by Jo Davis
Blaze loaded their luggage in the trunk and they were off, following directions to a McMansion in a nice outlying suburb. The idea of staying in a hotel had been nixed, partly because of the privacy this assignment would require but mostly to ensure they had a real address should one of their targets get suspicious and check.
When they pulled into the drive a half hour later, her lover whistled through his teeth. “Dang, I’m glad we’re not footing the bill.” He glanced over at her. “I don’t do badly for myself, but even if I worked until I’m seventy and saved every penny, I’d never be able to afford living like this. Does that bother you?”
“Of course not.” She frowned. “Why would you ask me such a stupid question? I won’t deny this is nice, but a home is what’s on the inside.”
He winked. “I knew it. One of the many reasons we’re perfect for each other.”
“I think so, too,” she said, warmth spreading through her.
Blaze carried the two heavy suitcases full of clothing, leaving her with the two lighter duffels filled with makeup and wigs. On the front porch, he set down a suitcase, dug for his keys, and found the right one.
In the foyer, they paused at the marble entry and stared in awe. White columns, arches, and vaulted ceilings soared, while a zillion windows filled the interior with light. By contrast, the furniture was darker, perhaps walnut, with fabric in shades of red and gold.
“I wouldn’t be comfortable living like this all the time, but it’s cool to pretend, just for a while,” she admitted.
“I’ll say.” Leaning into her, he nibbled her ear. “What do you say we check out the master bedroom?”
“I like the way you think… sir.”
Dropping the luggage, he grabbed her hand. “I’ll come back and get these!”
She giggled as he dragged her up the wide staircase and dashed to each doorway, looking for the right room. Finding it, he pulled her inside and took her in his arms, delivering a blistering kiss.
“God, I’ve been wanting you ever since you nixed joining the mile-high club. My cock is so hard I could pole vault. Feel.” He guided her hand to the pole in question, proving his point.
“Poor baby,” she crooned. “What can I do to make it all better?”
“Strip, fast.” Grabbing the edge of his jacket, he held an innocent-looking button to his lips. “Go for a long walk, you two perverts.”
They made short work of their clothing, and Blaze hung their bugged jackets in the closet for good measure. He pulled her over to the king-sized bed and fell backward, bringing her down on top of him. Straddling his hips, she leaned over and kissed him slow and deep, loving how his erection rode the crack of her rear. Somehow, just kissing, being naked on top of him, seemed as intimate as actually making love.
An idea formed, and she gazed down at him. “You said you used to be a sub.”
He tiled his head. “Yep. I wasn’t a natural, but it did have its rewards.”
“What did you like best as a sub? The actual sex, I mean.”
Pausing, he thought about that. “I didn’t like being topped by a man, but I loved being dominated by a strong woman, letting her do what she wanted with my body.”
Oh, my! And I’m the woman on top at the moment, lucky me.
“What are you thinking, baby?” he asked curiously.
“That it’s highly unfair I never got to have you submit to me,” she whispered into his mouth. “Do you think it’s fair?”
“Mmm. No, I believe you were robbed,” he answered seductively. “Why don’t you show me what you’re made of? Take what’s yours.”
She needed no further invitation. “Stay very still.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His cute grin and sparkling gaze fired her blood.
Scooting to the side, she kissed his sexy lips and his jaw. Worked her way down his throat, nibbling and kissing. Then on to his nipples, taut brown discs that obviously loved the attention she lavished on them. She worried them with her teeth, feeling very smug that his breathing had become more audible, a bit faster.
She moved on to his flat stomach, tonguing his insy and making him laugh. But he held still for her, letting her do as she pleased. When she crawled between his legs he obediently spread them wide, giving her complete access.
“Beautiful man,” she murmured in approval, lowering her head to lick his balls. “I wish I had some of those toys you packed in the suitcase.”
“I think you’re doing just fine without them.”
“From the size of that juicy cock? I’d say you’re right.”
She laved and rolled his testicles, working them with her mouth until he was groaning, hips thrusting upward to stab empty air with his erection. Good — she wanted him mindless by the time she was finished.
“Knees up and give me your ass, tough guy.”
He readily complied, and she parted his ass cheeks, revealing the puckered hole awaiting her attention. With gentle flicks, she lavished the small entrance with the same attention she’d given his sac, getting him nice and wet. Then she inserted one finger, carefully pushing past the resistant ring of flesh, fucking him nice and easy.
“Oh, shit… Emma! Oh, God, yes,” he moaned, writhing on her hand.
“Can you take this, honey? Do you like me finger-fucking your ass?”
“Christ, don’t stop!”
“Oh, I have no intention. Not until you shoot your sweet cum all over.”
Adding another finger, she slid them deep. In and out, working him, driving him insane. She couldn’t resist taking his cock into her mouth as well and sucking him down, giving him a double whammy of sensation.
She sucked and fucked him harder, faster. When her fingers brushed a soft, spongy spot inside him — a man’s magic button, so she’d heard — he cried out hoarsely.
“Ahh! Damn, I’m gonna — gonna—”
Pulling off his cock, she demanded, “Come for me.”
Thick, ropy streams of cum pulsed all over his belly and chest, painting his skin with pearly cream. His shouts were music to her ears, puffing up her ego big-time.
She’d done this to her man — made him lose control. Beg for her touch.
If this was even a fraction of the powerful feeling her lover experienced when he dominated a sub, she knew why he loved it so much.
“God, you rocked my world,” he said breathlessly.
“Does that mean I get to do it again sometime?”
“Anytime you want, darlin’. Just say the word.”
Smiling, she crawled up next to him and snuggled into his side, content to put their mission out of her mind for a while.
But tonight, the naughty game of cat and mouse would begin.
Eleven
The first two nights were a bust.
The third, as they say, was the charm.
It had been only a matter of time before at least one of their targets showed his face at the Velvet Underground. Blaze spotted one of the men from their file, and his blood surged with the familiar thrill of the chase.
Bending to Emma’s ear, he pretended to kiss and nibble — not a tough task. Instead, he spoke into the listening device doubling as her earring. “Kosta’s at the bar, alone. Look alive, folks.”
Emma nodded, and they had to trust that their fellow agents heard the message. The equipment was state-of-the-art spy gear, but they had no way to copy a response without wearing receivers in addition to the transmitters. Too big a risk of discovery. If he and Emma executed their parts well, Ozzie and Willis would need only to be there, recording every damning word for evidence.
The trick now was to gain Kosta’s attention and entice him over to talk without the man realizing he was being lured. It had to be his idea to approach, not the other way around.
The problem was that Emma wasn’t supposed to make direct eye contact with another master. A forward move from her would be frowned upon and might make him suspicious. Added to that, Kosta was absolutely straight. No men in his stable whatsoever, whic
h meant he wouldn’t look twice at Blaze. Something had to be done to turn the man’s attention in their direction.
He bent to her ear again. “Go get us a drink and make sure you brush against him. Nothing obvious, though.”
Taking a fortifying breath, she met his eyes, her gaze conveying a hint of nerves and the desire to pull this off well. For her, this went way past helping agents play dress-up.
They could die trying to obtain the information needed to save their country, just like countless covert operatives before them.
She moved gracefully through the crowd, turning heads as she passed, and he felt a surge of pride. The tall, striking woman in the purple leather skirt, bra, and knee-high boots was his, and he wanted everyone to know it.
At the bar, she squeezed in between Kosta and another patron, not looking at either of them. Signaling the bartender, she crossed her arms on the counter and leaned over, giving anyone who chose to look a damned fine view of her cleavage.
And Kosta’s attention immediately dipped into the flesh on display. Blaze wanted to pound his face. But this was what they were counting on, what needed to happen. The man’s dark eyes never left Emma as she smiled, paid for the drinks, and returned to their table.
“Here you are, sir,” she said, sliding his beer in front of him. “Is he watching?”
“Like a rabid wolf. I think he plans to bide his time, though. Maybe he’s suspicious, or just trying to decide whether we suit his tastes.” Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close on the seat of the booth, tucking her into his side. With his free hand he toyed with the silver zipper on the front of her bra, lowered it a fraction at a time. “Let’s help him along, shall we?”
She licked her lips and lowered her gaze, hiding the trepidation that flashed there from prying eyes. The slight hitch in her breathing was noticeable only to him as he revealed more of her than she’d likely ever believed she’d willingly show a roomful of people — the party at Dietz’s hideaway notwithstanding. Parting the leather cups, he exposed her breasts, almost revealing her nipples. Almost, but not quite. One wrong move and she’d spill from the garment, and while such displays were par for the course in this type of establishment, he didn’t want to exploit her in public more than was necessary for the job.
Even if playing with her did make him hard as a friggin’ rock.
It wasn’t entirely for their target’s benefit when he traced the swell of her breasts and teased the edge of the leather bra where her nipple hid. Slipped his fingers inside and gave the little nub a light pinch with his thumb and forefinger, rolling it. She gave a gasp, pressing into his touch rather than away. So sensual, his baby.
“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”
Blaze looked up at the deep voice and into the rugged face of Augustine Kosta. He wasn’t a handsome man, but his presence was commanding. Dangerous. Dark hair was swept back from his face; dark eyes penetrated the soul of his quarry. Here was a man who demanded your attention and was used to getting it by whatever means necessary. He pushed every one of Blaze’s ass-kicking buttons, and reining in the compulsion was getting more difficult by the second.
“Please, have a seat,” he answered with false congeniality. He hoped Kosta couldn’t hear the note of threat in his voice. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Yes, thank you.” The man accepted offhand, almost as if the offer was simply due him.
He signaled a server, gritting his teeth. “Please bring the gentleman whatever he wants.”
“Scotch on the rocks.”
The server hurried away, and Blaze held out his hand. “John Chase. Nice to meet you.”
His target accepted, lips curving upward slightly. “Augustine Kosta. And who is the shining star on your arm?”
“Mr. Kosta, this is my wife, Brandi.” He gave Emma a squeeze. “You may address the gentleman, love.”
“Hello, it’s good to meet you,” she said pleasantly, glancing up at the man, then lowering her gaze respectfully again.
“Likewise, my dear,” he murmured, lust apparent in soulless, glittering eyes like onyx. He spoke to Blaze while still studying her. “You’ve trained her well, Mr. Chase.”
At this point it was crucial that he extend the olive branch of becoming acquaintances by offering more familiarity. But shit, how it grated. “John, please. And yes, she’s done fine, though she was an easy sub from the start. Quite malleable.”
Now, that was a big lie.
“Mmm. I can see that,” Kosta commented with undisguised appreciation.
The arrogant fuck couldn’t see anything at all. Blaze didn’t have to guess that Emma longed to kick him in the shins for the “malleable” remark. He knew her very well, and she was doing an admirable job keeping her irritation under wraps. Under other circumstances, he would’ve laughed.
“I haven’t seen you two here before,” Kosta said, turning his curious inquiry to Blaze.
“First time. We just moved to the D.C. area, and we’ve been searching for another club to call home.” Blaze waved at the sleek interior. “In terms of sheer extravagance, this one beats any I’ve ever tried, hands down.”
That was true, though he much preferred his own club at home. Adam Langley and the rest of his staff lent their establishment a welcoming, friendly atmosphere that was disturbingly absent here.
“What do you do, John?”
Here we go. “Oh, some investing. Real estate, flipping property. This and that.”
A gleam of interest lit the other man’s eyes. Avarice, not a sexual interest. “You do well for yourself, I suppose.” Not a question. His attention lit briefly on Blaze’s gold Rolex.
“Not too bad. Business has its ups and downs. What about you?”
“Much the same. I invest in property and consumer products… and the occasional special project.”
A thrill of anticipation shivered along his spine. “Sounds intriguing. Such as?”
“I back entertainment acts, mostly rock. Have you heard of Ash Kelly?”
Oh, no fucking way. “Who hasn’t?”
Kosta chuckled in a way that came across as mocking. “I own him, and several other entertainers besides.”
Own? What the hell did that mean?
“I’d hardly think a star of Ash Kelly’s stature would need independent backing anymore. No offense.” You slimy piece of dung.
“True. It’s amazing what rights a man will sign away when he’s desperate to make it big.” He smiled as though he’d made a great joke. “Though I’d be willing to sell Kelly’s song rights, seeing as how he’s less than a stellar investment at the moment. They’d be a steal at a mere one hundred million.”
Jesus Christ on roller skates. He stared at the asshole, trying hard to keep his mouth from dropping open. Ash had sold his soul to this devil — Ted Turner’s evil twin — to gain fortune and fame? God, he wished he was a rich man. If he was, he’d take the man up on his offer and free his cousin from his clutches. How much did this pressure have to do with Ash’s downfall?
He’d have to figure that out later. Right now, he had to steer the offer toward a particular investment — one that affected the lives of many.
“That’s a bit rich for my blood,” he replied, forcing a smile. “But I’m always open for new opportunities. If something else comes along, let me know. Here’s my card.”
Removing his wallet, he extracted a fake business card embossed with a cell phone number they’d set up for this op, and handed it to Kosta. The man tucked it inside his jacket and continued to study both him and Emma for several long moments as the server set down his drink and left. He took a sip of the scotch, studying them.
“Do you two play nice in the sandbox?”
Blaze gave him a slow, appraising look. “We’re highly selective. You? I suppose you could watch.” He let his tone suggest he could care less.
Kosta’s eyes narrowed, and Blaze resisted the urge to give him the finger. Here was an SOB who wasn’t used to being den
ied in any way. Well, surprise, dickhead. You ain’t touching my woman.
As he returned the cool gaze he got the distinct impression Kosta was close to simply calling it a night. But something held him there, and he had a feeling that something was linked to the conversation they’d just had about investments. As he’d hoped, the other man saw him as a golden opportunity — to fund Dietz, with any luck.
Would that temptation be enough to allow him and Emma into their viper’s nest?
He resisted the urge to hold his breath or act like he gave a crap one way or the other. Just two Doms shooting the bull, one inviting the other to watch him play with his sub, the talk about money forgotten.
“Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve played the voyeur,” Kosta said, a small smile curving his lips. “I have a regular room here. Shall we?”
“Absolutely.” Blaze rose and took Emma’s hand, finding it a little clammy. She was nervous, as was he, but there was no help for it. Undercover, they did what was necessary to survive and attempted to minimize the damage to their moral compass.
Such as it was.
Kosta led them to a room much like Blaze’s at home, equipped with every decadent play toy imaginable. Despite the company, Blaze felt the familiar rush in his veins. Adrenaline and lust, coupled with power.
This was his element. He ruled here, and he wouldn’t be inhibited.
“Strip,” he told Emma, shucking his own clothes.
She had more reservations, sliding Kosta a hooded glance before complying. Blaze noted that she turned her body away so the other man could see only her profile. Perhaps it was an unconscious move on her part to protect herself from a distasteful enemy.
Kosta didn’t appear to notice, but sat on a stuffed chair and immediately freed his half-mast rod from his dress pants. Gripping himself, he began to stroke it to full attention, his eyes never leaving the scene Blaze was staging.
The man’s silence was so strange that Blaze forced himself to ignore him altogether. He ordered Emma over to a padded table. “Bend over at the waist and take the hand grips. That’s it — now spread your feet wide and brace yourself.”
