by Audrey Noire
He lifted his hips off of hers, and scooted his boxers down. She shifted her other leg out of the way, knee bending as his torso lowered again on hers. He moaned when the underside of his cock, thick and heavy, stroked along her wet slit. She pressed her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes, just letting him guide himself. If he’d been thinking about her for a year, he’d damn well deserved to take her at his own pace.
“Daria, are you-”
“Talking too much Nicolai,” she cut him off and cupped the side of his face, thumb stroking over his lower lip as he watched her face in the darkened room. “Gotta be quite. Don’t want the crew to think we’re being attacked again.” His lip quirked up under her touch and she felt the brush of his knuckles over her folds, and then the blunt heat of the head of his cock pressing into her entrance. She moaned quietly when he twisted his wrist, circling around her entrance before plunging in.
If she’d been worried about taking all of him, then it’d been with good reason. Her hips arched in protest at the intrusion, because holy hell.
“Mkay, now I know you don’t touch yourself,” she hissed out, “because that’d be worn down to a nubbin if you did.” He chuckled, low and dark, pressing in unrelentingly. It was a slow, painful burning stretch that she so more than willing to take, although he was definitely testing her limits when his hips rolled to a stop and he seated his cock fully inside of her. He was barely breathing, she noted abstractly, as she scrambled to get ahold of herself, her fingers leaving his body to grab at the sheets and fist them in her hands.
He shifted his hips and she shook her head no not yet, and then swallowed hard.
“Daria… do you want me to stop? I can-” He shifted, her cunt protested, and she whimpered.
“No, no fuck, no don’t… just a second, okay? Just a second.” She let out another slow shuddering breath and then cried out when he slipped a finger over her clit. Oh god he was gonna-
He pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle the noises she made, his finger vibrating over her and distracting her from the burn as he pulled out and then pressed back in. Ohgodyes, she thought, every nerve lighting up inside her. He did it again, hips drawing all the way back until the head of his cock just withdrew from her, only to push back in a second later in another slow assault of her overwrought senses. She was breathing harshly through her nose, whole face flushed as he watched her, took in every tiny expression she made, and used it against her, teasing her with his finger, and that holyeffmonster of a cock that split her open again and again.
“Can you be quiet, Mila?” he asked, his voice mostly teasing, but there was a hint of desperation in there as well. She narrowed her eyes at him and he smirked, pulling his hand back off her mouth and sliding it over her hip. He slid it underneath the small of her back and lifted, pulling her hips up off the bed as his knees slipped apart so he could kneel between her thighs. The angle change nearly made a liar of her and she had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep quiet as the shift of him inside her made a spark of pain blossom out that faded into rolling hot pleasure. Holy fuck why had she never done this with him before? Holding her steady and stable, he winked at her, winked like a motherfucking asshole, and started thrusting in and out languidly, finger still tormenting her quickly-becoming-oversensitive clit. Her feet slipped over the cool sheets and she whimpered almost silently.
He wasn’t even breathing hard, the bastard, just cooly thrusting into her like he could go at it all day, and that was a hot mental image that had her back arching up into him because all day in his arms, oh god all day. His thumb came down on one side of her clit, catching it between the two digits and she shook her head and braced herself for it-
She couldn’t keep back the noise then as thumb and finger vibrated on each side of her clit, and she screamed as her orgasm shuddered through her hard and clenching. His hips didn’t still in her, if anything he sped up, and she was rolling into it, using his hand on her back as a push-point as she tried to get more.
“Nico- oh god, oh god,” she could hear herself saying the words, but hardly realized that it was really her talking, as he kept at her, pushing her higher. His name died on her lips in a desperate cry when it became too much, altogether too much, but he didn’t stop. She kicked her feet out in desperation, and he had to grab her hip with his second hand to keep her from falling. Daria felt like the world was tipping backwards, fresh heat, new heat, curling inside of her as he hung onto her hips and fucked her hard, apparently giving up on taking it slow. He was breathing harder by then, hair falling in his face, and the counterpoint of his harsh breaths was her lower whimpers with each thrust.
She felt the low tremors of another, nofuckingway, orgasm boiling inside of her and she closed her eyes at the first hint of smirk on his face, his eyebrow quirking up. That fucking-
“Oh,” she gulped down a breath when he hauled her up higher an inch and his cock slid along the front wall of her cunt hard, sending sparks of need spiralling down her legs and up her chest.
“Beautiful,” he breathed out, fingers digging into her skin hard and then his head tilted back and he arched, hips jamming against hers in short, shuddering strokes. It was enough, just, and she cried out again, loosely and desperate when the tireless man worked her through another orgasm, his own following closely. She only knew because he paused for a brief moment, made a low noise as his back bowed even harder, his hips stilling against hers. She was shivering, limbs trembling and moving uncoordinated and limp as she came down watching him come. It was then, finally, that he pulled his softening cock out of her with a hiss that echoed her own. Ugh, she was soaked down there, and definitely… definitely was going to be sore in the morning. The thought made her blush again. She looked away as he cleared his throat and lay down beside her.
She was about to say something, crack a joke, make some sort of sarcastic quip, when he folded his arm around her and tugged her back against his chest. Unfairly, he’d barely broken a sweat, although it certainly made for a more comfortable post-coital snuggle. His hand stroked over her lower belly, and cupped the slight curve of it. They lay in the quiet for several minutes as her heartbeat came back down to earth, and she let herself relax back against him.
“They didn’t come check on us,” she finally said, amused and a little concerned about the rest of the team ignoring a pre-arranged signal of distress. Nicolai shrugged behind her and then planted a slow kiss on her neck, a warm touch that burrowed under her skin and made it’s way to the middle of her chest.
“They are spies. They know the difference between faked passion and real,” he said into her neck. She smiled in the dark.
“Uh huh. How’d you know I wasn’t faking it?” she asked playfully, wanting to needle at him after he’d totally destroyed her for ever wanting anyone else ever. Probably ever. He made a little noise of annoyance and the hand on her stomach dipped down, slicking between her folds to touch her clit. The over-sensitive nerves screamed at her and she jerked back against his hips with a low yelp.
“Mmm, yes, you faked it, quite well. Very impressive. I was almost convinced,” his voice held only the barest hints of sarcasm as his hand cupped against her belly again, his breathing evening out behind her. She huffed out a grumpy noise, and closed her eyes tightly.
“Asshole,” she mumbled.
“Maybe next time?” he offered sleepily, and then nuzzled his face into her hair and pulled the blanket up to cover them both. “Now sleep, yes? Tomorrow you put on another dress, and we give this operation another go, yes?”
Her eyes fluttered shut and as much as she wanted to get him back for the anal joke, it made more sense to sleep. She could punch him in the morning. Maybe. Or she could enjoy a little oral payback and wake him up with her mouth on his cock. That seemed like an even better idea. His thumb stroked tenderly over her belly button, and she drifted off thinking that at least she could tell Rykov that she’d really gotten into her role.
Chapter Four
&nbs
p; “Morning, Princess.” The words worked their way through the haze of sleep that enveloped her. Daria felt sore, in that way only a good thorough fucking with a guy who knew what he was doing made her feel. Plus her mouth felt like it’d had old socks stuffed into it. She made a face and opened her eyes. Balfour was sat in the chair across from the bed, sprawled out with a to-go cup of coffee in each hand. He looked smug. “You look like hell, kid. Adrenaline fucks are crazy huh?”
That woke her up. She sat up with a jerk, fingers flying out beside her to find empty-space where Nicolai had been the night before. She shot a scowl at Balfour as he saluted her with one cup before taking a long sip of it.
“What the hell do you want?” Daria growled out, shifting the blankets to better wrap around her person. Where was Nicolai? Had he gone back to the couch after they’d…? The thought of him sneaking out like he was somehow ashamed of their late-night hookup made her angry.
“I thought I’d welcome you to the banged-an-augmented club,” Balfour said with unholy cheer, and he stood, sauntered over to her and offered her a second cup of coffee. She took it in one hand and then jerked his head over his shoulder. “Speed is showering off. I’ll leave you two to bury the hatchet, or you know, bury something else with a morning quickie. But really, Griffin. Nice one. I am impressed at how well you stuck to your role. Didn’t break character at all.” He gave her a saucy wink. She made an annoyed noise, and pointed at the door with her cup of coffee.
“Get out. I don’t want to see you or hear from you until it’s go time, and my schedule says that the next event we have to be at isn’t until 6 tonight. Out. Go annoy Rykov.”
With a ridiculously smug grin, Balfour left the room, yanking the door shut as he left. Daria let out a slow unsteady breath and heard the shower crank off. She watched the door to the bathroom with apprehension as Nicolai finally emerged, towelling off his dark hair. Water glistened across his bare chest, and she contained a sigh from how damn good he looked.
It wasn’t fair. Some of the other new agents had been paired up with much less attractive partners, and damn but he was making it hard to stay professional. She bit the inside of her lip and he caught her eye, his lips pulling up in a half-smirk. His gaze lingered on her face and then dipped down to her breasts which were covered by the bed linens. She felt a flush crawling down her cheeks to her neck as he blatantly looked her over.
Then he was next to her, a blur again and he was seated on the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped around the coffee cup.
“You slept well,” he said, not asking but telling. She cocked an eyebrow at him and he chuckled. “As well as you might after a late-night visitor.” He set the coffee down on the bed-side table and she breathed him in, the sharp scent of the hotel body wash on his skin, and the underlying scent of him. She struggled to find something to say, because she wanted to ask him if it had meant anything to him, as much as it had meant to her. He’d said things, words might’ve just been in the heat of the moment even as much as she wanted them to be true. Being on his arm, sleeping with him, all of it had sparked something in her that had been waiting for almost a year.
“You slept okay too?” she asked, and his face split into a smile, ridiculously happy as his arms reached out for her. He enfolded her in them and she scooted forward, letting him pull her against his bare chest. The towel looped around his waist was damp, and half-falling off.
“Better than I have in many months,” he murmured low and quiet into the side of her cheek. She felt him close his eyes, the flutter of his eyelashes against her skin, and something in her heart bubbled. Whatever they had, between them? She wanted to protect it, see it through. Whatever it was that they were, or might be. She had a good inkling it was more than just basic, sexual need, but something more. She was going to take it, whatever it was, with no reservation. Nicolai blew out a puff of hair into her curls and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Are you hungry? Coffee is not enough to sustain you, or me.”
She mulled it over for a moment and then shifted back to look at him properly, a sly grin crossing her face. He watched her, a smile echoing her own tilting up at the corner of his mouth.
“How does breakfast in bed sound? I think I earned room service.”
She barely finished the words before he was up and over to the phone in a blink, dialing down and shooting her a heated stare.
“It normally takes hotels twenty minutes or more, to prepare a room service meal, yes?” He had a tilt to his forehead, his hair hanging in his eyes, and he looked like pure mischief. She couldn’t contain the feeling in her chest, expanding and filling every inch of her as she nodded.
“If you’re saying what I think you mean,” she licked her lower lip as heat sprawled across her stomach and between her thighs, “you’ll have to be quick about it.”
He smirked, phone still cradled against his ear and he winked before looking down at the menu.
“That, Mila, goes without saying.”
~*~
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Taking Sides – SNEAK PREVIEW
Here's a look at the first chapter of the next book in the ARC operatives series!
Daria Griffin stretched her arms up above her head and wondered how the hell she'd gotten so damn lucky. It'd been just over a month since their first (and very successful, hell yeah to her kickass acting skills) mission pretending to be newly weds. She might not have been able to keep the falsie-wedding ring after the operation wrapped up, but she'd definitely gotten to keep her new 'husband'. Nicolai was down on the main floor of his loft while she lazed around up in his bed. She could hear him padding around the wood floors, knowing full well he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and he was making her breakfast.
With a self-satisfied noise, she rolled over and looked out the the twelve foot windows of his ARC-assigned apartment. As an Augmented, there were a few perks that Nicolai received that Daria didn't, part of the agreement that had been signed when he'd let the ARC scientists mess with his genetic coding. All Augmented were given housing, if they didn't have their own, and even if they did it was strongly encouraged that they move into one of the ARC buildings located in the artsy district of New York City. Nicolai had made a comment once that it was buying him off for the sheer agony that had been the process of becoming an Augmented.
Regardless, his place beat the pants off of her tiny bachelor bedsit, and hands down any day she'd prefer to be sprawled on his bed watching the city lights. Plus his place had soundproofing, and given her and Nico's rather active night-time habits, they needed it.
“Mila, you had best sit up, I am coming,” the man in question was walking up the black metal spiral staircase, a mug of coffee in one hand, a plate balanced in the other, and a sweet smile lighting his face when he saw her. Daria bit her lip as her heart thrilled in her chest and she sat, bending her knees under the sheets and leaning forward to wrap her arms around them. He put her coffee cup and plate on the bed-side table and then leaned down into her. She tilted her head up and he dropped a slow, warm kiss over her mouth.
Daria let out a happy sigh, curling an arm up around the back of his neck and tugged him in closer. Just a month in and the newness of him and their relationship still hummed in her veins every time they kissed. The first week back had been a tangle of figuring out what exactly their relationship was, and then the inevitable awkward conversation with their senior operatives, Anastasia Rykov and Frank Balfour, about fraternization with your op partner. Balfour had been all for them hooking up (not that his enthusiasm had been a surprise, the older man was like a barely-contained drunken ball-pit party on a good day), but Ryko
v had urged discretion. Discretion... that was more Nicolai's problem than Daria's. He was the kind of guy to wolf whistle, throw a cheesy line out, wink suggestively, and always had been before Daria had collided into his life. Being flirty at work didn't phase him in the slightest, but he'd never shown her that kind of attention there before and starting to do so would raise eyebrows. There had been a few close calls, but Daria figured they’d been cautious enough.
“You are always the most beautiful in the morning light, Daria,” Nicolai whispered against her lips, two of his fingers playing with a rebellious curl of her hair that spiralled down her cheek. Speaking of cheesy lines, she thought and pulled away with a wry smile.
“Already made me breakfast there, Secretariat, you don't need to lay on the charm to get me in your bed. I'm right here.” She pressed another kiss to his lips and then pulled away, eyeing up the peculiar breakfast offering. A waffle, with tomatoes, avocado and some sort of white sauce? It had tiny orange flecks of something crumbled over it too. She raised a speculative eyebrow at it and then looked at him. “This isn't one of your weird high-metabolism foods is it? Because unlike you I have to watch what I eat. I just bought new bras and I want to wear them out, not out-grow them.”
It was a blessing and a curse that most of her weight piled on her breasts first, not that being curvy was bad, just that bras were damn expensive. Nicolai snorted and passed her the plate.
“Do not underestimate the restorative power of crumbled Doritos on a waffle,” he said as she took it from him, and he pointed to the orange flecks. “You will like those, I can promise you.”