“Which team are you on?”
“Deliverability.”
He glanced over. “Meaning?”
“Our mosquitos can land on a person or animal and sting them, for lack of a better term. In reality, we will be injecting them with a chip.”
“Jesus.”
“This morning’s attempt was successful. As you saw on the monitor, we were able to track the subject’s motions and actions. In the future we hope to listen in to conversations.”
“This has all kinds of applications for the military.”
She rolled the globe of the wineglass between her palms.
Trace turned to her. “Hawkeye is a government contractor on this?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
“What if it falls into the wrong hands?”
A number of ethical conundrums had run through her mind, and she’d reached her own sort of peace. “Obviously there are a lot of concerns about the technology.”
“Privacy.”
Aimee nodded. “Among other things.” She loved her work, but due to the sensitive nature of it, she rarely had the chance to talk about it. Her social circle was somewhat limited, and she spent most of her time communicating through email or on chat with other teammates. If she didn’t go out for her daily latte, her voice would probably dry up from disuse. “Let’s say we’re hired to protect the daughter of a company president, but she doesn’t want a detail. Should we be allowed to chip her without her knowledge? Or her pet, or what about her pillow? And if we’re trying to infiltrate an organization—say we’re trying to rescue a kidnapped businessman in Colombia—we need intel, and this is a way to get it. Most people would say that’s a good use of the technology.”
“Agreed.”
“But what if a man suspects his wife is cheating on him? Should it be okay for him to chip her, or the Chihuahua she puts in her purse before she goes out? Do the ends justify the means?”
“When you work on something with the potential for good and evil in the same package, it has to keep you awake at night.”
“You might think so. The potential benefits are enormous. And I also believe that others have to be working on similar things, right? Nanotechnology isn’t new. You can bet bad guys have teams on it, and so do enemy governments. We must be ahead on this. How do we know this isn’t already being used on our soldiers, our state department representatives, even elected officials?”
“Do you have the chip here?”
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head. “I’m not a hardware person. So there’s nothing here that would be of interest. The security around the project is immense. Even if someone found out about it, what would lead them to me? That’s why I think the break-in was random. I’m not as concerned as…” She trailed off. “That’s why I’m not as concerned as my sister seems to be,” she said instead.
“You almost said her name.”
“Did not.” Not under penalty of death.
“Jennifer?”
She shook her head.
“Susan?”
She laughed.
“Mandy?”
“Mandy? No.” Her sister’s first and middle names were top secret at Hawkeye. Aimee had been sworn to secrecy, and it generally wasn’t difficult to avoid mentioning them since she worked remotely.
“I’ll get it out of you.”
His eyes turned molten, and instantly she was back in the bedroom, her mind clouded with images of him. And no doubt he could get her to reveal almost anything. “Dinner,” she reminded him. “Steaks.”
“Right. Dinner.”
She glanced down into the depths of the wine.
Trace went outside, and she forced herself away from the sudden memories long enough to segment an orange to add to the salad. Then she sprinkled pine nuts on top. She used tongs to move a small portion into a bowl for Eureka before tossing in feta cheese.
When he returned, Trace added more salt to the pico de gallo, then opened a bag of corn chips.
Aimee scooped up a taste test. “If this whole security operative thing doesn’t work out for you, I’m willing to consider hiring you as a chef.”
“Thank you. I think.”
Within a few minutes, he’d plated the steaks, and they were seated across from each other.
“This dinner really is amazing,” she said after her first bite.
“Passes the time when I’m on a detail. And nothing beats a good meal. I enjoy the cooking. Now if I can get Mom to turn over control of the Thanksgiving turkey to me…”
Once she finished her glass of wine, she stood to grab the bottle from the counter.
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“Oh?”
“I promised I wasn’t done with you. Safe, sane, consensual,” he reminded her.
Unsteadily, she put the bottle back down and swallowed deeply. She rejoined him at the table, and the excited nerves chasing through her took away her appetite.
Though they chatted about his family and their holiday celebrations, she couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen later. And she’d never been happier a meal ended.
“I’ll load the dishwasher while you prepare yourself for me,” Trace said.
“Prepare myself?”
“I’ll meet you in the bedroom, where I expect to find you naked and kneeling with your nipple clamps draped over your open palms.”
Her heart skidded to a stop.
“Any questions?”
She tried to make her mouth move, but it didn’t.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Querida?”
“I’m…”
“You could try ‘Yes, Trace.’ Or ‘Yes, Sir.’”
Her mind went into freefall. “Yes,…Trace.”
She turned to flee. When she reached the bedroom door, he called her name. Instantly she froze and looked in his direction.
“On second thought, get out all of your toys and place them on the nightstand, along with the lube.”
To steady herself, she grabbed the doorframe.
“Don’t dawdle.”
Her world tilted. Her introduction to BDSM had been stunning in its physicality and her emotional response to it. She’d expected sex with him to be like fucking, hot but disconnected. Instead, his tenderness had seeped through her defenses. This time, he was going a different direction. Not knowing what to expect was scary and delicious.
She tugged open the drawer with her personal items and removed the lube. Shaking, she lined up the butt plug next to it. That, she hoped, he didn’t intend to use. She’d bought it because it was on sale and because she was curious. But she’d never quite had the guts to try it. Her one attempt at anal sex in college had ended in disaster, enough so that she had never attempted it again.
In the kitchen, the faucet turned off, which meant she was running out of time. And of course, ever vigilant, he checked in with the team for an update.
She pulled out her vibrator and the nipple clamps before kicking off her shoes and taking off her clothes.
Quickly, she knelt, the chain from the clamps draped over her extended palms. At the sound of his boots on the hardwood floor, she remembered to spread her thighs farther apart.
“Beautiful.” He entered the room to stand directly in front of her.
How had she not realized what this would be like, with him so large and dominating, filling her vision? No wonder kneeling was so common in the books she read. There was something significant to being in a helpless position, waiting for instructions.
He crouched in front of her and placed his knuckles beneath her chin. Then, he slid two fingers between her legs, glancing a touch across her clit.
She moaned, leaning into him.
“Stay where you are, please.”
How could she?
He entered her with the same two fingers, then spread them apart. Needing to hold on to him, she lost her grip on the clamps, sending them clattering to the hardwood floor.
“That was unfortunate.” He
gently pinched her clit, and she pitched forward. “Shall I pick them up for you, querida?”
“Uhm, yes.” God, she was overwhelmed. He was so damn sexy, the pinch had hurt, but pleasure chased it away. “Please.”
“Extend your hands again, please.” He scooped up the clamps and hung the chain from her hands. “This time, do what it takes to hold them in place.” His words were soft but unrelenting as he slid between her folds again, gently abrading her clit with a thumbnail.
To shut out the overwhelming sensations, she closed her eyes. Boron. Bromine. Cadmium.
“That’s perfect, Aimee. Now…” He pulled away his hand. He stood while she blinked the world back into focus. “Put the clamps on your nipples. Show me how you do it.”
She fumbled with the chain but this time managed to hold on.
“Yes, Trace,” he prompted.
“Yes, Trace.”
“Those may be my favorite words.” He folded his arms and watched her.
Calcium. Californium. Shoving aside her sense of mortification, Aimee played with her left nipple until it was swollen. Then, being careful, she went to set the clamp in place. She fumbled slightly, and the pinchers caught just the tip. She yelped and pulled away the vicious little teeth.
“Would you like a little help?”
Breathless, she looked up at him. “If… Yes, Trace.”
He brushed her fingers aside and took hold of her nipple. At first he was gentle, soothing away the hurt, but as sexual response flowed through her, he squeezed a little harder, then tugged it out, elongating the flesh. “Now put it on.”
This time, she managed to affix the thing correctly, not that it was much better. “Will you help with the other one as well?”
“If you have difficulty.”
She had a sense that he enjoyed that, even if it was just a little.
It took her two attempts to set the second in place.
“They look very pretty.”
His tone made the ache bearable.
“I want you on the bed, querida. Sit on the edge.”
As she stood, the chain swayed, and the little teeth seemed to bite deeper. Pleasure swept straight to her pussy, making her moan.
“You knew.”
She frowned at him.
“How good it would be. BDSM. Involving your mind, your body, your imagination.”
“Honestly?” She sought the right words. “Better. Reading about someone else’s experiences is one thing, but, I guess… The way you pinched my clit? So unexpected. It hurt, yet it was so appropriate, and so wonderful. Nothing could describe it.”
He nodded.
She moved slowly, minimizing her motions as she perched on the edge of the bed.
“Tell me about your butt plug.”
“I bought it on a whim, but I’ve never used it.”
“Until me.”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
He pulled out a condom and dropped it on the nightstand before undressing. His beautiful cock was already hard and pointing in her direction.
Surprising her, he picked up the tiny vibrator, then tested it on his finger, sliding the speed bar up and down and tested each setting, from a flutter, to an intermittent pulse, to a constant thrum. “Is it powerful enough for you?”
“Yes.”
He flicked it off, then squeezed a dollop of lube onto the little nubs before offering it to her. “Lay back and raise your legs.”
Fearing what was next, she did as he said. The chain swayed, pulling on her nipples. Then Trace took her hips and pulled her forward, until only part of her buttocks remained on the mattress. If she tried to lower her legs, her shifting weight would pull her out of bed.
“Turn the vibrator on pulse and hold it against your clit. Keep it there.”
She did as he said while he rolled the condom on. Trace stood there, stroking his shaft as she pressed the wiggling device against her pussy.
“Keep your legs apart so I can see. You wouldn’t want me to have to devise a spreader bar.”
“Of course not, Trace.” Though she’d never admit it, the threat thrilled her.
Watching him stroke off was ultrahot, shoving her toward an orgasm. Then the device let out a strong pulse. She jerked her hips, almost toppling from the bed. Her abs struggled to hold her in place. The man was diabolical.
“How wet are you?” Obviously his question was rhetorical since he slid a finger inside her to check for himself.
Her pussy clenched in response.
He eased out his finger and placed his cockhead at her entrance. He gripped the chain running between her nipples and gave an exquisite tug, making her arch toward him. “Are you ready for me, Aimee?”
“Yes, yes!”
The angle and her complete submission gave him incredible access. He stroked in and out, deeper each time as her body responded to him.
Then his shoulders were against her legs, giving him greater leverage, placing her even more at his mercy.
She was splintering.
“Take me, Aimee. All of me.”
Finally, she was filled with him, and he leaned into her. She cried out. He was so big. Relentless. And the pain shooting through her nipples, the persistent pulse on her clit.
Carbon. Cerium. Cesium.
“Hang on for a moment.” He eased out, then gyrated his hips, his cock angling against her G-spot.
“Trace!”
“Move the vibrator away.”
Grateful, she dropped her hand to her side.
“Leave it on, and keep hold of it.”
It pulsed in her palm, and she would swear her pussy clenched as if it were still in place. She shuddered as the ripples built in her.
He moved the chain so that it was near her face. “Open your mouth.”
She widened her eyes. He couldn’t be serious.
“I mean it, Aimee. Do as I say.”
In order to obey, she had to lift her head a little, which meant if she tried to lie down, she’d put unbearable pressure on her nipples.
Still, wild with desire, she opened her mouth.
“Don’t let it go.”
She started to nod, but the tugging sensation brought her back to the edge of a climax. Cesium… Cesium. Suddenly she had no idea what came next.
“Now give me the vibrator.”
“But…”
He gave her pussy a hard little smack.
She screamed and immediately offered the vibrator.
“Excellent.” When he pressed it against her, he didn’t set it to a tiny, annoying pulse. Instead, he selected a rapid hum.
Unable to hold off, she cried out and climaxed. Her head dropped back, pulling off the clamps, making her scream and come a second time.
He moved the vibrator away and turned it off. “That was worth the wait, wasn’t it?”
She gasped for breath and met his gaze. It had been.
Trace had given her the most intense orgasm of her life. A wave of something she didn’t dare name swept through her. But it left her vulnerable. She told herself it was natural, a result of a powerful reaction. Nothing more.
Somewhere deep, she recognized her own lie.
“I do like watching your reactions, querida.” He pressed his thumb to her, and the pressure, without movement, was soothing. He resumed fucking her, this time in long strokes.
Surrendered, she relaxed, enjoying the less frenetic pace. She caught her breath as she moved with him.
“You fit me well.” He leaned farther forward, stretching her hamstrings. But then he cradled her face in his palms. She’d never experienced this sort of connection with another person. It was more than sexual, it was a joining on all levels.
She feasted her gaze on him, watching his eyes become darker, more hooded. Droplets of sweat dotted his eyebrows, and his confident smile faded as he tipped back his head.
His cock swelled, and he moved faster, pulling out only a little before surging in again. He filled her completely, and that reali
zation drove her response.
“So fucking…you’re mine.” He fisted his hands into her hair, holding her tight as he ejaculated, repeating her name over and over.
Even in the throes and aftermath of sex, he took care not to collapse on top of her. Instead, he braced himself near her shoulders, and he looked at her, as if memorizing her face.
“Everything about you is perfect.”
She swallowed deeply. Whatever this was, it was making her an emotional wreck. She smiled to cover her confusion.
Long moments later, he adjusted her on the bed so that her body was completely supported by the mattress. Only then did he leave her to dispose of the condom.
He was back within seconds, joining her, holding her. “You did amazingly well.”
“You make it easy.” She turned onto her side and snuggled up against the lean, protective planes of his body. His reactions ensured she wasn’t self-conscious, giving her freedom to explore.
Entwined, they fell into silence. Eureka rang his bell and told himself he was a pretty bird.
Trace grinned. “He’s got a healthy ego.”
“I think all the males around here do.”
Her body began to cool, and her muscles, unaccustomed to being stretched so far, began to burn a little. “I think I’ll take a bath.”
“Make it a shower and I’ll join you.”
Chapter 8
Trace was navigating foreign territory.
Even with Monica, he’d always been able to separate the strands of the relationship and BDSM. He was her Dom. She was a sub. They had cared for each other for a time, and yet he had never been obsessed with her. He never lost sleep because of an argument.
Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about Aimee, how to please her, give her new experiences, while protecting her. Not just physically, but emotionally.
It disturbed him.
Maybe it was the constant proximity, the responsibility. Even the knowledge Inamorata was depending on him to stay sharp and keep Aimee safe.
And maybe it was something damn else entirely.
After checking the security system and his phone, he made his rounds through the house again. It was unnecessary, but still a compulsion.
In the dining room, Eureka growled at him. Confounding avian. At times, they were friends. Of course, the bird had probably heard Aimee’s cries, maybe making him territorial.
Trust in Me (Hawkeye Book 2) Page 10