Nobody_Does_It_Better_Kobo

by Lexi Blake

  Put that way, it might not have been the most polite thing to do. “I wasn’t rolling them at you. I was rolling them because of you. I’ve been tortured by professionals.”

  “Then I’ll have to up my game, won’t I? I’ll have to try harder so I don’t bore you.” He leaned over, his mouth against her ear. “You should feel lucky that I’m not equipped to properly discipline you. If I had a tube of ginger lube right now, I would show you what I do to brats who roll their eyes at me. I suspect that by the time we’re done here, the impulse will have passed, but you should know it would not go well for you right now.”

  The threat sent a delicious shiver down her spine. This was what she’d been missing with the Doms at The Garden. They were all about the play, and not one of them would have seriously punished her. The relationship wasn’t intimate enough.

  “Since I don’t have a handy tube of lube,” he began, “go and bend over that chair. Your legs better be fucking wide and your back straight. Go. Go right fucking now or I’ll start this here and you won’t like it.”

  Like? She loved how rough his voice was. He was on the edge, but she trusted him not to fall over it. This was how he was trying to keep himself sane. She moved as quickly as she could, crossing the space between her and that chair, getting into position so he wouldn’t have any other reason to punish her. When she turned her head, she could see him in the mirror.

  His jeans had tented, the long line of his erection plain against the denim. How long would it be before he ditched the jeans and stroked that big dick in his hand? She loved watching him as he stroked himself and stalked her. He was staring at her now, his eyes on her form.

  He moved to the place where she’d draped the pretty blue dress over the chair closest to the velvet curtains. “I like this, Kay. It looks beautiful on you. We’ll get this for you. After we get back from Mexico, awards season starts. You can wear this to the Oscars and I’ll find a place to fuck you backstage. You’ll do that, right? You’ll let me fuck you backstage? You’ll spread your legs and welcome my cock while they announce best picture and everyone’s clapping. They’ll really be clapping because of how well and thoroughly I’ll have you that night.”

  “Yes, Joshua.” She couldn’t tell him she probably wouldn’t be around then. God, she didn’t want to think about it. Why should she? He would still want a McKay-Taggart team around him. Dec and Shane would rotate out eventually, but she didn’t have to. She would be done with the CIA job, but Josh didn’t have to know she’d ever done it. She could still be his close cover expert. Why shouldn’t she?

  He didn’t have to know they’d started with a lie.

  He picked up her thong. “I don’t like this.”

  “I was trying on clothes. They tend to like you to have undies on,” she explained.

  “I don’t care. You’re mine. You’re not theirs. I make the rules when it comes to you.”

  There was that overly possessive caveman she’d come to count on. He seemed to not bond to many, but when he did, it was quick and fierce and he held on tight. “Yes, Joshua. I won’t wear them again.”

  He palmed her ass, his hands so big he could almost cup both cheeks in one. “I’m probably going to have to talk to the police in a bit.”

  “What?” She started to come up.

  His hand moved in a stinging arc, striking her left cheek with ruthless intent. One and two and three until she’d settled back into the position he’d put her in.

  “Are you okay?” Kayla asked on a shaky breath. She was damn glad the chair had wooden arms because she needed them to stay upright. “Do we need to call a lawyer?”

  Another nasty slap. “You need to concentrate on this. I was telling you because I don’t want you to be surprised if there are cops on the other side of that curtain when I’m done with you. Or if they rush in and catch us. I don’t care at this point. At this point, they could storm the place and I’ll answer all their questions while I’m inside you.”

  He moved his hand over her ass as though tracing the marks he’d already made.

  “What happened?” She braced herself.

  He smacked her again, but this one was almost idle, and then his hand moved between her legs, brushing her core. “I went outside to take a phone call and I got into it with a fucking photographer. I’ll likely have to pay for his camera, though perhaps not. Burke said he would take care of it and then sent me in here to you.”

  Smart man. “He’s getting rid of the evidence.” She gasped as he skimmed along her clitoris. “Oh, Josh.”

  That was when he pinched her. Hard. It made her squirm and squeal and gave him the excuse to spank her more. Over and over, he brought his hand down on her backside, fire licking along her flesh.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, holding in the tears that threatened. Tears were good. They were cleansing and she often needed a scene like this one to release the stress and have a good cry. Somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten how to do that. Oh, she knew it had happened sometime during her MSS years. She’d been forced to go cold, forced to shut down entire sections of her personality so she could slip into her sister’s shoes and live out a nightmare that wasn’t supposed to be hers. Only D/s had ever given her a safe place to cry, but she couldn’t do it now. Now wasn’t for her. Now was for Josh, and she couldn’t have the police storming in here because they thought he was hurting her.

  So she bit her bottom lip as he executed another volley of stinging slaps.

  “You’ll wear a plug tomorrow. You’re going to get that sweet ass plugged up in front of the entire club. They’ll watch as I work that plug inside. How is it going to feel knowing everyone will be watching you? Everyone is going to know what a bad sub you’ve been that you deserve your Master’s plug stretching that tiny asshole all night long. Depending on how gracious you are between now and then, I will decide what kind of lubricant to use. But before I work the plug in, I’m going to play. I’m going to stretch your cheeks wide and show off what belongs to me. I’ll let everyone look and all the Doms will have to shift around because they’ll be hard at the thought of that tiny hole squeezing their cocks. Thinking is all they’ll get to do because it’s fucking mine. That pretty hole belongs to me and I’m going to take it. First with a finger diving in, opening you up and fucking deep inside, and then later with my cock. You’re going to feel the burn, my luscious little sub.”

  She could practically feel it now. He was so good with the dirty talk that sometimes she thought she might come simply listening to his voice.

  “I wish I had more time,” he said. “I suppose I’ll do what I must. Don’t you let go of that chair.”

  She took a deep breath and felt him move in behind her. What happened next was fast and furious, his cock thrusting in hard, penetrating her in an instant.

  She bit back a cry. He held on to her hips and fucked deep inside her.

  “Tell me you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours.”

  “Tell me I get to do whatever I want to you.”

  “Anything, Josh. Anything you want.” She was worried that she was starting to mean every single one of those words. This man seemed to own her soul for some reason, and she didn’t want him to give it back.

  There was something deep and primal to the rhythm he set, a ruthless pounding that found its crescendo all too soon.

  The orgasm swamped her senses, making the rest of the room fade away until all that mattered was the pleasure coursing through her veins. Josh’s hands tightened and he forced himself in as far as he could go. He held her tight, spilling himself deep inside.

  Then she felt him step back, heard him moving.

  “Get dressed, pet.” His voice was calmer, perfectly steady now. “I’m going to dispose of this condom and I believe our friends are here.”

  “Mr. Hunt, this is Beverly Hills, PD,” a deep voice said. “I’m going to need you to step out now. There’s been a complaint made against you.”

  Kayla reached for her jeans,
picking up the thong Josh had tossed back over her street clothes.

  “I’ll be out in a moment, sir,” Josh replied calmly. “After I stop my girlfriend from making a horrible mistake. I said no underwear.”

  Holy shit. “Josh, the police are out there.”

  “And the police understand the necessity for rules. You do, don’t you, Officer? Rules are important to a society and they’re important in a relationship. They set the boundaries and foundations on which trust can be built.”

  “Uh, I came out because someone accused you of beating a photographer,” the voice came back.

  “Naturally,” Josh conceded, tucking his shirt back in. He shoved the thong in his front pocket and didn’t seem to care that it was kind of sticking out. “I didn’t beat the man. I did, however, give my lady in here a proper schooling on the role of underwear in her life. I’m glad you’re here. Perhaps you can scare her straight. When I said no underwear, I meant absolutely none. I understand this thong might not qualify as clothing at all, but it’s the thought that matters.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed.

  He shrugged. “I’m feeling better. Burke was right.”

  “Ma’am, is he hurting you in any way?” the officer asked.

  She finished dressing and faced Josh. Two could play at this game. “Not in any way that didn’t lead to a screaming orgasm, Officer. And I learned my lesson. No more panties for me.”

  She threw open the curtains and was faced with a bunch of people who seemed a bit on the disconcerted side. Except Declan. He was leaning against the jewelry countertop, yawning.

  “I told you my boss was doing something way more interesting than beating up on some out-of-shape photog,” Declan said.

  Kayla picked up on his plans. “I’m very sorry, Officer. I’m afraid he was doing me. I bought a lot of clothes today. Gotta work that off somehow.”

  Then the officers were chuckling as if they’d seen this a thousand times before and at least the poor schmo whose credit cards were getting a workout was getting something out of this, too.

  As the police began to sort things out, she had to wonder what had come over Josh. He was incredibly private and yet in that moment, it seemed he hadn’t cared at all that everyone might know about his sex life.

  What had changed? And did she dare to hope the change was her?

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Kayla sank down into the chair outside the Starbucks, the smell of coffee making her sigh. Not that she was here for a vanilla latte. That sweet treat was merely a by-product of her current occupation. Still, she would take her comfort where she could. Breathing in the sweet smell rising from her cup, she looked out over the small shopping center that contained a drug store, a couple of boutiques, a Ralph’s she spent way too much time at, and this Starbucks. Because it was Southern California, she sat outside, despite the fact that the rest of the world was fighting the encroaching chill of the fall.

  In England she would have pulled out the sweaters, but here she was still in shorts and a tank top. And it was easier to have a classified conversation in the beautiful outside where she could see pretty much everyone and all around her people were making noises of their own.

  She was starting to get paranoid, but then that was kind of the lifestyle she was leading now.

  Was that a photographer? Nope. Tourist. Or he was a paparazzi specializing in PCH photography. Still, she pulled her hat a little lower.

  How did Josh live like this every day?

  Where the hell was Ezra?

  Her cell phone trilled and she grimaced, glancing down. Her dad. Damn it. She touched the screen to decline the call. Two weeks into her current assignment and things were coming to a head on the family front. She was going to have to call them and soon or they would be all over Damon.

  It wasn’t like they weren’t used to her being out of touch for long periods of time. She used to go six months to a year without talking to them. She would say she was in rural Asia teaching kids English or some shit. The Agency would send out the occasional postcard for her and her dads would be appeased for a while.

  She’d read the postcards later on and had been surprised how close they’d gotten the handwriting to her own. She’d talked about the kids she was teaching and how much she missed home. Later she found out her dads had sent her care package after care package—none of which she’d actually received because MSS might have been suspicious about their deadliest agent getting boxes of M&Ms and orange Fanta from the US.

  Maybe a postcard would placate them now.

  Dear Dads, On assignment in the wilds of Malibu. It’s been two weeks and I’m all Pretty Woman’d up, except the clerks in Bev Hills were nice to me. Guess they learned. Recently had sex in a dressing room with a feral movie star. He won’t kiss me and it’s making me crazy. Send condoms because the dude is insatiable.

  Yep, that would make them feel better. Not that they would buy it now. They knew about her work for the Agency. Not the true extent of it, but enough to worry about her every minute of the day.

  Damon would deal with them. And when this was over with, she would go back to Santa Barbara for a nice long visit. Hell, she would invite Tucker over. He had some nicely faked paperwork to keep him safe when he went out of the house. Her dads would love him and it would do him good to spend some time outside The Garden.

  She stopped, her hand on the coffee cup. Someone was watching her. It was an instinct, an icy finger going up her spine. Slowly, she glanced around looking for anything, anyone out of the ordinary. Nothing. The Pepperdine kids were talking basketball at the next table. Two women were discussing plans for someone’s birthday and who the best caterers were. A lone man sat at a table in the shade, his baseball hat low on his head as he sipped his coffee and stared down at a newspaper.

  Nothing out of the ordinary, but still she could feel eyes on her.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  She looked up and Ezra stared down at her, his eyes steady. If she told him she was waiting for a friend, he would know she couldn’t talk right now. Should she send him away or was that feeling of being watched just more Josh Hunt induced paranoia? “Please join me.”

  Ezra slid into the seat next to her and she was sure they looked for all the world like a couple simply enjoying the gorgeous So Cal weather. “He’s been damn good about keeping you out of the papers, but he slipped up.”

  He slid a magazine her way. It was a celebrity rag with full glossy pictures, the kind you could find at any grocery store checkout aisle. She glanced down at the photo. Josh was wearing what she liked to call his casual chic. Jeans, motorcycle boots, a button-down shirt he didn’t tuck in. He was walking into a building. Yes, she recognized it. They’d been going to see his agent to talk about the shoot coming up next week. She’d sat with him listening to an outrageous amount of demands she’d been told were all perfectly standard. His trailer was to be kept at a certain temperature. He drank only bottled water and needed it available to him at all times. The bedroom of his trailer was to be stocked with one-thousand thread count sheets. Yadda, yadda.

  Diva. He was a diva, or rather his agent was since Josh had mostly sighed and rolled his eyes. He’d had other concerns. He had demanded that the studio hire a former DEA agent to tutor him in the role. He’d demanded time at the gun range.

  She was in the shot, too, walking a few feet behind him wearing a yellow sundress that cost more than her entire wardrobe at home. It was an Elie Saab straight off the runway, and she would wear it until she was eight-hundred years old. Josh appeared to be holding the door open for her, her body in profile.

  Not too bad. The girls looked good. The Louboutin stilettos made her legs look way longer than they were.

  The caption read Josh Hunt’s New Girl?

  She slid it back Ezra’s way. “It was inevitable. I’m actually surprised it took a whole two weeks. They’re always on him. Josh has drones fly by. Freaking drones. I took one out this morning. Pretty
sure it got a couple of shots of me, but not with Josh. They’ll reach the proper conclusions no matter what we do. Is my cover good?”

  The tightening of his jaw let her know he was worried.

  “Ezra?”

  He sighed and sat back. “Your cover is solid, but I’m worried the Agency is preoccupied right now.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means a couple of things have happened recently that’s thrown normally solid teams into chaos.”

  “And naturally it’s classified,” she surmised.

  “Naturally, but I’m going to tell you anyway because it concerns you on several fronts.”

  “Is Josh at risk?” She was surprised at how worried she was about the answer to that question. She was taking him into something perilous and he didn’t even understand the danger he would be going into.

  “I don’t know,” Ezra admitted. “Two things have happened, and while I believe they’re coincidental, I can’t be sure. Three weeks ago, the Agency received proof that John Bishop wasn’t killed in the line of duty and is, in fact, alive and well.”

  Her stomach took a deep dive and despite the heat of the day, a shiver raced along her skin. The Ice Man was alive? There was only one reason she could think of that a man like Bishop would fake his death. How could that have happened? She’d believed in him. God, of all the people she’d met in her time in the Agency, Bishop had been the stalwart one, the one who would make the hard decisions, but they would always, always be in the best interest of his country. “He turned? Who’s he working for?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to assess.”

  “Where did they find him?” She never thought she’d go back to the Agency. After Ten had brought her home, she’d quit and vowed to never do the deep dive again, but if Bishop was in trouble or…if Bishop had turned and become the enemy…well, he’d been her mentor. She would have to save him or be the one to put him down. Maybe she was looking at this wrong. Maybe he was in trouble and he’d turned against his will. That could happen.