Whip Me Up Tie Me Down

by Lavender Daye

  Dammit, he loved feisty women and with all the adrenaline flowing between them, he couldn’t resist poking at her a little more. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  The seat creaked and her warm breath caressed his cheek. “Fuck. You. Spill it all. Now.”

  He laughed and she flopped back into her seat with a growl.

  “I’m a lot of things, an amalgam of vocations, but mainly I’m a listener. A watcher.”

  “Nice, but it tells me nothing. How did you know about my backup pistol and how did you manage to take out all those lights and shooters with little effort?”

  “Practice?” He glanced at her expression and decided to back off before she pulled her gun into her lap. “We got a tip a few months ago. A terrorist cell working in this area, planning to do damage here and in Saudi. A scheme to interrupt oil production and diplomatic relations.”

  He let her chew on that bite while he changed lanes and then freeways. Knowing how her mind worked, the silence was unnerving. He knew pissed when he saw it, and Lizette had a right to be well past majorly pissed off at his deception. Make that multiple in her eyes. The profession, the attitude, and from her point of view, the chemistry between them could all be construed as subterfuge.

  Strong willed as she was, there was little he could do. It was simply the way his business worked and the way of the world for him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “A safe place to discuss this and check in with my boss.”

  “FBI?”

  “No.”

  “CIA?”

  “Oh, hell no. Those guys change names too many times a year for me to maintain my regular job.”

  “And what exactly is your regular job?”

  She was full of questions and he couldn’t blame her. Good news was that her respirations had settled into a comfortable level and she didn’t appear angry. But every man knew, regardless of his occupation, that a woman’s anger could flame out of control in a heartbeat, so he worked at keeping her mellow.

  “I hold a doctorate in Middle Eastern Culture and History and a Masters in Political Science. “I teach at a few of the universities in the states around DC.” He slowed to change lanes and check for followers. A little contemplation would be good for her.

  But not too much.

  “Don’t stop on my account.” She shifted in the seat but he hadn’t seen the glint of metal. Yet.

  “Not much to tell.”

  “Try again. I have plenty of time and ways to make you talk.”

  Eyes on the road, he dropped his voice. “Who the hell do you work for, Miss Kently?”

  “How—”

  He flashed her the look he used in interrogations. Her brows popped into the fray of hair on her forehead.

  “Now. Or you’re walking home.”

  “Jackass.” More of a hiss than a reply. Arms crossed and fury wafting through the car in hot waves, she said, “County terrorism task force and my day job at the PD.”

  Silence was a cold snap between them after all the heat they’d generated together. Unwelcome but necessary. At least she wasn’t a rookie with no experience or skills.

  “I listen.”

  “What?”

  “I’m fluent in a few languages. I hang out and listen for dialects and conversations detrimental to our country, then report my findings.”

  “You’re a spy?”

  “Kind of, well, yes, I guess I can own the label. But just between the two of us.”

  “Does Mark know all this?”

  “He knows about the teaching gigs. Nothing else, and it needs to stay that way for his safety and everyone else’s.”

  She went still and silent. Processing the info he’d dropped in her lap would take at least a few minutes and he could use the time to think. His cover was blown, most likely by his slip in the coffee shop. First order of business was security for Lizette, then a call to his boss in DC. The ass chewing wouldn’t be fun.

  “How do you know they were shooting at you?”

  “I’ve done this more than once. I know.”

  Lizette shifted in the seat and he got a good look at her face. Not good. Not good at all. He put some effort into calming his tone. “The scenario at the restaurant matches the MO of a hit attempt in Chicago three years ago. We’re looking for the splinter group of that cell.”

  It was impossible to hold her stare and drive at the same time, so he scanned the street signs for his exit, frustration building. A quick check in her direction proved nothing but trouble. “We’ll talk about this once we’re alone.”

  “Maybe.” The sound of her voice put him in mind of a meat grinder working on a bone.

  Finally seeing the turn, he pulled into the back parking lot of the hotel. They needed to talk, find a middle ground and put together a plan of action, but it wouldn’t happen with her pissed at him. He went around to open her door on the off chance a little chivalry would take some of the sting from the situation.

  She beat him to it and then put enough space between them to walk an elephant. The probability of sex dropped into the cold as ice zone. She let him lead her into the building and didn’t speak on the elevator.

  It was a standard midgrade hotel chain with a good reputation and comfortable beds. The minute he popped the door, she slid past him and went straight to the bathroom. A click of the lock confirmed her irritation.

  He settled on the bed. At the bare minimum, they were safe and invisible regardless of her anger. Still, he’d be happier with the situation if he had his own gun.

  The bathroom door opened. She’d washed her face, the damp towel still in her hand. Without a word, she strode to the single armchair. Picked up the television remote. Pointed it at the screen and turned it on. Not a word or a look in his direction.

  When silent channel surfing began, he went into the bathroom to wash the dirt and gunpowder residue from his hands, the long night ahead of him.

  ***

  Lizette leaned forward and unzipped her work boots, sliding them off with a sigh. She set them beside the chair, but not before retrieving the extra pair of cuffs hidden in the inside pocket. Standing to stretch, she noticed the closet door ajar and a duffle pushed into the shadows.

  A perfect cache of supplies. In a very few minutes, she’d armed herself and positioned her body in the blind spot where the bathroom door opened.

  A few minutes of silent planning had anticipation spiking.

  The door swung open. Jake stepped out and past her. Once he cleared the door, she moved forward, one set of open cuffs in each hand. The quick, synchronous click of cuffs closing around each wrist had one word leaving his lips.

  “What—”

  She pulled the unused half of each cuff into the small of his broad back and linked them, tightening until only a few inches separated his wrists.

  “—the hell?”

  “On your knees.”

  His head swiveled and she grasped one ear, pulling down.

  “Lizette, what are you doing?”

  “On. Your. Knees.”

  She’d had just about enough of his big shot government agent I’m-the-man attitude. Lifting one foot, she pushed her kneecap into the back of his left knee. He was unprepared for the swift move-most men were-and he went down. Both knees met the carpet and the only thing keeping Jake’s torso from following was her hand on the back of his shirt. A few of the buttons popped off, making it all the easier for her to pull the rest of it loose and slide it down his nicely proportioned back. The fabric bunched around the cuffs and she used some of it to cushion his wrists.

  “Stop moving and follow directions. I don’t want to hurt you. Well, maybe a little. Be still.”

  He continued to curse, mostly in English. She didn’t recognize the other words but tone and attitude had their own definitions.

  “Time to play my way.”

  Crossing back to the chair, she pulled her cell out and got comfortable. Damn irritating man was well built. T
he first time they were together, the room had been dark and she’d had only her hands to map the chest topography and judge it well-made. Now her options were more varied.

  His expression and attitude had shifted from shock to interest, but when she raised her phone and snapped a picture, he growled.

  “I don’t do pictures, Lizette. Ever.”

  “Well, big man, right this moment, you don’t have a choice. Now be quiet. I have a few calls to make before we play.”

  He grumbled and growled some more while she swiveled the chair in a short arc and called her captain.

  “What did you find? How bad is it?” she asked the minute he came on the line. With a sharp look and a finger to her lips, she hit the speaker icon. No matter their issues, this was about both of them and he needed the information as much as she did.

  “Two bodies. No ID, but pictures match with known gang members. Where are you, Kently?”

  She skipped ahead. “I left the restaurant with a man, a date, and he is under the impression he was the target.”

  The rough laugh from her friend and colleague was unexpected. “Maybe he thinks this is your version of foreplay.”

  “Captain, what are you insinuating?”

  “Cap it, Kently. You’re the best officer I have and I know all about your membership. And, no, Harrison didn’t tell me. But if you’re playing games with this man, I need to know right now.”

  “No, sir. No games.” She shot Jake a look and he nodded, the message clear. No sound from him until they knew what they were dealing with.

  “Didn’t think so but had to ask. Now tell me why he thinks he’s a target.”

  Across the room, the man on his knees shook his head, eyes determined. Steely and with no hint of panic.

  “He won’t tell me. Give me a little time and I’ll get something out of him.”

  “Don’t kill him, Kently. Somebody might need him later.”

  With a shared laugh, she disconnected the call and turned off her cell. “What’s going on with you? First you claim to be the intended victim and then clam up.”

  “Too many variables over an open cell. I understand your trust in your boss, but I don’t know him for shit and won’t offer information.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  It took him a few minutes to answer, his eyes focused and tight to hers and the possibility she’d pushed too hard crept into her head.

  “Trust isn’t easy for me, for obvious reasons. But right now, yes. I trust you.”

  “Good.” She leaned forward and pulled her socks off, dropping them next to her boots. Standing, she unbuckled her belt and slipped it through the loops of her work pants to remove the holster at the small of her back.

  He groaned when she reached for the buttons on her blouse. She fiddled with the top two, fingers lingering on the buttons while she listened and enjoyed the sounds of anticipation from Jake. When it slipped off her shoulders, she went to the closet for a hanger and gave him her back while she worked.

  The pants came next. It wasn’t often that she stripped for a sub, but most of her companions at the club were seasoned submissives and arrived ready to play. Not so with Jake. He had no real idea of the scene and she wanted to give him something to remember. She shimmied the pants down her legs, thankful she’d worn decently sexy panties this morning, and wiggled her ass while grabbing another hanger.

  “Holy shit.”

  The rough whisper lodged in her heart, need and appreciation flowing into her, feeding her desire.

  Not yet.

  Unclipping her bra, she draped it over another hanger and half turned toward him. Hands reaching over her head, she stretched her back while he panted. Without a word or a glance, she went to the bed and pulled the covers back. Grabbing the remote, she climbed onto the big bed and settled against the headboard to channel surf.

  “Are you going to just leave me over here?”

  A trace of amusement in his voice vied with irritation and she smiled. “Did I tell you to talk?”

  “I haven’t read the rule book. Help me out.”

  “If you can stay in place and quiet until the news is over, you might earn a reward.”

  “What kind of reward?”

  “Clock is ticking.” It took a concerted effort to look away and focus on the nightly news. Their incident was a last minute addition, a short report of a shooting and several cars damaged. Nothing about the bodies or speculation about cause.

  Lizette looked him over and slid off the bed, his gaze all hot and needy while it skittered across her body. If he’d been a dog there’d be a puddle of drool on the floor. Heat flowed across the room and enveloped her. Not like she needed the additional flames for her fire, though. She wanted the feel of him against her skin. Burned for it.

  Desire pushed hard and she grappled with it until it became a hot simmering pot of lust waiting to be consumed. Waiting was a bitch she’d tamed and explored many times. She could handle it.

  He needed a lesson, one that would give him a strong full-bodied taste of what her lifestyle entailed. He needed it now, before they went deeper into the relationship. Without a doubt, before she lost her heart.

  She wanted him in her bed on a regular basis and on her terms.

  She stepped behind him and slipped her fingers in his hair, a quick massage before she pulled his head back. Exposed and vulnerable, yanked out of his comfort zone, the man radiated tension. “Don’t fight the loss of control, Jake. Embrace it. Let it roll over you and take you to a different place.” The whisper wafted over his ear just as she’d planned and it was a smooth move past his chin to nibbled on the long expanse of his exposed throat, the stipple of beard rough against her mouth. Her lips felt the vibration of his groan as it left his body and she removed her hand. Fingernails skimmed his shoulder and chill bumps rose in the wake of her hand.

  “You did as I asked. Now I have a short reward for you.” Liz moved around his body, closer with each step until her bare breasts brushed against his chin. “Pleasure me with your mouth, Jake.”

  His eyes rolled up for a split second, his gaze meeting hers with fire in their depths before returning to what she offered. His tongue flicked out to lick and lave. She raised a hand to pet him, ruffling and feathering his hair while he consumed her.

  “Ah, yes,” she sighed, enjoying his efforts. “That’s a good man, following directions.”

  Chapter 11

  He woke to pleasure. A fog of sensuality engulfed him in the darkened room, his dick pulsing with need, and it wasn’t his typical morning wood. Soft hands were coaxing him to stiffen past his limits. Hips lifted in instinct and desire flooded the rest of his body.

  Eyelids flickered and attempted to focus. Edges of light forced him to acknowledge the blindfold and he came fully awake.

  “Yes. There you are.”

  Lizette.

  Oh, God. She was going to kill him with sex.

  He shifted again, the urge to touch her while she fondled him imperative. No go. His arms wouldn’t comply, fixed in some way above his head.

  “Let me loose.”

  “Soon. For now, you’ll enjoy what I offer and be a good man.”

  Ah, damn. The submissive thing again. He’d enjoyed it plenty the night before but hadn’t expected a repeat so quickly. Not really his thing, or so he’d thought. Last night blew the top of his head off and gave him a taste. From the silky texture of her hands moving up and down his tight-as-hell dick, he was about to get another lesson.

  If he survived.

  Balls high and hard, he was more than ready to come with a vengeance and he had no idea how long she’d been working him. Fabric rustled and slid across his upper thigh.

  “Oh, shit, no.” The protest didn’t stop her. Whatever she had was now wrapped around the base of his cock and tight enough to keep him hard until she decided otherwise.

  “Don’t worry, pretty boy. I’ll make it good. Trust me.”

  The bed dipped and he heard her feet hit the
carpet with a soft thump. “Where—”

  “Ah-ah. No talking without permission.”

  A phone rang, hers, and when she answered her voice was all business with no hint of arousal. His brain kicked into gear, a need to redirect some of the physical restrictions she’d imposed while he wondered what kind of woman he’d fallen into bed with. He sure as hell wasn’t garnering any information from the phone conversation. She mostly listened, replied in short succinct words, and signed off before disappearing into the silent darkness.

  Sonuvabitch. He ached.

  Warm hands, warm slippery hands engulfed him, the bed dipped and shifted, and she was there, on him. Around him and moving, little hot phrases and praise passing her lips while she enjoyed the ride. Her body clamped hard around him and pulsed. Damn her rules, he opened his mouth and shouted with her even as he was denied the climax. He groaned when she shifted into another set of rise and fall, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through his body. Lizette’s mouth touched his, a swipe of her tongue slipping inside, then lips on lips as her pace increased. The kisses continued up his face and into his hair. Something bumped his chin and he realized it was a breast. He turned to lick it but she was faster, reorienting to brush her nipple against his chin.

  She wanted the stubble.

  Quick to accommodate, he rocked his chin side to side and enjoyed her intake of breath when he hit the right spot. One hand slid between their bodies and the garrote loosened around his cock.

  “Wait for my permission. You don’t come until I tell you to, Jake.”

  Well past ready, he followed directions and let her lead him to the release. Tension built until he feared being able to wait, but his little Domme knew her stuff. Her demand of his climax came at the very last second of control.

  Her sex clamped tighter than a vise around him.

  “Come for me, Jake. Now.”

  ***

  The shower was running when he woke. Arms by his side and untethered, he was free to move but had no energy to do so. He was warm, comfortable, and sated, the covers pulled up to his chest. The clock on the nightstand read a decent eight in the morning.