Own (Command Force Alpha #1) (14 page)

Letting go on dipshits had been a quick, easy way to fit right in. Kat seemed ready to spring free.

“Timmy’s not a douche,” she said sweetly. “That’s rude. But I shouldn’t expect anything like politeness from a caveman like you. So get used to it. I’m keeping my fucking money, caveman.”

She stepped back into an unusual stance, one that made Evan do a double take. She’d mentioned that the colonel had taught her Krav Maga, but Evan hadn’t really believed it. Katsu? Proficient in the Israeli martial art? Then again, no way would Nicky Stafford let his only, beloved daughter take the public bus to school every day without some means of self-defense. Might as well be the style most likely to use everyday implements as weapons—implements like a pool cue.

With her weight on her back foot and both knees in a loose, deep stance for balance, she twirled the cue in an intimidating arc of swirls and twists. “Am I walking out of here, caveman, or are you gonna get hauled out by a couple tired EMTs?”

“Jap cunt bitch,” Matt snarled. “Get the hell outta my face.”

The portion of Evan’s attention he’d had monitoring the unknown suspect sipping PBR jerked completely toward Matt and growled with the need to do harm. It was all Evan could do to stay still. Fuck. Letting Kat run the show, keeping her safe from three steps away, was killing him. To hear her insulted like that made him ache to turn this guy Matt’s face into a pile of hamburger.

“Thanks ever so much.” She smiled, daring them. Evan was about ready to strangle her himself, no matter how entertaining it was to see a few assholes taken down a dozen pegs. “I think I’ll keep this.”

She strolled over to Evan and slipped her arm through his.

“You through?” he asked, throat on fire.

“Yup.”

“Seven demerits.”

“Totally worth it.”

His anticipation bordered on painful. He needed to rein it in if he was going to control the night—no,
because
he was going to control the night.

They casually, carefully made their way to the pool hall’s exit. Evan kept an eye on the mirrored bar back. The man was still watching them—but so was everyone else in the joint. Kat held that pool cue in one hand. She gave it to the bartender just before they reached the door. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was a thousand horrible things finally exploding into a moment of
fun
, but they hit the night air and took off running. Her boots clacked on the sidewalk and on the gravel of a few back alleys. If Matt and his thugs pursued them, Evan would be surprised beyond reason. They were just as Kat had predicted—all talk and no dick. In the morning Evan would have to tell Katsu about his suspicions that they’d been followed, but not yet.

Not yet.

Instead, the laughing run he and Kat shared bordered on manic. They were only about three blocks from the safe house.

Thumbprint scan. Steel-reinforced door. Downstairs.

Evan scooped Kat into his arms and kissed her. It was a hard, possessive kiss, unlike any they’d ever shared—not even years before, when they’d seemed so fearless in their loving. Exactly the opposite. They’d been desperate. Their passion had been born of fear and the constant need to look over their shoulders in hidden hotel rooms.

What if Dad finds out?

What if the colonel finds out?

This
was man and woman. Evan and Kat. They were equally as desperate, but for different reasons. It was pure want, and a level of curiosity he’d never experienced. How far could he push her? How much could they both take before they snapped, or before Kat giggled, or the game ended?

Thing was, when he pushed his tongue into her willing mouth, again and again, it didn’t feel like a game at all. This was even more life-and-death than bedding down in the safe house.

He shoved his hand down her top, between bra and skin, and grabbed the wad of bills. On a fit of laughter, she took the money and tossed it in the air. Twenties and hundreds rained over them in a bar-sticky flutter.

“You’re picking that up later,” he said against her smiling mouth. “On your hands and knees.”

“It’ll drive you fu—” She clamped her lips together. “It’ll drive you nuts.”

“I’m impressed.” In truth he was. There was no losing in this situation. If she cussed, she got another spank. If she refrained…he’d won. “Afraid of adding to your tally?”

“No.” Her voice was surprisingly hushed. She lifted her eyes. Yes, her gaze revealed the heat he expected, as well as the unexpected mirth. But there was also a surprising need for more. “It’s still unfair that you get to. But…I really do want to be good.”

Their conversation from the car came slamming back like a punch, dead center to Evan’s brow. She needed approval, and she needed someone there to witness when she made an effort—when she made order out of her chaotic life. That she trusted him with that privilege, and frankly, with that responsibility, was humbling in ways he didn’t want to examine. Not when they had better things to do.

“I like hearing that, Katsu-kan. But you know what needs to happen now.”

“The same as before?”

“The same, except I want your hands at the base of your back. Use those gorgeous legs of yours and hold your balance against the armrest.”

He could see the change register behind her eyes, as if hearing her thoughts, learning how she planned to make his command a reality. It was hypnotizing.

Evan forced himself to set her down. She walked to the couch, those hips still swishing. She was doing it on purpose. He could find a reason to punish her for it, but that would mean no more swishing ass. Letting her flirt while indulging a gorgeous view didn’t fall within the category of disobedience.

She pulled her leggings down to her knees and repeated the process with her panties. He liked that she didn’t touch the hem of her shirt. That hadn’t been part of his initial demand. With a deep breath that brought her breasts into stunning profile, she braced her hips against the armrest and widened her feet, wiggling back and forth on both to gain the right balance. She laced her fingers together at the base of her spine.

And bent over.

Evan stood motionless, admiring what he’d wrought. To be fair, they’d created that tableau together. His command. Her obedience. That didn’t detract from the electric hit of power he got as he admired the curve of her ass and the determined set of her chin. She wouldn’t fall. He knew that like he knew his own name and the smell of her skin. He could hit as hard as he wanted. Her stubborn determination meant she wouldn’t budge.

God, he loved that.

He moved into position, rubbing a steadying hand down the front of his jeans. He hadn’t been this hard in…nah, wasn’t worth thinking about. Thought was for Katsu. For taking her will and bending it to his.

“Count them out. Understand?”

“Yes.”

A deep part of him wanted her to address him as
Sir
.
Yes, Sir.
What would that sound like coming from Katsu—not sarcastically, but if she really meant it? He shuddered. And he unzipped his fly.

She inhaled quietly. Her fingers tightened. Evan waited with a hand on his cock where it throbbed inside his briefs, for her to make some noise of protest. None came.

She was a marvel.

He prepared himself with a deep breath, then let his hand fly toward her ass.

“One,” she said on a sharp gasp. “Two. Three!”

Evan’s hand stung. Her ass was already red. “Is that all you got for me, smart mouth? No? Answer.”

“I’ll do what you tell me. Nothing more.”

There was defiance in her voice, with equal part relief. The woman who’d just sharked three Southie thugs and threatened bodily harm with a pool cue, the woman who’d run block after block and tossed a thousand bucks in the air like confetti—she was relieved that he was in charge.

Goddamn, he was relieved too.

He smacked her again.

“Four. Five!”

That last almost cost her. In profile, Evan watched as she bit her lip. A single tear trailed from the sharp corner of her eye. He leaned around to sip it from her skin.

With instant clarity, he knew what would happen next. She would be pissed as hell when she realized what he meant to do, but that had its potential rewards. He wanted her fight just before he craved her submission.

He fished a condom out of his back pocket. It fit tightly, stretched over his straining length. Kat’s back lifted and lowered on faster breaths. He reached around and pulled her shirt up over her head. She kept her hands firmly planted, as ordered, which meant her shirt tangled around her elbows. He left the bra on, because he liked keeping her guessing.

“How many left, Katsu?”

“Two.”

“Good.” His voice had lost that calm quality. He was nearly as breathless. That breathlessness sank into a moan when he entered her, slowly, but with the sure arrogance that his cock belonged there, sheathed in her hot wetness. “Very good.”

“Oh fuck,” she whispered.

Evan grinned tightly. “Add one more. That’s three. Three good slaps and three good thrusts. I’ll be finished with you by then.”

“Done?” The word was sharp and rang with disbelief. “Don’t you dare—”

He grabbed a fistful of hair and accentuated his power with three thrusts. “Okay, maybe more than three. But I’m going to come, Katsu.”

“What about…?”

“What?” She didn’t answer, so Evan fucked her with another pair of hard strokes. “Open your gorgeous mouth and finish that question.”

She moaned softly, arching back against him. “What about me?”

“Who said this was for you? Punishment can take all forms, Kat.”

He relished the way her neck dropped and black hair concealed her face—as if she’d given in and he could have his way. But this wasn’t all about him. He’d taken them this far, and he intended to take them a lot further. Her submission, when it was real and complete, would flatten them both.

He hadn’t known he could edge a woman the way he did Katsu. Slow. Deep. Demanding. Her clit was rubbing against the armrest. She must be as crazy with want as he was. He dragged it out as long as he could, switching up the rhythm, never letting her find the release she quietly sobbed for. She never said another word, but those sobs were wordless pleas.

Finally, when
he
was ready, he braced his hands on the armrests and fucked. Jesus, God, Christ Almighty, it felt good to let go. And he still owed her a trio of slaps. That thought was enough to take him right to the edge.

“Three more,” he ground out. “Count them off.”

He lifted his hand, then smacked with all his pent-up tension, all his passion and desire.

“Six. Seven.”

“I’m coming, Katsu,” he said, that calm back in his voice as the first waves of orgasm began to overtake him. “I’m coming. And you… Ah,
God
. You’ll have to work for yours.”

Smack.

“Eight!”

And Evan exploded.

Chapter Thirteen

Kat bit back the whine that tried to work its way from her stomach upward. She bowed her head low. It wasn’t even that he’d come, so much as that he’d stopped fucking her. Every cell in her body cried out with how damn unfair it was. An unending stream of cusswords wrenched through her brain. They started with
goddamn motherfucker
and spiraled on to phrases that would probably earn double demerits.

She was half tempted to let them loose, just to feel his big, hot hand on her ass. The smack wasn’t important because of the pain. It was the attention. She’d felt every ounce of his will driving through his palm.

She freed a moan. Her hips writhed against the arm of the couch. She found pressure, over and over, but the counterpoint of Evan’s cock, still stretching her deep inside, was motionless.

He gripped her hips. “Stop it, Katsu-kun.”

She stilled. Instantly. There was no point in examining what that meant because
ugh
. She didn’t want to go down this road. Sex. With Evan. She
couldn’t
. This was just an outlet of stress. They were different when they were a couple, and those people weren’t meant to be a couple at all.

When she was alone, she didn’t miss him. Of course not. After all, he didn’t need her. This was…temporary. As soon as everything was back to normal, they’d return to their Venn-diagram lives, where their only intersection was her father and the danger both men dipped into regularly.

That had its own weight and problems.

“Please,” she breathed. “I need…”

“I know exactly what you need.” He smoothed a hand down her back, skimming over her half-removed shirt and making her shoulders twitch. His fingers spread wide over the base of her spine, just above where her own hands were stacked. He had such strong hands. Sure hands.

He pushed her down, down farther, until her breasts rubbed the nap of the couch’s rough upholstery. The safe house contained nothing outwardly new. She’d put the couch at somewhere close to forty years old. The orange-and-yellow-leaf scheme gave it away. But she knew CFA and the way they worked. The furniture had probably been steam cleaned and disinfected within an inch of disintegrating, or Evan wouldn’t have trusted her skin to it.