by Jo Davis
“Yes, sir.”
“Not too uncomfortable?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I want you to remain in position until I give you permission to move. No matter what I do, you’ll be still, but feel free to be as vocal as you need to.” From a nearby table, he fetched a bottle of lube and a butt plug. “Know what I’m going to do? I’m going to slick that tight hole of yours and fill it with this plug. Then I’m going to deliver a bit of pain with your pleasure.”
He squirted a generous amount of lube on his fingers and parted her cheeks. Began to work in the liquid gently. Her moan didn’t sound rehearsed, and he wondered whether she’d managed to forget their audience — as his own dick certainly had. Fortunately for women, they could fake it if necessary.
Luckily for him, his libido wasn’t intimidated by their watcher, at least not enough to deflate his throbbing erection.
“So tight and hot. Gonna fill you now. Easy.”
Setting the lube aside, he took the plug and began to push the tip past the ring of flesh. Oh, yes, this got to him every damned time. The dark thrill he received from owning a sub’s body, spread and ready for him. He loved watching the little device slide deep into her channel, loved her little whimpers and how she pushed her ass out to meet him. Begged for more.
“Sir, please!”
“Don’t worry, there’s more. Much more,” he said softly. This time, he located what he wanted — a leather paddle with a nice grip. An instrument of pleasure, one that would make a nice pop but wouldn’t do more than sting a bit. “Feel this.”
He rubbed one flat side all over her pert ass cheeks, letting her grow accustomed to what was in his hand. To the idea of what he was about to do. Not wishing to startle her, he delivered a couple of very light taps to begin, and then increased the strength and frequency of the swats.
And they were no more than swats, simply given to stimulate the plug in her hole, heighten the sensation of it rubbing inside, causing delicious friction. No more than that because he’d been telling the truth when he’d told her that he wasn’t into hurting or humiliating his subs. Like their last session in his basement, he wasn’t about to bruise her lovely skin or cause redness that stayed for hours. No, he wouldn’t harm a hair on his baby’s head.
His restraint produced the desired results, too. She couldn’t possibly be faking the husky moans that became louder with each strike.
“Ooh, sir! Oh, God!”
Pleased with her response, he rid himself of the paddle. Stealing a glance at Kosta, he saw the man was fisting his cock, working it furiously, his enjoyment of the scene before him obvious.
Something primal took over, a fierce need to claim his woman in front of this intruder. To let him know to whom she belonged and would always belong. Quickly, he parted her folds, lined up, and pushed into her sweet pussy. Drove himself in to the hilt, exclaiming at the wondrous feel of her gripping his cock, rippling and rubbing all around him. Stroking.
“Fuck, yeah, baby. You’re so wet and hot. All mine.”
“Yes, yours!”
“Don’t forget it.”
He took her with languorous thrusts, fingers digging into her hips, faster and harder. The slap of skin on skin filled the room as he took her again and again. Brought them both to the highest peak and over the edge.
She came first, pushing back against him with a loud scream, wanting him deeper. He could do nothing but oblige; he slammed home one last time and let himself go. Gave up all control to ride the wave of sheer heaven threatening to break him apart.
But somehow he survived the onslaught, all the shattered pieces coming back together to render him whole again. Sated and new. After a moment, he withdrew, though he really wanted to stay right there forever.
“That was wonderful, baby. Thank you.” He kissed her shoulder. “You may get dressed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Blaze turned and began to clean himself off with a moist wipe. Kosta’s eyes were closed, and cum dribbled down his cock and over his fist, evidence of a successful scene. Blaze turned away; this snake did nothing for him sexually.
Apparently the man believed otherwise. “That was most satisfying,” he said, his praise almost sounding reluctant. “I’m glad to see that you two were as pleased as I was by our interlude together.”
It wasn’t any compliment to you, dirt bag.
How he wished he could say it. Maybe he’d get to it before the case was done. For now, he just nodded, thinking it best not to comment at all if he could avoid it.
He and Emma dressed and straightened their clothing. Kosta, who’d needed only to wipe off and zip his pants, waited, expression revealing nothing.
“I’m glad you enjoyed our scene,” Blaze finally said. “Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.” He couldn’t say more than that without sounding too eager for a repeat performance. They couldn’t let him get suspicious.
They needn’t have worried.
“Be here tomorrow night,” Kosta said. “I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine.”
Yes! Swish.
“We’d love nothing more,” he said, offering his hand. That, at least, he could declare honestly. Yeah, we’d love nothing more than to put your whole organization of traitors away for good.
Kosta shook his hand and then strode out the door, not looking back.
Emma opened her mouth, but Blaze shook his head and put a finger over his lips. Later, he mouthed. Aloud, he said, “You really were fantastic. Ready to go home?”
“So were you. And yes, I’m tired.”
He led her out of the club and into the night, scanning all around them for possible dangers. He believed their cover had held, but it paid to be careful. The hit on Michael was proof that none of them were invincible.
He’d best remember that lesson until this case was over.
Emma had never wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment the way she had tonight when she’d had to perform in front of that creep Kosta. And with Ozzie and Willis listening! Ozzie would never let her live this down. Ugh.
Only her lover’s incredible talent could make her forget less-than-pleasant circumstances like those.
“Thank you for not letting him touch me,” she said softly. They were safely in the car and under way, Blaze at the wheel, their two agent friends following somewhere at a distance.
“Are you kidding? There’s no way I was about to let that slime-ball put his hands on you. Besides, we got the objective accomplished tonight all the same — make contact and forge inroads.”
“Yeah, for tonight. It’s how far we might have to go tomorrow or the next night that I’m worried about.”
“Nobody touches you without permission, especially not someone we both loathe,” he said sharply. “Job or no job. Do you honestly think I would allow that?”
“No, not if you felt like you had a choice. But anything can happen undercover, Blaze. You know that.”
“Not with scumbags like Kosta — not when it comes to you.”
A hard knot in her stomach loosened. “You have no idea how good it makes me feel to hear you say that.”
The quiet buzz of Blaze’s personal cell phone broke into the conversation, and he answered, frowning. “Kelly.” A pause. “How’s he doing?”
His frown deepened, and he swiped a hand down his face, expression grim. He exchanged a few more words with the person on the other end and then extracted a promise to be kept updated before flipping the phone closed.
“That was Bastian,” he said. “Michael’s still fighting. He took a turn for the worse today, and they almost lost him.”
“God. I’d hoped—” Her throat closed on the futile words.
“Yeah, me, too. Goddammit, this isn’t fair!” He pounded the steering wheel, letting loose a stream of curses. “It’s not right that a good man like him is clinging to life while these sons of bitches are running around free, preying on innocent people and destroying lives.”
�
��We’re trying to stop them.” She laid a hand on his thigh. “That’s all we can do.”
“I know, but that doesn’t help Michael.”
The truth of that statement silenced them both. No matter what happened with this assignment, Michael’s fate was out of their hands. And it hurt more than she’d ever imagined, feeling so powerless.
Another call followed so close on the heels of the first one that she stiffened, heart pounding in alarm. Oh, God. Please don’t let him be dead!
“Hey, Oz, what’s up?”
She sagged in relief, head on the window, staring into the night. Once again the exchange was brief, and he hung up, checking the rearview mirror.
“We’ve got a tail, a few cars back. Silver BMW. Oz said they’re following a good distance behind, and the car has made every single move we have.”
“Kosta?”
“Probably. Or one of his henchmen, though my gut says it’s him. I don’t think he would’ve had enough time after we all left the club to call someone else to follow us.”
“Me, either. Unless he’d already made us.” The thought of the game being up before it started gave her chills.
“No, he didn’t. If he had we wouldn’t have walked out of there.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a comfort or not.”
“Believe me, it is. We’re still alive.”
Hard to argue with that logic. “So if he hasn’t made us, why is he following?”
“He’s checking us out. It’s what anyone would do if they had their eye on a wealthy mark. He wants to funnel our money into their little group of terrorists, and he needs to be sure we’re legit.”
“Which we’re not, so let’s hope our cover holds up to scrutiny.”
“We have the best people creating the paper trails necessary to make sure it does, and in reality that’s not what usually gives us away. It’s the small things that seem innocuous. A personal habit that doesn’t jive, a turn of phrase, even a facial expression. One single detail being the slightest bit off can get you killed. It’s all in the performance.”
“Frightening as hell.”
“Yes, and don’t let go of that fear. Once you get complacent, it’s over.”
She took that kernel of advice to heart, frequently glancing in the rearview mirror as they rode the rest of the way to their temporary home. There was no way to tell which car was the one tailing them, but that didn’t stop her from looking.
Only when Blaze turned off the highway onto the road leading to the house did she spot a pair of headlights a fair distance behind them doing the same. She thought she caught a flash of silver but couldn’t be certain.
“Looks like the bastard’s going to trail us all the way,” he muttered. “Get our address, run a check.”
“You’d better hope our boys are as good as you claim.”
“They are — trust me. This ain’t my first rodeo, darlin’.” With that, he shot her his familiar grin.
It was hard not to trust him when he pulled out the charm. If she didn’t know him so well by now, that would be dangerous. She almost felt sorry for his enemies, but not quite.
Hitting the button to raise one of the three garage doors, he pulled inside. Instead of closing it again right away, he got out of the car and met her as she came around the back.
“Shouldn’t we close up?” she asked as he wrapped her in his arms. “He can see us in this light.”
He pulled her flush against his body and brushed their lips together. “That’s the whole point. He needs to see a couple who doesn’t have a clue they’re being watched.”
“Oh.”
She gave herself to his mouth and melted into him, boneless. He tasted her, seared her from the inside out like no man ever had.
When they finally came up for air, she scanned the neighborhood out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t see anyone, even our guys.”
“You’re not supposed to. That would sort of defeat the purpose of being spies, baby doll.”
Making a face, she stuck her tongue out at him and started for the door leading into the house.
“Hey! Why don’t you do that again and bring it over here where I can show you how to use it properly?”
“Oh, I know how to use it, tough guy.”
“Prove it,” he challenged with a leer, stalking her like a lion.
“You’ll have to catch me first!”
Bolting, she took off with a shriek, her lover giving chase.
It was a footrace she had no intention of winning.
Twelve
“Daayam, you are the best-looking woman I’veever seen!” “Shut up, Willis.” Glaring over Emma’s shoulder, Ozzie scowled at the other agent, who hadn’t stopped hooting like an owl for the past fifteen minutes. “Wanna trade places? I hear being a girl is kinda natural for you.”
“Not as natural as it is for you, obviously.”
“Aw, sweetheart, no need to be testy,” Blaze drawled. Ozzie was pretty funny when he was flustered, and watching Emma do his makeup while he glared — looking eerily fabulous as a woman — was pretty damned hilarious. “Having a pretty face is a good thing, right?” Reaching out, he squeezed one of Ozzie’s fake boobs. “Unless this is too much for your manly ego?”
Ozzie smacked his hand away. “I’ve got your manly hangin’ right here, buddy. Anytime you want to compare with a ruler and come up short, you just say the word.”
Emma rolled her eyes, dabbing at Ozzie’s lips with some gloss. “Jeez, everybody’s so weird this morning. Didn’t you guys get any coffee?”
“Must be the lack of coffee,” Willis put in with a chuckle. “ ’Cause it sure ain’t the pussy.”
Willis and Ozzie thought that was funny, and Blaze couldn’t resist joining the laughter. Those two were a never-ending source of entertainment.
Emma turned bright red and muttered, “I have a hard time believing either of you is getting any, no matter how you’re dressed,” she flung at Willis.
“Ouch!” Ozzie winced. “She scores.”
“Have you heard from Bastian this morning?” Willis asked Blaze, thankfully changing the subject.
“About an hour ago, right before you got here. Good news — they’re starting to think Michael will pull through.”
“Christ, that’s a freakin’ miracle,” Ozzie breathed, serious for once. “I mean, three rounds to the chest and abdomen at point-blank range…”
“No shit. He’s just lucky the hit man didn’t take time to aim between his eyes.” A torso made for a lot easier target on the fly. Blaze shuddered at the memory and pushed it aside. “There’s more news, too. They finally ID’d the assailant, one Arthur Lee Burns, an enforcer for the Liberation group. Like the others we captured, he claims no knowledge of where they’re keeping the weapon, but he named a few names. Guess who was on the list?”
“Augustine Kosta?” Ozzie guessed.
Blaze shot an imaginary gun at him. “Correct. And Major Fontaine.”
“Cool. Nothing about the others in Kosta’s band of merry investors?”
“Nope, not a word.”
“Well, it’s something, anyway. At least their names are more than just ‘under suspicion’ now.”
“Right. And if all goes as planned, we’ll soon have some solid evidence of exactly what’s going on and where Dietz and that fucking weapon are hiding.” Blaze continued to observe Emma work and was highly impressed with how easily she transformed a person into someone else.
“Your turn,” she said, straightening to smile at her lover. “Ever wonder what you’d look like thirty years from now? Well, you’re about to find out.”
“Do I have to? That’s not something I have a desire to know just yet,” he said, only half joking.
“Yep. Pull up your big boy pants and get over it. Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He liked the way her eyes twinkled at him merrily when he gave in to her order without more complaint. Sometimes a man’s survival depended on knowing when to shut up an
d do what his woman said.
He switched places with Ozzie, taking the stool at the makeup station she’d set up in their master bathroom. She tilted his face up and started to work, her cute face scrunching in concentration as she smoothed and dabbed, spreading God-knows-what sort of crap on his face for so long he thought he’d get a crick in his neck.
“Dang,” Ozzie said in amazement. “Wait until you see yourself.”
Blaze tried to turn his head to peek in the mirror, but she stopped him. “Not yet! Now for your hair.”
“Don’t cut—”
“I know, I know. I’m not going to cut it, I promise.”
“Okay.” As she dug in a plastic tote on the floor he could feel the unspoken question hanging between them. She still wanted to know what his deal was, and their two friends were regarding him curiously. Suddenly, for the first time in years, it felt right to confide in friends. Safe.
Clearing his throat, he heard himself say, “When I was seventeen, my father came home early and found me on my knees, servicing his best friend’s son. The guy was three years older than me and dominant. He had a good grip on my shoulder-length hair and was rather enthusiastically telling me how much he loved holding on to it while he fucked my mouth.”
Emma stood up straight, a wig in hand. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah. I’ll never forget the shock and then hatred on my father’s face when he stared at me, seething with rage. Here I was, this young, hot-blooded kid trying to figure out his sexuality, and I didn’t believe I’d done anything wrong. My father thought differently and sought to show me the error of my sinful ways.”
“What did he do, honey?” Emma stepped close and laid a hand on his shoulder. Ozzie and Willis remained silent.
“He beat the hell out of me, and while I lay there damned near unconscious, he left and returned with a pair of shears,” he said quietly. “Cut off every single strand, down to the scalp, and said, ‘Let the bastard hang on to that.’ I still have the scars on my head, which is the practical reason I don’t wear it short. The other is pure rebellion.”
Without a word, Emma hugged him and rested her cheek on his head. For once, Ozzie had nothing smart-assed to say. Blaze had always thought he’d feel too ashamed to tell the story, but instead he felt liberated.
