Naked Sushi (8 page)

Ouch.

Huffing and puffing, pulse racing, I yanked off my silver-heeled kicks and then got to my feet and took off. I ran out into the hallway and looked up and down, but Ms. Sims had disappeared.

Damn.

I figured she was hiding in the bathroom, when—

There she was. Heading toward the exit. Two purple potted palms stood on either side of the private elevator.

I took off, my bare feet gliding over the plush plum carpeting so fast I was almost airborne. I was determined to grab her before she got into the elevator.

“
Stop
,
FBI!
” I shouted out. I have no idea where my courage came from to falsely identify myself as a fed, but it seemed like a good idea. I opened my purse and pulled out an expired department store credit card and flashed it under the overhead light.

Gold, it wasn’t.

Tarnished pewter, maybe.

Like my ass, if I didn’t make the collar. Talk about being in the moment, as Cindy would say. Anyway, Ms. Sims turned around and saw my feeble attempt at pulling this off.

She threw back her head and laughed. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“No joke, Ms. Sims,” I said, so close to her I could smell her revolting perfume. “I—I’m with the FBI.”

Technically, I wasn’t lying. I was
with
the feds, but I wasn’t one of them. Yet I had sense of belonging, knowing I’d helped them get the dirt on these two. I knew now Ms. Sims was the instigator and poor Mr. Briggs was her patsy. His kingdom for a lay. Why did men always fall for that stunt?

What mattered most to me was that I didn’t give up. Didn’t let my fears sidetrack me. I could do this. I got a funny chill then. A strange sense this was what Steve wanted me to feel, that I had the moxie to make it as a federal agent.

I soon discovered it wasn’t all about flashing a badge and giving a shout out.

The doors opened and Ms. Sims raced into the elevator all smiles and then pushed over a potted plant to block me from following her. Dirt flew everywhere.

“I always said you were dirt under my feet.” She jabbed the elevator buttons to make the doors close.

“You won’t sweep me away that easily,” I shot back, and then I shoved my bod through the doors seconds before they closed on my boobs.

Ms. Sims was one angry conspirator.

She smashed her palm into my face and then pulled my hair. I refused to let her petty chick move throw me off balance. I kicked her in the shin. She yelped, but that didn’t stop her. She ripped off the pin attached to the front of my low-cut dress with her claws, scratching my shoulder and making me wince.

Oh
,
yeah?
No one takes my decoder pin
.

I grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard until she dropped it. She yanked on my exposed bra strap. It broke and my breast fell out of my C-cup.

What the hell?

I wasn’t going to let a bare tit stop me.

I’d shown more skin at the sushi restaurant.

I dove at her while she tried to get the doors open; she sidestepped me. I pushed her; she shoved me back. She punched the buttons, the doors opened, she tried to get out. I tripped her. She went down like a long-legged giraffe with an angry lioness hot on its tail, her butt up in the air. I jumped on her back and straddled her before she had a chance to kick me, and then I pulled her arms back toward me and did what any good FBI agent would do if they didn’t have a plastic zip-tie.

I cuffed her with the long chain on my silver-sequined purse.

* * *

“I couldn’t have hogtied her better myself, Pepper,” Steve said, wrapping a black velvet tablecloth around my shoulders. I shivered when his hand slipped to my bare breast. Thank God, no one could see him.

“Too bad you missed the foxy catfight,” I said, loving his touch. He was giving me what I wanted and needed, and I would take down the inglorious Ms. Sims all over again if he promised not to stop.

“Thank God, you weren’t hurt,” he said. He nuzzled his face in my hair, his breath hot on the back of my neck. I got all warm and fuzzy inside, hearing his words.

He hustled me through the chaos, taking control, answering the questions thrown at us. Even in the dim light, I could see his eyes were on fire, his whole body moving in exact precision. As if he were in the heat of battle. Orchestrating the takedown of Mr. Briggs and Ms. Sims smoothly and with the expertise and know-how of a trained field agent.

That was when it hit me.

This was how an FBI agent operated in the real world, not the virtual fantasy sandbox where I played. Fool
.
I’d been so caught up in “being in the moment,” I’d turned that moment into a sideshow. I imagined the two federal agents muttering to each other that I overreacted, backed up with comments about me being a typical female, even if I did take down the target.

I dropped my chin to my chest. I was ashamed of my bravado, my tasteless theatrics. I was no closer to joining the FBI now than I’d been before tonight. The truth was, my dream seemed further away than ever.

I didn’t tell Steve how I felt. He had high hopes for me and I’d let him down. Yet I couldn’t believe how he kept me close to him, protecting me, while he barked orders to the hotel staff to serve drinks and keep the party going. The situation was intense, edgy, and the sooner they cleaned up the scene and got their prisoners out of here, the sooner everyone would forget the FBI had shown up as an uninvited guest.

Everyone except Mr. Briggs.

He couldn’t resist a parting shot at me before they took him away in handcuffs. He pulled hard to get away from the agent gripping his arm to have his say.

“You never would have caught on to me without Miss Smarty-Pants here,” he sputtered, glaring at me. If looks could kill, I was among the walking dead. “I should have fired her months ago.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I looked right back at him and didn’t blink a phony lash.

“Because you were the best programmer I ever had.” He shook his head. “Who would have thought the FBI hired agents
that
smart.”

I beamed. Damn, that felt good. My ex-boss thinking I was an agent
and
giving me the credit for his takedown.

“Briggs is right, Pepper,” Steve whispered in my ear. “It’s
your
collar.”

I nodded, loving hearing him say that. But this was no cop show. I had stepped through the fourth wall tonight and become part of the real world. I could no longer hide behind my glasses. Nor did I want to.

“That doesn’t mean the next time I want you running around cuffing suspects half-naked,” Steve continued, his voice stern. We headed toward the parking garage, the party chatter and clinking glasses behind us, the plush gold-and-red carpeting under my bare feet masking our footsteps. “The Bureau has rules about that.”

“The next time?” I asked, my pulse racing.

“Fighting white-collar crime is important business, Pepper,” he said, “and you’ve got the talents the Bureau is looking for.”

“What about my employment record? Ms. Sims deleted everything.” I kept pace with him, stretching my neck to keep my head level with his chin, emphasizing my height sans heels as if to prove to him I was no slouch. That I could fight cybercrime and keep the workplace safe for all of us who sit down at a computer every morning and log on with a cup of java and a Twitter addiction.

“A few phone calls to the right sources and we’ll have your job record cleared,” he said. “
And
your back-unemployment checks.”

“You forgot one thing,” I said, hating to bring it up. “I’ve got a record with the FBI.”

Steve grinned. “After what you did for the investigation tonight, I can convince Jordan to make sure there’s no account of you slamming me on the back of the neck. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she pushed your paperwork through pronto.”

I smiled. Jordan. His sexy boss. Cool.

“We’ll get you set up for the second phase of testing,” he continued, “and when you pass—”

I loved hearing that. His words gave me the confidence I would need to get through the process.

“—I don’t see why you can’t start your training at the academy with the next class.” Steve paused in the dark stairway and kissed me. Not sexy. Deeper than that. Soulful. Caring. Something I always wanted but never had. “On
one
condition, Miss O’Malley.”

“What’s that?” I breathed, knowing I’d agree to anything with his lips so close to mine, his hand playing with my bare breast under the black velvet.

“You have to follow the rules of the game.”

“Like you do?” I asked.

He smiled, but he didn’t answer me.

“Do you agree?” he said, leading me to his unmarked car. Double-parked.

“Yes.”

Keep it simple. No wordy explanations, no begging.

“And you’re sure you have what it takes to be a special agent?” he asked, unlocking the passenger door.

“Yes.”

“There’s no stopping you, no matter what they throw at you?”

“No.” My heart was racing, drawing all my reserve together to keep focused, make my dream crystallize.

He jumped into the car. I followed. “Then be at my place tomorrow night at eight o’clock sharp.” He gunned the engine and sexy vibrations zapped through me like I was hot-wired. My libido went from zero to ninety in a heartbeat. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

He gave me the address in his clipped, agentlike manner, not repeating it, expecting me to set each word in my mind and not forget it.

“I’ll be there,” I told him. He smiled and then jammed his old Buick out of the underground parking garage like Batman on a mission. I held on tight.

Boy, will I.

Chapter Seven

Eight o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

Steve laid out the tools of his trade in a precise manner, taking care to make certain the sake was cooled to room temperature, the linen ropes smooth and pliable, the roses’ effusive scent intoxicating.

And his dick hard.

He didn’t have to worry about that. His groin tightened, his breath quickened. He remembered how his agent-in-training moved when he was in her, her back dipping instinctively to meet him as he drove her home. Him yearning to finger her in her most secret place. Her knowing only that the burn between her legs intensified with each stroke. Moaning like a slave begging her master to take her. To fuck her. Her pleasure mixed with her curiosity, like sipping fine wine from a king’s silver goblet. The taste was made sweeter by the experience.

Steve tied the rope into an intricate knot, winding it this way and that. Precise, its artistry appealing to the eye. Cool to the skin. Such a knot would make Pepper squirm when he wrapped it around her breasts and then pulled on it. Gently, then harder...making it tighter. Making her moan. He couldn’t wait to see her breasts standing up, her nipples erect.

He looked at the clock. Ten minutes before eight.

Would she be on time?

Or would she run from the challenge?

He imagined she was filled with apprehension, her emotions over the top, her heart pounding.

Her juices flowing.

He was betting on her avid curiosity to break down any resistance. Especially after she’d had a taste of what she could do when she’d taken down Sims.
And
Briggs. Using the computer files and taped confession secured “from a reliable source” as evidence, he’d had no trouble getting a search warrant to raid the offices of Seymour T. Briggs for paper documents and additional computer files relevant to the ongoing investigation.

All that was left to wrap things up was to bring Pepper into the Bureau.

Steve knew what he was getting into. He was putting himself on the line, something he’d never done before. But she’d changed his mind about training a woman with the techie mind of a computer programmer. She was soft and curvy and all female. She’d impressed him with her raw talent and sex-on-top-of-the-copier routine. She was a natural. He couldn’t wait to begin her training. Not every woman would consent to enjoy the erotic evening he had planned.

He had no doubt Pepper would.

Her big green eyes staring at him, her full, pink lips parted in wonder, her high cheekbones finely sculpted. Innocent, but as sexy as all get-out. His mind flipped through his mental notes again as he’d done every night since he met her.

Tall. Big breasts. Great legs.

Long, flyaway hair that shimmered red-gold like a never-ending sunset.

But there was more to her than her gorgeous bod.

Her curiosity amazed him. Her smarts challenged him. And her brazenness charmed him. In a world of spies and counterspies, secrets and lies that often left him frustrated and disillusioned, Pepper was the one real thing he could count on. A woman who said what she meant and looked damned sexy saying it. No regrets, no teasing a man until he couldn’t walk straight and then dropping him like a hot poker. She played it straight. Shot from the hip. And fit into his arms perfectly, her head snuggled against his chest, his arms snaked around her beautiful curves.

He couldn’t tell her how he felt. Not yet. First, he had to get her into the spy game.

And then?

It was up to her.

He was convinced Pepper had a bright future at the Bureau.
If
she could learn to trust her instincts and believe in herself. Years of self-doubt had wound themselves around her ego like a tight rope. Taut and unbreakable in her mind. Choking her ambition. That was where
he
came in.

Steve had planned this special evening to give her that confidence.

He had concealed his feelings well, giving small hints of his intentions toward her. Why not? She fit the profile of a good special agent. Reading body language. Going on the offensive when confronted with a difficult situation. Not backing down.

He’d never forget how she yelled out “
Stop
,
FBI!
” in a loud, convincing voice. He had to smile. He could imagine her racing after the elusive Ms. Sims, Pepper’s big breasts bouncing up and down. Christ, he couldn’t contain himself when he’d caught up to her and saw her beautiful tit exposed, her pointed nipple tempting him. His first instinct was to take her hard bud into his mouth and suck on it.

He would have if they’d been alone.

They weren’t.

His two backup agents couldn’t take their eyes off her. Steve had ripped a black velvet cloth off a table and wrapped it around her. He still remembered her soft mewling, her head against his shoulder. Then they did a fist bump. It was a moment he’d never forget. He’d ignored his cell phone ringing. Jordan. His only thought: protect Pepper at all costs. For the first time in his career, he let his heart rule his head
.
He knew that wasn’t how an undercover agent acted, that getting too close to the witness often led to guilt feelings if there was any screwup.

The only guilt he felt was putting her in danger without the proper training.

He’d soon fix that. He’d run her through the drill. Give her the opportunity to learn how to deal with any situation. Meanwhile, his team had Briggs in custody. And Pepper had Ms. Sims tied up like a prize pig ready for market.

He grinned. Tied up.

Yes, that was the idea.

Steve let the rose petals drift through his fingers onto the bed covered with satin sheets as shiny as black cod. The cedar fragrance of the
hinoki
wood headboard blended with the floral essence, while the velvety softness of the petals reminded him of that delightful spot between her legs. That special place where he could let himself go—something he never did, even when fucking a woman. He didn’t dare. Always on the alert, always ready for trouble, Steve never dreamed
anyone
could make him let down his guard.

Pepper did. She made him laugh. Something he hadn’t done in years.

He held his breath in anticipation of the moment when he’d again pull her jeans down to her knees. Then slip his hand between her thighs and press one, then two fingers inside her. Stroke her clit, explore her. Then make her his.

Christ
.

His mouth went dry. To quench his thirst, he grabbed the bottle of sake and tilted his head back, the cool drink sliding down his throat.
Smooth.
Rich.
Its lingering sweetness left a pleasant, fruity taste in his mouth.
Perfect
. The rice wine was the nectar of the gods. And she was his goddess.

What if she didn’t show?

He wouldn’t believe that.
Couldn’t
.

Tension filled him as he held the glass bottle in his hand, running his fingers up and down its slender neck. Its rounded bottom was curvy, like a woman’s. Like Pepper. But she was more than a wildly, tempting invitation to sex. She was special to him. No one in his life was like her. Sure, he’d had women. Sexy, beautiful women. But none could compare to Pepper O’Malley.

The doorbell rang.

It was five minutes
before
eight. Steve smiled.

For tonight, he had one mission.

Make her cry out with pleasure.

Over and over again.

* * *

The rope pressed into me and hit my clit spot on.

I clenched my muscles tight. God, that burned. But wonderfully so. I did it again, shocked by my own brashness. I was right about Steve acting like a man used to tying women up. Did I hit the mark. I didn’t pride myself on having insight into how men’s brains worked except when it came to computers, but I tapped into the intimate desires of this man bound by strong beliefs that bordered on kink.

But oh, what kink.

I was nude, lying on my back. Red rose petals scattered on my breasts, belly, and thighs, a thick white rug hugging my body like a sensuous cloud. I breathed in a fragrant mist delivered from a bubbling fountain scenting the air around me. Whatever fears I had when I stepped into his world were gone. I was bathed in muted backlighting and—

Tied up.

Naked sushi
à
la bondage.

When I arrived, my FBI hottie had wasted no time ordering me to strip while he watched. When I asked him why, he told me a special agent should be prepared for physical inspection at any time.

I blushed. His request had an intimacy about it that surprised me. Turned me on. As if he were seeing me naked for the first time.

I nodded and obeyed.

First my tee came off, then my bra and best jeans with the rhinestone buttons. When I stood nude in front of him, he said nothing. Instead, he pressed his palm against my pubic area, cupping then squeezing me. Not hard. Just enough to set off tiny tremors in me.

His gesture took my breath away. I couldn’t move.

Then his cool hands stroked my thighs, sending a chill through me before he moved upward and caressed my breasts. His fingertips lingered on my pert nipples before pinching them so hard I couldn’t help but cry out, the painful pleasure startling but pleasing.

I was already wet when his hand dropped to my buttocks, kneading my soft flesh before moving to my thighs, parting them and slipping his finger inside me. I began to move against him, but he insisted I wasn’t ready yet and removed his finger without giving me the satisfaction of having him stroke my clit.

Wanting, needing, crazed with desire, I fell into his arms without resisting when he picked me up and carried me into a spa with a sunken tub. I held him tight around the neck. He liked that and smiled at me. Then he bathed me with unscented soap, taking a soft white cloth and rubbing me from head to toe. Warm water seeped into my pores when he drizzled the soapy suds down the crack of my butt and the backs of my legs.

“You’re beautiful, Pepper,” he said, pulling the cloth between my legs and hitting the nerve-rich area around my perineum. I arched my back, a pleasurable moan escaping from my lips. “And so sexy.”

“Nobody ever called me sexy,” I said, spreading my legs and shuddering with pleasure when he ran the rough texture of the cloth over my vaginal lips and then parted them with his fingers. He rubbed the cloth back and forth across my clit, making it burn. “Mmm...I like that.”

“You’ll like this more.” He moved up my belly, then my rib cage, washing my breasts, swirling the cotton ringlets of the cloth around them until they glowed pink. I pushed out my chest. He didn’t disappoint me. He pulled on my nipples, making them pointy and erect, then let them go. “Your nipples are perfect for—”

“Nibbling on?” I asked, hoping, waiting.

“Soaping up.” He reached under my breasts and cupped them in his strong hands, my nipples pointing straight ahead. Begging for him to put his mouth on the hard buds, one then the other, sucking. I couldn’t stop looking at him, watching his hands holding my breasts, massaging my flesh. I could see behind his dark eyes how aware he was of my response to him. And that aroused him.

Teasing, he lathered up his hands and then capped my erect nipples with translucent soapsuds, pinching them between his thumbs and forefingers long and hard until I could stand it no more. Still, he didn’t suck on them. He called it the “Spartan touch.” Indulging in foreplay but denying me pleasure until the right moment. Expending his energy on making me want more but giving me only enough to keep me in a limbo of anticipation.

The game took on new meaning when he cooled me down with a tepid shower so my body temperature was ready for—

“Sushi,” he said, explaining this was one meal I’d never forget.

Then he began tying me up.

Stroking me with the long, white rope. Slapping it on my butt with a pleasant sting and then sliding it down between my thighs in a slow crawl before bringing it upward and twisting it around my breasts. Pulling on my nipples until they peaked. Long, lustful minutes passed as my mind worked overtime, wondering when,
when
he would speak.

Not a word.

I lay stretched out on the white rug, waiting. Watching as he secured my wrists together and then executed intricate knots around my waist, breasts and thighs. The taut pressure made me aware of my body and heightened my senses. Every time I tugged on the rope, it squeezed my breasts, making me moan.

I’d never felt so vulnerable, lying here, my bod bound with soft rope. Yet I also sensed an aura of security, as if Steve was protecting me by tying me up. I didn’t understand why I felt this way and that bugged me. But the delicious sensations filling me up pushed any doubt from my mind.

“Not too tight?” he asked, pulling on the linen rope encircling my waist, under my breasts and around my thighs.

“No,” I mumbled, dreamlike. I relished the subtle strength of his power when he tugged on the end of the rope, pulling me toward him but not to him.

A show of dominance, reminding me
he
controlled my movements.

I wiggled, or tried to, but nothing moved except my breasts. His skillful rope-tying around my orbs forced my breasts to stand up and not flatten out, my nipples waving at attention, hard and taut. Glancing down, the sight of my body squirming but powerless added to my growing feeling of arousal.

“I can’t move,” I said, grunting and straining at the ropes.

“Good.”

“Does that turn you on?”

A sly smile eased the tension on his face. “That’s not the objective.”

“Then what is?”

“You’ll find out.” Steve brushed my cheek with his lips, but nothing more, keeping me wanting. It was most definitely a nipple hardener.

A cool, new sensation wiggled through me when Steve arranged the sushi on my body. No food porn, he said; no oysters that looked like vaginas or raw salmon with the taste and texture of my nether lips.

Instead, on my belly he arranged buttery yellowfin that would dissolve on his tongue. Crimson tuna crowning my nipples, and purple-hued octopus tendrils swirling around my breasts.