Power Play

by Landish, Lauren

  And isn’t that the point? I don’t fucking know.

  I have no idea how love is supposed to feel.

  The cold reality is a slap to my soul, and Emma’s silence is another hit. I sink to the bed once again, defeated and broken. More broken than I ever have been before.

  Slowly, I feel her fingers start to stroke my hair, and she bends over me, wrapping her arms around my head to whisper in my ear, “I’ve never had pink heart eye love either.”

  I pull back, and she sits, placing one of her hands on my chest and one on hers, over our respective hearts. “But whatever this feels like to you, it feels like love to me. I love you. And what you feel, that’s enough for me. I want that, all of that.”

  I swallow because I’m about to say something I thought I’d never say. If those are the words she uses to describe what I’m feeling, I’ll give them to her. “I love you, too.”

  She smiles at me, sweet and sultry and satisfied. And that I can give her all that with such a small gesture of the depth of what I feel mystifies me to no end.

  I need to tell her more, but there simply aren’t words for it in any spoken language.

  So I kiss her, hard but slow, letting everything I feel pour into her. I’m still not sure of the labels, but if she is, that’s enough for me.

  And I’ll make sure she never questions the power of what I feel for her, whatever name she wants to call it.

  The kiss catches fire, and she presses into my chest, trying to get closer to me, almost climbing me. I wrap my hand through her hair, pulling her tight, and the two of us share one breath, one heartbeat.

  Emma tries to push me back, but I’m in love, not whipped. After a moment of playful struggle, I push her back onto the mattress. “Uh-uh.”

  The moment of laughter dies on her lips when I follow her, aligning my body with hers and grinding my cock against the cradle of her core. She moans, finally wrapping her legs around me.

  I kiss along her neck, grazing the soft skin with my teeth, wanting to stay true to my word and mark her all over.

  But I settle for sucking kisses, knowing the redness will fade before we even leave this bed. It’s enough for now.

  She mewls beneath me, just like a kitten. She is my kitty.

  With her next wave of writhing, I push her shirt off her shoulders and yank her tank top over her head.

  She’s the one that reaches back and unhooks her sports bra.

  And then she’s bare to me. Taking one nipple into my mouth, I tease and pluck at the other, inhaling her salty skin.

  But as I try to go lower, licking and biting down her belly to her pants, she stops me. “Nathan, I haven’t showered in days. Literal days. I love it when you go down on me, but I love you enough to know that we don’t need to do that right now. I need you, deep inside me and making me yours. Just fuck me, please.”

  The last word is a plea, but I can deny her nothing.

  “I thought you’d want me to make love to you now,” I tease, though I’m curious to her answer. In my head, I guess along with the rainbows and glittery image of love, I expected her to want something a little sweeter than our last encounter.

  Still kissing her belly, I wait for her to answer as I undo her pants, sliding them down her legs and working at taking her boots off. Finally, I get the knots undone, and I’m able to remove the last stitches from her body.

  Once she’s naked, I stand up to take my clothes off too, shirt flying and pants dropping as I forcefully kick off my own boots, which I’d thankfully untied as soon as I got onboard. She hums as she thinks and watches me hungrily.

  When I’m just as bare and exposed as her, she answers. “Firstly, I fucking loved what we did before. I hate that you felt like you needed to punish me, but the result was something I’d repeat anytime you like. But I don’t think ‘I love you’ sex has to be any certain way. I mean, soft and slow is good, and hard and fast is good. We could do this in a bed, in the shower, or you could take me in the middle of the jungle we just left. You can take an hour or pound the shit out of me in five minutes. Just hold my hand while you do it and we’re good.”

  The blush on her cheeks and smirk on her lips are like a pure shot of lust.

  “Say it again,” I demand.

  She blinks once, twice, and then gets it. “Fuck me, please. Make me come on your cock.”

  There’s no beg, no pleading tone this time. Her words are just as much a demand as mine.

  I tease my crown along her slit, groaning at the slippery heat. “Fuck, kitty. Already so wet for me.”

  Pushing into her feels like getting squeezed by a vice, velvet walls gripping me and sucking me in. “And so damn tight. Relax, let me in this pussy.”

  I give her an inch at a time, going slow so she adjusts, and finally, I’m seated fully in her.

  “You good?” I ask, leaning forward to brush a lock of hair from her face.

  She whines, trying to roll her hips on the thin mattress into me. “No, I need you to move.”

  I’m enough of a bastard to admit I like that tone to her voice, like I’m driving her crazy with need and I’m the only one who can satisfy her. I like her bossy tone too, but this is the one that makes me lose control.

  I pull out and slam back into her, watching her tits bounce as I pin her hips in place. “I’ve missed fucking this pussy, missed you.” It feels like different confessions but equally important.

  Her hands scrabble at the blanket, looking for purchase, and I grab them. Pulling them up over her head, I pin her but hold her hand like she asked. And then I pound the shit out of her like she said to.

  In and out I thrust, finding a roughshod rhythm that makes her cries grow louder and louder. I kiss her hard, cutting her off before whispering in her ear, “Shh, kitty. I’m sure Caleb knows what’s going on back here, but those noises are mine, just mine. Bite that lip or I’ll have to shove something in your mouth to keep you quiet.”

  Her eyes light up like she likes that idea. So I keep her hands pinned with one of mine and cover her mouth with my other. I can feel her smile against my palm, and then I feel her hot tongue stick out and lick me.

  I raise an eyebrow and laughter dances in her eyes. But it disappears instantly when I stroke into her hard, bottoming out and grinding there for good measure.

  My voice is a hissing punishment. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk for days, kitty. Just keep you sexed up in my bed until I feel like you understand all the dark, depraved, filthy things I want to do to this body.”

  I let my eyes trace down her luscious skin, taking in the dirt from our adventure, the freckles that have popped out from a couple of days in the sun, and her sexy curves.

  But as much as I want her body, my eyes trace back up to meet hers.

  And I can see it, feel it shining in the depths there. Her love.

  I wonder if she can see it in mine too.

  Because every wall is shattered between us. Every lie, every falsehood from our past is washed away in this moment, and it’s just us. Real and true, heated and needy.

  “I love you,” I cry as I bottom out a final time, exploding deep within her as I’m swept away in the feeling of being completely accepted and loved by another person. I’d never imagined it would be this powerful, this healing of the cracks and splinters in my soul.

  Emma’s words are locked behind my hand, but I feel her kiss my palm and know she feels the same way as she tightens beneath me, her pussy milking every last drop from my balls.

  Chapter 40

  Carly

  I am a rebel, a wild animal that refuses to be caged ever again.

  I’ve lived in captivity, gotten the T-shirt, and I’ll pass on an encore performance, thank you very much.

  And as soon as someone tells me I can’t do something, I want to do it twice as much.

  Just to prove them wrong.

  But somehow, that’s ended up with me here.

  Where’s here?

  Oh, you know, weari
ng all black and carrying a backpack full of gear toward Nathan Stone’s house. No big deal.

  Except it is.

  A really big fucking big deal.

  First of all, I’m not usually one for major B&E adventures. With my penchant for avoiding cages, jail seems like the prime example of something I don’t want to do.

  Second, considering what they’re telling me about Nathan Stone, jail might be the least of my worries.

  But here I am.

  When Claire told us all about Nathan’s trip to Brazil and Emma chasing after him, Kyle had seen an opening to get some firsthand knowledge.

  The only problem is we don’t know how long Nathan will be gone.

  It’s not like we’re guests here and can wander around and use the facilities.

  The only saving grace is that Kyle’s recon had shown that there’s no one in the house. He’d suspected there’d be staff here, but it seems they’ve taken the opportunity of having no master in the house to escape too.

  So, we’re making our move. Kyle breaches the security at Nathan’s estate house first, which was no easy feat. I don’t even want to know where he got the laptop he uses to get past the electronic security systems, and watching him pick the physical locks shatters any misconceptions I might have had about his being a ‘good guy’.

  Now we wait, in the darkness of Nathan’s home office. Kyle spent a while shuffling through papers and digging in drawers, looking for any evidence he could find. But eventually, he just sat down in Nathan’s chair, like he was channeling his own personal Boogeyman. On the desk in front of Kyle is a handgun, the intent very clear.

  “Are you sure about this?” I whisper.

  Kyle’s eyes glitter in the dark and I see a flash of white as he talks. “He’s not mourning his dad, no matter what he told Emma or she told Claire. Nathan’s a workaholic. Whatever he’s there for, he’ll come to this office first when he gets back. At a minimum, just to put his laptop down, but likely to go back to work. He’s cold like that. This is our best spot.”

  “I didn’t really mean ‘is there a better spot to ambush him?’ I meant ‘should we be doing this?’ in the broader sense, but I think you just gave your answer anyway.”

  “You can go if you need to. I won’t hold it against you.” His voice is gruff, and though I think he believes he means the words, they’re lies. He’ll absolutely hold it against me.

  Kyle is here to exact revenge for the loss of his Anna, a mission I hope I can help him recover from once he’s succeeded.

  And I’m here to save my friend, the only person who’s ever been there for me and has unknowingly gotten tangled up with a man who will kill to keep his family money, traditions, and secrets.

  If that means I need to get my own hands a little dirty . . . that’s a price I’m willing to pay, but maybe, just maybe, I can stop anyone from getting killed.

  “I’m staying.”

  Kyle

  Even after sitting here for hours, there’s this sense of anticipation permeating every second, a faint tang in the air, like I can taste the justice I’m planning to serve.

  It might be cold and belated, a bitter flavor at best, but it is still warranted, and I believe I’ll find just as much satisfaction as if it’d happened immediately after Anna’s death.

  It’s been so much work to catch this bastard, to truly find my way out of the depths of depression and then work angles and find resources to help me get answers. Raul started the process, finally giving me a direction, even if he refused to investigate further.

  But now it’s time to make Nathan pay.

  I never dreamed I’d be doing it with someone else at my side, especially not a woman I care about. It complicates things, but Carly is also that important to me.

  I didn’t think I’d ever care for anyone again, figured the black hole in my soul was a vacuum that’d destroy anyone who so much as got close to me.

  But Carly hasn’t been destroyed.

  At least not yet.

  But after tonight, after she sees the truth of what I’ve become, she’ll likely run for the hills if she’s got half a brain.

  And she definitely has a brain. She’s smart.

  Selfishly, though, I want to keep her, this woman who has brought me back from the dead, breathed life into the cold corpse of a heart that lives in my chest. But that’s not really my decision to make, only the wish of a reawakened heart.

  If she runs, I’ll let her. It’ll hurt, but I’ll live and always be thankful she bumped into me, challenged me, made me face reality when I wanted to burrow away in my anger and pity party of one.

  The moment of truth arrives when lights flash over the building, and I can hear the low rumble of a garage door opening.

  Sitting forward, I pick up the Glock from the desk blotter as I hear sounds below. The front door opens and closes, and then hushed voices carry up the stairs.

  A female squeal bursts out, and I see Carly’s eyes shoot wide in fear before they settle as she registers that the sound was one of happiness, especially given the giggles that follow.

  I hold up a finger, telling her to steady herself. Seconds later, the wait is over.

  The office door opens, and I train my gun on the shadowy shape filling the door.

  The light switches on, and I speak gruffly, “Stone.”

  He drops his cargo, a blonde woman with blue eyes. Emma, judging by the pictures at her apartment.

  She yelps in surprise and pain as she just barely catches herself from falling ass first to the carpeted floor, but my gaze stays locked on the man before me.

  In front of me is the man who took my Anna, took my baby, took my life though I’m still illogically upright.

  Nathan moves Emma behind him, but she peeks out, exclaiming, “Carly?”

  The girls are both nearly gasping in fear, but Stone and I breathe evenly, our training evident as we take each other’s measure.

  Our muscles are coiled tight, but we don’t move an inch, knowing that the slightest twitch can set off an attack.

  Our jaws clench in fury, eyes hard as we stare each other down.

  I hear Carly beside me, her voice trying to remain calm and failing utterly. “Emma, come here. You don’t know what he’s done. Nathan is a bad man, a dangerous man. I’m here to save you.”

  She stands in the edge of my vision, reaching out for Emma, trying to encourage her away from Nathan’s side, but he has a tight grip on her wrist. But I see something else, something Carly can’t see yet. Emma’s moving closer to Stone.

  Emma shakes her head, trying to hug her man. “What are you talking about? Nathan’s not a bad man. And who is this? What the hell are you doing?”

  They’ve had their girl-talk moment and it went exactly as I’d expected, unfortunately. Nathan’s got Emma under his spell, likely using his good looks and money and sweet words.

  She probably never had a chance against his charm.

  I lift my pistol up. I don’t want to hit Emma, and that means I have to be very precise with any shot I take, and Nathan’s eyes narrow as he bargains.

  “Whoever you are, I’ve done some shit in my life, some bad shit, but you can let Emma go. Whatever it is I’ve done that brought you to my doorstep, she had nothing to do with it, so let her go.”

  His voice is steady, like he’s trying to calm a rabid dog, and that’s probably a pretty accurate description of me right now with the emotion and rage that are boiling inside me.

  “Like you let her go?” I challenge. “You took my woman, my child, like they were just . . . trash to be tossed aside. Like they meant nothing! What if I did the same to you? Kill her first, let you live with that as your last thought, last image before I kill you too?”

  Carly growls under her breath, and I know she’s mad because that is definitely not part of the plan. She’s here to save Emma, not let me use her against Nathan. In fact, I doubt she’d be happy if I were to kill Stone, even if I told her that’s what I wanted to do.

&nb
sp; But the threat is too easy, and it’s sure to get a rise from him. I want him to lose control, to push her away so I have a clean shot, and hopefully even admit his deeds so I can finally get some sort of closure.

  Instead, I see the confusion on his face, and it only makes me angrier, like he’s killed so many, he can’t even remember the ones who meant so much to me.

  Like they were nothing.

  “Anna Russo,” I growl, reminding him. “Say it. Say her name.”

  But he doesn’t.

  Instead, his eyebrows lift, and he licks his lips. “Dad’s historian? What about her?”

  Dismissive prick.

  I should just start shooting, stop his lies, stop this madness, but the pain in my core demands to be unleashed. I need fucking answers.

  I come up and close the distance with Nathan before staring into his soulless, evil eyes. He doesn’t so much as stutter a breath as I press my Glock against his forehead, but his head does whip to the side as I reverse my pistol and backhand him with the butt of the gun. Sick pleasure fills my heart when I see blood fly, and he grunts in pain.

  I knee him in the stomach, doubling him up as Carly and Emma cry out and then Emma is trying to pull me off Nathan. But I’m unleashing all my pent-up fury and anger and can’t be stopped.

  “Kyle!” Carly yells.

  I ignore her and instead throw more punches, knocking Nathan to a knee that I follow up with a kick that snaps his head back, sending him sprawling onto the carpet. Standing over his semi-conscious body, I scream into his face.

  “You son of a bitch, you killed her! She was my life! And you killed her!”

  Somewhere through the fog, I hear Carly and Emma both yelling at me, “No! No!”

  But my rain of terror continues, connecting with him every opening I get as he starts to fight back, but I’m on top, still in control.

  It’s Emma’s words that break through my tunnel vision when she yells, “I was sent here by the FBI to investigate him for killing her. He didn’t do it!”

  I already know about the undercover part from Claire, but her vehemence that Nathan is innocent gives me a tiny bit of hesitation.