by Mia Downing
He grabbed her by the back of the head and dragged her lips to his, frustrated but wanting nothing more than to be inside her pussy. Obviously, she wanted that, too, because he slipped a hand between her legs to find her folds slick, soaked. He slid his cock out of his pants, palmed the rigid shaft a couple of times, then leaned into her, wanting nothing more than to claim his prize.
“Condom,” she panted against his mouth.
“I want sex without it. You’re on birth control or something. I used a condom with Celia. This is a committed relationship. Give me one good reason why we can’t.”
“Christ on a motorbike, committed?” She turned his shoulders and smacked his bare ass. He was fighting a jolt of scary when her foot pressed against his other ass cheek and she shoved him away. “You’ll wear one so you remember to wear one in the future, because you forgot the first time. Find a condom, punk.”
“I’ll remember.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out the condom. He turned, rolled the condom on and stepped between her long legs. She moaned as he rubbed his cock along her folds, gathering her sweet juices.
“Fuck me,” she urged.
With a groan, he shoved home between her pale thighs, unable to stop the shudder of need as he claimed her. She sighed against him and grabbed his ass, sinking him deeper.
She kissed him and immediately melted from frosty hard candy to the gooey center, the power shifting. He kissed her harder, his tongue more demanding, testing to see if the shift was complete. She sighed, bent to his will, his to command.
Perfect, now he could get what he wanted. He struck up a rhythm with his hips that would drive her wild. “If I have to wear a condom, I think we should work on coming together. We almost had it the other day, against the wall, but you were a hair late. If we worked at it, we could have fucking amazing orgasms together.”
Her cheeks flushed bright red, rivaling her hair color. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was pounding fierce into her tight pussy. “You may not come at the same time as me.”
“Why not?” He knew why not. It smacked too close to the whole lovemaking thing. Lovemaking and coming together were not going to be allowed, but he’d use the threat of them to get what he really wanted. He yanked up her shirt and sucked a nipple through the gauzy bra he’d dreamed of her wearing. So hot.
“Aaron,” she choked out, more of a moan as her pussy tightened and quivered.
“Okay. If I can’t do those things, then let me work on your four orgasms tonight, after dinner.” He stilled just as she got ready to shatter. “Say yes, and I’ll let you come.”
She narrowed her violet eyes but couldn’t control biting her bottom lip for a moment as she struggled for control. “What if I don’t want after dinner sex?”
“Naughty girl, then you don’t need to come until tomorrow, during wake up sex.” He deepened his voice a bit. That depth seemed to spark submissiveness, and he wanted her eating out of his hand for this.
She growled, frustrated, and nails dug into his ass again. “Fuck me or you die.”
So hot. His balls strained, begging for release. “Kill me and you still won’t get an orgasm.”
“Please?” So pretty as she begged, her lips swollen from his kisses, gently parted as she panted.
“Say yes to sex camp sessions, three times a day instead of two.” He pumped a little, just enough to stir the wetness, amp up her desire. “And I want sex with no condom, me on top before you leave here.”
“Manipulative bastard. Fucking punk.” She wrapped her legs tighter, pulling him deeper. “Let me come, and I’ll give you blowjobs. Lots of them.”
“You know what I want, baby,” he whispered, slipping a hand between them to toy with her clit for three pulses of his thumb. He stopped just as her insides readied themselves to erupt. “Say yes. You won’t regret it.”
She growled and drummed her bare feet on his ass. “Damn you, yes.”
Victory tasted almost as sweet as her lips. His hips began the furious pace of in, out, in, grind so he hit her clit. “Come for me.”
Charlotte closed her eyes and let herself shatter around his cock, the waves of pleasure strong and sinful, almost as much as his lips sucking her neck. Damn him, he came at the same time, shooting the moon just as the first wave hit her dead on. But he was right, it was fucking amazing.
She gasped for breath. “I told you that you couldn’t come at the same time as me, punk.”
“Oops,” he breathed, grinning, kissing her, his hips stilling. He held her tight and sighed, one she felt through his entire body. “I’m never going to be able to make a sandwich here again without being horny. So many places we’ve christened.”
She pulled back and smoothed his hair from his damp face. So handsome, and though she’d never admit it, she loved the way he challenged her. “You’ll christen more with your girlfriend someday, Aaron.” She loved his name. Loved saying it and wished she didn’t have to be truthful right now. He needed it, though. “There won’t be a spot in this house that won’t remind you of sex.”
He clenched his jaw slightly. “I don’t want a girlfriend.”
“Of course, you do. You’ll find one who isn’t scary. You’ll see.” She didn’t want that for him, not one bit. She wanted to keep him all for herself. But it was better to be realistic, so it didn’t hurt so badly when she left him. He’d move on to more women and more sex. She would move on to an endgame.
“And you? Will you find another man now that you’re sexually awake, too?” He looked so much like Jake when he was pissed, the cold steel in his eyes, jaw set firmly in that stubborn way. Pissed Jake scared her more than pissed Chase. Pissed Aaron was just as formidable.
She decided to tell the truth, to ease his jealousy. “No. You’re it for me. I’ve lived. I’ll be happy with memories of you.”
He frowned, and the hardness around his mouth and eyes softened. “Until you’re old? Char, that’s not right.”
“I’m never going to grow old, silly boy.” That was the only thing good about her future—never getting wrinkled or old. A suspicious nagging at her gut told her endgame would happen sooner rather than later.
Maybe it was the way Jake was acting. He never shut her out of a mission like this before, and he was telling her next to nothing. Chase never went days without talking to her, which she wasn’t going to complain about right now, seeing Aaron was still deep in her pussy. But it was all just…odd. It set her on edge, more than just the edge of the counter, like she was poised now.
“I’d ask if you were magical, but I already know you are.” He kissed her then, a smile on his lips. “Who said you can’t tame a dragon?”
So silly, this boy. She gently shoved Aaron back, his semi-sent cock sliding free. “Take care of that. We’ll have an early lunch and then go shooting for the afternoon.”
“You going to make me take the TV remote?”
“Only if you’re a punk, like you are now. Behave, and I’ll teach you how to shoot like a real spy.”
****
They found an indoor range that was close to the house. The range was quiet for a weekday, with only one other shooter occupying the lanes. Aaron was having a hard time concentrating on spy camp. Everything she did reminded her of this huge countdown clock that tick-tocked around them. Jake would solve this case, she’d be gone, he’d be alone. He didn’t want another girlfriend. He wanted her.
Maybe she’d go for a long-distance relationship. Those sucked, but it would be better than wondering where she was in the world, whose shirt she was sniffing. He didn’t want her going back to sniffing Chase’s.
His agent had suggested looking into a short-term security detail for a bit once his spy team left. He didn’t feel this film would launch him into instant stardom, but whatever. It made a great excuse to try to hire Charlotte away from Chase. He nodded, pleased. He’d just have to find a way to approach her with the idea. Charlotte didn’t take well to new ideas. Not his, anyway.
Charl
otte settled her eye protection in place and handed him the empty gun. “Show me what I have to work with.” He picked up her gun and she sighed. “You’re holding it wrong.”
He glanced at his hands on the pistol, then back at her. “Why? Isn’t this how people hold a gun?”
“If they’re from the seventies, sure.” She changed his hands on the grip, her fingers warm over his. She studied him, taking his stance in. “Didn’t Jake teach you how to shoot as a kid?”
“Yeah. Rifles and shotguns. Never handguns.” He put the gun on the shooting bench, barrel down range. “Anything else?”
“If you’re shooting to kill, shoot twice. Fast. Bang, bang. They won’t let you try that here, but keep it in mind. And you can breathe slowly or hold your breath, but don’t breathe like a porn star, like you are now.”
“Why?” He was breathing really hard, but her boob pressed against his arm, her nipple tight, drawing little designs in his arm hair as she spoke.
She arched a brow and took a step back, her breast leaving his arm.
He rolled his eyes. “Not the breathing, the shooting twice.”
“It’s called a double-tap. Your eye will make up for wrong shot placement if you do that and maximize the kill. Chase taught me that.”
“Such a good friend.” Of course, Satan shot like a gunslinger.
“It’s saved my life. Chase is the best teacher.”
“I won’t live if you teach me?” Holy hell, he deserved that glare. He felt it all the way down to his sneakers. “Okay, so show me how.”
She lifted the gun, and he watched her face change as she loaded it. Any hint of softness was destroyed by the glint of determination and calculation in her eyes. She met his gaze for a moment, and he looked into eyes without a soul, without a single shred of caring. Then she turned to the range, took a nanosecond to aim, and fired off a round of shots. All landed dead center. Fifteen little neat holes in the black paper with the fake dude on it.
“Holy shit.” Aaron fingered the paper when it came back in so she could change it. He knew she was good, but spy camp was really hammering home the depth of his Danger Girl’s training. “I can’t piss on a fruit loop with that accuracy. And I know my dick.”
He got half a smile for that. “Then it’s a good thing you’re going to shoot a gun at the bad guys and not piss on them.” She set the gun down. “Pick it up, load it.”
He did and she nodded.
“Focus on the sights, not the target, just like you do with a rifle. Here and here.” She pointed to the front and back of pistol. “When it fires, the gun will pull a little. Anticipate that.”
He shot and actually did fairly well, which didn’t surprise him. He’d logged tons of hours with rifles and shotguns, and had been into archery as a kid. Using a handgun should merely be a learning curve.
“Well done, punk. I guess Jake did put some time into you.”
He bent and picked up some bullet casings. “I wish we were in the olden days, medieval times. I could just shoot a bow at everyone and not be laughed at.”
She changed the target paper again. “I thought you learned archery for the medieval film.”
“Nope, I learned as a kid. Can you shoot a bow?”
She searched her memory and shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried.”
“You’d be a natural. I’ll teach you sometime. I shot in high school and college.” He was damned good, too. Had done a bunch of competitions but had been just shy of good enough for selection trials for the national team. That hadn’t worked out in his favor, either. “I could shoot an apple off your head.”
She assessed him then, the look on her face unreadable. “Could you, now?”
“Can you, with a gun? Off my head, of course.”
“Yes.” But her eyes turned serious. Deadly. “If I point a gun at you, apple or no, I’m committed to killing you. It doesn’t mean I need to take the shot; I’ve just made the commitment. Making that commitment with you in the sights would hurt me in more ways than you could imagine. But I would kill you, without hesitation. I don’t play, Aaron.” She turned back to the targets, so frosty cold it chilled him. “You need to practice more. Get to work.”
“What are you?” he whispered and wished he could have called the words back. But they were out, in the world, and suddenly he needed to hear it from her lips.
“I’m your bodyguard. Load up.”
“When you’re not my bodyguard. What are you?”
Oh, her eyes were cold. “You know what I am, Aaron. You don’t need me to tell you.”
“Please.”
She set the gun on the bench and backed him up to the wall, her body pressed to his, her lips on his ear. “I’m a killer, Aaron. A cold-hearted assassin. When things are at an end, they send me in. I have killed more people than you will ever fuck. Probably more than Jake will ever fuck.”
She pulled away and pinned him to that wall with her cold, calculating eyes that seemed to be laced with pain. “Still want to make love to me? Still want me to be your girlfriend? Because when I die, Satan will welcome me home with a party and wide, open arms. That’s why I am no good for you.”
Aaron swallowed back the bile at what his brother and their boss had done to her. But she was wrong, so wrong. She was perfect for him, killer or no. “That’s not you, Charlotte. That’s your job.”
“That’s me. Get used to it, Aaron. You’re fucking a killer. It’s my job. It’s my life. Now load the magazine.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” But as he methodically loaded bullets, he said a prayer for her, just a quick one. One to heal the soul wounded by doomsday. One that would help her to one day realize she deserved life more than she deserved revenge.
Chapter Fourteen
Wednesday morning Aaron waited in the living room for Charlotte, so they could go to his talk show interview. He’d done a bunch of interviews to promote Hidden Asset in the beginning of October, before he went to England to finish up. He had done a few more when he came home for Thanksgiving.
He just had to get through today and the premiere tonight, and he was done. He thought today’s interview was a taping, which made him more comfortable than a live show. The hired car pulled up out front, with a driver Chase had approved. Jake had gone off to case the television studio, wearing his fake facial hair and brown eyes, ready to play bodyguard.
The tension between Charlotte and himself had eased a little after the gun range. Aaron refused to let her career path bother him. He’d asked, and if he wanted to be honest, he had known what she was before he asked. Stupid him. She’d been frosty all night and had gone back to the couch.
So he’d crept out to the recliner and slept in the chair next to her, watching over her, keeping her safe from the nightmares. He’d kept the TV on low so when she woke, he lied and said he couldn’t sleep.
And now he had an interview to get through. Aaron hated interviews with a passion. They asked stupid questions, expected him to laugh at their lame jokes. At least when they started in with the girlfriend stuff, he could shock the shit out of them.
He glanced at his watch—expensive, of course. They expected that. He wore a nice, black jacket over a blue shirt that matched his eyes, or so he was told. Black jeans, because it was allowed. He sighed, just wanting to be naked in Charlotte’s arms instead. That would be more fun.
But then the door opened to the back bedroom and Charlotte came down the hallway, chattering in French with the phone cradled to her ear, her long fingers stabbing an earring into the other lobe. Aaron stood a little taller as he realized…holy shit, someone had taken Danger Girl and replaced her with…a stranger.
Her wine red hair was swept up in all these curls that tumbled down along her cheeks. Her eyes were brown, the color of whiskey and though he knew they were contacts they seemed to sparkle with joy. Her dress was a deep blue and stylish, one that clung to the curves of her breasts and hips, yet fell demurely to her knees.
She noticed him then,
said goodbye to Kate, and ended the call. Her smile was sweet, with not the least bit of cold, hard, or mean she could muster so easily. “Well? Do I meet your expectations, lover boy?”
Her voice was all-American, just as throaty but different. So different. He swallowed, not knowing what to say to this new creature. One who wasn’t upset with him and looked at him as if he were the best thing she’d ever seen. She was…radiant. Beautiful. Every bit a woman he would drag to his mother or the altar. Or anywhere.
That wasn’t right. He wanted to take the old Charlotte those places, too, despite her chosen career. Maybe it was the fact that she was already in girlfriend mode, right out of the starting gate. He didn’t have to coax or cajole to get her there. She was right there in front of him, inches from his face, waving her hand back and forth like he was an idiot. Shit.
“Hello? Punk?”
“Sorry?” he asked, sheepish.
“I asked if you liked the dress.” She stepped back and twirled, her familiar scent washing over him. His Danger Girl, smelling of citrus and flowers, in heels that made those brown eyes level with his without a cynical tip to her chin. “I can change if you don’t like this. I was going for girlfriend wholesome.”
“It’s…fine.” Lame fuck. She was more than fine. She was incredible. “Your hair is curly.”
“You like?” She smiled and picked a piece of lint from his jacket, then smoothed his lapels. “You clean up nicely.”
“Thanks, Charlotte.”
The smile faded. “Amanda,” she corrected. “You can’t forget. If you can’t remember, then stick to baby. But do not blow my cover by calling me Charlotte. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Ma’am.” Danger Girl was still lurking, just under the surface of girlfriend perfection.
She gave him a softer smile, one that erased the hardness in the lines around her mouth. “You don’t have to call me that right now, either, unless you’re oozing Texas charm.”
“The car is waiting.” He gestured to the door, slipping his hand against the small of her back. “How did we meet? In case people ask.”
