“It’s a whole different view from upside down,” she stated. “Oh, the president is still a dick. Some things don’t change,” she said, taking Elizabeth’s side.
Livy hated the man.
He’d told her ‘nice nips’, just to piss Gabe off, and while he was forgiving, she didn’t work for the government. She’d flipped him off. It looked like Gabe had to keep more than one woman away from the lecherous asshole.
If Elizabeth went after him, she’d be riding shotgun for women everywhere.
“Yes, Livy, it is,” Ethan teased.
“Stop flirting with my wife,” Gabe said, laughing. “She’s going to expect me to do that kind of shit.”
He wasn’t kidding anyone.
No one bought that BS. Since being in remission from cancer, he was always doting on Olivia.
NONSTOP.
“No chance. Your wife looks gorgeous tonight,” Ethan said, twirling her. “She looks gorgeous in white. So puritanical, virgin-esque…”
Gabe flushed.
“That would make one hell of a fantasy, don’t you think?” he asked.
Gabe stared at him.
“If you think The Girlfriend Code is going to freak me out, it’s not. At least I can pretend my girl is pure,” he teased back, pointing at Elizabeth in the racy red dress.
Elizabeth gave herself devil horns, and it made Ethan laugh.
“Come to Satan, baby,” he said.
Gabe stared at him.
“You need help. Give me my angel back. Don’t get your perversion all over her. There’s no room for more people in our bed.”
“Darn,” she teased.
“Olivia!”
“She’s being bad. You should spank her,” Elizabeth stated. “AGAIN.”
“Jesus in a holy basin of water! Olivia!” he said in horror. “That’s it! I lied. That damn code freaks me out. Can you two stop talking about our sex lives? We have to work together! It’s horrifying! No one should know what goes down in our bedroom but us!”
“Gabe, zip it. I like the stories,” Livy stated. “Especially the ones where they take turns…”
Gabe pointed.
“Don’t do it!”
Ethan winked at her and willingly swapped Livy for his wife. When they were back with their husbands, they continued dancing.
And Elizabeth went back to tormenting him.
Yeah, this was much better.
“I need a favor,” Gabe stated when he managed to control his eye from twitching because of the stress.
“What?” Ethan asked as Elizabeth nibbled on that spot below his ear.
It made his body go warm and liquid with lust. She knew it too. That was the surefire way to turn him on and crank up his libido. That spot was connected to his dick.
He was sure of it, and his delightfully wicked wife was damn aware of it.
“Ethan!”
“What? Sorry. I was thinking about sex. What?” he asked, smiling at Gabe.
The man sighed.
“Avoid him. I mean it. He’s plotting something, and I need some time to figure out what.”
Ethan got it.
Since Gabe, his partner, and boss, was telling him to stay away from the man, he could do that.
FAR away.
As in, they were leaving.
“I was thinking of sneaking out with my wife. Are you up for it, my love?” he asked.
God knew he was.
His dick was in the upright position, and he needed someone to help him with that. By someone, he meant a raven-haired woman with icy blue eyes and freckles.
Elizabeth ran her hand across his cheek.
“Oh, Ethan Jackson Blackhawk, you don’t have to ask twice. Let’s blow this place. Then I’ll blow you. I like more excitement in my life.”
Gabe rolled his eyes and tried not to gag.
That wasn’t what he had in mind, but it was a better option than them staying and the president baiting Elizabeth.
She’d kill him.
He didn’t doubt it for a second.
This might not be a bad thing.
“Go. I’ll cover for you. He’s not looking, so sneak out and have fun. By fun, I mean don’t tell me or Livy about it!”
“Gabe!” his wife objected.
Ethan was already on the move. The president was no longer glaring angrily at them. His Secret Service detail was getting shouted at for something, and he actually pitied them. That had to be the worst job in the universe.
He’d rather be flogged every day than deal with that craziness.
Oh, well.
Better them than him.
Ethan fist-bumped his friend and kissed Livy on the cheek to say goodnight.
“See you at work tomorrow. I’m going to go muss up my wife in some raunchy sex fest.”
“Yee-haw, Cowboy,” she said, blowing Livy and Gabe a kiss as Ethan led her through the crowd of senators, White House Staff, and guests of the president.
Elizabeth grabbed his ass and promised some lechery if he got them out of there.
Well, Ethan was down with that.
They avoided the Secret Service and some other people who would want to talk to them, and they snuck out of the hotel with giggles and smiles.
Until they got outside.
They were met by Wilcox.
Elizabeth sighed. Here came the sucker of all things fun and enjoyable.
“Sir, are you leaving?”
“We’re heading out,” he stated, waving to his driver to get the car there and fast.
“I’ll follow, Sir.”
“Head back to the house,” Ethan stated. “I’m going to take a long limo ride with the missus.”
“Sir?”
“He’s going to fuck me silly, Wilcox,” she stated, pulling a twenty out of the front of her dress. “I’m going to shout that word repeatedly over the next hour. That should cover it. If not, I’ll pay you tomorrow. I promise to keep count. Care to go for twenty-five, Mr. Deputy Director?” she purred.
“Put it on my tab,” he answered.
Wilcox stared at her in horror and flushed three shades of red when she drew that picture in his head.
“I’ll follow, sir. I can’t let you out of my sight. Ivan will lose his mind if I let HER run loose in DC. Someone is a menace to the world, and not particularly creative with her language.”
He didn’t care.
If the man wanted to watch a limo shake with Elizabeth bouncing in his lap, go for it.
At this point, Ethan was so close to getting his wife naked in the back of a limo, that the man could make up any stories he wanted in his mind.
Truth be told, it was going to be wild.
There was kinkery coming, and that was hot for him. He recalled their little sexcapades in Vegas in the back of a limo, and he loved it.
It was stuff erotica was made of for him.
“She needs a babysitter,” Wilcox said, pointing at Elizabeth.
Ethan kissed her before she could insult the man. It wasn’t fair. Ivan wasn’t there to pull her off of him. Wilcox didn’t realize he was baiting a tiger.
She was a menace, but he loved it.
As for the man, she may be a mother, and in her forties, but she was wicked fast, crazy strong, and she fought dirty. Elizabeth had just requalified, and she was in the best shape of her life. She smoked agents who were half her age, and Wilcox was insane for even challenging her. She’d have his gun in seconds, and it wouldn’t be her on her knees begging.
Picturing his wife in that position made him even harder—if that was possible.
“Fine, but if the limo is a rockin’,” Elizabeth stated as she pulled her mouth free, “don’t come a knockin’.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head.
Ethan practically shoved his wife into the limo as it pulled up. With one last look over his shoulder, he tugged off his bow tie, grinned at his security guy, and then dove in after her.
Tomorrow, he’d sweat the presid
ent.
Tonight…
It was time to get sweaty with his wife.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Later That Night
Hotel
When Damian arrived upstairs, it was simply for a quick dalliance that would be under the little woman’s radar. He found himself stirred up, and he needed to get out some of that aggression.
That meant kinky, rough sex.
God knew who it wouldn’t be with.
Elizabeth Blackhawk.
Truth be told, he was pissed about the whole night. Nothing was going his way.
NOTHING.
His most used piece of ass was waiting for him, and he was going to use her to get over all of his irritation. Once his balls were empty, he’d be calmer.
Hopefully.
For now, he was rock-hard, and that was a combination of that slut, Elizabeth Blackhawk, the bourbon, and two Viagra.
It had him riding a high.
His blood was boiling.
His balls were aching.
Damian needed to get off in the worst way.
For the last forty minutes, all he could focus on was finding Elizabeth Blackhawk to get her alone. Now, she was missing, and likely off giving head to that husband of hers—that worthless Indian.
He didn’t get it.
He had power.
He had prestige.
He was President of the United States, and if she would just let him have his way with her, she would never have to worry about her position with the FBI again.
She’d be safe.
In fact, she could have the head position. If she’d get on her knees for him, he’d deliver the FBI to her.
On a silver platter.
He’d make sure of it. He’d take really good care of her as long as she was willing to satiate him. While he could get it up without the Viagra, he liked fucking for a good hour. That rutting, that enjoyment as the woman begged him to stop…
He pictured Elizabeth tied down and him humping her like a sweaty teen.
Oh, she’d shut her mouth when he worked her over.
Only, he couldn’t find her.
It always seemed like they were never alone, or her husband was lurking. She was a slut like any other woman. If he applied the pressure and then added a reward, she’d do the job too.
Women were easy.
This playing hard to get was getting old.
It pissed him off.
She wanted him.
He knew it!
She’d shown up in some dress that showed off her assets, and it had him horny. So, after she’d worked him up, being a dick tease on the dancefloor, he couldn’t locate her to get him off.
So, he had no choice.
Cautiously, he found his backup fuck and told his side piece to meet him upstairs.
She hesitated at first, but like always, she gave in. He knew how to manipulate the situation. He knew how to get what he wanted.
And he wanted sex.
LOTS.
AND.
LOTS of sex.
While the Secret Service had the place on lockdown, there was no one in that hotel but the people invited to the event. They didn’t have the upstairs levels locked down. For once, he was free to move unencumbered.
That was why he liked this party.
He had freedom. As President of the United States, he couldn’t go anywhere without being followed.
Well, tonight, he was a bird out of the gilded cage, and to make sure, he’d had the cameras removed. When he planned on detaining Elizabeth upstairs, he wanted no proof.
He had set this all up, and he didn’t want anyone seeing him heading up to get lucky. By anyone, he meant his wife—the bitch harpy.
Oh, he’d wanted Elizabeth Blackhawk beneath him tonight and getting her upstairs had been his plan, but instead, he’d settle for someone else.
How did he plan to do it?
Well, for starters, if she wanted her husband to keep his job, she’d let him have his way with her.
All.
Night.
Long.
She may have escaped for now, but this was far from over. He’d get her later, and he’d have her in the Oval Office.
He was a patient man.
Damian could wait her out.
As he opened the door to the presidential suite, he began pulling off his tuxedo to get ready for the woman who should be naked and waiting for him. She let him do kinky, but tonight, he’d do rage.
He didn’t have the props he needed to really enjoy it.
Sue him.
With her, he liked an audience. It was demeaning, it was vile, and it got him off.
“I’m horny! I hope that pussy is ready for a beating,” he shouted as he locked the door behind him.
He felt like being brutal tonight. He was going to fuck her so hard and so long, she’d walk funny for the rest of the night.
Perfect.
There was nothing hotter than knowing where his dick had been, and no one was any the wiser. His useless, miserable hag wasn’t getting him off.
She was.
“Where are you?” he called. “I ditched my security. I have only a little while before they come knocking.”
No one answered.
When he headed into the bedroom, there was no one there—and it pissed him off.
He hated playing these games.
Damian had been very specific when he told her what he wanted.
He’d hurt her later for screwing this up.
This would only make it a million times worse for her in the long run.
“Jesus. Can’t a guy get a blowjob anymore? All I need is a whore on her knees!” he said, turning around.
When he did, he only caught the flash of something before his head was filled with so much pain.
It felt like something was trying to crack his head open to scoop out his brains. It was like a million volts of electricity, trying to kill him.
It was…horrible.
The president fell to his knees as that blast from something nearly knocked him out.
He glanced up.
“What are you…?”
He didn’t get to say more.
A pillowcase was put over his head right before the next wave of pain came.
And it kept coming.
Blow.
After.
Blow.
On his knees, someone kept beating on him. Someone kept wailing away at his head, his brains and scalp hitting the inside of the pillowcase with each devastating hit.
He couldn’t handle it anymore.
He was blind.
He was damaged.
He was dying.
Damian Dean fell face down on the floor, and the world began going gray around him.
He tasted blood in his mouth.
The coppery smell assaulted what was left of his senses.
His world was ending.
Yeah, his last thoughts were fairly simple.
Tonight was a bad time to get caught without his personal security.
So much for power and prestige.
It looked like his time was up.
He was done.
The President of the United States was dead.
For DC, it was about to get ugly.
Chapter One
Sunday
Night
Limo
H e moaned in pleasure as he heard the handcuffs click shut. As Ethan opened his eyes, he watched her latch each of his arms to the door handles with the handcuffs she’d thought to bring on their night out alone.
Now, they were rolling around town, and he was riding dirty.
Elizabeth, the horny wife, dirty.
His wife had tormented him, given him booze and one hell of a blowjob, and it still wasn’t enough. She was going to make this limo memorable.
In fact, he was going to have it bronzed.
The smell of her perfume, their combined scents, and the sex…yeah, it was n
ever coming out.
“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered as he couldn’t move.
She’d gotten him out of his pants, cut off his boxers, and his shirt was open baring his chest.
“Oh, Deputy Director, it looks like you’re my prisoner,” she whispered as she stroked his red, hard dick.
She was tormenting the hell out of him, and if he didn’t cum soon, Ethan was going to die.
He was sure of it.
“Please get me off,” he muttered as he watched her pick up her panties off of the floor and wave them in front of his face.
He found his answer to his previous question.
Yes, she was wearing them—if that was what you wanted to call them. They were wicked, leather, and he hadn’t seen that coming.
They were more something Callen would like, but Ethan…he was being held captive by a naked woman in the back of a limo.
Who was he to question it?
Once in a while, she whipped out these sexual fantasies, and he was damn glad.
“I’m hungry,” she said, grabbing her bag.
“WHAT?”
Was she looking for a snack in the middle of sex? Ethan wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“Oh, look,” she said, pulling out a can of whipped cream. The confusion was gone.
“Oh, please put that all over my dick,” he begged.
“Why, Deputy Director, you’re such a pervert,” she said, shoving her leather panties into his open mouth.
He moaned.
Jesus.
They were going right to Hell. God help his kids if they ever walked in on one of her playtimes. They’d be scarred for life.
She shook the can.
Then sprayed it on her breasts.
He nearly came.
It was hard not to think about what that whipped cream reminded him of, and how bad he wanted her.
Blackhawk spit out the panties.
“I want you.”
She straddled his lap, and let his hard dick rub against her. She knew the best way to tease Ethan, or Callen, was to make them wait.
Neither was patient in bed.
It made them wild.
“Want a lick, Deputy Director? What will your wife do if she catches us?”
He blinked.
“I don’t care. I want you. I want you so bad I’ll leave her. Just let me have you!”
All the King's Henchmen Page 3