SEIZED Part 3: Steamy Romantic Suspense (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series)

by Coulton, JC

  She looks so beautiful now. There’s not a care in the world as she surrenders to me, begging for what she wants. I make her wait. I want to make her come with my mouth and my cock. I want to make her scream and beg for me to do it again, and I’m not stopping until I hear exhaustion in her voice.

  On the next deep thrust of my fingers, I slowly begin to tongue the hood of her clit. I start above her most sensitive spot and lick around and down the delicate folds of her pussy. The look on her face turns from tension to rapture as she spreads her knees, allowing me full access. My hands are around her hips and she maintains her pose, her clutching hands above her head in full surrender. Finally, I flatten my tongue against her clit and pause for a second, allowing her to feel the warmth and firm pressure of my touch.

  “Oh God, Oh God,” she says, as I hum and twist around her hot center.

  I can feel her winding up. I maintain the same pressure and speed, as I keep my eyes on her face and her movements. She’s going wild and yet I’m hardly moving my tongue, just holding her still and gently thrumming at her clit while she writhes around under me. She’s building slowly and steadily towards a peak I know is on its way.

  Suddenly, I lose control. Watching her is not enough. I can’t restrain myself another minute. I rip at my clothes. I tell her to touch herself as I shed them quickly, my eyes feasting on the way her hands rove between her nipples and circle her clit. She’s looking me right in the eye and groaning. I can’t wait to slide my cock inside her. I pull at my stuck belt buckle in frustration.

  The urgency between us is palpable. I feel my breathing get louder as I take her in; the way she’s moving, her already eyes half closed with pleasure as she strokes her wet pussy and opens her legs in invitation.

  The moisture glistens on her fingertips, and my cock and balls twitch, yearning to get inside her. Finally, all my clothes are off, strewn every which way on the floor. I grab her behind the knees, pulling her into position underneath me.

  “I want to hear you scream.”

  I continue to whisper in her ear. I nudge at her wet, warm entrance with my rock hard cock, delivering hot breaths on her neck as she moans. I slide the tip of my cockhead inside her. She clenches in anticipation. Her lips find mine, and she pulls my face closer.

  “Blake, I want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

  Her eyes are intense. She is so close now, so I don’t delay another moment. I plunge deeply inside her as we both cry out with relief. Her pussy is like a fist around me, squeezing and milking me. I inch back out before sinking myself in again to the root. I slide my hands under her ass and lift her into me, tipping her pelvis back so I can penetrate her deeper.

  She’s so small in my arms; so tiny. I have to be careful. She’s getting noisy beneath me, breathing and groaning hard. She twists her hips in circles that make my cock ache inside her burning hotness. I need to feel her on top now; to see her breasts sway and dance as I spear her wetness.

  I roll over, ensuring I don’t slip out, and pull her on top of me. She settles back down on my thick cock. Her hands are no longer shy as she touches herself. She bucks gently along my hard length, stroking her clit more quickly as I make her bounce on my hardness. She throws back her head, and starts to come, when someone pounds on the door.

  We both freeze, my cock still buried inside her.

  “Ignore it,” she whispers, eyes wide with interrupted pleasure.

  But then the pounding starts again. Whoever it is, they’re not going away. She looks disappointed. The only word to describe how I feel is angry. It can be the officer alerting us to a problem, so we stop. We are part of a bigger issue, so I have to pay attention.

  She slips on some yoga pants and a tank top, and makes her way to the bathroom. I’m up in a flash; clothes back on and gun in hand as I peer through the peephole to check.

  “Who is it?”

  A cool voice says steadily back to me, “Special Agent Jason Cooper, FBI. I’m here to interview Carrie James.”

  I roll my eyes. What a douche. I dislike him already. Of course, there’s nothing I can do. I also don’t want to seem like a territorial hog, so I open the door.

  “Miss James is just in the ladies room, Agent Cooper. Good to meet you. I’m Sergeant Blake Anderson.”

  I hold out my hand to shake it and the guy catches my hand in a firm grasp, not too hard, not to soft. He’s unreadable. We’re both standing there eyeing each other when Carrie emerges from the bathroom.

  “Sorry guys, just got back from a run.”

  Her words remind me to ask the front doorman about her little escapade, but now is not the time.

  I look warmly at her and say, “Okay, Carrie. Good to see you. I’ll leave you two in peace.”

  He nods and gives me a tolerant smile. Carrie meets my eyes, and mouths “see you later” before showing me to the door.

  Chapter Five

  Carrie

  The sudden change of pace has me reeling. I was just about to come. I’m all messed up now. I can barely think. Fuck.

  “Hello Agent Cooper. Can I offer you something to drink?”

  I meet his eyes.

  He smiles and says, “No thanks, you go ahead. I’d like to get this preliminary interview out of the way as soon as possible.”

  I take the hint, and in a way, I’m relieved for his professional tone. It feels like business. I end up making myself a coffee. This morning has been a wild ride, from sneaking around in Jersey, to coming back to some of the best sex of my life. And now, I am facing off with a guy who reminds me of that futuristic dystopian movie with Keanu Reeves.

  The room seems smaller with him in here. It’s strange, because he’s not that big. In fact, he’s quite small, compared to the width and muscle of Blake, but just as tall and lean. He must eat nothing but protein, and the hearts of lesser men.

  I giggle and he looks up.

  “What’s funny, Miss Blake?”

  “Oh sorry, I’ve just never met an FBI agent before. Sorry, you’re exactly what I thought one would be like.”

  He laughs and looks at me strangely.

  “Sorry, I’m nervous,” I say. “I’m a little cagey from being in protection 24/7. All I want is to see April returned safely. It’s been the worst few days of my life.”

  He looks taken aback at my honesty. I’m relieved to see he has a trace of empathy or compassion, or both. Some of these people working in law enforcement forget they’re dealing with real people; not just victims and witnesses.

  I make sure my coffee is black and strong before taking him out to the balcony, where there are still two seats waiting to be occupied. I’m nervous, so I light a cigarette and take my time, examining him for a second. He’s obviously itching to get started. He doesn’t look uncomfortable; just determined.

  That’s what this case needs—someone who won’t be emotionally involved; someone persistent, and who’ll tell me the truth. It’s changing me, the pressure of all of this. I feel like a completely different woman from how I was a couple of weeks ago. For one thing, I smoke way more than I ever did. A pack would last me a couple of months, and now it’s become an everyday thing. The stress is getting to me. I’m doing anything I can do to cope.

  I sit back in my chair. It’s not the most comfortable, but it gives me a chance to really look at Agent Cooper. He’s a handsome man. I am objective, even if I have just climbed out of bed with my first love.

  His hair is black and spiked in a way that doesn’t seem appropriate for a government agent. He balances it out with a suit that looks like he bought it from a high end menswear boutique. He also smells incredible. Even out here I catch the scent of expensive aftershave. I wonder how he can afford to dress so well as a public servant.

  I’m not about to ask him, but I notice, and I do have a well-tuned appreciation for eye candy. See? There I am. The old Carrie must be lurking inside me somewhere.

  “Agent Cooper, can you tell me a little about yourself before we begin? Why has the
FBI decided to wait this long before intervening?”

  He’s a professional. Still, I get the feeling he’s reacting like I’m interviewing him.

  “Good question, Carrie. The FBI has been tracking this case from the morning April was taken. We were unable to intervene until now. We now feel there is significant evidence to support the theory that her abduction is linked to another set of crimes across the country.”

  I take a long drag of my cigarette. “What type of crimes?”

  The moment stretches out. I can’t read him at all. I wait and brace myself for the worst. If April is dead, I’d like to know. I’m sure I’d know already on the inside if she were. Isn’t that how best friends would feel?

  “Carrie, the other abductions happened in a similar way. All were unexpected grabs under the cover of darkness. All were in public places by a group of men in hoods. The kidnapping vehicle description is similar, as is the brutality to the victim or witnesses. And the lack of evidence is the same.

  “In two of the other cases, the security footage was also wiped clean. The witnesses also reported seeing burn scars on the hands and necks of the assailants. All of this tells us there’s a good chance your girl was taken by the same people.

  “There’s a highly technical operation at work here. We know a little more about one of the earlier cases than we do about this one. It’s not enough to find the victim or to lay charges, but we have our suspicions that the women who are taken are being trafficked to gangs in Mexico.”

  At that, I start to cry. “What happens to them then?”

  He looks compassionately at me, but continues on in the same cool tone. “Generally, they’re sold to the highest bidders, who keep them for a few months. After that, they’re passed down through the crew, or swapped for other collateral. Once they’re tired, or the drugs get to be too much, they’re disposed of. If they’re lucky, they’re sent back to work for local pimps here in the States.”

  I feel sick. I have to remind myself not to be dramatic. “So this is just a possibility right?”

  “Carrie,” he says, “Nothing is certain yet. We have no evidence April has been taken out of the country at this stage. The FBI has informants across various gang-affiliated organizations. We’ve got everyone looking out, but no one fitting her description has shown up. Now is not the time to start making assumptions. Will you keep that in mind for me?”

  His words are comforting; sobering too. Until we know what the truth is, I need to keep focusing on the positive.

  I decide I want to know a little more about this man. “Do you mind if I ask about your experience in this area? Why were you assigned to this case, Agent Cooper?”

  He laughs and I have no idea why. It’s his first light moment, before he gives me a look like he’s back in the hot seat of being interviewed—by me.

  “There’s not much of a story to tell. I was born and bred right here in New York City. I went to NYU to study Criminology, and was admitted to Quantico right after graduation. I did my rookie years under some of the best guys in the state, and ended up focusing on child trafficking crimes. It was a disturbing area. The bureau limits our time in the sector to ensure its agents maintain psychological health.

  “It’s easy to lose yourself with the workload and the brutality of it all, but it set me up with a strong network of contacts in a similar field as this one. The fate of many kidnapped trafficked children is virtually the same. First Mexico, and then the world. They’re more valuable because they’re younger, that’s all. I was assigned to this case because I have unique experience that could be directly useful. Does that answer your question?”

  I feel a little chastised. I wasn’t questioning his authority, but his resume makes me realize I’ve been blissfully unaware of the situation from a macro perspective, and possibly also the sheer number of victims. I sense I shouldn’t have asked. At least I can trust he knows what he’s doing. Even if he didn’t tell me anything about himself personally, I can tell he has the intellectual goods to help April. No offence to Blake or the NYPD, but if anyone is going to find April, I think it’ll be this man.

  He also doesn’t seem at all affected by my appearance, or by working with a young woman. That’s a good thing. He must be happily married. I’ve learned who to trust, and on how to use my instincts. I’m not about to stop using them now.

  “Ok, thanks for that.” I put down my coffee cup. “Where would you like to get started?”

  He nods his approval and asks if I mind heading inside from the balcony.

  “Of course,” I say, and we make our way back to the small couch where everything started with Blake this morning. He must sense my discomfort, because he gives me the couch and pulls up a straight-backed chair from the small dining table in the corner.

  “I want you to go over the night April was kidnapped, in detail. Don’t leave anything out, and don’t feel you have to relay it to me in any order. I don’t want you to recite the events like you’ve done before. This is more of a free flow conversation. We’ll cover what happened, and what your suspicions are. After that, I’ll ask you some questions to make sure I understand.”

  I’m starting to feel safe in his hands. It’s less annoying this way. I’ve told the story of the abduction so many times in the last week and a half. I look him in the eye. I’m ready to talk.

  “I’m not sure where to start. I guess I should say that April really needed a holiday. We both did, but she needed it more. Do you know her parents were killed this year?” I frame it as a question, but when he just nods silently, I decide not to stop again.

  “Well, the grief from dealing with that was intense. She was hurting, but she wasn’t talking much about it. It was my idea to come here. When we got to New York City, she seemed distracted. I thought her behavior was a reaction to the change of pace from Iowa, you know? And being in such a large, bustling city.

  We’re from a small town, so it’s very different in New York. I later learned she was acting strange because she was actually making plans to come and live here. She never told me about it. I only found out after she was taken.”

  He’s still scribbling notes, and beside him, a tiny digital recorder timer keeps marching on behind its little glass screen.

  “Anyway, while I thought we were having a holiday, she was making appointments to view apartments without my knowledge. I think the decision must have something to do with her Uncle Jessup. He lives out here and she probably wanted to be around her family; even if they didn’t always get on. That’s what I figure, anyway. I don’t know for sure. It’s just a hunch.

  “You probably already know he’s suspected of being involved in organized crime. That’s why the NYPD spent time tracking him. But there was nothing too suspicious, except the photograph of us dancing in his club. It was taken on Jessup’s phone, and emailed to April.

  “On its own, it doesn’t seem too strange when you think they’re family. But I remember. Everything started after she got that text with the photo of the two of us. That’s when she told me she was feeling ill, and asked if we could leave the club. At the time, I thought it was a guy bugging her on her phone. April was, sorry, she is…well, she’s stunning. She’s always had admirers. It wasn’t unusual to hear her talk about them getting a little too pushy. The only thing she’s ever truly loved is her dog. It’s cute. She’s a veterinary nurse training to be a veterinarian.”

  “You know, I was sure the photo was a key piece of evidence. I thought it was weird that Jessup, an Uncle who she didn’t like much, decided to take sexy pictures of us. Being a reporter, I was already suspicious of him. A couple days after April was taken, I went to the club to ask him some questions about it. I thought he might open up to me in a way that he wouldn’t with the police. I’m practically family. April and I have been friends for so long. I had this idea that it might be something only I could help with, but instead, he ended up locking me in his office.

  “It was awful. I thought he meant well, but now I
know the guy’s just as asshole, trying to influence his pretty, recently orphaned niece. Jessup and April’s Mom were never close, so after she died it came across as quite a contrived affection. It’s sort of like he had a ‘godfather save the day, daddy type’ complex going on.”

  Chapter Six

  Carrie

  “Am I doing this right?”

  I ask him, because I feel like I’m prattling on. I’m probably saying too much. Letting him in on my suspicious reporter’s mind may not be a good thing. It’s not anything Blake would have wanted to hear, but Jason is listening and nodding, so I keep talking.

  “Then, there were the missed calls. On the night she was kidnapped, April received calls from a New Jersey number that I wanted to track down. I was sure one of them was her Uncle Jessup, but as it turned out, the number was not in his personal line. The Police eventually traced the calls back to one of the businesses he owns—an office supply company. But he wasn’t there at the time, so it makes no sense.

  “I found out where it was through an article in the New Jersey Tribune. Police had been called to the building on two occasions. There were reports of a woman screaming, made by staff at the gas station across the road. The police visited the building twice to investigate. It’s weird. Even though the NYPD knew about the reports, they didn’t think to reach out to the New Jersey Police. It made me so angry, to think they’d let such a direct link to the case pass them by. So that’s why I went this morning, to check it out.”

  He stops me.

  “You went to a warehouse in New Jersey by yourself this morning?”

  I nod. “I know it wasn’t the best idea, but I had to do it. I’m a reporter. It’s my best friend out there. I got a solid lead, and when the police refused to follow it, I had to go see for myself. You might have noticed Blake Anderson was here this morning. We’ve known each other for years. We went to school together. I feel he was being too protective of me all through the case.

  “It was just dumb luck that he was the officer in charge, but it complicated things. I get the feeling he wasn’t going to take me seriously no matter what I found out. That’s why there’s an officer stationed here. The more he tried to stop me from looking for her, the more I wanted to look. She’s my best friend. Something had to be done.