MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories) (151 page)

The Spy’s Desires

Chapter One

“You’ve worked for Simon Denning for five years,” the perspiring tabloid reporter said as he blocked the office door with a pudgy arm.    “So you gotta know if he’s seeing Chanda Lear.”

Anna Kerr imagined how much easier her life would be if she were licensed to kill, like her boss.  “Mr. Denning doesn’t date light fixtures.”

He snorted out a laugh.  “Don’t you watch television?  I’m talking about Chanda Lear, the hottest reality star on the planet.”

When Anna had moved from London to Nassau, she’d left behind everything but her summer clothes, and she’d never bothered to buy a television.  Living in a tropical paradise where the temperature rarely dipped below sultry made it impossible for her to stay indoors; she spent most of her spare time swimming in the jewel-bright sea or tending to the exotic flower garden she’d planted behind her little beachside cottage.

Working as a secretary to Simon Denning wasn’t exciting, exactly, although it was part of Anne’s job to protect her British billionaire playboy boss.  She did so primarily by helping to maintain the myth of the hedonistic, jet-setting lifestyle that he used as a cover for his intelligence work.  That included arranging deliveries of very expensive flowers and gifts to whatever beautiful woman he was currently bedding, although she hadn’t yet heard about this oddly-named celebrity.

“Come on, Ms. Kerr.”  The reporter’s tone became wheedling.  “If you give me something juicy, I can make it worth your while.”  He rubbed the tips of his fingers together.

“Right.”  She took out her mobile.  “I’m calling security now to have you escorted from the building – unless you’d rather leave on your own, and not be dragged out and tossed in the street?”

“You Limeys are so snotty,” the reporter snapped before he stalked off.

“Half-Scottish, actually,” she called after him before sighing and unlocking the office door.

Once Anna put her bag and keys on her desk, she went into the little kitchen to put on the kettle.  She could make tea in her sleep, so the task gave her time to ponder the reporter’s ambush, and the possibility that her boss might be romantically involved with a woman using such a ridiculous name.

“So what if he is?” she muttered as she measured a precise amount of fragrant Darjeeling for the pot.  “He’s a billionaire, and she’s on television.  Match made in heaven, I should think.”

Learning that Simon had taken up with a new woman always stung a little.  He went through lovers like bags of crisps, while she watched and suffered in silence.  Yet Anna knew if she told her rich, handsome boss how she felt, he’d give her the sack instead of his heart.

Falling in love with Simon had been inevitable.  From the moment they’d met at her final interview, he’d even predicted that she would.

“You’ve been vetted and briefed by MI-6, so you know what to expect from the job,” Simon said, sounding bored.  “Now, when you fall in love with me, how will you cope?”

Anna’s throat tightened; the last man she’d given her heart to had paid for it with his life.  “I’m sorry, sir?”

“Every secretary I’ve had has gone daft over me.  Damned inconvenient, but it’s happened so often that I feel I must warn you in advance.”  He glanced up from reading the file she’d presented.  “Unless you’re a lesbian?”

              “Sorry, no, sir.”  She smiled politely.  “I suppose I could become one, if you think it would help.”

              A glint of appreciation warmed Simon’s cold eyes as he tapped her C.V.  “You’ve not listed that sense of humor on here.” 

“It’s not always considered a positive attribute by the intelligence ministries, sir.”  Anna hesitated before she asked, “Why haven’t you hired a male assistant?” 

              “I tried that, too.”  He grimaced.  “Phillip still sends the occasional love letter.  As for you . . . .”  He looked her over from her neat chignon of auburn hair to her small feet in sensible pumps.  “You’re smart, accomplished, and very attractive.  Why aren’t you making some fortunate chap deliriously happy?”

              “I did, for a time.”  She refused to let her voice falter as she told him the rest of the lie.  “Gareth died last year, a month before we were to marry.  Leukemia.”

              Simon’s expression went from cynic to bleak.  “Oh, bloody hell.”

              “Yes, it was.  It’s also why I came to the islands, to make a fresh start.”  Anna regarded him with all the composure she could fake.  “I’m looking for a job, Mr. Denning, not love.  With all due respect to your many attractions, I buried my heart with my fiancé.  I’ve no desire to exhume the remains.”

“Very well.”  He tossed her file onto the desk as he stood and offered his hand.  “Congratulation, Ms. Kerr.  You’re hired.”

Anna completed the handshake, and felt a jolt of awareness as his fingers curled around hers.  In that moment she almost refused the job, but the only alternative she had was to return to London, and the life she’d left in ruins there.  “Thank you, sir.”

Simon startled her by bringing her knuckles to his lips.  “Someday you’ll love again, Anna.  I promise.” 

Now, as Anna emptied the kettle into the pot, she felt her cheeks flush, but not from the heat of the steaming water.  Remembering that old-fashioned, gentlemanly gesture Simon had made inevitably stirred her.  Somehow that simple touch of his mouth on her knuckles had smashed through the icy guilt encasing her heart.  Falling for him been exceedingly foolish, and she’d done her level best to conceal her feelings, but she didn’t have to wait for a someday.  She’d loved him from then on. 

If he was dating this television star with the silly name, she would accept it, just as she had all the other women he’d bedded.  His liaisons never lasted more than a few weeks anyway.

Anna prepared the tea tray and carried it into her boss’s office, where she nearly dropped it when she saw him standing at the big window overlooking the island.

Tall and deceptively lean, Simon Denning had the presence of a prince and the features of a film star.  Some distant Norse ancestor had gifted the billionaire with thick golden hair and piercing pale blue eyes that drew admiring female gazes wherever he went.  Anna always envied how well he wore his expensive suits, as if he were about step onto a runway in Paris to model them for lesser mortals.

As for what his body was like under his clothes, she could only imagine – and did, quite frequently, when she needed a little sexual relief.

“Good morning, Mr. Denning.”  She set down the tray and filled a cup before bringing it to him.  “I wasn’t expecting you so early.  Is everything all right?”

“Not exactly.”  Simon turned, shifting his weight onto the cane he’d been using since nearly being killed protecting the Prime Minister.  “There’s some chatter about the cartel planning another assassination, and Umbra is here in the islands.  This time I’m going to get him, but to do that, I need your help.”

Anna knew how determined her boss was to eliminate the notorious cartel hitman, who, in addition to shooting Simon, was responsible for dozens of deaths.  “What can I do, sir?”

He took the cup from her hands before he said, “You can go on a date with me to a kinky sex club.”

* * *

Simon saw anger flash in his secretary’s emerald-green eyes before she poured another cup of tea and sat down.  “I know what you’re thinking, Anna.  I nearly lost my leg, thanks to Umbra, and I’m in no condition to dance with him again.”

“You should still be in hospital recovering,” she said sharply, and then sighed.  “Please, sir.  Let them send someone else after him.”

“I’m the only one who has ever gotten a decent look at this bastard, so it has to be me – or us, as it happens.  The club only allows couples as guests.”  Simon saw her twist her fingers together.  “You won’t have to have actual kinky sex with me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Not at all.”  She flattened her hands against her skirt.  “It’s just that I’m not a field operative, sir.”

He limped over to his chair and sat down.  “What does that matter?”

“Mr. Denning, I am your secretary.  I type, file, and make tea.  I chase off reporters. Occasionally I pick up your dry cleaning.  I am part of the illusion that protects you from exposure.”  Her fingers trembled as she tucked a tendril of dark red hair behind her ear.  “What you need is someone more familiar with such scenarios.  Miss Saito, perhaps – she is a practicing submissive, I believe.”

“Kameko is on assignment in America, seducing some dodgy billionaire scientist,” Simon reminded her.  “All the other female operatives within range are too old, not attractive enough, or unable to break cover.”  He could see how tight her mouth was, and wondered why she was reacting so strongly to his request.  “Anna, you do know that I’m asking only because I’m desperate.  If Umbra is targeting the U.S. President—”

“Oh, of course.”  She rose and refilled his tea.  “Which kinky sex club is it again?”

“That cesspit called ‘The Whip Hand.’”  He saw the pot wobble and deftly took it from her.  “No doubt that’s why Umbra obtained a membership; he’s always been especially brutal toward women.”

Anna sat down, her pale face awash with morning light.  Simon saw how the Caribbean sun picked out the strands of copper in her hair, the amber flecks in her viridian irises, and the gold tips of her dark eyelashes, and felt his gut clench. All this time he’d been unwaveringly diligent about keeping his hands off his sweet, sad little secretary, and now he was obliged to drag her down into the muck of his spy work.  But Simon also knew if he missed this chance to take down Umbra, he might never get another – and the President of the United States could pay for it with his life.

“I know it’s dangerous, and you’re scared,” he told her gently.  “But I won’t let any harm come to you, Anna.”

“All right.”  She regarded him with her usual calm restored.  “What must I do?”

Chapter Two

              Anna had just finished applying her lipstick when she heard the Jaguar pull up to the front of her cottage, and she stepped back to take one last look at herself in the mirror.  Simon had sent over the surprisingly pretty flowered dress and sexy high-heeled sandals for her to wear.  They made her look younger than she was, but she supposed that was the point.  The more innocent she looked, the more convincing she would be as his shy submissive girlfriend – and as she thought that, she felt excitement flutter in her heart, and fear knot in her stomach.

“Stop it,” she told her reflection.  “It’s a farce, that’s all.”

Simon was waiting by the front door when Anna stepped out, and he inspected her before he nodded.  “Very nice.  You look quite dewy-eyed.”

“Thank you.”  She tried to think of something polite to say about the head-to-toe black he wore when something occurred to her.  “What if Umbra recognizes you from the assassination attempt on the P.M.?”

“He won’t.  I was undercover that day as a copper, in riot gear.  The helmet covered my face and hair.”  Simon took her arm and led her to his Jag, helping her inside before climbing in behind the wheel.  “Did you talk to Kameko about acting the part of a submissive?”

“Yes.”  Anna cringed a little as she remembered how frank the Asian operative had been with her instructions.  Kameko had also recommended Simon speak to James Gard, ex-SEAL billionaire industrialist spy who was also a practicing dominant.  “Were you able to reach Mr. Gard?”

“Indeed.  James gave me the crash course on domination.”  Simon glanced sideways at her.  “I won’t hurt you, you know.  Not ever, my dear girl.”

“I never expected that you would, sir.”  She hesitated before she asked, “If I do slip up, Kameko suggested that you correct me immediately.  Apparently it’s fairly common to see dominants discipline their submissives at these clubs.”

Simon didn’t say anything for long moment.  “You’d allow me to give you a smacking?”

“Naturally.”  She tugged at the hem of her skirt.  “As your submissive, I’m your sexual chattel.  I’m supposed to enjoy anything you do to me.”  

“But would you like it?” he asked softly.

Anna wondered how her boss would react to being smacked himself – in the head.  “I’m not doing this for my own pleasure, Mr. Denning.  I’m helping you avoid exposure in order to eliminate a dangerous target.”

“You sound like you’re MI-6 now,” Simon said.  “But you didn’t answer the question, Anna.”

              She wanted to tell him the truth, but revealing her secrets to Simon would only end badly.  “Whatever attention I do or do not enjoy from a man is none of your business, sir.”

His jaw tightened.  “It is tonight.” 

“Very well.  I suppose I am a bit of submissive.”  Anna stared out the window.  “I prefer the man to be in charge of things.  I like feeling feminine, and even a little helpless.  Is that enough, or would you like to hear details of how my dead fiancé made love to me?”

“That’s more than adequate, thank you.”  Simon slowed the Jaguar as they approached an old colonial building with blacked-out windows and armed guards flanking the front entry.   “We’re here.”

* * *

              Simon handed his keys over to a valet before he went around the car for Anna.  The dress he’d chosen for her to wear swirled around her thighs as she stepped out, and the delicious scent of her honeysuckle perfume drifted around him, warming the breath he took.

              “I’m sorry I was so snide before,” she said, looking uncertain now.  “I’m a very private person.”

              “I know that.”  When he tucked his arm around her waist he felt her flinch, and wondered if he should scrap the operation now.  “Anna, if you’d rather not—”

              “No, I’m fine,” she assured him.  “It’s only been a while since a man has touched me, well, anywhere.”

              “Not since Gareth, then?”  When she shook her head, he felt like snatching her up and kissing her breathless.  “That won’t do.  After this is over we have to get you a boyfriend, darling.”

              “Maybe I’ll find one here.”  She returned his stare with a mischievous smile.  “You should see your face right now.”

              “You may get that smacking after all.”  He guided her up to the front entry, where he gave the guard their guest pass.  The unsmiling thug patted them both down before he opened the door.

              The smell of liquor, sweat and tobacco smoke enveloped them, and once Simon’s eyes adjusted to the murky interior light, he led Anna over to a bar to buy cocktails for them.

              “Don’t drink a drop of it,” he told her as he escorted her to a small table by a stage where three half-naked women were dancing.  “Just bring it to your lips as if you are, and then pour a bit on the floor when no one is looking.”

              She looked up at the women on the stage, who were now slapping each other’s breasts, and shuddered.  “Do you see him?”

              “Umbra avoids being out in the open, so he’s likely not down here.  My guess is he’s in one of the play rooms on the second floor.” He nodded toward a blocky, dark-skinned man walking toward them.  “That’s Charles, who arranged for the guest pass.  We’ll need to convince him we’re here to play before he’ll let us go up.”

              “Well, then.”  She squared her shoulders.  “Get to it, sir.”

              “No topping from the bottom, darling.”  Simon hauled her from her chair onto his lap, and dragged her arms behind her back where he clamped one hand around her wrists.  “And don’t struggle, or I’ll give you that smacking you’ve been begging for all night, right here.”

              Looking down at the jut of her breasts made Simon’s cock stiffen, for her nipples had hardened and now plainly poked out beneath the thin, filmy fabric of the dress.  She wasn’t wearing a bra, he realized, and brought his hand up to cradle her breast with his palm to confirm it. 

              “Are you naked under this dress?” he demanded, and gave her nipple a firm tug.

              “No, sir.”  Anna reacted to his touch with a shivery sigh, and arched her back, pushing her breast against his hand.  “That feels . . . convincing.”  She darted a look at Charles as he reached them before she stared at the floor.

              “Simon, glad you could make it tonight.”  The islander’s smile widened as he looked over Anna.  “Who is this enchanting creature?”

              “I’m Cherry, sir,” Anna said in a breathy little voice. 

Simon caught her chin and made her look at him.  “Did I give you permission to speak?”  When she shook her head he glanced at Charles.  “She’s very new to the scene, unfortunately.  Would you have a more private spot I can use to discipline this cheeky little bint?”

The islander laughed.  “We got all kind of rooms, my man.  Follow me.”

Simon scooped Anna onto her feet, and then dragged her by the arm as he followed Charles up the stairs to the second floor.  There they passed by the open doors to several rooms occupied by couples and small groups of club members before they arrived at an empty room.

“You may use this one for the next hour,” the islander told them, and then caressed Anna’s cheek.  “Do you share her, Simon?  I would love to see this pretty mouth sucking my fat cock.”

Anna paled, but she quickly recovered and made a show of licking her lips.

“I’m keeping her for my own use for now, old chap,” Simon drawled.  “But when I’m done with her, I’m sure she’ll be happy to accommodate you.  She does love to have her mouth stuffed.”

“Really.”  Charles’s eyelids drooped.  “I would very much like to see that.  Have her suck you now, while I watch.”