She took in his horrified expression and fell off him in a fit of giggles.
“You’re so appalled,” she gasped, hand clutching the smooth plane of her naked abdomen. “Oh my God. Such a prude.”
Holding back a grin, he rolled her to her back and said as sternly as he could, “No wonder you enjoy faffing about on that pole. It reminds you of shagging in public.”
“Hey,” she said with a light push to his chest. “It’s not faffing about if it keeps me in shape.”
Günter slid his gaze down to her toes and back to her face. “I suppose you’ve got me there. Not an ounce of faff on you.”
The pun drew a pained groan from her lips, but she grinned up at him. “If you do your job properly, I won’t need that bloody pole.”
He cleared his throat and swallowed his smile, desperate to look serious.
“Young lady,” he said, leaning in to nuzzle her neck, “are you questioning my work ethic?”
“Never,” she breathed, cupping him with her hand and squeezing gently.
“Roll to your side,” he directed, his cock throbbing sweetly under her attentions.
She complied and he drew her back against him with his forearm along her middle. Wriggling her bottom against his erection, she crooked her leg and hooked her ankle over his thigh.
“That’s right,” he praised, gazing down at the lovely landscape of creamy flesh.
He took in perfect breasts, high and pink crested with nipples puckered so tight he could almost feel how their beaded hardness pulled at sensitive nerves. Shapely thighs hid a strength he knew would carry her above him as she rode him for as long as they both pleased. And at the apex of those thighs, below the sloping dip of her belly, he found a nestled wonderland of sweet, silky folds he’d never tire of exploring.
Curving the band of his lower arm around her middle, he dipped the fingers of his opposite hand into her pussy, drawing out her cream and spreading it around her pussy. She moaned and tossed her head back against his chest as he slipped his finger along the seam of her sex.
“So sweet,” he said, and prepared to delve into her recesses once more. “Hold yourself open for me.”
With nimble fingers, she parted herself for him. The slick sound of her separating lips drew his balls tight to his cock—sending blood through his shaft in a rhythm he knew she felt against the soft cushion of her ass.
“Don’t move,” he said. “Not one bit.”
One lubricated finger, slick with his saliva, probed the bud of her anus and she breathed in sharply. Pleased she hadn’t moved, he teased his thumb into her pussy at the same time he slid his index finger through the tight ring of muscle at her backside.
“Günter,” she gasped, and he knew her mind fought to make sense of the competing sensations overloading her nerve endings.
Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her wet, heated flesh and plunged again, firmer this time. “Like it?” he asked, and when she nodded he rewarded her with a harder thrust into her twin channels.
“Gun,” she screamed, and her flesh fluttered sweetly around his finger and thumb.
“That’s right, sunshine,” he said. “Touch yourself. Touch yourself and come for me.”
He watched, transfixed as his glistening thumb retreated and delved anew, piercing her entry to the rhythm she set with the pad of her two fingers on the nub of her clit.
“Suck them. Wet them,” he told her, knowing the lubrication would increase her pleasure.
She tilted her head to look up at him as she popped her fingers in her mouth. Her wide-eyed gaze almost undid him. Pre-cum leaked from his cock, creating a slick, sticky trail along the crease of her ass. He slid along her flesh with a firm thrust that made her gasp.
“Hang on tight,” he gritted. “And come with me.”
Somehow—he didn’t know how—he managed to coordinate the plunge of his thumb into her pussy, the see-saw of his finger in the tight seal of her anus, and the slide of his cock along the pillow of her bottom, as Jenny circled the bead of her clit and bucked beneath him. With their increasingly frantic rhythm, he knew she wouldn’t last, and neither would he.
Her fragrant juices wet his thumb and her thighs, nestling into the vee of his fingers. Her bouquet—musky and sweet, with the hint of roses—blanketed him in visions of innocence and sin, summer and winter, absolution and covetous need. Until he lost himself in it. In her.
Chapter Thirteen
“The money is in the case,” Ian said, laying a gleaming leather briefcase on the kitchen table.
Günter nodded. He knew the drill.
It was half past three in the morning, and they were due to leave in forty-five minutes for the airport where they’d emerge from a private airplane hangar, supposedly fresh off a redeye from New York. With Simon already in London, it’d be only Günter and Jenny in the car from the airport to their hotel.
“You briefed Ms. Ainsley on the drop points?” he asked, thumbing the case open with a quiet snick. If they came up with any intel, she’d need to use some errand as a pretext to get a coded thumb drive to MI-5.
“We did.” Ian’s dark eyes pinned him with a pointed stare. “And you did what you had to do?”
“You already know I did,” Günter said, checking the lining for tracking devices or other devious MI-5 tricks that might get him killed if discovered by the wrong people. “But I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want to.”
“So long as you can act the part,” Ian warned.
It was Günter’s turn to give a hard look. “She gets so much as a hangnail and I’ll skin you alive before I go after the DG.”
“You need to ice the melodrama,” Ian said. “Neither you nor I need another Dublin.”
Günter slammed the case shut.
“Whose bloody idea was it to bring her in on this in the first place?” He jabbed his one-time friend in the chest with two fingers. “You know me best. Was it your idea to use her as leverage?”
Façade unexpectedly crumbling, Ian slid wearily into a chair and slumped forward to drop his head in his hands.
“It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” he said into his palms. “I don’t know why they decided they wanted her too, but she was supposed to be kept safe in the original plan.”
Fear jabbed at Günter’s gut. “Look at me.”
Ian dropped his hands to the table and Günter sat across from him to study his face. He should have seen it sooner. The man hadn’t slept in days.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Ian threw his head back and groaned.
“I couldn’t answer that question even if I knew.” He dropped his chin and looked Gun in the eye. “Which I don’t.”
“So you think it’s a…” Günter rubbed his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his right hand, as he searched for an angle. “A setup?”
“I honestly don’t know, mate.” Ian shook his head. “You were right when you said something didn’t add up. And there’s enough anger over Dublin still that I wouldn’t put it past 5 to send you upriver.”
“Can’t you give me anything here?” Günter asked, desperate for even the most meager candle to light the dark hole he and Jenny were walking into.
“There are things I can guess, but nothing I know. Not for certain. Mentioning them wouldn’t be worth the trouble—to you or to me—yet.”
Günter went very still. “How could you let them do this to us?”
Regret passed like a shadow over Ian’s face. “If there’s one thing Dublin taught me it’s to follow protocol.”
Years of distance collapsed, and Günter recognized the guilt Ian harbored. It gnawed at them both, nearly snapping the thread that connected them to the rest of humanity, and to each other.
“It was on me, mate. Not you…” Günter said finally. “My team. My cock-up.”
Ian stood and looked away. “Make sure Ms. Ainsley’s ready to leave. I’ll meet you in the drive.”
Staring after Ian, Günter wondered that
the events of his past had led to this moment. Just when he’d found love, it seemed predestined that a surreal imitation of the nightmare he’d created in Dublin would be revisited upon him by a vengeful god. As if he hadn’t hated himself enough. Done penance enough. Now he stood to lose the one person he’d counted on to make him feel alive and whole for so long. Whether she knew it or not, Jenny was his life’s blood. He’d do anything—risk anything—to make certain he didn’t lose her. Even if it meant losing himself. Again.
* * * * *
Jenny fumbled with the clasp of the heavy necklace, cursing when it clattered to the floor.
“Let me,” Günter’s baritone rumbled in her ear.
She jumped.
“All right?” he asked and stooped to retrieve the necklace.
Throat dry, she nodded.
His eyes met hers in the mirror. “Look, you really can back out…”
“No.” She cleared her throat against the tightness in her voice. “I just don’t look the part is all. I don’t want to screw it all up.”
Sure fingers, steady and warm, looped the necklace around her throat and clasped it at her nape before sliding down to caress her bare shoulders.
Their eyes met and held.
“You’re beautiful and…” He leaned down to kiss her neck. “Competent.” Kiss. “And stubborn.” Nip and lick. “And sexy.” Hot breath in her ear. “You make me so hard.” Tongue swirling around her lobe to dip in her ear. “I want you every waking minute, and well into the night.”
A wave of warm happiness culminated in a thigh-clenching flood of desire. When he hadn’t come to her last night, she’d worried their lovemaking had been a one-time affair—something he’d done just because she’d won the bet.
“Gun,” she moaned when his palm slid underneath the red satin of her blouse to steal beneath her bra.
“Mmm,” he hummed along the column of her neck, grazing the flesh with his teeth.
Her hand fluttered up and behind his head to grip his hair while he tweaked and pinched her nipple to an aching hard point.
“Please.” She arched into his hand.
“Your favorite word, other than no,” he teased, but cupped her pussy and gave a firm squeeze.
Jenny sucked air through her teeth.
“The things I’ll do to you…” he promised. “Think on them instead.”
A groan tore from her as he pulled away, but she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw color returned to her cheeks—a previously missing sparkle in her eye.
“Thank you,” she said.
Turning to go, he paused with his hand on the doorjamb. “You were in the papers this morning.”
MI-5 had done a photo shoot with Jenny on a set made up to look like a trendy New York nightclub. Other figures in the background only shadows, she’d stood out in shots that made her out to be much wilder than anyone had known her to be previously.
“What were the headlines?” she asked, not really wanting to know.
“Something to the effect of, It’s always the quiet ones… There are two photos. One of you leaving your office with your brother. The other of you looking high—out of it—glammed up but blitzed.”
“Did it work?” she asked.
“Good girl Ainsley goes wild as brother’s fame fans flame? Of course they’re eating it up,” he said, looking grim. “You knew they would—the parasites.”
Trying not to hate herself for the alter-ego she’d deliberately helped MI-5 create for her, Jenny lifted her handbag from the dresser. “Well. That’s that, isn’t it?”
He nodded and held open the door. “Shall we?”
A heavy silence fell as they made their way into the back of the darkly tinted vehicle. With Ian driving, they exited Oxford’s quaint streets and turned onto the motorway toward London’s Heathrow airport. An hour and a half later, they stood inside a private VIP hangar on the outskirts of the airport.
“We’ve had word Simon made several contacts. Things are going apace,” Ian said, checking his cell.
Jenny played with the clasp on her beaded purse, opening and closing it over and over. Günter covered her hands and she stopped.
A trunk thudded, calling Jenny’s attention to the black limousine. The car had been procured from an establishment known to cater to the White Tiger’s people. A sweep confirmed the vehicle was bugged. Anything they said or did inside would be conveyed to the very people they were trying to chase down. Apparently Simon’s prep work had created interest in their arrival.
“Will you kiss me?” Jenny asked, needing a thread of Günter to hold on to.
“No,” he answered. “You need to dive deep now, Jenny. Find someplace to hide and let that other part of you take the reins.”
Mute with nerves, she climbed into the limo. The driver shut her door and the world grew muted—too quiet—behind the tinted glass. Dim and hushed. Like a tomb. She barely noticed when Günter slid in next to her and the security glass whirred upward to close off the front cab. Intuitively, she understood what Günter meant by dive deep. In reality, she wasn’t sure how to make it happen.
When she finally looked at him, a different man stared coldly back at her. The blocky set of his jaw, the heavy line of his brow, the wicked curve of his lip—almost a sneer—snapped up her head and straightened her spine. Every cell in her body became attuned to his mood. His desires. Because nothing in this life, or perhaps the one after, would be granted without his approval. The Jenny she needed to portray needed him—for drugs. For sexual satisfaction.
The car pulled out of the hangar and took a service road toward London. They’d emerge from a main terminal, their car visible to anyone who’d care to observe them—the intention being to make it easy rather than difficult for them to pick up a tail.
Günter looked at her. Expectant. She needed to begin their argument.
“Do you have anything for me?” she asked.
“Do you have anything for me?” he threw back at her. Arrogant. Assuming.
Curling her lip, she tried to think of every nasty thing he’d made her do in the last two weeks. Instead of the twenty-five pushups he’d demanded after she’d failed a pop quiz on different illegal drugs, she pictured him with his head between her thighs. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat.
“You promised,” she said.
The words came out tired. Almost a whine. Good enough. David Tallis’ sister could be a brat as well as a bitch.
“And you still haven’t paid me for my last.” He sounded bored. Disinterested in her plight.
Her eyes flew open. She sat up. “With the people I get you access to, I shouldn’t have to pay at all.”
“Who said I wanted cash?” His hand went to her thigh. “Are you wearing anything underneath these?”
“No.” Her voice came out deeper, more throaty than she expected.
A lazy finger traced an imaginary line toward her pussy and Jenny’s legs fell open. “Take them down.”
“If I don’t?” she taunted.
“You will.” His hand fell away. “Sooner or later.”
“I could get someone else, you know.”
“And have me rat out your nasty habit to your brother?” He gave a derisive snort. “Not bloody likely.”
Pouting, she complied. Cool fingers slipped beneath the band of her trousers and slid the silk down to pool at her ankles. Warm leather cushioned her backside as Günter used both hands to push her thighs wide.
“Touch yourself. Come for me,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “And you can have this.”
He dangled a tiny bag filled with a granular white substance. Licking her lips, she tried to grab for it. He snatched it out of her reach.
“Uh-uh,” he admonished. “Not until I get my show.”
Dipping her eyelashes in a coquettish glance at his cock, she asked, “What about you?”
“When did I say you could talk?” he asked.
His feigned displeasure s
ent a delicious trickle of fear down her spine.
Back against the door, she brought up her right foot to rest on the seat while her other braced against the opaque partition separating the driver from their compartment, giving Günter an unobscured view of each glistening fold.
His stare fell, heavy and calculating, as her fingertips skimmed the cream from her silky, bare flesh. The controlled heat of his gaze flooded her pussy with a rush of fluid, making her head light and her limbs heavy.
“Fuck yourself,” he said, his reserved tone belying his interest in the show.
Using the index and middle finger of one hand, Jenny parted her pouting lips and flicked her clit with a red-painted nail before sliding the digit to capture an answering rush of fluid. Swirling the moisture around her swollen entrance, she skirted compliance with Günter’s demands until he sounded a low warning.
A sly smile flirted with her lips as she inserted one finger into her aching channel. Full, but not full enough, she added another finger, and another, until the combined trinity stretched her—bumping against swollen tissues with enough pressure to give a promise of heaven.
She panted, fucking herself harder, the sound of her slick fingers filling the hushed confines of the vehicle.
“I want you.”
“Mouth.” He growled the word and clenched the baggie in his fist.
She whimpered, but pursed her lips against a response. Finger poised over the hood of her clit, Jenny glanced at the master of her fate. He nodded once, and she pressed down hard. Hips bucking, foot slipping from the partition, she came with a shattering jolt that left her breathless and boneless.
Minutes later, breathing calmed, she chanced a peek at his crotch. He faced forward, fists clenched, cock straining against the brushed gray wool of his trousers.
“Get dressed,” he said through clenched teeth, and she noticed he’d placed the bag on the seat between them.
“But—”
He shot her a look that had her swallowing down a heady combination of fear and desire before she lifted her hips to draw on her trousers. Musk scented the air, swirling around them both, and she knew even though he’d demanded she cover up he wouldn’t be able to forget the temptations that lay underneath her clothes.
Undercover Lover Page 18