I Spy a Naughty Game

by Jo Davis

  “So your friend helped you through a tough situation. That’s commendable, if a tiny bit self-serving. Did you enjoy being exposed, being fucked in the open?”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t lie. “It was wicked, and I liked it.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said, amused. “But your liaison didn’t stop there. You wanted him again.”

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. How did he take you next?”

  “In my room, on my back with my legs over his shoulders. He wanted to see his cock working my pussy. Afterward, we slept for a while, and then he woke me up, fucked me while we lay on our sides, spooning. That was the last time, and we said as much.”

  “He must’ve been a very good lover.” A dangerous note colored the arousal in his voice.

  “He was, but ...” When he simply waited, she rushed on. “It was just good. As much as I liked him, something was missing.”

  At that he stepped back. The foil packet crinkled and he gently turned her around, backed her into the tiled wall. His golden eyes were feral, his lips curved into a predatory smile, and waves of damp, silky black hair clung to his corded neck.

  “I’ll show you what was missing.”

  She wasn’t a small woman, and yet he lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather. Cupped his hands under her ass and braced her against the tile, impaled her on his cock. Buried himself to the hilt. She gasped, her whole body ignited with a torch.

  “You’re mine, do you understand?” Fingers digging into her soft flesh, he began to thrust. “No more playing with other lovers separately. We play together or not at all. Let me hear you say it!”

  “Yes, I’m yours! And you’re mine, too. Oh!” He was fucking her slow and deep, claiming her body. “I don’t want to play without you anymore. I missed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  She clung to his shoulders, and her lids drifted shut, but he was having none of it.

  “Look at me and know who’s inside you, baby. Who’s making love to you.”

  Had she ever actually stared into a lover’s eyes while he shafted her? No, or she would’ve remembered. Never would’ve forgotten how it felt to be claimed by such a powerful man, his eyes burning like lasers into hers. This feeling of connection, his raw dominance, made her feel desired and safe. Wanton and slutty. All things rolled into one incredible package.

  This was what she’d been missing. All she had to do was place her body in his hands, trust him completely, and he’d show her what it was like to belong to a man, body and soul.

  She finally believed it and wanted it.

  “Make me yours,” she whispered. “Show me everything.”

  “Oh, God. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

  “I want it all, with you.”

  Crushing his mouth to hers, he kissed her with all the pent-up passion he possessed, fucked her like a piston. Drove them higher until she felt the quickening, the knot of electricity exploding in a shower of sparks, lighting every cell in her body.

  His shout joined her cries as he plunged one last time and held himself inside her, cock twitching, filling her with heat. Once the spasms subsided, he set her back on her feet, pulling out with care, and cupped the side of her face.

  “You can trust me, baby. I won’t let you down.”

  Looking into his sexy, earnest face, she smiled. “I know. I won’t let you down, either. So, when will you continue teaching me the ropes, sir? I’m ready to really do this.”

  His answering smile nearly blinded her with its intensity. “After we get some sleep and I get my ass chewed by Michael? What’s left of me when he’s done is all yours.”

  “I can’t remember when I’ve looked forward to anything more.”

  “Me, too, darlin’.”

  For the first time in seven months, she could breathe again. In her heart, she finally knew she’d made the right decision. As if there was ever one to make. She’d always belonged to Blaze.

  And now he was her master.

  Eight

  The anticipated ass-chewing lasted forty-three minutes. Not that Blaze gave a shit. Not when he was on top of the fucking world.

  The woman he loved had truly given herself to him at last. Put her well-being as his partner and sub totally in his hands, without hesitation. Not just I’ll try but I’m ready to really do this.

  Those words were like a gift straight from heaven.

  “Kelly!” Michael barked. “Are you listening to me, goddammit?”

  “Nope. Tuned you out twenty minutes ago.” The news caused his boss to turn an interesting shade of red, and he hoped a stroke wasn’t imminent. “Listen, are you going to fire me or not? ’Cause if you’re not, Emma and I have work to do before we go undercover.”

  Ten seconds. Twenty. Blaze really thought he might have to call Dr. McKay to revive his boss, but slowly the man’s anger seemed to dissipate.

  “No, I’m not going to fucking fire you this time. Bottom line, you disobey a direct order again, and I won’t have a choice no matter how good you are. I have a great deal of respect for you, and I consider you a friend. I’d hoped you held me in the same regard.”

  Okay, the hurt reproach got to him when the yelling hadn’t. Christ. “I’m sorry, Michael. I really am. If it had involved anyone but Emma, I wouldn’t have gone against you.”

  “I know, dammit.” The other man sighed. “I understand, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same, but that’s not the issue.”

  “I know.”

  “Jesus, I have a headache. You’ve got three days to get Foster ready for this assignment, and that’s only because I’m sympathetic to what she just went through. I’m not a complete asswipe,” he said, glancing at Emma. “However, the fact is we need to roll before the weapon is transferred overseas and the president has my head on a platter.”

  “We’re on it,” Emma assured him.

  “Good. Now get the hell out,” he ordered, snatching a bottle of aspirin from the corner of his desk.

  Blaze didn’t waste a second following that particular directive, grabbing his woman’s hand and pulling her out the door. As they walked away he saw her glance over her shoulder toward Michael’s office, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you see how he kept rubbing his left arm and his jaw? I don’t think he’s feeling well.”

  “I noticed. If you were in his shoes, would you be feeling great? Talk about pressure.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. The horrible stress he’s under will ruin his health if he’s not careful.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. All of this, on top of dealing with Maggie’s death alone for the past few weeks. Maybe I’ll call McKay and put a bug in his ear, have him come by and pester the stubborn asshole to get a checkup.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea,” she said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re a genius.”

  He puffed up a little at the praise. Couldn’t help it. “I have my moments.”

  “So what’s next, O Wise One?”

  “Brat.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she giggled. “You got Marty lined up to take your surveillance classes while we’re gone?”

  “He’s all set.”

  “Okay, good. Let’s stop by your room and pack the stuff you think we’ll need for our gig. Then we’ll go home and play unwrap the sub. And I’m not talkin’ sandwich.”

  “And just think—we get to play on company time!”

  “Lucky us.” He liked this easygoing, flirtatious side of her. He could get used to it, real fast.

  In her room, he helped gather an assortment of clothing while she picked a few wigs and plenty of makeup. Everything went into three plastic totes, lids snapped on and ready to go. He carried two of them, Emma the last one, and they were on their way.

  “You’ve got a ton of supplies here.”

  “Never know what kind of disguise we’ll need. It’s best to have an assortment of identities that can blen
d into almost any situation.”

  He knew this, but it was cool to see her confident, in her element. It was a far cry from the vulnerable lady who trembled under his touch, and he loved both sides of her.

  “What sort of disguise do you envision for our role as master and sub when we infiltrate Dietz’s group of backers?”

  She eyed him in speculation. “I’ve been thinking of enhancement rather than full-out change. Like I mentioned before, I’m going to lighten your hair, give it some autumnal tints. Too bad I’ll have to disguise those amazing golden eyes with blue contacts, though. For me, colored contacts, as well, and hair extensions woven in so it appears real and won’t come off if somebody yanks my head.”

  “Simple is best, I suppose. Just don’t cut my hair.”

  “You’ve mentioned that before. I love it long, but what’s the big deal?” she asked, curious.

  “Nothing. I like it shoulder length, that’s all.” A painful memory shoved to the fore, and he beat it down again.

  “From your expression, I think there’s more.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe another time, okay?”

  Thankfully, she dropped the subject, and the trip back to his house progressed with easy conversation. As well as a heightened awareness that they’d soon begin her training in earnest. It meant so much to him that she wasn’t just doing this for the job anymore. She wanted to learn, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

  She was his.

  After stashing the boxes in his garage, they went inside, and he paused in the kitchen, pulling her into his arms and stealing a kiss. A long, slow one that tightened all the right places. “You taste good. At the risk of sounding horribly cliché, I wanna lick you like a piece of stick candy.”

  A hand slid around and squeezed his ass. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  “Mmm, tempting. Business first, however.” Darn it.

  “Party pooper.”

  “Will a beer or a glass of wine make it all better?”

  “Not all better, but it’s a start. Wine, please—a good red if you have some.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  Kissing her cheek, he let go and checked the countertop wine rack, pulling out a bottle. “A nice cabernet?” He held up the bottle for her inspection.

  “Wonderful. You know just what I need.”

  “Exactly what I’m counting on, sweet thing,” he said, giving her a grin, which she returned. They both knew he wasn’t referring to wine. He opened the bottle, poured a glass for her, and fetched a beer from the fridge for himself. “Come sit down and let’s relax while we can.”

  God knows they wouldn’t get much downtime in the next few days or weeks. His lifestyle was intense under normal circumstances. Add an undercover op to the mix and you had a recipe for exhaustion, stress, and sensory overload.

  Drawing her down onto the sofa next to him, he tucked her into his side, and they sipped their drinks companionably for a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness. He wondered how to best broach the subject most on their minds, but Emma dove in first.

  “Have you ever been in a long-term relationship before?” she asked curiously, swirling her wine in the glass.

  Some of the tension left him. This was an easy one. “Never have, not that I haven’t wanted one. Who really wants to be alone forever, right? But it’s tough to find the special person to whom you can honestly say, ‘Good Lord, where have you been, you awesome goddess? Stay with me and rock my world, and we’ll make little goddesses someday.’”

  She giggled. “You’re so full of crap. I’ll bet you’ve had a posse of women who’ve tried to bag you.”

  “You’d be wrong. They always find a fatal flaw and run screaming.”

  “I’m sorry I did that to you,” she said, sobering. “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

  “Never believe you are, baby. You’re here and they aren’t.”

  “I hurt you.” Her hand stroked his thigh, giving him shivers.

  “We both did a bang-up job on each other on that score, so let’s call it even.”

  She was silent for a few moments, and he waited, letting her take all the time she needed to form her questions. The last thing he wanted was to start spouting rules right away and scare or alienate her.

  “So, how heavy are you into the whips and chains thing? Where do you draw the line?” she asked cautiously. “The truth—not some sugarcoated version you think I want to hear.”

  “Of course not.”This was a good start. “My personal taboos are the extreme fetishes—I don’t engage in blood or knife play, golden showers, scat, or bestiality. I’m sure you already knew I wouldn’t participate in any of those scenes, but I like to be perfectly clear. No fake death scenes, either, like asphyxiation. None of those are sexy, and some are downright dangerous.”

  Her jaw fell open. “People really do those things? I don’t tend to think of myself as overly naïve, but sheesh!”

  “Many Doms and subs are into the extreme stuff. It’s not urban legend. There are entire communities built around just about any flavor you want. Me, I was never into being frightened or humiliated.” God knows he’d gotten enough of both growing up, despite his uncle’s efforts to intervene.

  “But how did you avoid placing yourself in harm’s way? You told me you started out as a sub, so you didn’t have any say in what was done to you, right?” Her tone was horrified at the prospect.

  “That’s a common misconception.” Scooting around to face her, he placed a hand over hers in reassurance. “Everyone has to know their own boundaries, what they’re willing to explore in BDSM, or at least be willing to find out. From there, a sub is introduced to a master who’s believed to be compatible with those boundaries or interests. If they like each other, a contract is drawn up that stipulates exactly what will and will not happen between them. I never take on a sub without a contract in hand.”

  “But you started teaching me before I was kidnapped by Dietz.”

  “True, but you hadn’t yet fully committed. I was giving you a taste of what being my sub would be like. The contract is the next step.”

  She nodded. “That makes sense. The contract . . . does it provide for one encounter at a time, or is it open-ended?”

  “Mine are open-ended. If I play with a sub again, we revisit the terms briefly to see if the sub’s needs have changed.”

  Her expression began to brighten as her concerns gradually disappeared. “So it’s not just a wild free-for-all, masters grabbing the poor subs randomly and having their way with them?”

  He laughed at the image. “That’s probably what most people think, isn’t it? No, the reality is much more civilized. The down and dirty comes later, in a safe, controlled environment designed to promote everyone’s mutual pleasure.”

  “Just because both parties sign a contract doesn’t mean a master won’t get carried away, though,” she speculated.

  “I assure you, misconduct on a master’s part is practically unheard of. I’m not saying it’s never occurred, but this is a small community that takes pride in playing safe. Masters come in very distinguishable personality types and kinks, and it’s our responsibility to know our own limits as well as the limits of our subs. We read facial expressions and body language. We use safe words and we know the difference between pushing subs past what they believe they can take and when they’re truly afraid and need to stop a scene.”

  “What type of personality are you as a master? I’m not sure I get that.”

  “There are several indentified types of masters. I’m what’s called a responsive master. I care about my subs and prefer to have a real connection with them. I like to nurture them, bring them to an emotional and sexual catharsis, and comfort them when we’re done with a scene. I use a firm hand, mixing a bit of pain with the pleasure, but without cruelty. Does this sound acceptable?”

  The sudden pucker of her nipples against her blouse, not to mention the dilating of her pupils and quickening of breath, gave him the
answer he wanted. It was still gratifying, though, to hear the words.

  “It sounds exciting, and much different from the stereotype I was carrying in my head.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m still nervous, but a normal kind. I wish I’d sat down and had this talk with you before. If I had—”

  “Uh-uh.” He silenced her with a brush of his lips on hers. “We’re talking now—that’s all that really matters. What’s left is to decide how we play. What turns you on, baby? What do you want from this?”

  She chewed her lip, considering. “I’m tired of living in my rigid, black-and-white world. I want you to show me colors I’ve never seen before. I want to feel beautiful and desired. And I want to trust a lover completely for the first time in my life.”

  “I can do all those things for you, sweetheart,” he said softly, skimming one cheek with his fingers. “The trust has to come from you, but I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t. It’s me letting you down that I’m worried about. I’m not sure what I want sexually or how far I can go. I’m a little nervous, and that in itself is uncharted territory for me.”

  That was quite an admission, coming from the most self-assured woman he knew. “It’s not a problem—part of my job is to help you discover yourself.” He set his beer on the coffee table. “Why don’t I grab a copy of my standard contract and let you read it? Then we can discuss any changes you’d like to make, come to an agreement, and sign if you’re ready.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Nodding, he rose to go fetch the document, barely able to contain his excitement—though somehow he managed.

  It wouldn’t do for his new sub to see her big, tough Dom reduced to a puddle of mush.

  Emma’s hands shook as she read the contract, the implications of which were both overwhelming and terribly arousing.

  From the moment she entered a scene with Blaze, she’d be under his control in every sense of the word. Sure, concessions were made for her safety, as he’d said, but the reality was that she belonged to him. He was her master and as such would enforce a strict code of conduct in public, with consequences for breaking them.