by Renee Rose
There’s only one bedroom.
“I’ll take the couch,” Charlie offers as if guessing where my thoughts are going. “You three can share the bed.”
I’m not sure why I find that thought so disappointing. What did I think, I’d be having more sex with Charlie with my sister and nephew a few feet away?
Hard no. Sigh.
Besides, we’re not on a date. We’re on a mission.
I’m not certain why Dune picked such an out-of-the-way place for a safehouse. “Is this where you were when you said you spent the night out of the city?”
He looks over from the refrigerator where he’s putting away groceries. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to be alone. And I like to... explore out here.”
Huh. Charlie Dune, mountain man. I had no idea, but it makes him all the more appealing.
There’s a television, which I doubt Charlie watches, but he gets it hooked up and streams in the latest Star Wars movie for Grady. Then he beckons me to the desk. I follow because we need to talk.
“My sister and Grady—” I begin in a hushed voice, stepping close to him so we can whisper.
“Are on a need-to-know basis,” he finishes for me. My skin prickles at his proximity. Even in normal clothes, Charlie could never be mistaken for a civilian. There’s too much power, too much energy packed into his hard, muscled body. “I would never tell them anything that would put them in jeopardy.”
I nod.
“Show me everything you have on this case.”
This case.
It seems strange to call my father’s death a “case,” but I guess it is.
“All right. What I know is my father’s death coincided with the signing of the Chapultepec Peace Accord ending the civil war in El Salvador. As I’m sure you know from your American history, our government had an interest in keeping the military-led government in place despite their horrific acts of violence and human rights abuses.
“The story I heard growing up was my father was on Marine security detail for one of the U.S. Government officials and was killed by a left-wing political activist. He was given a hero’s burial. So, when I found out he was killed in the line of duty while on a mission for the CIA, I started digging.
“What mission did we have? Who really killed him? I don’t know why I needed to know, but—”
Charlie waves his hand. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” His tone implies he understands too well the obsession that came over me to find the truth. “So, what did you find?”
“Absolutely nothing. So, I called Director Scape. And he—” I grind my teeth at the memory, my stomach twisting up in a knot.
Charlie’s watching me closely. “Tell me everything,” he warns like he knows this is the part I want to leave out.
“He implied my father went rogue and did something bad. That I’d be better off remembering him as a hero because if I found out what really happened, it would change how I felt about him.”
“Did you believe him?”
I shrug. “At first I did. But the way he ended the conversation, with such a strong warning not to keep looking, well—” I chew the inside of my cheek. “It made me suspicious. Of a cover-up.”
“Okay. Then what?”
“He wanted to know how I found out my father was a covert operative. That’s when I made up the journal thing. He said it was government property, and I had to turn it in, so I said I had already destroyed it.”
“That was your mistake,” Charlie says. “If you’d turned in something manufactured and innocuous, they might have put this to bed. Or even if you promised to turn something in.”
I suck my cheek in between my teeth. “I could still do that. Call in and offer it. Apologize for everything. Maybe they’d let me keep my job.”
“Yes. That’s an option. It has risks.”
“Which are?”
“There will certainly be disciplinary action, for both of us.”
A spike of fiery regret slices through my belly. One phone call, one decision and I cost Charlie his job, possibly his freedom.
And he hasn’t once complained or pointed it out to me.
“There may be manufactured charges or inflated ones. Enough to put us in jail and out of their way. Depends on how well you’re trusted and who’s willing to go to bat for you. Or how afraid they are of you discovering the truth.”
“What about you?” I whisper.
He shrugs. “I’m useful to them. I might get a slap on the wrist, especially if I play you up as my lover.”
I’m pretty sure the blood drains out of my face. Did he—? Is that why—?
“No,” he says firmly as if he’s guessed my thoughts. “I didn’t have sex with you to cover my bases. Not even close.” He speaks so certainly, with total conviction, I have no choice but to believe him. My anger drains away, leaving only raw vulnerability.
Damn my lips for trembling.
“Hey.” His fingers tangle in the back of my hair, and he uses it to lift my face to his. His lips brush across mine. “Sex with you was completely out of my control. I didn’t plan it, I don’t know it if was wise, but there was no helping it. What I feel for you is pure, raw animal magnetism. The only thing that would’ve stopped me was you. I’ll always respect your wishes. I hope you know that. It’s not a requirement for my help.”
Something rearranges in my chest. A warmth and lightness steal through me like rays of sun after rain. “Thanks,” I mumble and try to drop my head, but Charlie won’t allow it. He keeps me captive in his iron grip, the gentleness in his expression in direct opposition to the dominating hold.
“Believe it, Annabel.”
Tears pop into my eyes. “I do,” I whisper.
He claims my mouth with the passion, the fervor of before. His lips drag across mine, open and close over mine, devouring me. “You’re like an addiction,” he murmurs when he’s thoroughly taught me a lesson in submission, and my pussy is wet for him.
I wriggle in my chair, needing relief, but it’s not destined to happen. I feel my sister’s curious gaze on us from across the cabin and Grady’s right there, too.
Damn.
“Keep talking,” he orders, releasing my hair like nothing just happened. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
My voice shakes a little as I tell him about my boss calling and her direct warning, and about leaving a message with Senator Flack.
“What number did you leave for him to call you back on?”
I glance at my purse. “The burner phone.”
Charlie’s mouth quirks. “Good.”
“So, what now? Should I call my boss? Tell her what’s happened?”
Charlie has that blank expression on his face, which I believe means there’s a shit-ton going on inside his head.
“You could. What do you predict will happen?”
“She’ll tell me to come in. Set up a location to meet.”
“And?” I get the feeling Charlie’s asking only to force me to think this through, that he’s already run every scenario available to me.
“Then, like you said, there could be disciplinary action. And there won’t be answers. If I go in now, I’ll never find out what happened.”
He nods.
I clench my teeth. “I need to find out what happened. What they don’t want me to know.”
“Then we keep pressing,” Charlie says. The fact he used we and not you nearly makes me weep with gratitude. “Sarah and Grady are safe. We investigate the clues we have. You can always call in later. Produce a fake journal and call a truce. It’s an option. But not your only option.”
I reach out to grab his hand. “Thank you.”
4
Charlie
Grady’s up almost as early as I am, padding into the kitchen at the first light of dawn. I’ll bet that drives his mom nuts.
“You hungry?” I ask.
He shrugs.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” I set
a box of Golden Grahams on the table with a bowl. “Have some cereal.”
He seems to like that and tears open the box. The cereal spills on the table, but I don’t say anything, just pour milk into his bowl and drop a spoon into it. “Have at it.”
He shovels a bite into his mouth. “Thanks.”
Sarah comes out next, but Annabel hits the shower. I get itchy thinking about her being naked with just a thin door between us. Last night, I had to leave the cabin because the desire to open that bedroom door and throw Annabel over my shoulder was too strong.
I shifted and hunted most of the night. I’m just glad I found my way back and was able to change back to human form before morning.
Annabel wanted to hack into the CIA last night, but she was drained from the stress of the day. She’s hoping to crack it today.
Sarah stands at the window, looking out. “It’s beautiful here.”
“Where are you from?” I realize I don’t know, just that they received plane tickets to fly to L.A. yesterday.
“Oklahoma.”
The bathroom door opens, and Annabel emerges—in a goddamn towel. My entire body flushes with heat, and something wonky happens with my vision. Fuck—is it my wolf trying to come out?
What in the hell does that mean?
“Is it all right to leave the cabin? Could I take Grady out for a hike?”
I shove my hands in my pockets to hide my boner. “Yeah, sure. It’s safe here.”
“Okay, we’ll be back in an hour or so.” She turns to Grady, who’s already out of his seat at the table, pulling on his shoes. “Ready, bud?”
“I’m ready. You’re the one who’s taking so long.”
She rolls her eyes and pulls on a light jacket, and the two of them leave the cabin.
“Charlie?” Annabel calls from the bedroom.
“Yeah?”
“Can you come in here for a second?”
My hand goes to my pistol even though I don’t smell or hear an intruder. Still, there’s an oddness to Annabel’s tone that has my skin prickling.
Then I nearly fall on my ass.
Because Annabel Gray is stark naked, pulling me into the bedroom. She drops to her knees and unbuckles my belt.
“Fuck,” I mutter, drawing in breath to oxygenate my brain because all the blood just rushed south.
“I just wanted to thank you,” she purrs as she frees my erection.
My hand tangles in her wet hair. “Oh yeah?” If I were a gentleman, I’d tell her no thanks was necessary, but there’s no way in hell I can refuse this gift. Not after I spent the entire night fantasizing about exactly how her crimson lips would look stretched over my cock. She fists the base and sticks out her tongue, rubbing the head over it, just enough to moisten the taut skin.
I groan. “Don’t tease,” I pant. “Don’t fucking tease. I’ve been hard for you since the second I took the condom off last time.”
Her gray gaze lifts to meet mine, and she opens her mouth and engulfs my length.
I’m an asshole because the beast in me roars to the fore. I grab her by the hair to hold her still and thrust deep into her throat.
She gags, but still sucks hard when I pull out.
“Oh God,” I groan. “That’s so fucking good.” I thrust again and again, relishing the heat, the way her tongue glides along the underside of my shaft, the way she hollows her cheeks to pull. “Annabel, it’s not fair.”
She pops off. “What’s not fair?”
“You shouldn’t be able to do this to me. It shouldn’t be legal, it’s too fucking good.” I’m babbling like an idiot. It’s so unlike me, but I can’t seem to stop.
I tighten my grip in her hair and pump fast. My eyes roll back in my head.
Annabel’s making little sounds around my cock. Aroused sounds. When she reaches her fingers between her legs, I growl.
She needs me there.
Now.
I pull out and lift her to her feet with unnatural strength. In a flash, she’s on her back on the bed, and I yank her thighs until her ass reaches the edge.
She spreads them wide. Beautiful. So, beautiful. Naked and lush and perfect.
Condom. Thoughts barely reach my brain. Somehow I find protection in my wallet and get the prophylactic on. Her pussy’s wet. I can tell just by her scent, but I rub the head of my sheathed cock over her entrance. When I find it as juicy as expected, I thrust in.
She cries out, arching her breasts toward the ceiling.
“Annabel,” I croak. I grip her thighs, holding her captive for my rough assault. If I could hold back, I would, but it’s impossible. Everything I learned in my youth about being a skilled and tender lover is lost.
I’m the monster now, the beast. All I can do is rut like a wild animal.
Unbelievably, Annabel doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’s as frenzied as I am, crying out, fisting the bedcovers. I pick up her wrists and pin them over her head. She rolls her hips, moans wantonly. I pound so hard, her ass bounces on the bed, and the bed itself skids across the room until it hits the far wall.
“Gotta fuck you. Gotta fuck you so hard,” I rumble.
“Yes, yes, Charlie.”
I love the way she gives herself to me. The same way she did back in her apartment—with total abandon, total willingness. It feeds me, makes my drive to take her even stronger.
And I want it all. Some base instinct in me, the beast in me, wants to claim every part of her body, every orifice.
I pull out and flip her over, giving her ass a hard slap.
“Oh!” Her cry of surprise only makes my throbbing dick harder. There’s lubricant in the bedside table drawer. I bought it last week when I jacked off twenty times thinking about my beautiful handler. I lunge for it, squeeze an ample amount over my cock.
My brain’s telling me no. Trying to put on the brakes, but the wolf won’t listen. He wants to claim. Needs to claim. He’s dying to claim. And for some reason, taking her ass is important. The final fucking frontier.
I squeeze some over her anus, she jerks, and looks over her shoulder at me. I can tell by her wide eyes she’s an anal virgin. I should stop now. Ask permission. Talk about it.
I try to speak, but the words come out as gibberish. All I can decipher is her name. And there seems to be the attempt at a question. Something like “IneedtofuckyourasscanIfuckit Annabel?”
I’m already rubbing my thumb over her anus, massaging the tight ring of muscles open.
“Charlie?” There’s fear in her voice—fear I should heed.
Instead, I’m making her promises. “I’ll make it good, sweetheart. I promise I’ll make it good.”
My thumb enters her, and she moans, relaxes for me.
“Good girl. Let me in.” I fuck her with my thumb until the muscles have loosened and stretched, and she’s used to the sensation. Then I line my lubed cock up with her back pucker. “That’s it, baby. Take my cock.”
She whines a bit but lets me in, and I don’t know how, but I manage to go slow, slow, slow. I fill and stretch her, easing in, inch by inch.
“Fucking Christ, Annabel. Christ!” I’m lost—in awe of her trust, her total allowance.
She wriggles her hand under her hips, and I move to help her, covering her fingers with my own, rubbing her clit as I pump into her ass.
“Charlie... Charlie. Oh, Charlie.”
“That’s it, sweet girl. You’re taking me so well.”
Her pussy is beyond juicy. It’s the wettest, most swollen piece of heaven I’ve ever felt. I flick my finger against her clit as I claim her ass.
My balls draw up tight, thighs start to quake.
“Yes, Annabel. Fuck, yes.” I shove three fingers in her pussy as I come, hoping to give as good as I got. Her muscles flutter against them, so I know she came too.
I’m delirious. Grateful and satisfied and still crazed for her all at once. I pull out, but I haven’t had enough.
* * *
Annabel
Charlie tur
ns me around again and fists the hair at the top of my head. He uses it to tip my chin up and kisses me thoroughly. No, it’s less a kiss and more a devouring. He takes my mouth, drags his lips along my jaw, down my neck. He bites my shoulder.
“Fuck, Annabel. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.”
Tears pop into my eyes at that. The rough admission seems so out of character for the secret agent who never shows his cards.
I’ve never felt this way with anyone before either. I’ve never even experience one-tenth of this much passion. Charlie is rough but so self-assured. Yeah, I was scared to try anal, but I trusted him. He’s good at everything he does. And he was definitely expert in that respect.
My pussy and anus throb a bit, but it a delicious, well-used sort of way. I certainly received as much pleasure as he took—maybe more.
He pulls back and just stares down at me, still holding me captive by the hair. I love being at his mercy—knowing his body is a trained weapon, that he’s capable of subduing me in a myriad of ways. One yank and he could snap my neck.
But he won’t.
He’s here to protect me. He may have just given up his job for me. Hell, his life is probably forfeit now.
That’s why I wanted to thank him with the blowjob while Sarah and Grady are out. It’s not because I couldn’t stop thinking about the frenzied way he took me yesterday up against the wall or because I needed him to help me forget again.
“Funny,” I touch his cheek, “your eyes look blue right now.”
He freezes for a moment, then blinks and retreats, backing off me. “Do they? My father’s used to change, too.” His voice sounds strange. But then he turns back to me and scoops me off the bed.
He’s impossibly strong. He carries me like a child to the bathroom where he starts the shower. “Let me clean you up.” His eyes are back to green.
I stand and watch him undress, dragging my lower lip through my teeth when I catch sight of his ribbed abdominals, the hard pecs. He’s covered in scars—knife wounds, bullet holes, burn marks—each one only adds to the stark beauty of his warrior body. He disposes of the condom in the trash and kicks off his boxer briefs.