A Matter of Time 07 - Parting Shot (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  “Hey.”

  I put the magazine down to survey him in his crisp blue whipcord suit and to admire the contrast of the white dress shirt, open at the collar, and his deep gold skin. The man just did not know how to go slumming.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m reading,” I said instead of meeting his eyes. “Go back to what you were doing.”

  Seconds later the magazine was gently taken away and Aaron was on his knees in front of me, his hands on my thighs, holding tight.

  “We’re not alone,” I informed him.

  “No one would dare come in without buzzing to check if they could. That’s understood,” he said hoarsely, fingers sliding over my belt buckle.

  I took hold of his restless hands and stilled them.

  He was confused. “Duncan?”

  “We’re gonna land soon.”

  “But I just told you that—”

  “Yeah, but I don’t feel like having everyone know what we’re doing in here. Do you get that?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I get it, but who cares?”

  “Just because you haven’t in the past, doesn’t mean I don’t.”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “You’ve had a lot of men on this plane.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Like you’ve been celibate.”

  “Get up,” I ordered softly.

  He opened his mouth to say something.

  “Please,” I cut him off. “I’m not comfortable with having everyone know we’re fucking on the plane. I’d rather skip that scene.”

  His eyes searched my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I said, because it was hard to articulate exactly how I was feeling, and if I couldn’t figure it out, how was I supposed to explain it to him? “I know I need to get used to the being on display like all the others, but—”

  “For starters,” he snapped, his voice rising, “the others were hidden; I was very careful that no one ever saw them. Even Jory and I were never photographed together or—”

  “That’s not the—”

  “And what I said was that you have to get used to people wanting to see you,” he clarified, drawing out the word, sitting back on his heels, no longer touching me. “But no one gets to know private things between us.”

  “Good.” I tried to smile but couldn’t. “Then let’s not screw around, all right? And you don’t have to entertain me or talk to me. I’m fine. I know you have stuff to do. No worries.”

  He squinted. “So I’m being dismissed?”

  “Aaron, for crissakes.” My anger flared. “I can see you trying to get a crapload of shit done before you’re forced into spending a weekend at a place where you’re completely cut off from the outside world. You have responsibilities. You have a business to run, and I know you’ve got everything covered, but you’re basically doing this for me and the feds.”

  “Duncan—”

  “It’s great that you’re performing your civic duty,” I stopped him. “And I appreciate it, but I know you have things to handle, so g’head.”

  It seemed from the look on his face he wanted to say something else, but instead he got up and went back to where he’d been. I peered out the window and tried to figure out why I was annoyed with him. Wanting to fool around with me was a good thing, so why didn’t it feel that way?

  In Phoenix another limousine waited for us, and once we landed, I got on the phone, which was better because it gave me something to do to occupy my time.

  “God, this is like déjà vu,” I said to myself.

  “How so?”

  “I was just here,” I made known.

  “Here in Phoenix?”

  “Yeah. I was on vacation, and then I helped Sam out.”

  “Sam who?”

  I turned to him. “How many Sams do we have in common?”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. You all talked about that when we had dinner with them the night we met. You helped Sam watch over Jory. I had no idea that was here in Arizona.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Funny how small the world is sometimes, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” I agreed.

  “Did you see Sedona when you were here last?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Well, at least that will be new.”

  And for no good reason, I kissed his cheek. His hand covered where my lips had been when I leaned back. “What?”

  “You’re a very demonstrative man, Detective.”

  “Not really. You bring it out in me.”

  His eyes clouded fast.

  “Oh, wrong thing to say?”

  “No.” His voice dropped low. “Best, actually.”

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  The drive was ugly, a lot of brown until we were outside of Sedona. Red Rock Country was gorgeous, and I rolled down the window to smell the air and feel it on my face.

  “Should we talk about anything?”

  It had been a long silent car ride.

  “I don’t think so,” I answered the stunning scenery instead of him. “We just have to get him to commit to one of us that we’re in, and then we set a time and place for the deal, outside his pleasure palace here, and we’ve got him.”

  “Right, but we’re not going to get separated, are we?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, the fact of the matter is that he knows damn well he can’t do anything to you. If he’s gonna shoot someone in the head, three guesses who it will be.”

  No response, so I figured what I said made sense to him.

  “Duncan.”

  I ignored him, which was a dick move.

  “Duncan,” he said, sharper the second time.

  Twisting in my seat, I realized he was furious. “What’s with you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Could it be that you’re so fucking nonchalant about your life! About your safety! You think that’s funny?” His voice rose.

  “It’s the job,” I explained. “This is what undercover is. I’ve done this many times. Last time out, I got the shit beat out of me, I got shot—it happens. I mean, we’re not actually on vacation, right? There’s the potential for this to go extremely bad. Clay Wells is not connected to a drug cartel like my last job. He’s basically a trust-fund rich boy playing at midlevel narcotics smuggler, but he had Evan Polley murdered—he’s not benign.”

  “No, I get that.”

  “Then wrap your head around this and remember that, come Monday, if I’m with you or not, you leave. You drive out of the resort. If I’m not there, and Clay gives you an excuse, whatever that is, however thin, however crazy, you leave. That’s the deal. That’s what Special Agent Summers is banking on. You make her send a team in to extract you, the whole operation is compromised,” I stressed to him. “You know all this; you were briefed same time I was.”

  He nodded like he was thinking.

  “So we should—”

  “Why are you so angry with me?” he let slip, and the sound, hurt and splintered, was startling. “What did I do?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t deflect,” he demanded, and I could see he was shaking. “Just tell me what’s wrong!”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You’re lying.”

  I was silent and glanced away from him.

  “Duncan.”

  “You gotta let me figure this out in my head,” I finally said. “Because I’m having trouble.”

  “Trouble with what?”

  I raked my fingers through my hair, tugging before letting my head loll sideways so I could see him.

  “Duncan?”

  “It’s like a circus.”

  “What?”

  “Being with you,” I huffed out. “It’s like joining the circus, and I don’t know if I wanna be a freak show for people to look at.”

  He went very quiet; I could actually see the recoil. “My life is not some frightening carnival, and how dare you compare it to one.”


  “Do you even know the difference between a circus and a carnival? If you’re gonna get pissed, at least know what you’re pissed about.”

  “Yes, Duncan,” he said implacably, “I do.”

  And the offense he took was normal and that sort of calmed my momentary terror over… not what we were about to do—not about the op—but us.

  “How dare you—”

  “Wait.” I chuckled, which I realized instantly was not a good reaction. I hadn’t meant to be patronizing; it was completely unintentional. The whole conversation was just stupid, but when I saw how big his eyes got, I knew I was in for one hell of a blistering tirade.

  He slid his laptop sideways onto the seat and slammed his hand down on the free-standing console. Miguel’s voice came from the front of the car.

  “Raise the privacy partition and do not stop this car until you’re instructed.” He said as he pulled off his suit jacket and flung it back into his vacated chair.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Aaron,” I coaxed faintly.

  “No,” he roared, and in the small space, it was really loud. “Do not handle me!”

  He hit another button on the console near him, and my window whooshed shut so fast, I was lucky my hand wasn’t outside.

  “We’re having a mis—”

  “Stop.” His voice bottomed out as he was suddenly there, pressed tight, pulling, tugging, wanting my clothes off.

  The cotton dress shirt surrendered first, the buttons torn free and flying everywhere as it was roughly opened and then peeled free of first one arm and then the other. The white undershirt was yanked over my head without concern, before he divested himself of his own clothes as quickly as possible.

  I realized that Aaron Sutter did a whole hell of a lot of his communication through sex, and I got it because I normally did as well. The thing was, though, with him, I wanted more.

  “You’re going to run. I can feel it.”

  That was my fault; I was scaring him for no good reason.

  Most people could count on two things, some more and others less: we each had a personal life and a professional one. At any given time, at least one had to be working right for us to truly function in society. So maybe the job was shit, but your home life was solid. Or domestic bliss was not in the cards, but your career was moving along at a healthy clip. If it was either/or, you could get by. But unfortunately, in a span of minutes, I had taken both from Aaron Sutter. He was already missing work, and the pride that came with it, the identity it gave him, and then I had made sure he knew we weren’t solid either. My timing was fantastic.

  “Take off your pants!” It was desperate and beseeching at the same time.

  I had created doubt and fear. It was all on me. I was so stupid sometimes.

  Moving fast, I tackled him, pile driving him down under me onto the floor of the car, my hand behind his head so he wouldn’t bump it.

  “What are you—”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized, bending to press my forehead to his, closing my eyes at the same time.

  He was very close to hyperventilating.

  I inhaled and exhaled slowly, my hand moving between us, over his heart, just there, pressing gently, letting him feel the weight as I breathed.

  He trembled violently, almost jerking under me as if an electric current had passed through his spine.

  “Forgive me,” I said, my voice hoarse and low, as I lifted my head and stared down into his eyes.

  His hands were suddenly in my hair, buried there, holding on.

  “I know why you want us to have sex.”

  He said nothing, but his eyes were riveted on mine.

  “You make me stupid with wanting you,” I confessed.

  He gently massaged the back of my neck. “When we’re together, you agree with me. You’re not scared, and you commit to everything and anything I want.”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?” I asked dryly.

  He laughed lightly and lifted his leg to rub his thigh over my hip. “You really like fucking me.”

  I settled over him, and he wrapped both legs around my hips, as I burrowed my face into the side of his neck. “I do like it—love it actually—but that ain’t all.”

  “No?”

  I lifted my head so I could see his face. “Not hardly.”

  My words soothed him, and I watched the softness return to his eyes.

  “Aaron—”

  “Stop. Just listen to me,” he said gruffly. “We’re going into that resort together, and we’re coming out together. The whole time we’re there, you stay right by me.”

  “You know that might not be possible,” I began gently.

  “No,” he whispered against my temple. “I know it’s not a vacation. If it was, I’d have you sequestered away on some private beach.”

  I made a rumbling noise into the hollow of his throat, and he arched up off the floor, rubbing against me, moaning softly as he clutched at my back.

  “You like it when I do that,” I said, pleased because these were little things I could build on, private things between us.

  “It drives me crazy,” he confessed before he caught my gaze. “But seriously, you’re going to love being on the yacht with me, but there’s always, always going to be other people. Miguel is a constant because he’s not just my driver, right? He keeps me safe. But there are housekeepers, butlers, cooks—these people are part of my life, and we’ve been together a long time. I have surrounded myself with an amazing group, and you’ll find that out. But seeing me with you, that’s part of the gig. It’s part of having ironclad confidentiality agreements, and you need to get comfortable with that part of your life.”

  Yes, I did.

  “The people who work for me are not just anybody.”

  “I get it,” I insisted, shifting over him, pressing my hard groin to his.

  “Are you hearing it? Are you listening? They’re my staff, I trust them, and they trust me. Are you getting it?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, bending his knees and lifting slightly so my cock slid along his crease. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then enough of this bullshit,” he rasped, grinding against me. “Enough of you pulling away from me! I don’t ever want you to pull away from me!” He sounded scared and pissed and frustrated all together.

  And I felt like such an asshole. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

  “I do mean it,” I said huskily.

  “Then no more of you even thinking about being out of this,” he barked, toeing off his black penny loafers.

  And he was right because that’s where my brain had gone.

  He put a hand on my chest and pushed back. “Help me.”

  Once he had his belt unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned, I grabbed the cuffs and shucked them down and off his long, muscular legs. I smiled when I saw what was underneath. “A thong?”

  “I like them. They’re not constrictive,” he teased.

  “No, they’re not,” I agreed, peeling down the black microfiber underwear. When I bent to lick the pearly drop of precome from the flared head of his cock, he choked out my name.

  My lips closed around the crown, and he whimpered low and sweet before I dipped my head and began slowly sucking him down my throat, inch by inch.

  “In my bag,” he directed, even as he wriggled beneath me, one hand fisted in my thick hair. “There’s lube. It’s there, right there.”

  I just wanted to suck him dry.

  “Duncan.” He tugged urgently, trying to get me off him.

  Lifting my head, letting his hot, wet cock slip from my lips, I heard his painful groan. “Get the bag!”

  Turning, I saw what he wanted, grabbed the strap, and yanked it from where it was on the floor over to him.

  He tossed open the flap and shoved a small bottle at me.

  “You just carry that around?”

  His eyes m
et mine. “Never know when you’ll decide you actually want me.”

  “That’s crap.”

  “Prove it,” he flared, putting his feet on my thighs as I sat back above him. “Because all I’ve heard so far today is ‘no’.”

  His bright eyes were locked on me, but they were heavy-lidded with need. Curling over him, I took brutal possession of his plump, shapely lips, grinding my mouth down over his, invading and tasting, sucking on his tongue.

  He squirmed under me as he got my belt undone, trouser stays open, and briefs shoved down enough to let my cock bob free.

  “Before we go into the resort,” he said, panting, “I need you.”

  I slicked myself fast and pressed against his entrance as I lifted my eyes back to his.

  “Please,” he begged.

  Slowly, I sank down into the welcoming heat of his body.

  “You have to belong to me.”

  I lifted his legs to my shoulders and we moved together with the fluidity of years between us instead of merely days. Plunging deep and hard, I felt his muscles clenching around me. I pulled out, only to slam back inside.

  “Don’t stop!” he gasped, and I could hear unshed tears in his voice.

  “You want promises, but you’re scared to ask for them.” It was a statement.

  “Yes,” he cried, and I knew it hurt to answer because it was true.

  “Because everybody leaves you,” I uttered his fear.

  “Yes.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Duncan… you have to want me, need me, have me… you have to stay…,” he whined, his voice cracking as I pounded into him, driving to his core. “Please.”

  He was so tight and hot, and the way his hands clawed at me to keep me close, keep me buried inside him, all that was sexy. But his eyes were the true revelation. Whatever pride had been there was gone. I could see clearly what I was being offered, and his beautiful body was only part of it.

  “Stay with me.”

  I had no intention of going anywhere.

  “Promise me.”

  I shoved in, slid partway out, over and over, like I owned him, and he writhed beneath me, wanting more of my swollen cock and the savage pounding.

  “I want the words.”

  I was so close to giving up and giving in.

  “Baby.”

  “I promise,” I said, and we both knew what I meant.