by Mia Madison
With no more warning than that, his hand burrows into my hair, and the next moment his mouth claims mine in a searing kiss. It’s not out of control — this is Cameron, after all — but he’s not holding back on the intensity.
When I moan into his mouth, his hand tightens in my hair just to the point of pain. It makes me moan again, louder this time. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts me so I’m straddling him, then starts to work the button on my pants with his free hand.
I catch on fast and help, and in seconds I’m naked from the waist down. Exhilaration sings through my veins. We’re going to fuck, right here in his study. Yes.
But when I reach for his zipper, he breaks the kiss and lifts me. “What?” I say, startled, as I rise through the air. So easily, as if I weigh nothing.
Cameron doesn’t answer. He stops when my upper body is almost against the wall … and lowers me until I’m sitting on his upturned face.
His arm locks around my waist, holding me there. His mouth … “Oh god. Cam!”
I brace my hands against the wall and manage to hook my legs over the outer edges of the chair, so I’m not doing the splits. And then I hang on for dear life while he sends me to paradise.
Lips and tongue and teeth devour me like I’m the only food on earth, and if he doesn’t have me he’ll die. He licks me open, sucks my folds, circles my opening, fucks me with his tongue.
“Oh fuck, oh god, fuck.” Pleasure is racing along my nerve endings, igniting them like a wildfire raging out of control. He eats his way toward my clit, then teases me with his tongue, circling my swollen tip until I’m shamelessly grinding myself against him.
When his free hand slides up the back of my thigh to stroke over my ass, it’s just another layer of sensation. Until he strikes, one quick smack, at the same instant as he sucks my clit into his mouth.
“Oh fuck!” He doesn’t stop, spanking me as he sucks, hand and mouth perfectly synchronized, and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Pleasure gathers and swells and tightens in my center, ramping up so fast that my system goes screaming to the edge of release in seconds.
He spanks me harder, until I’m gasping and sobbing for breath, ready to explode, all the pressure in my core coiled like a tightly-packed bomb. Then he uses his teeth on me, and I come ten times harder than I ever have in my life.
I scream out loud then. No words, just a torrent of overwhelming pleasure ripping through my body and finding any outlet it can. I writhe against him as wave after wave of ecstasy turns me inside out.
And every time my hips jerk, the muscles in my ass contract, and a shock of pain shoots straight to my clit, setting me off again. Not only am I coming harder than I ever dreamed possible, I can’t stop. I’m on an endless orgasmic loop.
Cameron seems to know just when to give my clit a few seconds’ respite before he sends me over again. By the time he finally stops, easing me down his body, I’m wrung out, but at the same time content and amazingly energized.
He tucks me against him, and I cuddle blissfully against his chest for a few minutes. “Better?” he says at last.
“Oh my god.” My voice is hoarse. “That was a fucking revelation. Pardon my language.”
“No apologies necessary.” If I’m not mistaken, he sounds rather smug. And rightfully so. “You can say whatever you want when it’s just the two of us.”
Now that my brain is starting to function again, I have one very important question. “Not to be pushy, but when is it your turn?”
“I’m waiting. In the last week, I haven’t even touched myself — like you did in your bed that first night.”
At that, I jerk back from him. “You watched me?”
Cam grins. It’s another revelation; it makes him look both years younger and totally wicked. “No. It was an educated guess.”
I blush. “Good guess.” After he left me and I got into bed, I found myself so wet and horny that I had to rub one out. “So … you’re saving yourself for me?”
He draws me back to him with a hand curled around the back of my neck. “When I fuck you, Haley, you won’t be walking afterward. Not for a while.”
A shudder of anticipation runs through my body. “Cam,” I groan, and then tense. It’s the first time I’ve called him that out loud; I’m not sure if he minds.
But he doesn’t object, and I relax, snuggling close again. “Any idea when this blessed event will take place?”
“Hmm,” he says, sounding amused. “I think—”
And that’s when all hell breaks loose.
6
Incursion
An alarm goes off. I’m up in a flash, striding to the panel on the wall. My gut tightens at what I see there.
“I’m locking you in,” I snap at Haley. “This room is secure. Don’t try to leave it. Do you understand me?”
She nods, eyes wide. There’s no time to reassure her. I’m out the door, locking it, and running through the house, wiping my face with a handkerchief as I go.
The Jamesons, Nora and Robert, meet me in the front hall. Both of them are ex-military and cool under pressure. They’ve been civilians for decades, but some lessons you never forget.
Neither of them comments on my disheveled appearance. “Four of them,” Robert says succinctly. “Police and backup security are already on the way but they’ll be too late.”
We move as he speaks. Moments later, we’ve reached the weapons cache and all of us are armed. “Miss Morgan?” Nora asks.
“I locked her in the study. There’s an excellent chance that she’s the target. No matter what, they don’t get near her.”
“Yes, sir.”
An explosion sounds from the front of the house. All my beautiful windows are made from the latest high-tech materials. They’ll withstand hand grenades and bullets; I hope the intruders haven’t brought a rocket launcher.
It’s unlikely. They’re no doubt hoping for a quick raid and no bloodshed, but they’re in for a rude surprise.
We all move to take position. Mrs. J heads for the study, which is in the center of the house with a short hallway its only point of access. If the worst happens and the attackers get past Robert and me, she’ll keep them from reaching Haley.
But I’ve no intention of letting things go that far.
The would-be invaders have followed up their hand grenade to the front door with gunfire. The glass cracks, but holds, as it’s designed to do. The security system has triple redundancies built in; there’s no way to disable it from the outside. Cut the wires, and the backup system automatically comes online.
Which means the men outside are in the harsh glare of floodlights, every detail of their appearance and their gear easily visible. I’ve never seen any of them before, but by morning I’ll know everything there is to know about them.
There’s a narrow side panel built into one of the windows, specially equipped to let me fire outside without actually opening the window. I’m wearing a headset with a mic that I keep with the weapons. It’s tied into the security system, which includes speakers and highly sensitive microphones hidden outside in strategic locations.
I’ve never needed to use it before. Working the end of my weapon through the aperture designed for it, I aim a burst of semi-automatic gunfire near their feet. They leap back, but they’re smart enough not to return fire. They’ve figured out that these windows don’t care about bullets.
Now it’s Robert’s turn. I wait to see what he’ll do. A moment later, I have my answer.
The men are wearing military vests to stow weapons and gear in, their fronts lined with pockets that close with fold-down velcroed flaps. The top of the far left flap on one of the vests suddenly splits open.
Then the same thing happens on the same spot on the next vest, and the next, until all four have been hit in the exact same spot. It’s a brilliant bit of precision shooting, by a long-range rifle with a laser scope, and these men are experienced enough to know exactly what they’ve just experienced.<
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So when I say into the mic, “Turn around and throw your weapons away,” all four obey instantly. “Now your vests. Face down, hands on your heads. Don’t move.”
If any of the now-prone men has second thoughts, and tries to get up or crawl away, I’ll aim another burst well over their heads. The police will be here soon to handle things officially. No point injuring their future suspects; it’d just complicate matters.
But it’s the first time anyone’s ever come onto my property with malicious intent and I’m not the least bit calm about it. Just before the cops took the men away, I ask for, and am granted, thirty seconds of private conversation with the man I judge to be the team leader.
He’s in his forties, with the jaded demeanor of mercenaries everywhere. “Did your employer tell you I was a soft target?” I ask.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“If he did — or they did — they lied. If you have to choose between making an enemy of me or of them, pick them.”
His expression doesn’t change, but he doesn’t tell me to get lost either. I wait a beat to let him think about it. “This is your one and only shot at getting on my good side. Once they drive you out of here, there’ll be no do-overs.”
The man’s eyes narrow to slits. “They said you’re a money man.” Implication: a pushover.
“True enough.” And that’s all he needs to know. I also understand that I’m a civilian, so normally he’d just tell me to fuck off.
I could ask the Jamesons to talk to him, but I can’t trust this to anyone but myself. Which means I’ve got to use what leverage I can. “I’m also the man who’s going to decide whether to press charges, and believe me when I say no matter how many resources your employer can throw at defending you, I can throw more at making those charges stick.”
That gets his attention, but he still doesn’t speak. “Tell me your assignment,” I prompt. No answer. “You have five seconds.” The cops are heading our way. “Four.”
“The job was to extract an asset and hand it over.”
“What kind of asset?”
“The human kind.”
It doesn’t absolutely confirm that Haley was the target, but abductions for ransom are rare in the US these days, because the FBI has gotten very good at catching kidnappers. So it’s not likely that anyone would risk going after me for my money.
Hardly anyone knows about my extracurricular activities, so retribution on that score is also unlikely. Haley, on the other hand, could be very useful if someone wanted a hostage as leverage against her father.
Five minutes later, the police cars pull away with their prisoners inside. An hour after that, my security team has done a full check of the grounds. The system worked exactly as it was supposed to; I live in a home, not a fortress, and I’m not going to build twenty-foot-high electrified walls to keep the world out.
Everyone is safe, which is what matters. I asked Mrs. J to tell Haley that I’d be with her as soon as I could. I have one last task before I go to her.
I dial Haley’s father on my cell. He answers on the second ring. “Cameron. Is Haley all right?”
“She’s fine. A mercenary team came onto my property tonight to abduct her. They failed.”
He makes an almost inhuman sound. “I’ll move her. I’ll send an armed escort—”
“The fuck you will,” I snarl. “They’d be picked off on the road. She’s safe with me; it’s why you sent her here.”
I still have the taste of her in my mouth. It awakens something savage, primitive, inside me. “But you are damn sure going to tell me exactly what the fuck you’re mixed up in.”
“I can’t talk about it on the phone.”
“There are secure lines. Set it up.”
“Cameron—”
“Don’t expect me to work blind, Peter. I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.” The truth is, I could find out without him telling me, but it’s faster this way.
And I want him to squirm. Whatever he’s done, it’s put Haley in danger. He deserves every ounce of guilt that’s wracking him right now.
His phone call to alert me that she was about to arrive at my house — strategically timed after she was already on the ground and en route to my home — made me angry enough that I almost said no. The fear and desperation in his voice were what stopped me from sending her back.
I’m counting on that now. He’ll tell me the truth because he wants Haley safe. And I’ll use whatever means necessary to ensure she stays that way.
7
Deep Piney Woods
When the door to the study gives the little snick that means it’s unlocked, I stay where I am in the armchair. The last time that happened, I jumped up, ready to fling myself into Cameron’s arms, but it was Mrs. Jameson instead. Fortunately, I had my clothes back on by then.
She told me he’d be with me soon, but that was an hour ago. I tried the door after she left, but she’d locked it again. And she wouldn’t tell me what was going on.
I’m without my cell phone, which is in my room upstairs, and there’s no computer in here. I have no way to learn anything from, or about, the outside world, or even to try to pass the time. There are plenty of books, but I’m too keyed up to read.
So I’ve been pacing, mostly, and trying to keep my imagination from running wild and inventing all sorts of awful scenarios. Someone must have gotten into the house, or why would I be shut in here?
Into the house means onto the grounds. And his estate is extensive, with no open borders. It’s not like someone could casually, let alone accidentally, wander onto Cameron’s property.
I’m half sick with worry despite my efforts to stay calm. So when the door unlocks, I fling myself into an armchair and sit there, straight-backed, hands folded in my lap, the very picture of a proper nervous wreck.
Cameron comes in, takes one look at me, and holds out his arms. I hurl myself at him and hold on, like he’s my long-lost love whom I haven’t seen in decades. His strong, solid warmth makes me feel better immediately, my anxiety ebbing away within seconds.
“Everything’s all right now.” He rubs my back soothingly. “I have some work to do, but I’ll see you again when that’s done.”
When he tries to detach us, I lock my arms around him. “Please. Can’t I stay with you? I promise I won’t be any bother.”
He draws back a little and looks down at me with a half-smile. “Your father told me that when he phoned to say you were coming. That you were a good girl, and wouldn’t be any bother.”
I feel myself blushing. “Um …”
The backs of his fingers stroke my cheek. “You bother me a great deal, Haley Morgan. And I don’t regret it.”
Burrowing into him again, I hold on tight, letting touch renew my plea. After a long moment, he kisses the top of my head and sets me gently away from him, but before I can beg, he closes the study door, shutting us both inside.
Yes. I follow him to his desk, standing off to one side as he seats himself behind it. He touches a button I can’t even see, and the top of his desk — that I thought was solid wood — turns transparent and becomes an enormous computer monitor.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. A keyboard slides out from where the center drawer should be, and Cam goes to work, his fingers flying over the keys while he stares intently at the screen.
I can’t see what he’s doing from this angle, but when I take a step closer, he turns his head my way, just a little, but the warning is clear. Retreating to my former position, I will myself to be a good, quiet, obedient girl.
A few minutes later, without stopping his work, he says, “You’re practically vibrating with all the things you’re not saying.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Pick one and ask me. Choose wisely.”
“Isn’t it uncomfortable, having your head bent down like that?”
He looks at me then. “Out of all the things you’re wondering about, that’s the one you pick?”
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�I’m worried you’re going to get a stiff neck.”
His mouth twitches. “Come here.” When I get close, I try to sneak a peek at the monitor, but he moves me around to straddle him so my back is to the desk.
“You have a very inquisitive nature, Haley Morgan.”
“I can’t help it.”
“What’s your major in college?”
“Biology.”
He smiles. “Pre-med?”
“Maybe, but I’m more interested in bioethics.”
“Ah. A very timely and important topic.” He tugs my head gently down. The kiss, so unlike the previous fierce claiming, shimmers through me on gossamer wings.
I keep my mouth a hair’s breadth from his. “Is this your way of telling me not to worry about your neck?”
“It’s my way of thanking you for worrying about my neck.” He kisses me again, and there’s a flash of heat before he draws back. “I don’t work here for very long at a time; I have another office with a regular computer setup. But this one is … secure.”
Would Cameron Thorne have any computer that wasn’t locked down from outside interference? “You mean extra secure. For research you want to be extra sure no one knows about.”
He smiles again. “Very inquisitive, and very clever. Do you feel ready to go to bed yet?”
“Are you going to join me there?”
“If I join you, we won’t sleep.”
“That’s the idea.”
“I want to be well rested when that moment arrives.” His fingers sift through my hair. “Well rested … and undistracted.”
This time the kiss turns hungry on both sides, our tongues tangling, dueling, until Cameron reluctantly ends it. “You bespell me,” he says softly.
I smile at him. “Bioethics, not witchcraft.”
He shakes his head. “You need no training. It’s a natural gift.” With a squeeze of my hip, he helps me up. “Go to bed, Haley. I’ll finish sooner, knowing you’re safely in your room.”
“Since you put it that way.” I already miss his touch, want to be back in his arms, but if going to bed will help him, then that’s what I’ll do. “Good night, Cam.”
