Sparks (A Special Agent Novel Book 1)

by C. P. Mandara

  “But that’s cheating,” I howled, incensed that he would pull this stunt on me.

  “It is, but you’re the one who’s tied up and wants an orgasm, so the ball is firmly in my court.”

  “One day, Mr. Leveritt, I am going to cut off…”

  “Your deal expires in three seconds. One, two…”

  “I’ll take it. I’ll take it,” I yelled. He didn’t give me a chance to say that there were certain conditions I wanted to add to his offer, because his mouth was already where I wanted it, and I thought it prudent not to distract him.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” I began mewling within seconds.

  “I don’t think I can do this, James. It hurts too much, it…” There was a flurry of flailing limbs as I tried to launch the man off me, but he was far too strong and my arms were going nowhere. Thankfully, he knew what I wanted, far better than I did myself. In less than thirty seconds, I was screaming uncontrollably and almost wished I had the ball gag back. There wasn’t going to be any containing this beast. This wasn’t any old orgasm, oh no. It wasn’t even a pretty damn decent orgasm. This was the mother of all orgasms, and my body didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Gah, gah, gah.” See? I couldn’t even speak. My mouth made those little round ‘O’ style movements that fishes were fond of, but I couldn’t have cared less. My hips were bucking up off the bed in fantastic abandon, and you’d have thought I was performing one of the most enthusiastic legs, bums, and tums workouts you’d ever laid eyes on. I was a mess. All movements were instinctive, and I had no choice but to let myself go. The pleasure, on the other hand, was intense, powerful, and earth shattering. This was probably the closest I’d come to heaven in my lifetime, and now that I’d had a taste of what it could offer, I just wanted more.

  “Oh my God, can you do that again?” I finally managed to whisper, still slightly awestruck

  “What, right now?”

  I think James was only half joking with that comment.

  “No, not right now. Later. Could you do it again, though? Or was that a one off, fluke kind of thing?” Staring at him intently, as my body still rippled with sharp contractions, I basked in the afterglow of perfection.

  “It can be repeated, Lois.” James sat up on the bed and produced a padlock key.

  “Can I unlock you now, or are you going to try and castrate me? If you are, you can stay there until I’ve had a shower and made my peace with God.”

  It was my turn to grin. “You’re of no use to me castrated. You’re safe for now.”

  James shook his head, but there was an amused gleam in his eyes. “That’s a relief.” Leaning over me, he made short work of removing the handcuffs, and then helped me rub a little life back into my numb wrists and arms. “When they tie you up at CB, you’ll have to do this part yourself when they’ve finished with you. If you find moving difficult at first, just remember to move around as much as you can and, slowly, your circulation will come back.”

  I nodded. Every time we spoke about CB, my stomach dropped a mile or so underground, but it was not to be helped. I was doing this, and no matter what stunts they pulled on me, I was taking Dumortier down. “Yes, Sir.”

  “You’re learning. Right, while I go take a shower, you can put dinner on. It’s in the fridge - all you need to do is put it in the oven. Try not to kill yourself, okay?”

  “You’ve heard about my culinary skills, huh?” It was no secret that I was an appallingly bad cook. James had probably managed to find that somewhere in my resume, if he’d done a bit of digging, and the man looked like he enjoyed a bit of shovel work.

  “Actually, I think you’d handle a set of kitchen knives expertly. Not in the traditional sense, perhaps, but I’ve heard your work is pretty good.”

  “Piss me off and I might show you just how good, Mr. Leveritt.” I blew him a kiss as his delicious ass disappeared from view. I pouted at the loss.

  “You just earned another spanking for foul language, Lois.”

  “Can I suck your cock after dinner? Pretty please?” I had no idea where that had come from, but I meant it. It was probably the overload of oxytocin floating around my bloodstream. Somehow I was going to have to get these hormones under control!

  “You’re learning, Lois. You’re learning.” The slam of a bathroom door indicated our conversation time was over, but it was a good few minutes before I managed to get my extremely happy and prettily glowing butt off the bed.

  Seventeen

  It was at least ten minutes before I finally managed to drag myself back to the kitchen. Edging was exhausting stuff. How did James do this on a daily basis? I mean, I thought I was tough, but life as a sex slave was going to compare favourably to one of my monster gym workouts if that was the kind of thing I could expect. So, even if they didn’t let me orgasm over at CB, at the very least I wouldn’t be putting on too much weight. Rolling my eyes at the ridiculous train of thought, I decided to focus on food. Getting his Majesty’s dinner in the oven was probably pretty important if I wanted to have a chance at a reasonably nice evening.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be crawling?”

  A familiar female voice nearly shocked the living daylights out of me, and I immediately tried to cover up all of my various naked parts, which was a problem, as I only had two hands. Quickly running for cover behind the dining table, I used one of the solid wood chairs as a shield while I tried to figure out why in hell Miss Sharkey would come and visit me here.

  “You’re going to have to work on that. The gentlemen at CB will expect you to be pretty comfortable with nakedness. I thought James would have managed to train you a little better by now.” She eyed me imperiously, and I think my internal organs began to wither and die.

  “I’ve only been here a day, and you’re my boss,” I managed to squeak. “There are some people who shouldn’t see you naked, and you are most definitely one of them.”

  “I’ve seen plenty of naked bodies before, Lois. If it makes you feel any better, you’re going to be seeing mine later.”

  “I’m going to what?” Castrating was once again firmly back on the cards, and James was going to rue the day he met me. Did the man not think it sensible to run this kind of scenario by me first? Shit, shit, shit.

  “Right now you’re probably thinking this is the worst thing that could ever happen to you, but it isn’t, Lois.” Sharkey then proceeded to turn her back to me whilst she headed over towards the oven. Fiddling with the dials, a light suddenly flared on and a low drone emitted from its direction. Opening the fridge door, she then pulled out a large casserole dish. Folding a tea towel over in two to grab the dish, it was inside the oven before I could blink.

  “We’re having Ratatouille, in case you were wondering,” she said.

  I wasn’t, but I kept that to myself.

  “James is a marvelous cook. You’ll be getting a little slice of heaven whilst you’re under his roof. He was professionally trained in France. Food still means something over there, I hear.” The oven door slammed shut smartly.

  “Where did he learn all his other professional skills?” My voice might have held a teensy bit of sarcasm. Seriously, how did a person go from Masterchef to assassin?

  “They came later, after someone tried to disembowel him, or so I heard.” Miss Sharkey then went back to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of white wine, and busied herself with opening it.

  “It wasn’t my intestines they were after.” James sauntered into the kitchen looking perfectly calm, cool, and collected in his trademark black tee and blue jeans. Was there any other version of the man? I gritted my teeth. Of course he had known Sharkey would be here. I was the only one kept in the dark around these parts.

  “Lois, you should be on the floor. You’ve already earned so many swats this evening, I can barely keep count.” Motioning with his index finger in a downward movement, I sighed and did as I was bid. There was two against one. I was doomed.

  Meanwhile, Miss Sharkey poured out a larg
e glass of wine and handed it to James. “What were they after?”

  He smiled at her. “Something a little lower.”

  “Ahh. Dipping it about in the wrong place, were we?” She raised an eyebrow and smirked at him.

  “I was dipping it about in the right place at the wrong time.” His smile was rueful. James then took a generous swig of his wine and grimaced. “What the hell is that?”

  “Pino Grigio.” She twirled her own wine round and sniffed at it dubiously.

  “It’s vile. There’s a bottle of Puilly Fumé on the door. I think that was meant for cooking.”

  Miss Sharkey took a small sip and frowned. “It is vile, but I enjoy watching a man suffer. Drink it up and be a good boy.”

  James stiffened, and his demeanour suddenly hardened. “You’re Lois’s superior, not mine. Remember that I’m doing you a favour here, not the other way around.”

  “Relax, darling. I’m just teasing you. However, I didn’t come here just for the fun part, I’m afraid.” She looked pointedly at me.

  James walked quietly over to the stainless steel sink and tipped the contents of his wine glass down the plughole. His head dropped for a second, as if he was bracing himself for the worst. “Give me the bad news.” Although his voice was calm and devoid of inflection, there was an undercurrent of something there. For the tenth time, I wondered just how much it would take to ruffle this man’s feathers.

  “Dumortier is up to his old tricks and we need to up your schedule a little. You had three weeks, you now have one.” Sharkey then downed the contents of her glass in one foul swoop. It was almost as if she was expecting what was about to come next.

  Cowering behind my chair, I watched the storm begin to brew in James’s face. Everything started with his eyes, which were now black, but then there were a dozen lines on his face, a stiffening of his back, and a straightening of his shoulders. The wine glass stem he had been gently gripping was now being crushed beneath his fingers, and I wondered, for a brief moment, if it would stand up under the strain.

  “I can’t send her in there with a week’s training. The mission is already suicide. That would be utter madness.”

  James had perfected his glower, but Miss Sharkey didn’t seem overly affected by it. There was a slight tapping of her French manicured nails upon her crystal glass, but nothing more to indicate that she gave two hoots as to his concerns.

  “Tell you what, why don’t you throw in a tombstone as an advance purchase, and we just send her in green?” James sneered at her and began walking forward. His body language was threatening and I, for one, was glad I was hiding behind the dining table.

  “He’s going for two hundred girls this time, James. We can’t let that happen.” Miss Sharkey carefully set her wine glass down on the kitchen counter and crossed her arms against her chest. This was something I understood. A display of power. Good for her. I didn’t think it would be of much use against James, though.

  “You haven’t been at all worried by his business ventures before, Sharkey. What’s got your panties in a twist?”

  “You’ll just have to untangle them later and find out, James.”

  Raising his head slowly, he shook his head. “She won’t be ready in a week. My decision is final. You want to train her up, be my guest.” James indicated my cowering body with a flourish of his wrist.

  “Let’s ask Lois and see what she says,” said Sharkey.

  Great. They were dragging me into their argument now. This was just what I needed.

  “Let’s not.” James’s tone was clipped. “Lois wants to get herself killed, and you’re actively encouraging her.”

  “I do not,” I said, almost outraged.

  “Shut up,” they both replied in unison, without either of them looking at me. Great. I was officially a nobody.

  James then yanked open the fridge door and pulled out another bottle of wine. The good one, I assumed. He then proceeded to open it, and the room was painfully silent as he concentrated on his task. There was me hiding behind my chair, careful to keep my gaze pointing downwards, and then there was Sharkey, with her folded arms and bored expression. This should be interesting.

  Taking a generous gulp of his freshly poured wine, this time he sighed appreciatively. “So what aren’t you telling me, Elizabeth?”

  There was a long pause as Sharkey considered her answer, which gave me a chance to try and figure out how they were on a first name basis.

  “Why don’t you try and fuck it out of me, James? We both know you’re good at that.”

  “I don’t fuck these days, or haven’t you heard?” His voice was terse, his back to her as he refilled her wine glass. My eyes were now up off the floor, and they would dearly have loved to have caught a glimpse of his face, but he was not playing ball. How annoying. Still, I gathered she was here for a while, judging by her earlier comment, so by the end of the evening I’d have a rough idea of whether they’d been together or not. Although it was difficult to admit, if they had been ‘a thing,’ it was going to bother me. There would be no point examining the ‘whys’ and ‘wherefores’ right now, mostly because I knew I wouldn’t like them.

  “What a shame. It was one of your best talents, darling. Let’s hope someone can change your mind.” Sharkey began unbuttoning her black, sheer silk blouse then, and I wanted the floor to explode upwards and suck me ten miles underground. Actually, make that twenty.

  “Two weeks. I can work with two weeks.” James didn’t look at her chest, which was now fully on display, revealing a sexy black lace bra that must have borne an expensive designer tag.

  “Lois, can you pay really careful attention and listen to everything James tells you? If you can, you can take the intensive James Leveritt course and be out of here in a week. Does that work for you?” Again, she didn’t look at me. Her voice was aimed over her shoulder in my direction, but her eyes were firmly on James.

  “Say no, Lois.” This time, he did look at me, and his eyes were pleading. Why? Why did the man care whether I lived or died? Most of the people in my business were hardened to such things. Casualties were an unfortunate but regular consequence in the little games we played. If James had been one of Sharkey’s trainees, he’d have patted me on the head, pointed me in the direction of Carte Blanche, and his conscience could then rest easy. This didn’t appear to be the case, and I couldn’t understand why.

  Sharkey then took his face in her hands and pulled his gaze downwards, letting them centre on her breasts. Pulling apart her black silk blouse, she grabbed his hands in hers and drew them around her waist.

  “You said you’d be able to do this, James. Don’t make me regret my earlier leniency.”

  Her earlier what? Now I was utterly confused.

  “I can do this, but I need the amount of time we agreed on in order to do it properly.” There was a distinct snick of a bra strap being released, and I closed my eyes, unable to watch.

  “Lois.” Miss Sharkey’s voice was sharp. “We aren’t doing this for us. This is a show, purely for your benefit. You need to get used to watching people getting naked and having sex. Whilst your embarrassment is awfully cute, it will have no place at CB. They will expect you to be very comfortable around naked bodies, no matter what they might be doing.” The emphasis on ‘doing’ left me under no illusions as to what she meant. No, no, no, I whispered to myself.

  “Don’t I get a chance to fight you for it?” I asked miserably, and although I knew such an attempt would be futile, it would put off the inevitable for a few more minutes.

  “You let her fight you? What madness is this, James? For a start, she can’t possibly hope to best you, and you’re supposed to be showing her who’s boss. Your job is to cross off each damn thing on that list as fast as you possibly can. We aren’t in kindergarten, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Say one more word and I’ll walk away, Elizabeth. I’ve had just about enough. We both know that Lois is not really cut out to be a submissive, and if she was, you wouldn�
�t have employed her in the first place. So I’ll help her get through that transition in any way I can, and as we both know she can’t win against me, it’s not really a problem, is it?”

  “Perhaps we could send you instead, James? That might get the job done a little quicker.” Sharkey pouted at him, and then winked.

  James responded by sucking a nipple into his mouth, and judging by the sharp intake of Sharkey’s breath, he bit her, before caressing the poor little nub better with his tongue.

  “I can’t go in, and we both know why, so stop talking crap,” he growled.

  “Pity. Dumortier would carve you up so prettily.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” He then bent her backwards as his mouth took the other nipple and suckled upon it. She arched gracefully against him and moaned.

  I wanted to rip her throat out. Almost frozen into place behind my chair, my body was attacked by an emotion it didn’t recognise. Unfortunately, Sharkey did.

  “Looks like your little pet is green with envy, James. I hope you warned her not to fall for you.” Sharkey looked over at me, her eyes gleaming with predatory prowess.

  “Oh, I credit Lois with far more intelligence than you, Sharkey. She knows better than to fall for a bad boy. You, on the other hand, barely know your left elbow from your right…”

  “Thank you, James. Let’s stick with the plan, okay? I don’t really want to air our dirty laundry here. It was a long time ago, so let’s keep it that way.”

  “Oh, I intend to,” he replied, which probably didn’t have the effect it was supposed to, as his hands were all over her.

  My hands held the tough oak chair in a crushing grip, and I took out what little frustrations I could upon it. Control this, Lois. They’re making you watch them for a reason, and all will be explained in a moment. Hopefully.