What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  “Better?” she asked, grabbing the sponge from his hands and adding more gel to it.

  “Much. It’s a decent-size tub.” He grinned. Then he sighed as she soaped up his chest and groin. The water was up to his ribs, so areas below the water level received more of a good rubbing than a soaping. “If you keep working my cock with that sponge, I’ll come in the tub.”

  She laughed and dropped the sponge. “Not yet, I have plans.”

  “Which are?” As she got more playful, he got harder and hornier.

  She sighed and ran her hands over her breasts, pinching her nipples, then slipped one hand between her legs and stroked herself. She was killing him slowly, softly, and he fucking loved it. Then she put her hands behind her and arched her back. “Touch me.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere.” She groaned. Her eyes sparkled with lust. His body reacted, forgetting the anxiety of the FLC, wanting nothing more than to bury his cock deep inside her.

  He reached for her breasts, kneaded the beautiful globes. With the flat of his thumb, he flicked her nipples until they pebbled, then he leaned forward and sucked one. She cried out. He tugged, drawing the nipple out and sucking it harder. Then his fingers parted her folds between her legs and found her swollen clit. He pinched it with his two fingers, and her body jerked. Then he teased it, lightly touching, knowing he was making her ache. “You want more?”

  “Yes, harder. Please.”

  “I thought so.” He pressed on her clit, and she shouted out his name as his fingers shoved inside. “Like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmm. I can feel how wet and hot you are.”

  He wasn’t expecting it when her hand clamped around his cock, and she stroked him. Damn, she felt so good. “Tell me what you want,” he said.

  “Make love to me.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. And his heart burst. He loved her. How could he let her go through with the plan?

  “I’ll help you out of the tub.”

  “No, right now. We’ve both been tested and immunized for everything on the planet after getting this job, and I’m still on the pill, so no worries.” She shifted so she was on her knees and straddling him.

  He should be making this comfortable for her, instead of doing it crunched up in a bathtub. “You sure?”

  “Hell yeah, Jason. I want you now.” She held his cock in position, and he felt her moist heat touching the tip of his cock. Then, a second later, she impaled herself on him.

  They both groaned. He grabbed her hips and rocked into her as best he could, considering she was on top of him and the tub was unyielding.

  She ground her hips in a rhythmic thrust, and by the sounds of her moans he knew she had to be close to her climax. Using his thumb, he rubbed her clit, making her go wild. He loved it when she was like this. “Come for me, baby.”

  She moaned then. “Ahhhh!” Her body shuddered and jerked, and he continued to thrust into her, harder and faster.

  “I’m going to come,” he warned. The first pulse was so intense he gripped her shoulder, then the next several pulses ripped through him. He closed his eyes, drifting on the pure high of pleasure. Slowly, he tumbled back down and pulled her into his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder.

  He’d come so hard, his head was spinning. He kissed the tip of her nose. They held each other close until the water cooled. “Hey, Sweet Pea. Let me get you to bed.”

  She nodded. “Only if you stay.” She tried standing but needed Jason’s help. “I feel drunk.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He drew the towel around her and dried her off.

  When he opened the door, Dexter was standing there, whimpering. “Aww, Dexter. I’m okay.” Dexter wagged his tail when Zoe came out of the bathroom in Jason’s arms.

  “It’s all right, bud. She’s fine.” Jason carried her to the bed and pulled the covers over her. Dexter lay down on the floor near Zoe.

  “Hurry back. I think I’m ready for round two,” she said, giggling.

  “Where are you getting all this energy?” Usually after a BDSM session, a submissive would want to sleep. They’d be thirsty, even hungry.

  Jason used the bathroom then drained the tub. After he hung up the towels, he walked back into the bedroom, and Zoe was sound asleep. Soon she’d have to kneel before a maniac and be his submissive for the greater good.

  How could this peace agreement help cure violence and terrorism in the world when fighting had been a part of life for several centuries? He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed strands of hair back from her face. She’d sleep for hours now. In the corner, curled up in his dog bed, Dexter’s puppy belly rose and fell. His little paws twitched as if he were running in his dreams.

  She’d bought a townhouse. He smiled at the irony. She’d adopted a dog. The woman who didn’t want to settle down, who wanted the freedom of mobility. He didn’t even know if she liked kids. And here she was a homeowner with a backyard and a dog. Everything had changed. She was making a future for herself, and it ripped a wide hole inside of him knowing she’d planned a future without him.

  It was his own goddamn fault.

  Walking around the other side of the bed, he crawled in and eased up next to her. After all this was over, he’d take her on a vacation someplace warm and sunny. His phone buzzed, and he checked the readout. The hairs on his arms stood up. No fucking way. There had been another attempt on Alana’s life.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jason arrived two hours early to the cocktail reception. All the White House staff and FLC members attending had been instructed to do so. A quartet, which was warming up, played orchestral music in the entrance hall. The caterers and wait staff rushed in and out of rooms with glasses, plates, carts of food and bottles of alcohol. No one would know the level of heightened security inside and outside the building. Extra security had been added after Alana’s attack.

  Many of the world’s most powerful leaders would be attending, those in agreement with the peace treaty and those adamantly against it. Jason wanted to see how the president was going to keep a world war from starting within the walls of the White House tonight.

  “Whose idea was this again?” Tyler asked as he stood beside Jason, wearing a more formal suit.

  “The president or first lady. I’m not sure,” Jason said. “Frank is going to have his hands full keeping the media away. Someone leaked info about the reception. News vans are lined up outside.”

  Tyler made a grunt. “Frank already has his hands full assigning extra security to Alana’s room. FBI has stepped in to investigate. They want to know how someone managed another attempt on her life when she was under guard. No one is allowed near her room without a security escort.”

  “Any chance the FLC’s assassin has targeted her because of the scene with Aleid?”

  Tyler frowned. “I doubt it. I hope not. She’s loyal, not like Celia. The FLC had been giving Alana special training in martial arts, weapons and computers for future undercover assignments outside the Red Tape Room. The FLC has plans for her.”

  “If she recovers,” Jason added.

  “They moved her out of Intensive Care. She’s off the critical list.”

  The news eased Jason’s mind a bit. Still, someone wanted her dead. “Zoe and Melissa are driving Julia crazy because they don’t have permission to see her.”

  “It’s too much of a risk right now.”

  Jason heard some commotion by the entrance. “The UN officials are here. A bit early, aren’t they? They were told no one would be admitted to the parlors until after seven thirty.”

  Tyler checked his watch. “It’s six o’clock. Secret Service will have them wait in the Grand Foyer.”

  Jason laughed and shook his head. “Guess who’s with them? Mrs. Charlotte Ellison.”

  Tyler nodded. “She probably wanted an early start to criticize Mrs. Bryson’s party. She’s a piece of work.”

  “I’d have used a different word.”

  “Good ev
ening,” Julia said from behind them.

  Jason turned and gave her a polite nod. “Good evening, Julia. You look amazing.” She wore a flowy green dress that showed a bit of cleavage. Quite a change from her conservative business suits.

  “Thank you.” Julia even smiled, but only briefly. “Mrs. Bryson wants to see all the FLC Secret Service agents upstairs in the East Hall immediately.”

  “Is there a problem?” Tyler asked.

  “Not exactly.” She glanced around the room at the preparations. “A change in plans, I believe.”

  Jason studied the nine men in black business suits who stood at attention before the first lady in the East Hall. They were all elite team members, handpicked for their intelligence, physical strength, covert and/or military training and also for their sense of loyalty to the country and the first lady. These nine were her private miniature army to aid her in the FLC business. The adrenaline rush tensed his muscles. He always liked that thrill right before the start of a mission, but he couldn’t shove aside a sense of foreboding.

  The first lady stood and walked toward her men. She looked elegant in her red dress, her signature color the media always commented on. This dress was elegant and classy, and she’d worn it before. Jason smiled. The media spent more time talking about the clothing and shoes of celebrities, or who was sleeping with or divorcing whom, than life-or-death current events. They spent more airtime discussing how the first lady wore the same dress in public more than once rather than focusing on one of her projects.

  “A situation has come up.” Faith paused until she knew she had everyone’s attention. “Blake just informed me that Majeed Kadir will be arriving early and attending the reception after all.”

  Jason glanced at Tyler. The leader’s arrival made the reality of the impending nightmare all too real. He hated the idea of that madman touching Zoe.

  “During the evening, I’ll be inviting the target delegates over to the West Wing for a tour and then to a viewing of the Red Tape Room. These tours must be private. It will be your job to station yourselves at various points to stop anyone from passing as I conduct these tours.” She waited until the men nodded. “Use the excuse that it’s for security reasons.”

  “What about the media?” Johnny Vargas asked. “How the…how did they find out about the party?”

  The first lady made a face. “We’re looking into that.”

  “What if you don’t get these men to agree to a session this evening?” Jason asked.

  “Then we fail,” she said. “Besides Melissa, Julia, Zoe and other FLC members, we’ll have a number of non-FLC White House staff women attending who are quite attractive. These men have been away from their lovers and wives for several weeks during the stressful peace talks. A little temptation of beautiful women should help maneuver them right where we need.”

  There was agreement and nods among the men. “Anything else you need from us?” Johnny asked.

  “Any other concerns?” Blake added. The clean-cut former military intelligence officer with his hands on his hips looked like he should be wearing camouflage and combat boots instead of the nice business suit. As Frank Phillips’ assistant, Blake didn’t need a badge identifying him as security.

  “Keep the UN officials out of the West Wing during the tours. Especially Charlotte Ellison,” the first lady said.

  Zoe entered the Blue Room with her heart pounding so hard she swore everyone in the room could hear. A champagne cork popped, and she jumped.

  Melissa squeezed her hand then released it. “Relax, will you? Didn’t you used to go undercover with really bad guys?”

  Zoe took a breath and let it out slowly. Her pulse slowed down a bit. She laughed nervously. “Yes, but never dressed like this.” She smoothed the royal blue chiffon dress she’d bought the other day. The material was so light it fluttered when someone walked by. The dress draped over one shoulder and was decorated with a large jeweled pin. Melissa also wore chiffon in an A-line black dress with a beaded bodice. “The bad guys I’ve dealt with never dressed so nice either.” Delegates and their officials and aides or bodyguards stood around in small groups, drinks in hand. When she spotted Jason across the room, she relaxed. The warmth in his smile made her insides soar.

  He marched straight across the room. “Wow. You two look gorgeous.”

  “So do you,” Zoe said. She wanted to put her arms around him and kiss him, but even a friendly gesture wouldn’t have been appropriate in this setting.

  “You look handsome, too,” Melissa said. “Make sure you keep your eyes on our targets and not your beautiful girlfriend.” She scanned the room and frowned. “Looks like Miss Charlotte already has monopolized the party.”

  “Where?” Zoe asked. Mrs. Ellison sat in a Victorian chair, wearing a formal gown. The party had been announced as being an informal meeting. Around her, several dignitaries, including a couple of the FLC’s targeted presidents, hovered, intently interested in her flamboyant conversation.

  “My, my,” Zoe said. “Doesn’t she look like Scarlett in Gone With the Wind during the barbecue at Twelve Oaks, entertaining all the single male guests?”

  “Faith will have a fit when she sees that,” Melissa said.

  The music from the musicians shifted to playing Hail to the Chief, but a short, understated version without the usual flourish. Considering the hostilities and tensions during the peace talks, grandstanding would have been in poor taste. The president and first lady entered the Blue Room to a round of applause. Anyone who was seated stood. Zoe noticed Mrs. Ellison was the last one to stand. For a woman who bragged of Southern manners, she was spiteful and rude.

  The president gave a short welcoming speech to the honored guests and visitors and thanked them for their patience and persistence during the efforts with the peace talks. When the music returned to a soft classical piece, the guests continued with drinks and hors d’oeuvres. The president and first lady began their rounds, greeting visitors. Faith went directly over to Charlotte.

  “This should be interesting,” Melissa said. “Watch this.”

  Charlotte grinned as the first lady approached. With a sweep of her hand, she waved toward a chair, inviting the first lady to sit beside her as if the room and party were hers. Faith shook her head and spoke to the men without showing any sign of annoyance. Charlotte hadn’t even gotten up when the first lady approached. The dignitaries greeted Faith graciously, shaking hands and nodding politely. She said a few words, smiled at Charlotte, then turned to walk into the Green Room. The men followed, leaving Charlotte sitting by herself.

  “Show’s over,” Zoe said, giggling. “Champagne?”

  “Excellent idea,” Melissa said.

  “Behave yourselves,” Jason said, grinning. “I’ll make my rounds. Catch up with you later.” Jason met up with Tyler, and the two men went out into the Cross Hall and headed in the direction of the West Wing.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Melissa said. “Seems as though all the targets have been herded into the Green Room.”

  The musicians began playing a waltz, and a few guests started to dance. When the first lady entered, the president strolled out with two United Nations diplomats. “Did you notice that?” Zoe asked.

  “Yes, I did,” Melissa said in a hushed tone. “I’ll bet those two won’t be in the same room all night.”

  “With all these people around, I don’t know how she’s going to pull this off,” Zoe said, taking a sip from her champagne flute.

  “You’ll be surprised.” Melissa leaned against Zoe. “You see the man with the short beard and black-framed glasses standing to the right of the first lady?”

  “Yes. Who is he?”

  “Vice President Qadir Muhunnad from Algeria. The president isn’t well. He’s been in the hospital for four weeks. Why he’s there has been kept a secret, but we believe he has terminal cancer. Alana was selected to be Muhunnad’s submissive before her accident.”

  “I know. Julia wants me to take Alana’s place.”
Zoe studied the man and tried imagining herself as his sex slave. Her stomach turned, and she fought the urge the run from the room and outside, where the cool October air would revive her, or make her numb. This mission should be easy compared to the others. She’d have to kneel for these men, strip for them, and allow them to touch and flog her. Other than embarrassment and a little pain, the assignment wasn’t hard. Unlike dealing with an arms dealer, who wouldn’t think twice about slitting her throat or torturing her.

  Melissa patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. Someone will always be with you.”

  A number of guests streamed out into the Cross Hall. Voices rose. Melissa grabbed Zoe’s arm and went into the hall, too. Coming into the front entrance was General Terrence Guzman and, along with Secret Service and foreign bodyguards, the president of Iran, Majeed Kadir.

  “He’s early,” Zoe said. “I thought he wasn’t getting in for another day or two.”

  Melissa shrugged. “He has a private plane. What I don’t get is why Guzman is with him. The general hates Kadir. I’m surprised the president arranged for him to escort Kadir from the airport. Secret Service would’ve done fine.”

  President Bryson led the Iranian leader into the Blue Room, but the first lady remained in the hall, talking with some guests. After a few smiles and handshakes, the first lady directed the Algerian down the hall, slowly, pointing out historical paintings along the way. It wouldn’t be obvious to most, but to Zoe, who was trained to notice subtle clues, the first lady and Muhunnad were discussing more than paintings and history. “I think we’re seeing Faith in action.”

  “She’s been working the targets the moment she walked in the door,” Melissa added.

  Faith and Muhunnad strolled toward the West Wing. Zoe’s mouth went dry. “I think I need something to drink.”

  “Zoe, I think you should switch to soda.”

  “I was planning on it.” She grabbed Melissa’s glass. “I’ll ask the bartender to add club soda to our flutes, while you find some yummy hors d’oeuvres.”