by Jasmin Quinn
“Behave Kelsie,” Dean said gruffly as she tried to pull her hands out of his, to touch him, to guide him back to her clit. “Keep your hands still or I’ll stop.”
Kelsie willed herself still, not wanting him to follow through on his threat. He moved down with his lips to her breasts, taking each in turn with his mouth, sucking them, gently biting the nipples. Kelsie groaned as he moved lower, letting go of her hands. “Knees up, Kelsie. Open yourself to me.”
Dean dropped off the bed, onto his knees, as Kelsie opened her legs to him. He grabbed her waist with his hands and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, drawing one of her legs up and placing her foot on his shoulder, the other he forced down on the bed, stretching her widely, holding her with his strong hands. Kelsie felt her inhibitions give way to hunger as Dean blew on her clit, then circled it with his tongue, and stroked it with stubble from his chin. She cried out as sensations of desire pulsed through her. He dropped his tongue and his lips lower, exploring her vulva. “Oh God,” Kelsie moaned, lifting her head and shoulders up to meet Dean’s eyes. “Please Dean,” she begged as he watched her, drawing his lips to the inside of her thigh, tasting it with his tongue, nipping it.
She heard him laugh wickedly as he dropped his head again, bringing his tongue back to her clit, stroking it, teasing it. He brought a finger up to her vagina and slid it into her wet willing pussy, moving it and out, as she bucked against him, moaning her pleasure. Dean slid a second finger into her, filling her, then in and out, meeting her thrust for thrust. His tongue stroking her clit, harder and harder as she thrashed under him, feeling herself climbing higher and higher.
“Oh my God,” she gasped as she brought her hands to his head, grabbing at his hair, wrapping her legs around his shoulders and holding him to her. Then she arched her back and froze for a second as her orgasm thundered through her, wave after wave of pleasure crashing on her until she peaked, and then Dean again, coaxing her aftershocks, watching her spasm.
Kelsie lay limply, like a rag doll as Dean pulled her back up onto the bed and lay down next to her, she on her back, still breathing heavily, him on his side, watching her as she regained her awareness. She felt his hard cock against her thigh as he leaned into her and kissed her, hard on the lips, exploring her mouth, letting her taste herself and him. She wanted him in her then, his cock deep inside and so she dropped her hand to it, and wrapped her fingers around the shaft.
“I’m not done yet,” she breathed, feeling the passion ignite again. Dean laughed as he dropped on top of her, forcing her legs wide and entering her fast and hard.
“Neither am I.”
Chapter Eighteen
Kelsie showered again, refusing to let Dean join her. “The bathroom is disgusting,” she told him. “I’m not letting you press me up against that tile.”
“I don’t think I’d have the energy,” Dean told her, watching her luscious curves as she walked away. He felt a little tug at his groin and shook his head in disbelief, laughing out loud. While she showered, Dean got dressed and slipped out for coffee. He had a few moments of trepidation, feeling the urgency as he went through the drive-through, a little panic, a little mistrust.
But she was there when he got back, dressed in designer jeans and a light grey, long-sleeved cashmere sweater. She had pulled her hair back into a pony tail, looking fresh and youthful. He didn’t realize how tightly wound up he was until he opened the door and saw her sitting there on the loveseat, with her laptop in front of her on the coffee table.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he kicked the coffee table over with his foot. The laptop crashed to the floor along with the bourbon, the empty wine bottle (again!) and their drinking glasses.
Kelsie looked shocked. “I’m starting to understand why you don’t have many long-term relationships,” she said dryly. “We don’t even have wi-fi, you asshole. So, whatever I was doing was pretty harmless.”
Dean set the coffee cups on the night table and walked over to Kelsie who was righting the table and picking up her laptop. He pulled her to her feet and into his embrace. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he said. Kelsie realized that was his way of saying sorry and hugged him back. “There’s something about you Kelsie. I don’t know.” He sounded tortured.
Kelsie leaned back and looked up into his face. “There’s something about you too, Dean.”
He released her then, reached down and picked up the empty wine bottle and glasses. “Nothing broken.” He muttered as he walked over to the kitchenette and dropped them in the sink. Kelsie was reseated on the loveseat coffee cup in hand, Dean’s coffee on the coffee table. She took a sip, made an appreciative sound and then shifted her body as she felt soreness from their earlier activities.
Dean sat down beside her, picked up his coffee and took a long swallow. It’s almost noon,” he noted and took a teasing side-long glance at Kelsie. “You’re distracting me.”
Kelsie flushed under his gaze, wondering how the hell she could feel any shyness after what just happened. But there it was. Kelsie looked down at her fake wedding band then over at his bare hand. She felt a moment of hurt that he would take his ring off and kicked herself mentally. After all, none of this was real – not even the lovemaking. They were in a very intense situation, both very vulnerable. When this was over, when they were safe, they’d go their own ways – he back to his spy games, and she back to the judge.
This saddened her. Dean was not like any man she’d ever met. He knew what he wanted and he didn’t hesitate to take it, which, well, actually made him like most men she knew. But what made him unique in her world was that what he wanted was for her to have what she wanted. And he enjoyed it, it turned him on. It wasn’t just that she knew she was safe with him, which was also an oddly unique feeling for her, but that she mattered to him for no other reason than she did. She was not a means to an end.
Kelsie and Dean sat for a few minutes, sipping their coffee and thinking their own thoughts.
“Maybe my boss can help us,” Kelsie suggested, breaking the silence.
Dean grunted. “That crossed my mind. But here’s the thing about judges and other government officials, Kelsie. They can be bought.”
Kelsie shook her head. “Not Malcolm.”
“Kelsie, there’s a long history of mafia being deep in the pockets of politicians and law enforcement. It’s too big a risk to take with someone that far up the chain.” Dean took another sip of his coffee.
“I think you can trust my judgement on this, Dean. I trust him.”
“Kelsie, this is a man who bought you a very expensive bottle of bourbon, something you don’t even drink, for a Christmas present. And you completely missed the implication behind it.”
Kelsie looked down at her coffee, then shifted around on the loveseat, putting her feet on the coffee table and crossing her legs. “I think you’re wrong about the Malcolm,” she said softly, not meeting his gaze.
“I’m not wrong,” Dean retorted flatly. He put his feet on the coffee table too, one knee bent, shoe resting on the edge. They both stared straight ahead, sipping coffee, thinking. “Here are the options,” Dean said finally. “We could talk to your father, it sounds like he might have some influence.”
“That’s not an option,” Kelsie protested.
“Let me finish,” Dean growled. “We talk to your father, see who he trusts – “
“We are not going to my father. I would rather talk to the judge than talk to my dad.”
“Well, we’re not going to the judge,” Dean said adamantly.
“Well then, plan A and plan B are out. What’s plan C?”
Dean sighed as he drained his coffee cup and then launched it at the waste basket. He missed. “All the other options are risky. And self-serving for me.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means,” Dean said as he shifted around and looked at Kelsie, “they put you in danger and I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.”
Kelsie moved
to face him, drawing herself up on her knees so she could look into his eyes. “I’m not afraid of being hurt. Whatever happens next, I have your back. I promise.”
Dean heard the sincerity in her voice, the earnestness. “This is not a game, Kelsie. You could get seriously fucked up.”
“I know it’s not a game.” Kelsie felt patronized. “I’ve washed too much blood off both of us to underestimate the danger.”
“Right,” Dean nodded briefly. “You’re right.” He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek, then pulled her to him, cradling her in his arms, her head on his shoulder. “Okay. Here’s what I think. We could go on the run, over the border, into the states. Lay low for a while, figure a few things out. But you’d have to quit your job, which would be out of character for you – your dad and the judge would be breathing down your neck.”
“True,” Kelsie nodded.
“I have no ID so I’d have to get some. And it’s a dumb idea anyway. It just makes you a little safer in the short-term, but not the long-term. We could end up running for the rest of our lives.”
Kelsie thought that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. But she didn’t voice it. Instead, “Okay. What else have you got?”
“Ok, here’s the two realistic options. I could walk into VPD and give up; let them know my cover is blown – my assignment would be over.” This was a fabrication; he had no connection to the Vancouver Police Department. But he couldn’t tell Kelsie the truth about who he really was. His organization was not understanding of operatives confiding in outsiders. It tended to have fatal consequences. “I’d be no good to the gang unit anymore, so my organization would recall me. I’d be a marked man so that would be it. I’d have to disappear.”
“I see.” Kelsie did see – he would disappear from her too.
“Here’s my issue with that. My months of undercover work will be fucked, that son-of-a-bitch Savisin gets away again. I want him dead – without him, the Russians would be so busy fighting over which idiot will take over, they’ll be vulnerable.”
“I see,” Kelsie said again.
Dean looked over at her impassive face. “And it might put you in danger. And I would never get to see your hot body again. And that would make me very sad.”
Kelsie smiled at him, knowing how transparent she was. But also not caring. “So we have to get those Russians then.”
Dean nodded. “I think I need to meet with my handler. I don’t know if he’s the guy that gave me up. I have to find out. But I can’t go unarmed. I have a gun and some cash stashed away in an apartment in Surrey. But I’m betting it’s being watched. I go anywhere near my place, I’ll be gunned down. I have to think of a way in without being seen – maybe a disguise.”
Kelsie studied him – too tall and broad to hide behind a disguise. “They’re going to know it’s you, even in disguise.” She hesitated, then said, “I could go in.”
“No,” Dean said flatly.
Kelsie sat back up so she could see his face, so he could see her determination. “Yes. No one knows we’re together. It’s an apartment, so I’ll just look like one of the tenants. I’ll go in and get what you need.”
“How? The doors locked.”
“How were you going to get in?” Kelsie challenged him.
“Pick the lock.”
“So that’s what I’ll do then.”
Dean snorted. “How many locks have you picked in your life?”
“None,” Kelsie retorted. “Today seems like a good day to learn.”
Dean shook his head and sighed. “First, I don’t like this plan. Second, it’s not that easy to pick a lock.”
Kelsie ignored him. “I think it’s a good plan. You’ll teach me how to pick a lock today. We can go to your apartment tonight, I’ll go in and get what we need. Then you can set up a meeting with your VPD handler, go meet him…” she stopped. “How will you know if he’s the one that gave you up to the Russians?”
“Because he won’t be alone. Don’t worry. I know how to manage that part. If he’s turned, I’ll know before I put myself in the line of fire.”
“Okay.” Kelsie didn’t press him as she saw the stubborn set to his jaw. “Then what?”
“Then I know who to trust. I have enough evidence, so if my handler is the fucker, I can go over his head. If he isn’t, he’ll know who to trust. Either way, we take down the Russians.”
“And me?” Kelsie had to ask.
“You’ll stay here ‘til I come back for you. No matter how it goes down, I’ll be back after I meet with my handler.”
Chapter Nineteen
It was almost 11 pm and Dean and Kelsie were parked down the street from his apartment building. The part of town they were in was in an older section of Surrey, rundown and neglected. The apartment building Dean lived in had the same air of indifference as every other building in the surrounding area. There were six floors, no balconies, many of the windows still lit. Kelsie could hear heavy metal music and raucous laughter floating down the street. Not sure if it was coming from Dean’s building, but it was coming from somewhere. Dean and Kelsie sat in silence, waiting for the right moment, in Dean’s words.
“When’s the right moment?” Kelsie asked.
“When I say,” Dean responded tersely.
That exchange underscored most of the day. That morning, after they discussed a few more details of their plan, they went back to the Richmond mall they’d shopped at the day before. They lunched on sandwiches, and then Dean took Kelsie back to the Bay where they bought bobby pins and a black knitted toque.
After that they went to a thrift stone.
“What do we need here?” Kelsie asked looking around her in dismay.
“A new outfit for you. You dress like you’re a fucking Disney princess.”
Kelsie looked down at herself, offended. “How do you know what a Disney princess looks like?”
Dean didn’t respond, his mood darkening with each passing moment. Instead he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the women’s section. He started pulling clothing off the racks and shoving them into Kelsie’s arms. A pair of jeans, a couple of sleeveless tops, a faded black leather jacket. Then he led her over to the shoe section. “What size?” he barked.
“8,” Kelsie replied quickly.
He sorted through the boots and chose a pair that seemed to meet whatever criteria he had. Then he stomped off toward the check-out, Kelsie trailing behind him with her arms full of clothes. He spoke in monosyllables to the cashier, paid in cash and practically dragged Kelsie out of the store.
Once back at the motel room, Dean told Kelsie to call the judge, telling her exactly what to say. She dialled his office, preparing to leave a message, but to her surprise, the judge picked up. “Oh, hi Malcolm,” Kelsie said, thrown off-balance. Dean, who had been sorting through the thrift store clothes, looked up sharply. He dropped the faded black T-shirt he was holding and strode over to the phone, hovering over her, listening in. He glared into Kelsie’s eyes – she could see a flash of anger and a trace of something else – jealousy maybe?
“Kelsie!” the judge replied cheerfully. “What’s going on?”
“Uh, I wasn’t expecting you to be in today,” she responded.
“Me neither, but I have to finalize a warrant.”
“For what?” Kelsie’s curiosity got the better of her; Dean scowled at her.
“A search and seizure. That’s all I’m going to say over the phone.”
Kelsie understood. “You don’t usually do warrants…” She let the words trail as Dean gripped her arm and squeezed roughly. She tried unsuccessfully to tug it out of his grip.
“No, this is Lillian’s warrant, but she’s out of town this weekend. So I stepped in – that’s why they pay me the big bucks!” He chuckled at his joke. “Anyway, here I am. Want to come over and help me finish it?”
“I can’t,” Kelsie responded faintly. “That’s why I’m calling. I need a few days off. Personal days.”
Silence hung b
etween them as Malcolm didn’t immediately respond. “Malcolm?”
“I’m here, Kelsie,” he reassured her. “I’m just processing this. You never take time off. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Of course. Everything’s fine.”
“Tell me why,” Malcolm said softly.
Dean shook his head at her. “Uh,” Kelsie hesitated. “I can’t tell you, Malcolm. That’s why they’re called personal days.”
Malcolm went quiet again. Kelsie understood his reaction – it was so out of character for her to take time off and then to challenge him when he asked a question.
“Is it another man?” Malcolm asked.
“No. This isn’t about a man!” She looked up at Dean whose face was suffused with rage. She shook her head at him – she didn’t understand what was upsetting him.
“Kelsie, tell me what’s going on or I’m coming over.”
F-U-C-K! “Malcolm. Stop. Okay, I’ll tell you.” Kelsie had to think quickly; lying didn’t come naturally for her. “I’m… uh… I’m having a small medical procedure done. On Tuesday. It’s nothing major, a little female issue.”
“What hospital?” Malcolm demanded. Dean had dropped her arm and was pacing in front of her like a caged tiger. She was almost afraid to hang up.
“It’s not important. I’ll be in and out in a couple of hours. I’ll just need to rest for a couple of days. I’m fine, really. And I better hang up and let you get back to your warrant.”
“Kelsie… ” Malcolm started.
“Bye judge,” Kelsie tried to sound as normal as possible. “I’ll see you Thursday. If there’s any change in plans, I’ll call you.”
Almost before she hung up, Dean pulled the phone from her hand and flung it down on the bed. Then he grabbed her by her arms, pushed her backwards until she was against the wall. “What the fuck?” he snarled at her, shaking her. “You lied to me.”