Against the Rules

by Tori Carson

  “Whiny? I’m not whiny. I didn’t say a word until you decided to torture me with that stuff. I’m not used to this spy crap.”

  He tugged her hand back into his and continued to pull out stickers. “You shouldn’t be involved in this shit. You should’ve stayed the hell away from me.”

  The grip on her hand began to tighten. She turned it slightly and he loosened his hold. “But…?”

  “But what?” His eyes widened in question.

  “But you’re glad I didn’t. You’re glad we’re here together.”

  “I am?”

  “Yep, you are.” Suddenly, she was very sure she spoke the truth.

  “You’re crazy. You know that?” He drew her to him and gave her a peck on her forehead. “And you don’t listen to a word anyone says,” he continued sounding as gruff as ever. “It’s like you have your own talk track playing inside your brain.”

  “I listen to you, I just don’t believe you. You want to be with me. You’re just afraid.”

  “Hell, yes, I’m afraid. Afraid you’re gonna get killed and it’ll be my fault. I can’t live with that.” He sounded like he was being honest with her.

  “Everybody dies, Teague. It’s how you live your life that’s important.” He wasn’t dumb. He had to understand what she was telling him.

  “Don’t start that again, darlin’. You don’t have an ounce of self-preservation instinct in your whole body.”

  “Of course I do. I take vitamins every day to stay strong. My vaccinations are up to date to keep me safe from disease. My car has a five-star safety rating. I carry a gun for all the things that go bump in the night.” She sighed heavily not wanting him to know how rattled she really was. “I just refuse to change my life because of ‘what ifs’. Rule twenty-six—live your life to the fullest.”

  “More rules? Woman, you’re killing me.” He shook his head and sounded frustrated.

  “Poor tough guy, harassed by a positive outlook, cup half full kinda girl. What on earth will you do?” She loved teasing him.

  “Turning you over my knee sounds like a possibility.” He was stern and probably meant business.

  “Kink-ee.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

  “Go to sleep, darlin’, I’ve got a bit of work to do.” He took his laptop from the duffel bag and booted it.

  “You haven’t had any rest either. Lie down here with me.”

  “If I lie down with you, we won’t be resting.” His body, unbelievably hard, was making urgent demands he didn’t want to acknowledge. Honestly, he didn’t know what the hell to do with her. These last four or five days had proven how truly fucked he was. He hadn’t had a single moment of peace. While he worked, he had daydreamed, or, more accurately, relived their weekend together. Even the silly parts. Their dinner. Her painting the stupid sensors. Her smile that curled his toes. Her ticklish birthmark behind her knee. The way she raised one eyebrow when he surprised her. Which was often, because she truly had no sexual experience. She might not have been a virgin, but she wasn’t experienced either.

  If she stayed with him, that would certainly change. She’d run straight to her father if she knew all the things he wanted to do with her.

  He looked at her scrumptious body laid out temptingly on the air mattress, her hair a halo of shimmering golds and vibrant reds. Now she had him thinking like an artist. What the fuck!

  He couldn’t look away from her. She was pretty beaten up and although he’d teased her about whining, she hadn’t said shit about all the cuts and scrapes. Channy would make a hell of a life partner.

  On second thought, she wouldn’t run. She’d meet him stroke for stroke. She had fire. Enough to cause a freakin’ inferno and the flash point was his cock. He groaned and hung his head. It wasn’t even about the sex, though that was phenomenal. This wasn’t going to end well.

  “Teague…” Her voice was soft and questioning.

  When she didn’t continue, he turned to look at her. A soft, pink blush covered her cheeks. “What’s wrong, Channy?”

  She sighed. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our weekend together.”

  So had he. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her spread out before him. He spared a moment and typed in his password.

  “And?” he prompted, knowing he’d been a damned poor Dom. She probably had questions and, unlike the subs at the clubs, he doubted she had anyone to ask.

  “It was intense.” She was looking in his direction, but not right at him.

  “For me, too.” He wondered where she was heading with this.

  “I wasn’t entirely truthful.” She bit her bottom lip.

  Now she had his full attention. “How’s that?”

  “Part of me gets annoyed when you take charge… When you order rather than ask. But it’s hot too. I feel like I’m letting the ladies of the world down by acknowledging that.” She drew her knees closer to her chest and put her hands under her cheek as if admitting that tiny bit had made her vulnerable and she felt the need to protect herself.

  He pushed the computer away for a moment and took Channy into his arms. “No, darlin’. You’re a strong, proud woman who also happens to be submissive. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “It was very erotic, but in the light of day… It messes with my head. I shouldn’t be aroused by you taking my control away.”

  “Channy, ultimately, you were in charge. If you had safe worded, everything would have stopped.” He brushed her bangs away from her face. “Who had the real control, darlin’?”

  She tipped her head up to look at him. “I didn’t think of it like that. In my head, I was at your mercy and that made me…hot.”

  “That safe word was your lifeline. It’s just like a rollercoaster ride. In the heat of the moment, those drops and inverted curves can make you think you’re going to die. The fact that thousands of people ride every day without harm slips from the forefront of your brain as excitement and anticipation take over.”

  Channy nodded. “I can see that.” She was quiet for a few moments. “So if I was really in danger, I wouldn’t have felt that way?”

  “No. Over the weekend, you were never truly afraid. Anxious, but no real fear.” And he hoped to hell she never knew the difference. His shadow life should never have touched her. Since he’d taken Donley up on his offer, he’d avoided women like Channy. When his need for companionship overrode his common sense, he had hit the club. He’d found a sub with similar tastes and taken his pleasure that way.

  He kissed the top of her head and lay her back onto the air mattress. “Get some sleep, darlin’. You’ve had a long day.”

  Teague tethered the laptop to his cell phone. After he’d grown accustomed to his life in hiding, he’d learned the value of redundancy. He had stashes of gear placed strategically in the area. Several cars, in tiptop shape, gassed up, batteries charged, stored in various locations and ready at a moment’s notice.

  The safe houses were another story. Law enforcement agencies had houses vacant and ready for occupancy in most large cities. It was amazing what knowledge was available if one only knew where to look. Computer hacking had gotten him into this life and he made sure that it safeguarded him too. He’d learned, several attempts on his life ago, that his survival depended squarely upon him. No one was going to hold his hand and protect him.

  * * * *

  Blood dripped from the tie wrap wounds onto the laptop keys, making them sticky. Squinting, he turned his head to the side to give his right eye, the only one with any vision, a chance at reading the tiny GPS grid. If Foster was reading it correctly, it didn’t make any sense. The intel Foster had on four-six-two said Teague was into high-tech gadgets, not a techno-phobe. Why would it be showing four-six-two in an unpopulated rural area far from running water and electricity? A shiver ran through Foster. If he steered Sammy wrong, the consequences would be unimaginable. Four-six-two had to be jumpy. Could he be pulling a fast one? Setting up a trap to flush out the traitor? It was possible. Fos
ter’d rather take his chances with four-six-two than Sammy. Or, worse, G.

  “He’s set up camp here in this forested area.” Foster tried to point to the exact area on the map laid out in front of him. Drops of his blood pooled and soaked into the green area indicating national park land. “He’s off of I-40.”

  The side of his head exploded in pain as Sammy’s Glock was shoved into his ear. “If I even think there’s a cop within a mile of the place, your little boy will know the meaning of true agony before his untimely death and you’ll watch every long grueling day of it.”

  Foster prayed that he’d pull the trigger. When he’d first been grabbed, he’d tried to piss Sammy off enough to just kill him immediately. Yeah, that had worked well. He felt each failed attempt every time he tried to breathe or move. Sammy enjoyed inflicting pain too much to lose control and end his fun too quickly.

  When this went down, four-six-two would know who had sold him out. It didn’t matter. His career was over. Hell, his life was over. And he was glad for it. He’d done nothing with it. Nothing of consequence. His love of glitz and glam had bought him a stake of devil’s gold. Pure as fool’s gold and contaminated with the blood of innocents. All for the discounted price of his soul.

  Anger raged through him. Foster wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for four-six-two and other self-righteous dickheads like him.

  Men like four-six-two were constantly causing trouble, just to put punks like Sammy and G. behind bars. They risked their lives every day for what? He’d done a little research on four-six-two. The moron had had millions in his grasp. In his position as an IT guru, he’d stumbled upon Mr. G.’s organization. He could have diverted a vast fortune. He had had the knowledge and the wherewithal to get away scot-free. Live a life of utter ease. No one would’ve caught him.

  The agency still didn’t understand half of what he was capable of. Instead, he’d allowed the agency to fake his death. His family believed he’d died in a freak car accident. He’d turned down millions to take some shit job under an assumed name and continue to provide information to law enforcement to lock these bastards up. Stupid asshole. Didn’t he know that it was never going to happen?

  Guys like Sammy and Mr. G. didn’t go to jail. Four-six-two had sold his life away for what? Justice? There was no such thing or he wouldn’t be in the mess he was in.

  Foster shook his head, causing pain to radiate through his body. Funny, pain was supposed to cloud a person’s perception. For him, it brought everything into clear perspective.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You can have more than this life, Teague, if you want it bad enough.” She was probably pushing him too hard, but she didn’t know how much time they had together.

  “I can see there is only one way to shut you up and get my work done.” He sounded gruff and annoyed.

  Kneeling down on the air mattress, Teague towered over her, large and intimidating. She was growing slick with wetness, anticipating his touch. She wished she knew every feminine trick to tie a man to a woman. Sexually, emotionally, anyway she could get him.

  “Take off your clothes.” His voice was low and seductive.

  The way he handed out orders with every breath both grated on her nerves and sent her body into overdrive. It was confusing and annoying. “More orders? We might have to make a rule about that.” She enjoyed bantering with him.

  He raised his eyebrow and chuckled. “I don’t think so, sub. If anyone is making rules around here, it will be me.”

  She smirked, dismissing his badass routine. “You take this caveman thing too far.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Channy.” Teague’s hands were on his hips, he was shaking his head in disappointment. “Here, I thought you were a woman of your word.”

  He was taking this somewhere. There was a hidden trap she’d walked into. “What’s your game, caveman?”

  “I’m disappointed, Channy.” His eyes peered into hers, amusement buried in their depths.

  “Just what did I promise you?” His body language was frightening really. Even down on his knees he loomed over her. Yet she was throbbing in anticipation. The glint in his eyes told her he was only playing with her. “To harass you all the days of your life unless you get over yourself and admit we should be together?”

  “No, although that promise I fear you might keep without batting an eyelash. I’m talking about another promise. One you made to me on Sunday. A promise of passion and primal hunger and harder still to believe.” His eyebrow raised, daring her to deny it. “A promise of obedience.”

  “I don’t remember any such promises on Sunday or any other day,” she lied, putting a hint of indignation into her tone, making it more believable, she hoped. Technically, it wasn’t even a lie. Lying was against the rules. She pretended—yeah, pretending was acceptable. Besides, she’d been under duress. She vividly remembered the sensuous torture he’d used to secure her promise. And she hoped for a whole lot more of his particular brand of torture. Her blood heated and her core pulsed.

  “Did you or did you not promise me complete control over your body in exchange for your orgasm?”

  Her face hot from blushing, a crimson red for as far as the eye could see, she couldn’t stop from squirming. She also couldn’t believe he had just said that. Out loud. Geez. Struggling not to smile, she turned her nose up and to the side and used her most haughty expression. “I certainly don’t remember anything about obedience. You’re making it up. I would never have agreed to such a thing.”

  “Hmm.” His fingers brushed against her pussy causing her to jump. “My tongue was pleasuring you here.” His other hand skimmed across her already peaked nipples. “My hands were caressing your silky, soft breasts. Yes, they remember. Are you sure you don’t?” he crooned, very sure of himself.

  “Well… Now that you’ve put it that way, I might remember something,” she purred, pressing her breast deeper into his palm.

  “I thought you might. I made my demands quite clear. You agreed to all the stipulations.” His drawl was low and seductive.

  “What stipulations? There were no stipulations,” she assured him, trying hard to concentrate on their conversation, though he was making it very difficult. Her body was primed and begging for his attention and not through the damn clothing either.

  “You know, darlin’, I think you’re right.” His hands continued to torment her. He bent down and feathered kisses along her neck. “Our agreement was all inclusive. There were no stipulations. You agreed to give your body into my complete care.”

  She was ready to agree, her head was already nodding until she heard his latest decree.

  “I will decide how to pleasure you, when to pleasure you and how often. You, my sweet subbie, are permitted to say, ‘yes, Sir’ and ‘thank you, Sir’.” A satisfied smirk lit his face.

  No way, he was entirely too smug. “Now I’ll admit I like your touch.” Writhing about, wet and hot, eager for him to be inside her, there didn’t seem any point in denying it. “I enjoy being with you, but I refuse to be your little sex slave. You can put that idea completely out of your head. It isn’t happening.” Her feminine parts were mutinying. His arrangement sounded just fine to them. The disengage brain function was set to launch. A few more kisses and caresses and she’d be lost.

  “Why would you deny yourself such gratification, Channy?” He was gazing intently, watching every expression that crossed her face.

  “I didn’t say I would deny myself,” she panted and pulled her blouse out of the way.

  “I’m so glad you see it my way. Because you know I will give you pleasure, right? You know your fulfillment is the ultimate goal.”

  “Yes,” she whispered into his ear as she rocked her hips to remove her pants. During their weekend together he’d been very attentive sexually.

  “So, if you know I’ll see to your satisfaction and you wouldn’t ever think to deny yourself that, what concerns you, darlin’? Why won’t you give yourself into my care?”


  She gasped as his mouth drew in her taut nipple. A whimper escaped, confessing her deepening need to have him buried inside her. Her ability to think was leaving her fast, but she decided to push him just a little further. “I decide. No one controls me.” She struggled to breathe slowly, knowing he’d take action in the most erotic way.

  “Channy, you just told me control was an illusion.” He bit down slightly on her nipple in reprimand.

  Her eyes flew open in surprise. Her pussy throbbed in response, shocking her further. His swirling tongue only heightened her need.

  He shook his head sadly. “You would deny yourself intense erotic pleasure because of an illusion?” Without waiting for her reply, he pulled her blouse back over her head and smoothed it down over her breasts. “Okay. I wish you’d change your mind. Uphold your promise. But I won’t force you. I promised you that when you were arguing with me over those granny panties. I am a man of my word. I keep my promises.” He sounded very put upon.

  Her eyes wide with disbelief, she stared into the depths of his as he reached to pull her pants back into place. “You’re a butthead!”

  “Channy.” He shook his head. “Why are you calling me a butthead when I’m doing what you wanted?”

  “Putting my clothes back on? No, I want them off. I want you back over here doing all those delicious things you were just doing.” She was quite adamant, her voice still thick with passion and laced with frustration.

  “This whole thing started with me asking you to take your clothes off and you refused.” Emotions chased across her face. Though he tried valiantly, he couldn’t keep a shit-eating grin from surfacing. He loved this side of her. It was second only to the writhing beneath him ‘fuck me now’ Channy. His heart stuttered. Loved. He loved her. Not just the chemistry between them or the sides of her personality. He loved Channy, with all her silly rules and innocent nature. His little firebrand had gotten under his skin and had his heart in a stranglehold. Son of a bitch. He hung his head, composing his thoughts. He wasn’t ready to admit his feelings to Channy. But the realization had hit him like a two-by-four upside the head.