Chain Reaction

by Tara Wyatt

  He pulled her shirt up over her head and cupped her breasts, his thumbs playing over her nipples through her bra. “I’m yours, and you’re mine.” He unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor and pulled her against him, needing to feel her skin against his. He kissed her and backed her toward the bed, needing to get inside her. He tumbled her down to the bed, and her legs came up around his hips. Breaking the kiss, she stilled and took one of his hands, guiding it to her heart. It beat steadily against his palm, and she placed her own palm over his heart. Several heartbeats elapsed before she spoke.

  “Ours. Us.”

  His throat thickened, and he kissed her. He’d never believed he could have something like this, especially not with someone like her. He felt so damn alive, as though his eyes were open for the first time in his life. He’d spent so much time fighting, but now he knew what it felt like to have something worth fighting for.

  He slipped a hand between them and into her yoga pants, dipping into her panties while he kissed a path from her mouth down to her breasts. As he sucked a nipple into his mouth, he slipped a finger inside her. She was hot and wet around him, and he groaned as she clenched around his finger. He added a second finger and fucked her slowly as she moaned under him. When he pulled his hand away, his fingers were slick, and she shoved her yoga pants down, then began fumbling with the button on his jeans. He rose just enough to ditch his jeans and boxer briefs. He fell back down on top of her, and she took his cock in her hand, stroking him.

  Bracing one hand above her head, he lined his cock up and pushed into her, going slow, not because he was afraid of hurting her but because he needed to savor every second of this. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, and he gave in, sliding in to the hilt. Her back arched up off the bed, and she moaned out his name. She slipped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

  “When will it be enough?” she asked, her eyes shining and full even in the semidarkness.

  “Never, Alexa.” He slowly pulled out and then just as slowly pushed all the way back in. She was so deliciously wet and tight around him, but he wanted this to last. Nothing was ever enough with her.

  She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Mine,” she sighed out as he thrust in and out of her again, and he pressed his forehead to hers as he established a slow, steady, deep rhythm.

  “Always, princess.”

  He reached up and took one of her hands, lacing their fingers together and pressing her arm into the mattress, her hand above her head. Bracing his weight on his other arm, he bent his head and kissed her as he moved in and out of her. Her nails scraped lightly down his back, and he started to move faster. He rolled his hips in the way he knew she liked, and when she pulsed around him, he did it again and again and again until she started to shake and he felt her pussy clench around his cock as she came.

  “God, Zack, yes!” she cried out, so loud that the entire house probably heard her, but he didn’t care. Throbbing heat flared through him, radiating outward from the base of his spine, and although he didn’t want it to be over, he knew he couldn’t hang on much longer. She felt too damn good. He fucked her harder, losing himself in the intense pleasure of her body around his, and he pressed his face into her neck as he came, emptying himself inside her. Giving her everything.

  He collapsed down on her, his entire body heavy with release, with how fucking good she made him feel.

  With happiness and hope.

  Chapter 23

  Jonathan held the small black square in his shaking hand. His temples throbbed painfully, and he clenched his teeth. Pain shot through his jaw and down his neck as he stared at the piece of plastic.

  Slowly, he closed his fingers over it, tightening his fist until he felt the plastic give, accompanied by a satisfying crack. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, fighting back the wave of panicked nausea licking at the back of his throat.

  “Fuck!” he screamed, and threw the shards of black plastic down onto his desk, watching them bounce and scatter. He sank down into his chair and looked around the library—once his sanctuary—and ground his teeth again. His sanctuary had been violated, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Scrolling quickly through his list of contacts, he found the one he was looking for, and he waited impatiently as it rang. Finally, it was answered, and he didn’t even wait for a greeting before he spoke, using as few words as possible in case the call was being recorded.

  “Get over here. Bring the equipment. Now.” He disconnected and made a second call, to one of his LAPD guys.

  “It’s me. I need to know where my daughter is.”

  “On it.” The line went dead, and he tossed his phone onto the desk.

  Alexa. She’d done this. She’d planted these fucking bugs. Her and that stupid fucker, De Luca. Was she working with the LAPD? The feds? What did she know? How long had she known?

  His phone started vibrating on the desk, and he picked it up, swiping his finger roughly across the screen. “What?” he barked out.

  Kramer cleared his throat. “I talked to Elijah’s lawyer, and it’s not looking good. You might want to get out of town.”

  His grip tightened on his phone. “I need to take care of a few things first.” Alexa and her fucking bodyguard would pay for what they’d done. It didn’t matter that she was his flesh and blood. He couldn’t let her get away with this.

  “Like Alexa,” Kramer said matter-of-factly, and Jonathan frowned.

  “What about her?” How the hell could Kramer know about her betrayal?

  “Elijah’s lawyer said he has it on good authority that she’s been working with the feds.”

  Jonathan’s blood turned to ice in his veins, and a chill worked its way down his spine. Fury gripped him, and he kicked at the wastepaper basket under his desk. “I’ll take care of it. Make sure Elijah has whatever he needs.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  All this was her doing. That stupid, ungrateful, conniving bitch. He’d given her so much. Money, and opportunity, and an extravagant lifestyle most people only dreamed about. And she’d repaid him by betraying not just him, but the family legacy he’d worked so hard to build and protect.

  He wouldn’t let them get away with this. She and De Luca, they would pay. With blood, and pain, and silence, they would pay.

  * * *

  Alexa smiled as she knotted her favorite blue scarf around Zack’s wrists and threaded it through the slats in the headboard, securing it in place. She’d been thinking about this for days, wanting to explore him. To revel in his body and make him feel as good as he made her feel.

  She sat back on her heels and let her eyes take a leisurely stroll down his naked body. His hair was messy, sticking up in places because she’d been running her hands through it while they’d kissed and kissed and kissed earlier. His black eye was healing; all the swelling was gone, and the bruising had faded to a light brownish yellow. The muscles in his arms flexed as he adjusted his grip on the headboard, moving his head against the pillow propped behind him. The masculine lines of his chest, his pecs, his abs, all that gorgeous skin, beckoned to her, and she swung her leg over his hips, straddling his lap. The hair on his thighs bristled against her skin, and she leaned forward, scraping her teeth over one of his nipples.

  She looked up and met his eyes, and he smiled that heart-melting half smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling. When she’d told him what she wanted, he’d offered himself up willingly, letting her take what she needed from him.

  He flexed his hips up, and his hard cock brushed against her thigh. Her clit throbbed, and a dull ache took root in her core, but this, right now, this wasn’t about that. This was about giving and claiming at the same time. About power, and trust, and adoration.

  She moved down his legs, took his cock in her hands, and stroked him lazily, watching as a tiny bead of moisture formed on the tip. Still stroking him, she bent her head and kissed that bead of moisture, swirling her tongue over the head of his cock
once and then sitting back again and licking her lips.

  He shifted his hips impatiently. “You know I’m going to make you pay for this, right?” His voice was strained, and she smiled.

  “I’m counting on it.” She winked at him and then bent forward again, her bare breasts brushing over his chest. He groaned and strained against the scarf, the headboard creaking slightly. When he was still, she kissed a path down his chest, taking her time over his abs, kissing each defined muscle, licking and nipping at his skin, sliding her hand over his cock in slow, teasing strokes. She worked her way lower, licking the cut lines along his hips and then down.

  She traced her tongue over his balls, and he groaned, his hips moving again against the mattress. She did it again and then feathered kisses up his shaft, rubbing her lips over his hot, smooth skin.

  “I love your cock,” she said, and slowly licked up the entire length of him. “I love how it looks, and how it feels, and how it tastes.” The headboard creaked again, and she looked up.

  His eyes were dark, his brow furrowed. “Show me how much you love my cock, princess.”

  “Mmm.” The sound she made was half moan, half hum, and she wrapped her hand around the base. Smiling, she met his eyes and pressed the head of his cock to her lips. She flicked her tongue out and licked him, and his body jerked, his wrists straining against the scarf.

  “God, Alexa. Please,” he ground out, and she stroked him with her hand again.

  “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  His hips rose up off the bed, toward her. “Put my cock in your mouth. Now.”

  She smiled and moved away, and he groaned. She settled back down on top of him, straddling him again. This time she slicked her pussy over his cock, rubbing her throbbing clit against him. They moaned in unison, and she did it again, rocking back and forth over the hard ridge of his cock, sliding easily because she was so aroused it almost hurt.

  Pleasure—need and lust and love—licked over her skin, and he pressed up into her, his hips working. She threw her head back, high on arousal, and rocked her hips, back and forth, back and forth, and as he ground up into her, the throbbing in her clit stopped and then restarted again at double time as she came. She fell forward against him as she moaned out his name, her entire body shaking.

  Zack slammed his head back against the pillow, his chest heaving. “Holy shit,” he panted out, and her eyes fluttered closed for a second as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Once she caught her breath, she kissed her way down his body again, but with no teasing this time. Wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, she took him into her mouth, sucking and licking and moaning as she tasted herself on him. She swirled her tongue over and around his head, and she could taste how turned on he was. A surge of power flowed through her, and she pumped her hand up to meet her lips, taking as much of his thick cock into her mouth as she could. She felt the head nudge the back of her throat, and her eyes watered.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, princess. Holy fuck,” he growled, pushing his hips up to meet her mouth, and she swallowed a little bit more of him. Slowly, slowly, she eased back and stroked him with her hand, slicking her saliva over him. She kissed the head, licking at him, sucking and teasing before once again taking him deep into her mouth. This time she found a steady rhythm, working his cock in and out of her mouth, slicking her tongue over his head with each pass. His hips jerked, and she let him slip free of her mouth, trailing the tip of her tongue over his hot, smooth skin. She stroked him and kissed his swollen head, looking up at him.

  Her heart almost stopped, he looked so fucking ravenous. His eyes were dark, the cords in his neck straining. She kissed his cock again, still working him with her hand. “Do you want to come in my mouth?” she asked, and his cock twitched in her hand. For the first time in her life, she was enjoying this, and it was because of him.

  “Please,” he moaned, and she smiled as she once again took him deep, working him with her mouth. Another creak from the headboard, and his hips flexed up off the bed. “Alexa!” The first salty spurt of his come hit her tongue as the headboard gave way with a loud crack. He pumped his hips up to meet her mouth as he came, and she greedily swallowed down everything he gave her.

  Slowly, she eased his still-hard cock out of her mouth and looked up at him. His eyes were glazed, and his hands were by his sides. The scarf was still wrapped around his right wrist, along with a slender piece of wood. One of the headboard’s slats had snapped free.

  “You made me break the headboard,” he said, his voice strained, his chest heaving. And then he started to laugh, his shoulders shaking, and, as she sat up, she couldn’t help but join him. She laughed and laughed until her stomach hurt and tears filled her eyes, and then she fell into his arms.

  For the first time in her life, she knew what real happiness felt like.

  * * *

  Zack’s eyes flew open, and he sat up in bed. Alexa slept beside him, sprawled on her stomach and wearing one of his T-shirts, her arms above her head. He frowned as he listened.

  Something was wrong.

  He pushed the covers back and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. He grabbed his gun from the nightstand and moved silently through the room, then turned the doorknob slowly so it wouldn’t squeak. He stepped into the hallway and listened again, wishing his heart weren’t beating so damn loud.

  A car door slammed somewhere down the street. He made his way down the stairs, his gun cradled in his hands. The house was dark save for a faint light in the kitchen, and he made his way toward it.

  Mac stood in the room, his Browning Hi Power in his hand, his head cocked. “You hear that?” he whispered.

  Zack nodded, checking the clip on his M&P9. “Car door. Anything on the cams?”

  Mac nodded. “Two vehicles by the curb a few houses down. Can’t see the occupants; it’s too bloody dark.”

  “Let me see if I can see anything through the front windows. I’ll whistle if I do.”

  Mac nodded, and Zack hurried into the room at the front of the house. Just as he eased back the curtain, the window shattered. Sharp, stinging pain seared across his bare arms and chest, and he ducked, shielding his face with his arms instinctively. The alarm started blaring, and Zack ran toward the stairs. He had to get to Alexa and protect her.

  At least eight men, all wearing ski masks, poured in through the shattered bay window, guns in their gloved hands. Locklin and Rowe, the two Special Ops officers, came charging in, guns drawn. Gunfire exploded through the house, and Zack dove behind the leather sofa, belly to the ground. The sofa wouldn’t stop those bullets, and he needed to get to Alexa. As cautiously as possible, he peeked up above the top of the sofa, taking aim and shooting at the attackers.

  Morales stood at the top of the stairs and, with deadly accuracy, aimed and took out three of the armed intruders. She moved quickly down the stairs, but more men swarmed into the house. Rowe lay on the floor, an ominous red puddle around him. It would be several minutes before backup of any kind reached them, and they were outgunned and outnumbered.

  Knowing he needed to take this chance, Zack stayed as low as possible and ran. A bullet whizzed by his head, splintering the wood of the banister as he neared the stairs. He could hear the men moving farther into the house, and he grabbed at the banister. Morales had run into the fray, and the staircase was now unguarded. Panic flooded him, and he pushed up the stairs.

  A hand closed over his ankle and yanked him down. Pain exploded across his ribs as they made contact with the hard wood of the stairs, and he swore. He kicked free of the grip and turned to face the man, who started to raise his gun.

  Zack aimed a high kick, connecting with the weapon and sending it skittering across the floor. From the front of the house, shouts, bangs, and grunts echoed, but all he could focus on was the man in front of him. Zack would do whatever it took to stop him from getting up those stairs.

  The man lunged at Zack, but he was ready for him and threw him off easily, la
nding a punch and a kick before shoving him back into the wall. He pinned him there and brought his knee into his stomach, and then threw him to the floor. He’d dropped his gun when the man had grabbed his ankle and was without a weapon. But the bullet that had narrowly missed him had broken the banister, leaving a couple of spindles loose.

  As fast as he could, Zack grabbed two thick wooden spindles and brandished them in front of him. The man got up off the floor, and Zack struck out with one of the spindles, connecting with the man’s temple. He slumped to the floor just as a second man charged at Zack, intent on the stairs. Zack threw his elbow into the man’s face, and the sickening crunch of elbow meeting jaw filled him with a grim satisfaction. Howling, the attacker stumbled backward, and Zack raised his leg and kicked him hard in the stomach.

  A scream pierced the night from upstairs, and Zack’s heart stopped.

  Alexa.

  He turned and ran up the stairs, and fell to his knees when he found their room empty.

  * * *

  Alexa fought and struggled, trying desperately to use any of the self-defense techniques Zack had taught her, but it was no use. She was outnumbered, and each of the men was much, much stronger than her. She could hear gunshots and yelling downstairs, and she knew her father had somehow found where they were hiding.

  The two men who’d crashed in through her window held her pinned between them. They dragged her across the room, then made their way through the smashed window and out onto the roof. A desperate panic jolted through her, and she struggled harder, letting loose a scream. One of the men backhanded her, and she stumbled forward, stunned by the pain. Her mouth filled with blood, her eyes with tears as her mind spun with what to do. Going with them would mean only terrible things; she knew that much.

  The men wore harnesses, and one of them crushed her against his chest, holding her in place as the other man clipped both men to the ropes attached to the house with grappling hooks. She squirmed against his iron grip, his meaty fingers digging painfully into her arms. Once both men were secured, the other grabbed her and began rappelling down the side of the house. This time she didn’t fight, too scared of falling to the ground twenty feet below and breaking her neck.