by Coulton, JC
He comes over to the bed and puts his fingers to his lips so I don’t make a sound. He reaches up under my shirt and switches of the microphone device I’m wired to. I completely forgot about it.
“Carrie. I’ll tell you why I joined the FBI,” he says out of the blue. “It was mostly to do with my dad. We used to watch spy movies together when I was a kid. There was something so appealing about being undercover; about being a spy. The FBI was the closest match, I guess.
“It wasn’t until I started that I realized how passionate I am. The work I’ve been doing is a double-edged sword. It’s vital work. I know how important it is, and at the same time, it sickens me. I dream about those children. I have nightmares about their little tortured bodies and the ones we never find.”
His candor surprises me. I’ve only known him for the day, but this is different from the Agent Cooper I’ve seen so far. He’s got a vulnerable look as he speaks. There’s something unusually compelling about it.
“When I saw what was happening to so many women and children, I knew I had found my niche. I was always protecting my little sister from schoolyard taunts. Doing this work gives me a similar feeling of purpose. The sad part is our team is underfunded and under-recognized. It’s because of the number of foreigners who are affected. It’s as if the Bureau measures the damage by nationality. I know I’m generalizing here, but whatever affects the most Americans tops the priority list. I’ve seen it time and time again. Our team receives less training, and there’s less renewal among our ranks.”
I let him continue talking. I’m learning. There’s a lot more to him than I originally thought. I can’t lie, it intensifies my attraction to him. He looks so handsome, his profile all dark and broody as he talks about his work. It’s sexy. I like a man who has passion. I’m just not sure of anything. If I misjudged Blake so badly, I could have misjudged Jason as well.
“Carrie when I first told you about Blake and Neon, I wanted to protect you from the whole truth. But after tonight, I’m confident it’s best you know everything. When the team first discovered he was meeting with Neon they logged an intimate encounter between the two of them. It appears they’ve been together for some time.”
His eyes are apologetic as he continues. “I know this must be heartbreaking, and regardless of what’s happened, I want you to know I understand how betrayal feels. I know you’re going through a lot of pain today, having known Blake since high school, then starting a relationship with him in the last couple of weeks, only to find he’s not what he seemed, like we all witnessed today…
“It’s a bitter pill to have to swallow. I want to comfort you, to be there for you. I just have to be cautious. Do you know what I mean?”
What is a girl supposed to say to that? If there were an Oscar for breaking the news of betrayal to a girl, then this guy would take it home without a doubt. The news about Blake and Neon doesn’t come as a surprise after seeing them together this evening, but the news about Jason’s intentions does. I feel like hugging the guy.
“I don’t know what to say,” I start. “Thank you for your respect and your help. It’s had to face the truth when it comes with pain, but I appreciate you for telling me the truth. I have no idea what I’m going to do or say, but I know I don’t want to be alone.”
“I think I understand.”
“Do you, Jason? Can you accept that from me? I don’t know what I want. I can’t give you any guarantees. Can you stay with me tonight, maybe just hold me, and expect nothing more?”
“Is that what you’re offering here?”
I’ve never been so boldly honest with a guy about my needs. I’ve never thrown it out on the table like that before. I don’t know how he’s going to react. I’m numb from today—anyone would be, after seeing what I’ve seen.
“Carrie, that’s why I’m here. If companionship is what you need, then I’m here to give it to you.”
His words, and his acceptance of my vulnerability make me want to cry. I do need companionship; I do need to talk. I need all the things I just asked for, and it’s such a relief when he agrees to give them to me.
He stands up, walks over and gently collects me in his arms. He holds me to him and whispers in my ear. He strokes my hair and rubs my back and when I go limp in his arms he sinks down on the bed, pulling me to his body, holding me as I sit there. He says nothing and does nothing. All he does is listen to my pain, and tell me I don’t deserve any of this.
I tell him about everything Blake said and did on the case. I tell him about the interviews, and the way he blamed me for not realizing I had April’s purse. I tell him about Blake’s suspicions of reporters, and how he always thought I was going to betray him. Finally I tell him about Blake’s alcoholism and his rage. The times when he scared me, and the boy I used to know back in high school.
Jason listens. There’s nothing for him to say. He lets me talk through everything and process the chaos. I share about Brenda and George, and the way Blake is such a good uncle. I share about the photo albums and the old pictures of Neon that are in them at his apartment. I share my obsession.
Gulping, I admit that I thought about Blake for years after I last saw him, and my sense it was fate when I got to the police station and found he was on my case. I want to shrink with this last admission. My ego doesn’t want anyone to know that I think like this, but instead I just keep going.
I talk about the attack and how scared I was, about the feeling of powerlessness watching them hurt April, and how I lost all my strength. I share with him about forgetting my Judo training, and freezing up as I hid under the car. He holds me and tells me he’ll protect me. He tells me Blake is psychotic. He tells me there’s no way I should have gone through what I did. He tells me it’s not my fault.
Together we sit there. I feel myself start the healing process. I cry and I talk. I’m aware that soon he’ll have to leave. I don’t want him to leave yet. Having another person hold me and listen feels so good. I don’t want to let go, even if I’m not yet ready for more. I rest my head back on the pillow. He sits at the edge of the bed and holds my hand. I feel I’ll soon drift to sleep.
I open my eyes in a few minutes later. The energy between us has changed. I’m snuggled into bed with my hand around his, and I’ve rested them on my breasts. He looks down at me with eyes that are full of desire. I don’t say anything when he stretches out beside me and pulls me closer, I’m not sure what to say or think. There’s some attraction between us, but I’m not sure I’m ready to let him touch me that way. I feel so vulnerable right now. I don’t think I want anyone’s hands on my body, but I don’t know how to move away.
His hands are on my back, stroking gently and massaging my shoulders. It feels lovely and relaxing. Without my permission, by body starts to respond, waking up underneath his touch. He works his way up my neck and shoulders. He begins to massage the base of my skull, releasing the tension from the day. It sends shivers up and down my spine. His strong hands make rhythmic circles, around and around. The pads of his fingers send electrical sparks into my skull, and I snuggle closer, following his lead.
By the time he gets to my forehead I’m in another world, blissed out and open. This has to be the most intense massage I’ve ever received. He strokes my eyebrows and then my eyelids as I flutter each one closed. It’s such an intimate touch, and so soft. He’s stroking me the way you would touch a delicate flower. I love being treated like glass.
This is definitely crossing the line, but I don’t care. Having his hands on me feels good. Surely this is harmless. Me and a hot FBI agent.
I open my eyes and see that his face is closer than I thought. His lips are open and his pupils are as dilated, as mine must be. Our chests are virtually touching and with one flawless movement he pulls me even closer so I can feel the buttons of his shirt through my clothes. His hands are in my hair. Our eyes meet for a second as he asks my permission.
I want to feel his mouth on me, I do. I want his hands on me. I do. Bu
t something inside knows that I can’t. My heart has been bounced around enough today. Now is not the time for another ride. I start to shake my head but he leans in and kisses me before the words can escape my mouth. It’s a powerful kiss, deep and intimate. He opens my mouth with his tongue, taking me under until I have to either surrender or pull away.
Chapter Fifteen
Carrie
Jason takes charge with no hesitation. I don’t have the strength to fight it. My body wants him. He sits up and pulls me onto his lap. I can feel the muscles of his long legs underneath my thighs. He’s holding me there, waiting for me to react. I don’t want to wait. I want his mouth on me. I want to forget Blake. I want reality to disappear, so I kiss him.
Our lips meet and I can taste his power. He doesn’t hesitate, groaning into my mouth and pulling me against his chest. The pace of his breathing increases. I throw back my head as he ravishes my throat. My desire is fierce, and the feeling of his hard cock against the seam of my tracksuit drives me wild. I sink further into him. I’m already soaking wet. All I want to do is rip off my shirt.
He slides two hands up underneath the back of my tank top, releasing the catch of my sports bra, and pulls it over my head. My nipples are hard. I’m desperate to feel his fingers on them. His restraint is driving me wild. I continue to rock against him, whimpering for attention.
“Please, touch me please…”
I must have said the magic words because before I know it, he’s thumbing my nipples, squeezing and rubbing an exquisite tune of torture. I love the escape his hands on me offers. I lean back on the bed, oblivious to the outside world and lost in the pleasure as I give him full access. He takes a moment to bring my legs around to straddle him. I’m begging for his hands and his mouth in the spaces around the inactive wire device.
His hands are down around my hips. Thumbs circling the area above my panty line through the yoga pants. I want him to press into me, I want to feel my skin bruise under him. I want to feel something to make me remember I’m alive.
He reaches down and strokes my clit through the material. I’m sure I’m soaking already. His fingers tickle and rub me in the most delicious way, the friction driving me to the edge without warning. I let out a moan and beg him to do it faster. I think it’s my voice that makes him growl. When he sinks his teeth into the soft skin in my neck, the cross between pleasure and pain makes me insane with desire.
The combination of his fingers, his mouth and the shock of what’s just happened culminate in an orgasm that rips through my body like lightening. I’m bucking wildly against his cock, screaming his name, and crying tears of relief. My pussy continues to clench and shake as I come back to reality.
The look on his face is deeply satisfied. He’s so pleased with himself; so in control. It has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I just let this man own me and in doing so, had the orgasm of my life. This isn’t what I thought could happen. I feel powerful, alive and changed. From here I can take action. He’s made me feel like I can do this. I slide off his lap and go to the bathroom to dress myself while I catch my breath. Jason has made me do things I didn’t know I’d enjoy; things I want to experience over and over again.
I get back into the room and look at him again. He holds out a hand and pulls me to stand between his legs. He takes my jaw in his hand. The grip is not hard, but firm. He holds me there, assessing and watching my reactions to him.
The energy between us ticks and explodes. His hands are in my hair. I close my eyes and let him take control of my body. He leans forward and pulls me into his arms. His kiss is hard and his hands on my neck feel amazing. I want to melt into his arms, so I do, fully surrendering to the moment. I let go of all my anxiety to let him mold my body to his. I feel safe and I allow him to take my mouth.
He stops and looks into my eyes, standing up and pulling me into a long hug as I lean into him, giving his strength to me. I wait for him to make another move. He doesn’t. I sense he’s waiting for me to take the lead. I take a deep breath and I wait as well.
He’s tall, he’s handsome and he’s awfully close. The energy between us ratchets up again and I feel a sharp tug in my groin. His lips are so red and luscious and beautifully formed. They’re lips that are meant to be kissed. They’re so plump, and the urge to reach out and put my finger on the bottom one is overwhelming. I look him in the eye, and I do that with my index finger. He has one hand on my shoulder, and I return the favor.
I smile. This last twenty minutes of intimacy is way out of place for someone who just this morning was talking about inappropriate behavior between cops and witnesses or victims. The hypocrisy is thick, but the desire zig sagging between us is even more intense.
I breathe in. I see he does the same when his chest rises. Something about the act of taking a shaky breathe is so human and real, it makes the power dynamic between us fade away. I’m left standing before him as a woman, not a witness. His eyes tell me he feels the same way.
I sense he won’t make another move. I lean in slowly. His hand is still on my shoulder, and as I draw closer, he moves it over to my shoulder blades. He rubs insistently at the sore spot that always bugs me. His hands are strong and probing. I continue to move closer.
“Carrie,” he says. “Take off your top.”
My eyes widen at how direct he is. Without even meaning to, my fingers start straying towards the zip to follow his instruction. I slide the zip down slowly and once it’s open he says, “Take it off.”
I like a man to be manly, but there’s something even sexier about this. He knows what he wants. It completely removes the need for me to think.
I do it. I slide it off my shoulders. I’m standing before him in my yoga pants, sports bra and a thin tank top again. He’s fully dressed. The shirt and dress pants are not even wrinkled. He looks just as sharp as he did when he first came through my door early this morning.
“Take off the pants, Carrie.”
I know where this is going, but the commanding tone in his voice makes me curious. While I continue to meet his eyes, I slide the elastic waist band down and around my butt. They’re tight, so I take them off like I would a pair of stockings—roll by roll, and slowly while I bend over in front of him. I can see his posture stiffen a little. I’m arousing him. My breath is coming faster, and he hasn’t even touched me.
I stand in front of him in my underwear and tank top. I cock my hip to one side. It makes me look a little leaner around the thighs. I am worrying about my body, wondering if he approves or not. He obviously does. I quiet my mind and wait for his next instruction. It’s liberating, not having to think or choreograph how I will move or what needs to happen.
“Take your top off for me, Carrie. Do it now.”
I do it. I’m nearly naked. I resist the urge to cover myself. The lighting in the room is too bright, and I’m sure it’s not as forgiving as I want it to be. That’s the thing about playing with a man you don’t know. When it’s not dulled by alcohol or softened by darkness, it feels so much more real.
He looks at me with an absurdly satisfied look on his face. He must be pleased I’m here at his mercy. This is so different from Blake. It’s rougher and less emotional. It matters less. My heart’s not here. It’s just my body. I don’t normally seek out this submissive stuff, but it’s a buzz.
He reaches out and touches my breast, cupping it with his palm. I’m all pouty lips, dilated pupils and obedience. There’s something so powerful about being submissive. So many people get it wrong. I feel I have more control than he ever could right now. I am giving him my body, and it’s super fucking intense.
“Bend over, Carrie.” I’m just in my underwear now and I do as instructed, bending forward so my breasts fall into globes towards the floor. He stands above me, stroking the length of my back. From the spine to the base of my neck and back down again. I can see the muscles showing through his slacks. He’s probably a cyclist, with quads of steel and sturdy legs topped by a lean upper half.
I reach out and grab one of his ankles. This is almost a yoga pose. It positions my butt directly in his view. I can tell he likes it. He extends his touch to my ass, cupping it, measuring it, and for the first time, I feel openly objectified. Do I like this? I don’t know, but I want more of it.
I stand up of my own volition. His eyes are burning into me now. I put both my palms on his chest. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tells me to take his clothes off. I begin undressing him. We’re both silent as I slip off his jacket and lay it neatly on the back of the chair.
His hands point to his belt. I unbuckle it, and then undo his shirt, button by button. His skin is a deep tan under the white high quality cotton. There’s not a hair on his chest, and his nipples are small and pink. There are no tattoos on this man; just the scent of expensive aftershave. I slowly remove the shirt and wait. He’s left in his pants now, but he stops my hands as I reach for them.
“Turn around.”
I do exactly what he says and catch my breath as he pulls me into him and bends himself down. He cradles me from behind, biting gently on the back of my neck. His teeth on me are a shock, but he follows up each nip with a gentle kiss that sets my skin on fire.
I am wet already as desire for him throbs at my core. It’s tantalizing. The world and everything in it disappear. Both of his hands are holding my hips, and on my own, I move closer and rub my ass into his cock. I’m at a right angle to him and the hardening in his pants presses right up against the thin fabric of my G-string.
His palms separate my ass cheeks, and I can feel his eyes on me. He’s examining my pussy from behind. His gaze is matched with a murmur, which I take as approval, followed by the gentle strokes and tickles of his fingers as he plays and strokes at the lips of my soaking pussy. His fingers are covered in my juice. I press back into them. My growing desire makes me want to beg and thrust myself into his hands. He holds me still, continuing the sweet torture. I place my palms on the floor so I’m stable. I can feel my thighs start to shake with excitement. This is so sizzling hot. I want all of him, more of him. I want him inside me, but he’s the one in control, not me.