by Tara Quan
He switched to the curve of her neck and left another. “I’m a possessive man. I like to remind you you’re mine.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. “How can you be sure I am?”
He caught her nipple and twisted. Another blow landed against her bottom. It was intense enough to burn for a few seconds after. “Any other smart comments?”
When she shook her head, he inserted his hand between her thighs and forced them farther apart. “Marcus—”
“No more talking.” Without warning, he penetrated her with a finger. She cried out at the sudden intrusion even as moisture gathered to ease his entry. He nudged her shoulder and turned her slightly to the side.
Realizing what he had in mind, she fought against the urge to moan in anticipation. “Why are you doing this?”
A second finger entered her. At the same time, the pad of his palm circled her clit. Even without direct contact, the stimulation nearly made her knees buckle.
Another blow landed against her bottom. “Because it turns you on. I need to make sure you’re ready.”
He was right. She didn’t know why his treatment had this effect. Perhaps it was because it made her feel utterly helpless. He was in charge; he controlled her pleasure. All she could do was close her eyes and feel. It hadn’t taken Marcus long to discover the arousing effect restraints and a modicum of pain had on her, and he had been eager to test her limits. It didn’t hurt that tying her up often triggered an instant erection on his part.
His fingers pumped as he spanked her again and again. Her bottom burned at the point of impact. Just when she was about to protest the treatment, he switched to the other cheek. Her body responded by coating his fingers in moisture. Her breasts felt tight. Her nipples throbbed. Her pants echoed in the cottage.
Heat gathered as he intensified the dual stimulation. Desire coiled and wound tighter with each lance of pleasure and pain. When she closed her eyes, all she saw was white. Release was just within reach.
He pulled his fingers out and lowered her until her knees hit the floor. Frustrated, she opened her eyes to glare at him. What she saw was the head of his engorged shaft. Moisture beaded over the very tip.
His hand fisted in her hair. “Open your mouth.”
Dazed, she complied. He shoved his erection past her lips but stopped once he was barely an inch inside. “You know what to do.”
She circled her tongue and savored the salty taste. When she’d licked it clean, he pulled out. Still facing her, he knelt. His hands shifted from her nape to cup both her shoulders.
He bent down and closed his lips over her nipple. She whimpered and arched her back into the assault. His teeth grazed her vulnerable flesh. When he bit down, her choked moan filled the small room. Forgetting the cuffs, she tried to move her arms apart and failed.
He switched to torment her other breast. His hands slid along her body to rest at the sides of her hips. “I think you’re wet enough for us to try something new.”
A blush warmed her face. Before she had time to fully understand what he meant, he turned her around and pulled her onto his lap. His arousal burned against her throbbing bottom.
The position emphasized their difference in size. He completely surrounded her with his much larger body. His chest muscles rippled against her back. His shoulders were twice as broad as hers. His arms were longer, thicker, and stronger. His hands could engulf hers with alarming ease. She wondered how she had ever thought she could take him on.
He circled her waist and tipped her forward. Her back arched. The tips of her breasts hovered a few inches above the floor. She braced herself with her bound arms while he held her in place. There was no question who was in charge.
Chapter 11
Marcus gritted his teeth. He was determined to draw this out, but just seeing her like this threatened to make him come. Her hands were cuffed, and her upper arms pressed her breasts together. Even fighting gravity, the rose-tipped globes remained pert and hung close to her body. From this vantage point, her waist appeared tiny.
Dampened with sweat, her mane of red hair clung to her creamy neck and shoulders. The remaining tendrils fell to curtain the sides of her face. Her abused bottom was an alluring shade of pink.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured as he positioned himself against her slick wet opening.
When his engorged head probed her slit, she whimpered. “I think there’s a reason we never tried this angle before.”
It was a good thing she couldn’t see his smirk. “You’re little. I’m big. It takes some practice.”
He shifted farther into her and stopped the moment she cried out. She was tighter than he imagined. “Marcus…”
He moved one hand between her thighs and searched for her clit. When he found the bundle of nerves hidden under her soft wet folds, he flicked it lightly with the tip of his finger. Her hips jerked back, taking him a quarter inch deeper.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. It took all his control not to bury himself to the hilt. “Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me what you want.”
Her inner muscles gripped the tip of his shaft—the sensation fed his instinct to drive into her. “You know what I want you to do.” Her voice was laced with embarrassment and frustration. She had always been shy in bed.
“I want to hear you say it.”
An eternity of silence seemed to pass before she whispered, “Please…do it again.”
He dug his fingers into her waist. “Do what again?”
“Touch me.” When he didn’t move, she bit out, “Touch my clit.”
“Good girl.” He circled the pad of his finger over the tightening nub. High-pitched sounds escaped her throat as moisture coated his shaft. The temptation to thrust was overwhelming, but he resisted. If she wanted more, she would have to beg. He pressed harder and moved his hand faster, certain it was a matter of time before she broke.
She spread her thighs wider and tried to push back against him. His hold on her waist kept her in place. She shimmied her bottom, and the sensation made every muscle in his body draw taut. Still, he refused to give her what she wanted.
By the time she surrendered, his entire body was coated in sweat. “Marcus…please…I want you inside me.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. It was a tight fit, but her channel was now slick and wet. He eased into her inch by torturous inch until her bottom flattened against his groin. Her moans, her harsh panting breaths, her sweat-slicked skin—they combined to bring him to a fevered high.
He circled her waist so he could anchor her with both hands. He pulled out before thrusting hard into her yielding body. When she didn’t protest, he repeated the motion.
Her breasts weaved in the air with each impact. Muffled cries escaped her lips, synchronizing with his unrelenting rhythm. With his fingers spanning her abdomen, he could feel her muscles drawing taut. On the cusp of madness, he continued to thrust fast and deep. Only when he could feel the telltale flutter as her silken sheath clenched around him, only after he felt her entire body spasm and turn limp in his hold, did he allow his control to snap. Pumping his hips, he embraced hot white oblivion and sought his own release.
* * * *
“I want to talk to the person in charge,” Red declared as she pulled on her jeans. Her newly washed hair was damp, and she smelled of lavender and mint. She pulled on a maroon hoodie over her almost see-through white T-shirt.
Marcus followed her out of the bathroom. After close to an hour of strenuous physical activity, a cold bath had been necessary. He dug through the duffel he had left by the door and pulled out a long-sleeve black jersey that matched his dark jeans. As much as he would like to repeat what they just did, time was running out. He had a job to do. “I’m the person in charge.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “I was referring to the man you reported to last night—the other shadow I saw inside this cottage before you caught me.”
&nb
sp; He glared at her once he was completely dressed. Judging from the way her eyes darted away, the wheels in Red’s brain were already churning in the wrong direction. It scared the shit out of him. Her risk calculations were always a tad unbalanced. “I outrank Dane. I’m the one calling the shots.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure you are.” When he scowled at her, she elaborated. “You’re a scout. Those men I’ve been following are soldiers. Rank or no rank, fighters follow other fighters. I’ll help you, but I won’t tell you anything useful until you get the person who’s actually in charge to talk to me.”
For someone who didn’t know the FMA existed, Red had a surprisingly astute understanding of Marcus’ placement in the pecking order. The WOLF was composed of Interior Division operatives. When push came to shove, the men would follow Dane’s lead. They’d trained with him, knew him, and respected him. An agent from Covert Affairs was an unwelcome intruder regardless of rank.
He and Red had a standoff. Though every instinct advised him otherwise, Marcus dug out his radio. He needed to treat her as an asset, and this wasn’t an outrageous request.
Not long after he’d barked out Dane’s call sign, the cottage door crashed open. The man must have been hovering within walking distance.
“It’s about fucking time,” the agent muttered. “Another half an hour, and I would have interrupted your little makeout session.”
It occurred to Marcus all FMA-issued rifles came equipped with infrared scopes. Hopefully, Dane hadn’t been watching the cottage the entire time.
Marcus turned to Red, whose face had turned an adorable shade of pink. “I’ve gotten what you wanted.” After taking a calming breath, he reluctantly admitted, “Dane’s the agent in charge. You can present your demands to him. Now start talking.”
She cleared her throat and regained composure with remarkable speed. “Why don’t you tell me what you plan to do with the army of city slickers you’ve positioned in the woods?”
Marcus and Dane glanced at each other. Dane wasn’t the trusting sort, and his reluctance couldn’t be clearer.
Red reached over and waved her hand between them. “You two can’t be serious. I’m your prisoner. Your plan is to invade in a matter of hours. How do you think I’ll escape, and what can I accomplish even if I did?”
Dane turned to face her. “Why do you want to know our plan?”
Her grin was impish. “So I can tell you how stupid it is. Fine, why don’t I just guess?”
Marcus resisted the urge to massage his temples. When the mood struck, the woman took being a smart-ass to a whole new level of annoying. He found her amusing, but Dane came from much stuffier stock.
In rapid-fire succession, Red rattled off an alarmingly accurate description of what he and Dane had decided on thus far—a nighttime attack, an initial wave of assault using infiltration specialists and grappling hooks, localized explosives at three select entry points, and a targeted elimination of WITCH members carrying firearms.
It was such a good guess Dane turned to level a glare at Marcus. “Damn it. I didn’t think you would be so susceptible to sexpionage. What the hell were you thinking?”
Red snorted. “No offense, but I didn’t need to sleep with the man to figure that out. Your plan is the exact scenario the WITCH has been preparing for since Mother Gothel was killed. After all, it’s the most logical infiltration strategy. Grandmother might be a bit unhinged, but she’s more intelligent than the two of you combined.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “Grandmother? Please tell me that’s just a title.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Who would come up with such a crazy moniker? I thought you had guessed I was connected to the WITCH’s leadership.”
He fought for patience. “The fact that you had been beaten half to death when we first met prevented me from concluding you had a familial connection to the person in charge.”
She shrugged. “Eleanor happens to be my mother’s mother. Trust me, it makes her treat me worse, not better. Now, why don’t we focus on your idiotic plan?”
Dane’s chuckle drew both their attentions. “I have to admit, Woodsman, I see the attraction. This kid reminds me of your mother.”
Marcus choked on his own saliva. “Please never say that again.” He turned to face Red. “Why don’t you tell me what’s so wrong with our plan?”
She snorted. “Besides being predictable? Gee, let me think.” She counted off on her fingers as she spoke. “We have an army of patrols along the walls. I don’t care how stealthy you think your soldiers are—if they rappel in, they’re bound to raise an alarm. There are explosives stockpiled at every point of entry. If you set off bombs, you’re going to get a much bigger bang than you expect. That explosion will get everyone’s attention. The children are segregated into classes spread throughout the compound. Their caretakers have orders to kill them all the moment there is even a hint of trouble. Some may not follow through, but a good number will. In short, if you go in the way Grandmother expects you to, all you’ll be getting are dead bodies.”
Marcus frowned. He didn’t want to admit it, but the countermeasures were diabolical. It was an organization-level equivalent of a suicide vest. Red’s grandmother didn’t care if no one survived the onslaught. He and Dane lacked the same luxury.
Dane directed his next words at Marcus. “What about a surgical strike to take out their leader? If we go in ourselves, there’s a good chance—”
“Grandmother’s quarters overlook the courtyard. If she doesn’t appear at her window during specific intervals, her personal guard has orders to kill everyone before blowing up the entire compound. The timing changes daily, and I don’t have the schedule.”
Dane glared at Marcus. “She has to be making this up. No one’s that crazy.”
“I might be,” Red interjected, “but can you take the chance? From my deduction, your risk tolerance is much lower than mine.”
Marcus clenched his hands into fists. He could always tell when she was lying. This moment wasn’t one of them. At the very least, she believed what she said to be true. She was also one of the few people on the planet whose judgment he trusted without question. “Cut to the chase. You clearly have a plan in mind.” He tipped his head in Dane’s direction. “Since you insisted he come here, I’m pretty sure it’s not one I’ll like.”
Confirming his suspicion, Red turned so she was only facing Dane. “Tell me, do you need his approval? He’s going to get emotional, and I need you to knock some sense into him.”
Marcus heard an odd sound. It took a moment before he realized he had ground his teeth together. “I’m standing right here. You realize that, right?”
Dane looked more amused than concerned. “I’ve decided you need to keep her. You also need to invite me to your mom’s next Thanksgiving dinner. I’d love to watch the both of them in action.”
His friend’s sense of humor had a way of presenting itself at the least appropriate moments.
Addressing Dane, Marcus barked, “When we get back to the city, remind me to kill you.” He then grabbed Red’s shoulders and forcibly turned her to face him. “Listen, I’m the one you need to convince. I won’t care what he says. If I don’t have warm fuzzy feelings about your safety, I’m going to tie you up for the duration of this operation.”
Dane cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if that statement’s entirely accurate. For one, I can always call your boss and have her knock some sense into you. Why don’t we hear the girl out? We are, after all, almost in the twenty-second century and not the Stone Age. You can do your impression of Conan the Barbarian later.”
Baring his teeth, Marcus sent his friend a warning look.
Dane raised both hands. “I’m not deciding anything. I just want to hear what she has to say.”
Red nudged Marcus’ chest with her fist. “You’re overreacting. You don’t even know what I’m about to propose.”
He glared at her. “I know you. That’s more than enough.”
Ignoring him, she twisted her neck to face Dane. “There’s a tunnel that leads into the WITCH. It’s rigged with a single unpinned grenade positioned to collapse the entire structure. If the two posted guards so much as sense something fishy, they’ll cut the string holding the explosive in place and kill everyone inside.”
Dane arched his eyebrows. “I can only assume you are capable of disarming it.”
She nodded. “It’ll only work if you let me go in alone. I can take the trap out of the equation before presenting myself to the guards. If you give me a thirty-minute head start, they won’t suspect a thing.”
“Why can’t you just come back out after disarming the grenade?” Marcus asked.
She continued to look directly at Dane. It wasn’t a good sign. “There’s a pressure plate at the entry point, and I can only deactivate it after triggering a signal. If I don’t pop out the other end soon after, it’ll raise all sorts of alarm bells. Besides, the tunnel is just a safe way in. It doesn’t deal with all the other countermeasures my grandmother has put in place.”
Dane crossed his arms. The agent was at least trained well enough to realize he was about to be presented with an option he didn’t like. “What happens after you get in?”
Marcus saw Red’s hands clenching and unclenching. She was nervous. He would also bet good money she was afraid. None of it showed on her face. “I’ll be taken to Grandmother for punishment. I was supposed to capture one of you and will obviously be returning empty-handed.”
“You don’t have to,” Marcus countered. “Take me prisoner.”
Red gave no indication she had heard a word he’d said. “Failing this mission had always been part of the plan. Grandmother knows you’re closing in. She knows it’s a matter of time before the power she has accumulated over the years goes up in smoke. She sent me on a mission with no hope of success so she can use my failure as an excuse for a public execution. She would want to make my mother watch me die while she still has the chance. We’re counting on it.”
Marcus glanced at Dane. “Aside from confirming your grandmother is a psychopath, how does this help us?”
