Running With the Devil (15 page)

He doubted Kenna had told Marissa about last night, so he played dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Your meeting with Cortez, which is all you were really after from her anyway. Happy now?”

His temper flared. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “She’s
my
friend, Mayhaven. I know her a lot better than you do.”

“Some friend,” he sneered back, “selling her
tour guide
expertise to the highest bidder. What’s your cut?”

Marissa fumed.

“Just tell me where she is.”

“You know, I don’t think I will. I don’t like you and I don’t trust you. Besides, since you seem to think you’re so damn clever, figure it out yourself.”

Marissa disappeared into the masses like smoke.

Kenna had probably high-tailed it to the rendezvous point. He scanned the immediate vicinity just in case and his gaze landed on the curtained off area.

What the hell was the demo room about, anyway? Despite his wariness, he’d better take a quick spin inside so he could detail it in his report.

At his hard look, the bouncer moved aside without arguing.

Just inside the door, he went utterly still.

Surely Kenna hadn’t gone in there alone?

Kenna wanted to punch any man who assumed because she’d dressed provocatively they had every right to touch her. No wonder she normally hid her body under baggy clothes. Invisibility was much safer.

She managed a tight smile for the bouncer guarding the door to the demo room. Surely he wouldn’t frisk her too? He merely nodded as she ducked under the heavy swag and stepped inside.

The sweet scent of pot smoke lingered in the humid air. For a second Kenna worried the secretive demo room was a place to try different types of drugs—until she caught sight of a skinny woman on her knees, noisily sucking a big burly biker’s cock.

The man groaned, grabbed the woman’s head and began plunging in and out of her mouth with unrestrained gusto. With his pants around his knees, the chains holding his wallet and knife jingled with every hard thrust.

Kenna froze, unable to tear her gaze away as the man groaned and raced to the finish as the woman sucked and swallowed and made happy sounding moans.

Much as she hated to admit it, a tiny kernel of heat settled in her core. She forced herself to move forward.

Five feet away from the blowjob couple, a man sat on a hard-backed chair with a naked woman straddled across his thighs. Her long brown hair teased the crack of her tiny butt as she threw her head back in ecstasy. She lifted and lowered, using her silver stiletto heels on the chair rungs beneath the seat for leverage as she impaled herself on his cock.

The man grinned and squirted a gel-like substance—from a penis- shaped bottle no less—on her nipples. Taking her enormous breasts in his hands, he squeezed the globes together, dragged his tongue across the tops. When she moaned, he sucked, licked and bit her nipples as she began to ride him harder.

Fascinated, Kenna wasn’t able to scurry away so quickly this time. As the couple climaxed—together naturally—the crowd applauded. Surprised her they didn’t get up and take a bow.

Still, what would it be like to be that uninhibited? Her thoughts zoomed back to last night with Drake. She hadn’t exactly been Miss Prim and Proper.

A young guy wearing a pinstriped, double-breasted suit stepped in front of the couple. “For those of you who’ve just joined us, Dante and Cheyenne have generously demonstrated our product Cold Heat.” He held up the bottle. “Icy cold when first placed on the skin. As friction is applied, it warms, creating a delicious contrast. It’s available in cinnamon and mint flavors at the sales counter at the back of the tent.”

People began milling to the next demonstration. She hung back, her eyes frantically searching for the exit.

God. She felt like
Alice in Wonderland
meets John Holmes in
Wonderland
: She’d walked into the world’s largest porn movie.

“First time here?” an amused male asked.

Kenna spun around and backed up, tripping in the heels. The professionally dressed guy hawking the Cold Heat grabbed her elbow, keeping her from falling on her ass.

He smiled. “Relax. I’m JJ Jameson, head of PR for Joysticks.”

“What exactly is this place?”

“A place for consenting adults to see a demonstration of Joysticks’ latest toys and newest products. Any other questions?”

After a slight hesitation she blurted, “Are the couples doing the presentations…umm…”
Real mature, stuttering and stammering.

JJ lifted a dark brow. “Professionals? No. Just enthusiastic customers with a streak of exhibitionism. Why, are you interested in doing a demonstration?”

Kenna blushed.

“I’m kidding. When you make your way to the back, check out the selection of vibrators. And in the bondage garden we’ve got a helluva sale on paddles.”

She frowned. “For boating?”

“No. For spanking.”

Wow. People really did that? She knew Drake would never hit her and it’d be a cold day in hell before he let her have control. A snort escaped before she stopped it.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” JJ warned.

“No judgment from me. It’s just the guy I’m with, well, he’s pretty dominant. Not in a bad way.” Shoving aside her embarrassment, she asked, “So if I wanted to show him my dominant side what product would you suggest?”

JJ grinned. “This.” He jiggled a small, sealed bottle of Cold Heat. “Guaranteed to drive even the most controlling man out of his mind.”

“Where can I buy it?”

He took her hand, placed the bottle in her palm and gently curled her fingers around it. “On the house. Enjoy.” With a mock bow, he departed to hock more wares.

Kenna scoped the place out and decided since she was here, she might as well enjoy herself. Maybe
enjoy
was the wrong word. Not shrink like a prude and run for the nearest exit.

With determination, she marched up to the next presentation and learned way more than she’d ever wanted to know about vibrators. Big thick ones. Long skinny ones. Glass ones. Smooth ones shaped like animals. Some tiny enough to wear on a single finger. Remote control models. The enormous one with ridges and bumps looked too much like studded snow tires and quite frankly, scared the crap out of her. But the ones with the clit vibration attachment had intriguing possibilities. And the woman demonstrating seemed to prefer that model, if her moans of satisfaction were any indication of quality.

As she wandered, she noticed she wasn’t the only spectator unbelievably turned on. Several couples had taken matters into their own hands and were going at it right on the canvas floor. Missionary style. Doggy style. Sixty-nine. Threesomes in every combination. Moans, groans, grunts, sighs of completion. Aromas of heat and sex filled the sweltering air. She breathed deeply, letting it wash through her like a sultry breeze.

Kenna clenched her thighs together. Her sex throbbed in time to the bass thumping from the loudspeakers. Beneath her top, her nipples contracted. Her skin tingled. She wished for relief from the hot sexual ache invading her body. Staying in here another moment surrounded by people wallowing in hedonistic pleasure when she couldn’t wasn’t fair.

Dammit, she wanted, she
deserved
that same mindless, passionate connection. But she didn’t want to join in and trust her body to a stranger. She wanted Drake.

Now that he’d gotten his meeting with Tito Cortez and had the information he needed, would he let her go?

Yes.

Kenna still wanted him, just one more time. She wanted more of the delicious heat that exploded when they were within five feet of each other.

Yet, her pride didn’t
want
to want Drake. And realistically she knew he didn’t want her. The real her. Kaye Anne. It’d be best to make a clean break. Grab her stuff from the motel and forget the last two days had ever happened.

Tossing the bottle in her purse, she ducked out the side exit and practically ran to their prearranged rendezvous point.

As she picked her way back to the campsite where she and Drake were meeting, she heard the roar of the crowd and the deafening thunder of thousands of motorcycles as ZZ Top took the stage. Guitar riffs wailed and people hustled past her to catch the show.

The campground was mostly deserted now, as it was the prime time for partying. She fought her nerves, as it wasn’t the smartest move wandering through the area alone. Should she have waited for Drake outside the party tent?

No. He’d shown he didn’t give a crap about whether or not men pawed at her. She didn’t need his brand of protection anyway.

Still, it paid to be alert. She focused her attention on the uneven terrain and piles of paper, cans and bottles littering the landscape. It’d be her luck to break her damn ankle traipsing through this cow pasture, especially since there weren’t lights out this far.

Kenna had just spied the tent with a white flag and motorcycle when a big hand clamped on her shoulder. Furious that anyone else dared to touch her, she spun and let her fist connect with something solid. Blindly, she swung again, lower. Another direct hit. She’d fight; no other man would put his hands on her without her permission tonight.

She aimed higher, hoping for a headshot, but this time the blow was blocked and her attacker latched onto her wrist.

“Jesus, you little hellcat. Would you knock it off?”

She froze. “Drake?”

“Who the hell else were you expecting?”

She wrenched her wrist from his grasp. “After the night I’ve had you think I’m gonna take any chances?”

He stepped closer, rubbing his jaw. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

Anger rose and she punched him in the arm hard enough he felt it and hard enough her knuckles smarted.

Anger sparked in his eyes. “Don’t hit me again.”

“Or you’ll what?” she taunted. “Hit me back?”

“For christsake no. What kind of man do you think I am?”

Kenna retreated, willing her heart to drop back into a normal rhythm. “You aren’t the man I thought you were, that’s for damn sure.”

Drake loomed over her. “What are you talking about?”

“You know
exactly
what I’m talking about.” Sick of being pushed around, she pushed back. Didn’t even faze him. Which kicked her resentment up another notch.

“Yeah, you’re some great guy, some great protector, Agent March, letting those asshole bouncers feel me up, while you watched and did nothing.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw but he stayed dangerously silent.

“And then, when you’d repeatedly warned me about staying away from Tito Cortez, when that bastard pulled me onto his lap, you stood back there like a statue and did nothing again.” Her lungs strained under the effort of her rapid, angry breaths, but she forced the cruel words out anyway. “You probably got off on it, you perv, since highhanded is your style.”

“That’s enough.”

“I’ll say. Call Bobby and Geo. I want to go home.” Truer words had never been spoken. All she wanted was to crawl into her cool sheets in her tiny little apartment, jerk her grandmother’s wedding ring quilt over her head and pretend the last two days were a bad dream. She clenched her jaw and blinked back the tears of humiliation and frustration burning her eyes.

“No.”

Kenna’s head whipped up. She swallowed hard at the raw fury darkening his face.

“You finished?” he asked coolly. “Because I’ve got something to say.”

She managed a slight nod before she looked away. God. She really didn’t want to hear his excuses.

“As an agent I’ve been doing this long enough that I know how to react when situations get out of control. I have to be adaptable, Kenna. I have to stay levelheaded at all times, especially when the unexpected happens. About ninety percent of the time ops don’t play out the way we’ve planned. My job is to assess the situation and salvage whatever part of it I can without compromising my position.”

Wasn’t
your
position that was compromised,
she thought mulishly.

“But when that greasy bouncer put his hands on you…”

Her gaze snapped back to his.

“As a man, I wanted to rip his fucking arms from the sockets. But instead I had to stand there and pretend I didn’t give a shit. I had to stand there and watch him enjoy humiliating you.” His bitter laugh cut through the night air. “Oh, and to make my night complete, I had to pretend it didn’t bother me that a slimeball like Tito Cortez touched you like he had every right to.”

“Drake—”

“Let me finish.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ve had to make some tough decisions, but I’ve always felt they were the right ones at the time. Tonight is no exception. I had no choice. I know you don’t understand. I know you’re hurt that I didn’t do a damn thing to stop those bastards.”

Frustration sent him pacing. Finally he stopped, threw his hands in the air and said, “Fuck! I’m sorry, okay? It’s my job and it sucks but if I had to do it over again, I’d probably do the same thing. And I have to live with that unpleasant fact about myself every goddamn day. I also have to live with the haunted look in your eyes and know that my decision put it there.”

Kenna couldn’t speak she was so stunned. It wasn’t that Drake didn’t have a protective streak; it just didn’t matter as much as his pursuit of justice. The anguish in his eyes was real. Why did she have the urge to go to him, wrap her arms around him and murmur reassuring words when
she
was the one who’d been hurt?

Because he was hurting too. Despite everything he’d done, everything he was, she’d fallen for him.

Oh shit. She’d never been in worse trouble in her life and it had nothing to do with the IRS, the local cops, her academic standing or the low balance in her checking account.

Her heart started racing like a jackrabbit caught in a snare. And just like that scared little rabbit, she turned and ran.

Of course, Drake, being predatory in nature, only let her get about ten feet before he cornered her. He wrapped his arm around her middle, bringing her body flush with his.

Softness met hardness.

She withheld a moan as lust slammed into her like a rockslide.

His chin dug into the place where neck met shoulder and his deep voice reverberated in her ear. “Remember what happened the last time you ran from me?” He set his teeth on the tender skin of her nape, knowing it’d drive her wild.

Chills started in that sensitive spot and spread. She moaned, automatically pressing her backside into him.

Drake flipped her around. Locked her so tightly against his body she couldn’t breathe. Took her mouth in a kiss so hot and needy she wondered why she hadn’t crumbled into ashes from the heat of it.

Her knees went weak. She clung to him even as she undulated against the hard bulge in his jeans.

“Oh yeah. I want that wild woman who was in my bed last night.”

He doesn’t want the real you,
her subconscious whispered,
he wants the illusion.

Reality intruded. Outraged at the traitorous rush of moisture between her legs, Kenna bit him.

He reared back. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because I just remembered I fucking hate you.”

Drake’s dark expression softened. His hand shook as he lifted it to trace wispy touches along her jaw. “No, you’ve got that backwards. You’d hate it if I didn’t fuck you.”

She stared at him, at a loss because she knew he was completely right.

“This thing between us scares me too. And not just because someone was shooting at us. Or because you were mugged.”

The uncertainty in his eyes sealed her fate. She wanted him. His powerful body reminded her of the spontaneous heat generated between them. She could deny them the pleasure or enjoy it.

Not a difficult decision.

Maybe she had an exhibitionist streak after all because she didn’t care about anything beyond being with Drake.

“I’d forgotten you were the kiss and make up type. Okay. Let’s do it. Right here, right now.”

“Are you serious? Right here?”

“You got a better idea?”

“Hell yes.” He grabbed her hand and made a mad dash for the backside of the campsite. Miscellaneous broken motorcycle parts were strewn across the grease-stained tarp beside the tent, giving the appearance the spot was occupied.

Kenna stopped. “What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.” He led her toward the low-slung motorcycle behind the tent, kicking aside empty beer cans. “Climb on.”

“Why? We going for a ride?”

Drake faced her. “The only thing I’m gonna ride, Kenna, is you.”

Every cell in Kenna’s body revved into high gear.

Before she asked another question, his mouth came down on hers. He ate at her lips, suckled her tongue and peeled the halter down to her hips.

Strong fingers pinched her nipples, rolling, tugging the tips until it felt like he’d unearthed a secret electric link between her breasts and her pussy.

Kenna traced the delineated lines of his abdomen, reaching past the waistband to his belt. A quick tug and the buckle gave way. Another yank and the buttons popped. Her fingers met coarse hair, then the solid reality of him. Her palm brushed the plump head, spreading the moisture seeping from the tip down the length.

He sucked in a harsh breath through his nose and kissed her harder.

His cock twitched as she alternated featherlight touches with firm strokes. She dropped kisses on the shadow beneath his chin and murmured, “You smell good.”

“Ah. Christ that feels good.” He widened his stance.

The almost delicate skin surrounding such pure male hardness amazed her. Oh yeah. He was definitely hot, hard and ready. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips until they parted. She left him like that, his mouth hanging open as she hiked up her skirt and dropped to her knees.

Without preamble she opened her mouth and swallowed him.

Some incoherent sentence burst from him.

Kenna sucked his cock. Her hands caressed his balls. She kept her eyes locked on his while deep-throating him.

“No,” he sputtered, jerking her to her feet and hauling her into his arms.

She hid her face against his broad chest. Why was his heart racing and his breathing uneven if he hated it so much? “Sorry, I thought you’d like it.”

Drake tipped her chin up. “I loved it. You can do it later, as much as you want for as long as you want. But when it happens, I want to look in
your
eyes, not colored contacts. When I’m ready to explode from the mind blowing sensation of that wanton mouth taking all of me deep, I’ll be grasping your hair, not a damn wig.”

His words were a balm to her soul.

“The first time I come with you tonight won’t be in your mouth, Kenna.”

Her own mouth dropped open in shock.

He took advantage of her lapse in concentration and quickly kissed her. His soft hair tickled her collarbone as he angled his head closer. “Let me taste you. Lift your skirt.”

“Drake—” The words died when he dropped to his knees. Callused fingertips yanked aside the flimsy barrier of her underwear. Then his mouth was on her, nibbling her clit, licking the juices from her wet folds. Swirling his tongue in figure eights. Jamming it high inside her until she started to shake and whimper.

His tongue made another thorough pass from where she was soaked and aching to that forbidden area no man had breached. Little expert flicks of the stiffened tip of his wet tongue on that spot made her clench her thighs and everything else.

After one final decisive lick, he stood.

“God. I want you naked. But I need you, like now, so this’ll have to do.” Drake clamped his strong hands around her hips and lifted her.

After a surprised shriek, she tried to wrap her legs around his waist to catch her balance.