by Livia Grant
As if it were choreographed, Jaxson and Ryder completed the preparations of their sub's bottoms and each stepped closer. Khloe felt Ryder testing her pucker with the tip of his erection, pushing in a bit before retreating. In. Out. Each attempt a bit deeper. Stretching her a bit wider until the tight ring of muscles at her entrance were trained and ready for what she knew was coming.
The Doms claimed their subs together. One minute she longed for Ryder. The next she was impossibly full, stretched so wide it burned. Relief was short as he withdrew, only to slam back into her ass. That was when she opened her mouth to cry out his name and the crop fell to the floor.
Ryder frozen, still buried inside her. She knew he was on the brink of coming by his pained question, "Are you safe wording?"
"God no! More!" Khloe should have been embarrassed at the grins all three of the trio's faces as they witnessed her desperate plea, but she was too excited to come to care. In fact, when Ryder seemed reluctant to claim her at the same pace as before, she added, "Harder!"
His open-handed smack to her bottom arrived with his warning, "You're topping from the bottom again, little girl. I decide how I fuck you, remember?"
Oh boy, did she ever and it turned her on.
His hands were back on her hips, fingers digging into her to once again, holding her still to act as the receptacle for his rod. She was distracted watching Jaxson servicing her ex with the same dirty rhythm. Each Dom's thrusts were getting harder... faster... as if they were racing to the end. Ryder's pounding became erratic when he leaned into her back, reaching his right hand lower until he could reach Khloe's pussy.
She waited for him to stroke her to climax or maybe pinch her clit, but instead he used his open hand to begin slapping her as if he were spanking her pussy. More pleasure. More pain. Sensory overload. It was oh so close, but not nearly enough. Khloe lost track of how long their sexy dance went on, turning herself over to the cocktail of sensations consuming her body and soul.
He drove her over the cliff into a mammoth, screaming orgasm that club members playing across the entire space had to hear. She was vaguely aware of Ryder shooting waves of his sticky cream into her bowels.
The climax zapped her of her strength, leaving her a limp noodle strung up from the restraints. She was grateful the leather horse propped her up or she would have been hanging completely from her wrists.
Khloe felt the warm washcloth and towel gently cleaning her inner thighs, pussy and bottom hole. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations buzzing through her body until she felt Ryder lowering her restraints. Then he was there, scooping her into his arms, and she felt like she was coming home.
Khloe loved the sound of his beating heart against her ear as she snuggled against him, feeling closer to him than she had anyone ever before. The pain of possibly having to say good-bye to him again was more than she could fathom, yet it was already too late. Khloe knew she'd already given him the power to break her heart.
Chapter 21
The clock read four-thirty-three. What was the date again?
Ryder would be marking the occasion in the encrypted, online journal he kept. The log that held all of the important details of his life. Conversations or actions he might need to remember. Details for some future report he'd need to file for Langley.
Only he would know that tucked in between details of dangerous arms deals and a plethora of other illegal activities he'd witnessed as a deep cover agent, that he'd hidden the most important statement of fact he would ever record.
It was the first moment of his thirty-eight years that he knew with every fiber of his being that he was in love. Not sexually addicted or in lust, but head-over-heels, Romeo and Juliet, till-death-do-you-part kinda shit.
And there couldn't be a worse person in the world to have it happen with.
The irony was not lost on him. He never dreamed he could feel as he did for Khloe, but had she been a schoolteacher or a nurse, they might have had a small chance at happiness. It was rare, but a few of his peers had managed to make it work, taking their families with them across the globe. They'd stepped back from the most dangerous missions, but still managed to have it all. Others had retired. Walked away from their life's work for the one they loved––successfully changing their identity and staying under the radar to start over again.
But he knew the depth of the Volkovs' global reach paired with Khloe's extraordinary fame combined for an impossible combination. She didn't know it yet, but their budding relationship had been sentenced to the death penalty before it had started.
The beautiful woman inches away from him sighed softly in her sleep, subconsciously snuggling closer to him even in her slumber.
He'd left on the small lamp next to the mammoth round bed in Davidson's loft so he could watch her doze, knowing he wouldn't sleep that night, refusing to miss even a moment of their limited remaining time together. He'd lain awake memorizing every fine laugh-line around her eyes that she had frantically applied expensive creams to before she'd come to bed.
He loved that he knew that tiny secret about her. And that she took forever to eat a damn meal, or the best secret... how gorgeous and vulnerable she looked as she orgasmed. As a public figure, there was so much the world knew about Khloe Monroe, and that made him treasure his private memories of her that much more.
And that, right there, was exactly why they were doomed.
He'd already taken too many chances––put her in too much danger. Regret for not emptying his weapon into the head of every Volkov man before leaving the underground fortress outside of Moscow had never been so heavy. He'd acquired other enemies over the years, but those he could have dealt with. The Russian crime family was in a rare echelon of criminals with unprecedented global reach. He knew that as long as one of Viktor's sons were alive, he would be a hunted man and that made appearing in public with one of Hollywood's biggest starlets out of the question.
"What are you thinking about?"
Her voice startled him in the quiet of the dark loft. When he didn't answer, she added, "You look sad."
It was his turn to sigh. "I guess I am sad," he answered truthfully.
Several seconds passed before she quietly confronted the elephant presently jammed into the few inches between them. "You need to tell me."
"Tell you what?" He played dumb, pushing down the temptation to tell her the truth.
"I'm not stupid. I know you're keeping secrets from me."
He may not be able to tell her everything, but he sure as hell wouldn't let her think what he had to do was her fault. He reached out to push a messy lock of hair away from her face as he replied. "I know you aren't stupid, Princess, but it's for your own good."
He was unprepared for her burst of anger as she slapped his hand away to retort. "Bullshit. You think you're protecting me, but you're wrong. We can deal with whatever it is, but we need to do it together."
If only that were true.
"It doesn't work like that for me."
"Maybe it never has before, but that's how it's going to work this time. You know why?"
Her eyes flashed with determination in the dim lighting, stunning him into silence until she finished her thought. "It's going to work because I refuse to let you walk out on me––on us–– again. It nearly killed me last time, and we'd only been together three hours."
Her bravery was wavering, leaving vulnerability in its wake. Before his eyes, the angry actress was reduced to his fragile lover, her heart figuratively bared before him.
The old Ryder might have been able to pull it together and gloss over the moment, but in light of his own personal revelations, he could no more do anything that would injure her emotionally than he could have stabbed that bared heart with his hunting knife.
That left him in uncharted territory.
She waited, watching him intently as he weighed his words.
"It's difficult," he said softly, clearing his throat of emotion before adding, "I've never talked with a civ
ilian about it before."
Her perceptive gaze sparked with recognition of new information. "You're still in the military?"
He danced around her question. "Not exactly."
"Well, what then––exactly?"
Her impatience brought a sharpness to her tone. His inner-Dom raised an eyebrow, bringing an adorable blush to the bridge of her nose, spreading across her pale cheeks. The simple exchange only served to solidify their tenuous connection, reminding him that for the first, and only, time in his life, he understood what it meant to share his life with someone.
And not just anyone. With the remarkable, strong woman he was lucky enough to be sharing his pillow with. He hadn't known he'd been carrying around an empty lockbox in his heart all of these years, but now that she'd somehow unlocked the small compartment, it was as if he had lost the key.
He couldn't imagine going back to life with it closed again.
Yet, he'd have to try. It was the only way to keep her safe.
"I'm not allowed to share the details. Just know that my only motivation is, and has only ever been, to keep you safe." He paused, hating to add the words he knew would hurt her. "It's why we can't ever be together. At least not in the way most couples can be."
His words were a direct hit. Instant tears flooded her expressive eyes, but she angrily swished them away, refusing to accept his answer.
"That's such crap. I can't think of a single thing you could tell me that would convince me we aren't supposed to be together." A tear escaped, sliding down her left cheek, across her nose and towards the pillow below. "I know you feel the connection like I do."
It was supposed to be a statement, but he heard the reflection in her voice, turning it more into a hope.
His acting skills had kept him alive through the most dangerous scenarios, so he knew if he wanted to, he could summon the skill to lie––to look into her eyes and tell her it had all just been fun and games for him, bagging a famous actress.
If I really did love her, that would be the best thing I could do for her.
This time he cried bullshit on himself. Before factoring in love, keeping her physically safe had been all he'd thought about. It was still his primary objective.
But being in love changed everything. Her emotional wellbeing was equally important. He thought of the precarious nature of her eating disorder, certain she would revert into full blown anorexia if he handled this wrong and wasn't there to care for her.
Deep anger took hold. He'd never been one to lament about the fairness of life, in part because he'd always felt like one of the lucky ones. He'd seen a lot of fucked up shit in his travels. Yet in the middle of the night, looking into the watery eyes of the woman who had changed him forever, anger at how unfair it was that they couldn't get their shot at happiness like all the other sets of lovers galled him.
The scent of their quickie after returning from Black Light still permeated the room. It calmed him, reminding him that what they had was real––tangible.
She waited for her answer, looking more distressed with each second that passed until he blew out his breath and said words he'd never said before. "I do feel the connection, baby. In fact, I'm going to tell you two things I've never said to another woman in my entire life. Things I never dreamed I'd need to confess."
The excitement on her face waned as he added, "But there's a hitch." He waited until he knew she was listening. "You can't tell anyone. Ever."
"I would never..." she quickly objected.
He cut her off. "Your life depends on it, Khloe."
"I think you're being a bit melodramatic, don't you?" She tried to play it off nonchalantly, but he could see the worry that he was telling the truth in her gaze.
Ryder took a deep breath and broke the vow he'd taken the day he'd been sworn in as a CIA operative. "I'm not military, but I do work for the government. My job is dangerous. I've made many enemies."
"I hate the idea of you being in danger."
"I can take care of myself. It's you I'm worried about."
"Me? Why would I be in danger?" She didn't understand. She hadn't put the dots together yet.
"Baby, my enemies have deep pockets and long memories. It isn't a problem retiring can solve."
She was quiet as she internalized his words, coming to the conclusion he knew would dawn on her eventually. "And my fame has the potential to put you on the front page of magazines and lead off stories on the nightly news."
He didn't affirm her statement. There was no need.
"So I'm the one putting you in danger and not the other way around?"
Whoa. What the hell?
"Are you fucking kidding me? Don't you dare put an iota of blame on yourself. You've worked so hard. You deserve every award coming your way. It's your dream, Khloe, and I couldn't be happier for your success."
"But being seen in public with me puts you in danger of being recognized, right?"
"Yes, but..."
"So I'll retire."
"Over my dead body. And anyway, fame doesn't work like that and you know it. You could retire tomorrow and for the rest of your life, people will recognize you. And you deserve that. You worked hard for it."
"Fine, then you'll retire."
"Honey, I'd do it in a heartbeat if I thought it would help, but like I said, the damage has been done. The men who hate me will stop at nothing. If it were just me, I'd say bring it on. But being seen with you scares the shit out of me because before you, the worst they could do to me was end my life. You would be a gift to them they couldn't pass up. I've seen firsthand what they do to women. The thought of them discovering how important you are to me terrifies me."
His voice quavered with the emotion he was struggling to hold back. He had to make sure she understood how grave the situation was. Make sure she understood how critical it was to keep their brief affair hidden from the world.
Her tears were coming harder as his truth seeped in. "So that's it? Just like that? We give up?"
He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and rolling to his back until his chest was her pillow as she let loose, sobbing hard enough for both of them. He had to swallow often to choke back his own anguish, thinking about the corner they'd been backed into. The only thing that helped him was being able to stroke her long, velvety hair and whispering a lie, "It's going to be okay," over and over, wishing it were true.
After ten minutes, her sobs had turned to sniffles. He felt the pool of wetness on his chest, hating that he couldn't magically fix her sadness.
Her quiet question felt loud in the silence. "Why did you finally tell me the truth?"
He'd hoped that telling the truth would get easier, but it wasn't working. "Because you deserve to understand. I left you last time because I had to return to my mission but..." He paused, hating the next words more than any he had ever uttered in his life. "But the next time I leave, it'll be because it's the only way to keep you safe."
She hugged him harder, clinging to him as if she could physically force him to stay. "What is the other thing?"
"Sorry?"
"Before. You said you were going to tell me two things you've never confessed before. What is the second thing?"
His heart lurched with a cocktail of emotion he'd never felt before. Desire to tell her the truth warred with his normal practical intellect telling him to say whatever would help her forget about him the fastest. He'd listened to that voice the last time they'd parted ways on Valentine's night, forcing him to say the hurtful words that their time together had just been a game to him. In that moment, he remembered the pain in her eyes as his words had struck her.
God help him, but he would never do that to her again.
In one swift motion, Ryder rolled them closer to the center of the mammoth bed. Khloe's back was pressed into the mattress as he let his weight blanket her, grinding his semi-hard cock into her as he grabbed her hands, intimately linking their fingers as he forced her arms up and out, spreading her before him like a
n offering.
Their faces were inches apart. Red blotches surrounded her wet, swollen eyes. Snot dripped from her nose. And yet to him, she'd never been more beautiful. This was the Khloe Monroe the rest of the world would never get to see. The one meant for him alone in their intimate moments where she let her public facade fade and bared herself to him, allowing him to glimpse the woman at the core of the celebrity.
The woman he'd fallen in love with.
"I... well..." The confident Dom who kicked ass and took names most days had fled, leaving him to chart the new emotional waters alone. He took a deep breath and plunged forward. "I decided you deserved to know the whole truth about why I to have to leave again." Her tears were back, rolling down the outside corners of her eyes, down to soak her hair. Khloe started to struggle to free herself, unwilling to lay there as he talked of deserting her again.
"I love you, Khloe Monroe." It was a declaration. Loud and clear.
She froze beneath him, surprise and relief warring on her face. "Oh, thank God. I've wanted to tell you I loved you too, but I was so afraid I'd scare you off. Everything's going to be okay. It has to be."
He couldn't take the sound of her crying again. He crashed his mouth against hers in an attempt to end the painful confession hour.
He'd said his piece, not that it changed what had to happen. He'd find her stalker and make sure they regretted ever threatening the woman he loved. He'd see them sent to jail and then make sure Trevor had all he needed to form an impenetrable security blanket around Khloe in case the Volkovs ever found out his deepest secret.
And then I'll disappear again. It's the only way to keep her safe.
The deep sadness of not waking up beside her every day in his future tampered the passion of his kiss, slowing it to the tender exploration of lovers. He released her hands, letting her hug him tightly around his neck as he cupped her damp face in his own palms. She clung to him holding him close, while opening her legs wider, thrusting her ass off the bed as if desperate to take him inside her.