“I want you again, Dorin,” she said in the smokiest, sultriest voice he had ever heard. Her mouth was still against his, and he felt as if he could drink the passion in her words.
Oh, fuck. He wanted that too. He pulled his head back just slightly. “Are you sure? You're not too sore?” The last thing in the world that he wanted was to hurt her again.
She shook her head, and resumed her devouring of his mouth. He pulled back again. “But, I don't have another condom.” Why he didn't keep more than one in his wallet suddenly made no sense to him. He could pull out. Even though that wasn't as safe as a condom, it was better than nothing. And he was clean, disease testing was part of his annual Agency-required physical, and he hadn't been with anyone in over a year.
Suddenly, all of his excuses seemed like the most ridiculous things ever. Who was he to stop this insatiable, gorgeous woman who was practically trying to eat him alive? He was an idiot if he tried to.
He gave in, surrendering to the searing arousal coursing through his blood. His thoughts came to a screeching halt as he watched Brooke drop to her knees in front of him. She stared up at him, her face level with his painfully hard cock.
Holy fuck...
Her hand fisted around him, and he nearly leapt to the ceiling. With those simmering cocoa embers watching him, biting her lip mischievously, her hand slowly slid down and then back up. Then down, and back up again, doing a little twisting motion when she hit the crown. It. Felt. So. Good. But he knew that if she put her mouth on him, he was done for.
The little minx read his mind. Never taking her eyes off of him, she leaned forward, and opened those perfect, pink lips, and the head of his cock disappeared into her hot little mouth. A ragged groan tore from him as his head fell back, crashing against the tile. His brain never registered the sting on the back of his skull.
Her tongue lapped at the sensitive spot just below the head, and he shuddered. He made the mistake of looking down and watched as his cock disappeared farther and farther into Brooke's mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she applied devastating suction when she pulled back.
Nope. Nope. Nope. “Brooke, stop.” He didn't even recognize his own voice; it was so strained. “I'll come if you don't stop.” The ten-second span of her mouth on him was by far the most intense blowjob he had ever received. He doubted he would last another ten. He reached down and hooked his hands under her arms, pulling her to her feet.
He backed her against the adjacent wall, and decided to return the favor. That, and he needed to regain control before they went any further. He knelt down in front of her, her hands braced on his shoulders as she watched him curiously. He kissed a slow path down her stomach, and along her hipbones. He couldn't get enough of the taste of her skin, she had a natural sweetness that was addicting.
He kept going farther south, until he reached the neatly-trimmed patch of hair covering her mound. She had, by far, the prettiest pussy he had ever seen: pink, and neatly tucked away under small folds. Her clit was easily visible and accessible for his tasting. He applied a little pressure against the inside of her thigh with his hand, encouraging her to open her legs just a little for him. Her breathing sped up, and he noticed it. He looked up at her.
“Trust me.”
She gave a few tight nods of her head. Dorin didn't give her a chance to stop him before he leaned forward, and lapped his tongue over her clit. She jumped, and gasped.
“Okay?” He asked.
“Mm-hm,” she mumbled, her eyes closed.
He did it again, with a little more pressure this time. He swirled his tongue over her little bundle of nerves, drawing the sweetest little moan from her. He pressed her legs farther apart, opening her more to him, and he delved deeper between her legs. He ran his tongue along her slit, and the taste of her arousal nearly made his eyes roll back in his head. She tasted incredible, like honey. With his tongue working her clit, he slid a finger inside her. She arched her back against the tile with a moan, her head back, and her breasts heaving with her deep, rapid breaths. He hooked his finger against her inner walls, seeking that secret sweet spot. He knew when he found it because her fingers flew into his hair and gripped the strands.
“Oh, my God, Dorin.” The sound was a cross between a moan and a wail. Her slick pussy accepted his finger greedily, and she was so wet that he knew she was ready.
He quickly stood up, grabbed her by her ass, and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. Without a second of hesitation, he buried himself inside her in a single thrust. Brooke let out the deepest, most genuine moan of pleasure that he had ever heard, her head flopping back against the wall. Oh. My. Fucking. God. If he thought being inside her last night was mind-blowing, taking her completely bare was a sensation that belonged in another galaxy. There was nothing to compare it to because, not only had he never had sex without a condom, he had never felt this soul-searing connection before.
There was no slow, gentle lovemaking this time. Only sharp, demanding lust that gripped both of them in its crippling hold. Dorin thrust into her without abandon, driving her to the peak as fast and as effectively as he could. His toes dug into the floor of the shower as his mouth latched onto Brooke's neck, sucking, licking, and biting.
Brooke's hands tangled into his hair, tugging furiously at the strands as she ground her hips against him. She was completely mindless with pleasure, totally out of control based on the sounds coming from her, and definitely the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Every encounter he'd ever had in the past was nothing compared to being inside Brooke.
He felt her pussy ripple around him, her cries of rapture growing louder and more desperate. With a few more hard and deep upward thrusts, she combusted. Her head fell back against the wall, her back arched against him, and she cried out his name on a loud, shaky moan.
He wasted no time following her over the edge as his thrusts came faster, deeper, and his hands dug into her ass as he fell apart. With a deep, heaving groan that came up from his toes, he hurriedly pulled out, and fisted his cock as spurt after spurt of come splashed against her flat stomach. The shower water instantly washed it away.
With one hand against the wall to brace himself, he leaned into Brooke, his forehead against hers as he struggled to catch his breath.
“God,” he panted. “You're amazing.”
And then Brooke did by far the sweetest thing anyone had ever done; she kissed him on the forehead. “Right back at you, iubita.”
Hearing his native language come out of her mouth was enough to make his heart wave its little white flag in surrender. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tighter than he had ever hugged anyone before.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brooke had never realized how pretty the Eastern European countryside was. They left the safe house about an hour after waking up; Dorin had ‘borrowed’ another car to take them part of the way to the air base. Dorin explained that they were driving halfway themselves and would be meeting someone who would take them the rest of the way. She thought it was someone who worked for the CIA as well.
She didn't begin to know how to process everything that had happened. Waiting so long to lose her virginity seemed to skew how she felt about it. She knew so many women who regretted their first encounters, wishing they had waited longer, or had done it with someone else. She kept waiting for that twinge of regret to kill her buzz. But it didn't. All she could feel was relaxed, satisfied, and supremely happy. Happy because of the man she’d chosen. She barely knew Dorin, but somehow, a part of her fell perfectly into place with him. As if her body recognized that he was her match. He could make her wet with the smallest of touches, or a simple look, and the way her body reacted to him was beyond anything she could have possibly imagined.
She was distracted from the passing scenery when she realized she was absentmindedly fiddling with the pendant around her neck. She thought back to earlier that morning when Dorin clasped it around her neck. It was just a simple, s
ilver cross with pretty crystals. She had one very similar to it at home that she often wore. But what made it so important was the tiny, untraceable GPS tracker embedded in the metal. He told her not to take it off until they made it home, so that she could be located if something happened. He said that he, Tanner, and the person who placed it in the safe house were the only ones who knew it existed.
“So,” Dorin began, pulling her from her quiet admiration of the jewelry. “You asked me a while back about how I ended up in the U.S.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous.
She held her breath in case speaking or even breathing would cause him to change his mind about telling her. She wanted to know everything about Dorin, the good and the bad—no matter how devastating the bad might be.
“I was a product of the sex trade. My mom was kidnapped and sold when she was sixteen, but somehow escaped. She found out soon after that she was pregnant with me. The abuse she suffered from those men—one of whom was my father—traumatized her to a point where she couldn't recover. She spent most of her time drunk or high, and she ended up committing suicide when I was six.” She watched as his hand tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw flickering with tension before continuing.
“I found her body when I woke up one morning, and I took off running and never went back. I spent a year living on the streets, stealing food and hiding in abandoned buildings to survive. When I was seven, a man who turned out to be a CIA recruiter found me, and he shipped me off to the States. I was placed with foster parents who were actually married retired agents. I had a pretty good life from there on, I really did. My foster parents were good to me, and tried to give me as normal a life as possible. I played basketball in high school, went off to the Marines right after graduation, and went to college.”
“And then you ended up here? In the CIA?” Brooke said, realizing she had been holding her breath this entire time. God, she couldn't imagine what Dorin had to have endured as a child. Her heart ached for a dirty, malnourished, orphaned little boy who was completely alone in the world.
Dorin nodded. “Yep.”
“That explains why your accent is so faint.”
“Linguistics training. I can dial the accent up or down as much as I need to.” He looked over at her with a teasing smirk. “I can sound as American as I want,” he said with no trace of a Romanian accent, pure American.
She couldn't stop a giggle. “I like your accent.”
Dorin looked at her with a smile. “I like yours too. It's cute.”
No one had ever called her Georgia southern belle accent “cute” before. It wasn't as heavy as, say, Scarlett O'Hara or anything, but it was often pointed out whenever she traveled north. She caught some teasing over it in college, mostly just good-natured ribbing from her friends.
“What do you think you would be doing if you weren't an agent?” she asked.
Dorin took a deep breath, twisting his hand on the steering wheel. “Honestly, I think I'd be a teacher.”
“Let me guess, an art teacher?”
He laughed. “Yes, an art teacher, probably high school art. I've always been pretty good at drawing, and some painting, but it's just been a hobby and something to pass the time whenever I'm bored.”
“If your tattoo is any indication of your talent, I'd say you're grossly understating your artistic abilities.” His tattoo was incredible, so detailed and lively.
She swore she saw Dorin blush, but he didn't say anything else on the matter. She realized then that Dorin was extremely humble. “So, do you have any hidden talents?”
“Je parle couramment le Français.” I speak fluent French. “Y Español.” And Spanish. She loved mixing her languages, the reactions from people were priceless and a good source of entertainment.
Dorin's head whipped in her direction, his eyes popped wide as his jaw dropped. “That's impressive!”
“Thank you,” She couldn't stop the amused smile. “I took French all the way through high school, then took Spanish in college. It helped me get into medical school.”
“Well, your pronunciation was perfect.”
“How many languages do you speak, honestly?” Brooke asked.
“Fluently, or just enough to get by?”
“Both.”
Dorin looked as if he were tallying up. Oh, Lord, this was going to be impressive.
“Fluently, outside of the obvious Romanian and English, I also speak Russian, Greek, and Italian. I can get by on Spanish, French, and German.” He thought for another moment. “I know a few random words and phrases in Japanese and Mandarin as well, but I'm sure those are pretty rusty.”
“Wow,” was all she could say. They drove a couple more miles in silence. “Ok, random trivia time. Favorite food?”
“Beef and mushroom pizza. Thin crust.” He turned to look at her. “Swear to God. I'm so basic it's sad.” He flicked his eyes to the road, then back at her. “When it comes to food, I'm as American as they come. You give me a pizza and a six-pack of beer and I'm happy.”
Brooke laughed. “Thin crust is my favorite too.” She smiled. “Favorite color?”
“Blue, navy blue.” He turned onto another road. “Now you have to answer those questions.”
“Fettuccine Alfredo with shrimp. And my favorite color is purple.”
“Ok, sounds like I'm taking you to an Italian restaurant for our date.” The thought of going to another restaurant should have sent Brooke into a panic attack. But, fear never crossed her mind. She would be in a restaurant with Dorin; he wouldn't let anything happen to her.
They drove for about an hour before they reached their destination in a small Bulgarian town. She and Dorin had filled the entire drive up until now with conversation, and she continued to be amazed at who Dorin was underneath his spy exterior. Not only was he terrifyingly smart, but he also had a quiet humility and compassion that he likely didn't even realize he possessed. She came to learn that his alias, Alexandru, actually meant “defender of mankind.” Very fitting if anyone was asking. Though he had been a Marine, she didn't get that cocky, jarhead vibe from him, almost as if he were trying to hide that part of him. Maybe it didn't fit with his cover, whatever the reason was.
“So, who is this colleague of yours that we're meeting up with?” Brooke asked.
“Well,” Dorin scratched his nose. “He's not what you'd call a 'colleague', he's an informant, a trustworthy resource. He crosses paths with Anton Vasile on a regular basis, and is a valuable source of information. He's helped me out of tight situations on more than one occasion. The Agency trusts him, and I trust him.”
And that was all she needed to know. If Dorin trusted this guy, she was more than okay with that. They pulled the car over to the curb in front of a small café. The town was beyond what Brooke would describe as ‘cute’; the picturesque village was something straight out of a travel magazine. Aged brick buildings lined the cobblestone streets, and there were very few cars on the roads. People just didn't need them here, most of them walked everywhere.
She was so grateful to finally get out of the car, stretch her legs, and get some fresh air. She took a whiff of the air around her; the warm, aromatic scent of coffee and pastries danced through her nostrils in the most pleasant of ways. Hopefully they would be eating lunch before they continued their drive.
While she stood near the car, Dorin rounded the front, and took her hand. He gave her a reassuring squeeze as he led her into the café. It had been a very long time since a man had held Brooke's hand, and she noticed that her hand fit perfectly in his. She felt safe, protected, and cherished for the first time in her life.
The jingling of the bells on the café's door blended in with the low chatter of the few patrons seated inside, and she pinpointed the delicious smells she’d detected outside. Rich, bold coffee, and sweet, buttery danishes made her mouth water and her stomach growl.
Dorin stopped and scanned the patrons before his gaze rested on a man seated in a far corner at a small table. He was
older than Dorin, rougher, like he had lived a much harder life. He had dark blond hair that was surprisingly neatly cut despite his haggard appearance. When he saw them approach the table, he smiled, and stood. He held his arms outstretched, and greeted Dorin in what she assumed was Romanian as the two men hugged. They spoke for a moment before Dorin turned to Brooke.
“Cezar, this is Brooke Kennedy.” He reached for her hand again, and pulled her close to him. “Brooke, this is my friend, Cezar.”
“Ah,” Cezar gave Brooke a friendly, jovial smile as he extended his hand to shake hers. “So you're what all the fuss is about?”
She felt her cheeks flush hot and her palms began to sweat. “I—I'm sorry,” she stammered. “I didn't mean to cause so much trouble.”
“No, no, no,” Cezar backpedaled, and she felt Dorin's hand tighten on hers again. “You're no trouble at all, dear. I'm more than happy to help get you home safe and, hopefully, take out the bastard who had you kidnapped in the first place.”
Take your pick. A long list of people had a hand in all of that.
“Well,” Cezar clapped his hands. “You two should grab some coffee and snacks for the road. Maybe a bathroom break, I don't plan to stop until we reach Bezmer.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dorin couldn't remember the last time he was in the passenger's seat of a car; it was almost a treat to let someone else drive. Common courtesy almost had Brooke riding shotgun with Cezar, and him in the backseat. But if they ran into trouble, it would be easier for Brooke to duck for cover in the back.
The car was silent for several miles; both he and Brooke simply enjoyed the scenery while Cezar focused on avoiding cattle, sheep, and dogs on the country roads. They were certainly taking the scenic route, avoiding many of the highways to keep their travel as discreet as possible. They still had at least three, if not four, hours until they reached Bezmer, and he was never so happy to get out of Europe.
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