Filthy Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  “Hmmm,” he mutters, scratching his chin. “It could work. Just need some…” He glances up and our eyes follow, noticing an old beam running through the room. “We just need some rope to hang one of them, and then we can stage the other with a gun. We can handle the coroner, but we need the people inside this building to believe that they murdered each other.”

  “Works for me,” I say because I don’t give a fuck what we do with them as long as it clears Kennedy and me from any issues in the future.

  If anyone inside the Loft found out that Kennedy is an agent and that I knew or helped her, there would be a bounty on both of our heads. The last thing I want is to put her in further danger and ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to build.

  “I’m game,” she says quickly and bends over near where she was bound when I walked in. “I have rope, and there’s a gun. Let’s get to work.”

  Who the fuck is this creature in front of me?

  27

  Kennedy

  The next couple weeks are a whirlwind. Killing people isn’t standard procedure at Greenlight, and Nix, Wolf, and I all have to sit through many hours of interviews.

  We pulled off the murder-suicide crime scene for anyone outside the agency. I came up with the idea of leaving Hassan’s pants down to raise the question that it could have been a lover’s quarrel gone bad between the two of them. That was my final middle finger to that motherfucker.

  I should have tried harder to feign remorse over squeezing the life out of him since I’m only supposed to kill people in the direst of situations. It definitely qualified as dire—there was no way I was getting out of that basement alive if Hassan and Grayson had anything to say about it. But given that Greenlight sent Olivia and me overseas to save Hassan’s ass because the brass wanted to use him to get to bigger targets, I had to explain why taking him out had been my only choice.

  Nix is considered square with Greenlight now. Saving an agent’s life in the field earns a source the highest of accolades. But I’ve noticed he seems almost disappointed that his brief stint with Greenlight is over.

  Coco has decided to enroll in the trainee program for Greenlight. She’s never given up on her dream of becoming a spy and playing dress-up. In the short time she’s been there, she’s thrived. Nix is proud of her and supports her decision one hundred percent. She’ll be done with training in the next six months, and then she’s going to be unleashed on the world.

  Like right now, when he just fucked me into another dimension after we celebrated the conclusion of the Hassan-Grayson investigation with dinner at his place. I’m sweaty, sated, and possibly a little drunk, and I am almost asleep when he speaks.

  “Do you guys care about sex trafficking?”

  I lift my head from the pillow and furrow my brow. “Greenlight, you mean? Yeah, we’d definitely care if we had a lead on something like that.”

  He keeps tracing his fingertip down the line of my spine, the gentle touch nice right after he ravaged my body. Not that I’m complaining—he can ravage me anytime he wants.

  “But do you look the other way if a politically connected person is behind it?” he asks.

  I sit all the way up now. “Hell no. Are you kidding me? I’d never work for a place that—”

  He cuts me off, a corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. “Okay, Ken. I get it. I’m talking highly connected, though.”

  I glare at him, just barely able to make out the lines of his expression in the moonlight. “Quit playing coy. Tell me what you know.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s gonna cost you.”

  “Oh, yeah? I think you’ve been very well compensated right here in this bed. Every night for the past two weeks, in fact.”

  “True. But I get to spread those legs anytime I want since you’re my bitch now. And I make you come hard every time.”

  I climb on him, straddling his hips and wiggling just enough to make him groan. “You did not just call me your bitch.”

  “I believe I did.” He gives me a wickedly sexy grin and smacks my ass.

  “Nix!”

  “Kennedy.” He grabs my hips, sinking his fingertips into my ass cheeks. “Damn, my bitch has a fine ass.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

  I can’t help smiling at that.

  “You love me,” he says softly.

  “Yes, I do. And you love me, Ashton.” His legal name is Ashton Nixon, and though I still call him Nix ninety-nine percent of the time, I like that he trusted me enough to tell me that.

  “More than Cocoa Pebbles.”

  I laugh and bend down to kiss him. “So tell me.”

  He sighs softly, and I see the crease between his brows that only shows up when he’s concerned.

  “I’ve been seeing some traffic that I think is about the sale of underage kids. It’s not in the US, though.”

  I frown. “Shit. We may not have jurisdiction.”

  “I did a little checking, and the site is being hosted from the office of the US Ambassador to Russia.”

  I inhale sharply and sit up. “That’s…wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We have people who spend all day at their computers on those hacking sites and other people who take over at night. I wonder if they’ve seen anything like that. I haven’t heard anything.”

  Nix shakes his head. “Your people don’t scratch the surface of the black hat world. It’s complex, and it takes years to build the kind of connections that get you access to these places.”

  “Can I at least tell Rae, so she can have them try to find it?”

  He shrugs. “They won’t be able to. Someone needs to access their server room to get evidence of the site. Or use it to contact them and try to infiltrate it that way.”

  “Someone?” I can’t help the note of hope in my tone.

  Nix’s low note of laughter reminds me I have a hot man between my thighs right now. I’m suddenly feeling fully recovered and ready for more of him.

  “I’ve seen bad shit going down sometimes,” he says, his smile fading. “Shit like this, that I felt bad for looking the other way on. I can clean out the bank account of an asshole who likes underage girls, but that doesn’t stop him from doing it again.”

  “But if you could stop it…if you could work in the field and end something like a sex trafficking ring, would you?”

  “With the right partner, I would.”

  I smile, my heart pounding with excitement. “Yeah?”

  He nods. “Yeah. I think me and Olivia would be a great team.”

  “Asshole.” I slide off his lap, but he grabs my hips and forces me back.

  “You know I’m kidding.”

  I shrug and give him an exasperated glare. “It’s gonna take two amazing orgasms for me to forgive you.”

  “Done.”

  “Would you do field work for us on a case-by-case basis?”

  He laughs, smoothing his thumb over my rib cage and then down to my stomach. “I’m not sure the Greenlight honchos would go for that.”

  “They already asked me if I thought you’d be willing.”

  He arches his brows in surprise. “And you said?”

  “I said I thought it would depend on the case. And on their willingness to look the other way on your other…work.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “We can get this assignment. You’d have to pass some field tests on weapons—”

  “Easy. I could teach their classes on weapons.”

  “And physical fitness, which I’m positive you’ll ace. And sign all the agreements.”

  He considers. “Case-by-case, right? We do this job, and then I get to decide when I work for them next?”

  “Right. But I think once you find out about the perks—”

  “Perks, huh?” He runs a thumb over my taut nipple. “Tell me more.”

  “We’ll have to do several weeks of immersive Russian language training. Possibly room toget
her.”

  He squeezes my nipple. “That’s a nice perk. I can tell you to suck my dick in Russian.”

  “And I can tell you to fuck off in Russian.”

  He slides me off his lap and wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it as he looks at me. “You’re not fooling anyone. Nothing gets you hotter than me ordering you around in bed.”

  My pulse races as his gaze darkens. “I may like it.”

  “On your hands and knees,” he says. “Now.”

  I flip over, my body humming with anticipation as I put my ass in the air. Nix slaps it several times, just the way I like—hard. I don’t like play smacks, and fortunately, neither does he.

  He slides into me, groaning as he grips my hips and his balls smack into me. He doesn’t play-fuck, either. Nix is always intense in bed, and I love it.

  I push my hips back to meet his every thrust, our groans and grunts filling the room. When he takes my wrists and holds them behind my back, I moan with pleasure and press my cheek to the mattress. It’s bliss to have a man I trust so completely. No one else has ever had me in a position I couldn’t get out of if I wanted to, but I like giving Nix this control over me.

  Trust turns him on, and it turns me on, too. Given how few people we both trust, it’s a big deal.

  He slams into me faster now, getting closer. In all the times we’ve had sex—and there have been a lot—he’s never come first. I like to push him and see if I can make it happen, though.

  “Come in my pussy, Nix,” I say, moaning as he hits me in just the right spot.

  I can see him from the corner of my eye, my face turned up slightly from the mattress. His expression is focused—eyes closed and mouth slightly open. It’s going to take something dirtier to win at this game.

  “You like my sweet little cunt, don’t you? So, show me. Fuck me harder, Nix.”

  He thrusts into me so deep I cry out.

  “Give it to me,” I beg. “You first. Come hard, baby. I want your come running out of me.”

  “Ah, fuck.” He grunts and takes a handful of my hair, pulling me back. “Stop that shit.”

  “Never.” I turn and speak against his mouth. “I’m your greedy little slut, remember? I’m greedy for your come.”

  He takes my lip ring between his teeth and tugs, pressing his thumb to my clit at the same time. His restrained grunts with every thrust are more than I can take, and I fall over the edge, coming even harder than I did the first time.

  When he takes my hips and buries himself in me one final time, coming with a long groan, I know for sure I have a new rule—no more sleeping with men in the field because I have to. I’ll work around it. I’m in love with Nix, and it’s a deep, consuming love that won’t allow anyone but him to touch me.

  “Jesus, woman.” He falls back to the bed, breathing hard. “Your dirty talk is gonna kill me one of these days.”

  “You like it.”

  “I fucking love it. But I’ll be damned if I’ll ever come first.”

  “Such chivalry.”

  I lie down next to him on my side, putting a palm on his chest. “So we’re doing this Russia thing, aren’t we?”

  He turns his head to look at me. “Yeah. But I’m not staying in some fucking Super 8 motel that Greenlight puts us up in. I’ll cover our expenses.”

  “Deal.” I can’t keep from grinning. “Partner.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Me too.”

  He runs a hand over my hair, and I close my eyes, enjoying the soft side of him that I rarely see. The past few weeks have shown me how much I need Nix. Like his hacking, our relationship won’t always be black and white. There’ll be gray areas. We’ll both have to compromise and look the other way at times.

  I’m up for it, though. My work at Greenlight is for my uncle, the rest of my family, and the people I’m hoping to keep from becoming victims of the gun and drug trades.

  But Nix is just for me. There’s nothing gray about my love for him, or his for me. And there’s no one I’d rather have at my back.

  1

  Reagan

  I strain my wrists against the tension of the nylon rope binding them together. They don’t move at all, which is no surprise.

  My husband learned how to tie knots in the military, and he learned well. I think the only thing he’s more expert in is my body. His large hand is reminding me of that now as he trails it up my inner thigh, leaving a scorching ache in its wake.

  “Miss me, Reagan?” His deep voice is raspy with desire.

  He knows damn well I missed him, but this is our new game. And damned if it doesn’t make me hotter than anything ever has before.

  “Yes.” It’s more of a whimper than a word.

  I don’t whimper. At least, I didn’t until I married Jude Titan. He brings things out of me, though, and he glories in doing it.

  “Hmm.” He shakes his head and runs his palm back down my thigh, making me whine with disappointment. “I hardly even heard you. You must not have missed me much.”

  “I did.” My eyes widen as I blurt it out. “I missed you so fucking much, Jude. Touch me.”

  A smile quirks at the corner of his lips. “You want me to touch you?”

  “Jude…” Annoyance tinges my voice.

  Before he walked in the door a few minutes ago, he’d been gone for nearly three weeks on a work trip. Now that he’s running for governor, we don’t get as much time for anything anymore. Even sex.

  “Taking a tone with me?” He arches a brow with amusement. “I told you to expect this. Remember when you sent me that photo of your fingers in your pussy last week?”

  I try not to smile, but it’s so hard. He’d told me he was about to walk into a big fundraising dinner meeting over the phone, and I’d sent him the photo as soon as we hung up. He’d sent a growly response about having a hard-on and getting back at me.

  And my body had heated in response to those words. Our games are torture for me, but it’s a delicious torture I crave.

  “I remember,” I manage, sucking in a breath as his fingertips graze over my bare rib cage.

  He’d told me to be naked when he walked in the door, and I had been—and spread-eagled on our bed to boot. But after letting his dark gaze sweep me up and down as he stepped out of his shoes and took off his tie, he’d told me to get up.

  Moving painfully slowly, he’d taken the neatly wound red nylon ropes from a dresser drawer and drawn his gaze up and down me yet again, his charcoal dress pants tented with his erection.

  I’d expected a fast, hard fuck. My body had been ready for that. But he’d left me, nipples hard and pussy wet, making me stand facing him in front of a chest of drawers, where he’d made me spread my feet apart so he could bind each of my ankles to a leg of the dark bureau.

  And now I stand here, legs open, nipples still hard and pussy still very wet, as he taunts me.

  “I’m at a disadvantage, babe,” he says in a low tone, unbuttoning the top button of his white dress shirt. His eyes are locked on mine as he slowly moves to the second one. “The other men I travel with can look at the female lobbyists with legs for days. They can spend the night with the women we meet at events who throw themselves at us. But me…” He shakes his head slightly as he reaches the fifth button of his shirt.

  I swallow hard, my body practically throbbing with awareness of him. He’s several feet away, but I caught a note of his body wash when he was tying me up, and I can still smell it. My body knows that scent—it means desire so powerful I have no choice but to give in.

  The corners of his lips quirk up a little. He knows what he’s doing to me right now.

  “I can’t do any of that,” he continues in that low, confident tone I fell in love with when he was my opponent for the Senate seat he now holds. “Because I know I already have the sexiest, smartest, most breathtaking woman waiting for me at home. Other women don’t compare. Only you can satisfy me, Reagan. Only my wife.”

  I lick my lips and str
ain against the rope on my wrists again, to no avail. My hands are staying bound at the small of my back until Jude decides otherwise.

  “That’s right,” I say, pushing my chest out slightly. “So get over here and let me do it. Untie me so we can fuck.”

  “Yeah?” His smile slides away, and his eyes darken with hunger. “That does sound good right now. I could just pick you up and slide you up and down on my dick until I come inside that hot little pussy.”

  My lips part. “Yes. Let’s do that.” I unconsciously tug at the rope around my wrists.

  He tosses his shirt onto our king-sized four-poster bed, reaching for the bottom of his white undershirt and tugging it up and over his head.

  Even after five years of marriage, he still makes my heart race. My gaze wanders across the lines of muscle and dark swirls of ink. That broad, powerful chest is mine. Only I get to feel the dips and curves he works so hard for in the weight room. And God, do I want to feel them now.

  “Nah.” His teasing smile returns. “I’m enjoying this too much.”

  “Asshole,” I mutter.

  “What was that?” His hands freeze over his belt buckle.

  “I said you’re an asshole.” I glare at him. “It’s been three weeks, Jude. I’m dying here. You told me not to masturbate, and I haven’t. But you’ve probably been jerking it every night.”

  Jude’s expression turns serious. “Not even once, babe. I promised you, and I always keep my promises.”

  I believe him. He’s about to poke a hole through his pants with his hard-on. He just has more patience than I do.

  “If I’m an asshole, maybe I should just go catch some news on TV and leave you here to think about things for a bit.” He steps close enough to me that I can feel the heat of his big, powerful body.

  “No.” My whimper is back. “I’m…sorry I called you an asshole.”

  He steps back and returns his hands to the belt buckle, moving painfully slowly.

  “You’re the most headstrong woman I’ve ever known.” The belt buckle clanks as he unfastens it. “It’s one of the things I love most about you. But in here, I make the rules, don’t I?”