by Honey Jans
Letting out a gasp at the memory, she opened her eyes and locked gazes with the sexy specter. He'd didn't look very ghostly this close up, as a matter of fact he had a scar that crossed his handsome face from his left eye to disappear into his sexy pelt of dark hair. Lord, what a hunk. A warm lethargy swept through her. Time seemed to hang suspended as she took in his long straight nose, firm sultry mouth, and fierce alchemist's eyes glittering down at her with what ... outrage, curiosity, heat? She read all three and creamed at the confirmation of his sexual interest in her.
Shit, he even looked like he'd stepped out of one of her favorite erotic novels, complete with a tux. Kind of made her feel underdressed, pulsing under him in only her bra and panties. Shit, they were her granny panties, plain white cotton.
She couldn't help feeling a pang that he'd been hurt so badly as she focused on his scar. The fact she sympathized with him was proof she was under the influence of something. Trembling as he pressed intimately against her, she registered idiotically that his breath smelled like coffee and cinnamon, comforting scents. Some field agent she'd turned out to be, to be taken by the enemy. Where the hell were they? A glance beyond him showed her a full moon outside and what looked like the jungle. Shit, they sure weren't in Kansas anymore, or the embassy.
It was night and she was his prisoner, didn't that bring up a lot of forbidden fantasies? Her pulse raced. Well damn, it definitely had to be the drugs blunting her self-preservation instincts and making her ... horny. “What the fuck did you give me, you sneaky bastard?” she opened her mouth to scream.
He cursed and bent to kiss her, stifling her cries.
Melanie turned into a big puddle of need when his hot mouth slanted demandingly over hers, turning her cries into a moan. His kiss became slow and seductive. She kissed him back, knowing she shouldn't, but unable to resist. He tasted delicious, she decided, savoring his heady blend of coffee, cinnamon, and hot man.
He nipped at her lower lip, demanding admittance, and the last bit of her inhibitions vanished. She opened her mouth for him, her tongue dueling with his as her body throbbed under him. When she tried to wrap her arms around him, he grabbed her wrists, holding them down, frustrating her. Instead, she had to settle for rocking her damp tingling sex against the throbbing bulge of his massive erection, sending shards of pleasure through her that made her toes curl.
Something deep inside of her melted as he ruthlessly claimed her mouth, his cock pressing against her tingling mound, pleasuring her more than she'd thought possible. She'd fantasized about masterful men for years, and even had a collection of erotic romance to show for it, along with her toys. A shameful secret, one she'd never shared with anyone but her boss, Dot. They'd exchanged hot reads, but while Dot had an active love life, hers had been pretty much non-existent, until now.
Whimpering as her breasts swelled against his broad chest, she could feel her nipples harden to jewels tingling against him. Was his chest hairy or smooth, she wondered. What's more, what did he look like without the tux? Wild imaginings went through her brain like a roller coaster, and she went along for the thrill ride, pressing closer to him, trying to come. Her sex embarrassingly wet and creamy, she rocked her panty-clad mound against him like a cat in heat. Oh good grief, maybe he'd given her something like Spanish fly, making her insatiable for him. Pleasure rippled through her sex, making her gasp, as her body tightened, and all her inhibitions vanished. She mewled into his mouth at the sweet sensation. She'd never known anything like this wonderful, erotic commotion inside of her as she cried out, whether from fear or passion, she couldn't say.
She shivered, sucking at his tongue, wriggling against him as he bumped against her. She found herself dry humping him as the pressure built up inside her. This was what she ached for, dreamed of. Under his ministrations, she forgot her anger, fear, betrayal, almost her own name. How could she think while in his arms? He groaned into her mouth and pressed tighter.
He broke the kiss, murmured something dark and desperate, as he bent to suck on her neck. Her face burned—her whole body burned. She whimpered against him and tried to put her arms around him again, but he held them fast, effortlessly restraining her for his pleasure. She felt herself growing wetter as she shimmied against him. How sick was it to be aroused by one's captor? It was even sicker that she wanted more of him.
He broke the kiss. Panting, she let out a cry of protest. She lifted her head off the mattress to try to kiss him again, but he drew far enough away to thwart her, his gunmetal silver eyes narrowing. He was breathing hard, sweating ... the pulse in his throat beating along with his throbbing cock. Who was he fighting, both of them?
"Who are you?” he demanded.
Interesting interrogation techniques the man had. By his Texas twang, she knew he wasn't Sumerian intelligence, or Columbian ... so who was he? A private mercenary seemed the likely answer; goodness knew there were hordes of them around the world. She simmered under him, both turned on and frustrated, his gruff tone pissing her off. “I might ask you the same question, kidnapper..."
"I'm asking the questions around here,” he said, his voice turning seductive, his hand letting go of her wrist to cup her breast.
Melanie knew it was no doubt a deliberate attempt to turn her on so she'd tell all. She wouldn't blurt out any secrets, but his hot, masterful touch did excite her. She hissed with pleasure when he squeezed her breast.
"Tell me!” he demanded, his voice low and silky, as he pinched her nipple.
"More,” she moaned, arching into him.
"I can make this hurt,” he muttered, his voice no longer seductive.
"I believe you,” she cried out, arching against him. “Would you believe I'm the maid?"
"No."
"Smart man,” she said with a sigh. The fact he didn't believe her was the least of her troubles as her traitorous body throbbed under his hard one. His body heat transferred to her bare skin, making her tremble as he warmed her. It had to be whatever he'd shot her up with, loosening her morals, because she wanted very much to fuck him.
* * * *
Ace felt everything inside him go still when his sexy prisoner gazed at him, her big violet eyes burning with desire. Shit, his cock stirred in reaction against her creamy body, the scent of her arousal driving him crazy, even as his heart softened toward her. It was only the drugs making her want him, he told himself to get his stupid cock in check. In real life, he wouldn't stand a chance with her, not that he'd want to. He didn't mix business and pleasure. Besides, she was good at playing the innocent, but the electronics he'd found stashed in her underwear told another tale. She had some high tech computer gadgets he didn't completely recognize, and was probably a spy, even if she wasn't well trained. Still he couldn't help himself from gazing down at her with need. Her eyes were as purple as the flowers in his Austin ranch's paddock, making him think of home, reminding him of his decision to get the hell out of the spook business while he could. He wished to hell he was home and had met her in a conventional way.
His body reacted as she rubbed against him; his throbbing dumb handle nestled between her creamy thighs. He didn't take it personally, the knockout drug he'd used had an unfortunate side affect. The chemicals took away one's inhibitions and increased desire. That had to be why she was catching fire for him, he was too hard-bitten to inspire such a response from a beauty like her without the help of erotic drugs.
The label inside her maid's uniform was the same as the other embassy janitorial personnel, so she had connections. He met her amused gaze, feeling off balance, even though he supposedly was in the dominant position. His jaw tightened as his cock twitched. “Down boy,” he muttered to himself. “Who are you?” he demanded again.
"Funny, I know I should try to kick your macho ass, stud, but for some insane reason I'd rather kiss you."
Ace heard the annoyance in her voice, saw the come-hither look in her eye, and knew the time had come to press his luck. “It's a side effect of the drug. Don't worry, it'll soon pass and yo
u'll hate my guts.” His fingertips finessed her stiff nipples through her bra, making her moan and his fingers shake. She shamelessly thrust her tits out at him. He was happy to oblige, tweaking them, making her sigh languidly as his cock throbbed against her. “Give me your name, sweetheart."
"No,” she said, gasping, shaking her head.
Ace bit back a growl, as his erection grew harder against her velvety cunt. She wiggled against him, getting off. “You can trust me,” he said, pressing his cock against her mound, torturing himself. She thrust up at him, tightening. He ground against her and watched a blush cover her body as her head tipped back and she cried out.
"Tell me."
"Melanie Cordova,” she blurted loudly, trembling.
"Come for me, Melanie baby,” he coaxed grinding against her, savoring her name, it fit her—soft and sensual. All he could think about was taking her, even though he knew he had a job to do. Under him, she cried out and shuddered, spasms of orgasm wracking her sexy body as she whimpered under him. He felt the vibrations all the way to his cock and fought to hold onto his self-control. He went still atop her, his body stiff as a board, his manhood aching, as he looked into the smoky depths of her lavender eyes. She looked shocked, her cheeks flushed, as if she wasn't used to coming, making him feel very territorial. She was blushing. It told him she was new and inexperienced, and touched him more than he cared to admit. He drew in a ragged breath. “Don't say it. I'm not your type, right?"
He watched her scowl at his snarky comment and was careful to hide his smile, even though it was impossible to hide his hard-on. Still, it didn't mean he had to take her. He eased away from her before he gave in to the urge to fuck her. “Don't worry; I don't take unwilling women, even if they get their jollies by dry humping me."
She let out a yawn and he knew he was losing her to the drug again. He watched her slump back against the pillows as her eyes drifted shut, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Damn, he didn't want to care for her. A heartbeat later, he forced himself to pull away and roll out of bed, amazed that he hadn't come in his pants. He smiled when she snored lightly. She was going into a normal REM sleep and it would give him the time he needed. Ace ignored his cell phone when it vibrated on his hip again. His handler had been calling every fifteen minutes, but he wasn't ready to answer yet. He flipped it off, pulled open a nightstand drawer, and tossed it in, slamming the drawer shut. Out of sight out, out of mind, he hoped. He needed quiet time to think.
He stalked into the safe house's kitchenette to make coffee; she was going to need it ... buckets of it. When she woke up, he had to get some real answers from Miss Melanie and figure out which one of them was marked for death.
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Chapter 3
The savory aroma of coffee roused Melanie from her slumber. She sleepily opened her eyes and glanced around the shack, appalled as the scandalous events of the evening replayed across her mind. A sexy ghost had captured her, and he'd made her come before he'd made her talk ... or at least give him her name. Shit, some field agent she'd turned out to be. Maybe Aunt Agnes was right, she didn't have the moral fiber to make it in this business.
Memories of his demanding touch still made her toes curl. Her face and body heated, and her nipples hardened to stiff tingling peaks as the spot between her legs pulsed. She stared out the window into what seemed like pitch-dark jungle, fighting off her body's inappropriate lust. Whatever he'd given her was wearing off now, so she should be able to control herself, she decided firmly. It hadn't been an erotic dream and she had to deal with it ... with him. She'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book—swept away by her captor's seductiveness.
But no more she decided, stretching as she tried to clear her head. She cast a wary look around the bedroom seeing he wasn't there. Had he run out on her? Her heart thudded at the possibility. It wasn't that she didn't want him to leave. It was just that she didn't want to be stranded in the middle of the jungle in her scanties.
The sound of a sink running alerted her to his presence in the next room and she relaxed. He hadn't left her after all. Melanie couldn't help the foolish surge of satisfaction that washed through her at the realization. She rolled her eyes at her ludicrous feelings of relief. He was a kidnapper, not some romantic hero; she had to remember that.
She managed to push back the covers and sit up in bed; her head swimming with the effort those small moves took. The covers fell away and she shivered in the breeze, glancing down at her semi-nudity, reminding her that he'd stripped her before he ... what ... made her come? Her too big, and now pathetically sensitized boobs were tumbling out of her plain white bra, and she was wearing granny panties, how humiliating. Not the way she wanted to conduct a seduction, but this wasn't that, she had to remind herself. She was a victim, not that you could prove it by her eager sexual response to her captor. She'd practically ravished him. A blush heated her from her face to her toes at the memory. It had to have been the drugs making her insatiable, because she knew she was non-orgasmic with men. A fumble in the backseat of Jerry's car had taught her that when she was eighteen. There was no way she could stick around for round two with silver eyes.
She tried to slip out of bed, and grumbled when her still half asleep body wouldn't cooperate. Great! How could she escape when she couldn't even walk? She sank back against the headboard exhausted; knowing there was no way she could get up and run, even if she wanted to. She'd have to be smart to get out of this. Sweeping a glance around the tumbledown shack, she took in her seedy surroundings, looking for a weapon. The rickety chairs, threadbare rug, lumpy bed, were all that met her eyes. That and the old nightstand with a drawer not quite shut. The bare bulb overhead cast a harsh light over everything and glinted light off a small rectangular, metallic object in the drawer. A cell phone ... could she really be that lucky?
Her heart leapt at the possibility; if it was a cell phone, she was so saved. All she had to do was call Jeb give him the code word for distress, “Exit,” and he'd come to get her. Biting back a groan as she forced her resistant body to move again, she managed to roll to the edge of the bed and dangle her hand over the side. She slipped her hand into the drawer, feeling a sense of renewed power when her fingers closed around cool metal. It was a phone. She wanted to shout out her small victory; instead, she quietly pulled out the phone. By sheer effort, she punched in Jeb's number with a shaky finger.
Holding her breath, she waited interminable rings for Jeb to answer. “Come on, pick up, pick up you jerk,” she muttered under her breath. The clink of dishes in the other room told her captor was busy for now. She winced at the audible click a moment later.
"What is it?” Jeb snapped.
Melanie swallowed a groan when his belligerent voice came out at her, sure that it carried. But there was no cry from her captor, so maybe not. Breathing a sigh of relief, she realized Jeb sounded funny, out of breath and distracted, even for him. Was he drunk? She wouldn't put it past him. “Exit,” she whispered into the phone, not wanting to alert silver eyes that she was calling for help.
"Speak up, will you, Melons! I can't hear you over the band."
Her jaw snapped shut at his teasing code name for her, an obvious slur at her full breasts. He knew she felt self-conscious at what her Aunt Agnes called her pleasingly plump body, and he loved to take jabs at her, the immature jerk. No shit, comb-over. She could hear the orchestra playing in the background of the call, but what stood out was Jeb's heavy breathing. He was winded, as if he'd been running a marathon. What the hell? Then a female giggle right near the mouthpiece of his phone told her he wasn't alone. Outrage made her suck in a breath. It was either that, or tell the rat bastard exactly what she thought of him. The jerk was screwing some woman when he was supposed to be running their mission. “Exit,” she said as outrage grew inside her. “In case you've forgotten, it means I need help."
"Yeah, yeah, as green as you are I don't doubt it. Relax. I'll come upstairs and help you out as soon as I'm done
.” He let out a chuckle. “I'm kind of busy right now."
"Si, Patron,” a female voice cut in, “You are very busy with me, but your Consuela's mouth will make it all better."
Melanie's jaw dropped even as she fought to hold her temper together. Perfect! Jeb was getting a blowjob while she was held captive by a seductive wizard. Gritting her teeth she bit out, “I'm not upstairs, you moron! I've been kidnapped."
"The hell you say!” He let out a roar and then yelped. “Easy, Consuela."
Melanie smiled. She hoped the woman had bit him where it hurt.
"Where the fuck are you, Melons?” Jeb shouted into the phone.
"Keep you voice down, you idiot,” she snapped at the end of her patience, adding in a hushed tone, “I don't know where I am. I woke up in a shack somewhere inside the jungle, near as I can tell."
"Of all the incompetent bitches ... I should never have accepted your ass on my team. Well, now that you're awake get out of there, come in, and report ... that's an order."
She refrained from saying that he hadn't any choice to take her on his team, seeing as how he couldn't cut it technically. She resented the insinuation that she was incompetent, although she had been caught. “I can't come in, you fool. I've been drugged and I can hardly move off this bed..."
"Bed?” he asked slowly.
She froze at his insinuating tone, the way he said the word grating on her nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Yes, bed. I was knocked out and..."
"If you're fucking around instead of working, Melons, I'll..."
"You're the one who's screwing around on duty, Patron.” He went completely silent on the other end. Telling her supposed rescuer that she knew about his indiscretions wasn't smart. She drew in a breath, trying for a calm tone. “Jeb, do you hear me, damn it? Come and extract me.” She listened to dead air and quietly freaked out. He wouldn't leave her stranded, would he? Of course he would, it was just like the passive aggressive loser. But he still had to report to his lead, Randal Cutler. Something like this, he couldn't sweep under the rug.