by Rachel Nixx
Zee stilled his face. He wouldn’t let her do this to him.
“And she...left you. You thought you’d be together forever, but she found another man, and you’ve never gotten over it. You’re in this line of work so you can punish her over and over again.”
Relief flooded him. She had no idea. “Nope. Wrong. Good try, but not even close.”
Anna’s eyes showed her disappointment, and she buttoned the dress faster. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go. But I’m going to call Jake about this.”
Not if he called Jake first. He had no idea how he’d possibly explain this—he’d never failed in an assignment, not ever. That’s why Jake paid him so much, damn it. Jake trusted him.
Shit.
“Also,” she said, as she stepped into her unbuckled shoes and wrapped her tights around her wrist. “I’m disappointed I didn’t get to feel that cock of yours.” That taunting laugh was still in her voice, and Zee’s blood heated. She went on, “I suppose that’s your main draw, after all. It’s a good one. I guess I’m left to wonder if you actually know how to use it.”
She was challenging him. Baiting him as he had her. She wanted him to lose his temper and change his mind. Damn, she was good. For a split second, he admired her chutzpah. He wanted nothing more than to bend her over, pull up that dress, push down her panties, and paddle the hell out of her ass. A simple spanking would take that look out of her eyes. He would need nothing more than his hand.
Or Jesus, would that make her look even more determined?
Zee drew his professionalism—what was left of it—around himself. “Talk to Corinne on your way out. I think she’s outside. She’ll set you up with someone else, and I’m sure Jake will give you a session on the house. Sorry it didn’t work out.”
Anna had lost that amused look. Finally. Now she looked like she was ready to punch him. Good. Better mad than laughing at him.
“It was hard for me to come here today,” she said.
Zee nodded. “I’m sure it was. I can understand the difficulty.”
“Can you?”
Her face...Jesus. Those green eyes, brighter now with that anger. He was going to kill Jake for setting him up with her. “I understand what it’s like to do something difficult.” Did he really? If he did, wouldn’t he have just gone through with the assignment? She’d signed the contract, after all. She’d been going to take whatever he dished out. That was the whole game. It was his job.
She didn’t say another word, just swept by him, that red hair following her like flames of anger. The back door slammed, a hollow, metallic sound that filled him with something darker than disappointment.
Chapter Two
Her father.
How dare he guess like that? And to nail it in one, that asshole. Of course, Zee had talent. He had experience. The one thing he knew must be women, right? If that was all he knew, then of course he could get lucky with the guessing.
It was hours later, and Anna was still fuming. In her apartment, three stories up, Anna watched the storm lash the building across the street. Lightning lit the puddles as it flashed, and thunder rolled across the black sky. She was protected from the rain by the thick walls and double-paned glass, but even so, she felt the storm like it was raging inside with her.
It wasn’t even like her father had done anything so very wrong. He hadn’t sexually abused her or her mother, and he’d never raised a hand to either of them. He’d kept a steady job and remained even-keeled even when Anna’s mother had been flipping out about something or another, as she usually was.
It’s just that he hadn’t stayed. When Anna was ten, he’d announced to her and her mother that he’d fallen in love with someone else, and that they were having a baby together. Anna’s mother had freaked, naturally, and kicked him out.
Anna just hadn’t expected him to stay gone. He’d chosen that unborn brother over her, again and again, and she’d never gotten over it.
Oldest story in the book, right? One kid was the chosen one, the other one wasn’t. It was a cliché, and that fact made her furious, even now. How could one person have so much influence over another? It was stupid. She should be stronger. Better with pain. And she couldn’t help her feelings, even though God knew she’d tried.
It was a night for a drink. She’d called a couple of friends but no one had wanted to go out in the storm, and she didn’t blame them. Anna didn’t usually drink alone, but her nerves said a martini would ease the pain of the day.
Zee, a man paid to fulfill her fantasy, had kicked her out. He’d rejected her.
Well, that had been her fantasy all right. Not a good one, but it was the one she was always worried about, after all. So he’d gotten that correct, too.
She poured the gin and the tiniest splash of vermouth into a tumbler. She added an ice cube—lazy, she knew, but she couldn’t be bothered to dig out her shaker that only saw use at her annual Christmas cocktail party—and stood near the window again.
The best part of her apartment was the floor to ceiling windows. On the edge of the Village, she had a partial view of the West Side Highway and (if she stood on tiptoes) even a glimpse of the water. Even though it was full dark now, she didn’t draw the huge curtains. She rarely did. She loved walking through the streets at this time of year, when the light left the sky so early, looking into everyone else’s homes. At dinner time, she could peek at dining tables as kids slung coats on the backs of their chairs and stored game devices in their laps to eat. In the darkened mornings, she watched women drinking coffee as they flipped through the paper. Anna admired the art (or lack thereof) on their walls. In one apartment a few blocks away, she loved the orange walls so much she’d thought of stopping to knock, to ask the name of the paint.
So leaving her own window shade open was a kind of payback for the enjoyment she got from peeking into other people’s lives.
A gust heaved a wall of water at the glass, and she had to get close to the window to see out into the night, past her own reflection. Cabs patrolled below, gleaming yellow, cutting through the reflective streets. A man stood on the opposite side, under her favorite elm tree. He was large, taller than the men that hurried down the sidewalks behind him. He was almost as big as Zee, actually.
Shit.
It was Zee.
What the hell was he doing out there in the rain? Looking up at her apartment wasn’t an accident. He’d tracked her here. Easy, he didn’t track you—you gave the company your address.
His arms were folded, and he didn’t hold an umbrella. He wasn’t even wearing a rain coat. The rain sluiced over his leather motorcycle jacket, his jeans gone black with wet. His dark hair dripped into his eyes. The eyes that didn’t break from hers, that didn’t make any apology whatsoever for being caught.
Anna knew she should step backward toward the darkened kitchen. She should at least hit the living room light and take herself out of his view. Whatever the hell he thought he was playing at wasn’t funny. Her hand trembled as she took a long sip of her gin. Instead of stepping away or turning out the light, though, she didn’t move.
She set the glass on the table next to her.
There were only a few ways to play this.
She could pretend she’d never seen him and turn out the lights and go to bed. But really, Anna wasn’t tired. Not yet. Not even close.
She could go outside and speak to him, find out what the hell he was doing. But it was raining harder now. It looked cold. It was nice and dry inside.
There was, of course, a third way to go.
She could give him a show. Prove to him that she was up for this.
Ridiculous. Anna couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
Why, then, did she reach for the hem of her dress? Instead of taking the time to unbutton it for the second time today, she simply lifted it up and off.
She stood shaking in her window, wearing just the bra and panties he’d already seen once.
Her street was narrow, barely enough room for one
car to pass between the parked cars. Even though Zee stood on the other side of the street, she was close enough to him to see his eyes narrow. Something that ran between them, through the glass, through the heavy raindrops, something that ran from her fingertips to his mouth which twitched as if she’d touched him.
Jesus Christ, what Anna wanted most in the whole world was to press her lips against that scar at the corner of his mouth. She didn’t care about the story that went with it. She just wanted to touch him. It was a stupid desire, one she didn’t understand. This was ridiculous, all of it.
She should know better. She should turn off the lights and go to bed.
Instead, Anna touched herself.
She slipped her right hand into the top of her panties. Slowly, so slowly, she dipped one finger into the wetness she’d had between her legs since she’d left Brooklyn. With her other hand, she pulled down the lace of her bra, exposing her nipple to the air. She tested it with her fingers, teasing herself until her nipple was hard, pointing straight at him.
Zee’s mouth straightened, as if he were trying hard to prevent himself from speaking. That was fine. He could speak. He could say whatever the hell he wanted, and it wouldn’t matter. Anna couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t tell her to stop.
She slipped her panties down now, all the way off. Stepping out of them, she pulled the lace on the other cup of her bra down so that now she was naked except for the bra, which displayed, rather than hid, her breasts.
Anyone could see her. Her neighbors across the street, the cab driver who paused and honked for his fare to come out, the pedestrians that hurried down the darkened sidewalks. Anyone could look up and see what Zee was staring at.
But so far, he was the only one who noticed. He was the only one who looked as if what she was doing to him physically hurt. And maybe, with that magnificent cock of his stuffed into cold rain-soaked jeans, maybe he did hurt.
Good.
Anna lifted the first two fingers of her right hand to her mouth. Slowly, she licked them, taking her time as she slid them in and out, moving her tongue over her fingertips. Then she trailed them down her body to where they wanted to be—at her cunt. She slipped her first finger inside herself and gasped, astonished at how wet and swollen she already was. Then the other finger slowly made its way inside. Using her left hand, she touched her clit, gently at first, and then gaining speed and rhythm.
Damn. This was something she did late at night, in the dark, in her own bed. It was something she did when whatever boyfriend she was with failed to get her off, something she did so quietly that they never woke up, never knew that they’d left anything lacking.
It wasn’t something she did while standing in her picture window.
Anna’s fingers moved faster now, her eyes never leaving his. She barely blinked, although he did. The rain was sluicing down again, and it acted like a conduit between them, as if the electricity from the lightning in the skies were traveling between them. Rain rolled from his hair and he should have been shivering, but she could tell by the look on his face he was burning up just like she was.
A few more seconds, that was it, that was all it was going to take...she was so close—so close...
Slowly, deliberately, Zee shook his head.
Anna gasped. He couldn’t really make her stop, could he? Her fingers flicked her clit harder, her other hand pumping in and out of her pussy.
Once more, he shook his head.
She could ignore him. Anna knew she was only five or ten seconds away from coming. She could pretend she didn’t know what he meant and keep going, which, God, she needed to do.
Or she could prove herself to him.
She took her fingers away from her clit, out of her pussy, and stood straighter. She placed her hands on the glass in front of her, and bent slightly at the waist, an echo of how he’d placed her earlier in the day. Her legs were shaking with the exertion of not coming. All it would take was a single touch. Hell, a breath would get her off right now.
What now? Would he leave, stalking away into the dark, rainy night?
Instead, he waited for a passing cab, and then came forward, through the street. His eyes questioned her.
“Three,” she mouthed, holding up three fingers. “One, five.”
The buzz, when it came, almost jolted her out of her skin, even though she was expecting it. She hit the Open button for the downstairs door. Most people waited for the elevator, which would take at least two minutes to get him up the three short flights. But if he—
A loud knock. Anna grinned. He must have run up the stairs at top speed. Good. She opened the door, still wearing only her bra, the lace of the cups still under her breasts.
He was even bigger than she remembered. His bulk filled the doorway, and she had a moment of trepidation. She’d just opened her door, naked, to a man who could hurt her. A man she’d paid to hurt her. Hell, Anna was scared of everything, especially of pain. That was her thing and she knew it. Why, then, wasn’t she truly scared now?
“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” His voice was gravel in the rain. Water dripped from the shock of black hair that fell over his right eye.
Anna found her voice didn’t work. That was fine, she didn’t need it anyway.
He was through the door then, moving fast. His breath came quickly, probably from racing up the stairs. Hers came almost as rapidly.
Anna backed up until she couldn’t go any farther—her backside hit the edge of the couch.
He took her face in both hands, and his mouth was on hers before she could draw another breath. Zee kissed her. It was the last thing she’d expected, and the kiss, as it blazed through her, made her bones liquid and her blood hot. His mouth was rough, demanding. She gave herself to him, meeting his tongue and matching his heat with her own. He bit the corner of her lip, and she nipped the side of his neck.
He had the most wonderful stubble all over his jaw, sharp and prickly. Anna couldn’t get enough of it. It was like him—uncomfortable and sexy as hell. He traced hard kisses down her throat, and she knew she’d have beard-burn there tomorrow. She reveled in the knowledge, pushing herself against him even harder.
“You’re killing me.”
Was it his accent that made his voice so unbearably sexy? Or was it his low rumbled voice that melted her? No matter what, she wanted more, more of him speaking in her ear. Hell, she wanted more of everything, and she didn’t know how to ask. She kissed him harder, trying to fit all her need into the motion so that he’d know.
And maybe she told him the right way, because, with a bitten-off curse, he tore his mouth from hers and spun her, hands at her waist. Using one hand, he bent her over the back of the couch. With the other hand, he lifted her hips. He left her there for a moment, a few delicious seconds. Anna heard the noise of a condom being unwrapped, and then she felt the head of his shaft at her opening. If she could have wriggled backward onto him, she would have, but a heavy hand in the center of her back kept her in place.
“Wait,” he said. The tip of him, blunt and hot, pushed against her slickness. He used his cock to touch her clit, and she buried the scream into the cushion. She couldn’t wait, she didn’t want to wait, please, please...
With one fluid stroke, Zee filled her. He didn’t go slowly. He didn’t take his time. He was in her in the amount of time it took for her to gasp a breath. Her cunt had never been so full. He was enormous. Anna remembered what he’d looked earlier, when she’d seen him rubbing his cock, and the knowledge that it was fully inside her, stretching her, was almost too much for her to bear.
So full. She’d never been this full. Every time he sunk himself into her, she lost her breath, as if he were pushing into her lungs.
“Not yet,” he said, both of his hands now on her ass, squeezing. “Don’t come.”
“I can’t—”
“You will,” he gasped. “Wait.”
With all her strength, she bucked her hips so that she couldn’t rub her clit the way
she had been on the leather of the couch. With every thrust, he pushed her down again, and then she pushed back up. Impossible. It was impossible. She had to come. She felt herself begin to clench around his cock, and he thrust harder, faster, burying himself even deeper.
He bent forward, using both hands to pull her hips against him. As he fucked her he reached around and finally, finally fingered her clit. “Now,” he growled in her ear. “Come for me.” It was an order, not a suggestion.
She exploded. With a scream, she let the orgasm roll over her. It beat at her, clawed her, shook her, and when she thought it was almost over, he pushed inside her again with a guttural groan, and she came harder. She felt his cock spasm and jerk; she swore she could feel every millimeter of it inside her. It was hers, hers, hers to ride, to use, to come around.
Zee collapsed on top of her, his rough, stubbled cheek against her back.
“Fuck,” she said after a long moment. “Fuckin’ fuck.” She shimmied and rolled under him, awkwardly draped over the couch. She wanted to see his face.
And damned if he wasn’t wearing the biggest crazy smile. It changed him, lit him up from the inside.
Zee laughed, a low rumble that echoed the thunder that had just rolled outside. “Yeah. What you said.”
What the hell was he doing here? Zee came back to reason while his cock was still softening inside her. Jake was going to have his head on a fucking stick. There were rules about this sort of thing. You didn’t initiate contact with a target outside the sessions. Ever. He could be fired. Screw that, he would be fired if Jake found out. No, make that when Jake found out.
He’d fucked Jake’s personal friend off-hours, without the agency knowing where he was. It would have been fine: a play-date at her house. If he’d logged it, that was. But he hadn’t. No one knew he was here.
Shit. He’d screwed up. Big time.
And the truth was, he’d do it all over again. The feeling of Anna breathing underneath him, all soft skin and animal warmth, that scent of sex and what else...was it bubble bath or something? Something clean and fresh and vaguely candy-like. So sweet. Zee wished to hell he could stay here forever.
