She moaned into my mouth, and I took her sounds. Her hands were at my shirt hem now and she pulled my shirt up and off as well. Her fingers danced over the planes of my stomach, and I lowered my head to take one of those hard peaks between my lips.
She gasped and threaded her fingers in through my hair. And while she was reveling in that, my hand found its way down the waist of her pants and slipped inside.
She was incredible. Her taste, her skin, her sounds, every one of them worked at me and plucked at the sudden raging desire that burned between us.
I wanted to devour every part of her at once and then come back and make her scream my name.
Then I realized screaming my name was a bad idea.
Well, then harshly whisper it in my ear as my cock drove into her and slung over the edge of ecstasy.
Slipping a finger into her cleft, her clit was waiting for me. My finger slid easily over her, and she arched back on the bed, pulling my lips off her nipple.
I heard a small whimper from myself as I felt the loss quite acutely. The whimper suddenly turned into a groan as her fingers found their way to my painful erection and wrapped around me.
“Oh, hell,” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
She looked at me as I lay there waiting for her breast to come back into sucking range.
“I don’t have a condom…”
Shit. “Neither do I…” I glanced at the magnificence of her pale, creamy tits and shrugged. “Hand jobs it is.”
She giggled, but it quickly turned into a moan when I pushed two fingers inside her. Her fingers in my hair grew tight, and she gripped my cock even harder.
I leaned forward to recapture one of those delicious breasts. “Not that I have a problem with that, really.”
Her finger smoothed the drop of moisture from the tip of my shaft, and she used it as lubrication for her fist. “Maybe shut up and finger fuck me, Vaughn.”
Oh, I liked that. Both my name from her lips like that and the suggestion. She didn’t hesitate to start moving her hand over me with purpose and determination. It felt just as amazing as the shower, except now, instead of just feeling those breasts pressed into me, I had full access to them.
And I was way, way more clear-headed.
Her hand never lost its rhythm gliding over me. No matter how my fingers danced over her clit or twisted in her channel.
Pulling my lips away from her breast, I pressed them back to her lips, and trailed light kisses down her jaw. “God, you feel so good…you sure there’s no condoms in that giant go-bag?”
Her whole body trembled lightly with her laugh. “It’s a go-bag, Vaughn. Not a go-get-laid bag.”
Bridget trembled again, but not with laughter. I nibbled on the shell of her ear while my fingers traced the edges of her entrance, and my thumb tapped out some unknown rhythm on her clit.
Her hand joined the other at my erection, but instead of finding the hard shaft, she cupped my sac and played there. My balls were drawn up so tight, I knew my orgasm wasn’t that far off.
Between the soft, sweet feel of her naked breasts and the firm grip on my cock, I was set. With the look on Bridget’s face—her eyes closed and lashes fluttering, a deep blush on her skin—I knew she wasn’t far behind me.
The little squeaks and moans she was letting out quietly were better than any shout she might have screamed. I captured her mouth again to taste that pleasure.
“Coming, Birdie?” I asked.
“Oh, fuck yes,” she breathed. “Please say you’re almost there.”
“God, yes, baby. Your hands are amazing.”
She moved her arms at the waist of my pants to free me completely from the material, but I quickly moved the material back up. “Don’t. I don’t want to have to find fresh sheets.”
We let out a moan together. For some reason, we both found the idea of me spilling my cum in my pants totally hot. A wiggle of my fingers inside her while my thumb pressed the bundle of nerves, and a few good hard strokes on said cock from Bridget had us both tipped over the edge in mutual climax.
“Fuck,” I hissed the words in her ear as pulse after pulse of my cum shot out of me, onto her hand, into the pants. There were stars behind my eyes and sparks shooting up and down my spine.
And Bridget was not a passive part of this either. Her channel crushed my fingers in wave after wave of delighted orgasm, drenching my hand in her own cum.
It was utterly filthy. And it felt so damn good.
After kissing languidly, trying to catch our collective breath, Birdie smiled. “Damn.”
“Damn,” I agreed.
“Shower?” she asked. “Since…” She moved her hand in my pants.
I felt myself stir with her movements. That was bad. Tossing the covers back with my free hand, she was able to free herself from my clothes.
She giggled. “I need rubber gloves for you, Vaughn.”
“Been a while.”
“No, Vaughn, that was prodigious.”
“Been a long while.”
“What was last night?”
I smirked. “Just cleaning the pipes.”
She laughed and headed for the bathroom.
Topless.
Mrph.
Chapter Fourteen
Bridget
I’d quickly located the washing machine and tossed in the filthy pajamas and undergarments at the crack of dawn. I stood staring at the window of the front loader machine for a good five minutes just trying to sort my brain.
I felt better now I had told someone about what had really happened with Greg and not the awful sanitized version I’d come up with. Vaughn was right, though. I needed to talk to someone about what had happened. I didn’t know if Billings was the right person, but it was going to be a place to start.
This situation sucked, completely and all the way around. I was rusty at this fugitive shit, and I felt a bit like I was faking it. A lot like I was faking it.
Vaughn was really, really good in bed. And in the shower. And on the floor. And against the wall. And I desperately needed to buy some condoms because I need him inside me. Even though I was sure we were both disease free, there was that whole pesky pregnancy thing I wasn’t ready for.
Pretty sure I couldn’t pop into the doctor’s office and get those pills. I’d never been on prescription because there were times when I wouldn’t be able to get to a pharmacy and condoms were universal.
Now, I wasn’t going back in the field. But I also wasn’t going to wait until I could get to a doctor to finish what Vaughn and I had well started in the past two days.
Jesus, had it only been two days?
“I would have done that for you,” Fari said from the doorway.
She did actually startle me, but I didn’t jump. Walking in, she patted me on the arm. “Old habits die hard, Agent. Seriously, though, I would have washed those.”
“Er. No.”
So instead of being startled, I was going to go bright red from nose to toes. Awesome. I loved being a fair skinned Irishwoman.
Her eyebrow lifted.
“Let’s just leave it at we didn’t want to have change the sheets at three in the morning?”
“Oh. Ew.”
“Says you.” I smirked.
“Ha. First time? The two of you?”
I scratched my nose. “Can we call it a half? Three quarters?”
Fari laughed. “Shit, I missed you.”
“Same here, woman. Same here.”
Twisting her long black hair up into some kind of knot at the back of her head, she pulled on a pair of sneakers. “I’m going for a jog. Want to come?”
“On purpose? No thanks.”
We shared the chuckle. I’d once had a shirt that said Bomb Squad on the front and If You See Me Running, Keep Up. And we both knew it was the only way I’d ever, ever run.
That didn’t mean I didn’t exercise, of course, just that I didn’t get the joy in running when that had been nearly half my job for seven yea
rs.
“All right, well, I’ll be back in an hour. Miles has the beasts this morning and I think it’s his gourmet specialty for breakfast.”
“Which is?”
“Whatever you can find and put either in a bowl or a toaster.” She grinned. “I’m supposed to hear some stuff back this morning from the lower level requests I put out, so I’ll check when I get back. If you want to use the computer, the one in the big den is secure and untraceable. I programmed you and Mister Three-Quarters in last night.” She glanced at the washing machine and shook her head. “Run a rinse load after that for me, you nasty bitch.”
“Next time, I will let him splooge the sheets.” I gave her the middle finger.
She was out the door.
I fucking missed the shit out of that woman.
Staring at the laundry for a few more minutes, I finally realized I wasn’t thinking anything at all. I didn’t feel guilty about me and Vaughn, I didn’t feel guilty about Greg. I knew I was doing the right thing.
And I didn’t care that I had been dismissed.
There was no doubt I missed the job, the excitement, the sense of keeping the world safe. I always would. It just didn’t bother me that I had been dismissed because I did my job, I got my revenge, I got the drive—and the reason I was let go had nothing to do my performance, and everything to do with my tits.
There were a ton of things to think about now, but at least I could do that clearly.
Finally satisfied the washing machine was working—really, McInnis? WTF?—I headed into the kitchen.
There were two little ones in highchairs, both boys, one in red and one in stripes. I laughed as Miles tried to feed them both as the same time.
“Need a hand?”
“Oh, God, yes please,” he said.
I grabbed the one jar of baby food and plunked down next to him. “Who is who, here?”
“This is Jason,” he pointed to the twin in a red onesie, “and that is Safian. Jasmine, it seems, has taken a liking to Dylan.”
Turning to where he had nodded, I saw an adorable little black-haired girl playing trucks with the blond Dylan.
“They were fed.” He looked guilty. “Toaster strudel. I hope Vaughn doesn’t mind.”
“He’s fed, he’s not going to care.” I chuckled, spooning some of the disgusting baby mash into Safian’s happily waiting mouth. Toothless babies were the best. “We haven’t been exactly eating the best food for the past few days.”
“American take-away, ugh, take out is the worst. We need more things like donner kebabs and pitas to go.” Miles nodded, flying the food in to keep Jason entertained. “So, how are you doing this morning?”
I smiled and swept some of the extra food off the baby’s face. “I’m good. Thank you so much for giving us a place to stay and figure out what’s going on. I’m used to this, but Vaughn isn’t and Dylan has no idea what’s going on.”
“Our pleasure,” he said. “It’s insane that I knew Vaughn and you knew Farida.”
“It was, but in the best way. You’re really in on this rescue stuff?”
“It keeps the wife happy.” He smiled. “I don’t mind being the base here while she still gets to do what she loves. I’m sorry Harding was a jackass to you. If it’s any comfort, he’s a jackass to everyone. We usually don’t try to coordinate with him at all if we can help it. There are plenty of others willing to work with us.”
Jason clapped and giggled at the food airplane his father supplied with noises and because Jason was giggling, Safian started giggling.
“Well, that’s that for about ten minutes,” Miles said, sitting back. “The giggle kings will do this for a while. Let them go.”
And go they did. Just giggled back and forth at each other.
Miles folded his arms. “So. Any idea how you want to handle this?”
I shook my head. “I do not have enough information to even form a thought beyond keep ahead of them. Staying so close to Pittsburgh was stupid, but I had to get my hands on cash, and I didn’t want that trail.”
“You have money?”
“About seven k, give or take a few stops at Burger King and Mickey D’s.”
“Can you get more in a pinch?”
“Not a pinch, but I can before I run out. My brother has access to all the money, and either I or Nolan can show him how to move it.”
“Good. I can move some if you need it.”
I glanced at the basement door. “What do you think he found?”
Miles was instantly clammed up, and shook his head once. “Nothing as simple as money laundering. Not even close.”
Before he could go on, the door behind us to the basement opened and out walked one well-sated Vaughn Willard. Sex hair and all.
Miles lifted an eyebrow and slowly turned to look at me. I have him a one-shouldered shrug and partial grin. He nodded slowly. “That explains the early morning wash run.”
Vaughn shot me an accusing look and I laughed at him. “I combed my sex hair, Mister Willard.”
His eyes shot to Dylan and Jasmine, who were now ramming the trucks together. He shook his head, mostly at himself and finished the walk into the room. “Couldn’t find a comb.”
“Under the sink,” Miles and I chorused.
Vaughn
There was no comb under that sink. At least, I hadn’t been able to find it. And by the time I got out of the bathroom and back to my bag, my hair was forgotten.
Until Miles gave me the sly eye of approval.
But now came the hard part. Did I kiss her good morning? Did I kiss her cheek? Her forehead? Her lips? Did I make sure that Dylan didn’t see, or did I not worry about it because at some point, I would have started dating again anyway?
One hand job, and I was mess again.
Okay, maybe three.
I walked over to where Bridget was sitting in front of the two giggling boys and put a hand on her shoulder. She leaned back and smiled up at me.
“This is where you kiss her good morning,” Miles said, averting his eyes dramatically.
Smiling, I leaned down. “Is it?”
Bridget nodded. “It is.”
“Well then, good morning, gorgeous,” I said, and kissed her lips sweetly. I immediately wanted more, but there were four kids and another adult in the room. Controlling the sudden burst of libido, I pulled back and listened to her sigh.
“Are you done?” Miles asked loudly.
He turned and looked at us and we both gave him the middle finger.
Miles’ mother, Barbara, came over just about the time Farida jogged back into the house. She introduced herself to Dylan and sat and played with the four kids while Farida disappeared up into the big den.
Well over two hours later, Miles looked at his watch and nodded. “She’s ready for us.”
Standing he walked over to his mother. “We’ll be upstairs. Just text if you need anything.”
She pointed to the sleeping boys. “With those two out, we’re good.” She smiled at Jasmine and Dylan, who were now playing with paper dolls. Barbara, I remembered had been a kindergarten teacher, so she had a way with kids, and I didn’t feel a moment’s hesitation in leaving him in her care. Better than the monitors.
Which Farida already had fired up anyway when walked in. She grinned at me, as if she knew what I was thinking. “It’s not Barbara. It’s everyone else.”
“But we won’t turn on the alarms,” Miles said. “Turned out, Mom’s pretty bad ass with a gun.”
I choked on the air. “Sweet Mrs. Peterson?”
Fari laughed. “We had a run in with some non-locals and she went total badass on them, protecting Jasmine. Shot one of them in hip to get him away from our daughter.”
Bridget nodded. “Nice.”
“Took me a minute to get used to my mom knowing her way around a weapon, but it’s better because we always have someone around who can help us keep the place safe.”
With a few clicks on the keyboard, the television lit up and some
thing flashed across it. A graph.
A graph I recognized. “That’s the laundering graph,” I whispered, and my heart caught in my chest.
Bridget grabbed my hand. “Breathe, Vaughn. Breathe.”
I took shallow panting breaths until I felt like I could draw in more. I had not expected to have a simple image slam into me like that, and a rush of cold sweat spiked on my skin.
Still, I was able to listen even if I couldn’t quite speak yet.
“It’s not just the one you found, either. These patterns have been found at dozens of east coast companies,” Farida said. “We’ve only found it at one west coast headquarters, west of the Mississippi, anyway.”
She leaned back in the chair. “From what we can put together quickly—and holy crap, thank Victor Walsh for the access to his records—we’re pretty sure this is the ring that a few other independent agents have been chasing, and this was the last part of it.
Farida glanced at Miles and then at the two of us. “Are you ready for this?”
“No,” I answered, honestly.
“Go on,” Bridget said in a low voice.
“Preliminarily, from what Nolan, and my sources have gathered in the past ten hours, it looks like Walsh-Tyndale was just the newest stop on the drugs for guns train running in and out of the Sudan. So the whole reason they came after you, Vaughn, was that you pissed off the arms dealers who were waiting for their money to deliver the guns to the revolutionaries.”
Bridget ran a hand down her face. “I fucking knew it. I knew it.”
“Arms…arms dealers?” I choked out.
“A former associate of Vitole Abbruzzi,” Miles added.
Bridget went pale. “Oh holy fuck. Are you kidding me?” Her eyes whipped over to Farida. “This cannot be that big…”
“It totally is,” Farida said.
I put my hand in the air. “Who?”
Bridget sighed dropping her head into her hands. “Abbruzzi was a major arms dealer in Afghanistan. Corina Honora from the CIA and I were tasked to end the supply to the one camp, and we decided to go in and work backward. Follow the guns back to the source. It took us nearly six months and a lot of hot time under burkas. We found the source of the guns from Abbruzzi into the country in Nuzvat, Tajikistan.
Plain Sight Page 13
