by Lauren Dane
One of the men hit the pavement, blood spilling from a nonlethal but debilitating slice. The scent of copper hit the air, spicing up the stench of open-pit sewers and garbage.
“Well now, looks like I was right to think I could take you all.” He tipped his chin at the groaning, semiconscious man bleeding at his feet. “There’s one less now. The odds keep getting better.”
It was wrong, she knew, very very wrong of her to be excited and titillated by the way Daniel carried himself just then. Even worse to have her heart speed when with two movements so fast and smooth she barely noticed, there was pain, blood and debilitating injury.
She didn’t care. He was masterful, and it moved her. He protected her because it was his job, yes. But at the same time, she knew it was more for him. Whatever that meant, she wasn’t sure. But being protected by such a scary, fierce man was so sexy she couldn’t find it within herself to feel guilty about it.
“You think you’re smart? Pulling that?” The other man—the one who could have used a bar of soap and some water, the sour stink of his body wafted to her, roiling her stomach as she began to breathe through her mouth—jerked his head, and the others rushed toward her and Daniel.
The intensity of the event brought her images, sounds, scents, but no real concrete impression of anything specific.
Daniel’s hair gleamed as he moved with such a grace of economy she could do little more than stare. Small movements sent men falling to the side, blood darkening clothing and the dirt beneath their feet.
Her own blade rested in her hand, at the ready if anyone got past Daniel, which appeared to be an impossibility as body after body slumped. She watched, not really alarmed, as two men flanked Daniel and one rushed past him to her.
All the years of training came back to her, and she rested her weight on her heels, slicing out and up as she blocked the blow. Or thought she did until Daniel, grim-faced and satisfied, turned with a savage grin.
“You did a fine job. Now let’s get off the street before the authorities arrive.” He reached for her and stopped, grabbing her tunic, pushing it aside to reveal her torso and a bleeding slit in her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He paled, picking her up over her protests, striding back to the safe house without another word.
“I’m fine. Really. I didn’t even notice he’d got me with his knife until you pointed it out.” She clung to him, loving the scent of male sweat and adrenaline all over his skin. She buried her face in his neck, glad he didn’t pull away or try to tell her how bad he was for her.
The sounds around them fell away as he carried her, seemingly effortlessly, up three flights of stairs and into their room.
“Next time you get hurt, tell me immediately.” He put her on the bed, one he’d refused to share with her since they’d arrived, and moved to run a bath.
“How was that not immediately? They’re still bleeding on the street; it’s not as if I waited hours. In any case, I don’t think it’s a problem, Daniel. What’s your last name anyway?” She pulled the tunic and undershirt off, wrinkling her nose when she noticed all the blood.
“Keep still!” He moved back to her and began to remove her clothing. Like she was going to protest? He slid his hands all over her feet and legs, looking for any more injuries. She tried not to gasp or arch, but she’d never felt anything like this, his big hands all over her body. Her breathing sped as a peculiar sort of lethargy set in. How was it possible to feel both things at once? And yet she did.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked as he picked her naked body up and put her gently in the warm bathwater. He began to clean her up, rinsing her off, tending to the wound on her side, which had been, as she’d tried to tell him, pretty minor. Not that she was thinking very clearly as his hands romanced over her naked, wet body.
“I’m fine. I swear to you. Daniel, you stopped seven of them. Seven. That’s remarkable.”
“Not eight.” He moved his gaze from her side to her eyes. “Not eight.”
She sighed, holding his face between her hands. “You’re remarkable. You blocked two at once, even knocked him sideways. If you hadn’t done that, I’d have been hurt far worse. You saved me. You’ve been saving me.”
His eyes deepened in color, darkened to a stormy green, the brown of the prior day having worn off. The moment, despite her silly chemical attraction to him, sliced into her, the pleasure of it nearly pain. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t imagine—” He broke off, shaking his head.
She stood before him, looking down at this epic male specimen kneeling at her feet. Water caressed her skin as she did, as she watched his gaze slide up her body like another caress, one she’d been waiting for since she took his hand that first time as they fled.
“This shouldn’t be.” So much emotion in that whispered sentence. She should feel bad that she’d been breaking down all his defenses against her, but she didn’t. She gloried in it.
She stepped from the tub, reaching for a towel, but he was there before she could begin, drying her off instead, his gentle treatment such a stark contrast with the man outside, the man who carried death like another blade secreted on his body. He laid a bandage against her skin, wrapping linen around her torso to hold it there.
It was the contrast that set her on fire. The way he could take life with such depth of concentration and skill but dry her off and bandage her wound without even a twinge made her feel special to evoke such care from a man like him.
He tried to turn away, but she stepped in his path, dropping the towel. The room was cool, and her skin rose in gooseflesh, her nipples beading, and not just because of the temperature. Daniel looked at her, looked at her nipples and a groan escaped his mouth.
She had the sense of walking a very thin line. If she made the wrong move, he’d find his control again, and she didn’t want that. She wanted him to let go, wanted him to take her.
The door was locked, his security measures were all in place. The bed, the bed she’d been alone in the night before because he’d insisted on sleeping in a chair near the door, was right behind her, so she held her hand out. Not to offer, but to take. She grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled, surprising him, toppling him onto her on the bed. Which was slightly painful because despite her cut being minor, it was still a cut and he was, oh my, he was so deliciously solid the pain seemed to recede as she lay there.
“Damn it, Car-Carrie. I’m going to hurt you.” He tried to roll off, tried to see if he’d harmed her, but she wouldn’t allow it. She knew if she let him slide back into caretaker mode, she’d never have him.
And she wanted him so much every cell in her body ached with it.
Instead she rolled up to her knees, pulling his tunic and undershirt off. “You’re not even bruised,” she said, taking in every inch of his exposed upper body. She drew her fingertips along the scars on his chest. “What happened here?”
“Incendiary device blew as I was dealing with its creator. I have scars; he’s dead. Carrie, you have to stop. You’re hurt and you’re naked. This combination is not something I can work with.”
That he said it as he drew his palms from her hip bones up her sides clued her in. His hands on her left her brain addled, but not so addled she didn’t crave more.
“You’re bluffing. You want this, too. I know you do.” Taking a chance, she leaned in, sliding her breasts along his chest. It backfired, of course, as it felt so ridiculously good she nearly fell over. “That’s, oh, gods, that’s beautiful. Is it always like that?”
Hands that had been restraining now pulled her closer. “No. No it’s not.” She heard the anguish in his voice and wanted to weep with joy when he allowed himself a brief kiss at her breastbone.
“More.” She tugged, and they both fell back onto the bed. She looked into his eyes. “Be with me, Daniel.”
“I’m going to hurt you.”
“I told you, it’s just a minor cut.” She tried to undo the waist of his trousers, but he put a hand over hers to st
ay the action.
“Not just that. Everything. You are not meant for a man like me.”
“Please! A man like you how?”
“You are a princess. You’re soft and feminine and you deserve to be cosseted. In case you haven’t noticed, I kill people.”
She waved a hand. “For princesses. And thank the gods you do, or I’d be dead. I would venture to say many more people would be dead if you weren’t a killer. As for the rest? Why can’t you cosset me? And who says I want to be cosseted anyway? You can’t just leave me this way. I feel all knotted up; I need you to fix it. I can pleasure myself. I have, every time you leave the room, and it is not enough.”
“Why do you tell me these things?” he muttered, toeing his boots off.
“So you’ll take your pants off?”
He jerked to a stop and shook his head at her. “Not as innocent as you appear.”
“I’ve been begging you to help me with that! Daniel, what if I die tomorrow, and I have never been with you? Never had you inside me?” She sent him her best face, the most pitiful one that almost always worked on others when she was growing up.
“You’re a menace.” He shoved his pants down, and she exhaled sharply at the sight of his body so boldly exposed to her view.
“You’re breathtaking.” Scrambling from bed, she pressed herself to his body for long moments, just soaking him in, skin to skin. He groaned again, kissing her temple, his fingers digging into her ass to haul her closer. She tried not to smile her triumph but failed. Her amusement melted away at the wonder of his body against hers.
So much sensation! So much feeling. Her head tipped back, and he feasted on her neck. How long had she dreamed of what this would be like? And how much was reality far better and more overwhelming than what she’d imagined?
His hands were big, sure as he cupped her ass. He was so much bigger than she was. Normally, back home, a man like Daniel would have scared her, but this one was so delicious she couldn’t seem to get enough.
He shook just a bit, more like vibrated as he kissed over one shoulder and to the hollow of her throat. He wanted her so much he had to rein it in or risk scaring or harming her.
He shouldn’t be doing it, he knew. Shouldn’t be giving in to his nearly overwhelming desire to kiss and touch every part of her. But it was too late for that. Once he’d seen that slice, once he’d come out of the haze of worry that she’d been harmed, she’d been naked. And wet. And like a siren, she beckoned him, and he couldn’t resist her any longer.
Her taste was just like her: spicy, sweet, complicated. He swirled his tongue in the hollow of her throat, licked over the delicate edge of her collarbone. She arched, made soft sounds of need as he struggled to hang on and give her pleasure.
His inner conqueror wanted to storm the gates, to thrust inside her, rut on her until they were a sweaty heap. She wasn’t ready for that just yet; he knew it even as need crawled through him like broken glass.
Lowering her to her back, he secured her wrists above her head, grasping hard enough to keep her still, but not hard enough to harm. What a picture she made there, arched, her pale skin flushed with pleasure, her body more lovely than he could have imagined. Desire blurred her eyes, brought a fever gloss to them, but the mischief remained. That had surprised him about her at first, the way she teased when he’d least expected it.
“I want to touch you,” she gasped out as he kissed the soft spot just beneath her ear.
“I like you in my control. Keeps you out of trouble.”
She arched, rolling her hips to grind against his already aching cock, and they both moaned. Hers was surprised pleasure.
“You are trouble, Daniel.” She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with trouble of her very own.
“So my mother and sisters tell me.” He slid his body down hers, loving the way it felt, loving how those bright eyes of hers clouded again, hazed with pleasure.
“I can’t possibly fuck you if I don’t know your last name,” she gasped out when he let go of her wrists to slide his palms down her arms, down to her breasts. The prettiest breasts he’d ever seen. Heavy and large, though the rest of her was lithe and slim. Oh, the fantasies he’d had about them, about sliding his cock between them, tasting them, touching them.
He should have lied. Told her the name he used on assignments, but she’d called him Daniel. She was naked, giving herself to him so honestly he couldn’t pretend with her. “Haws.” To ensure she didn’t follow up, he licked across a pebbled nipple, and if she had another question, she swallowed it on a delighted gasp.
“Please. Please be in me.” She writhed, driving sense from his brain.
“It’s not that simple,” he said around a nipple. “I can’t just shove my cock into your pussy. You need to be wet, prepared so I don’t hurt you.”
He laughed at her pout and annoyed snort. “Trust me when I tell you this part is fun. The making you ready part entails an orgasm before fucking.”
She blushed, the heat of her skin against his more than a tiny bit distracting.
After he’d paid homage to her nipples, licking, sucking, biting, he continued to kiss his way down her belly, smooth as the softest silk, before settling between her thighs. She tried to close her legs, but his shoulders made that impossible.
“Are you still with me, sweet?” He looked up the magnificence of her body and into her face.
“You’re going to l-lick me?”
He sent her a mercenary grin. “More than once. I’m going to bury my face in your pussy, licking, sucking, tormenting your clit until you come all over me.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parted as her breath sped and she nodded. “Oh. I’ve never done that.”
Good.
He spread her open, loving the way she looked, desire darkened, glistening and swollen. All for him.
Her muscles tensed, and he petted down her thigh a moment. “You’re beautiful here just like everywhere else.” She was, gods, she was, and it peeled away layer after layer of his defenses. She left him exposed in a way he wasn’t comfortable with and yet began to crave.
A long, gentle lick stilled any further protests from her, and he laughed inside.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the sight of his head, bent over her pussy as he paid it homage. Each time his tongue swept through her, she melted just a bit more. Warm, languid ripples of pleasure broke over her again and again. What he did devastated her in all the best and most frightening ways.
This, this licking and ministering to her with his mouth was intensely intimate. So much trust there to expose herself to him like that and for him to take; that’s what got her most. She offered herself up, and he didn’t rush, didn’t ravish her, he tested, tasted, enjoyed every moment. Daniel Haws savored her.
It was so beyond her ability to grasp, what he made her feel. Climax approached, sinuous and white-hot, it struck when he slowly sucked her clit, something she’d never imagined before but now surely couldn’t be expected to live without. She’d heard women refer to screaming when they came and had never understood the phrase. Sure it felt good to orgasm, but so good you screamed?
She understood it as pleasure barreled through her, drowning her until the sensation had such an edge she lost her moorings and a sound, deep from her gut, tore from her mouth so loudly she was sure people across the courtyard had heard it.
She hoped they had, as she lay in an exhausted and utterly sated heap. She wanted it known just what he’d done to her. Daniel kissed her hip and then moved to take her mouth. She hesitated, knowing where he’d just been, but who was she to resist him?
The result left gooseflesh, a tangle of taboo, of desire, of satiation, she tasted herself, but it was on him, so it was more.
“Am I ready now? For the fucking part?” she asked, eyes still closed as she drew lazy circles on his forearm.
“Already? Did I misjudge your reaction when I ate your pussy?”
“Oh, that’s a term I’m not sure how I f
eel about. On one hand, it’s spectacularly dirty, and with you, dirty makes me feel all tingly and warm.”
He laughed, kissing her chin.
“On the other hand, it seems vulgar. Which is probably why it sounds so dirty, which is why I like it, so never mind. I’m all right with it. Really all right with it. It might be my favorite thing ever.”
His grin was something she hadn’t seen from him yet, something she’d never seen directed at her, ever. The smug male grin, the one that says he knows what he’s done, and he likes that it’s made you all silly.
“We should wait.”
She sighed at his half-hearted attempts to protect her virtue. This called for action on her part. Reaching down, she grabbed his cock. Cock. She liked the word; it made sense, she thought as she grasped it, hard, feral, proud. His pulse beat against her palm, the way he totally gave up arguing with her once she’d slid her fist down over him.
“I’ve seen this. Not your cock, um.” She panicked as she remembered she had seen his cock when she’d watched him masturbate several days before.
He opened his eyes, knowing she was hiding something. His muscles coiled, and it made her sort of dizzy. This was totally how women became addled with men. She got it now, but the trap was sprung! Even knowing this, even knowing utterly silly things like muscles made her loopy and giggly, she couldn’t bear the idea of not having him make her feel that way.
“You’ve seen what?” The voice was indolent, but she heard the steel beneath.
“You’re very bossy.”
One eyebrow rose imperiously. “I’m bossy? You’re ordering me to fuck you. Who’s bossy?”
She couldn’t hide a grin. “I never denied I was bossy, and you will fuck me, Daniel Haws. I demand it, and you’re just a . . . a tease if you don’t.”
“Indignation suits you,” he murmured, stroking the backs of his fingers down her body, over each nipple until she forgot what she’d been talking about. Until he reminded her. “You’ve seen what? A cock in your hand? My cock?”