Spy Games: Lethal Limits

by Mia Downing

  The spy inside him struggled to reach for his gun, his sixth sense thinking he was in danger, because why would his cock be hard and wet if he was asleep? But the man in him didn’t give two shits if he died. If he was on his way out, he was going happy, especially since his balls tightened on a growing orgasm the size of Texas.

  He woke enough to open one eye. Tia was curled at his hip, her mouth on his cock, her hand on the shaft, stroking him. Jesus, so beautiful. He opened the other eye and sank his hands in her hair, his breathing suddenly twice as ragged. Oh, yeah, he would die very happy.

  “Good morning,” she said huskily after releasing his cock from her sweet mouth, not looking up at him. She returned to her task at hand, literally, and stroked him vigorously. “I thought I’d surprise you with a wedding gift of my own.”

  Jake frowned. She wasn’t supposed to be happy, was she? He didn’t think so, but the pleasure kept him from remembering, and suddenly her mouth returned to work, sucking him harder, deeper, her tongue swirling around the head when she paused on an upstroke.

  “Why don’t you come ride me? I still owe you a ride,” he offered, tugging at her hair, though he wanted her to just keep sucking. Too damned good, her mouth too damned hot.

  She released him. “I’m good.”

  Her tongue ran down his shaft, and she sucked at his sac, her tongue running over first one tight ball, then the other. He drew in a very deep breath, rammed his heels into the mattress and his ass clenched. Think, think of something other than her wicked mouth. The crib. Babies had a way of staving off an orgasm.

  He wanted to come inside a different damp heat. “You sure? I’m behind on your wedding gift.”

  “Shh. Just enjoy my gift.”

  And then she slipped a lubed finger into his ass. He arched off the bed, his cock so deep in her throat. God, the sensation. It was tight, it burned, and was so fucking good that when she sucked him hard and fast, his orgasm took him by surprise.

  He pumped into her mouth a few times before he shot into the back of her throat, groaning her name, a load so massive that a part of him not drowning in pleasure worried she’d be unable to swallow. But swallow she did, lapping him clean, caressing his balls.

  When she was done, he dragged her up his boneless body to kiss her.

  “Best gift ever,” he whispered and slanted his lips across hers, the taste of his essence on her mouth and tongue almost an aphrodisiac. If he hadn’t come like a madman, he’d be hard again. But he had and, instead, he floated like a jellyfish bobbing on the waves of the best high. “Give me a bit, and I’ll take care of you,” he promised as he drew her close into his boneless arms.

  She dropped a kiss to his lips and slipped away. “If I come, I won’t want to run.”

  He got that. There was no way he was walking anywhere, never mind running. He opened one eye again to see her dressing, tugging on shorts and underwear—he wanted to veto that, but whatever. She could take them off when she got back. Shorts up the ass when you ran had to be uncomfortable. Her bra went on next, and she tossed his shirt onto the rocking chair.

  “I’m sorry I got back so late.”

  She smiled that serene smile of hers as she put on deodorant. “It’s okay. I kept busy. And I was very tired. We had quite the day yesterday.”

  Yes, they had. He floated a little lower, the high lessening as he listened to how she spoke instead of what she said. “You want to ride Jessa later?”

  She picked up her running shoes and smiled as she sat in the rocking chair. “Whatever you wish.”

  He frowned, the fog in his brain almost clear enough to remember why that phrase pissed the hell out of him. “I want to give you five orgasms today. I’m way behind.”

  She finished with her shoes, rose, and kissed his lips softly. “Whatever you wish.”

  And then she was gone, leaving behind a haze of floral musk for him to feel puzzled in.

  With a jolt, he saw the image of her wrapped in his T-shirt, the picture in her hand. He jumped up but she flashed by the window, already halfway down the driveway, her loose curls bouncing down her back in a high ponytail. Running.

  That’s what his gift had been about. Suck him off and then run, so she didn’t have to be put in a position to give him anything. Yeah, the blowjob was a gift, and he had received the best orgasm, but she remained safe, no power exchanged, no feelings hurt. Nothing risked. She had no right to be pissed at him. He’d never lied about Kate, and he needed to talk to her about what she’d found. But she was gone.

  It was as if they’d never said vows in the first place.

  Jake rose, feeling cold, maybe a little used. He was too much guy to give into that feeling, though. He shrugged on running clothes and went to the basement to pound out his own mileage on the treadmill. Halfway in, he decided to continue with his vow from the night before. He’d make her surrender, but she wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t be able to hide. And he’d make her give him everything before she erupted into a ball of orgasmic flames in his hands.

  He grinned and ran harder. He had a lot to do before the sun set.

  ****

  Saturday evening after dinner, they sat in the kitchen, Jake at the head of the table with a deck of cards. Tia gave him a wary look, because a spy with cards was never a good sign. Especially one who lied, charmed, and oozed sex appeal like Jake did.

  Tia had spent the day avoiding him without looking like she was doing so. He greeted her in the kitchen with a hot kiss when she returned from her run, whispering of orgasms. She had begged off, her mind wanting a shower while the rest of her wanted nothing more than to lose herself in his arms. Later, he’d cornered her in the barn with another hot kiss as she brushed Jessa, and she’d swatted him, telling him his horse needed exercise, not her.

  He’d backed her against the counter after lunch and whispered that his tree was lonely, and wanted entertainment like they’d given it before. She showed him the beads she was stringing, telling him they wouldn’t enjoy the trip outside.

  Finally, Jake had gone outside alone, only because she promised to join him there when she was done stringing. But she had no intention of showing up, even though that’s all she wanted. She wanted Jake, pure and simple. But she’d be strong and hold out as long as possible. The less contact she had with him, the safer her heart.

  Eventually, she’d have to put out again. Blowing him this morning had been a great idea, one she enjoyed as much as he did, which hurt a little. She stuffed that pain away, though, making a little cell in the corner of the maze, on the opposite side of her heart. The cell was made of those pictures of Kate, the garter a door pull. Pain would be happy there until she had the time to grieve Jake’s loss properly on Monday.

  Now, Tia sat at the table, staring at that deck of cards, and realized the corner she’d been backed into would have strip something—like poker—as entertainment, and there was absolutely no way out without facing him about what she’d found in his bedroom. It was the same old fight, one that would end with her saying whatever you wish and she’d somehow end up deeper in wedding something. She didn’t want to face that, not now.

  Strip something with someone as hot as Jake would not be easy on her libido. Strip something meant she’d end up in bed or against a counter, on the couch, anywhere, because the ache in her core would demand he satisfy her. She was tough, she reminded herself. She could handle anything he had to give, as long as he played somewhat fair.

  Jake shuffled the cards and she frowned. Jake probably wouldn’t play fair, but he would have no clue that she’d barricaded the maze around her heart with some newfound bravery and steel resolve. She had one more day to suffer, and then she’d be safe.

  Jake still shuffled, cocking his head at her, the sexual tension between them definitely raw, definitely thick, just the way he liked his prime rib. She watched those cards as he set the deck down before her and tapped the top one.

  “Look at the top card. Don’t tell me what it is, but I want you to r
emember that for later.”

  “Okay.” Let the mind games begin. Tia looked—queen of hearts. How lovely. She frowned. “Can I have a different one?”

  “No.” Jake shuffled the deck with easy expertise, those long fingers of his quick, just as they’d been when giving her pleasure. He leaned back in his chair, ready to deal. “Twenty-one or poker?”

  “I would have thought you’d want to play strip whatever.”

  “The stripping part is a given.” He gave her a very naughty grin. “Choose.”

  Though she could bluff with the best of them, a battle of cons and lies was not what she wanted to play with him. “Twenty-one.”

  He dealt her cards, and she looked at the one down—a four—and compared it to the one up—another four. “Hit me.”

  He tossed her another as he assessed her from his side of the table, about as easy to read as Chase at this point. “If you go over twenty-one, you owe me something good.”

  She gave him a dirty look. Nice try, cowboy. “If I go over, I lose a piece of clothing. I’m not wearing much to begin with.”

  “House rules.”

  Such a jerk. “Your house did not make that rule. I know for a fact the house wouldn’t do that.”

  “No?”

  “The house is cruel, but not vindictive. Did you and Chase play twenty-one when he came home with you? What about you and your brothers?”

  He narrowed his gaze and set his jaw in his stubborn way. “I’m not backing down.”

  Definitely a jerk, but the hint of steel in his voice called to her lust. She loved that stern voice. “Fine. If you go over, you owe me something as well.”

  “Fine.”

  She peeked at her card—another four. She had a better chance of getting closer to twenty-one than she did of getting a ten. “Hit me.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Shut up and give me a card.”

  He shrugged and tossed her a card. She peeked again. A ten. Fuck.

  “Well, well, look at this. I have…” He flipped the cards and gave her that smug, sexy smile of his. “Twenty-one.”

  Of course, he did, because he was a smug bastard. “I hate you.”

  “You went over, didn’t you? I warned you.” He shook his head and tsk-tsked. His gaze went from the cards on the table to her lips and then her breasts. Everything in that area flushed beet-red, her nipples puckering in invitation. “You have to kiss me and ditch the shirt.”

  She kicked off her shoes in his direction, smirking as one collided with his leg. He ignored her, and she glared. “I’ll ditch what I want, and I’m not paying for going over. Chase didn’t have to.”

  “Oh, he paid,” Jake drawled as he shuffled again.

  “How?” She didn’t believe him, not one bit. So full of shit, this man was. He needed to muck his brain out.

  “Shots. Of tequila.”

  “I thought the house didn’t do liquor?”

  He shuffled, making a fancy bridge with the cards. “The house isn’t cruel, as you think. If you can’t have sex, it will let you have booze. I had a whopping whiskey and cola last night.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the dig that he didn’t get what he considered his allotted serving of sex. He thought he had all the answers. “I thought Chase didn’t drink.”

  “It wasn’t a long game. Trust me.” He dealt another hand, and this time, she stayed at nineteen. He got twenty.

  “You’ve got to be cheating.” She grabbed the deck from him and inspected the cards, then glared. The smug bastard was suspiciously innocent-looking. She slapped the deck back on the table. “They don’t look marked.”

  He shrugged, revealing nothing. “I’m good at this.”

  “Smug bastard.” But she chucked her socks at him.

  He grinned smugly and dealt her another hand, and she went over by two. He had eighteen. “Shirt?”

  She smiled slowly and pulled her arms out of her shirt sleeves. One bra strap slid down, then the other, under her shirt. Then she unsnapped the front clasp and put her shirt sleeves back on her arms. She chucked her bra, and it hit him in the face. “How’s that?”

  He fondled the silky material that had bound her breasts moments before, and said softly, “You went over, though.”

  “So?”

  “You owe me something.”

  Ugh. She was running out of resistance, and the inner clock ticked away the time until she gave up and just did him. But the idea of owing something special gave her a naughty thrill, one that didn’t help her plan to stay celibate. “What, then?”

  “Go in the other room and find my book for me?”

  She blinked, baffled. “That’s it? You don’t want me to kiss you or strip or blow you? You want your book?”

  “I want my book.” He nodded and shuffled the cards, looking very contrite. He wore the expression too well, like a second skin. “Please.”

  “You’re insane.” But this was easy, and it meant she would last a bit longer before her mind just gave up and she fucked him. She got up and went to the living room, skirting the sofa. “It’s not here.”

  “Look harder.”

  She bent and shuffled the stack of books on the coffee table.

  “Well, well. What do I have here? An international spy in my house?”

  She froze as she picked up a book she’d dropped on the floor. Jake didn’t role-play spies. He’d once said it was too much like work. But hearing international spy, the code they’d once discussed, sent fear slicing through her veins, his tone deep, menacing. All business.

  She swallowed that fear and looked up. He stood in the doorway, the floral sofa between them. Jake was every bit as sinister looking as he sounded. Shoulders squared, tense, feet set so he could spring—a golden mountain lion, waiting for prey. Her.

  She rose, wary. Somehow, playing this in his home instead of the safety of the club felt like jumping from a plane without a parachute. She wet her bottom lip with her tongue, her thong immediately soaked because this would be sex she could handle. Not that wedding sex nonsense. Hardcore, kinky sex that would be easy. Emotionless. Pleasurable. Jake would make her come, which would make it even better. “I’m just looking for your book, like you asked.”

  “Sure you are.”

  He stalked closer, and she went around the sofa the opposite way. Oh, he was excited, his pupils large, his breathing just a touch ragged. But damn, he was one big guy. It was nice that he was tall when she was in heels. Muscles were great when you were caressing them. Now, she wasn’t so sure about either. Her division didn’t train as hard as Jake’s. He’d know a hell of a lot more than she did about fighting. Unless he made a huge mistake, she was his.

  She shifted left. He followed, his eyes glittering. She swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. His answering grin was icy cold.

  “I don’t have anything that you want.”

  “Sure,” he said again. His smile was calculating as he tipped his head to one side in question. “Can you take me? I’m a lot bigger than you.”

  He was bigger, but was he faster? “I took you down once.”

  “I had no warning.”

  “You don’t get a lot of warnings in life.” Two doors to freedom. She could dash to the spare room down the hall, but he was closer to that door. The other led into the kitchen and out the back door. If she made it to the yard, she’d be his. He was faster on the long stretch. She could hit the stairs in the kitchen and lock herself in the bathroom or bedroom. She swallowed again, her breathing ratcheting up a notch, because the danger he exuded called to her lust. Did she really want to run?

  “Kate can take me down, you know.” Jake took a step closer. “You may think Kate is all ponies and rainbows, but she’s one tough cookie.”

  “Bastard,” she said on a snarl, hating him as she sprinted left. He grabbed her at the end of the couch and she brought her knee up, hard, into his groin.

  He sucked in a breath and doubled over, releasing her, gi
ving her time to flee. She raced out the side door, up the stairs, taking them two at a time, stumbling at the top. She caught her balance, glanced behind her, and slammed full force into his hard chest.

  “Bad move on your part,” he whispered in her ear. He grabbed both of her hands and wrenched them behind her back, not the least bit gentle. But the kiss on her neck was soft, spiking her lust. “Would you really have gone up the stairs if this were real? Or do you just want to be closer to the bed so I can fuck you until you give me what I want? Because honey, I’m going to fuck you hard.”

  That voice, so dirty… She kicked at his shins, and he held her wrists firmer with one hand. From his back pocket he extracted a roll of black bondage tape, and in two wraps around her wrists, she was his. She struggled. He laughed as he picked her up by the legs and held her upside down, over his shoulder. She kicked her feet against his chest, and he smacked her hard on the ass and walked into the bedroom.

  “Damn it. Let me go. I won’t tell you anything.”

  “Sure you will.” He dumped her on the bed, stripped of bedding except the bottom sheet. “I’m much better at this than you are.” He stared at her for a long moment. “What card did I give you?”

  That’s what this was about? The card? He thought he was better? Game on, buddy. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”

  “Oh, you’re the right girl. Very right.” He grabbed the back of her head by her hair and held her still as he kissed her, his tongue sweeping once, twice inside her mouth. Her core throbbed in time with each stroke of his tongue, jealous he kissed her there instead of other places. He straddled her waist and lowered his weight, the hard length of his cock insistent through the material of his jeans, pushing into her stomach. “You can fight all you want. I outweigh you.”

  “Do what you want. I won’t tell you.”

  “Sure you will.” He took her wedding knife from his front pocket and sliced the tape. “See, your knife comes in handy.” His hands were a blur as he wrapped her wrists together with rope and then secured the other end to the bed. The whole movement was done in a blink of an eye, and she stared at him, amazed at his skill with a rope.