won’t relocate without him.”