by Lexi Blake
“Where does it hurt?”
That finger of his was so close to her clit and the ring she had in her hood. All he would have to do was toy with that ring and she would go off like a rocket.
But he was a cruel Dom and he knew her body well. The finger dipped inside her briefly before stroking her labia, not even coming close to her clit.
“A little higher, Sir.”
This was the game. He liked to hear her cry and beg, and something about his denial made the eventual orgasm so much stronger.
He stepped back. “I think you’re trying to take something that should only be mine to give, brat.” This smack was hard and made her clench her teeth. “I think you need something more than a spanking. Don’t move or I’ll start again.”
Damn him. He was going to drag it out, make her wait. He was going to remind her that he was in charge and she got nothing until he was ready to give it to her.
She heard him moving behind her. The bathroom door opened and she wondered what he was going to do to her. Anticipation was all part of the game, but so was this terrible mind fuck he loved so much. He wouldn’t tell her what he was going to do. He would simply do it and she would go through the experience. She would let go of the control she felt she needed ninety-nine percent of the time.
She took a deep breath and listened to the water come on in the bathroom, felt the air on her skin, the ache in her ass.
“Have I ever told you what seeing you this way makes me feel?” Henry asked, his voice dark and deep.
She wished she could tell him not to talk, that she didn’t want to listen to him say what he loved about her. It would be disrespectful to their roles in the moment. She could use her safe word and stop the scene, but she couldn’t take control of it and get her way. In that he had her in a corner. She wasn’t willing to stop the scene. She wanted the physical, and that meant she had to take the words he would say since they hadn’t exactly laid this out.
She loved his words. One of the reasons he worked for her as a Dom was the fact that he loved to talk while they played, loved to tell her she was beautiful and how much she moved him. Those words connected them every bit as much as the sex did.
“It makes me feel like I’m worthy,” he admitted, moving in behind her again. “You are such an independent woman, and the fact that you trust me enough to give this part of our lives into my hands makes me feel more powerful than any mission.”
She wasn’t going to listen. The words could be said, but that didn’t mean she had to let them sink into her soul the way she normally did.
“I can see you thinking, my love. You think if I lied about one thing, why couldn’t I lie about this? If the premise of the love story is a lie, doesn’t the whole thing fall apart?”
She felt a hand on her backside, pulling her cheeks apart, and she whimpered. He was going there? Of course he was. He’d told her he wanted everything, and he was going to take it.
Because he knew she wouldn’t be able to deny him. He’d branded her. She understood that now. The nipple rings and VCH enhanced their play, but they also were things only Henry could see, only Henry would ever get to touch. They were reminders that her body belonged to him because she’d given it to him.
Henry didn’t even have a tattoo.
That didn’t seem fair.
She felt the plug against her and gritted her teeth. She loved this part, and it only proved how perverted she was. Or maybe it proved how deeply intimacy affected her. Maybe the sex reflected the relationship. What she loved about anal was that frission that went up her spine telling her this wasn’t what should happen, that this was slightly wrong. Except it wasn’t. It was beautiful and required adjustment and work to make it glorious. It was something that got better over time.
“What you don’t understand is that sometimes the lie is only there to protect the most precious truth.” He’d lubed up that plug. She could feel it. This was something they’d done enough that she was trained to take a plug, had muscle memory of the pleasure this would bring her. He pressed the plug to her and gently rotated it.
She let a deep breath out and flattened her back, allowing Henry full access to her.
“The truth is I love our life so much, I would have done anything to protect it,” he said. “Hate me for being a ruthless bastard. Hate me for doing whatever it took to keep you. But never think that my love is a lie. It was the only thing real in my life back then. It’s the only thing that matters now.”
She pushed back against the plug, needing the sensation. He could say whatever he liked in this place but she still needed time, and she would get it. For however long he was gone, she would take it and think.
“Henry, please.” It wasn’t a plea for him to move faster or to stop the physical act. It was begging him to not force her to do something she didn’t want to do.
He ruthlessly moved that plug in and out, fucking her ass with it. “You please me on every level. And I’ll stop. It’s hard. There’s nothing I like to talk about more than you. Ask anyone. I annoy them. But for now, I’ll give you the only thing you’ll let me give you.”
The plug slid in, opening her and making her deliciously vulnerable. She let the sensation wash over her. She’d missed this so much. For weeks she’d needed to feel like a woman and not merely an expectant mother. “Please fuck me, Henry.”
“You want me to fuck your little asshole? Is that what you want? I’m going to need you to be specific because it’s been a while since I’ve felt that tight hole around my dick.”
Those were better words. Sex words. She could handle those words. “I want you to fuck my ass, Henry. I want to feel you there. You seem to think I didn’t miss it, but I did. I missed that big cock of yours. I missed it in my pussy and in my ass and in my mouth.”
She’d missed his hands on her, moving slowly, caressing up and down her back in the early hours of the morning and late at night. She’d missed the comfort of his body next to hers.
And she’d definitely missed being his sub, letting go in the way she only could when he was close to her.
He pulled the plug and she heard him moving behind her. He would have brought out everything he needed because Henry was like a Boy Scout when it came to sex. Always prepared.
Or a ruthless operative. Had he tortured with the efficiency of a Dom, never having to stop to do anything so bland as washing up? He would have prepared for that. He wouldn’t have to go back into the bathroom to ensure he could touch her anywhere he needed to. He would have everything he needed to ensure her safety and pleasure.
Then she felt the hard ridge of his erection against the seam of her ass as his hands gripped her hips and moved her into position.
“You’ll take this from me.”
She’d never taken it from anyone but him. He’d been her only lover. When she’d met him, she’d discovered how different he was from the other men she’d known. She’d realized how dangerous he would be, and she’d still taken the chance because no one had ever moved her the way Henry could.
“Yes. I’ll take this.” Maybe this was where they should start connecting. Sex had always been good. She might not be able to open her heart again, but he owned her body.
His dick started to breach her, discomfort quickly giving way to a familiar heat. She let her head drop forward, panting as he worked his way into her ass. So big. He felt huge in her ass, and even as she was stretched tight, she found herself pressing back, trying to take more of him.
One hand came around and she gasped as he touched her VCH, the pad of his finger running over it and making it press against her clitoris.
It was only a matter of time then. Between the cock fucking her ass and the way he was pressing down on her clit, she couldn’t last long. She wanted it to take forever, to be stuck in this place where the pleasure built and built, but he was too good, knew her body far too well.
Her eyes rolled back as the wave of her orgasm hit her, stronger than she’d felt it before. It seemed
to go on and on until Henry stiffened behind her and she felt heat flood her as he came.
He kissed the back of her neck before pulling away from her. She was about to tell him thank you and goodnight as politely as she could. That was the moment he maneuvered her into his arms, hauling her against his chest.
“Henry, what are you doing?”
He moved toward the bathroom. “I’ve got one night. I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to clean you up and then I’m going to eat your pussy until you can’t order me out of our bed.”
“You can stay.” If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want him to go back to the couch. “I’m fixing up the guest room while you’re gone. Then you won’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“Then I’ll eat your pussy every fucking night,” he vowed. “I told you I’m not giving up. God, I’m going to miss you.”
She would miss him, too, but the words stuck in her throat.
She would miss him.
She hoped she wouldn’t miss him forever.
Fall
Chapter Seven
Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Henry had left, and she wasn’t sure if she missed him or not.
Well, she was sure she missed her husband, but she didn’t miss the problems they had. Life had settled into a comfortable routine, and there were even days when she managed to forget that he’d lied to her.
When she really thought about it, what she liked was the numbness she’d found, and she knew that was a problem. She just couldn’t seem to find her way out of it. While Henry was gone, she didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to think.
Twenty-one days without him. Did she honestly think she could handle a lifetime of this?
The first week had been pretty easy. She’d spent her time changing the craft room into a guest room. Michael had driven her around in his big truck, picking up a mattress and bedding that Michael would use, and then Henry.
If she could hold out.
“I’ve checked the yard. If you want to sit outside for a while, it’s safe enough,” a low voice rumbled.
This was her life now. She had to make sure no evil was lurking before she did something as simple as sitting on her back porch watching the river go by.
Michael Novack took his job far too seriously. He shadowed her everywhere she went. He’d even stopped her from going to the ladies’ room at Stella’s until he was sure it was secure. She foresaw problems as she got bigger.
Right now her baby was only the size of an apple, but from what she’d read that baby would soon use her bladder as a trampoline, and then Michael was going to be in trouble because she wouldn’t care that an assassin could be waiting for her. She would use that bathroom.
“Thank you, Michael. Would you like a cup of tea?” She poured herself a cup of ginger tea. For some reason she found comfort in drinking something before bedtime. It used to be wine. She and Henry would sit together side by side and enjoy a glass of wine as they went over the day’s events.
What had his day been like? What was he doing even as she made tea and prepared for bed? Was he getting back into his former lifestyle? Was he surrounded by beautiful women, his heart pounding with excitement?
“I think I’ll pass on the tea.” Michael had shaved weeks ago, but his beard was already growing back in. They made an odd pair. Michael was a mass of muscle in jeans, boots, and a leather jacket most of the time, while she was most comfortable in her airy skirts and loose blouses and Birkenstocks. The weather was already starting to turn, the chill becoming clear in the air. “But dinner was actually pretty good. I didn’t know I liked eggplant.”
Most people didn’t. It was a highly underused vegetable, in her opinion. She took her tea and started for the back door. “It’s Henry’s favorite. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m making pasta and veggies tomorrow night.”
He followed her out, his footsteps resounding through the cabin. “I look forward to it. It’s nice to have something homemade. I’m afraid I’ve been living off beans and canned chili for a while. Did Henry reach out to you today? I haven’t heard from him in a couple of days.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” All he would tell her was his original plan hadn’t worked out, and he needed to go down to Mexico. Talking to her husband was frustrating these days. She wanted to know what was going on, and he would simply tell her he couldn’t talk about it. It had been her plan. She’d helped him, but now he was shutting her out. “I wonder if he’s going to come home at all.”
“Because of the dudes who showed up last week?” Michael eased himself into the Adirondack chair Henry always used.
It had been two men in black suits. They’d looked utterly out of place standing on her porch asking if they could talk to…Henry Flanders. The man who’d asked had to look down at his notes to remember Henry’s name. His fake name. She was sure they knew John Bishop. But she hadn’t pointed that out. She’d done exactly as instructed. She’d told them Henry was hiking in the woods, thinking about his life. Actually she’d told them he was on walkabout until he figured his ass out.
It was the kind of thing Rachel would have said. It had the men walking away quickly.
“I told him they’d come looking for him and that they were obviously federal officials of some kind.” She sat back, sipping her tea thoughtfully. “I wonder if he’s decided to hide somewhere else now that we know for sure the Agency is aware of where he is.”
Michael was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“He didn’t send me a note today. He always sends me something. In email or a text, although I have to remember that his number changes all the time. He’s using burners.”
Michael chuckled. “I’m always surprised when you know so much about the spy stuff.”
“I read a lot.” She did, though much of her knowledge of the “spy stuff” had come from Henry. She’d always thought he’d done meticulous research, had used his training as an academic to answer her questions and make her work easier. Now she wondered what he actually did with his time since he knew probably everything she asked and didn’t need to spend hours looking up the right caliber of a weapon or how to defuse a bomb. He’d probably defused a hundred.
“I think he loves you. I don’t think you’ll get rid of him so easily. You need to be less insecure.”
She sat up and turned to stare at him because that had been rude.
Michael frowned. “You have the judgmental thing down, Nell. I’m sorry. I used to be better at this. Or maybe I just thought I was. You’re feeling insecure, right? You’re mentally going over every reason a man like Henry would have to marry a woman like you?”
She couldn’t deny it. “We were an odd match in the beginning. It’s occurred to me that I would be good cover. Who would think the great spy master would end up with a woman who protests pretty much everything he used to do? So, yes, I look back and wonder.”
“You worry he couldn’t possibly have loved you if he could keep such a big secret from you.”
Nell sat back and realized this wasn’t merely about her. Somehow it was far easier to talk when she understood Michael needed this, too. “He’s a handsome man. I’m fairly ordinary.”
Michael’s head turned, a single brow rising over his eyes. “You’re a lovely woman.”
She was also a realistic one. “I’m not terrible to look at, but I’m not Laura. I’m not a gorgeous bombshell of a woman. I don’t mean to reduce any person to their looks. That’s wrong, but it’s also foolish to ignore that attractiveness plays a part in relationships. I seriously doubt Henry had dated someone like me before.”
“He probably didn’t date at all. I would assume most of his relationships were transactional. It’s pretty common when you’re undercover.”
“Have you worked undercover?”
“No,” Michael replied. “I didn’t do those kinds of jobs. Everything was upfront. At least it was supposed to be. But I guess I can understand that you question everything. I won
der why she picked me.”
Jessica. His fiancée. Her heart ached for him. “Yes, I can understand that. Would it be horribly hypocritical of me to say she likely picked you because she loved you?”
That actually got his lips to quirk up. “Seriously?”
She was well aware of how hypocritical she sounded. But all relationships were different.
“I’m a natural optimist. It doesn’t mean that I can’t have moments of doubt when it comes to myself.” Moments? It had been weeks and weeks. Weeks spent reexamining everything she’d done, every minute of their relationship. “Do you still love her?”
“I guess that’s the hardest part. I don’t know that I ever knew her. If I didn’t know her, how could I love her?” He sighed. “And that’s where you are, too. The difference is Henry is alive and he’s out there. You have the chance to know him if you want to. Jessie…well even if she’d lived, I would have been forced to hunt her down and arrest her. That’s the hard part. I thought we were living one life, but what she did was counter to everything I thought we believed in. Is that what you’re worried about? You think Henry will get back into his old ways now?”
It was a genuine fear. She’d seen him focused on prepping for the mission he was on. She knew there had been a part of him that missed his old line of work. He’d seemed more animated than he had in weeks. He’d been on the phone with Seth quite often, and he tended to go quiet when she walked in a room. She’d read some of the notes he’d left on his desk. Notes with names like Ian Taggart and Tennessee Smith. Ezra Fain and Levi Green.
She wanted to ask which ones were the men he’d worked with, the ones he’d called friends. But she’d hesitated because when she asked, he always told her not to worry and shut the conversation down.
How hard had it been for him to sit at craft fairs and dole out homemade apple cider? He’d spent weeks making dreamcatchers with her. They’d sold them at the annual spiritual reawakening festival. Had he sat there thinking it was penance for leaving his job behind? Or had it made him realize he’d made a mistake and should get back to it?