by Gennita Low
“Good Lord Almighty,” he muttered as it began tightening again when he withdrew. He could feel the blood thickening down there. He couldn’t possibly get any harder.
“You said you...liked the thing,” Marlena reminded him huskily. Her eyes were closed, her teeth biting her lower lip. She was enjoying it as much as he was. “Hmm, Stash, more.
He was going to give her so much more she couldn’t give any more orders. He didn’t think he could stand any more torture, but his hand went down there to touch her anyway, unerringly seeking her capitulation. She gave a soft shriek and her inner muscles tightened. God. The woman was going to kill him. But he would have her mindless with pleasure, too.
Half blinded by his own throbbing need, he groped for the rest of the pearls that were free and ground them against her own little pleasure pearl, simultaneously plunging in again. Her gasp turned into a half scream. And then he was lost in the sensation of her orgasm as she trembled and jerked under him. Over and around him. Wet. So wet and sexy. Her throaty sighs mingled with his own grunts. At each wave of satisfaction, her aroused body pumped him. And squeezed him. And kept milking him.
He went berserk, taking and pushing, wanting more, needing more of her. She was still coming, and he shuddered as the chain between them rubbed and teased, enhancing each rising sensation like background music. She moaned, and her head shook back and forth, her hands scrunching the bedsheets. She tensed again, arching her back sharply, sending a series of rhythmic desire as she peaked, a hot drenching that consumed his control. He stopped breathing.
“Lena,” Steve choked out, holding her face still for a kiss. “Lena.” And dived into the deep orgasmic ocean after her, succumbing to the most powerful experience he’d ever felt. All he could say was her name. “Lena...” He kept coming, waves upon waves blasting out of him, and he kept on going, unable to stop. The chain tightened and loosened, tightened and loosened. The beads slid endlessly, torturing them both. They were slaves to each other’s possession.
He didn’t know how long he chanted into her willing mouth. “Lena...Lena...Lena...” as she held on to his shoulders, drowning in sensual delight, gasping his name, then losing control again as she went under one more time.
The expensive strands of pearls linking them together never did break.
***
She was a dead woman.
Marlena stared up at the apartment’s cathedral ceiling in a daze. Her whole body glowed from the aftermath of their incredible lovemaking. He lay half on top of her, so still she thought maybe he was dead, too.
The slight hum of air-conditioning coming on. The quiet clicking of the clock on the wall. The slowly receding heartbeat in her head...hers? His? She wasn’t sure anymore. She still throbbed with heat, and little ripples of pleasure intermittently shook her body.
That was some serious orgasm.
He moved slightly, lethargically, and she returned her gaze to the body holding her captive. His weight wasn’t uncomfortable at all, and when he shifted to give her some room, she couldn’t bear the loss of his body heat. She closed her eyes. Maybe it was okay to die for this.
“One more time,” he drawled into her ear, one hand sliding up to cup her breast.
She snickered. And they both laughed, their bodies shaking with mirth. They could barely move as it was.
“Did you come?”
“Nope, did you?”
“Barely. I faked most of it.”
“Did you now?” His voice had the lazy tenor of a man who hadn’t faked anything. “Which part? The one where you were telling me I was a god or the part where you had your legs around me so tightly I couldn’t breathe?”
She turned to give him a narrow-eyed stare. “A god? I wasn’t the one worshipping me with his mouth.”
“I was counting pearls.”
“Prove it.”
“Two hundred and forty-six,” he told her without a pause.
Marlena pushed at him, and he went on his back, taking her with him. “A very calculating tongue,” she murmured, taking a good look at the body that had given her too many fantasies lately. She hummed approvingly to herself.
“So I’ve been told.”
Cockier than ever, he challenged her at every turn. She wasn’t used to it, a man who kept her interested this long. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. Looking down at him, she realized her raised arms only served to tease him. His gaze was hot again as he regarded her breasts, a small smile touching his lips. She bent forward a little, just to tantalize him some more. She just loved teasing this man.
“You like tormenting me,” Steve said as he reached for her. She smacked his hand away.
“It’s called foreplay, dummy.”
“Another day of your foreplay and I’d be dead.”
She frowned down at him. She didn’t want to be reminded about the subject of death right now. He had been too close to it tonight, and she wasn’t even sure whether the hit had anything to do with her current assignment.
“What’s the matter?” he interrupted, eyes watchful again. “You’ve lost that glow.”
Marlena made a quick decision. She had rolled the dice already, so why not enjoy the rest of the night? Que sera sera, as the old song went. She jiggled her bottom, rattling the necklace that still linked them together.
“Lost my glow? Are you challenging me?” she demanded. “I was just checking you out, see whether you meet with my approval.” She sniffed, gazing downward, and shook her head.
Her words were intended to distract, and the effect was immediate. A macho man couldn’t bear to be challenged that way.
“What do you think? Do I pass?” His hands roamed up and down her thighs.
“I’ve had better lackeys,” Marlena lied as she secretly admired the broad expanse of his chest. She pressed her palms on him, sliding them downward, enjoying the hard muscles under her hands. She ran her fingers along his lats, the curve of his waist, till her thumbs met just above his masculine pride. The man was built like a god. She pressed down and smiled up knowingly at the low rumble he made as he arched upward. She continued to mock him, “My other lackeys were also a lot more obedient. They didn’t move when I ordered them not to.”
“It’s no fun obeying all the time,” he countered, then jerked at her touch. He looked at her hands, fascinated with what they were doing.
“That’s not what they say,” she drawled, slowly winding the chain, looping his hard length. She unhooked the clasp of the necklace and freed herself, pulling the strands off her seductively. He was straining against her hand by the time she was through. “See, eager for more foreplay.” She touched the drop of moisture at the tip and twirled her finger round and round.
“Lena...” he muttered. “What are you doing?”
“Counting pearls,” she mocked, grinning. “One, two, three...” No longer chained together, she slid down till she reached her goal. She flicked her tongue. “Five...six...” There was a male groan from above. She looked up naughtily. His thighs tensed under her hands. She brought her mouth down again, very close to his source of wicked pleasure. “How many did you say there were? Two hundred and forty-six? Eight...mmmmm...nine...ten...” She ignored the grunts of surrender and concentrated on counting. It was important to be accurate. One of his hands tangled with her hair. She bit him lightly. “Careful, I don’t want to lose count and have to start all over again.”
A while later, Steve interrupted, his voice huskier than normal, “You’re going backwards...”
“Ninety-nine...ninety-eight...hmm? Oh, you were paying attention!” Marlena was thoroughly enjoying herself. The taste of him was addictive, a tangy sweetness that was wholly male. And seeing him completely helpless heightened her own arousal. “Um...where was I? Eighty-five?”
“One hundred...and twelve.”
“You’re choking, darling.” He was so big, absolutely gorgeous. She planted a wet kiss on an erogenous spot. Oooh. Look at how he quivered! “Shall I stop and count
later?”
“Is that how you reward obedience?” he asked, his eyes closed, his hips surging up.
“Hmm, you’re right. I have to reward obedience.” She smacked her lips. “Did I tell you I come from Florida? We don’t count very well there. One...two...”
The man she held prisoner with her mouth muttered an expletive. And gave a very male, deep-throated groan when she took his whole length deeply.
***
Steve opened an eye. For a second he wondered whether he’d had an all-night wet dream. His hazy, sleep-deprived mind reported that he had spent the last seven hours doing bed gymnastics with Marlena Maxwell. His sated body affirmed the activities.
Her scent woke him up fully, and he became aware of her curled up against him. They had slept with their arms around each other. Her face was half hidden, snuggling into his body. One of her legs was inserted between his, and even in sleep her free hand held on to the mass of tangled loops between them. He smiled in wry amusement. Always needing to be in control, that was his Marlena.
That last conclusion jolted him wide awake. His Marlena. And he didn’t have the energy this morning to deny he saw her that way. The implication of such thoughts brought a tug of anxiety. The assignment, his job, his operation. He wondered what the hell he was going to do about the whole thing.
Her long eyelashes flickered as he watched. What did a person like Marlena dream about? He’d been so sure of what she was like, how she would be, and instead she’d tangled up his insides and his life in all kinds of knots. She seemed to feel his thoughts because her hand tugged on the chain in answer. He smiled again. Oh yeah. She did have him all tangled up last night.
Marlena’s eyes fluttered open. Deep, sleepy blue between thick, black lashes. His gut reacted with painful need. What was it about her looking at him that turned him into Class A pudding? And the slow, catlike smile elevated his blood pressure to boiling point.
“’Morning.” She gave a long sigh. She sounded relaxed and sexy.
“’Morning, baby.” He couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss her. Long and sweet. Slow and tender. He wanted to drift endlessly in her arms.
She was the first to break away. Her eyes, passion-filled, searched his, looking for some kind of answer. But he couldn’t guess at the question. Didn’t dare, maybe. So he gave her a trademark Marlena stare, lifting one brow inquiringly.
She returned the same gesture, that flash of vulnerability gone. “Hungry?” she asked. “Want me to cook breakfast?”
He answered a tad too fast. “Nope, not hungry.”
Her smile was filled with mockery. “Not at all hungry?” When he shook his head, she yanked at a certain necklace. “Tired? Poor baby.”
He frowned.
Her smile widened. “Last night was a blur...I recommend a recount.”
Oh God, not that way. He remembered too well how long she took. “I concede,” he offered.
“Coward.”
“Never,” he objected. “I’m planning my next move.”
He discovered how lightning-fast she was, even in the morning. He didn’t even bother countering her move. She was on her feet, gloriously naked, and walking away. Nice, shapely ass. He frowned.
Looking back, she tossed out, “Come shower with me and show me your next move.”
“Wait,” he said. She stopped walking away. “Turn around.”
Her brow lifted again at his order, but she didn’t say a word. She slowly pirouetted around. Her beautiful breasts beckoned temptingly. Her tummy was that of an athlete—trim and slightly muscled. He loved the way her hips swayed when she walked. Loved those thighs. Especially when they were parted. And of course...“Come closer,” he commanded softly.
She took a few steps closer, but stayed just out of reach.
Steve looked up. Marlena’s expression was bemused, waiting. “Where is it?” he asked.
She frowned. “Where is what?”
“Tweety Bird. It’s not on your back, and I don’t see it on your front.” His eyes roved over her body. “Anywhere.”
Marlena’s expression froze an instant. Then she looked down slowly. His eyes followed her gaze. “Oh my God!”
Her shock had him sitting up.
“What? What?”
“Tweety Bird!” she gasped. She touched herself frantically. “My pussy must have eaten it!”
Shrieks. Screams. The chase to the bathroom left the room in chaos. Naked flesh met naked flesh as laughter turned into more shrieks.
“You set me up! I can’t believe I fell for that!” There was a long pause. “Hmm...do that again.” And after another long pause, “I can’t believe you set me up. Not funny! Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”
There were many ways to shut up a laughing mermaid.
Later, while she finished whatever women did in front of the mirror after a bath, he thought he’d better cook breakfast before she decided to torture him some more. He grinned. He wouldn’t blame her if she did—the spa tub in that master bathroom had amazingly useful jets...
Looking in the fridge, he pulled out the different items he needed. Better not be an omelet. That might bring about a comparison. He grinned again, feeling remarkably lighthearted. Ham and eggs. Coffee. Should take about fifteen minutes, tops. She ought to be all dolled up by then.
He was setting the table when the door chimed. Security usually called up first to confirm the arrival of any guests, and he hesitated, wondering whether he should let Marlena know. She was still in the back; he could hear the water running. He went to the intercom.
“Yes?”
“Open up, McMillan. We’re coming in.”
Shit. That was Arms. And that meant bad news. The shooting last night. Steve knew Task Force Two would get that piece of news and conclude Marlena was behind it. Harden must have come to a decision. Shit. He was under orders. He unlocked the door.
Chapter Ten
Marlena studied her reflection as she combed out her newly dried hair. Her eyes sparkled back. Her lips kept curling into a smile. She touched her lips. They were a little tender from all the kissing. Shaking her head, she made a face.
What was she doing, acting and feeling like a teenager after her first hot night? This was going to ruin her reputation. She sobered up. A reputation that should never be associated with someone like Stash, whether he was rogue or not.
There was so much she wanted to share with him, and therein lay the danger. She had done this before, knew how terrible the consequences could be. And look at Tess, all mushy over a man who couldn’t forget his past. No, no, not for her. When this job was over, and if Stash was still around, she would wave a cheery goodbye and move on. Better that way.
And what if Tess was wrong, and Stash was a rogue operative? After all, everyone knew how infected the CIA was these days, in all levels. Hadn’t Tess said that he had large amounts of money deposited in some offshore accounts? That could be payoff money.
Marlena gave herself a final inspection in the mirror, tightening the sash of her bathrobe. Before leaving the room, she let the water out of the spa tub, smiling again as she watched the water gurgle away. She thought about the past hours.
The sea mammal liked water, for sure, she mused. He was absolutely creative in it.
The smile was still on her face when she opened the bathroom door. And came face-to-face with three strangers in her bedroom. Stash had his hand on one of them, apparently in the middle of stopping him from invading her privacy.
Her smile turned acidic sweet, and crossing her arms, she leaned one shoulder against the door. “Guests, Stash darling?” she asked, surveying the three faces. So, for once Tess was wrong. But somehow Marlena didn’t feel like yipping it up with her mentor this time.
One of the men gave her a look meant to insult. “You look just as good at close quarters.”
“If you’re here to take her in, do so,” Steve cut in. His curt tone made the others stop their leering perusal of her. There was a small silence, as if th
ey were each waiting for someone to speak up. Marlena noted that Steve exchanged different looks with each of the men. Interesting. Two of them didn’t like her Stash.
It’s our turn, buddy,” the man said defensively, looking at the bed. “Looks like you’ve taken her in already. Right into bed, that is.”
The other two men laughed. Marlena studied each of them, gauging who the leader was. None of them, she decided. “Ah, the peeping Toms,” she said, still leaning against the door. “Wondered when you would make an appearance.”
“You have to come with us.”
“Am I under arrest?” She doubted that. Too much paperwork, and she would be out with a call to a lawyer. No, she knew these people weren’t going to follow protocol. Bringing in the law made it tough to hold her for long. Ignoring Steve, she met the first man’s eyes squarely.
“How do you know we’re the law? We could be just the usual scum you deal with.” The man obviously enjoyed the role of intimidator, letting his eyes rove her body again in an insolent manner. Except that he wasn’t very good at it.
“Your clothes,” Marlena drawled out. He looked down at his clothing, clearly puzzled. “Most of the scum I deal with dress a lot better, darling.”
One of the men—lean-faced, with longer hair—chuckled, and patted the man she addressed on the back. “She’s got a point there, Whitney.”
“I think Miss Maxwell here doesn’t know how much trouble she’s in, Cam,” Whitney said, pulling at his tie and suit. “Weapons are illegal in D.C. We know you have at least two in this apartment. That’s enough to haul your ass in. Then there is attempted murder.”
Marlena finally turned to Stash, who didn’t waver under her scrutiny. “Well, well,” she said softly. What had she expected, that he wouldn’t go through her things? “Three peeping Toms and one thief. Do you mind if I get dressed first? Or do you want me to go with you like this?” She dropped her lazy stance and made to turn around.
Whitney shook his head. “Uh-uh, you aren’t changing in there.”
“In front of you?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Expecting a show?”
