Spook Squad (12 page)

He pulled me to my feet, then kissed me…on the
forehead
. “I’ll go make dinner.”

“Don’t you dare, Mister.” I snagged him by the sleeve and pulled him back. “I’m not done.”

I could tell by the way he snugged up against me that while he’d been offering me an easy out, he was glad I hadn’t accepted it. He nudged his thigh against mine. I shifted myself to rub off on his bulging quad, took his face in both hands, and kissed him hard. Our quickening breath danced between our wet mouths, and reclaiming the mood was no hardship. Just focus on Jacob, I told myself. His lips. His tongue. The solid press of his body, the insistence of his hands. Pretty soon Bly was a distant concern, a negligible curiosity that would definitely keep while I tended to more urgent matters. I grabbed Jacob’s hand and covered my crotch with it. My body responded to his touch, same as it always does. I might not be a teenager anymore, but the plumbing works just fine…when I was able to clear my mind and keep my focus on the matter at hand, anyway.

My eyes had drifted shut, and I decided that keeping them open—keeping my attention on Jacob—would be my best bet. Not that I could see much more than a blur while he was kissing me. But it was a nice blur. The way he’d started jerking me off through my pants was pretty sweet, too. My breath caught, and he sighed encouragement into my mouth and started pawing at the front of my pants.

As he pulled back to undo the fly, he shifted position. Right behind him, the front door filled my field of vision. I was bombarded by images of it flying open, and me standing there with my dick out and a dumb look on my face. First I pictured Lisa framed in the doorway. Then Lisa and Crash. Then Lisa and Dreyfuss. And Crash. And Carolyn. And bringing up the rear? Agent fucking Bly. All looking at me wide-eyed with horror.

I clapped my hand over Jacob’s just as he unbuttoned my waistband.

“What?” he asked.

I indicated the door behind him with my eyes. Ever pragmatic, he reached back and slipped on the security chain. “There.” He turned back to me, sized me up, then dropped his voice. “Now lace your fingers, put your hands behind your head, and don’t move a muscle unless I say so.”

Oh-ho.
Now
that
tone of voice got my attention. I did as I was told. My overcoat bunched around my neck and my holster rode up my side. A yank from Jacob hobbled my knees with my own slacks. A draft from the mail slot played across my exposed groin—
don’t think about the door
—but then his hot mouth was on me, his eager, greedy mouth, and I consoled myself with the idea that all anyone would really see, were some passerby to peer through the mail slot, was the back of Jacob’s head.

I had a top-view. Some scalp showed through the short-clipped hair. Not as much as a certain Agent…I was
not
going to think about that guy. Focus on Jacob. His broad shoulders. His heated breathing. His molten wet mouth. His fingers clamped around the base of my dick, jacking me hard while he sucked. I walked my feet out just a bit—I hadn’t been granted permission to move, after all—and I locked my knees so I didn’t need to think about anything but the blowjob. The sweet, sweet blowjob. Jacob’s rhythm picked up, and he started kneading my bare ass cheek with his free hand, the one that wasn’t steadily jacking me toward my peak, just the right speed, not too fast, not too slow, just right, and his mouth was just right too, so wet, so good, and pretty soon I’d be spiraling toward that….

A car engine revved outside. Headlights shone through a gap in the mail slot. I caught my breath, loud. Jacob stilled and listened. Across the street, a storm door slammed.
 

False alarm. Just a neighbor. Unfortunately, the moment of panic had pushed me most of the way back to the starting gate. Jacob stood, still jacking my spit-wet dick. He ran his hand down my upper arm where it was still parked behind my head, petting me from protruding elbow to shoulder. With a smoldering look, he purred, “I
will
make you forget about whatever’s bothering you.”

“It’s just…”

He fit his mouth to my ear and said, “A good, hard fuck is what you need.” A thrill surged down to my groin so forcefully that I wondered if he felt my agreement in my dick. Or maybe it was the way my breath hitched that tipped him off. He stopped jacking me off and spun me by the upraised elbow. “Upstairs. Now.”

I broke position in order to catch my pants and keep them from sending me tumbling back down the steps. Jacob let the minor infraction slide, but as soon as I crossed the bedroom threshold, he was right behind me. In a smoky voice, he said, “Strip.”

Although he was stripping down too, his movements were slow, deliberate, almost lazy. By contrast, my hands were flitty and ineffective, struggling at buckles and buttons that had managed to turn into a dozen small puzzles since the last time I’d touched them. I yanked off my holster as I stomped out of my shoes and pants, forced my shirt over my head without bothering to undo all the buttons, and then it was just me, and just Jacob, skin on skin. We kissed, wet and a bit salty, and the heat of Jacob’s body engulfed me. I couldn’t be sure if it was all physical heat, or if something in his subtle bodies spoke to something in mine, and they were already mingling and merging in anticipation of what we were about to do in the physical.

It seemed awfully ambitious of him, promising to fuck me after I’d just sucked him off, but when my hand drifted down between us, I found him raring to go. Again. He smiled proudly against my mouth—and I hummed my agreement. We stroked each other, kissing, basking in the anticipation. And then Jacob caught me by the wrist, spun me, and forced me facedown onto the bed.

If he ever forced me for real, it would be a one way ticket to Freakout Land. But I trusted him in a way I’d never trusted anyone before. When he shoved my hands up over my head and knocked my thighs apart with his knee, I was utterly certain that he’d stop the second I asked. With that certainty, I was able to really let everything go. Everything. Whatever the hell I’d been mulling over—so what? I’d never admit in a million years that the thought of being someone’s fucktoy was a major turn-on, since that’s not at all the way I saw myself. But the stiff prong nudging up and down my ass crack told me that Jacob could see me like that, and the thought of him taking me, spreading me, using me…that idea blotted out everything else but the feel of his body against mine. His strong fingers pressed into my wrists, one-handed now as he rummaged through the nightstand. His thighs spread my knees and I struggled back against the pressure, pushing against him, relishing the sensation of being unable to clamp my legs shut even if I’d wanted to.

And then, slickness.

He swiped lube over my ass, jamming a thumb inside, and I gave a strangled moan into the comforter. My dick was trapped beneath me at a weird angle, but I didn’t protest. We were too deep in the fantasy. I rocked from side to side to right myself, fake-struggling, and Jacob shoved my wrists into the mattress and spread my legs even wider.
 

A blunt nudge at my ass. All my awareness rushed down to my privates. Jacob took it slow, drawing it out. He folded himself over me, chest hair tickling against shoulder blades, and murmured in my ear, “Now…who’re you thinking about?”

“You,” I said into the mattress.

“Me. Just me.” His cock prodded me again—was he going to make me beg for it? The thought filled me with dread, though it was spiked with a sick little twist of anticipation. He situated himself on his elbow and reached between us with his greased hand, but instead of diddling me, he grabbed hold of himself, and he lined us up. He didn’t push in. Instead, he started stroking my crack with his greased cockhead. I recognized the move. He’d tease at my hole ’til I squirmed, then sink that fat meat in once I was ready to scream. A giddy rush of blood shot down to my groin at the mere thought. We’d been together long enough that even the reruns in my brain got me hard. I closed my eyes and focused on the blunt feel of his tip probing, prodding, but not quite sinking in.

I murmured, “Yeah,” and he echoed it, and I realized I’d begun rocking against him, promising him how good it’d feel once he actually did take the plunge. My throat was raspy and my jaw hurt, and pretty soon my ass was gonna sting. That thought sent another jolt straight to my balls.

“Now what’re you thinking?” he asked.

“How good it’s gonna feel.”

“That’s right.” A blunt prod—again, not hard enough to penetrate. But a taste of what was to come. “And that’s all you need to know. Me. Buried in you.”

He rocked against me, cock poised, pressing, pressing, and then…the thrust. I actually cried out into the mattress when he shoved in. He lost hold of my wrists, but I kept my arms up over my head and grasped the blankets instead. I reveled in the stretch while he grappled with my hips, trailing lube across the crest of my pelvis, angling me so that he’d butt up against my sweet spot with every deliberate thrust. He shoved in deep. “There?”

“Down a little…fuck, there. There.”

He’d come only a few minutes before, so he’d be able to go for a good long while. Since I was rubbing off against the blankets, I could aim for the long, slow burn, too. His bunching abs skimmed the curve of my low back. His pecs brushed my shoulder blades. All down my back and thighs his fur tickled my bare skin, at least until we’d been at it long enough to work up a good sweat that slicked his body hair down. He shifted his angle, still pummeling my sweet spot, but now driving my hips into the mattress even harder. The friction against my dick intensified, and suddenly all the stroking and sucking and fucking was just about to pay off. I clenched around him as I hurtled toward my orgasm, with thoughts of nothing now but the tightness in my nuts and his fat cock pounding me. He felt me start the climb. His breathing changed, stuttered, and his whole body tensed. I hadn’t realized how steady, how precise his movements had been, until that control started to give. The chink in the armor always does it for me. I love that small moment when he breaks, when he lets loose long enough to give over to the release, even if it’s just for a second. I tried to slip a hand beneath me to finish myself at the same time, but he knocked my hand aside to do the reacharound himself, fucking me, jacking me, gasping my name wetly into my hair.

The moment stretched, a long slow peak that was less like a crashing wave and more like the flood tide coming in. We both made some noises that didn’t sound like they’d come from human throats. And we both came, hard.

The build had been slow, and now the ebb was just as slow, flowing seamlessly into sleep.

Chapter 11

I dreamed.

I was in a vast white room. Two rows of black-suited agents stood at attention facing one another to form a long aisle. They were all the same guy. Agent Bly, maybe, but more generic, like someone had made a crappy mold of him and pushed out a few dozen almost-Blys. At the far end of the row, a single figure galumph-walked into place at the head of the line, the position of power. He faced me with his whole body and said, “Your car sucks. Heh-heh.”

The generic agent closest to me leaned in and said, “Are you gonna let him talk to you like that?” I realized it was Jacob. “He’s not half the Psych you are.”

How could I answer? Poor Einstein had come through Camp Hell, same as me. Then, once he was through being tortured by the orderlies, poked and prodded and drugged by the mad scientists, Stefan and I were eager to pile on more abuse. I owed him now. Respect. Or at the very least, patience.

I was about to tell Jacob I had my reasons when the shooting started.

The two rows of black-suited agents drew their weapons, all in synch. One row turned to face the gunfire, and the other row stepped up to interweave with them and form a single unbroken line of men in black leveling their semi-automatics. All except one, Jacob, who broke rank to get between me and the gunfire.

I grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “Get down!” Confidence is one thing, but let’s be realistic. He’s not really a man of steel.

Bam-bam-bam
…I couldn’t see the shooter in the field of white, but I curled up tight to present the smallest possible target. The shooting stopped, and then an alarm went off, followed by a woman’s voice. Probably one of those automated computer voices that count down the seconds to self-destruct. Except I could swear it just said my name. And that it had a hint of a Spanish accent.

Lisa? At the FPMP?

I shuddered awake to the phone ringing in Jacob’s office. The answering machine beeped.

“Okay, I’m gonna go sit in my car now. I hate to keep pestering you guys, but one of you needs to get up and let me in.”

“Oh fuck,” I groaned. Jacob’s head snapped up from my pillow, not exactly awake, but startled, ready to dive for his sidearm if need be. “It’s okay,” I told him, “go back to sleep. I locked Lisa out with the safety chain, that’s all.” He said something unintelligible and rolled so that all the covers wrapped around him, leaving about a foot of comforter for me.

There was a hooded sweatshirt hanging off the doorknob, but aside from that, the only handy clothes were from the suit I’d stripped out of earlier. I pulled on my dress slacks without underwear, jammed on my shoes with no socks, topped off the look with the old gray sweatshirt and ran downstairs by the light of a few strategically placed nightlights.

I was halfway down the front walk when the cold hit me—fucking hell. A light dusting of snow had settled, and it kicked up onto my bare ankles as I jogged toward Lisa’s Volkswagen. I planted my palms on the frame of the passenger door, and the window powered down. “You didn’t need to come running out here, Vic. You could’ve just called and told me the chain was off.”

Well…maybe I would have, if I hadn’t been in the midst of a creepy FPMP dream that incorporated her message. As more waking parts of my brain lit up, it occurred to me that she hadn’t sounded particularly alarmed on the answering machine. Of course not, the sight of our cars must have told her we were home, and a few simple sí-nos that we’d nodded off. Though it was below freezing, her car was right there to keep her from getting frostbite while one of us struggled toward wakefulness. A simple mistake. No reason to panic. Embarrassed that I’d just wigged out over a phone call, I dropped my gaze to her passenger seat.