Reckless Honor

by Tonya Burrows

  She gasped. “I want all of you.”

  “I can tell. You’re soaking my fingers. I’ll fuck you right here with your ass up in the air and you hanging on to that pretty tub. Hard and fast.” The rhythm of his hips changed, pumping against her backside, fulfilling the promise of his words. “Is that how you want it?”

  She whimpered and thrust her rear toward him. Her mouth had gone dry. It felt like all the moisture in her body had flooded between her legs, readying her channel to accept him. She licked her lips, but her voice still came out a rasp. “Yes. Take me right now. Hard. Just like this.”

  He cursed and the heat of him left her. She heard his zipper, then the thunk of his pants hitting the floor. She glanced over her shoulder. He still wore his white shirt, unbuttoned, but he was naked from the waist down and his impressive length jutted straight out from his body as if reaching for her. He took a condom from his jeans pocket and roughly rolled it on, then he was behind her again, his cock seeking at her entrance. He kicked her feet wider, put a hand on the back of her neck, pushing her head down toward the rising water in the tub, and slammed all the way into her.

  Their joining was violent and perfect. Both pain and pleasure. His other hand was still between her legs, teasing her clit so that every thrust had pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, sizzling out across her nerve endings. Her fingers and toes tingled. Her head filled with white noise as he continued the punishing rhythm, all the while whispering naughty-sounding things in languages she didn’t know.

  That coil inside her snapped taut and sensation flooded her body, so bright and sharp it verged on pain. A primal scream ripped from her throat and bounced around the bathroom’s tile walls, mingling with the erotic slap of their bodies as he hammered into her once, twice more, then he groaned and she felt him convulse inside her.

  Gasping and sweat slicked, Claire collapsed against the tub. With past lovers, she’d rarely climaxed, and when she had it was soft and sweet. Nothing like this.

  He released his grip on the back of her neck. He probably left his fingerprints in her skin there, and the thought of it gave her a heady sense of satisfaction…and anticipation. She’d leave her own marks on him before the night was over.

  Jean-Luc heaved in a breath and pushed himself upright. They both shuddered when he pulled out of her. She missed the heat of him immediately, wanted him back inside her.

  He muttered something in French, and sat down hard on the side of the tub. His hand shook as he removed the condom. “Did I hurt you, ma belle?”

  She laughed because what he’d just done to her body was the furthest possible thing from harm. She reached over to turn off the faucet before it overflowed, then sat down beside him. Steam rose invitingly from the tub. She dragged her hand through the hot water. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

  “Mais, I might have hurt myself.” On a groan, he pushed to his feet and tossed the condom in the trash. When he turned back, his expression softened. “Aw, cher. Vous êtes si belle.”

  You’re so beautiful.

  Suddenly self-conscious, she took her hand from the water and pushed a strand of sweaty hair off her cheek. “I’m a mess.”

  “No. You’re all rosy and sexy. Gorgeous. I already want you again.”

  “Uh-uh.” She held up a hand as he prowled toward her. “Bath first.”

  He scowled at the tub like it had just insulted his mother, then sighed dramatically. “All right. Ten minutes.”

  She slid into the water and let out a happy sigh. The blinding orgasm coupled with the heat of the water had every ounce of tension seeping out of her muscles. She felt weightless, contented, and a bit sleepy. Ten minutes? She thought she might never leave this tub again. She leaned her head back against the rim and closed her eyes. “Mmm, we’ll see about that.”

  “Yes, we will.” She couldn’t see it with her eyes closed, but heard the slow spread of his grin in his voice. “Bet I can make you beg to leave the tub.”

  She opened her eyes. Yes, there was that grin, all mischief and mayhem. She couldn’t help but note his body was recovering fast from the sex. His cock lengthened, hardened, and she felt her nipples tighten, her own body pulsing in anticipation.

  She splashed him. “No bet!”

  “Afraid you’ll lose?”

  “I know I will.”

  He slid into the water behind her and picked up a bar of soap. Rubbed it over her breasts, rasping his thumbs deliberately over her hard nipples. “Let’s see how long you last. I say you’ll be begging for my cock again long before the ten minutes is up.”

  She dropped her head back on his shoulder. “I don’t like to lose.”

  “Competitive, are you? I like that in a woman. Makes things interesting.” His hand moved lazily down her belly, then lower. He slid the bar of soap between her thighs. The slippery sensation made her gasp, and Jean-Luc took the opportunity offered by her open mouth to kiss her deeply. He dropped the soap and used his fingers to—

  “Oh, God.” That thing he did, relentlessly drawing circles around her clit without ever actually touching it, made her crazy.

  His laugh was all wicked pleasure in her ear. “Are you begging yet? Because if you are, I really want to get you into a bed so I can take my time.”

  She whimpered because his teasing fingers just weren’t enough friction.

  “I can’t hear you, ma belle.” He stopped with the maddening circles and pressed his thumb right to the sensitive bud.

  She bucked against his hand. “Oh my God. Yes. Now. We need to get out of the tub now.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He laughed softly and nipped at her earlobe.

  He scooped her up and climbed out of the tub, not bothering with the drain or stopping to dry either of them off.

  As he carried her into the bedroom, she imagined cliff diving must be a similar experience to sex with Jean-Luc. Terrifying, thrilling, a little bit dangerous…

  And so very addicting.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jean-Luc settled her on the big bed and took a moment to just look at her. All of that soft skin, damp and rosy from the hot water of the bath. Her nipples tight peaks begging for his mouth and tongue. Her eyes, hot and seductive, beckoning him to join her on the bed.

  He leaned down on one arm and delved his fingers into her damp hair, turning her head toward him. He brushed his lips over hers. “I’m gonna make you feel good tonight, Claire.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Like you haven’t already.”

  “I’m just getting started.”

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Then put your mouth on me…” She slid a hand down her body to the apex of her legs. “Here.”

  Yeah, he was all over that. He crawled onto the bed and skimmed his lips down her rib cage. “Do you have more sweetness down there for me, or did the bath wash it all away?”

  She groaned and arched toward his mouth even as she touched herself. “It’s there. I’m wet for you.”

  “Greedy girl.” He grinned against her skin and slid lower. “Get your fingers out of there. I’m going to taste you on my tongue. I’m going to lap you up. I want your juices in my mouth, sliding down my throat, when you come.”

  She squirmed under him, making frantic, urgent noises, wordlessly begging him to move faster.

  He reached up and laid a hand across her rib cage, pinning her down. “Nuh-uh, cher. I was born in the bayou where everything moves…” He dipped his head and flicked his tongue across her folds. “Slow.”

  “Oh, please… just…” She made a sound of pure sexual frustration and tangled her fingers into his hair, digging her nails into his scalp as she pushed his head down.

  The bite of pain sent a jolt of lust straight down his shaft. It’d be so easy to sit up, pull her legs up over his thighs, and bury himself to the balls. She wanted it. Her pussy was ripe for it, open and waiting. But he’d gone too fast earlier in the bathroom. He’d had an itch that desperately ne
eded scratching and hadn’t been the kind of lover she deserved.

  He slid two fingers into her opening and nipped at her inner thigh. Her sharp intake of breath and the involuntary clench of her walls around his fingers told him she was into it. He circled her clit with his tongue, felt her grow slick with need.

  “You want my cock instead of my fingers, don’t you? All you gotta do is ask for it. I’ll slide all of it in. Right here.” He curled his fingers inside her, searching for the sweet spot to send her flying. He knew the exact moment he found it. Her breath caught, and color blossomed across her breasts and filled her cheeks. Her head fell back, her eyes closed. He’d teased her to the edge of another climax in the tub, and now he was going to deliver. She was right there, poised on the edge. All she needed was a little push.

  He leaned down, breathing in that gorgeous vanilla scent that stayed with her even after a bath. Mmm. He flicked his tongue out, swirled it around her clit until her back bowed off the bed…

  …and then he sucked it fully into his mouth.

  She let out a breathless scream as her body convulsed.

  As she fell apart under his mouth, his hands, she ripped the sheet off the mattress with one hand, and about yanked his hair out of his head with the other. He fucking loved it.

  And they weren’t even close to done yet.

  He was so hard and sensitized that rolling on a condom was a trial in control.

  “Open your legs wider,” he said, voice rougher than he’d wanted. But, merde, he was hanging on by a thin thread here and he needed inside her before he let go.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, still trembling through the aftershocks of the G-spot orgasm. “I don’t think I can move. I’ve never felt anything like that. I’ve lost control of…everything.”

  He’d take care of that. Scooping up her legs, one on each arm, he plunged into her in one hard stroke. If he wasn’t already on his knees, the way she screamed, her pussy clenching around him, would’ve sent him there. He groaned and slammed his hand against the wall, trying to keep them steady as he ground into her deep and slow. Beneath him, Claire arched against him, her hand fluttering down to where they were joined, her mouth falling open on a low moan.

  Jean-Luc cursed in half a dozen different languages. The sight of her delicate fingertips tracing his thrusting cock, watching her open and take all of him… Oh, he’d done a lot of kinky shit over the years, but none of it compared to this.

  Doing this with Claire felt different. It was sensual. Powerful. No manic desperation to be found. That empty ache inside him he was always trying to fill with booze and sex…it had disappeared.

  All this time, he hadn’t needed sex. He’d needed Claire.

  He stared down at her, awed that she had the power to make him feel whole for the first time in his adult life. Her breasts bounced gently with each slow grind of his hips. He hadn’t noticed it in the bathroom, but she still wore his gris-gris on the cord around her neck. Despite her doubts about its power, she hadn’t taken it off. Because he had been the one to give it to her? The idea thrilled him.

  “Mmm. I fucking love watching you take me like this. You look like a goddess right now, Claire. Do you like feeling how I fuck you?”

  She gasped. “Jean-Luc… Oh. I’m—I’m going to come again.” She dragged a hand through her hair and held it back from her face. Sweat glistened along her temple in pretty little droplets and he leaned in to lick it off.

  “I want you to. Let me feel that pussy milk me. Squeeze me dry.”

  He knew the moment she climbed over that peak, and it wasn’t because of the way she frantically grabbed his shoulders, or the hoarse cry he smothered with a kiss. Like the sex, it was a slow orgasm, and her walls clamped around him in waves that would’ve destroyed a weaker man. Hell, they might just destroy him. His balls drew up tight and his muscles tensed as his own release roared through him.

  When he could see again, he stilled and stared down at Claire, trying to burn every detail of her into his memory. She was so pretty, with her eyes closed, skin flushed and dewy, and her hair a mess. He’d be content to stay here with her like this forever.

  Which didn’t scare him as much as it once would have. In fact, he kinda dug the idea. Was that how it had started with all his friends who had given up their bachelorhood? First the chemistry, then the mind-blowing sex, and then…something more?

  Mais la! Was he falling in love with Claire?

  Now that scared him. He was no good for a woman like Claire, and he had no business letting himself even think in those terms, no matter how his heart clenched at the idea. He pulled out of her and shifted away. Better to keep things light, easy. He liked easy.

  “I think you found religion,” he joked.

  “Hmm?” She pried one eye open to squint at him.

  He grinned and forced his shaking muscles to move so he could deal with the condom. “You were certainly praying to God a lot tonight. Or maybe that was my name you were praising?”

  She snorted and tossed her pillow at him. “Okay, smart-ass.”

  “Why, yes, I do have a very smart ass.” He gave his hips a little shake on the way to the bathroom. “Thank you for noticing.”

  She groaned but couldn’t quite hide the amusement in her voice as she called after him, “Stop patting yourself on the back. It’s not flattering.”

  In the bathroom, he tossed the condom and cleaned up. The tub was still full, and they had spilled water all over the floor. He took a moment to throw down a towel and pull the plug in the drain.

  Two bottles of water sat on the counter next to the sink. He drained one, then grabbed the other to take out to her.

  On his way back to bed, he picked up the pillow she’d thrown at him. “Just saying. You’ve had three orgasms tonight, am I right?”

  “I was right about you when we first met,” she said and sat up to accept the water. “You think you’re God’s gift to womankind.”

  Not all womankind, he thought. Not anymore. The thought of having sex with a parade of nameless women again or, in fact, with any woman but Claire, actually left him feeling queasy.

  Holy shit. He was in trouble, maybe the most he’d ever been in.

  And he didn’t want out.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “You’ve done well,” Harrison said. “You managed to get the research, which was more than that bonehead Briggs accomplished in Martinique. Bioteric is pleased, and I’m proud of you.”

  Mercedes closed her eyes. She used to live for those words from him. For most of her life, her only goal had been to be a perfect little weapon he could aim and fire with deadly accuracy. She’d been blind when it came to this man, but no more. His favor changed as often as the weather, and she was done trying to win it.

  “I’m glad.” Her voice came out normal, steady even though she was shaking with fear inside. “Because I have a request. A favor. It’s important to me.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can accommodate you. Within reason, of course.”

  Somehow she doubted her request to let Seb leave would be considered “within reason,” but she had to try. She opened her mouth to ask, but never got the words out.

  Harrison steamrolled over her. “I’m told Bioteric has a representative in the city. He’s on his way to you to secure the research.”

  She glanced over to the elevator Dr. Oliver and her HORNET bodyguards had used. “What about the doctor?”

  “Their representative will speak to her, but if she still refuses their generous offer, you know what to do.”

  Claws of dread scraped down Mercedes’s spine. She’d killed before in the line of duty, and likely would again, but not like this. They had Dr. Oliver’s research. What was the point of continuing to pursue her?

  Maybe Seb had it right. Maybe the only way out was to just leave. Fade away, disappear, and hope to hell Harrison and Defion never found them.

  Instead, she said, “I’ll do what needs to be done.” Because it was
as close to the truth as she could get. She’d do whatever needed to be done to protect Sebastian, even if it didn’t align with Harrison’s agenda.

  “Good girl. You always were my favorite.”

  She hated when he said that. She really did. Because it simply wasn’t true. He had a favorite before her, a man who could do no wrong in Harrison’s eyes. Harrison had even let the guy leave Defion—the first to do so successfully. Supposedly her brother had been the second, but she highly doubted Xander had made it out. Every year on their mother’s birthday, he put peonies on her grave. Her favorite flowers. But the bouquet hadn’t appeared this year. If Xander was alive and free somewhere, he’d have found a way to make it happen.

  “The Bioteric rep should be there within the hour,” Harrison continued, all business again. “He requests you wear a red scarf, tied twice around your neck, and meet him in the hotel bar.”

  She dragged her focus back to the conversation. “That’s…unusual.”

  “He’s an unusual man. Just give him the research and your job is done. Unless, of course, Dr. Oliver refuses Bioteric’s offer.”

  She drew a breath in preparation to approach the subject of Sebastian, but Harrison hung up before she got a word out. Shit.

  She pocketed her phone.

  Red scarf.

  Okay.

  A quick trip through the hotel’s gift shop netted her the requested scarf. It had little gold accents all over it. Ugly, but it did the job. She tied it twice around her neck—a ridiculous look since the temperature sat at eighty-eight degrees with one hundred percent humidity—and headed to the bar.

  She may as well have a drink or two while she waited.

  She was sipping her third when the Bioteric rep showed just about an hour later. She made the man the instant he stepped into the bar. He wore his salt and pepper hair in a comb-over and dressed like an English professor, complete with the elbow patches on his jacket. Who wore a jacket in this heat? Oh, right. The man who made her wear a scarf.

  If that wasn’t him, she’d eat the damn itchy scarf.

  He scanned the room. When he spotted her, his pockmarked face showed only the faintest flicker of interest. At least, until he saw the cooler on the floor at her feet, then a polite smile ticked up the corner of his lips. It wasn’t real, though. There was something plastic about it. Calculated. Empty.