by Mina Carter
Piper finished her last bite, set her plate on the small counter, and yanked her sweatshirt off over her head.
Forrest blatantly stared at the plain white cotton bra that did nothing to hide her perky nipples. She was curvy in all the right places. He yanked his own T-shirt off over his head, turning more toward her on the futon. His jeans got very uncomfortable as her brown eyes perused his chest and she made a little noise of appreciation.
She reached behind herself and shrugged off her bra. His mountain lion began to purr inside his head, and he fought the urge to vocalize it. She scooted closer and ran her index finger down his chest. He sucked in a breath as she unbuttoned his jeans and the zipper lowered.
Why the hell didn't I come to Washington D.C. sooner? All thoughts ceased as Piper stood and removed her sweatpants and panties, and he quickly pulled off the rest of his own clothes.
She yanked the futon out and pushed him onto it. As he watched, she opened a drawer, pulled out a condom, and proceeded to sheath him before straddling his waist.
He was not used to a woman taking control, but it turned him on. He managed to take his eyes off her bouncing breasts to look up at her eyes when she grabbed his cock and enveloped him, causing him to groan. His hands gripped her waist as she rolled her hips, her head thrown back. He sat up and sucked a taut nipple into his mouth, teasing at it with his tongue and teeth as she mewled and moved faster. Her hands slid into his hair and forced his mouth to her other breast.
His mouth left her nipple with a pop as she tugged on his hair and finally kissed him. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues dueled, his hands sliding up and down her back as he pressed those glorious breasts against his chest.
Forrest spun her underneath him in a fluid motion, and she gasped in surprise before grinning. He smiled at her, flashing his dimples, and grabbed behind her knees to splay her open even further. He thrust quicker and quicker inside her, pulling almost out before refilling her.
The scream of his fake mission name caused him to pause, but he quickly recovered to finish in jerky movements before he spent his seed into the end of the condom.
He dropped down on top of her, catching his breath. Her fingertips slid along his back in soothing circles. He kissed her cheek before rolling off her and onto his side. He traced a lazy pattern with his finger along her right breast as she squirmed and giggled.
"So…what's your last name?" She broke out in hysterical laughter.
Forrest smirked. "Douglas. What's yours?"
"Murphy." She pecked him on the lips, stood up and reached out to take off the used condom to throw it in the nearby trash can. "You want to stay for a while? Maybe go for round two?"
"Two and three, at least," he said with a smirk, yanking her back onto the futon.
CHAPTER FOUR
TREY, BECAUSE FORREST had to think of him as that or risk screwing up the mission, walked into his tiny apartment and smirked.
"Damn, that is one loud chick you are banging. 'Foster! Yes! Right there! Give it to me!'" he mocked.
Forrest felt his cheeks flush. "Fuck off. At least I get to see the same lady more than once."
"Maybe I don't want to bang the same chick twice." Trey shrugged. "Variety is the spice of life."
"So are diseases. You're human, so you can catch shit," Forrest said with a smirk.
"That's what condoms are for. Please tell me you are using rubbers with her!" Trey demanded.
"Yes. I'm not an idiot. I may not catch anything, but I'm not ready for a kid." Forrest pulled open the small refrigerator and grabbed a beer for himself and one for Trey. He opened his own and took a long swig.
"You do realize you won't be here forever, right? Do you like her?" Trey leaned against the wall and drank the entire bottle in one try.
"I like her enough. I'm not thinking marriage if that's what you are asking." Forrest sat down on his bed. He did like Piper, a lot, but there was still a girl from home, Addie, he thought of when he envisioned forever. Not to mention that because Piper was human, she was not his fated mate, and did not have the taste that he'd crave for the rest of his life.
"Good. Had a chat with Dennis yet?"
"I made him a whiskey sour last night, but he was too busy drooling over Starr to carry on a conversation."
Trey nodded, rubbing at his stubbled chin in thought. "I got invited to a poker game. Back alley sort of thing. Word is he frequents it. Could be worth a shot."
Forrest nodded. "Did I see Starr at your place last night?"
"Yup. She knows how to work those fake titties over a cock." Trey grinned.
"You like fake breasts? I just don't get the appeal of it."
"Breasts are breasts. I like 'em big, I like 'em small. I just like 'em."
The smirk on Trey's face made Forrest roll his eyes. "We going to the arcade today?"
"Yeah. Better get to it." Trey placed his empty beer bottle on the counter.
* * * * *
Forrest's heartbeat was going a mile a minute as he stepped into the simulator. He'd been dying to try it, but it'd been so long, he'd given up the thought of getting to use it. So when Noah showed up to watch his first attempt, he worked himself into a nervous frenzy.
After putting on the body suit and holstering his fake weapons, he put the glasses on. The warehouse scenery was instantaneous and he could not help but put his hand out to study it in the 3D environment. He turned in a circle, looking from the floor to the ceiling. Awesome! This is better than any arcade game!
He heard a pop and felt the wind rustle his hair. He ducked and ran to the wall, crouching down to search for the shooter. Another pop and this time he felt a sharp zing on his left knee. "Fuck!" He looked down and saw blood pouring from a wound, but then he remembered it was all a simulation. Though a electric current continued to pulse on his knee, he rolled and drew his weapons, one in each hand, and fired in the direction of the shooter. He dodged a third shot and fired, seeing a figure fall from the second story. The body disappeared before it hit the floor.
He did not get a chance to gloat in victory when shots rang out from two different directions. He somersaulted and crouched behind a pole, studying the trajectories as shots bounced off the wall in front of him.
* * * * *
He wasn't sure how long the simulation had lasted when the scene went black and he pulled off the glasses. He was exhausted, yet exhilarated, as he ran a hand back through his sopping wet hair. He noticed the zings where he'd been 'shot' had ebbed and finally disappeared.
"Not bad, Mr. Scott." Noah crossed his arms over his chest. The monitor he had watched turned off.
Forrest nodded. "Thanks, sir," he said between ragged breaths. The adrenaline was waning and he barely refrained from dropping to the floor to gulp in air like a fish out of water.
"However, you were mortally wounded…twice," Noah remarked. "For the next two weeks, you'll be spending your three hours a day in the simulator until you manage to survive."
"Yes, sir," Forrest replied. When Noah turned and walked away, Forrest leaned against the wall, hands braced on his thighs as he drew in breath after breath. A cursory glance at the clock showed he'd been in the simulator for four hours! No wonder he was exhausted!
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT EVENING, Trey and Forrest had off from the strip club.
They arrived at the poker game when things were already in full swing. A small room in the back of a seedy bar, the air smelled of cigar and cigarette smoke, liquor, sweat, and desperation. It was not hard to tell the rich from the poor, though they all played with absolute concentration.
Half an hour later, a seat opened up at his target's table, and Forrest was quick to sit down. He let his eyes peruse his opponents, making sure to spend as much time on each table member so he did not concentrate on Dennis Falcone and make him suspicious.
Forrest picked up his cards, his face blank. Luckily, he'd played the game since he was very young---another thing that Finn had insisted upon. Who k
new Finn's "rules" would one day come in handy for an undercover mission?
"What's your name, kid?"
Forrest looked up, searching the faces as if he didn't already have a bead on Falcone's voice. He noticed his target smirking at him. "Foster."
"You work at Cuties, don't you?" Falcone continued, peeking at his own cards.
"Uh…yeah," Forrest replied.
The man on his left---one that reeked of desperation---spoke up as he nervously shifted his cards in his hands. "Are we talking or playing?"
"Good hand, eh, Gerald?" Falcone chuckled.
Gerald shrugged.
Forrest heard cards hit the table as several claimed "I fold". Screw that, I'm playing. "One," he tossed a card to the table and picked up his new card.
"Dealer takes two," Falcone said.
Gerald waved off a trade, piling chips in the middle.
"Raise twenty," Forrest said, pushing some chips to the center of the table.
Falcone eyed him, then Gerald. "Fifty," he said, pushing his own chips in.
Gerald tossed chips to the center.
Forrest did the same. "I call."
Gerald laid out a full house.
Falcone laid out his own full house.
"I have four ladies." Forrest placed his cards down and noted the scowl on Gerald's face. Falcone actually smiled as Forrest raked the chips in front of him.
"Looks like we have a real player, boys," Falcone said.
* * * * *
Two hours later, Forrest and Falcone were the only ones left playing.
Trey was leaning against the wall, beer in hand, watching the action. Most had cleared out, though some others hung around to talk.
Forrest stretched his arms high above his head and a few vertebrae in his back popped.
Falcone chewed relentlessly on the end of his cigar though he'd never lit it. He finally pointed the end at Forrest. "I call."
Forrest placed the straight on the table, knowing he lost this round. He really did it on purpose, figuring he had proved his worthiness in the several hands before, while allowing Falcone to save face as the big man in the room. So he was more than surprised when Falcone laid down two pair and lost.
"I like you, kid." Falcone smirked.
"You're okay too," Forrest mumbled, sorting the chips to cash out. He planned on taking Piper to a nice meal with his winnings.
"If you ever want to get a real job, come see me," Falcone replied, standing up.
Forrest chanced a glance at Trey before nodding. He had a feeling he'd just made significant progress on his mission with a few hours of poker.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS ALMOST a week before their schedules coincided to have dinner together.
Forrest laughed as Piper emptied the change from her purse onto the table. The restaurant he'd picked out cost a lot more than he thought it would, so his entire poker winnings went to pay the bill and part of a tip. He was embarrassed, to say the least, but Piper had taken the news like a champ and scraped up enough money to keep the waiter from scowling too much.
After dinner, they walked back to the apartment building with his arm around her shoulder. He guessed he would qualify them as dating, even though they rarely went out. She was adventurous in bed, but it was the fact that he was comfortable talking to her that made him feel at ease. She was like the best friend---with benefits---that he'd never allowed himself to have before.
The fact that he was a shifter, coupled with his dad constantly riding his ass about one thing or another, Forrest had always been a loner. A lot of times he felt as though the kids that did want to be around him only wanted to take advantage of the free food at his dad's restaurant. It was hard to know if they really wanted Forrest as a friend because of who he was, or if they wanted him for other reasons.
Playing the part of a poor bartender, living in the same crappy conditions as Piper did, made him realize she was interested in him for who he was. So his trust came easier with her, and he slowly felt as if a weight was dropping from his broad shoulders.
"Why don't you have pictures of your dad?" she asked as they settled onto his bed.
Forrest glanced at the pictures of Fiona cluttering the front of his small refrigerator and shrugged. "He's not my favorite person in the world."
"Why is that?"
Forrest met her brown eyes before looking away. "My sister is a great kid."
"Wow." Piper broke out in a fit of laughter.
"What?" Forrest raised a brow, unsure what was so funny.
"Classic avoidance." She took his hand and laced her fingers with his.
"Are you profiling me with your psychological mumbo-jumbo?" He squeezed her fingers as she smiled and nodded. She would graduate with a bachelor's in psychology in a few months. He'd never realized before how useful that sort of degree would be for working with politicians to use with opponents, voters, and lobbyists.
"I think you're pretty great, Foster Douglas."
She leaned in and brushed her lips over his, and his guilt kicked in. She was human and would never be his mate, even if she was his best friend at the moment. He wondered if he should admit to being a shifter. She'd probably run screaming the other direction.
Maybe Trey was right. He wouldn't be in D.C. forever, and he shouldn't lead Piper on this way. What if she thought they'd stay together? Could she be developing bigger feelings for him? Shit, I have to tell her…
He opened his mouth, determined to say something, but she chose that moment to drop to her knees in front of him and reach for his pants zipper. It could wait, just a few hours.
* * * * *
By the time Forrest woke, he found himself alone in his apartment. A glance at the clock told him that Piper would have gone to work.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling like an asshole. He hoped she was just having fun too, but he felt as though he needed to tell her the truth. Well, as much truth as I can tell her. He wasn't stupid enough to tell her he was undercover and worked for the D.E.A.
He just worried that he'd lose his first real friend and be all alone once again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FORREST DUCKED AND rolled under a table. He'd never expected every simulator scenario to be different. Then again, that'd be too easy.
He did learn real quick that he had to stay in his human form. The one time he'd accidentally shifted into his mountain lion, the 3D glasses had fallen off, and it all had to be reset. Plus, the simulated "bad guys" never got close enough to pounce on, and they'd disappear before he got close enough to attack.
He heard a different sound, and knew without a doubt it was a shotgun. He caught a glimpse of the figure and had to laugh. Clint Eastwood's version of Dirty Hairy was attacking. At least the 3D programmers had a sense of humor.
Once Forrest had "made his day", he pulled off the glasses, stopping the simulation.
Trey was casually leaning against the wall. "No wounds this time. Nice."
"Where's Noah?" Forrest grabbed a towel and draped it around his neck, using one edge to wipe the sweat from his brow.
"Noah has abandoned us for greener pastures."
Forrest raised his brows. "He's dead?"
Trey chuckled. "No. He's been put in charge of a special task force, working directly for the President."
"Holy cow!" Forrest exclaimed. "Good for him. Who does that leave in charge?"
Trey broke out in a cocky smirk. "You're looking at him."
Forrest furrowed his brows in surprise. Another human over the "shifter" division? It really made no sense to him.
"That means I'm leaving the shitty apartment complex and no more bouncer duty at the strip club. You're on your own."
Hmm, he wasn't so sure he was ready to be on his own, but he wasn't going to tell Trey…Terry that.
"I'll still go to the poker games, and I'll be here every time you are," Terry replied. "Don't worry, kid." He smacked him upside the shoulder.
Kid? Terry was almost the sa
me age he was.
* * * * *
It was shortly before sunset when Forrest decided to go on a run in the nearby park. He rarely spent time in his apartment if Piper wasn't around, because the place was so tiny and it depressed him.
His favorite place was a gravel trail that led around a small pond. The tall trees, lapping water, and quietness reminded him of Colorado. He missed his sister, but he'd gotten used to not hearing Finn rundown everything he did.
That's not the way I taught you to do it! No, of course Finn's way was always the right and only way.
"You're throwing it like a girl!"
The loud bark of command, different from his father's voice, caused Forrest to stop mid-step. He turned in a slow circle, seeking out the voice. A man about thirty years of age with dark hair and impressive muscles had a small child, ten years of age or less, in a firm grip on the kid's small arm.
"If you do it that way again, you won't sit down for a week!"
You wait until we get home, young man! I will wear you out! Forrest could remember his dad saying.
"What are you looking at?"
Forrest blinked his way out of his memories to see the man, still gripping the kid, but staring at him. "I'm looking at you, jackass. Don't bully the kid."
The pure hatred in the man's eyes turned up a notch, and his flung the kid's arm from his grasp as though the kid was now a pesky fly. "Who are you calling jackass?"
"That'd be you." Forrest shrugged. "You touch that kid again and I'll call the cops."
The man advanced on him, hands fisted at his sides. "What I do with my son is my business!"
"You're a bully and a child abuser!" Forrest yelled. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size? Too scared of getting your ass handed to you?"
The man took a swing, but Forrest ducked it, and threw a punch that grazed off the man's chin. The man tackled Forrest to the gravel path, and the two wrestled, throwing punches and rolling along the small stones.