by Jo Davis
The driver’s door was stuck, and he had to yank it several times before getting it open enough to get his hands on the man. “Wake up, motherfucker.” After unbuckling the seat belt, he dragged the groaning man onto the ground. “Wake up! Who’re you working for? Dietz?”
Another pitiful moan was his answer. Cursing, he grabbed his cell phone and placed a call. Bastian’s muffled voice greeted him.
“Chevalier.”
“It’s Kelly. I’ve got the assailant. He’s a little banged up, but he should be able to talk. I need a cleanup crew here fast, before the cops arrive.”
“Okay, I’m on it.” His friend sounded wretched.
“How’s Michael?” God, he dreaded the answer.
“I’m escorting him to the compound with McKay now. It’s not looking good,” he said, voice wavering.
He closed his eyes briefly, sending up a prayer to whomever was listening to cut Michael a break for once. The man deserved to live, to be happy. “Hang in there, buddy. He’ll make it, if for no other reason than to see Dietz in hell.”
“He’ll have to stand in line.” Bastian paused, and when he spoke again, steel threaded his orders. “Don’t come to the compound, any of you. I’ll keep all of you updated on his condition. Get some rest and carry on with the assignment as planned. That’s what Michael would want, and it’s what I want.”
“You’ve got it. And Bastian… when he wakes up, tell him we won’t fail.”
“I will,” he said hoarsely. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
Jesus Christ. Michael couldn’t die. He was the heart of SHADO, and his agents loved him, down to a man.
There was no way now to help Michael except to do what he knew best — his job.
And unfortunately for Dietz and his host of murderers, he’d just been handed a personal motive to succeed.
As they emerged from the sedan Blaze thanked the agent who’d given him and Emma a ride home.
“No problem, Kelly. Again, awesome job catching that bastard. We’ll make sure he doesn’t see the light of day again.”
Blaze nodded and waved, then took Emma’s hand and led her toward the front door. Rage coiled in his gut, black and dangerous, and it needed a safe outlet. Michael, Dietz, the weapon, and innocent endangered citizens all vied for the top spot among the jumble in his head, and he needed to escape. Had to before he went crazy.
Letting them inside, he locked the door and turned to Emma. She stood in the foyer staring back at him, looking as strung out as he felt.
“Come here,” he said, opening his arms.
She launched herself at him, and he held her close, inhaling her scent. Drinking in her warmth, reassuring himself that she was all right. It could easily have been Emma who’d been shot. Hell, the assassin could’ve taken out any of them before they even blinked. The idea of losing her at all, much less so cruelly and suddenly, made him want to wallow in her.
Mark her.
Tilting her head up for a kiss, he tasted her briefly before letting her go. She shrugged off her coat and tossed it in a chair, giving him a sad smile.
“I’m tired, but I doubt I could sleep if I wanted to, considering.”
“I know how to fix that.” Stepping close, he ran a finger over the swell of her breast just visible over the vee of her blouse. His cock was slowly awakening at the prospect, filling his jeans. “We’re going to spend some time in the basement.”
She blinked at him, then gave a humorless laugh. “After what happened tonight? You can’t be serious.”
“That’s exactly why we both need this,” he explained, his patience thin. His sub challenging him proved she needed a firm hand, and now he couldn’t let it go. “If we don’t release the tension, the pressure, we’ll never get any sleep, and we have to be on our toes tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex while Michael is fighting for his life,” she spat angrily. “Forget it.”
“I’m not asking, Emma.” He injected a thread of steel into his tone.
“I don’t care.” Blue eyes snapped, and her jaw clenched.
“You will.” With that, he bent, scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder. Ignoring her shriek of protest, he strode for the stairs that descended to the playroom.
“You jerk! Put me down!” Her fist pounded his back uselessly.
“I will, soon as we get there.” He started down, careful not to drop her despite her wriggling.
“I mean it! I’m not putting out for you, buster,” she fumed.
“Then use your safe word.”
“What?”
“You know how it works. Use your safe word.”
Silence met his demand, and he allowed himself a small smile. Just as he’d thought — she needed this as much as he did. At the bottom, he carried her to the middle of the room and set her on her feet. “Take off your clothes.” He crossed his arms, waiting.
“Damn you.”
Tears shone in her eyes, but he held firm. “Damn me all you like — just remember I’m your master. Clothes off. Now.”
Flags of color darkened her fine cheekbones as she stared back at him, chest heaving. After several long moments she grabbed the edge of her shirt, hands shaking, and pulled it over her head. Next, she unhooked her bra and dropped it onto the shirt, then kicked off her shoes. As she pushed down her pants, he enjoyed the sight of her full breasts swaying with her movements. The tips were hardened to points, a dark rose. She straightened and stepped out of the pants, and lowered her gaze to the floor.
The unconscious move took him completely by surprise and filled him with pride. Yes, she was pissed, but she had submitted to him.
And she was magnificent.
“Very good, Emma. Let’s go over here.” He took her hand and led her to a piece of gym equipment called a horse, one gymnasts normally used for floor exercises or vaults. His use for the device was something much different. “Bend over the bench and spread your arms down it on either side of you, so your wrists are near the rings.”
A grumble met his order, but she did as she was told.
“Not another word from you, or I’ll give you the punishment you’re asking for regardless of the stress we’re both under. Nod if you understand.” She did, though awkwardly with her head resting on the padding. “All right. Spread your legs wide. No, wider.”
With his sub in position, he used rope to bind her wrists to the rings on the bench. After a tug to make sure they were secure but not too tight, he retrieved a spreader bar and attached either end to an ankle. Finished, he stood back and surveyed his handiwork.
“God, yes. That’s beautiful.”
His hungry gaze followed the line of her back to her rounded buttocks, tilted up and presented to him like a tasty treat, pussy gleaming. She belonged to him, and he’d do whatever he wanted with her gorgeous body. His cock was already leaking in anticipation as he shed his clothes and tossed them aside. Every primal instinct screamed at him to plunge into her, and he would, but not yet. Tonight called for something with a harder edge than he’d used before. Something to push her boundaries even more.
Walking over to his collection hanging on the wall, he selected a flogger with a supple leather tip. This one was perfect to deliver a sting, but wielded properly it would not leave permanent marks.
Eager to get started, he moved behind her and let the leather slide over her spine, her rear. Teasing, he rubbed it against her pussy lips, using the barest pressure. “You’ve probably guessed this is a flogger and that I’m going to use it on you.” Her breath hitched, but she remained quiet. “I’m going to find out how much of a pain slut you really are, and when I find that zone you’re going to sob with wanting to be fucked, my girl.”
Taking a step back, he got into position and flicked the leather across one pert ass cheek. She whimpered but remained still. He gave her another lick, this one a bit harder, bringing up a faint line of red on her pretty skin. She wriggled, and he began laying stripes in earnest, workin
g methodically, his tempo slow and even. He didn’t give her time to fully recover before he laid the next mark, and after a few moments, another breakthrough occurred.
The helpless noises in her throat took on a huskier tone and she began tilting her bottom into the blows as much as her position allowed. Her cries became pitched with arousal, desperate for more.
“You like that, baby?” he asked between strokes. “Jesus, that’s so pretty. Your ass is so red, your pussy pink and wet. Do you need my cock?” A hoarse cry was his answer. “Don’t worry, you’re going to have it.”
A few more strokes and she’d melted in her restraints, mindless with desire and ready for him. Unable to deny either of them another second, he pitched the flogger away and nudged between her slick folds. Grabbing her hips, he buried himself in her pussy in one smooth movement, almost shouting in sheer pleasure.
“Feels so good,” he rasped. “Gonna fuck you until you scream.”
He withdrew slowly, then slammed home. Again and again, loving the mewling noises she made, his helpless captive. The clench of her channel around his cock, the sight of his length disappearing into her heat, drove him insane. Before he knew it, he was fucking her hard and fast, pounding his cock as deep as possible.
All too soon, she tightened around him and cried out, “Master!”
His control disintegrated, and his balls drew up. One last plunge, and his orgasm exploded, filling her with his cum. The spasms went on and on until he lay draped over her back, spent. And centered as never before.
Carefully he withdrew and set about releasing her ankles and then her wrists. Taking her arm, he helped her straighten and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Are you all right?”
“Much better now,” she said softly. The anger was gone, her expression sated, face glowing. “I never knew I could feel that way. Like I was flying.”
“Those crazy endorphins again.” He smiled and was gratified when she returned it.
“And one crazy man.”
“I don’t dispute that. But this crazy man is your master.”
“I doubt I’ll forget that again.” She rubbed her bottom for emphasis.
“If you do, I’ll take great pleasure in reminding you,” he teased.
“I’ll bet.” She hesitated, suddenly unsure. “What’s my punishment for speaking to you the way I did upstairs?”
He shook his head, sobering. “I think we’ve both been punished enough for one day. Let’s clean up and get some sleep while we can.”
He got no argument on that score.Together they headed upstairs, and his mind drifted to Michael and the upcoming assignment.
And whether their boss would live to see Dietz in hell.
Emma gripped Blaze’s hand as the plane lifted off the ground, nails digging into his skin.
His free hand covered hers, and she heard the sympathy in his voice underneath the exhaustion.
“I take it you don’t like to fly?”
“I’m worse when it comes to helicopters, but no. If I was supposed to fly, I’d have been born with feathers.”
A tired chuckle met this declaration. “You know the stats say that flying is the safest way to travel.”
“Maybe, but if the engine in my car dies, I can just pull over to the side of the road.” She gave him an arch look.
“True.” Leaning over, he gave her a kiss. “What can I do to take your mind off your fear? Meet you in the restroom and make you a member of the mile-high club?”
She couldn’t help but grin at the image. “Do people really do that? As tiny as those spaces are, I find that hard to believe.”
“It can be done.” He looked rather smug. “Not that I’d know or anything.”
“You and another person fitting in there? No way.”
“Way.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to know the details.”
“Probably not, especially since the sky marshal threatened to arrest us. Talked my way out of it, though, when he realized I was undercover.”
“You must have the devil’s luck.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Briefly she entertained the suggestion, but decided against it. They didn’t need attention called to them no matter how lucky Blaze believed himself to be.
“I like your hair long,” he commented, gesturing to her extensions. “It really does suit you.”
“Thanks. Most men prefer long hair, I guess.”
“Not necessarily. I think you have one of those faces with great bone structure and you’ll look terrific no matter what style you pick.”
“How sweet.” Reaching out, she fingered a lock of his newly highlighted mane. “You look pretty sexy yourself. Told you these tints would match your golden eyes.”
He snorted. “Looks weird on me, especially the way you teased it. I feel like the frickin’ Cowardly Lion.”
“You’re my lion and you’re anything but cowardly. Rrrrr.” His laugh made her smile.
“God. Okay, how about Barry Gibb? I’m feeling the uncontrollable urge to break out into a Bee Gees song.”
“You’re terrible!”
“That’s what they tell me.”
They snickered as quietly as they could, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. Blaze was pretty funny when he wanted to be, a little nutty. So at odds with his Dom persona, especially the powerful master of last night, yet it endeared him to her even more.
She leaned into his shoulder and they fell silent for a while, the mood turning quiet. Reflective. Michael’s condition dominated her thoughts, and she sensed Blaze was thinking about him as well. Despite Dr. McKay’s grave prediction, he’d survived the night — just barely — and was still hanging on when she and Blaze had boarded the plane.
“Thinking about Michael?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, he hasn’t been far from my mind for more than five minutes at a time.”
“Mine, too.”
She squeezed his hand tightly. “He’s going to make it. He has to, or SHADO would never be the same.”
“Neither would Bastian.”
“What do you think happened between them?” she asked, peering up at him.
“Bastian wouldn’t say. He didn’t even admit it was Michael who broke his heart, but I’m pretty sure that’s who he was talking about. If I had to take a guess, I’d say Michael marrying Maggie had something to do with the estrangement.”
“And Michael being straight.”
“Or in denial.”
“Could be,” she admitted. “I’m just glad he pulled through the surgery. Maybe now they’ll have a chance to really reconcile.”
“I hope so.” He paused for a few seconds. “Have you heard anything about that federal agent who helped you escape Dietz?”
“J.C.’s fine. He called before we left, and he’s recuperating at home now.”
“You two really bonded in a short time, didn’t you?” A tinge of jealousy colored his words.
“Yes, but you have nothing to worry about, honey,” she said seriously. “He has his life and I have mine. We crossed paths for a time, but that’s all there will be.”
“I can’t say I’m sorry to hear it, though I’ll always be grateful to him for looking out for my baby.”
“I can’t believe he fooled Dietz for a second into thinking he was dirty.”
“Well, Dietz’s ego is pretty big. He probably never thought anyone could infiltrate his nasty group.”
“He’s about to be proven wrong. Twice.”
“Damned right.” He smiled and gave her a sweet kiss.
The rest of the flight passed in companionable quiet and sporadic conversation interspersed with reading a magazine and looking out the window. Funny, with Blaze beside her she wasn’t nearly as nervous about flying. It was as though since the man was so invincible in her eyes, nothing bad would dare happen to him, and to her by association. Silly, but it kept her calm.
Despite his comforting presence, the plane being brought in for a s
afe landing gave her a familiar rush of relief. She’d taken on a hunk of hurtling metal held together with spit and rivets, and cheated death once more.
They collected their bags and walked through the terminal, as casually as any couple in D.C. for a visit. Innocuous. Throughout the long night, in between getting updates on Michael, she’d made certain their choice of travel clothing would blend them into the background. Jeans and muted colors for their shirts and jackets. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and Blaze’s was loose on his shoulders.
Glancing at him, her throat closed a bit, the place between her thighs heating even though it had been mere hours since their session. There was only so much she could do to make this sexy-as-hell man fade into the scenery. She might be a master costume and makeup artist, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. Short of altering his face with stage makeup to render him ugly, there was no way to hide his beauty. And this assignment called for an attractive couple.
She was a novice when it came to performing undercover rather than simply preparing an agent to do so, but she managed not to search the lot for Ozzie and Willis. They had arrived first to retrieve the surveillance van Michael had arranged for them, and were here somewhere, watching and listening. They’d never be too far away to come running if absolutely necessary, and only if their cover was blown.
It gave her peace of mind and at the same time was a source of embarrassment. With their electronic listening technology, backed up by the minicams she’d sewn into Blaze’s and her clothing, they’d see and hear everything.
If Ozzie thought to make her the butt of his jokes for the next few years, she’d fix his wagon real quick.
In long-term parking, they located the black Mercedes Michael had also provided as part of their cover. Once away from the airport, they became Mr. and Mrs. John Chase, well-off socialites who’d just moved to the area outside D.C. and who were looking for a new D/s club.
Which would take them to the Velvet Underground. Tonight.