Upon returning to their room at the bed and breakfast after making his phone calls, he’d found his beautiful, naked woman kneeling in the center of their bed in full submissive position. Her head had been down with her hands resting on her knees, palms up. It had been the first time since her morning sickness had started weeks ago that she’d been up to playing first thing in the morning, and who was he to deny her?
Angie’s gynecologist was familiar with the lifestyle and had given her a list of play that was and wasn’t allowed. Ian had been pleasantly surprised to see a lot of his favorite things to do to his sub were in the allowed column. He’d gone easy on her this morning, though, ever mindful her nausea could come back with a vengeance. Instead of tying her to the bed and having his wicked way with her, he’d had her sit on his face while he had his preferred breakfast. The whole time—and it was a long time—she’d been instructed to play with those gorgeous tits of hers. After he’d made her cum twice, he’d rolled her onto her back and taken her slowly and easily until she begged for more. Now it seemed as if his Angel was up for round two—and so was he.
Slowly, she pumped his cock as he pushed the covers off both of them. “As good as that feels, Angel, I know what would feel better.”
“And what would that be, Master?”
Damn, he loved that seductive lilt in her voice. “Those luscious lips around my dick until it bounces off the back of your throat. Straddle me so I can play with that ass I love.”
“Mmm. You read my mind. There’s lube on the nightstand.”
Ian’s brow shot up as he glanced over and saw she was right. How the hell had he missed that earlier? He reached for it as one long leg crossed over his chest, and Angie settled on top of him, facing his feet. As he was admiring her bare pussy and heart-shaped ass, her mouth closed around him and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Fuck, woman! I’ll never get tired of you blowing me. Promise me when we’re eighty, you’ll still suck me whenever I ask you to.”
Her chuckle vibrated around him before she lifted her head. “You never ask, Sir, you order. And, yes, when we’re eighty, I’ll still want you …” Her tongue licked his length and then the slit at the tip where a pearl of pre-cum had gathered. “… every long and delicious inch of you.”
She was torturing him with her mouth—not that he minded at all—and he was more than willing to return the favor. With one hand, he squeezed her ass, and with the other, he flipped the top of the lubricant open and dripped some down the crack of her ass. Recapping the tube, he tossed it aside and spread her cheeks wide. Using his thumb, he worked the slick liquid into her back hole while the fingers of his other hand cupped her sex and teased her clit. Once she was well-lubed, he replaced his thumb with an index finger and pushed in slowly. At the same time, he parted her labia then entered her there too.
Angie gasped at the dual attack, and Ian felt it in his balls. As if knowing they tingled, she cupped and rolled them in her hand. Her tongue curved around his thick stalk before her cheeks hollowed and she sucked hard. Ian’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he savored the sensations. “Time for a little game, Angel. If I make you cum first, then you’ll wear a vibrating plug on the jet ride home with me controlling it by remote any time I want. If you make me cum first, you get to decide where we’ll go on vacation next month.”
Releasing him, she peeked over her shoulder at him, her eyes bright with lust and excitement. “Vacation? Like leave Tampa behind and head to a tropical island and act like tourists?”
“If that’s what you want, yes.” Honestly, it didn’t matter where they went; as long as she was in his bed every night, they could be on the moon for all he cared. The Omega Team would officially be on their own, and with the addition of the Personal Protection Division at Trident, Ian and Devon were free to leave each other in charge of the zoo for a week or two. The West Coast Team would be coming to the Rockies next week, then the Sawyer brothers would have to fly out to San Diego for a few days to sit down with Jake Donovan and decide who was going to be the team leader. Jake had been running things from the startup of Trident Security West (TSW), but when his fiancé, Dev and Ian’s youngest brother, Nick, opted out of the Navy in a few months, they’d be moving back to Tampa. “But shopping is limited to one hour per day.”
“Deal.” Wrapping her lips around his cock again, she repeatedly took him to the back of her throat as he sped up his assault on her pussy and ass. As they tortured each other with the intense passion always present when they were intimate, Ian knew no matter who won the bet, he’d still take her on a vacation next month. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do his damnedest to get her to cum first.
He used his fingers to fuck both her pussy and ass, while tapping her clit. He was relentless, yet so was she. Angie was extremely talented and dedicated when it came to blowjobs, and loved giving them. Of course, he loved receiving them—what guy didn’t?
Her head bobbed up and down as she slurped and moaned. Ian’s body responded to the pleasure it was receiving and was barreling toward nirvana, but he wasn’t losing this erotic battle. For lack of a third hand, he leaned forward and bit her ass cheek while pressing hard on her clit. Her walls rippled and clenched around his fingers as the orgasm overtook her and not a moment too soon. Ian bucked his hips upward, his tip touching the back of Angie’s throat as he found his own release. She swallowed furiously, not letting a single drop escape.
As their heart rates and breathing returned to normal, his wife rolled off him, carefully lifting her leg so she didn’t accidentally kick him in the face. Snatching her ankle, he kissed the arch of her foot. “I love you, Angel.”
Dropping onto her side, her tongue licked her lips. She stretched like a sated kitten. “Mmm, enough that I don’t have to wear a vibrating plug and be at your mercy on the jet, Master?”
Resting her foot on his chest, he rubbed her lower leg. He grinned at her attempt to turn things around. “I love you enough to follow through on that, since you’ll be begging me to fuck you when we finally make it back home. But …” His hand trailed up to her naked hip and back down again. “I’ll make it up to you by letting you pick where you want to go on vacation. You and I and Little Bit can get away for two weeks before you can’t travel anymore. When he or she comes into this world, we’ll lose any chance of getting a full night’s sleep for the next eighteen years, so let’s take advantage of the time we have.”
Angie let out an adorable snort. “You’re being dramatic, Sir, but since I’m getting a first-class trip to St. Lucia out of it, be as dramatic as you want. Now, before you head out again to search for that girl, feed me, please.”
“I thought I just did.”
“Just because your sperm created Little Bit, doesn’t mean it’ll sustain him or her.”
“Yes, dear.” Laughing, Ian nibbled on her big toe. “St. Lucia, huh? Good choice.”
*****
As Cain scaled down the side of the cliff, Mancini was lowering the team’s deployment bags next to him. Once Cain and the gear were down, the other man would join the party below. After securing the prisoner with Batman, Cowboy was at the tree line, covering his teammates as they made their descent.
Once they caught the other three men, they’d find an area where a helicopter could land to take the prisoners and girl back to civilization. The team would then finish their training run. They had all proven they worked well together, and Cain was looking forward to Omega being sent out on their own for future missions. He’d gotten used to going to work and getting dirty; it was a huge difference from his Secret Service suits and ties. However, if the need arose for him to take the lead in a situation that required him to pull them out of the closet, he was all set. Blending into the background in a social setting, yet being close enough to his asset to protect them, was something he’d learned early on in his career in Washington D.C.; it wasn’t as easy as people thought it was.
Glancing down before his next push off the wall, he noticed he
was halfway there. Thank God he wasn’t scared of heights. Another ten foot drop brought him that much closer to the ground. His feet made contact against the bluff a split second before something impacted the rock face next to him. A rifle report immediately followed. Fuck! Someone was shooting at him, and he was defenseless in this position. “I’m taking fire. Repeat, I’m taking fire. Not hit, but damn fucking close.”
His co-leader’s voice came over the comms. “Fuck! Drop fast and get the fuck out of there. Anyone have eyes on the shooter?” Had it not been an emergency, Cain might have snarked about that being an obvious thing to do, but McCabe was still issuing orders after there were no confirmed sightings. “Costello, find me that sniper. Batman, you’ve got the girl; Cowboy, as soon as Shades is down, join the search. Skipper, you’re with me. Shot came from north of my location, one click from the cliff. Romeo, you still got your rifle up there?”
“Affirmative.”
“Drop the bags, make sure Shades is down, then get back to Costello. Find this bastard.”
“Copy that.”
Another shot echoed throughout the landscape, and it took Cain a second to register what the bullet had struck. The thunk he’d heard had been one of their gear bags getting hit. At least it hadn’t been him.
He pushed off the rock for a twenty foot drop as Mancini quickly lowered the bags to the ground. Flat out dropping them wasn’t an option since it might damage the SAT phone and some other equipment in them. Letting the rope slide through his glove-protected hands as fast as he could without killing himself, Cain rejoiced for all of a half a second when his feet touched the ground. He quickly undid his harness, pulled off his right glove with his teeth, and had his weapon in his hand in record time. “I’m down and with Cowboy.”
Staying low, he headed for his teammate at the tree line. His adrenaline flowed as they joined the hunt. A thought flashed through his mind as they moved carefully from cover to cover—he wouldn’t be surprised if Ian had prearranged this whole screwed-up rescue. The man had a twisted sense of humor at times. Had it not been for the real bullets flying, Cain would have entertained the thought a little longer as he kept watch for tangos. Fluffs of white fell from the sky in front of his face, and he rolled his eyes—fucking Boss-man definitely had to have planned this or, at least, wished it upon them. If he hadn’t, then God had a warped sense of humor too.
CHAPTER 10
Stalking stealthily through the woods, Tristan searched for their target. After the second shot, all had gone quiet. Thankfully, his co-leader had made it down without taking a bullet in the back. No one on the team had their bulletproof vests on—who knew that one piece of equipment would be what they now wished they hadn’t left behind? Mental note—tell Boss-man to make sure TSW have theirs when they come to do this training run next week.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he brought his fist up to shoulder height, stopping Morrison in his tracks behind him. Tristan had long ago learned not to ignore the sixth sense both he and his brother, Emmett, had seemingly inherited from their father’s side of the family. Their grandmother had called it their Celtic second sight. Whatever it was, Emmett swore it had saved his life many times during his Army tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, and since his older brother felt the same, he never argued the fact.
Tristan’s head swiveled as he searched for the reason his instincts were shouting at him. A single shot was fired and a piece of bark from the tree he was using for cover went flying. It had missed him by centimeters. Ducking, he and Morrison squatted behind two trees and zeroed in on were the sniper was. The bastard was about thirty yards north of them. Using hand signals, Tristan told his teammate to make a distraction to their right, while he skirted around to the left and tried to pin the tango down.
Mindful of the fact there were two more suspects unaccounted for, he waited for Morrison to draw the sniper’s fire. He didn’t have to wait long. The former SWAT officer conjured up just enough noise by stepping on some twigs to divert the other man’s attention. Another shot was fired in the general area Skipper was in as Tristan advanced from the other direction. His teammate whispered a reassurance that he hadn’t taken a hit.
Miniscule movement of a bush ahead and to the right had his gaze shifting. About fifteen yards away, the camouflaged man’s attention was concentrated on Skipper’s location. He was about thirty years old and could be the poster boy for the word redneck. Tristan expected him to spit tobacco through an open space in his teeth at any moment.
Raising his HK416 assault rifle, Tristan quietly got the asshole in his sights through the falling snowflakes, but a deer darted between them. At the sudden noise, the target spun back around and spotted the operative partially hidden by a tree. His gaze met Tristan’s, and in a split second, he registered the fact he’d been deceived.
“Don’t do it,” Tristan muttered at the man even though he was too far away to hear. “Don’t you fucking do it.”
But the words went unheeded and he had no option but to take the shot as the barrel of the redneck’s rifle came around, aiming directly at him. The three-bullet burst from Tristan’s weapon hit the man’s center mass, and he went flying backward to the ground as his finger squeezed the trigger of his rifle. Tristan ducked, but the shot went wide and wild, thankfully not in the direction of any of his teammates. With any luck, the bastard shot one of his buddies.
It was at times like this, the former Delta Force lieutenant wished real life was like the movies. Hollywood made it look so easy to shoot a gun from a suspect’s hands, or aim for an arm or leg from any distance and have pinpoint accuracy. But everyone in the military and law enforcement had it drilled into them from day one of weapons training—aim for the center of the threat’s chest and be prepared to kill. If it’s a choice between you or the bad guy going home alive at the end of the day, that was the best way to ensure you came out on top.
The echoed report of his weapon firing faded away, and there was a short moment of silence before the usual sounds of the forest resumed. This wasn’t a glamourous movie set, and it was highly unlikely the suspect was still breathing, but Tristan wasn’t taking chances until it was confirmed. As he approached, weapon still at the ready, Morrison moved in from the other direction, also prepared to shoot if necessary. When they reached the man, he was flat on his back, blood covered his chest and seeped out of the large wounds that had to be on his back, mixing with the brown earth and white snow around him. His unseeing eyes were wide open, staring at the tops of the pine trees above. Even though it was evident the man was dead, Skipper still kicked the rifle away from the body, then squatted down to check for a pulse in the man’s neck as Tristan covered him.
Shaking his head, Morrison stood again. “Tango Two is down and out,” he announced quietly into his comm microphone. “Any sign of Three or Four?”
One by one, Knight, Abbott, Mancini, Reese, and Foster all responded, “Negative.”
Twenty minutes later, they rendezvoused with the rest of the team after Abbott and Mancini finally came down from the bluff. They hadn’t spotted the third brother nor the father, so it was time to call in to the local law for reinforcements. The US Marshals and FBI would be getting involved once it was confirmed the men were the ones who’d robbed the bank and killed the guard and police officer. They could finish the hunt while the Omega team returned the girl to her family, then headed back to civilization themselves.
Tristan and Morrison found the others had retrieved the deployment bags as they were the last to return. Grabbing his bag, Tristan opened it, pulled out the sat phone, and cursed. He held it up for the others to see. “We’re not out of this yet, boys and girls. That bastard shot up our only communications with the outside world.”
“Damn.” Reese held out his hand. “Let me take a look. Maybe I can salvage it.” He’d been the communications specialist on his MARSOC team, so if anyone could fix the thing, it was him. But after a brief assessment, all he did was hand it back to Tristan. “
If I had my tools, I might’ve been able to repair it enough to get a signal out, but since I don’t, we’re shit out of luck. So much for calling in the troops, unless one of these assholes or the girl have a cell phone.”
Reese hadn’t discovered a phone on their prisoner during the earlier search for weapons. Morrison had patted the dead man’s clothing, before leaving him where he fell, and had found no cell, but had removed a pistol from his belt holster and retrieved his rifle. When Darius asked Mallory, she reported her SAT phone had been destroyed by the men.
Shit. With no way to communicate with Ian or the local law, they had to finish this lovely stroll through the wilderness with their prisoner, who was refusing to talk beyond the occasional “fuck off,” and Mallory in tow. The snow continued to fall, sticking to everything it landed on, and it was getting heavier every minute. To top it all off, they had no idea where the other two suspects were. Well, shit and fuck.
Tristan eyed the young woman who was staying close to Batman while glaring at the man she’d identified as Darrell. While she denied being hurt, she wasn’t dressed for the colder temperatures which had been dropping for the past two hours. In fact, her lips were turning blue. He knew when the other men had a moment, after assuring there was no immediate threat, one of them would be offering up his heavier jacket for her to wear—might as well be him.
As the others stood guard, he pulled Mancini, Morrison, and Foster aside for a moment. Addressing the first two men, he said, “Go get the camo jacket off our dead guy. He was about my size. I’ll wear it and give mine to the girl; she’s already feeling the cold. Depending on how long this snow lasts, we might have to make camp and a fire sooner than expected to keep her warm. Mark where we’re leaving the body so the sheriff’s department can retrieve it. Hopefully the snow will keep it from becoming dinner for any animals, but that’s the least of our problems right now.”
Mountain of Evil_Trident Security Omega Team_Prequel Page 9
