Endgame (17 page)

Aaron narrowed his gaze, setting his own jaw. His mess. Finally, Jake sighed and backed a step, giving Aaron access to his bedroom. He gestured that he’d be in his room, just in case.

Aaron carried her in, shut the door with his foot, and folded her into his bed. She shuddered but clung to his shoulders, her nails digging in. He winced as he climbed in next to her, tugging her close. He used the corner of the sheet to wipe her face, her nose, vowing to wash them the next day anyway. Then he held her.

After a while, the shuddering stopped and her nails receded from his skin. He cautiously glanced down. She had fallen asleep, her dark lashes brushing stained cheeks, her nose red, her mouth open. Little gaps for air came now and then, as if she still had more to cry out, even in her sleep.

He’d never seen anything so sadly beautiful before in his entire life.

He closed his eyes, and for the first time in years, he prayed for something other than a solution to his shitty life. He prayed for Charlotte, to help her find a way to ease her pain, to make her baggage less.

She didn’t believe in God, and half of the time now, he had his doubts. But he didn’t think his God was cruel. Yeah, bad stuff happened, but God was in every inch of the aftermath, helping people sort out their lives, visible in the good deeds others did to help. God had sent her Chase and Jake to help her, to be her family.

Aaron sat up.

Maybe…maybe God had sent her to him. He prayed because his life was shit, had no meaning, had no destiny except lying to millions of people on screen about something he wasn’t. And here she was, needing something—someone—to make her live again.

Jake had told her that’s what she needed. She’d said he made her feel things she never felt, even with her husband, which was powerful stuff. He felt the change in her, too. In his arms, she was all woman, not a secret agent with anger management issues.

Maybe his destiny was to get over being a punk and see to Charlotte’s happiness. Bedding her probably wasn’t a part of divine intervention. But if he got her to live a little while she was here, and she got him to stop being a punk…maybe that would be the best thing for both of them.

He watched her sleep. The little gasps had stopped, but she clutched her shirt with a death grip, as if afraid he’d steal it. He had done this to her somehow, and he would find a way to fix it. The problem was, she deserved to kill him.

So how did he fix this, and not die?

Chapter Nine

Charlotte never drifted awake, but for some reason, this is what her body demanded she do. Not jump to her feet, ready to kill, but float to the surface of some warm, really pleasurable pond. Or something else that was hot and wet, like the sensations down below her waist.

She opened an eye, then two. Aaron peeked up at her from between her thighs, his mouth fastened to her clit. She started to smile—so naughty of him—and drift back off, lifting her hands to sink into his hair—

Why wouldn’t her hands move? She tugged, and they stayed secured above her head. She opened her mouth to demand answers and realized the fucking punk had bound and gagged her.

“Hey, baby,” the fucking punk greeted from between her legs, his mouth done with its ministrations. He slipped two fingers inside her pussy and angled himself over her hips. “I’m sorry. I had to tie you up so you wouldn’t kill me before I got to say my piece. And if you screamed bloody murder at me, Jake would come to the rescue and kick my ass, and then leave me so you could kill me. The odds weren’t good.”

She shot him her most deadly glare. Smart man, realizing the odds were not in his favor. In a rush, everything from the night before came back—the incredible sex, the humiliation, the sadness, the grief. She’d cried in his arms, damn it, and this is how he woke her? Bound and gagged, with his fingers in her pussy?

She was cold, hard, and mean and threatened his life regularly. Maybe he had something.

“I couldn’t figure out how to tie down your legs, so I’ll just lie here for a bit and occupy the South Pole while I talk to you. I figure if I get you close to orgasm, you’ll be less likely to kill me, too. I don’t think you can kill me with your feet, but I’m probably wrong.”

So wrong, but his fingers were stroking just the way she liked, thrusting deep, his other hand doing hard circles on her clit. The orgasm was already in the backseat, waiting for the right moment to spring.

He glanced up to say, “I told the truth. All Jake said was to treat you right, not to fuck up, you were special and to use lube in the condom. That’s it. I admit I was disobedient for listening. But listening has gained me a lot of knowledge about you. I can’t ask Jake, you won’t talk, and I… I want to please you. I do.”

He returned to her stomach, lapping his tongue out and around her navel, delving in the creases made by her scars. The old bullet wound on her right side, the old knife slash on the left, the myriad other scars here and there. So erotic to have his tongue bathe them. Her mouth went dry, the moisture stolen by her soaked pussy, his fingers still deep inside, exploring.

He lifted his head and propped himself on an elbow, the other hand playing with her clit. “Jake said you’re submissive, but I don’t think so, not anymore. I think you’ve become a switch, and maybe that’s what I am, too. We get off on both sides of the power until it shifts, and it’s good, Char. Really good. When you threaten to kill me, my libido goes wild. Stupid, I know. Crazy, because I have you tied up and the thought of you escaping and killing me makes me harder than steel.”

He brushed his hard cock against her thigh as if to prove his point.

“Challenging you today… I know I was wrong, but I think I could have come a bucketful when I dared you to kill me in the kitchen and just walked out. And I know the agent in you was sorely tempted. So thank you for not killing me.”

Yes, he was wrong to tempt her like that. Watching him count pennies under the watchful eye of a drooling teenybopper had been too divine a punishment for his actions. Sinful, even. Almost as sinful as what his hands were doing, skimming along her ribs, drawing sensual patterns as they worked their way up to her breasts. His left remained deep inside her pussy, playing in totally different erotic rhythm.

“You’re special, Charlotte. Jake was right. The woman in you is compassionate and gentle. You were kind to me when I told you about my problems with sex. The spy in you would have shot me for being weak, but not the woman. It doesn’t mean I won’t still have issues—I’m a chicken shit. I also don’t fear you less, hence the bondage session.”

Her skin turned pink at his praise, though the hard and mean part of her brushed it off as the room being too hot. So she instead concentrated on his thumb and forefinger tweaking her nipple, ratcheting the spikes of pleasure racing through her blood.

“So. Here’s the plan. I’m going to try to give you three orgasms, hopefully before I shoot the moon, so I can get a foot in the contest door. I’m competitive like that. When I’m done, you can kill me at your leisure. I won’t stop you. Deal?”

She shook her head, not wanting to kill him at all. Her entire body chorused at the idea of that much pleasure.

“No? Damn, woman.” He thought for a moment. “You’re not going to kill me?”

She shook her head.

He looked relieved. “That’s good. Can I take the gag off, then?”

She shook her head and glared. Absolutely not.

“You…like it?”

She nodded vigorously.

“The bondage? You like that?”

Oh, yes, she did. Knowing she wanted to kill him and couldn’t, that he could in turn kill her or make her come was so delicious. Much more of a violent way of looking at bondage than in the past, but she was no longer a doormat.

“Okay.” He sat back on his heels, a little more confident as assessed her. “I did some research—don’t roll your eyes, woman. I found a few household items I can use to play with you, to help get the three orgasms. Would you like that?”

She nodded, intrigued. No one researched like Aaron.

“I don’t like that I have no clue what I’m doing, and you can’t speak. Will you moan or something, to let me know if I’m not doing things right?”

She nodded, touched that he cared.

“When we’re done…you have to talk to me. That’s my reward. You’re going to talk to me like Jake demanded, and I’ll listen. But for right now, because Ma’am is happy, trussed up like a mute Christmas goose, we’ll go for it.”

She nodded, her breathing increasing.

“I found plastic clothespins, for clamps. If I’m going to do it to you, I want to feel it first, so I don’t hurt you. So I’m going to clamp mine, and you nod if I’m doing it right. I only have three, so one for me, two for you.” He grabbed a blue plastic clothespin and tweaked his nipple a few times. The clothespin opened and clamped on. His eyes widened. “Okay. This is interesting. They say it hurts more when it comes off, yes?”

She nodded. That was the part she liked best.

“Your turn?”

She nodded and squirmed in anticipation.
Yes, please
.

He sucked her nipple, rolling his tongue around the tightening peak. Then he applied the clothespin to her nipple, careful to take the entire peak and the skin around. So good, the sting. She moaned through the gag. He sucked the next one and applied a green clothespin on that one. “Sorry they don’t match. Feel good? What if I did this—” He tugged on them both.

Pleasure rode the pain straight to her pussy, flooding her core with fresh wetness. She groaned and writhed as much as she could.

“Ha! I like this. A squirming Danger Girl is a powerful sight.” He settled himself between her thighs again. “I’m going to dine a bit, and then I’m going to do a bit more research, okay?”

He lowered his head and sucked her clit, his fingers thrusting deep in her pussy. He reached up and tweaked a clothespin. She moaned and the floodgates inside her core opened, bathing his fingers and tongue with fresh cream.

“Like that, do you?” He lapped. Her pussy clenched, tightened, the orgasm once in the backseat now moving up front, taking control. She fought it, not wanting this to end. “I can feel your muscles quiver and contract. Come for me, baby.”

He reached up and tweaked first one clothespin, then the other, and she lost the fight. She moaned and shattered around his fingers. He rose, released one clothespin and sucked her nipple, the pain even more exquisite as the blood rushed back, the orgasm continuing. He released the other, sucking the peak, pleasure rebounding.

“One nice big orgasm. Right, baby?”

She moaned between gasps for breath and nodded. Divine orgasm.

He put some lube on his cock then slid a condom on, careful to hold the end. “First condom myself,” he said proudly. He positioned himself between her thighs and thrust in gently, reverence lining his face as he watched his cock disappear inch by inch.

Guilt washed over her, that he’d look at her that way, make her feel special. Whole. Like she was more precious than gold when she was nothing more than a killer with designs on motherfuckers.

He stilled and reached for something. “I can’t thrust too much, or I’ll come. So I’m going to just tuck my dick in here and play a bit. I’m hoping for orgasm two. I want to learn what it feels like to have you get ready to come, so I can do this better.”

Something motorized started up, whirling.

“A spare electric toothbrush. It’s supposed to be awesome on your clit. Soft, not bristly like you’d expect—I tried it on my dick. I’ll just sit here,
in situ
, and whirl away.” He touched the soft head to her clit, and she tried to arch off the bed. “Too much?”

She shook her head and moaned into the gag. It was fucking divine, almost better than a vibrator. The pressure was perfect, hitting the right note. A sheen of perspiration broke out on her skin as desire climbed higher. She wiggled a bit, trying to get his cock to thrust, but she was stretched out as far as she could go. Wiggling only served to hit the ropes holding her wrists and made him slip out just a bit.

Aaron inched up and rocked forward, sliding his shaft deeper. “I could die here a happy man.”

She didn’t want him to die, she wanted him to start fucking her. She tensed her stomach muscles and arched her back this time, extending her length to take him even deeper. Get him to move. She swallowed dryness. Moisture had left ages ago. He changed the position of the toothbrush, the head whirling around, circling, hitting that sweet spot, circling. Torturous punk. But like a cup about to overflow, her orgasm flooded upward, toward the top, and—

He lifted the toothbrush. “Fireworks about to begin, baby?”

Like a plug pulled in the tub, her orgasm sank back down, swirling lazily. She screamed behind her gag and drummed her heels on the mattress.

He gave her the evilest, dirtiest laugh—one a villain wouldn’t dare use. “That’s fun. Almost as good as a blowjob. So let’s do it again.”

And the climb began again, the toothbrush returned to her clit, only this time he gave a few pumps of his cock, sinking himself deep with a little twist of his lean hips. He reached up and gave her sensitive nipple a sweet tug, the pleasure divine, her pussy clenching when all she wanted was to open her legs and swallow every inch of him whole.

Again, he stopped as the swell reached the top, the pleasure teetering on the edge. Desperation surfaced, floating. Would he do this all night, or would he let her come? Damn him for learning her so quickly.

“How many is that, love?” he asked, his grin a little tense. Good, his little game was starting to take its toll. “I think it’s time for fireworks, don’t you agree?”

God, yes. She’d never look at her toothbrush the same way again. Her inner thighs quaked around his hips as the soft bristles circled again. She closed her eyes and grabbed the ropes above her, clenching them in her hands. Her body felt like it was wrapped in liquid fire, every nerve ending attuned to Aaron. The orgasm lifted, swelling, higher, to the top—

This time he let her explode, the waves of pleasure intense, her toes aching as they curled into the sweaty sheets. She screamed through the gag, the ropes biting into her wrists as she gripped them harder, her hips arching off the bed, wanting him to thrust.