by Skye Warren
“Face up or face down?” I asked mildly.
She had expected me to refuse. Now her surprise had nowhere to go. “Face up,” she murmured. “I want to see that beautiful cock pointing at the ceiling.”
That beautiful cock definitely liked the idea of being watched by her. It throbbed with painful arousal as I climbed onto the bed and lay on my back. My time in the army had demolished any sense of modesty I might have had. Even before then, in foster homes, we were typically operating with too many kids to a bathroom. I didn’t get embarrassed. I wasn’t scandalized to have flashed my bare ass to a woman I didn’t know well. Except when I turned to look at her, the heated approval in her eyes warmed me from the inside out, turning my blood to molten desire and making my cheeks flush.
She smiled. “You like this.”
I grunted my assent.
“No, I mean, you really like this. Being told what to do in bed.”
The thought jolted me more than her command had done. Did I like being told what to do? Probably any military guy had a bit of a masochist in him. Physical training could be brutal, and the political maneuvers and mind games were even worse. But that was my professional life. Not my sex life.
Slowly shaking my head, I said, “I like being with you. I’m not too particular on how we do it.”
Her grin was knowing. “Whatever you say. It just so happens that I am particular, so you won’t mind if I run things, will you?”
I snorted. Oh yeah, she could control me six ways to Sunday. “Whatever you say,” I repeated.
Her eyes flashed with pleasure. I thought she shivered, even though she had on her clothes—unlike me. But then she straightened, reverting to the aloof vibe I didn’t buy for a second. She crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside me. My cock perked up, pointing to the ceiling exactly as she’d ordered it to.
Neat trick. I wondered what else she could make me do.
Her nails scored over my thigh, abrasive and ticklish all at once. I tensed. She pushed my thighs apart, and after the briefest hesitation—Jesus, this was hot—I spread my legs. Kneeling between them, she propped her chin on her fist and examined me. I felt like an object. An interesting, beautiful object. A zing of desire traveled straight down my cock and into my balls.
She tapped her chin. “Let’s see what we’re working with here.”
We would be working with a spent cock if she kept looking at me that way. My body was ready to explode and she hadn’t even touched me yet. It came to me then, how dangerous she could be. Great sex was one thing. Falling for a girl was something else. Both at the same time might be the blow from which I wouldn’t recover.
Her forefingers lined up on either side of my cock, running from the base to the flared head. There may as well have been a ruler in her hands. The little smile on her face didn’t let me feel too nervous about how I measured up. Her fingers slid back down, dragging the skin, making me gasp at the sensation, flesh pulled taut and exposed. Then her thumb brushed right over the tip.
“Ahh, God. Not there. Not yet.” My body trembled with the force it took to stay still and flat on the bed.
“Did I touch a nerve?” she asked with feigned innocence.
“Every single one,” I muttered.
She laughed. “I like your honesty.”
Hmm, who appreciated honesty? People who had been lied to. Or people who were lying. I filed that away for future consideration.
“Honestly, I want to see your body. I want to touch you.” The words came out hoarse, but I didn’t care. The throbbing erection between us already gave away how much I wanted her.
Her gaze was considering. “All right, soldier. Let’s play a game.”
My stomach sank. Why did I get the impression I wasn’t going to like this? Or maybe I’d like it too much?
“The game works like this. I’ll ask you a question. For every one you get right, I’ll take off an article of my clothing. Whatever you see, you can touch.”
“And if I get it wrong?”
Her hand grabbed my balls before I could slam my legs shut. She twisted, and I jerked against her—then froze. Though she wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure me, I was definitely sweating the pressure. If she had been really hurting me, I could have dislodged her. There were a hundred ways to do so. But I wouldn’t risk her getting hurt. And more importantly, I wanted to play this game. Whatever you can see, you can touch. Hunger was a fierce ache in my gut, to see all of her, to touch her everywhere.
“If you get it wrong,” she said mildly, “then you get punished. You’re in the military. I’m sure you’re used to punishments.”
She hadn’t released the vice on my balls, and I was panting now. “Sure, I can scrub the floor by hand if you want.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Her eyes sparkled with wicked intent. “Bent over and naked. It’s a very vulnerable position. It’d give me great access to your ass.”
Jesus. My heart rate kicked into double time. What was she going to do with my ass? “Uh—”
“Shhh, don’t worry about that. Because I know you’re going to be a very good boy, aren’t you?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
As if those were the magic words, she released me. I slumped back onto the bed, relieved and massively turned on. Unnaturally turned on, as if she had sprinkled pixie dust on my overdue cock. A blowjob—even a glorious one—wasn’t going to cut it. I needed a long, hard fuck. And then I needed to do it again, and again, until we were both slippery and sated and blissed out on pleasure.
“First question. This one has three parts—name, rank, and serial number.”
Surprise ran a live wire through my body, but I managed to hide the worst of my reaction. It was like getting kicked in the gut and falling back into three weeks ago, neck-deep in the cartel, under constant threat of discovery and torture.
I told myself she had just seen too many action flicks. This was her way of getting to know me. Or maybe she just wanted a little rough play in the bedroom. Okay, judging from the way she twisted my balls, a lot of rough play.
“Clint Adams. Specialist.” I rattled off my serial number, ignoring the twinge of unease. This was hardly confidential information. Any old girlfriend would have had access to that information if she’d looked at my papers. Of course, Della wasn’t my girlfriend.
And there was too much intent in her eyes for me to write off her interest as random curiosity.
“Your turn,” I said gruffly. “Pay up. Let me see you, sweet girl.”
With a smirk, she slipped off her socks. “Here you go.”
The little cheat. I gestured with my hand. “Pay up. Let me feel them.”
Her gaze turned worried. “You aren’t going to tickle me, are you?”
“Of course not.” I waited until she sat scooted sideways and slid her foot into my palm before adding, “Unless I don’t like your question.”
She tried to yank her foot away, but I wouldn’t let her. Her stern expression didn’t fool me. I wanted to kiss the little line between her eyebrows, smooth away the stress on her forehead. I wanted to shove my fingers inside her pussy and rub her clit until the only expression on her face was rapture.
I couldn’t touch that part of her, though. Only her feet.
So I focused on them, tugging her so that she was fully reclined, both her feet in my hands. They were small feet, delicate feet to match the rest of her body. Still, I knew how much she must stand on them with her job.
I pressed hard against the insole with my thumb, thoroughly enjoying the soft moan she emitted. I took it as a challenge and caressed her foot from the tips of her toes to the curve of her heel, teasing out more sexy sounds.
“Enough,” she gasped, and I wanted to argue. I wasn’t nearly done with her feet, but I wanted to see other parts more, so I released her.
She struggled to get her composure back, and I did nothing to help her. Seeing her primly walking down the aisle had turned my crank, but wa
tching her eyes roll back and those plush lips part—yeah, I was getting more of that. Even if it meant playing by her rules. Even if it meant breaking them.
“Next question?” I prodded.
“How…how long? How long have you been in the military?”
Shit, another probing question? She chose that moment to probe me—literally—in the shadowed cleft beneath my balls. I strung up tight and let out a strangled sound. She’s distracting you. Protective instincts knew what was up, but god-fucking-damn it, she was really good at distraction. Really good when her forefinger teased the puckered hole, threatening to push inside but pulling back instead. I didn’t know if the tightness in my chest was relief or disappointment.
“Three years,” I ground out.
Her next question came immediately. “And before then?”
“Two items.” Only when she sighed and nodded did I say, “Before that I graduated high school. Foster parents asked me to leave since they weren’t getting money anymore, so I enlisted. Been there ever since.”
She nodded as if I’d confirmed something she suspected. I didn’t want to think about what that might be, so I tugged on the soft, stretchy hem of her shirt. “Off.”
“Ooh, so you do know how to give orders.” She winked, and I made a low growling sound I hadn’t even known I was capable of. Sure, I’d ordered a girl around before. I’d spanked her ass before, but only if she asked for it first. Sex had always been a respectful and obliging sort of exercise—one that ended in an orgasm, so who was complaining?
She pulled off her shirt, exposing the pale expanse of her chest and abdomen. A black lace bra covered her breasts, though it enhanced rather than restricted my view.
I waited with my breath locked up tight. Reach back, undo the clasp. “Let me see those pretty tits,” I gasped.
She grinned. “I love how eager you are.”
So of course she did the opposite thing. Of course she wiggled on the bed and scooted out of her denim shorts, revealing a matching pair of black panties that made my mouth water. The glimpse of her ass made my fingers twitch to touch it—and I could now. I could run my hands along legs that went on and on.
Her skin was like silk and the edges of her lace panties as rough as sandpaper. The contrast made me greedy. I slipped two fingers underneath the hem, wanting more, needing her, and she dug her nails in where my thigh met my groin.
“Bad,” she said imperiously. It might as well have been a rolled-up newspaper slapped on my nose.
Humiliation warred with arousal. Goose bumps spread over my skin like wildfire, like rain. I was alternately set ablaze and then doused, left chilled and damp and ready to begin again.
With Della, sex became a battle. She fought for every inch and set up barricades around herself so that I’d have to fight too. She drew out every combat instinct I had learned over the past three years—and before that. In the system, you learned early on about simple brute force, about bullies who would beat you up just because they could. I could overpower Della with a twist of my wrist, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to do what I did on an op: infiltrate her defenses and strike when she least expected it.
“God, Della,” I groaned. “Give me more.”
“Then earn it, big boy.”
“Ask me a fucking question,” I demanded. Anger pulsed in my erection, hungry and dangerous. I wanted her to refuse just so I could go over the edge. What would happen next? In every other situation I would back down, I would do what she wanted, but this wasn’t every other situation. Della wasn’t like other women I’d been with. It was almost like she wanted me to get mad at her, and my dick was happy to oblige.
She pulled back at the last minute. I imagined the doctor trembling at this moment, afraid of the monster he had created. Pretending she still had control in the form of a question. “What did you do there? The place you just came from? What did you do?”
Jesus fuck, what did I do? I killed people, that’s what I did. I shot them or slit their throats or choked the life out of them. Is that what she wanted to hear? Is that what she got off on?
The op had been messy as hell and no less bloody than a battlefield, but we’d won. Almost a million dollars in arms confiscated on its way into the US and twenty of their men currently in custody. As for the rest, they were going to turn their remaining guns on each other in the age-old blame game. So why did she fucking care?
“I did my job,” I said, reaching for the scrap of lace that connected her bra in the front.
She jerked out of reach. “Not good enough.”
“It’s the fucking truth. Those were the rules of the game.” It was almost an out-of-body experience as I launched myself after her and grappled her onto the bed. I never did stuff like this. I would never hurt a woman, but she winced before I loosened my grip on her wrists.
She panted beneath me, her eyes shooting sparks. “The rules are whatever I say they are. And that answer wasn’t good enough.”
I snarled—that was the sound that came out of me. She was a witch who had turned me into an animal. I would howl at the moon and stamp my paw in frustration. My dick hung heavy beneath me, bobbing, aching to be inside her. I could nudge her legs apart and push in. I could feel her hot warmth around me even with her shouting no.
She wouldn’t say no.
I tightened my grip on her arms, fury running through my body like a physical pain. “Do you want me to share classified information to play your fuckin’ game? Do I have to violate national security just to fuck you?”
“So what if you do?” she asked, her voice haughty and breathless.
Reaching behind her, I yanked at the clasp on her bra. No finesse, just power. I heard the sound of metal snapping and stretching as the hooks came undone. The straps cut into her arms, leaving white lashes down her skin that faded by the time I threw the bra across the room. She didn’t fight me, even though I broke the rules. Or maybe she just knew me well enough, even in this short amount of time, to know I would follow them after all.
“I infiltrated a criminal organization, an international arms dealer.” That was for the bra. I pushed my fingers into the front hem of her panties and squeezed my fist tight. When I pulled my arm back, the lace came with it. Now I owed her another belated answer, so I gave her the next logical step. I gave her details. “They were in Russia. I was in Russia until two weeks ago. We brought down the organization, their shipping channels. We took their supplies and froze their accounts. They’re dead in the water.”
Her eyes widened, but I was too far gone to think about how a civilian might be afraid. I was too pissed off to care if she wanted to back out. She was naked now, but even without clothes she was only a blur. Pink and cream and a strip of blonde hair down her sex. I plunged two fingers inside her pussy, rough and vengeful.
“I didn’t—” She looked stricken.
“You didn’t say I could touch you here? Why, because I can’t see it? Deep inside where you’re so wet and swollen for me, I can’t see it, but I can feel it.”
Her eyes were wide. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I laughed, the sound hollow and mournful in my chest. “You didn’t hurt me.” God, she was so slender beneath me, so fragile. “You can’t hurt me.”
“Clint, stop. You aren’t like this. This isn’t you.”
I’d never disagreed with her more. In that moment I could only see her skin and the blood of my enemies. I could only see rare moments of kindness and senseless violence. I lived on this line every goddamned day. This was my life. This was me.
“I tell you what, sweetheart. I’ll give you one more answer for free, before I fuck this pretty pussy of yours.” I twisted my fingers inside her, rubbing the pad along her wall until she cried out. I wasn’t sure she could even hear me anymore, and maybe that was for the best. “What I said before, that’s only what the US government knows about. There’s something else, something they don’t want to know about, something no one can know about.”
&nbs
p; “What?” Her eyes were glazed, and I brushed my thumb over her clit to make it worse.
“That’s right. It’s dangerous and it’s technically illegal and it’s mine. That’s who you’re fucking right now. A goddamned traitor.”
Even though I had done it for the good of the country, that was what I’d be labeled if shit went south. The list could start an international conflict that would mean more bloodshed. My commander was bound by a million and one restrictions not to act on that list, not to even acknowledge its existence. The only person who knew I had this list was James. I would figure out some way to get the list into the hands of the right officials.
Of course, it was supposed to be a secret.
It pissed me off that I had confided in this woman, that I’d let her lead me around by my dick. It pissed me off that she pried into things she shouldn’t know about, shouldn’t care about. It pissed me off that she kept secrets from me. So I made her pay for it by pushing inside her without any warning, by stretching the walls of her pussy with my cock until she gasped and clenched and shuddered in my arms.
“Clint. Oh, Clint.” Jesus, she sounded sad. It made me want to hide her away and cheer her up. It made me want to drag her to my cave and dress her in furs. I settled for giving her an orgasm, angling my cock to hit that spot that made her moan.
I thrust inside her, my hips pistoning like mad. Her hot flesh wrapped around me like leather pulling tight. That was how I saw her: dark and slick and rising from the ashes. So wet without any barriers—no condom. Shit. But she couldn’t have pushed me away at the moment. Nothing could have torn my cock from her thirsty, gripping cunt except her soft cries of ecstasy. Even then I kept going, grunting on every downstroke—harder, deeper, around the moon and back again. I managed to pull out right before I came in a splash on her belly, come pooling in her navel, creamy and white, a milky reflection of all that I’d lost.
Chapter Seven
Della