The information seemed to be flowing only one way. That conclusion gave them food for thought as the bus came and they rode in silence to the stop closest to Sienna’s house.
Her place was her sanctuary from the world. It was a small, older house, but the person she’d bought it from had updated and restored it beautifully. It occurred to her that she hadn’t ever really brought anyone from her work life here since she’d moved in two years ago. Either too busy or just didn’t want to go outside of work with them.
Once they were inside, Sienna could finally relax. Reflexively, she pulled out her phone to text Tyson…then stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Greg’s voice seemed more intimate, concerned.
“I usually check in with my team when I change locations. But…” She didn’t need to finish. The quandary was clear—it was hard to know who to trust. Her instincts that had so readily accepted Greg were clamoring in alarm at giving the same trust to even her team and partner. Why, she hadn’t resolved yet, but until she’d found out more information, she needed to go with her gut.
She put the phone and her bag down then walked over to sit on the couch. Greg joined her, then held his arm up in invitation. She rested against him, grateful to absorb his strength and support. It helped her to be able to give voice to her fears, to release some of the disillusionment inside her. “Even an hour ago, I would have said that I trusted Ty implicitly. Now? Maybe I’m crazy, but the only person I truly trust is—” She cut herself off.
Greg didn’t make her say it. “I trust you too, Sienna. And I have your back.” He sighed. “My guess is that it’s a stall tactic, that you’ll get the information about the multi-agency task force any day now…after whoever is involved gets a chance to clean up a few things. They can’t hide it forever—just delay the roll-out for a while.”
Sienna nodded. It made sense. There were just too many people involved for it not to become known that there was more than one team at the rodeo.
“Till then we’ll play it cool—have some fun with our secret identities.” He turned so that he was lying back and she was draped across him. He urged her down into a promising kiss, and she took full advantage of her position to straddle him and taste him fully.
Sienna realized she’d been anticipating this since they’d been together at the café. As heady and exciting as their first two encounters had been, she was looking forward to being able to let go and enjoy the moment with Greg completely. She moaned into his mouth as he urged her even closer with his large hands on her ass, then left one hand there while running the other up into her hair.
Circling her hips against his growing erection, she gave back as good as she got while he intensified the kiss, stroking her tongue with his. She sucked on it then relented as he growled and thrust it even deeper.
In a sudden move, he rocked forward and stood, and she wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Bedroom?” he mumbled into her mouth, and she threw out a hand in the approximate direction, loving that he hadn’t wanted to leave the kiss long enough to look around.
There were three rooms down the hall, but it was simple enough to guess which was her room since the door was open and her king-sized bed was visible from the doorway.
Before she knew it, she was on her back on the mattress. She instantly missed his warmth as he straightened and started stripping. When he got to his pants he sat on the edge of the bed and began undoing his ankle holster.
“Going to actually take your socks and gun off this time, Mr DEA?” she teased then kissed his bare back.
“Yep, going for the Full Monty this time,” he confirmed with a shivered reaction to her tracing lips. He carefully laid his gun, still in its holster, on the nightstand—within easy reach, she noticed. “How about you?” he continued, fumbling with his boots before finally managing to get them untied.
“Good point.” Impatient, she worked off her own boots, flung them across the room, then lay down and shucked off her lower garments. With a smirk, she pulled her gun out of the cargo pocket and put it on the opposite nightstand.
“Thought that was a piece. You were a bit lopsided.”
“Hmm.” She pulled off her tops and sent them soaring.
His eyebrows went up. “In a hurry? Or were you faking being so orderly earlier?”
She didn’t reply but smiled slightly as she kneewalked the short distance across to press against him. They resumed their kiss, which had trebled in intensity with nothing between their skin. Greg’s hot shaft was pressed against her leg and she shifted so she could close her thighs around it.
“Ungh.” Greg lifted from her mouth and thrust into the pressure. She explored the dips and swells of his well-muscled back, shoulders and arms while he rocked against her. Then the room tilted as he tackled her to the mattress. He trailed his lips down her chest to her breast and gave it the heady, rough attention with lips and teeth that she was learning to expect from him when he was aroused.
Soon she was gasping and needing him in her. “Fuck me.”
“Yeah,” he groaned and switched to give the other nipple a lick and a promise before lifting up in a push-up. “I hope like hell you have more condoms.”
Sienna scooted partially out from under him, reaching toward the nightstand with his gun on it. He stopped her and she froze. Did he not trust her?
As though he’d read her mind, he leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. “I have longer arms, babe. I’ll let you handle my gun later. Drawer?”
She nodded, relieved. She gave a sudden laugh as he unwrapped it and sheathed himself. “I’ve already handled your gun.”
He grinned at her, and something inside her bloomed with warmth at the open expression. That warmth spread and he urged her over onto hands and knees. “This okay?” he asked, stroking a hand down her back. “Love your tats.”
“Fuck, yes,” she gasped as he trailed his touch down her crack, just teasing at her hole before reaching her damp pussy then delving inside. He replaced his fingers with his cock and entered her. The depth of this position roused her to a fever pitch as she rocked back against him.
He grasped one hip for leverage and pounded into her.
“God!” she cried out when he reached around her with his other hand and rubbed her clit. His motion drove her against his touch again and again until she hit the pinnacle with a moan, going to her forehead and elbows as her strength left her.
“So good,” Greg groaned his approval of the new angle and let loose a last volley of thrusts before stiffening against her. “Fuck.”
Sienna turned her head to the side, her hair sticking to her perspiration-damp cheek. He smoothed it back then dropped gently to cradle her until he was forced to withdraw.
He must have left to do something with the condom, because suddenly he was back, the bed dipping with his weight as he moved in behind her. Sienna relaxed, fully replete and moreover, completely at ease with Greg embracing her from behind. Here in her house, she could be herself, her true self. Not the detective, not whatever role she was playing undercover, but just Sienna the woman.
That was her real secret identity, only known to one person—the man she had at her back in the investigation and in her bed.
“Nap, Cici?” he suggested quietly. “Then we can start fresh trying to work this case out.” He leaned over her to press a soft kiss to her mouth.
“Sounds like a plan,” she murmured against his lips. “As long as you never call me Cici ever again.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
What’s Her Secret?
Secret Seductress
Geraldine O’Hara
Excerpt
Chapter One
I was known as the mad bird, the one all the blokes in the pub went to for relationship advice or asked if I’d like to join them for a beer when all their mates were busy. None of them had ever shown an interest in me in any way other than us being friends. It would be the story of my life, I thought, being l
eft on the dusty shelf while everyone else paired off, married with loads of kids. I was happy enough, but there was that little thing inside me that whispered about cozy nights in with the man of my dreams—him bringing wine in a large goblet, which he would pour into my navel then suck it up.
Or was that dream only unique to me? Did anyone else dream the same thing?
I couldn’t be sure, but from where I was sitting—far-left corner of The Rusty Nail, best buddy Jen next to me and half a bottle of voddy scampering through my veins like a nutty dog in a meadow—the man of my dreams wasn’t here.
Well, he was…it was just that he didn’t know it. And, let’s face it, he wasn’t going to want me, Mad Mandy, all ladette, a woman who could drink most of the men under the table. God, what had I allowed myself to become?
Leon, the man I’d lusted after for six whole months, was standing by the bar swigging from his bottle of Beck’s. His lips around the top of that bottle had me wishing they were firmly clamped around my clit, giving it a good old tug and making me all squirmy with pleasure. I got that feeling down below that makes you want to clench, but the desire romping about in my nethers clearly didn’t fancy buggering off any time soon.
The other lads, Gary and Marshall, were fucking about twanging the hem of Leon’s white T-shirt. God knew what they were talking and laughing about, or why they were doing what they were, but I wished I was over there, part of the gang, just so I could twang that hem myself and maybe get a sly feel of his skin while I was at it.
“He is so lush, isn’t he?” Jen asked.
“Who?” I hoped she wasn’t referring to my Leon. She’d have no trouble snagging him, brunette beauty that she was, and I wouldn’t begrudge her an ounce of happiness, but… Oh, sod it. I did begrudge her. She could be happy so long as it wasn’t with him.
“Gary,” she said, sighing then sipping her vodka and lime. “He’s so bloody lovely.”
“Not my type,” I said, ogling the strip of Leon’s belly being exposed by Harry. “I prefer Leon. But sadly, he doesn’t prefer me.”
“How come you’ve never told me you liked him before?”
“No point,” I said.
I took a big gulp of my drink and stared so hard at Leon I narrowed my eyes, trying to spot whether he had an outie or innie as a belly button. His thick hair peeked out from his waistband then fanned upwards and hid that bit of information from view, so I’d have to content myself with imagining.
“Outie or innie?” I said, glancing across at Jen.
The men—or Gary, to be exact—held her spellbound. “What?”
“Leon. Outie or innie?”
“I can’t say I’ve ever wondered,” she said. “But if we go over there, maybe you can find out.” Instead of standing and doing just that, she remained in her seat, raised her glass to her pink-painted, cupid’s-bow lips and had another sip.
“Better not,” I said. “Looks like they’re not interested in us joining them. Seems it’s a lad’s night out to me.”
“Bit of a bummer, that,” she said.
“Hmm.”
I continued to watch them, transfixed by every scrap of skin that was being flaunted, slurping it all up and filing it in my head. The blokes were getting bolder, raising the hem higher, and Leon didn’t seem to give much of a shit. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, but he wasn’t shy either. I reckoned his take on it would be that if people wanted to look, why shouldn’t they? He had an air about him that might make the ladies think he was a player, a rough-looking player at that, with his permanent stubble, every-which-way hair and I’m-a-saucy-devil grin.
He could be a saucy bloody devil with me any time.
I sighed, as only the lovesick can, and propped my chin in one hand, planting my elbow firmly on the table in front of us. I toyed with the straw in my drink without looking at what I was doing, too immersed in waiting for that hem to go higher. It did, with a quick lift from Harry, who then hooked it over Leon’s head so he looked like one of those men who wore stockings to rob banks.
“Torso!” I shouted, bolting up onto my feet and pointing at the men.
Everyone turned to stare, and I blushed so hard I had the insane thought that my face was going to melt. Couples, groups of middle-aged friends and a few old men were the sum total of our drinking companions tonight, and none of them seemed amused by my loud outburst. They shifted their attention from me to Leon and back again, shaking their heads at me, the loud girl they undoubtedly thought needed to stop interrupting their quiet night out.
Balls to them.
I grabbed my drink and strode over to our male friends with the sole intent to rub my hands over that torso if it killed me. I heard Jen scraping her chair back behind me, and before I knew it, the pair of us were standing in front of Leon, who still couldn’t see a thing, what with his T-shirt being over his face.
I mouthed shh with my finger to my lips then warmed my hands by rubbing them together. I held my breath for a second before placing them on his pecs. As soon as my palms made contact with his sun-burnished skin—he was a beefy builder by trade—every rational thought went out of my head. All I could think of was mauling him silly, rubbing myself up and down his front, and ending with a press of my breasts to his midsection—God, he was so tall—that would give me thrills every time I thought about it in the future.
“Stop fucking about,” Leon said, his voice a bit muffled. “Whoever’s touching me had better bloody stop.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I asked, changing my voice to a lower key.
“Oh, Christ,” he said. “Who have we got here?”
“Pussy Pwoar, that is,” Gary said, giving my arm a nudge. “She’s come here especially for you, mate.”
I glanced across at Gary, who gave me the nod to fondle some more. I did, feeling oddly comforted by the presence of everyone around me. The lads and Jen had formed a circle, so no one else could see what we were up to. Emboldened by the secrecy they’d provided, I ran my fingertips up to the dip below his Adam’s apple then down, down, down to skim the pad of my thumb over his navel.
An innie.
I imagined dipping my tongue into it, then licking a path all the way up to his nipple. I glanced at Gary, who nodded, sticking his tongue out and looking quite pervy as he silently instructed me to make my next move. Amid cheers and laughter, I leaned forward and touched the tip of my tongue to Leon’s nipple. It burned—probably my imagination—and I swirled around it, my heart skittering madly and my clit doing all manner of throbby things that left me lightheaded. I breathed out, knowing he’d feel the warmth, and caught his nipple between my teeth.
He sucked in a breath. “Fuck me, Pussy. Steady on, love.”
Oh, I would fuck him, too, given half the chance.
He laughed nervously, and as I continued my oral exploration of his now-hardened nipple, I fondled his torso, dipping my fingertips beneath his waistband. I almost leaped back in surprise. I’d brushed the head of his cock—his very hard cock. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of him getting excited by a stranger. Then again, he was being stimulated, basically blindfolded, and I imagined any single man would get a bit hot and bothered by that kind of attention. And that was the word that made this all okay, wasn’t it? Single. He didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. No girlfriend waiting at home, oblivious to what he was up to. Except, even though I was enjoying what I was doing to him, a sneaky thought did tumble in.
What if he got turned on like this even if he did have a girlfriend?
Gary nudged me again, and I carried on with the nipple action while swiveling my eyes in his direction. He nodded at my hands. Pointed at the floor. Oh, God, he was telling me to push my hands lower.
Never one to baulk at a dare, I slid my hands right inside Leon’s jeans, his cock pressing against the backs. There wasn’t enough room to do what I wanted, which was to turn one of my hands over and curl it around his width, so I moved them in an up-and-down motion. His cock jolted, and he breathed
a little unsteadily. This was getting into serious territory now, not just his mates getting some woman to touch him up a bit. This was more like something that should be done in private.
“Mmmmm,” I said, hoping I’d sound turned on, seductive. “That’s enough for now, big boy.”
Laughter erupted around us, and I pulled my hands out, gave his nipple another quick bite, then pushed in between Gary and Jen, taking her hand and leading her back to our table. We sat, me out of breath and her almost wetting herself with laughter, and picked up our glasses, attempting to drink and make out we’d been there all along. Harry let go of the T-shirt, and Leon yanked it back down, looking around to see if he could spot Pussy Pwoar.
Pussy wants more, I’d say.
“You bunch of bastards,” Leon said, laughing to hide what I could only imagine was embarrassment. “Who the bloody hell arranged that?”
No one admitted to anything.
Leon looked our way. “Girls? Did you see?”
“Oh, we saw, all right,” Jen said. “Quite the hard six-pack you’ve got there—along with something else.”
I thought of that something else and how it had felt. I wanted it inside me more than ever.
“Mandy?” Leon said, raising an eyebrow and covering his bulge with one hand.
“Hmm?” Feigning nonchalance was probably my best bet.
“Did you see?” He tilted his head.
“I did.”
“And?”
“All I saw was Pussy Pwoar groping you.” I wanted to tell him it had been me, that I’d made his cock hard and had bitten his nipple, but it really wasn’t the right time. He might give a negative reaction, and then where would I be? In the hall of shame, that was where. And everyone knew that friends getting intimate always ended in tears.
“You fuckers,” he said, shaking his head then sipping his beer. “I’ll get you all back for this, you’ll see.”
“How was it?” Jen asked quietly, leaning close to me and resting her head on my shoulder.
Secret Identity (What's Her Secret?) Page 5