by M. S. Parker
“Where did you learn that?” I managed to gasp out the question.
Apparently he decided he didn’t need to answer with words. Instead, he flicked his tongue upwards over the oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves. It was quick, but my body responded like he had shocked me. I felt him chuckle, the vibrations making me gasp, then cry out as he flicked his tongue against me a few more times. My thighs tightened involuntarily against the sides of his head.
He laughed, apparently enjoying my reaction as much as I was enjoying what he was doing. Some men performed oral sex like it was a chore, something that needed to be done to get ready for the main event. Not him.
My hand landed on the back of his head, fingers buried in his hair. I rocked my hips against his mouth, spearing myself on his oh-so-talented tongue. To his credit, he let me ride his face, use him until the building pleasure and pressure inside me snapped, and I let out a keening wail, head thrown back in utter abandon. He let me finish, his tongue moving slowly over me, drawing out my pleasure until all my muscles went wonderfully limp.
Oh yes, this was exactly what I’d needed.
When I opened my eyes, Cameron had found the condom in my nightstand drawer and was rolling it on. A moment later, he was crawling up my body. I was all too willing to let him position me how he needed as he gripped his sizable length and lined it up with my very wet, very ready entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes flicking up to me to see if it was alright. I nodded that I was ready – more than ready – and he moved his hips towards me.
That same pressure and pleasure started up again almost as soon as he pushed forward. All the air rushed from my lungs, and for a moment, all I could do was breathe as he fully sheathed himself. It had definitely been too long, and he wasn't small. He moved slowly a few times, testing out how my body responded to him. It wasn’t until I placed both hands on his back and pulled him to me greedily that he began thrusting into me with more power.
“Cameron,” I hissed his name.
Time seemed to slow, to narrow down to just the two of us, as if nothing else existed. Just flesh on flesh, pleasure on pleasure. No criminals, no work, no responsibilities. No need for future promises. Just us.
My climax rushed towards me yet again, and he seemed to sense it. He cupped one of my breasts, caressing it while one of his fingers played with my sensitive nipple. I let out a mewl despite myself, writhing up against him. I'd always been responsive, but this was all him. He'd never be at a loss for partners.
“Oh god, I think I’m going to…!” I trailed off, unable to complete the thought.
His rhythm stuttered, and I knew he was as close as me. Almost frenzied, he drove into me with everything he had. I raised up to meet him, hips slamming into hips. I was faintly aware of my cries of pleasure bouncing off the thin walls, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. Meeting my neighbors for the next few days might be a bit awkward, but it'd be worth it.
Finally, the moment came. Or rather, we both did. I went first, nails on his broad back, my legs high in the air, and he quickly followed. We rode through the pleasure together before collapsing onto the bed, both breathless.
I slowly floated down from the high, concentrating on the sound of my breathing, the rush of blood in my ears. Neither of us spoke, and for that I was grateful. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy the moment.
My situation hadn’t really changed, but I felt like I'd at least have a clearer head about me tomorrow.
Chapter Eleven
Bron
My fists clenched as I watched Karis lean over the bar to order another drink. It wasn’t fair for her to look so delicious in that barely-there skirt and tight shirt. It was miles apart from the business suits I'd spied her in before, and, holy hell, that woman had legs for days. I wanted nothing more than to sweep downstairs with my typical dramatic flair and pull her out onto the dance floor, not taking no for an answer.
I could just imagine the surprised expression when she recognized me, an eyebrow that would raise in some wordless challenge. My confidence as a child wasn't even close to what it was now, but I'd had enough of it that she'd called me on my bullshit more than once.
I thought back to when she'd suddenly shot up, towering over all of the boys, even me. She'd been so self-conscious about her long limbs at the time, but I distinctly remembered thinking that she looked beautiful. It seemed like the beautiful part was the same, but the confidence part had definitely changed for the better.
Or maybe “better” wasn’t the correct word. My nostalgia faded when I saw a guy slither up to her. Sure, he was tall with a thick head of hair, and fairly well dressed, but he looked like a total sleaze. As someone who routinely rubbed shoulders with sleazy guys, I considered myself an expert – if not one myself.
I watched from my view on the second floor of the club. I knew I was being an idiot by risking being out in the open, in the same place as the FBI agent who was investigating me just happened to be, but I couldn’t help myself.
I'd been right about my new grift occupying my mind, but now that my next step involved waiting around until Monday to contact Leticia, I didn’t have much to distract myself from the possibility of seeing Karis again.
With nothing on my mind to keep me at bay, I'd waited for her to leave work, frowning when I saw her looking both tired and frazzled. I should have just let her walk to the subway, eventually disappearing from my sight, but something had compelled me to go after her.
So I had. Like some sort of obsessed stalker, I'd followed her until she'd disappeared into a quaint little apartment complex in a decent, but certainly not elite, part of the city. It was exactly the sort of place I would've pictured her living.
And I stayed, watched like I had some purpose for being there. I knew a very small part of me wanted to march right up to her door and announce myself like some Crusader returning after years of battle. Thankfully, my sense of self-preservation didn’t let me do that. The chance that she knew I was here was slim, but I shouldn't be taking any chances.
However, fortune seemed to favor the bold, or at least the stupid, and a short while later, Karis was leaving again, wrapped in a winter coat and wearing a pair of heels that made her even closer to my own height.
I'd followed her again, of course, taking in those gorgeously toned legs as we went. It'd grown more difficult to keep my distance, but I'd managed, and now found myself sitting and watching as she talked to the dark-haired guy.
“What happened to you, Karis?” I murmured to myself.
Although she'd slid to the back of my mind for the past few years, I now found myself realizing just how long we'd been apart. For all I knew, she could be engaged. Or a lesbian. Or both. She could've been married, divorced, and now a single mother.
In truth, we'd been separated for almost as long as we'd known each other, and the thought was particularly devastating.
Perhaps devastating wasn’t the right word either. Discomforting? Nausea-inducing? Unpleasant?
I couldn’t really put my finger on what exactly I was feeling. All I knew for certain was that I felt a hollow sort of ache accompanied by a familiar rush of adolescent awe every time I saw her.
Shit. I needed to pull myself together, or this was going to end badly for me.
I was about to get up and leave, disgusted at both my pining and my willingness to risk incarceration by watching my childhood crush get her flirt on when I saw sleaze guy wrap an arm around Karis’ waist and whisper in her ear.
Son of a bitch.
I barely refrained from growling.
She'd see right through him, I had no doubt. She'd put him in his place and then she'd–
She was leaving with him?
I shot to my feet before realizing what I was doing, and then slowly lowered myself back down. Karis was a grown woman, and she could take anyone home that she wanted.
Even if it was some sleazy moron who probably had an IQ in the single digits.
I bit my tongue, trying to
stop my temper from flaring up. She didn’t owe me anything. We hadn't even been high school sweethearts. All we'd ever been was friends. And we hadn't seen each other in years. Just because I'd seen her and now couldn't stop thinking about her didn't mean she couldn't date whoever she wanted to date. She was a consenting adult, and I had no claim on her. We weren't anything to each other.
So why did I feel betrayed?
I finished my drink, my mind running in circles.
What if that asshole was her boyfriend and she'd planned to meet him here after he got off work? What if they were happy and healthy together like some fucking fairy tale?
I didn’t have any right to her. I knew that mentally, but my emotions didn’t seem to care. It was like I'd suddenly become that awkward teenager who wanted to fight anyone who tried to come between me and the girl I'd loved forever.
Dammit!
I waited the appropriate amount of time for Karis to put some distance between us, then left the club without looking twice at any of the women who'd been watching me. I knew I was brooding. Actually no, I was full on pouting. All my years of growing and conning the elite, and one day of watching Karis had reduced me to a teenager with a crush.
Perfect.
What would Uaine say if he saw me now?
Then again, who cared what that gun-toting bastard thought? He was in the past, tied up with a neat bow right where he belonged. He liked to claim that he'd made me, but I knew he hadn't done shit out of the goodness of his heart.
It'd been easy to keep him locked away.
But Karis was refusing to stay neatly tucked into the box I'd shoved my childhood into, and now she was pulling out all sorts of memories I thought were long since buried.
I had to get a handle on this as soon as possible. Otherwise, my story would end up being more America’s Most Wanted than Robin Hood.
I may have been confused about Karis, but I definitely knew that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in jail because I got careless.
Chapter Twelve
Karis
I woke up slowly, and for the first time since the museum theft, I didn’t feel like I'd been dragged out of a swamp. I looked around and was grateful to see that my unplanned visitor had already shown himself out. I hadn't even stirred, which said a lot about how deep I'd been sleeping. I appreciated the fact that he'd just gone without a word. Some women might've found it humiliating or offensive, but I just took it as him understanding how things were between us.
That was good. I didn't do the hook-up thing often, but I really didn't like the awkward morning after shit.
I glanced at my clock and realized I’d woken up about ten minutes before my alarm. Nice. I hated weekend alarms worse than the weekday ones.
I took my time getting up. It was nice not to have to rush for once, and I felt like that, combined with my fresh eyes from a full night’s sleep, would help get me places.
Normally, I didn’t go into the office on the weekends, but normally I wasn’t trying to beat my coworkers to the punch on a case that could potentially end up with my childhood crush facing heavy jail time. After all, the standard sentence for someone convicted of this sort of thing was twenty-five years, and I just couldn't do that to him.
I dressed casually and was out the door in about an hour, warm piece of toast in hand. I nibbled at it lazily, feeling both alive and lucid for the first time in days.
I should've known things were going to go to shit.
I was almost to the subway when I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. Turning around, I scanned the area, trying to find what was setting off that primal instinct that most people had. The one that said something was off.
As far as I could tell, none of the people around me were staring me down or sizing me up for a purse snatching. Shrugging, I continued on my walk, senses now on high alert.
I was aware that this was usually the point where a woman would shrug and say it all must have been in her head, but I trusted my instincts more than that. They were part of what made me such a good agent.
The feeling didn’t go away for the rest of my short commute, confirming that I didn't just imagine it. I forced myself to keep my head facing forward and ran through my various options. The worst thing I could do right now was to repeatedly look back. It would either agitate my stalker and incite them to act, or it could chase them off before I could find out why I was being shadowed.
Instead, I stuck to short glances at reflective objects as I made my way up the stairs to the sidewalk, pretending I was none the wiser. Unfortunately, I couldn’t catch a glimpse of my pursuer during any of the brief opportunities, but I knew he was there.
Depending on how persistent my pursuer was, they would either make the mistake of trying to follow me into the FBI offices, or sit outside and wait for me to come out – that was, of course, if it was someone looking specifically for me.
And there was no way in hell I’d sit around the office, just waiting to come out and do this dance again.
I pulled my cellphone out, took stock of everything around me, and then fake tripped, sending the device skittering into the alley beside me.
I made a flustered sound and followed after it. The moment I was out of view of the street, I ducked behind a dumpster and pressed myself to the wall. Sure enough, within a minute, I heard broad but light steps at the entrance of the alley.
Whoever it was paused, and I forced myself to resist the temptation to jump out at them. I needed to be patient. They just needed to come a little closer…
My shadow took a cautious step into the alley, no doubt concerned as to why it was empty. Then he took another step. I waited a few more breaths until he took a third and final step before I struck.
I rushed him, charging with my shoulder thrust forward. I hit him in the chest and knocked him back a few steps, throwing him off balance. He was bigger than I thought he'd be, but I knew I could still handle myself.
Then he straightened to reveal all six and a half feet of the con artist who'd been haunting me all week.
“Bron?” I gasped, all the air rushing from my body.
He was even taller looking in person, and his lean form filled out what I recognized as a designer coat. This was him. My best friend. My Broderick.
My Bron.
We stood there for a moment, the years weighing heavily between us.
And then he was kissing me, his mouth hot and hard against mine, years of unspoken feelings, of things lost coming together. It was everything I'd dreamed it would be. It made me feel desire, need...safety. Nothing could hurt me if Bron were here...
No.
None of that was real.
What was real was that I was a federal agent investigating a crime that this man had committed.
Although I wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms, let him continue to kiss me, touch me, I knew I couldn't do it.
I pressed my hands against his chest and put a little distance between us. “Bron, what did you do?”
“What I had to,” he whispered, his face clouded over with guilt and sadness.
He pressed his lips to mine once more, a gentle, almost chaste kiss. Then he turned and fled. He scaled the tall fence at the end of the alley like it was nothing, and I just stared after him, watching him disappear yet again.
I'd heard that history was doomed to repeat itself, but I’d never dreamed that its looping would be able to break my heart.
Again.
Continues in Con Man Book 2. Turn the page to keep reading.
Con Man Book 2
Chapter One
Karis
I stood there, unable to move, unable to put together a coherent thought. Only his name – Bron – echoed in my mind, a single repetition. My lips still tingled from where his had been just a second ago, first in the fierce sort of claiming that came with unfulfilled passion, and then in the sort of chaste kiss that I'd dreamed of as an adolescent, hiding the crush I'd had on my best friend.
&
nbsp; Meanwhile, he was running away.
Seeing him haul himself over the fence snapped me back to the world of the living, and I gave chase. I grabbed the fence and hauled myself up and over faster than I thought possible. Heart in my throat, I twisted over the top and barely managed to land on my feet on the other side. I had a moment to be grateful that I never wore heels to work, and then I was off again.
The pounding of his footsteps echoed ahead of me, but this side of the alley was too deep in shadows for me to see him. Any other day, my long legs and hours of training could have me outpacing most perpetrators, but Bron had six inches on me as well as the benefit of adrenaline that came with being chased.
I caught a glimpse of him as he turned coming out of the alley and put on an extra burst of speed. It was morning rush hour, and I knew the streets would be packed with people trying to get to work on time. If I didn't get my eyes on him soon, he could disappear into the crowd.
I couldn’t blame him for running. If I'd been in his position, I would've done the same thing. If only he'd given me a chance to talk, he would've known that I didn’t intend to bring him in at all.
Not until I got my explanation, until I finally got the answers I'd been looking for.
I caught him throwing a quick glance over his shoulder as I emerged from the alley. His cerulean blue eyes narrowed slightly, and I knew he'd seen me. He couldn't slow down and blend in now. He had to keep running.
“FBI!” I shouted as I ran after him, shoving between people who didn't move on their own.
He made it down a single block before cutting into another alley. I was pretty sure he was hoping he could get to the end before I could see which way he turned. If my partner had been chasing him, it might've worked. She was average height, but her legs weren't even close to as long as mine. At six feet, I had more than half a foot on her. I was also counting on the fact that Bron was a white-collar criminal, an art thief who spent more time analyzing alarm systems than working out. Granted, he appeared to be in great shape, but I'd been top of my class.