by Mia Downing
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it? You are going to end up hooked on drugs and dead in ten years. So as fucked as my life is for stealing your shirts, I think your life is more fucked.” She turned to leave.
He grabbed her arm, her bicep firm under his fingers. “Not so fast. I want to know why.”
Her frosty glare slid along his fingers, chilling them to the bone. “When I return to D.C., I’ll mail your fucking shirts back.”
He had no clue why he couldn’t stop this. He should let her walk away, calm down. Not kill him. But he couldn’t. He wanted her, lust nearly blinding, the blood raging through his veins, straight to his dick. “Then whose shirt is that? The clean one? Tell me, Char, or I’ll punish you.”
“What? Fucking punk. You’re not punishing me.” But her breath caught and turned shallow, matching his, and he could smell her arousal, sweet and beckoning.
“You stole my shirts and you stole some other guy’s shirt. You deserve a good spanking.” Challenging her was like the best aphrodisiac, and though the words were flowing, his mind was thinking of how wet and tight her pussy would be when he fucked her senseless.
“Judgmental punk. On your knees.”
Fuck, yes. But he wasn’t giving in. He wanted the power flip. Right now. He took a step forward, his chest pressing against hers, and whispered, “No, you. On your knees. Now.”
Christ on a motorbike, the man infuriated her. Charlotte glared into turbulent blue eyes that demanded her submission. Her fingers itched to choke him. That pulse in his throat, under her fingers… He stepped that last inch, and his hips slammed against hers, his cock hard. That, combined with his spicy, manly scent set her libido on its head. Her fingers itched in a different way, to take the pulse of his cock and ram it into her pussy, hard. Over and over.
They stared at each other, nose to nose, chests heaving, almost in the same rhythm. The air crackled with tension in the scant inch between them. She didn’t know who moved first, but in a flash, his mouth was on hers, his kiss hard, possessive, her tongue stroking his. They both sank to their knees, hands groping. She swallowed his moan. He unbuttoned her pants.
She smacked his hands. “No! Not here, Jake will be pissed.”
“My house.” He yanked her pants down and shoved his hand into her panties, gathering her wetness. “Jesus, Char. So wet.”
“Not here, please. Fuck me somewhere else. The bathroom, the bedroom, the hall. I don’t care. It’s not fair to make him smell sex when he’s not getting any. He’s reformed, but I don’t want to push him.”
“How kind of you to think of him at a time like this.”
He stood, kissing her as he picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he made it down the hall to his bedroom, then turned and slammed her against the door. God, yes, she wanted him to pound her hard and fast. She unwrapped her legs, and together they yanked down her pants and panties, his pants. Aaron slapped a condom on and grabbed her again, lifted and impaled her in one, hard stroke.
“Fuck, yes.” He slammed into her tight pussy, and the door gave a crack of protest. He froze and stared at her with shock. “Oh, God. Did I hurt you?”
No, she wanted more. Harder. She bit his neck, not wanting him to lose his frenzy. “Move over, to the wall.”
He did, balls deep in her pussy, leaning her against the cool sheetrock, his eyes still wide. “Char—”
“No, don’t over think this. I want to be fucked hard. Do it. Now.”
He closed his eyes and thrust, but it wasn’t nearly as hard, as exciting. She wanted him deeper, her clit slamming on his pubic bone.
“Harder,” she whispered. “Pound me, Aaron, like you wanted to in the bedroom. Fuck me angry hard.”
“Jesus,” he whispered. He kissed her fiercely and lost himself in the frenzy of fucking her, against the wall, his fingers biting into her hips as he supported her.
She wrapped her legs tighter around his lean hips, an orgasm billowing up like a wicked wind, twirling and swirling, ripping at her insides. “Tell me when you’re coming,” she whispered. “I want to come with you.”
He groaned and twitched deep inside of her, stilling for a second. He’d last three thrusts and then shoot the moon—she knew him. “Oh, shit, now.”
That was all the invitation needed. Her pussy convulsed around his shaft just as he finished, her thighs tightening around his waist as the waves crashed into her. Pleasure so divine, so sweet as the spasms slowed. She moaned, reveling in being…alive. Aaron’s skin, his scent, his arms around her. Heady, delicious wonderful.
“Did I hurt you?” he finally asked against her neck.
She snorted and hugged him closer. “I’m not made of glass.”
“I think we broke the door. It’s hard to believe your pelvis is stronger than a door.”
She laughed and ran her hands though his hair, loving the length, the texture. “Jake will fix it. Tell him I slammed it when I tried to kill you for the shirt. He’s fixed many things I’ve broken out of anger over the years.”
“There are things a man shouldn’t have to ask his brother to fix.” Aaron nuzzled her neck. “You want to lie down?”
“Sure.”
He withdrew, carried her to the bed, and dumped her on top. Then he removed the condom, tied the top, and tossed it into his trashcan. “You want a wipe?” He held up a can of baby wipes. “I hate having cum on my hands after I jack off. I know. I’m not very manly. Paul tells me all the time I should be gay.”
How could she knock his clean freak habit when she had a T-shirt fetish? She took one. “I think your fastidiousness is precious.”
“Precious?” He wiped his hands, his dick, and tossed the cloth in the trash. He took her wipe, too. “Yep. I should be gay.”
“But you’re not. You just fucked a woman against a wall. After you bound her and gagged her the night before. I think Paul would be very, very jealous of his precious brother.”
She stretched out, and he lay his head on her chest, his brown hair streaming across her breasts. She’d never liked long hair on a man before, but his was so lush and thick, shiny, begging to be stroked. So she did, the strands shining more under her fingers.
“Whose shirt, Char.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No. It’s important to you, and my goal is to learn every facet of Charlotte because she is one interesting character. Tell me or I’ll punish you again.”
She didn’t know if she should focus on the interesting character part or the punishment part. “That was punishment?”
“Yep. I’ll fuck you against something else if you’re bad. Hopefully not break it.”
She smiled and ran her fingers over his stubbled jaw. “You’re not good at punishment, either.”
“Shirt, Char.’
She sighed. He’d used a Dom’s voice. She could never refuse that voice. “Chase’s.”
“Jesus, you don’t steal from Satan.” He arched both brows. “Does he know you steal his shirts?”
She rolled her eyes, embarrassed. It was bad enough Jake and Kate knew of her weakness. “If he knew, I wouldn’t have to steal them. He could issue a shirt of the month club and keep my addiction fed.”
“Does Jake know?”
“Yes. It pisses him off that I don’t steal his.”
He shook his head against her chest. “Why? Why his, why mine?”
“Nosy bastard.” This man should have been a reporter for one of those stupid rag magazines he showed up in now and then. “I’ve never had to tell anyone this before, except Jake. He told Kate, and I begged them not to tell Chase. I’d die of embarrassment.”
“I’d believe it if you killed someone out of embarrassment, Ma’am. I doubt you’d curl up and die.” Aaron grinned at her. “Just tell me. I promise to not be judgmental.”
She sighed, and after a long silence, she gave in. “Chase’s scent soothes me. I discovered smelling something of his made the anger recede. I don’t know if it’s
normal. I never told my therapist. But I guess my whole life after doomsday is anything but normal, so…” She didn’t tell him the whole truth, that Chase’s scent kept the nightmares away. Nightmares were weak. But the threat of having one made her worry, especially now that the shirt was clean.
“It’s scent therapy.”
“Yes.” She tipped his chin so she could look into his eyes. “I don’t steal them. Kate knows. She supplies me.”
“Isn’t it weird getting shirts from Satan’s wife?”
She stiffened. Of course it was. “Don’t be a punk.”
The punk shrugged and made it look sexy. She hated him for that, too. “It’s an honest question. If I had to get Jake’s shirts from Tia I’d have a heart attack, but I am a chicken shit.”
“For the record, I don’t go and get them every two seconds.” Ugh, she’d have no teeth left if she kept grinding them like this. “Yes, damn you, it’s weird. If I didn’t need to do it, I wouldn’t. Kate was collateral damage, too—Chase’s. She understands what it means to lose everything. She had a different life, and she was thrilled to be given a fresh start. I was not the least bit happy.”
Not happy was an understatement. But she’d confessed enough. No way she was telling him about being suicidal or the nightmares. “I’m not normal, Aaron. Not in my past, not in my future. You should be very, very afraid of me.”
“I am. Not right now, because you should be tired after that orgasm. I bet I could beat you to the door if you tried to kill me.”
She shook her head. Naïve, stupid, cocky boy. He’d be dead before he hit the end of the bed.
“And my shirts? Why do you want mine?”
Tell the truth…lie…truth… Living meant telling the truth for a change. “Your shirts make me horny. They may have a soothing factor as well.”
“I made you horny in England.” That mega-watt grin would have melted her panties if she were wearing them. As it was, her pussy ached a bit, even after that shattering orgasm.
“Yes,” she admitted. “Very. That’s why I kissed you when you were tied up. To see if what I felt was real.”
“That was my shirt from yesterday.”
Leave it to him to notice everything. “It made me want to have sex with you last night. I went over every reason why I shouldn’t sleep with you. Smelling the shirt trumped them all.” That and Jake’s words, but he didn’t need to know that.
“But then I made you cry, and you wanted to wear Chase’s.”
She nodded, embarrassed. The Dragon Queen shouldn’t have fetishes and strange, odd needs.
“Can I have my shirts from England back? I’ll send you all the horny shirts you want, just give me back that black one with the bar logo. Jake gave it to me.”
That surprised her. It was as if he’d asked all he needed and was good with it. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to change that part of her, either. “Okay. I’ll trade you for one you don’t like.”
He slipped a hand to her breast and tweaked her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger just the way she liked. “When you sniffed my shirt in England, did it make you play with yourself?”
Her skin flushed, and it had to match her hair. She didn’t—couldn’t—answer. Her tongue cemented itself to the roof of her mouth.
“I knew it.” He cackled—it was the only word for the evil laugh he gave. “How many orgasms did I get from you? Two, three?”
Living meant you were truthful, even if it killed you or your lover. “Every night,” she whispered.
His hand inched between her thighs, delving into her folds to strum her clit. The jolt of pleasure seemed to jump directly from the nipple he was tweaking straight to her pussy. “I jacked off to the memory of how I felt after a dance and a kiss in a banquet hall basement.”
“Sounds a little kinky, punk.”
“You want to sniff my shirt again?” His grin promised more dirty deeds if she indulged in her fetish.
“I’ve got the real thing, right here.” She turned and inhaled his neck, sucking down his spicy scent. She pulled away and grinned back. “Now fuck me.”
Chapter Eleven
Two cheeseburgers, fries, and a chocolate shake for dinner later, Charlotte sat next to Jake at the table after their quick meeting while Aaron talked to his agent in the other room. Jake was frustrated with work because nothing was adding up in the investigation. But he refused to tell her more, even when she pressed about Celia. All he would say was that it wasn’t going where it was supposed to be going and Chase was pissed as hell. She let it go—if Chase was pissed, they’d all pay.
But Jake did agree to look at Aaron’s door, flashing her a Jesus-are-you-crazy look. At least he didn’t suspect why it was broken.
Aaron padded in from down the hall and leaned in to kiss her neck. “Call Chase,” he whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “I want spy camp.”
She sputtered on a mouthful of shake. “No. What part of no do you not get, punk?”
“Please?” He frowned and turned to Jake. “Call Chase for me.”
Jake looked up from the laptop and over to Charlotte. “Why?”
“He wants me to enroll him in spy camp, taught by us.”
“He wants Chase’s permission?” Jake snorted and went back to reading. “Not no—hell no. The rule when we’re on a mission is not to call the Lord of the Spies unless the shit is hitting the fan. You can text or email, but you don’t call unless he commands it. Period.”
“Why?”
“Fucking nosy, aren’t you,” Charlotte ground out. He just didn’t get no. Two letters, easy to say, so easy to understand if you weren’t part jackass.
Jake sighed. “He has this uncanny sixth sense, like a principal in charge of a bunch of truants. If you’re breaking the rules, he knows. I really don’t want him knowing I’m sitting here on the laptop when I should be running on the treadmill.” He held up his hand, and Charlotte high-fived him. “See, my Ginger thinks the same way. She doesn’t want to be dragged, kicking and screaming, from your bed.”
“So romantic, love.”
Aaron’s frown turned mulish. “Someone wants to kill me, so why shouldn’t I learn a bit more about how to protect myself? It would make your job easier. And it’d be educational for my career. For the sequel.”
“Do you think you can take me, love?” Men twice Aaron’s size and training always laughed when she asked them that. Charlotte did her best to look innocent as he assessed her from head to toe.
“I had some training for the movie, you know. I’m bigger than you are.” He flexed a hard bicep to prove his point.
“Yes, you are bigger and stronger. You could hurt a little thing like me.” Kicking his ass would serve as an excellent reminder that he needed to be respectful. She looked to Jake for permission. “May I?”
Jake frowned. “He might hurt you.” But his body language said, “Go right ahead, kick his ass, just don’t let him bleed everywhere.”
She was good with that. No blood, a few bruises. Lots of respect for Ma’am when she was done.
“I know, love. I’ll have to take that chance.” She rose. “If you pin me, I’ll call Chase.”
Hot damn, he had a chance. Aaron raised a brow and tried to quell his growing excitement. He had a better chance of smuggling ice cubes into Hell than he did of taking Danger Girl down. But he didn’t have to win, he just had to pin her. Being smarter than he was hot, he’d find a way.
He leaned forward to breathe in her ear, “I spent all morning pinning you against a wall.”
She glared like a cute rattlesnake, one he’d pet if he was braver. “Pervert. Let’s go. Outside.”
Jake rose, gathered the laptop, and Aaron found himself mirroring Charlotte’s scowl. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m not missing this.”
“Ye of little faith.” He didn’t need Jake witnessing his downfall.
“Someone needs to hold Ginger’s hand after you trash her.” And that right the
re told him he was definitely going down, hard, and Jake would enjoy every minute.
She tossed her phone on the patio table then strode out to the middle of the small yard. Aaron flicked the back spotlight on since the sun had set. She was pretty in forest green, knee-length pants and a black shirt, that purple bra of hers peeking out of the V-neck. She followed his gaze to her shirt, fixed the lacy indiscretion, and asked, “You ready, punk?”
“Yes.”
She held her hands out in welcome. “Go for it.”
He rushed. He charged four steps, and the world spun upside down, then right side up as he slammed onto his back. She loomed over him and cocked her head, spinning slightly with the world. She put a sneakered foot on his chest, claiming him like a mountain. “Best of three?”
“Five.” He yanked her foot and she collapsed. Ha! He rolled, her feet connected with his chest, and suddenly he was flat on his back again, with her straddling his waist, staring down with innocent, violet eyes.
“Jesus,” he whispered, awe mixing with fear. “This is scary.”
“No flashbacks. I’m just sitting here,” she whispered back.
“You okay, Ginger?” Jake asked.
“I think he broke one of my nails, love.” She ran a finger over Aaron’s lips. “You okay?” she asked softly. “Because kicking your ass is making me very, very hot. I’d hate to think you hurt your…” She glanced down to where her hips made contact with his. “There’s an Aaron James asset I’d like to guard later.”
He flicked his brows upward, wishing Jake was gone so she could guard it now. “You have a safe place for it? Somewhere wet and tight?”
She grinned, dimples flashing. “Maybe.”
“I hope it fits.”
She snorted and ruffled his hair in an un-Charlotte gesture. “So cocky. Go again?”
“Sure.”
He grabbed her hips and rolled, but she dove the opposite direction, off his body and he found himself prone with no Charlotte under him. She straddled his back, pinned his chest to the grass, and grabbed his hair. “Three,” she whispered. “You make me so wet, under me like this. But the game’s over, love.”
