by Madison Faye
His lips hold mine fast, our breaths mingling, hearts racing together until slowly, we come back down to earth. And then it’s just him and me, locked in each other’s arms as the moon glows across our skin.
* * *
We’re back in bed. My eyes are closed, and I think I’m asleep when I hear the sound. I frown, sleep dropping from me as the gears in my brain start to turn.
“Cor—”
“Shh, baby girl,” he says, already awake, his voice gruff. He tenses next to me, one arm wrapping around me protectively, the other reaching for something on the side table. A gun.
“What is it?” I whisper, fear creeping over me. Something’s not right.
“Nina.” He turns, his eyes searching mine. “Remember what I told you. That I’ll always be there to protect you. That I’ll always love you.”
The cold fear starts to claw at my throat.
“Wait, what are you talking—”
“Whatever happens, know that I will always find you. I will always—”
The door to the cabin explodes in, and I scream at the rush of bright lights, and men in black tactical gear with guns raised.
“Cormac!”
He roars, lunging from the bed with his gun raised, but there are too many of them. I scream as four of them tackle him to the floor, shoving him down and wrenching the gun from his hands.
“Wait! No!”
“Ma’am!” A man in a blue jacket with ‘FBI’ in bright yellow letters strides through the door, badge out and gun trained on Cormac as he approaches me. I yank the covers up around me, fear clutching at my throat.
“What the hell are you—”
“I’m Deputy Chief Urlech, Miss Case, and we’re the FBI,” the man interrupts, glaring at me curiously and then at Cormac.
“He’s FBI! He’s here to protect—”
“No, Miss Case.” Deputy Chief Urlech shakes his head. “No, he’s not.”
“Wait, yes, he is! He brought me here to protect me from—”
“He brought you here because he’s a psychopath with delusions of missions he doesn’t have,” he hisses. The world freezes around me.
“What?” The word is quiet on my lips.
“Don’t you listen to them, Nina! He’s part of it! He works for—” Cormac bellows from the floor before one of the men sinks a fist into his side, making him roar.
“Miss Case,” the deputy chief sighs, holstering his gun and rubbing his temples. “Cormac Alderson is not with the FBI. He’s a rogue agent with his own agenda—”
“Goddamnit, Nina! You know who I am! You know what he’s saying is—” Cormac bellows as the men cuff his hands behind his back, one of them kicking him in the side, making me scream.
“He-he brought me here to protect me! He saved me from—”
“He brought you here to do what he wanted with you,” Deputy Chief Urlech spits, his eyes narrowing. “Get him the fuck out of here.”
“Nina!” The men start to drag Cormac away, and I lunge after him, the blankets wrapped around me. But there are more men with guns who hold me back, heedless of my screaming and my thrashing.
“Wait! You can’t just—”
“Did Mr. Alderson give you anything?”
I blink. “What?”
“Did he give you anything,” the FBI chief hisses, making me shiver in fear as he glares at me, like I’m also accused. And maybe that’s the reason I lie.
“No.”
He studies me for a second before he nods. “We need you to get dressed and come with us, now.”
“Where are you taking him?”
“Prison.”
I swallow, shaking my head. “But he saved—”
“He kidnapped you, he took you here, and from the looks of things, he had some fun along the way,” Urlech sneers at me, and my skin crawls. “But I can promise you, he’s not who he says he is. Get her out of here.”
Two female agents stride over and wrap the sheets around me before they grab me by the arms and lead me outside. Cormac is roaring as they throw him into the back of a SWAT van that drives away, and my heart is bleeding all over the ground as they push me into the back of a cop car.
But I love him…
I keep saying it over and over as the car barrels into the night, away from the cozy cabin I shared with the man I love, and into the unknown.
Chapter Nine
Cormac
Rage burns inside of me like a fire. It’s been five days. Five days since those assholes pulled me away from her. Since then, they’ve tried everything to break me, to get me to sign things that would incriminate me and let them off the hook. Torture, sleep deprivation, beatings. All of it.
And I didn’t give a damn about any of it.
Yeah, I’m tough, and I’ve had worse than anything that pussy Urlech can throw at me. But it’s more than that. What’s kept me going the last few days isn’t just that I’m tougher, it’s that I have a reason to withstand.
Nina.
Because if I broke, what would happen to her? She’s between a rock and a hard place, and I don’t even know if she knows it. Because Sylvan Bucks is still out there looking for her, and now she’s got Urlech too. Fuck, for all I know, she still thinks he’s the good guy. But I know better. And I know if I fall, she’s next. If they break me, they’ll go after her until they’re satisfied that their own traitorous asses are covered.
This goes deeper than Nina having just seen a gangland hit, even if she doesn’t know that. Because what she saw is worse. Urlech, my handler with FBI, has been dirty for years. I was wise to it for a long time, but it’s only in the last few weeks that I got hard evidence together. He and Sylvan have been in cahoots with each other—Urlech helping Sylvan move seized weapons and Sylvan helping Urlech stay in charge of things by taking out anyone who got close.
“Let’s move.”
The guard yanks me to my feet, and I bite back the snarl that catches in my throat. The only reason I haven’t fought my way out of this whole thing is her. Because what’s about to happen needs to happen, to show the world and to show her what’s really going on. In another version of this, I might be worried—about what she thinks of me now, or about what they’ve told her.
But then, I know her, and she knows me. No, I’m not worried. Because I know she’s stronger than their bullshit, and I know what’s happened between us is thicker than anything they can throw at either of us.
The doors open, and I blink at the light, since they’ve kept me in the dark like an animal for the last five days. I step into the courtroom, a murmur goes around the room, and then suddenly, there she is.
My angel.
My heart.
Nina lunges to her feet as I walk in, even if the guy who I’m assuming is her lawyer is trying to get her to sit back down. It makes me grin, and when our eyes lock, I know this is going to be okay. They think they’ve got me cornered.
I could almost laugh.
They do, but they should know that a corner is the last fucking place a beast like me should be kept.
I keep my eyes on her, and hers are locked on me as the whole circus gets going. I only half hear the bullshit being tossed around, that I kidnapped her. That I forced myself on her. That I’m some rogue criminal doing as I please pretending to be with the FBI. And of course, it looks bad if you don’t know what’s really going on. After all, Urlech was my handler, and my only contact at the bureau, seeing as I’m a contractor. So, unless you know he’s dirty, like I do, it sure as fuck looks like I’m the psychopath he’s up on the stand saying I am.
I look right at Nina though, and none of it matters. She knows what’s real. She knows what we had up there on the mountain in that cabin was real. And she knows what’s right, and what’s true.
My guard nudges me, and I blink as I turn back to the circus. The prosecution and Urlech are over there smirking at me like it’s game over. Me, I’ve decided against a lawyer. I don’t need one, not for the bomb I’m about to drop on th
is whole crooked situation. They’re all looking at me like I’m nuts, and if it doesn’t look like I’m worried, well, it’s because I’m not.
Time to set the whole thing on fire.
“Your Honor.”
I stand, and another murmur rattles through the room. The judge turns to me, scowling at the interruption.
“Sit down, Mr. Alderson.”
“I have new evidence for the court.”
The judge purses her lips, glaring at me. “Concerning the case against you?”
I smile. “No, Your Honor. Concerning the case against Deputy Chief Urlech.”
The murmur turns to flat out chaos throughout the courtroom, and the judge bangs her gavel for order.
“Mr. Alderson, I have no time for games.”
“Neither do I,” I growl. I turn to Nina, and I nod.
You’ll know when, I mouth to her. She frowns in confusion, when suddenly, I see the light go on in her eyes. Her hand slips to the pendant around her neck. She stands, and her lawyers are hissing at her and telling her to sit, but she ignores them as she turns to the judge.
“It’s this, Your Honor.”
I watch as Urlech’s eyes go wide, his face turning red. He staggers to his feet, sputtering about obstruction and me playing games, but the judge hushes him as the bailiff brings the necklace to the bench.
“This is a USB drive?”
I nod, and the judge’s eyes narrow as she calls for a laptop. I turn to Urlech and smile as the video plays, projecting for the court.
Game. Fucking. Over.
It’s all there. The damning piece of evidence I found right before I went to get Nina that night at the club. The surveillance camera I’d set up caught it all. On the video, there’s Urlech walking into a room with Sylvan Bucks. There’s money exchanged, names given, and I know each of them are currently ongoing open murder cases. Sylvan and Urlech shake hands, and the camera feed cuts.
There’s silence in the room for half a second before suddenly, Urlech lurches to his feet and makes a run for the door. He makes it two steps before he’s brought down. Yeah, there’s chaos all over, but it’s going right over my head. Because all I’m doing is grinning as I look over it all, right at the girl I love.
“This case is dismissed. Mr. Alderson, the U.S. Government and the FBI owe you a debt.”
I turn to the judge, who nods formally at me.
“You’re free to go.”
The words are barely hitting me when I’m lunging over the banister and rushing across the room. I catch Nina in my arms, whirling her around as she shrieks in joy and throws her arms around me. Our lips crush together, and I kiss her with everything I have. Cameras snap, reporters jostle for a quote, but none of that matters.
None of it even registers to either of us. Because we have each other, and that’s all that matters.
“Can we get out of here?” she whispers in my ear.
“Absolutely,” I growl, kissing her. “Though, you should know, I’m the recent defendant in a felony kidnapping case.”
Nina giggles, kissing me right back.
“Can you kidnap the willing?”
“Shall we find out?”
“Yes, please,” she murmurs as I pull her close.
“I know a cabin where we can get away for a while.”
“How about a long while.”
“Well, that all depends,” I purr into her ear.
“On?”
“On if you think you can be a good girl when we get there.”
Nina gasps quietly, her hands tightening on me as she pulls close. Her lips brush my ear, and the words make my cock throb against her.
“I think I can,” she whispers. “I think I can be a very good girl, Daddy.”
The End
Author’s Note
This story is a “side-story” in my Blackthorn Mountain Men series of standalones. If rough, wild, alpha af caveman heroes are your cup of tea, well, I think you might love the rest of the series.
About Madison Faye
#1 bestselling contemporary romance author Madison Faye is the dirty alter ego of the very wholesome, very normal suburban housewife behind the stories. While she might be a wife, mom, and PTA organizer on the outside, there’s nothing but hot, steamy, and raunchy fantasies brewing right beneath the surface!
Tired of keeping them hidden inside or only having them come out in the bedroom, they’re all here in the form of some wickedly hot stories. Single-minded alpha heroes, sinfully taboo relationships, and wildly over-the-top scenarios. If you love it extra dirty, extra hot, and extra naughty, this is the place for you!
(Just don’t tell the other PTA members you saw her here…)
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Professor Daddy by Jane Henry
Chapter One
Giada
I glance at my calendar one final time.
Creative Writing Exploration. Professor Geoffrey Slade. Room 721, Dove building.
I inhale deeply, square my shoulders, and sling my bag onto my back. I’m making a major concession coming to school in the summer, the time of beach parties and sunbathing and cruises, but I made my father a promise, and here I am. I purse my lips and open my bag, removing my sunglasses and sliding them on. The sun beats down hot and merciless, and I’m momentarily thankful I chose my tiniest sundress, a handmade beauty I picked up in Rome over Easter break, hunter green with spaghetti straps, a low vee in the front, hitting mid-thigh with delicate edged lace. I smile to myself. The nuns at Saint Augustine’s would have a conniption if they could see me now. But hey, I guess local community colleges have their benefits, and casual dress to class is one of them.
This is my third class I’ve taken here, each class lasting exactly five days with intense take-home assignments. There are a few things I’ve learned: all the professors are old and stodgy, no hot football players take summer classes on campus, and the chai latte and scones in the café are surprisingly delicious. I’ll reward myself with one today, after I meet Professor Stodgy number three, toss some words on a page to pass the class, and if I time things right I can be back at the pool at my apartment building by lunchtime.
My heels click-clack on the linoleum as I make my way to class, deep in thought when I glance at the room number: 721. This is it. I look at the time on my phone, notice I have a text, and quickly shoot off a reply. Eh, I’m fashionably late. I can hear a low buzz of conversation on the other side of the door, and suspect I’ve found the right place. Reaching for the handle of the classroom, I turn it and frown. It’s… stuck or something. I try again, but it doesn’t budge. What the hell? I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I lift my hand and knock sharply on the door.
The noise on the other side of the door stops, and my belly dips as a shadow approaches on the other side, big and hulking through the frosted glass. I swallow at the sound of a click, then watch as the door swings open. My mouth drops, gaping at the man standing on the other side.
He’s… not old. And most definitely not stodgy.
A man dressed in a pale green polo shirt that does little to hide his broad shoulders and large, muscled arms, stands in front of me. Tall and strong, with a shaved head and thick dark beard edged in silver, he glares at me sternly from beneath furrowed brows, his green eyes glinting like jade. He’s looking at me as if he just caught me shoplifting, and I feel about four feet tall. Strength and power emanate from him, and I suddenly realize I’m staring with my mouth still hanging open. I snap it shut and blink in surprise.
His brows raise impatiently. “Yes? Is there a reason you’re disturbing my class?” His voice is a deep baritone I feel
right down the back of my neck, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
I clear my throat. “I’m… looking for Creative Writing Exploration with… Professor Slade?” My voice sounds oddly strained and high-pitched. I clear my throat nervously.
He nods, and I’m shocked to find his stern eyes doing a quick once-over so blatantly intimate and sexual it’s as if his hands rove over my body. He lingers on the cleavage at my chest, then snaps his eyes back to mine, narrowed now as if he’s blaming me for his momentary loss of control.
Asshole.
“I’m Professor Slade. And you are?”
“Giada Romano,” I say in one breath.
His eyes narrow. “I don’t allow latecomers to my class, Ms. Romano, and I lock the door when class begins.” There’s silence in the class behind him.
God.
He takes a step toward me, his voice softer so that only I can hear him. “You may enter for today,” he says. “But bear in mind future tardiness will result in consequences.” My stomach clenches in response.
I have to walk right past him to enter, so it’s time to get my shit together. I quickly walk in the classroom, ignoring how damn good he smells, like whiskey and leather and smoke, and slink into the nearest seat, not looking at my classmates. He shuts the door with a bang, then walks to the front of the room.
He’s the professor? Holy crap. I fumble in my bag and retrieve a notebook and pen, then sit stock-straight in my chair, eyes focused on my new professor. He’s saying something about grades and papers and the proper use of citation, but I’m not hearing a damn thing he says. I’m too focused on the way his mouth moves, the way his biceps bulge when he sits back at his desk and crosses his tanned, corded forearms. I swallow, my body aflame.