by Jo Davis
Leaning forward, he kissed Bastian’s temple. “How do you want it? Rough? Or slow and easy?”
“Fast and hard,” he breathed. “So hard I want to feel it next week. It’s been so long.”
“You’ve got it.”
Removing his fingers, he positioned the broad head of his cock and gripped his partner’s hips. Began to push into the tight, sweet hole. Unable to resist, he thrust all the way to his balls and was gratified by the other man’s moan of delirium.
“Oh, yes… please, fuck me hard.”
He withdrew and slammed deep again. And again. Faster and faster until he’d established a brisk tempo, fucking his lover with punishing strokes. Giving them both what they wanted.
“Fuck, yeah,” he rumbled, sweat rolling down his cheek. “So tight and hot, gripping my cock. Such a sweet, beautiful ass.”
“Oh, God!”
Bastian stiffened with a cry, body spasming with the force of his orgasm. Two, three more thrusts and Blaze followed, burying himself deep, pumping his load into that delectable ass. On and on, filling him with cum. Whoever didn’t want this man was crazy.
When the shocks faded, he draped himself over his partner’s back and splayed his fingers over the man’s smooth throat, urging him back. Bastian leaned into him and offered himself for a kiss: a final, lovely gesture of submission.
Blaze took what he offered, kissing him deeply, the connection an affirmation of the pleasure they’d shared. He broke the kiss at last and nuzzled his partner’s neck. “Thank you for giving yourself to me. You’re fantastic.”
“No, thank you. Having someone like you desire me, take me like that, gives me hope that I’m not so invisible after all.”
“Someone like me?”
“Exciting, dominant, powerful. Everything I’m not.”
“I’d like to beat the bastard who made you feel that way about yourself,” he said, easing from the tight channel. “You’re extremely exciting, or couldn’t you tell by how enthusiastically I pounded your fine ass?”
Bastian laughed, his face pinking a bit as he tugged his pants on again. “Good point. I’m feeling pretty great about myself at the moment, considering.”
“If you weren’t, I’d worry that I did something wrong.” He tied off the condom and disposed of it in the garbage can, then tucked himself inside his jeans.
“No way. You did everything exactly right.”
“Glad you think so.” He paused, studying the other man’s expression. “You’re quite the submissive, very responsive. Did you know that about yourself?”
“Not really, no. I guess I’ve never really explored that side of myself. I always thought submissive equaled weak, especially in the eyes of—” He looked away, clamping his lips shut.
“Of the one you love?” he probed gently.
Bastian looked at him and nodded. “Yeah. Don’t most people see it that way?”
“Only misinformed people. It takes a very strong person to submit, to reach that place inside himself or herself that allows them to place their body, their very safety completely in another person’s hands. It’s all about trust and letting go.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds beautiful.”
The longing in the man’s voice touched him, and he made a quick decision. “It is. I want to show you something. Come on.”
“What is it?” his friend asked, trailing him.
“I’m going to show you my basement dungeon.”
“You mean… as in whips and chains?” He sounded nervous.
“Yep. My private playpen. The place where I make all good subs scream.”
“Shit!”
“And Bastian?”
“Yes?”
“You might want to use your cell phone and let them know you’ll be out sick for the rest of the day,” he said slyly, chuckling at the other man’s tortured groan.
He counted his lucky stars that Bastian had dropped by today with news. The man was lonely, in need of a self-esteem boost, and Blaze had the cure.
It might just be the distraction he needed as well, to take his mind off his worry about another sexy blonde.
One very dear to his heart.
* * *
Emma paced her room — no, her prison — ready to pull her hair out. J.C. had been conspicuously absent after their scorching night together, and other than the meals that had been brought to her room for the past three days, she’d been pretty much ignored. Had something happened to her protector? Oh, God, maybe Dietz had found out his cover and killed him. Maybe she was next. She felt like an animal in a cage, quietly going insane from stress and isolation.
The lock turned and the door burst open, making her jump, pressing a hand over her thundering heart. J.C. closed the door and walked briskly toward her, putting a finger over his lips to warn her from saying anything.
“I’ve missed you, sweet thing,” he said with a lightheartedness that didn’t meet his eyes. “Give me a hug.”
“Me, too. It’s boring in here.” She accepted the hug, tensing when he whispered in her ear, almost too low to be heard.
“Be ready to move tonight. Dietz has decided you’re too big of a liability and is planning to get rid of you.”
Oh, God. “O-okay.”
“I’ll be back around midnight, so have on your running shoes,” he whispered. Then, in a louder voice, “Damn, you give good hugs. And other stuff, too.”
“Thanks. Back at you. Can you stay for a while?”
“I wish I could. I’ve got a ton of things to do, plus patrol this evening. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you have everything you need, or if you want me to find you a book. I know it sucks with no TV.”
“Well, I’d like a magazine to read, if it’s not too much trouble.”
He winked, and she got the message. They’d be gone before the magazine became necessary. “No problem. Any certain kind?”
“No, whatever is lying around is fine.”
“All right. I’ll be back when I can.” Midnight, he mouthed.
She nodded, knowing how big a risk he was taking in getting her safely away from this hellhole. He was jeopardizing his mission to save one innocent woman when the future of the free world was at stake. But being selfish, she didn’t want to die sooner than necessary, so she nodded, willing to allow him to take the chance.
If that makes me a bad person, so be it.
She longed to see Blaze again, hold him in her arms. Have him squeeze her and tell her everything would be all right now.
A little bit longer, and she’d find out whether she’d ever see him again.
The phone rang at nine thirteen.
Blaze glanced at the caller ID and picked up. “What’s up?”
“We’ve got Dietz’s location,” Bastian said. “The op is going wheels up in forty-five minutes. Be at the launch pad or be left behind. Michael wasn’t planning to call you until after they’d left.”
Relief nearly sent him to his knees. Part of him had been afraid his friend wouldn’t go against Michael and the op would take place without him. “I’m there. How’s it going down?”
“Two groups, two choppers. They’re going in quiet to get the drop on Dietz, hopefully recapture him alive and some of his cronies as well. No word on the weapon. Might be there, might not.”
“You gonna catch shit for this?”
“Probably, but don’t worry about it. He owes me.”
No. He couldn’t let Bastian get in trouble. “Nah, I’ll take the heat. You may have given me the heads-up, but I’m the one crashing the party. My choice.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. And Bastian, thanks.”
“Thank me by bringing our agent home.”
He was already moving even as he hung up, yanking his SIG from the holster and checking the clip, shoving it in again. He stuck one of his backup weapons in the waistband of his camouflage pants, and a smaller one in his ankle holster. His wicked M16, which he’d d
ubbed the Attitude Adjuster, he slung over one shoulder and headed out, less than thirty seconds after hanging up.
The drive to the SHADO compound had never seemed so long. Still, he made it in record time and pulled through the gate about twenty minutes later, flashing his ID at the guard on night duty. Thankfully, the guy wasn’t in the mood to chat, and he continued on, parked, pulled his hair back in a ponytail, and jammed his camouflage hat on his head, pulling the brim low over his eyes. He didn’t often put his hair back, so he hoped fading into the background, along with the organized chaos, meant nobody would zero in on him — and the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here — until things were well under way.
Circling the main building, he jogged across the tarmac toward the small but lethal force gathering around two sleek, fast, armed helicopters. These were newer than the old Hueys they sometimes used, which were long-lived flying tanks, and didn’t make as much noise. Under return fire, however, the Huey was a better choice, made to take a licking. A trade-off either way.
Scanning the two distinct groups from under his hat, he searched for Michael, not seeing him anywhere. No doubt it had never occurred to the man that his new right-hand would make his first official act to countermand a direct order.
Well, that ought to make things a bit awkward around the office. So much for getting a Christmas card from the boss. Or even a bag of switches — which, by the way, were highly underrated.
As the groups loaded up, Blaze chose one and mixed right in, then took a seat among them as though he’d received the same orders as everyone else. He didn’t breathe easier until the craft lifted off and was several miles into the flight, much too late to call off the op and return him to the compound.
There wasn’t much talking among the men, for which he was grateful. The biggest part of the ride passed in easy silence, livening up some only as they bore down on their destination.
“Hope we catch that fucker,” one man called above the noise.
“Then we’re gonna feed him his own dick,” another one said.
“Hey, Kelly. Thought you was sittin’ this one out?” This from Byrd, a big bald guy who looked like Mr. Clean.
“You heard wrong. Did you really think I was going to let your ugly ass grab all the glory?”
Byrd grinned. “You can try and stop me.”
The pilot put them down in a remote clearing — a couple of miles from their target, he guessed. Disembarking, he made himself as inconspicuous as possible. He wasn’t the team leader on this one — a fact that irked him to no end — but he’d have to follow for a change, something he hadn’t done in ages.
A man named Rivera addressed them all. “Okay, listen up. The border of the estate is a half mile this way,” he said, pointing to the south with the muzzle of his weapon. “One point seven miles to the main house. The place is well guarded, so be careful. B-team, you’ll secure the perimeter. A-team, you’ll secure the main house. Just incapacitate them if you can help it — we want as many alive as possible. Eliminate those who challenge you and pose a real threat. Bring Agent Foster safely out. Any questions?”
No one had any, so they got moving. Blaze assigned himself to A-team with a feral grin. Rivera wasn’t going to relish having to explain to their boss how he’d picked up an extra man without even noticing. For himself, he’d be damned lucky if he wasn’t fired.
Emma was worth making a stand.
He shunned the night vision goggles the others were wearing, and they took off, moving as stealthily as they could through the woods and bristling with weapons. He hated the NVG s and rarely used them, finding them to be weird and disorienting. He preferred to take out the enemy using his senses, like his ancestors used to do before such items were ever conceived. His senses were the only thing he trusted.
Nearing the perimeter, they fanned out and crept slowly, weapons at the ready. B-team took the lead, an occasional soft, muffled grunt of surprise sounding from the darkness. Taking out the enemy, one traitor at a time. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the main piece of shit.
As they neared the house he spotted a guard leaning against a tree, obviously bored and not paying attention. He glanced over at Byrd and gestured to the distracted guard to indicate he’d take care of this one. Just as he stepped up right behind the man, the guy turned and sucked in a deep breath as though to yell a warning, going for the gun on his hip.
The guard was too slow. Blaze slammed the butt of the M16 into the side of the man’s head and watched him slump to the ground. “Nighty-night,” he whispered, and smiled grimly. He’d need a lot more than ibuprofen when he woke up — he’d need a good lawyer.
He nodded at Byrd, and they split off together, circling around the back of the house. Byrd knocked out another guard and dragged him behind a big potted plant, giving the unconscious body a boot in the side for good measure. Blaze crouched beside a shrub and turned his attention to a wall of windows overlooking the property. The drapes were closed, hindering their view, but in the yellow glow from within he could barely make out shapes moving around. It was impossible to tell how many people were inside, but he knew to be prepared for anything.
He motioned to Byrd, indicating they should get close to the house—
A body tackled him from behind, a beefy arm going around his neck. The unseen enemy had probably planned to twist and break his neck, but his forward momentum hurled them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Blaze managed to maneuver onto his back, but the bastard was on him in an instant, a huge hunting knife slashing toward his throat.
Seizing the man’s wrist, he stopped the blade from slicing too deep, rolled, and twisted the arm. Bone cracked, and his enemy let out a cry, dropping the knife. Without hesitating, he scooped up the weapon and slit the guard’s throat, jaw clenching at the spray of blood and the awful gurgling noise.
The guard clutched at his neck for a few seconds, and then his hand fell to the ground. His eyes glazed as he stared at the moonlight without seeing. Blaze allowed himself a moment of regret for a life taken by his hand, but the man had made his choice the day he threw in his lot with terrorists.
Wiping off the blade in the grass, he shoved it in his boot for safekeeping. Byrd, who hadn’t moved and obviously hadn’t had any doubt that Blaze could handle the attacker alone, gave him a thumbs-up. With the threat dispatched, they continued their slow progress toward the house, keeping cover in dark shadows, behind trees and bushes.
Halfway there, they heard voices from inside the house. Loud. Anxious. Blaze held up a hand, and they stopped, listening.
Yeah, someone was shouting. Upset. Through a part in one set of drapes, he could see a figure pace by the window but couldn’t make out the man’s identity. Movement inside increased, more voices entering the fray.
For a second he thought their presence had been discovered, but it didn’t have that type of vibe. He was certain B-team had successfully removed the guards stationed outside with no time for an alarm to be raised. What the hell was going on?
Just as he was about to motion to Byrd, a patio door to the left, which was situated in an area a few rooms away from where the excitement was taking place, slid open quietly. Two figures stole into the darkness and struck out across the lawn. A man dressed as a guard, and a woman.
Even though she wore a ball cap, no doubt to cover her short, silvery blond hair, he’d know her form anywhere. Emma.
She was escaping with the aid of an unknown man, and they were in a hurry. Blaze rose from his spot with the intention of intercepting them, sending them safely to one of the waiting choppers, when three guards burst from the house, shouting.
The guards spied the fleeing couple, and weapons were raised. The man with Emma pushed her behind him and raised his own weapon, ready to defend them.
And that’s when all hell really broke loose.
Seven
At ten minutes after midnight, Emma was starting to get nervous. Really freaked. J.C. wouldn’t be late unless somethi
ng was wrong, and if anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. He shouldn’t have tried to help her, and she should never have agreed to—
And then he was there, coming through the door, handing her a gun. “Take this.”
She took the weapon from him, heaving a ragged sigh. “Where have you been?”
“I was on my way up, but Dietz and a couple of his top dogs were arguing about something. I listened for a few minutes to get the gist, and it seems a couple of them want to move the weapon. Dietz doesn’t want to take the chance, insisting it’s safe where it is ‘at the Liberation compound,’ in his words.”
“So now we know without a doubt that it isn’t here. Now all we have to do is find out where this compound is and retrieve the thing.”
“No, what we do right now is get the hell out. I think Dietz was about to come for you when he was waylaid by this argument. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s move.”
She followed him, the gun feeling strange in her hand. Not that she didn’t know how to use one if necessary, but her job didn’t usually require her to be armed. She’d been in the field only twice to witness her creations in action, and even then she hadn’t needed to draw a weapon. But if it came down to her or the bad guys, she knew the one she’d pick.
Her companion went in the opposite direction from the main stairs, and she hoped he had a good alternative route. She wasn’t disappointed.
He led her to a staircase in a quieter part of the house, away from the faint noise of raised voices. They descended slowly, treading lightly, ears strained for any sound that might indicate they’d been discovered.
At the bottom, J.C. gestured to his left, and they tiptoed through a couple of turns until he steered them toward an empty, darkened room. Just as they reached the open doorway, three guards rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and he pushed her through.