by Piper Stone
Breaking the kiss, he immediately rolled over, taking her with him. He held her aloft as she struggled to breathe. “Not so fast, princess.”
“Oh, it’s princess now,” she murmured, slapping her palms against his chest.
“Would you prefer ice queen?” He thrust his cock inside, startled at the increased electricity.
Ashley huffed and dropped her head, allowing her long strands of hair to swipe across his chest. She pressed her knees into his sides and rocked, riding him up and down.
The sensations drove him wild, the way her pussy muscles clenched then released. He rubbed the tips of his fingers down her spine, finally cupping her bottom. The way her voluptuous breasts jiggled from her intense movement was another reason to keep his mouth watering. He was parched all over again.
He yanked her up and down, smiling as she opened her eyes wide.
In return, she grabbed his hands, yanking them over his head, the move crushing her breasts against his chest. Their lips were dangerously close, but she merely darted her tongue around his mouth.
Bucking against her, he used the power of his thigh muscles as he met every one of her hard thrusts with one of his own. He adored the way she intertwined their fingers, holding him down. Damn if he wasn’t ready to spew his load. Not yet.
Not this way.
Before he had the opportunity to retake control, she released her hold, sliding off the bed.
He was no longer amused, although he was so alive and excited that he had difficulty focusing.
But enough was enough.
Capturing her once again, this time he pushed her against the expansive window, one hand wrapped around her throat. They were both breathing heavily, steam from her breath fogging the thick glass. There was no need to say anything any longer. He kicked her legs apart, positioned his cock and thrust, the force pushing her onto her toes.
They both groaned, their breathing strangled and irregular. He kept his hand around her throat as he fucked her, skin slapping against skin as his actions remained brutal. This time, she wasn’t getting away.
He was able to see her reflection, the sublime look crossing her face. She was content, even though a crazed man was ravaging her, taking everything he desired. Then he stared at his face, the dark eyes that had seen far too much in their thirty-three years. A flash of remorse as well as anger rushed into his system, the deep emotions ones he was usually very good at hiding.
Maybe he was just hiding from the truth.
He would never have anything but one-night stands, the narrow regulations and dangerous situations far too compromising to allow closeness. This was the first time he had remorse that he hadn’t been born into a different family, one without specific bloodlines and ties to the underworld.
To the darkness.
To the ties that bind.
He closed his eyes, longing for more of her touch and the feel of her warmth surrounding him. He longed to be a different man. Maybe one day he would cease to exist, the son of a monster.
One day...
Purring, Ashley broke his ugly pattern of thoughts, her soft moans floating across his skin.
Wrath pumped harder, faster, ready to spew into her. However, he wanted more. Growling, he slid his cock to her asshole, waiting as she opened her eyes wide, her lovely fingers clawing the glass. “I told you, every part of you would be mine for the night. I always come through with my promises.”
She yelped the second he slipped his cock into her puckered hole.
This time, as he rode her, rolling onto the balls of his feet, he could tell for this brief moment, they were as one.
When he finally released, her whimpers of extreme passion were a beautiful reminder that he was very much alive.
And that perhaps he had choices...
Chapter Three
“You are one incredible woman, Ashley Harper, and perhaps we’ll meet again. If we do, you’re going to gain an absolute understanding of complete domination. Don’t forget about me, sweetheart. Save a place for me in the darkest part of your soul.”
“Mmm...” Shifting, Sophia rolled over and felt a tug on her arm. She opened her eyes slowly, wincing as she attempted to focus. Then she shot up like a bat out of hell. Or at least she attempted to do so.
What the hell?
The realization that her right wrist had been attached to the metal portion of the headboard quite frankly pissed her off.
The goddamn handcuff.
“No. No. Oh, fuck, no.” She smacked her hand on the bed, scanning the room before glaring at the shackle again, a headache hitting her right between the eyes.
It was also the not-so-subtle nudge she needed to remind her that she’d been a fucking fool. What in the hell did she think she was doing, not just having sex with a stranger, but actually spending the night in a hotel room? Then there was the spanking he’d given her. Simply shifting back and forth across the sheets was a terrible reminder of the entire event. Holy hell. There would be no saving her job now. And to think she’d awakened to words he’d said—the arrogant prick.
“Wait a minute,” she muttered out loud. Had this man, Officer Pierre Renier, actually issued the controlling statement? Okay, so there had been room service at one point and far too much red wine. Groaning, she closed her eyes briefly, just trying to remember details. First of all, she realized far too late that the jerk wasn’t the French police or any kind of law enforcement. Sure, he’d been convincing enough at first, but she should have known better.
After all, she was a decorated FBI agent, sent here on special assignment because of her accomplishments and the number of arrests she’d made during her tenure. Even her partner hadn’t been allowed to come with her, to possibly share in the glory.
Now the punishment would all belong to her.
Pierre was a conman. A common thief.
Had he thought she was nothing more than a whale, ready to take her riches? No, there had to be more to the story.
Sighing, she rubbed sleep out of her eyes, the cold chill of failure sweeping into the furthest reaches of her body.
She was on her own, the mission one of utmost importance to the United States. Capture one notorious mercenary before he managed to assassinate a prominent American businessman in town on business. Stephen Wallace was rich and very influential, the founder and CEO of the largest internet services company in the world. He also had his share of enemies, especially since the man had foiled three attempts from foreign nationals attempting to break into the United States Government database. There were even reports he’d invented a type of computer security system that was impenetrable. Any country who got their hands on it could alter the balance of power. She’d been given certain specifics, but not the exact reason why the mercenary wanted the man dead. Need to know basis.
But she certainly had come to her own conclusions.
As far as the mercenary, the FBI had yet to learn his name, although there’d been countless rumors regarding his possible identity. Some said he was a lone wolf, taking missions to the highest bidders. Others said he was calculated, working with what had been referred to as a consortium. Either way, the man was considered lethal. In and out in less than ten minutes.
There were too many red flags flying in the back of her mind. She would hunt down this Officer Renier one way or the other. If he wasn’t who he said he was, the asshole would have hell to pay.
Mr. Wallace had missed his usual nightly Blackjack game, the reason for her roleplay in the first place. The man was a creature of habit, which was terrible given her effort to keep the man alive. And on the very night when she was going to guide him to safety then catch the bad guy, he’d been a no-show.
Or least she thought so. Who knows. Maybe he’d arrived later than normal when she was... fucking a stranger.
Hissing, she glared at the handcuff then around the room. There was no sign of good ole Pierre. Of course not. Who in the hell was he? Her mind continued to reel.
First things
first. Deal with the predicament she was in. She wiggled with the metal, realizing that he’d adjusted the band, preventing her from sliding out as she’d done in the elevator. She would have to find another way.
The phone was on the other nightstand, not that she really wanted to call the front desk. There was no telling when the maid might arrive, and even then, she certainly didn’t want this public knowledge. She was already a laughing stock, at least in her mind.
Sophia opened the nightstand drawer, picking through the limited crap that was inside. There was a pen, one of the old-fashioned kind with a metal clip. Maybe, just maybe it would work.
As she finagled it into both hands, managing to break the clip with ease, she thought about Pierre, forced to admit to herself that he was one hot man and the sex had been amazing. His body was carved in all the right places, as if chiseled out of the finest French stone.
Even though the asshole certainly wasn’t French.
She knew her accents flawlessly, just like she did her weapons. While his dialect was masterful, she’d heard just enough inflection changes to know he was faking it. He was also damn good at playing a part, convincing enough to capture her once again.
Grumbling wasn’t going to do her any good.
After almost dropping the clip three times, she managed to slide the broken tip into the tiny hole. Another twenty minutes and she heard the click. “Fuck.”
Finally freed, she searched the entire room for any signs that this had even been his suite. Everything appeared neat and tidy, the same as after the room had been cleaned, which meant he did have something to do with the hotel or...
He was a criminal.
What if Pierre was the mercenary? She thought about the concept, hating every thought racing through her mind. The possibility was too disgusting, but plausible. Up to this point, the FBI had only seen two supposed photographs of the man affectionately termed ‘The Player’ given the assassin was well known for altering his appearance for whatever job he was performing. The photographs had been taken from surveillance cameras and from a distance, eliminating the possibility the man could be recognized on sight. There were no real labels on his attributes or characteristics. He was also a very graceful and brilliant chameleon. That pissed her off even more.
From what the FBI director had told her, the CIA was only remotely more well-versed in the assassin and his methods. The Player was a hired gun, reported as the most expensive in the world and always one hundred percent effective.
Was Pierre that savvy? She couldn’t risk not knowing.
The unknown assailant was on the most wanted list of almost every major country in the world. Everyone wanted a piece of him, including the United States.
What she’d learned was that The Player had a weak spot. A man with a conscience. His last target had lived through the first attempt on his life, enjoying his world for another three days. The assassin had also broken his usual protocol, leaving evidence at the scene, tracks made by heavy hiking boots. That certainly wasn’t enough to secure an identity at this point, but the mistake was to be noted. Sadly, the target had been extinguished on the second attempt, but at least he’d been alone.
The FBI was risking everything for this mission, completely out of their typical jurisdiction, but they hadn’t been able to stop Mr. Wallace from leaving the country. Sophia had taken a crash course in everything, leaving on a plane in less than forty-eight hours after FBI Director Jeff Montgomery had called her into his office. She was in way over her head but determined to hunt the fucker down, now more so than ever.
Maybe she was jetlagged. Maybe she was just psychotic.
Another set of red flags flew high as she dressed, grabbing her shoes and purse. The bastard had even gone through her clutch. Of course he had.
She remained incensed as she headed to her room, fortunately slinking inside without anyone noticing her. She immediately went to the safe, cursing the entire time she secured her weapon, laptop, and the burner phone she used to contact her director. Fortunately, it was still in the middle of the night on the East Coast, allowing her time to fix her giant fuckup.
Now, how the hell to do it.
After securing an internet line, she scoured the news sources from England to France, searching for any story indicating Mr. Wallace’s death. At this point, there was nothing. That didn’t mean a hell of a lot, but it was a start. She checked the inner office emails and there was no new information from the director either.
Next on her agenda? One long and hot shower, to wash off the disgrace. That might take several showers.
* * *
Devious.
The one thing that had kept Sophia moving up the ladder in her profession was learning how to be devious when necessary. “Excuse me.” She donned a Southern accent, batting her eyelashes at the young man behind the reservation desk.
“Oui, Madame?” he asked then grinned as his eyes shifted to her ample cleavage.
“That’s Mistress. I mean...” She slapped her hand over her mouth, laughing at her own fake faux pas. “I’m so sorry! I just don’t know French very well. I know. A smart southern girl like myself should have learned.”
The dashing blond moved even closer and she could easily tell what he was thinking. “Your French is beautiful.”
Who the hell was he kidding? “You’re so sweet. At least you speak English.”
“How can I help you?” he asked in a manner that suggested he would be off duty in about ten minutes.
She kept the plastered smile on her face as she used her hand as a fan, hoping she was also displaying a fake blush. “You are such a cutie pie. Well, it seems that my date last night was a no-show and a good little southern girl like me isn’t used to that. I was wondering if something might have happened to him.”
“Is he a guest in the hotel?”
“You know, I don’t think so, but the dear man told me that he gambles only in this location every time he’s in Monte Carlo.”
He shrugged and looked both ways, as if what he was about to tell her was one huge secret. “If he’s a high roller, then we keep track.”
“You keep track? Really?” Sophia beamed, getting sick to her stomach. Playing undercover in this manner wasn’t her style.
“What’s his name?”
“Stephen Wallace. He’s mighty fine-looking and I was so eager for the evening we were going to share. If you know what I mean, sugar.”
He lifted an eyebrow, his grin raw and gritty. “I know Mr. Wallace very well and he is definitely one of our high rollers. He has a suite here often. Let me see what I can find for you, miss.”
When he moved toward his computer, she took another chance. What the hell. “By the way, sugar, do you actually have an Officer Pierre Renier on your staff working as security?” Sophia already knew the answer. Leaning against the reservation desk, she scanned the perimeter of the opulent lobby, admiring all the beautiful people coming and going. Her working attire for the day? All tourist. The splashy tropical dress screamed of an American in France, vying to have a fabulous time before her next birthday. A little vino, a night of gambling and...
No, she was going to try very hard not to think about the night before, even if her pussy muscles still constricted every time she thought about him.
His rugged good looks.
His dazzling emerald eyes.
His suave attitude.
His rough and tumble actions.
His passionate kisses.
She dug her nails into the palm of her hand to break the psychotic vision.
“Officer Renier? Yes, he’s been with us for about two years. Are you by any chance in trouble with the law?” He winked after looking up from the computer.
Damn it. “Just a little disagreement. That’s all. Tall guy, shaggy dark hair, and the most mesmerizing eyes this side of the Mississippi?” She could see the clear confusion on his face.
He frowned, obviously processing her words. “Ah, I understand. He is that way.�
�� Happy with his answer, he returned to his computer.
Well, damn it all to hell. The man was a real policia. Then what the hell was the game about?
“Miss. Mr. Wallace was indeed supposed to stay last night, but he did not check in. There is a notation that he was delayed.”
“Delayed?” This was an interesting development.
The blond shook his head. “That is all I know. He will be back tomorrow. Would you like to leave him a note?”
A note. Fuck. Where in the world had he gone? With his anticipated stops in Belgium and London after this trip, she had no idea where he could be. She’d leave that to her stateside partner to find out. “That’s all right, sugar. I’ll just surprise him.” She blew the blond a kiss. “You are such a doll.”
She walked away before he had an opportunity to ask her out, which she had a feeling was on the tip of his tongue. She walked outside, shoving on her sunglasses and yanking her burner phone from her oversized purse. Two minutes later she found a secure enough location, one without prying ears. This was one call she’d risk out in the open.
The phone rang five times before there was an answer.
“Hell-lo,” the gravelly voice managed to spit out.
“David. Wake up.” David Camden had been her partner for long enough that she trusted him without question. He put up with her quirks and she put up with his stupidity.
“Sophia? Do you know the fuck what time it is?”
“Early or late depending. I need your help.”
“You always do.”
She rolled her eyes. “Our boy is missing.”
“What do you mean missing?” Now he was wide awake.
“Didn’t show up as scheduled.”
“Director Montgomery is going to be pissed.”
She lifted her middle finger, laughing at her instant reaction. “Tell me something I don’t know. What other interests does this guy have?”
