Hidden Agenda

by Bethany Jadin

  This beautiful woman, naked, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, her lips parted in orgasmic bliss, my cock pounding her tight, hot pussy.

  A flush spreads over her breasts and into her neck. Her legs tighten around me and her pussy clenches down on my cock, and I flex every muscle, trying to hold on as she bucks against me. Her juices flow down my shaft and over my balls.

  God, she’s a sight to behold, and I love every sound I’m coaxing from her as she moans, her mouth opening with her breathy gasps as she looks at me, that feral look in her eyes giving way to ecstasy.

  Keep her hands pinned above her, I bring my body back to hers, leaning into her as I spread my legs wider for even more traction, our bodies slapping together in a furious beat.

  Emma’s moans turn to high pitched whimpers and then a long cry escapes. Her eyes squeeze shut, and her nipples harden to stiff points, her thighs shaking against the sides of my abs as she comes.

  My balls tighten at the sight and sounds of her climax, and I know this is it. My knees weaken, and my legs tremble. I come with an intensity that borders on pain, shouting and gasping for air.

  5

  Gunner

  The weightlessness of going airborne hits me as we crest the jump, and Emma squeezes down on her bearhug, but she’s laughing like a mad woman. I hold onto the quad with my thighs, keeping us both planted firmly on the seat as we defy gravity and go sailing. I reposition as we near the ground, but the expensive shocks on this bad boy absorb most of the force of coming to back to the ground again.

  Emma’s still laughing, the sound muffled by her helmet, but it’s beautiful, and I want to hear it all day long. At the end of the practice course, I turn the quad toward my truck for a quick rest before the next round. Part of me doesn’t want to get off this thing, not the way Emma molds to my body. I could take her cross country and never get tired of her leaning against my shoulder.

  And that outfit she ordered? Hot damn. Nothing gets me going like a foxy lady in pink and black leather. And the boots? She looks like an ass-kicker; it’s seriously turning me on. So much so that I need to cool down. I kill the engine, and Emma releases her grip on me. I hop off the quad then help her off before heading straight for the bed of my truck where I have a cooler packed and waiting.

  I dig inside and turn to Emma, displaying two options. “I have a raspberry spritz wine cooler, or this strong-as-fuck wheat ale from the brewpub down on Bowling Street.”

  Emma takes her helmet off and does that fucking gorgeous thing with the whipping of the hair. God, I’m about to melt into a dirty mud puddle over here. She brushes some strands from her face, this hot as hell smile playing across her lips. “Say raspberry spritz again.”

  “Raspberry spritz.” I lisp the tz, and she giggles. I’d do anything to keep her eyes sparkling that like.

  She cocks her head, considering the wine cooler. “What was it you said I was being today?”

  “Ballsy.” I hold a finger up, correcting myself. “Sorry, fucking ballsy.”

  “Oh, good one. I think we’re up to fifty-three vulgarities today.”

  I squint in disbelief. At that rate, I’m not going to make the guys pay very badly for their bet to donate money to charity for every curse I manage while out with Emma today. “Hell, that’s all? I must be losing my damn touch. Shit.”

  She tosses her hair again and runs a finger through it, trying in vain to straighten out the tangles caused by our high-speed adventures. “Well, it hasn’t even been two hours, and we’ve been hitting the track most of the time.”

  “Damn fucking straight.”

  Emma shakes her head with a wry smile. “We have time, you know. You don’t have to fit in all the words right this second.”

  I lift my hands in surrender. “Okay, I’ll talk like a normal human being for a little while.”

  “In that case, I’ll be a little ballsy and try the ale thingy.”

  “Wheat ale,” I remind her and toss the bottle underhand, and damn if she doesn’t reach out and catch it with one hand. A hot woman in mud speckled leather who can catch a beer? Be still, my heart.

  Emma steps closer as she twists the cap off the beer, tossing it into the back of my truck before she props her ass on the fender and stretches her long legs out, crossing them at the ankle. Her lips wrap around the neck of the bottle, and I do my best not to stare. I turn my attention to my own longneck, tipping the bottom to the sky and taking several long pulls to douse the fire.

  I’d told Jude about Emma and I’s... encounter in the coat room last year. Told him right after the Gala. Because, fuck, she was just as hot that night as when I couldn’t keep my hands off her before. I needed Jude to sit me down and do what he’s so good at. I needed it from his mouth — an order to not go after her the first damned chance I got, because sure as shit, as soon as I saw her in that pretty gown at the Gala, I wanted to pick up where we left off.

  But Jude didn’t give me a clear directive. He got quiet for a minute after I brought up the topic, and I could see from the look in his eyes that something was on his mind, but whatever it was, he didn’t say. When he did speak, he just rattled off a line about acting professional. Then he mumbled something about how he can’t tell me what to do when it comes to my personal life. Wasn’t like Jude at all — that man knows exactly what needs doing, who should be doing it, and when. He lives for the challenge of drawing lines in the sand and daring anyone to cross them. The rest of us? We pity the fools who try.

  I lean against the bed of my jacked-up truck, wishing to God I hadn’t promised Jude to keep things with Emma strictly professional. His response made me nervous, like I’d done fucked up by getting frisky with her in the coatroom last year, and all I could think to do was blurt out that it wouldn’t happen again.

  “Think you can take the quad around the track solo this time?” I ask her.

  Her smile is cautious, but there’s a go-get-em light in those eyes. “You think I can handle it?”

  “Of course you can. The power steering on that thing is great. You don’t have to be able to bench press the thing to control it. You can do it.”

  “Maybe I will.” She gives me a playful smile and takes another swig from that longneck. It’s getting real damn hard to keep my mind on anything other than those lips of hers.

  “If you enjoy going fast, you should really let Daniel take you up in his jet. It isn’t one of those huge things. It’s big enough for the five of us, and Jax usually acts as copilot. I’m sure he’d like to take you up.”

  Emma’s attention diverts to my neck. “You’ve got something there,” she says, leaning near me.

  I lift my chin for her. She runs her thumb along the underside of my jaw, and I do my best not to grunt in satisfaction at her touch.

  “Got it,” she says, lifting her thumb with a big clump of mud attached. “Must have snuck under your helmet.”

  Before I know what my body is doing, I put a hand on her hip, thinking how badly I want to kiss those full lips again — just a little taste — a refresher of the coatroom. It’s good to touch her, and I want so much more, but Emma looks down at where my hand rests, and her expression isn’t what I’d call delighted. I silently curse myself. Real professional, dumbass. I pull my hand away quickly and clear my throat. “Thanks. Dirt ends up all sorts of places after a day out here.”

  “I bet,” she says, drawing back from me, returning to her spot on the fender.

  Her words are casual enough, but her eyes look guarded, and her smile isn’t as easy as it was earlier. I think quick, eager to move past my blunder. “You should totally go up in the jet. It’s a blast.”

  “I’m sure it would be,” she agrees.

  Something about the way she says it tells me there’s another part to that reply, so I prompt. “But?”

  Emma fidgets, looking at her beer, her boots, then out to the track where a dozen quads and bikes are hitting the jumps. Her eyes go anywhere but me. “I know you guys are trying to show me
a good time, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m having a blast, but it’s starting to feel like...”

  She drifts off again, and my stomach drops into my boots. Are we suffocating her? Overstepping our bounds? “We’re not trying to put pressure on you to sell to us. Promise.”

  “That’s not it,” she says. “It’s that this kind of stuff — like today, and the other night after dinner, and hell, even at the club — it’s the sort of thing… I mean, I’ve been spending a lot of time with you guys, together and individually, and it’s...” her voice trails off, and then she swallows and looks at her boots. “It’s a lot, you know. It feels like... like dating.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t know that was a bad thing, but her tone seems to imply it is. “We’re just not used to having a woman around, and it’s kinda nice. We don’t mean to hog all your time.”

  “No, I mean it’s just that… I’m a one-man kind of woman. My dating life is a perfect record of serial monogamy.” She tilts her head to look at me from under those long lashes, a hint of a smile on her face at her attempt at humor.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s what most people do, right?”

  Emma’s expression shifts a little, a look of frustration passing over her features. “Sure, but… what I’m trying to say is, I don’t do this sort of thing, you know. This just feels... like I’m leading you guys on, and I’m not meaning to.”

  I give her an easy-going smile. “Well, it’s true that you’re one foxy lady, but we all know this is a business relationship.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she chokes on her beer mid-sip. “I dunno if that’s how everyone sees it.”

  I perk up at that, and Emma’s soft skin turns the most telltale shade of pink. “What do you mean?”

  She waves a hand and gets down the sip of beer with a hard swallow. “Forget I said anything.”

  “Oh, hell, no,” I tell her, pushing myself off the truck. “If one of us did something to upset you, I wanna know.”

  Emma shakes her head. “No, none of you did anything wrong. It’s just me. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble between you guys.”

  “Why would you think that? You’re not causing any trouble.”

  She blushes again, and my mind races back to last night. The chief texted me saying he needed to talk to me about Emma, but I was in the middle of getting all the track-day gear ready and put him off. From the cat-ate-the-canary look on Emma’s face, I have an inkling of what he was going to tell me, though.

  I take a stab in the dark. “Chief putting moves on you?”

  That blush of hers deepens. “You could say that.”

  Ah ha. Jude’s reluctance to order a hands-off command makes a lot more sense now. “Are we talking buying you flowers type of moves, or a coatroom type of situation?”

  She just shakes her head like no way, I’m not telling, but she’s emptying that beer pretty quickly now, so I’m thinking whatever happened was a lot bigger than just some flowers.

  “Come on,” I say, arms wide. “I’m not a jealous guy. You can tell me. You obviously need to get it out.”

  Emma’s pulling at her lips now, looking at me shyly. I have to lean in to catch her quiet tone. “It was a lot more than a coatroom thing.”

  My eyebrows raise. Please tell me she’s saying what I think she is. If Jude went for it, that completely changes the game. I desperately want more details, but she looks mortified at having said anything.

  I decide to lean into the awkwardness and just play it up. “So, you two had a Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo situation, huh? Did the bedroom rodeo, did ya?”

  That does the trick. The embarrassment fades a bit as her expression turns to confusion. “What?”

  “You know, stuffing the taco? The four-legged foxtrot? Loaded the ammo into the cannon? Landed the pogo stick in the shrubbery? Added a banana to the muffin recipe?”

  “Oh my God, stop.” She’s that shade of bright pink again, but at least she’s laughing. “Yes, we launched the cannon, or whatever.”

  Success. I straighten up and finish off my beer. “Right on. Don’t blame ya, I’d do him, too.”

  “What?” Now she’s really confused. “No. That’s… what? I’m serious, Gunner. It really happened. No joking.”

  I reach for another beer. “I know, and I am being serious. Big, handsome, silent type who loves fuzzy mutts? Sign me up.”

  “Fuzzy mutts?”

  “Oh, yeah. He has rescue dogs and foster pups in and out of his penthouse all the time. Total babe and dude magnet right there. I’m just sayin’, I’d play bury the bone with him anytime.”

  “You’re kidding.” Emma’s completely off her game now. She’s standing there with eyebrows furrowed and her jaw a little open.

  “Nope, not kidding — he really does do animal rescue.”

  Emma purses her lips, but I see the hint of a smile. “That’s not what I meant.”

  I give her a wide grin. “I know what you meant. I’m being funny about it, but I’m not joking. And hey, it got you to stop worrying about your session of hide the cannoli, didn’t it? Feel better?”

  She blinks into a state of awareness. “I guess. Wait. I lost track—”

  “I like you. You and Jude glazed the donut. Jude likes dogs. I have a soft spot for guys who like dogs. And now I’m picturing the three of us hiding bones together. Gosh, it’s really simple, Emma — try to keep up.” I roll my eyes in jest.

  “I swear to God, Gunner.” Emma punches me on the arm playfully then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and gives me a shy, curious look. “So... are you saying you’re bi?”

  I shrug. “That’s one way to put it. I’ve never been with a dude without a girl present, but—” I reach in the cooler and offer her another beer, and she gladly accepts “—it can be really hot when the moment’s right.”

  “Really?” The way she asks, it’s more than just curiosity about my orientation — her wheels are spinning, and something about that look in her eye right now has my pulse racing just a bit faster.

  “It’s been a bit, but Jax and I used to share girls back in the day. Blame it on the drinks, call it going with the moment, whatever, but one night he and I got it on, and it was fucking great.”

  She freezes with the bottle poised at her lips. “You and Jax?”

  I shrug nonchalantly. “Sure. He likes dogs, too.”

  My joke is rewarded with another punch in the arm.

  Grinning, I rub the spot. “You’ve got a hell of a punch, woman.”

  Her head is cocked to the side, and her eyes are sparkling now. “Do the other guys know?”

  “About that night? Or the ones after? Nah. We don’t really get into details about things that like, but they know I go for dudes sometimes, yeah.”

  “And they don’t care?”

  She gets this far-away look, and I know she’s picturing it. Hell, thinking back on that night has me getting a little hard, myself. I give her a wolfish grin. “Well… Jax cares.”

  I brace for another punch, but she’s biting her lip in that way women do when they’re thinking private things — naughty, private things. Oh yeah, she thinks it’s hot. That look on her face is priceless.

  “They know from our time in the service that I’m not going to jump anyone in a dark alley just because I think they have a nice ass. Back when we served together, it was naked dudes everywhere. It’s just bro-town out there 24-7 you know? And hell, there’s a bunch of uptight dudes who’d kill me for saying this, but I wasn’t the only one who got a hard-on a time or two in the shower room. So, no, the guys, they don’t care. Actually—” I give my big package a firm cupping and wink “—they’re kinda jealous.”

  She laughs and kicks some gravel at me with her foot, but I keep my palm around my nuts while I swig back another swallow of beer, and it makes Emma’s eyes keep wandering down. She’s curious, alright.

  “So, it doesn’t weird you out that I’ve been with Jude?” Emma asks, her f
ace drawn into an anticipatory wince.

  “Nope.” I hesitate for a beat but decide to lay it out there. Show all my cards. “Or Trigg.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she clasps a hand to her mouth.

  “Don’t worry, he didn’t say anything,” I say quickly. “But Trigg is my boy. I know that look — he has it bad for you. When he got so worried about not hearing from you for a few days, I knew. There’s only one reason a guy stresses that bad — he thinks he’s done fucked up, crossed the point of no return.”

  Emma covers her face with both hands, her fingers rubbing at her forehead and her voice coming out muffled. “This is so confusing. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

  I reach out and take her hands down from her face, keeping hold of them. “It doesn’t have to be confusing. Just… let it be fun. Enjoy yourself.”

  Her eyes are fraught with concern. “It’s too much. Between the offer on the table and all you guys being long-time friends. It’s too complicated, and I don’t want to cause problems.”

  I squeeze her hands. “Hey, don’t worry about us guys. You’re not a problem for us, I promise. We’re grown-ass men; we’ll sort it out. And if you need some help learning to just go with the flow, I bet Jax and I could give you a tip or two.”

  “Oh, really? Or… maybe you wanna give me more than just the tips?”

  “Hell yeah,” I nod eagerly, my pulse racing at the idea of a threesome. “Not gonna lie — I wouldn’t mind getting the two of you in bed together. Not at all.”

  Then I notice the devilish smirk on her face, and I burst into laughter. She grins big when I get her joke.

  “More than the tips, haha — I see what ya did there. That was pretty damn good. You’re my kinda woman, Emma Collins.”

  6

  Emma

  “It’s official.” I raise my shot glass, and Zoey, Callie, and Cora all reciprocate, just as somber and grimly as I. “As of today, I have been shit canned for the first time ever.”

  It took some time for all the paperwork to make its rounds between the HR staff and Disciplinary Committee members and then through the union appeals, but the last signature was added this morning, and I’m officially chopped liver.