by Bex Dane
I leaned into him, my arms stiff by my sides. "She's not dead!"
"She's too old to be hooking."
"She could be a madame. One of the girls knew a woman named Claudia."
"That all you got?" He threw his hands up. "There's lots of hookers named Claudia." God, I hated his condescending tone.
"The girl who knew Claudia had been part of your father's stable."
He froze and stared at me with shock in his eyes. "Fuck."
"She told me about other girls in the same situation. I find those girls and rescue them."
He paced away and back again. "I asked you straight out. Tell me about the stalker, and you lied like a first-class liar. Told me you didn't know who it was. Meanwhile, you're putting yourself, my team, Thorne, Soledad, and the entire cast of the Metropolitan Opera at a huge risk. So tell me now. Is my father targeting you?"
"No. I don't think it's your father."
"Who the fuck is it?"
I could lie to him. I could refuse to tell him. But Falcon had a way of getting to the truth eventually. "The girl who knew Claudia had been sold to a man named Ivan Sharshinbaev."
His brows drew together. "I've heard of him."
"You have?"
"Yes, Rogan's working on a case related to him kidnapping some girls and turning them into slaves. You involved in that?"
"All the girls I've rescued had ties to Ivan Sharshinbaev."
"Well, shit. You should've told me this. You can't withhold critical information like this. Jesus, Aida. You've got six bodies on the ground, and you're lying through your teeth to me, to the investigators? Why? Why don't you give this information to the people who need it most?"
"What can a bureaucracy do? He's invincible. He can't be extradited to face accusations of American laws. He's a king in his country. If the police get involved, they arrest the girls for prostitution. They won't take care of them like I do. No one has even gotten close to touching Ivan or any of his men. This way works. I'm having the most impact on the ground, really helping people. Not running some kind of investigation from an office. Not talking about ways to extradite him, and wasting time trying to find evidence that meets some impossible law defining sex trafficking. There is no evidence. It's lots of small transactions that look like prostitution but it isn't. It's human trafficking and it's hard as hell to prosecute, especially internationally. There is only the women sitting there crying. They are desperate to be rescued. They can't wait for the law to save them. They need people like me who are willing to take chances, break the laws, and fight for them."
He looked at me for a long time. His mind processing the information. "Feel like fucking you."
"Falcon…"
"Feel like making you moan."
"Wow. You're so in touch with your feelings." I just poured my heart out to him, trusted him with my darkest secret, and he busted out cro-magnon man wanting to fuck. "There anything more to you than your dick?"
"Yes."
"Like what? Because I don't see it. I see a cold-hearted machine who could look at that girl, listen to her weep, listen to me tell you the most important parts of my life, and all you can say is you want to fuck?"
He stalked toward me, a grin growing on his lips. He bent down and scooped my legs up below my ass and lifted me up. He carried me to a chair and sat down, forcing me to straddle him, my knees bent into the chair. Big warm hands settled on my hips and his pretty blue eyes focused on me.
"You're sweet inside. Like a chocolate lava cake."
"I am not."
"You don't want the public to know you got a soft spot. You're compassionate. You're a fighter. And you're brave."
Oh, that caught me off guard. "Wow. Almost sounds like you like me."
His hand came up and brushed my cheeks with the backs of his fingers. "I like you. And I get it. I get the pain you feel for those women. I get you wanna make it right. I've rescued a lot of women from bad situations. Not all of them came out alive, but I get how it tears up their lives, makes you want to kill someone for the way they've been treated. But you gotta stop risking your life to save theirs. When they're burying you, the priest is gonna have a hard time explaining why the opera darling died at the hands of a pimp. And I'm not gonna sit through your funeral. I've been through a lot of them and yours is not one I wanna attend. I'm gonna die before you just so I don't have to suffer through the sadness of the day they put you in the ground."
Oh. Well. Wow. "Thank you… for saying that."
"Don't get me wrong. You're still a hot mess."
I slapped his chest. "Shut up." I finally had him talking and I wanted more. "Tell me about the women you've rescued."
"Nah."
"I wanna hear. You say you get it, but do you really?"
"I get it. First woman I rescued was Soledad. I was only sixteen, but I knew I had to help her. My father and Manuel tore her up so bad, she was losing it. Got her out of there. Feel good about that. She's happy now with a solid man at her side. Your mom ended up in the same situation, and I set up the escape. Saved you from a dark future. Signed up for the Army, rescued American hostages in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria. Helped my buddy Torrez get his woman out of Manuel's hands. Those are just a few. There were others."
"And what about the ones who didn't make it?"
He glanced out the window then back at me. "You wanna know? I'll tell you because you might learn from it and realize what kinda fire you're playing with." His hands squeezed my hips. "I told you about the wife Rogan had before the one he has now. He warned her not to follow him. She did. She got kidnapped and killed. We buried her. None of us ever got past it. Every time we see a woman like Isabella, we all remember the vivid details of Eden's death. She wasn't his soulmate, but losing her set us all on the path we're on now."
"You believe in soulmates?"
"The way Rogan loves Tessa, you got no choice. Those two were meant to be. For me? Nah. I control how I feel about everything so I won't let myself fall in love. Even if my soulmate shows up and bewitches me like a snake charmer, I can resist because I got no dreams of it working out."
The floodgates had opened. Falcon was sharing. "What dreams do you have?"
"I don't dream. I plot. First plot is finding out more about Ivan and his network and looking into bringing him to justice. Second is my father. I let him live because I thought it would be fun. Seeing as he affected the girl you met and probably lots of others, I'm thinking he needs to have a come-to-Jesus moment."
"I dream," I said with a wry smile.
His hands ran up and down my sides. "I know you do. I bet you have nice dreams with lots of love and soulmates and destiny shit."
I tilted my head and thought about how to answer him. "Sometimes. I believe in love. I believe there's someone we're meant to love. It just takes time to find them. Our heart has to be ready for it and open to it. That hasn't happened for me yet."
His lips curled into a naughty smirk. "Hopefully it doesn't happen before our arrangement is over because your soulmate might not appreciate my dick in your cunt."
I gasped and laughed. "Jesus, Falcon. So callous."
"Sayin' it like it is." His hand patted my thigh. "You find your soulmate, he has to wait for Ivan to die." He looked up at my hair and reached for it.
"So the arrangement is over when Ivan is taken down?" We were dancing around dangerous territory here.
"Yes." He twirled my hair around his finger.
I didn't like the casual way he implied he could stick to the arrangement. A huge part of me wanted him to feel sad it would end, but he showed no emotion. "And then you'll go after your father?"
"Most likely." He sounded very non-committal for a man who just said he preferred to plot over dream.
"And when he's dead?" I asked him.
He shrugged. "I don't know. Suppose I'll look up some hits and see who needs to die next."
I couldn't hide my frown. His future sounded bleak and depressing. "Well, that's lovely."
His hand moved to my neck, and his fingers twisted into my hair. "You want an extension of the arrangement? Can't live without the titanium cock?"
God, he was so cocksure! "No. You can come and go as you please. I have my own life to live." I turned my nose up and masked any emotion I was feeling. I wasn't giving that to him if he didn't want it.
"Okay, mi paloma. Gonna fuck you now."
Falcon was done talking. I knew it wouldn't last long. That was fine with me because sitting on his lap with his hands exploring had made me hot and bothered. "Mmm." I wiggled my hips, trying to get deeper into him.
He raised his hips and pressed his hard cock against my core, igniting a spark that sizzled from the back of my neck down to my toes.
"Yeah, she likes the titanium cock."
"Shut up and kiss me."
And he did. We made out on the chair for twenty minutes, just teasing like we did in the dressing room. His hands caressed every inch of my ass, including the crack. I pulled his shirt up and trailed my fingers over his hard skin. Beautiful. I scratched my fingers through the hair on his chest and pulled the shirt off to admire his shoulders.
He had me so turned on, I couldn't stand it anymore. I scooted to the floor, worked his pants open, and freed his cock. It stood strong and big in front of my face. I'd never seen one so big. Every penis I'd ever seen had been six inches or so and reasonable size. Falcon's cock dwarfed all those in both length and girth. My core ached thinking about how good it felt inside me, filling me up. His hand in my hair wrapped around my head and pushed down, encouraging me to suck it. With one hand braced on his knee and the other around the thick base of his cock, I slipped the swollen tip into my mouth.
His head fell back with a groan. The piercings added a whole secondary level of erotic stimulation for both of us, and I loved drawing the sharp, savage cries out of him.
Lord, he tasted incredible. Salty pre-come dripping from the tip. A musky scent coming from the hair at the base. A masculine man. Not a dancer or an actor. Falcon was the real thing.
The cold metal balls of his apa rubbed my tongue. His hand pushed down, forcing more of his bulging cock into my mouth. I opened wide to allow room for the piercings, but didn't move. I'd done this before, but each time I'd feared hurting him.
"Suck. Hard. It's okay."
I closed my lips tight and pulled back with a hard suck. He groaned louder, his hands digging into my hair, his legs dropping open wider. The beads played against my lips before popping out of my mouth.
"Fuuuck. You're gonna kill me."
"Mmm," I mumbled around his cock. I loved how he became so unhinged when I did this.
"Jesus, mi alma." My soul.
I wanted him to come in my mouth.Wanted to feel that explosion close up, smell it, make it happen, taste it and swallow it.
His hands reached under my armpits and pulled me off his dick. I stared down at the glistening wet shaft. "I want it."
"Gonna come inside you. Gonna fill you up. Want you to moan in my mouth. Yes?"
I stood up and bent to kiss him. "Yes."
He slid my pants and underwear over my hips. I stepped out of them. He lifted his hips, raising his big red cock like a flag as he took a condom from his wallet.
"Climb on up." He ripped the packet open with his teeth, one hand on my ass pulling me toward him. I spread my legs and straddled him, using my hands on his broad shoulders to steady me. On my tiptoes, I held my hips just above the tip of his condom-covered cock. When he pulled my neck down to kiss him, the tip of his dick brushed my skin. God, it felt good. So tempting and tasty and erotic. Everything with Falcon made me feel alive, sensual, and lucky. "Take it. It's yours. Take it all."
His hands drew my hips down, and we both groaned as he slipped inside. Each bead bumping and teasing me as I slid down.
He tugged my hair and forced my back to arch. He lifted my shirt, his mouth engulfed my nipple. His hand on my hip pumped me up and down on his dick. The thumb of his other hand slid over to my clit and swept it in lazy circles.
We moved slowly, enjoying each slide of skin on skin.
His hips jerked up, his hand in my hair pulled my mouth to his, and I released a long, rich, earth-shattering moan into his mouth. He grunted his approval, and my world erupted into one eternal climax.
He ended the kiss and looked down to watch us fucking. I panted into his ear as he dragged out my orgasm, rolling it right into the genesis of another one.
"Fuck yeah. Fucking A. Fuck me. Yeah." The low scratchy whisper of his words and our skin slapping together vibrated loud in my ear. The sounds of total unleashed, raw sex.
He squeezed my hips tight and constrained me in place as he pumped into me from below. He seated himself deep and groaned, his dick reaching far inside me. I watched his stunning face as he came. All Falcon's intensity jetted out of him. His mouth opened, the veins in his neck popped, and a low drawn-out growl emerged from deep in his throat.
A few more slow pumps and his breathing calmed. I sighed and rested my forehead on his shoulder.
His hand reached for my chin and his thumb and forefinger drew me in for a scorching, wet kiss. God, I could kiss Falcon forever. I could stay like this with his giant cock filling me, watching his face go slack, smelling his strong scent. Just please let me stay like this forever.
I opened my eyes to see his had changed. They looked at me differently. With affection, respect, and God, it looked like it could be love. He'd just told me he didn't believe in love, but that kiss spelled it out in neon pink cursive letters. Love.
But he'd said he could never feel love. He wouldn't allow it. We'd agreed to sex. We'd decided no attachments. Cold panic drenched me like I'd fallen naked into the snow. I pulled away and tried to get up but his heavy forearm wrapped around my waist and hauled me down. "Stay." He lifted his chin and the warmth of his breath tickled my ear. "Stay," he repeated.
I flopped limply back onto his massive frame. Fine. Let him stay inside me and hold me. For now, in the present, I had this magnificent moment. Falcon under me, begging me to stay.
Tomorrow and yesterday could wait. For now, I could stay.
As we cuddled and our bodies cooled, he kept both arms tight around my back, pressing my boobs into his chest. His arms loosened, and he sucked in a big breath of air. He blew it out slowly. "Your vigilante days are over."
"But…"
"We'll come up with a plan, but no more acting alone. It's too dangerous."
The desperation in his command made me pause. He often became withdrawn and remorseful after sex, but this time he remained connected emotionally. He turned off his natural instinct to shut down, and I respected that gesture. I didn't like the idea of giving up on the rescues, but I had to honor his fervid pleas. I'd pretty much give him anything he wanted at this point.
"Okay," I whispered.
He grinned and tucked his forehead into my neck.
Chapter 16
Falcon insisted we fly to Los Angeles early. Rehearsals for the musical adaptation of Aida didn't begin for another week, and yet he booked the flight, rented a mansion in Beverly Hills, and cancelled all excursions until the "security had been optimized."
He said we could manage risks better in a house than a hotel. Gaspar knew the director and had also arranged a role for Thorne. He moved into the Beverly Hills mansion with us.
For the first week, Falcon, Blaze, and Diesel set up their cameras and built a fortress of bulletproof windows and doors.
While they were "optimizing," Thorne and I lounged by the pool. I loved New York. The city hummed with excitement, people walked fast, always in a hurry. The laid back vibe of Hollywood and the relaxing sunshine in California also sat well with me and helped calm my nerves.
The mansion had a music room with a piano, a small platform that acted as a stage, and some recording and audio equipment. My vocal coach met with me once, but most of my time was spent with Thorne. It was a glorious week. I didn't forget my worries
, but my body thanked me for the down time and reduced stress.
Falcon worked all day, at least I assumed he was working, but I rarely saw him except for brief moments in the kitchen for meals. He spent his evenings in the gym with one of the guys; I may have spied on him a little. After his shower, he'd join me in bed for sex and sleep. He still did his thing where he got out of the bed and sulked in a chair, but he was returning to me more quickly this week.
Tonight he came into the kitchen as I was flipping my lasagna casserole onto a serving platter.
He stared at it with his eyebrows high. "What's that?"
I had to admit the round pile of baked noodles looked odd on the plate. "It's dome lasagna. Traditional lasagna in a bowl. You serve it upside down."
He looked at me then at the platter again. "You cook?"
"Of course I cook. I'm a regular person just like anyone else. I've always loved lasagna and this recipe makes it special."
The curious look on his face triggered a memory. We'd stopped at an Italian restaurant on the drive to New Jersey when he was eighteen and I was fifteen. I'd been brave and ordered lasagna because the picture looked so delicious. That was when I first fell in love with it. Since then, it'd been my biggest weakness, so I only made it for special occasions like this one, where I was locked up in a house and couldn't go out to eat.
I cut him a piece shaped like a pie. "Try it." The cheese and tomato sauce had blended magically into steaming layers of sin. The decadent smell of baked lasagna filled the kitchen.
He took the plate and fork I offered and brought a bite to his mouth. His eyes widened and he chewed and swallowed with an appreciative smile. "Damn, woman. That is excellent. Never would have guessed you could cook."
"I have many hidden talents," I said with a cheeky grin.
"True." He winked at me and devoured the rest of his piece in a few manly bites. He dropped his empty dish and his fork in the sink and walked to the hallway. "Looking forward to tasting more of your hidden talents tonight," he threw back as he left the kitchen.
