Spy Games: Lethal Limits (14 page)

“Of course, darlin’. Whatever you need.”

She smiled and rose gracefully, but the smile never touched her eyes. Her body was so beautiful—long legs, so firm, her ass high and round. Her skin flawless. She hesitated at the door knob. “I’d like a shower if that’s okay.”

“Anything.” He didn’t want her to shower. He wanted her to tell him why she pulled away after something so amazing. So right. “Are you sure you’re not pissed because I got jealous over Chase? It was in the heat of the moment. I don’t care who you’ve slept with.”

She grabbed a few things from her bag and shook her head. “No, I liked that you cared enough to claim me from him. It really wasn’t anything to be jealous of. We both went too far, and I think it scared the shit out of him as badly as it scared me.”

Jake frowned. Chase had more control than that, even when out of control. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Jake. Everything is perfect.” And she went into the bathroom and pulled the door closed.

“Perfect, my ass.” He had become an excellent liar by learning to read between the lines. Her claim of perfect was so far between the lines he could read it from over a mile away. Without Chase’s fancy rifle scope. Perfect was a lie.

She could have tonight to regroup, to think. In the morning, she’d have to answer him. Because there was no way in hell he was buying her
everything’s perfect
act.

****

Tia felt numb. Her limbs numb, her mind numb. She went to the claw foot tub and climbed in, turning the shower on full force, not caring if it was too hot, too cold, or just right. Then she hugged her arms to herself and sank down, her fingernails biting into the opposite arm, the pain welcomed since everything seemed so numb.

The tears came next, sliding wet and hot down her cheeks, mixing with the cold water. Her shoulders shook on a sob, then another, and she bit her palm to keep from wailing. Jake couldn’t know. He’d be relentless, like a dog with a bone, and she couldn’t confess what she now knew.

And as she cried, the intense pain returned, the pain that made her heart ache as if it were bound with bondage tape. The same pain she’d felt during wedding sex. It was not the pain she usually sought during sex—not like being spanked or clamped or caned. She liked that pain. This pain was agony that had laced with her desire, and like a paper airplane, it had soared higher until her orgasm blew a flame of fire, igniting it to cinder. Now it burned again, the coals hot in her chest, her throat scorched.

Even as much of a masochist as she was, the intense pleasure of orgasm during wedding sex had stabbed her heart, made it bleed and writhe until she couldn’t stand the pain any longer. Somehow, she had fought it and had brought it under control, tamping it down until she felt absolutely nothing. That was almost worse.

But the pain of orgasm also proved something, something that brought her to this point, shaking on the floor of his tub.

She knew exactly why she hadn’t been able to come before, and God help her, she knew why she’d never come again. She kept the memory at bay and, instead, focused on the feelings because she didn’t want to be numb any longer. The feeling of being used, second best, a whore. Jake had let her drop those feelings and inhibitions and with wedding sex had put her first. He’d made her something pure, almost virginal, and she didn’t deserve that.

Even discipline wedding sex had been intense, probably because he was punishing her for something real, tangible, and again had claimed her. She shifted in the shower and cradled her head on her knees, hugging them to her chest.

Her sex with Chase had included edgeplay, and she’d made him indulge in hardcore S/m with her. She had welcomed the direction his physical and mental discipline had taken. Even when he had given her a chance to safeword out on more than one occasion, she had pushed him, harder, until she didn’t care if she died in his arms. And she almost had. It had scared him shitless—he’d never called after and she never expected him to. That wasn’t the point.

But Jake… Jake was someone she could hand her reins to, and that was very, very bad. She could envision Jake removing the armor she wore, leaving her defenseless, vulnerable. That was her deepest, darkest fantasy. To be totally submissive, to give over every ounce of herself to a man, to deserve to be dominated in every way, shape, or form.

But this domination would be wholesome, good, and not the sick mental games she usually made men play. Jake’s brand of domination would be so much more, deeper, more soulful than wedding sex. The pain in her heart would kill her if she went that far with him. If her heart couldn’t take a little wedding sex role-play, how would she handle total domination with him?

She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood, turning the water to a hotter setting. She washed his essence from her body, hating the tingle she still felt on her skin, his musky male scent branding her. Her pussy still spasmed now and then, reminding her of the pleasure, the intense feelings she’d experienced. She didn’t deserve them again.

Tomorrow, there would be no more wedding sex. Tomorrow, he’d go back to fucking her like they usually fucked. The wedding was over. She’d convince him he had done his job, and she’d go back to faking her orgasms.

Some things were meant to be experienced over and over. Some things were meant to be experienced once. Wedding sex with Jake—that was definitely a once. She didn’t think her heart could handle more than that.

Chapter Eight

Tia hadn’t wanted to sleep in Jake’s arms. God help her, she hadn’t, but he had been waiting when she returned from the shower and made it quite clear where she’d sleep, her head against his chest, his body intertwined with hers. She went to that part of her that made her a kick-ass spy, so good at her job, and she pretended.

He wasn’t Jake—he was still her cover. Yes, that was it. She had to fuck him, sleep in his arms, be whatever he wanted her to be, so she didn’t die. She could go there.

And so she woke in his arms as well, never having felt so secure, so comforted, even though that really wasn’t what she wanted, either. She looked at him. So perfect, his dark blond hair just brushing his cheek, his lips firm, nose so perfectly straight despite this job they had. She was sure he’d taken a shot to the face more than once, but somehow he remained perfect to her. Beautiful even.

She went to untangle herself, and he grabbed her wrist, his eyes open. She forgot how quickly spies woke compared to other men. Immediately he knew the game, had assessed her. If she were his enemy, she’d be dead.

She faked a smile of good morning. “Sleep good?”

“No.” He rolled slightly and pinned her half under his hard body. She sucked in a breath at the contact of his naked hips, his semi-aroused cock pressing against her mound, the need she thought quenched the night before returning full force. Damn him, she didn’t want this.

He stared down at her, his eyes narrow. “I didn’t sleep good. Not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because all I could think of is how awesome I felt after making love to you, yet I made you go and cry in the shower.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face away, not wanting him to see the pain. He wasn’t supposed to hear her cry. This wasn’t about making him feel bad.

“Don’t deny it, Tia. I may not look like I’m that observant, but I don’t miss much more than Chase does.” He grabbed her chin and forced her face forward. “Look at me, and tell me the truth.”

She opened her eyes. His held concern with a touch of anger. “I was just…overwhelmed.”

“Bullshit. What did he do to you?”

“Who?” She shoved at his chest. It was like pushing hot steel. “Get off me.”

“Chase.” He said his best friend’s name as if it were a vile curse.

“I told you it was nothing.”

“Women don’t cry over nothing. Not like you cried. Tell me, and I’ll kill him for you.” There was no doubt in Tia’s mind he was serious. This was the Jake she’d see at work, under duress. Cold, hard, and sure.

“He’s your best friend.” Jake was insane. She didn’t know him well enough to claim he was jealous, though the idea was so tempting. Chivalrous. “And if there should be someone killing someone, it should be Chase killing you for loving his wife.”

Jake wasn’t taking the bait she offered to lure him away. “What did he do to you?”

“He did exactly as I asked.”

His hips bore down harder on hers, heavy. Insistent. He took her hands and held them over her head, almost without realizing, demanding that she submit. “What did you ask of him? Tell me. Now.”

Something inside snapped—the pain, the wedding sex, his possessiveness was too much for the tough girl in her to take. He had no right to want a part of her.

“You really want to know? Fine. I made him use a crop many strokes beyond what I could possibly stand, front and back. I made him cane me until I bled. I would have made him cut me, but he wouldn’t. So instead, I made him fuck me harder than any man has ever fucked me in a consensual rape fantasy, and the pain was divine. When he grew close to coming, I made him put his hands around my throat—”

“No!” All of the blood left Jake’s face, and he stared at her, then her throat, then met her eyes again. The fear she saw there was almost palpable.

No man had ever been afraid for her. Maybe Chase, but his ass had been on the line if he had killed her. The pain she felt during wedding sex returned, and she tamped it down. Went back to feeling numb. Fuck him or die. “Yes.”

“God, no.”

“I’m alive because I passed out as he came. If he hadn’t come then, he would have killed me. And I didn’t care. I wanted to be punished that badly. I wanted to come that badly. I woke up, and he was a mess because of what he did. What I made him do.”

“You’re lying.”

“He was so messed up, he vomited in the bathroom.”

Something about that statement took the disbelief from his eyes and changed it to straight pain. He swallowed and released her hand to touch her throat with a shaking finger. “Did you come?”

“No.” She batted his hand from her neck. God help her, if she had to make him hate her to stop the pain, she would. “Maybe you’re perfect, Jake. Maybe you have no problem keeping the role-play under control. But I made Chase lose that control. I pushed every button he had. I asked for everything he gave.”

“Stop,” he whispered.

“Maybe you don’t do hardcore S/m, but at that point, that’s what I wanted. I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted that pain. Don’t you get it? You may think you’re wild, but I am more than you’ve ever bargained for. So the next time you want wedding sex, you remember what your role-play wife is—ruthless. I’ll do whatever I can to get what I need, and it’s not pretty. And some day, I’ll drive you to hurt me, too, if I don’t hurt you first. I’m not fucking perfect Kate, where it’s all roses and ponies and whatever else she makes you think, despite how wrong that is all on its own.”

He sucked in a breath. “She’s not perfect.”

Tia sighed, realizing she was lashing out at the wrong person. She hated herself, not Blondie. “No, she’s human. And from what I gather, she’s a rookie, and she’s still soft in all the wrong places. I’ve been in this business a long, long time. I’m hard. I’m cold. And I have no problem whoring myself for what I want. Now get the fuck off me.”

She hated the pain in his eyes as he released her hands and rolled to his side. “Is that what you think? You’re nothing better than a whore?”

“Of course not.”

Liar.
That’s exactly what she thought of herself, and it made her tremble to hear him speak the words her mind said over and over to her, every day. She was a whore for her country, which was more honorable than what she did when she wasn’t at work. She was no good. And she didn’t deserve better.

She rose and found clothes, tugging them on. “You said Chase wanted us to run. How far?”

“If you wait, I’ll go with you.”

“How far, Jake?”

He sighed. “Five miles, at least. If you go right out the driveway and keep taking rights, you end up back here.”

“Then I’ll see you in a bit.”

****

Hindsight was twenty/twenty, and from where Jake sat, under his tree, book in hand, wedding sex had been a bad idea after all. Tia had been gone longer than the loop should have taken, but he figured she needed to pound out the stress in miles. He understood that. That was the only thing running was good for, solving problems, releasing stress. He’d gone downstairs to the basement and ran on the treadmill when she left, because he needed that release as well.

And in that time, all he could picture was his best friend’s hands around Tia’s perfect throat, choking her as he pounded between her thighs. He knew Chase. He didn’t want to believe. But Tia had told the truth, as bad as he wanted to believe her a liar. Chase threw up when he was shoved into a corner, wedged between a ticking bomb and hard steel. Almost killing a woman during sex would put him in that spot.

Jake closed his eyes and leaned his head on the sharp bark of the tree. Chase had been in a downward spiral after his divorce. He’d gone from woman to woman, sometimes two, searching for the control he needed. Jake’s job as a friend had been to keep Chase safe. Sane. Obviously, he had failed.

But that didn’t account for why Tia had wanted that. They didn’t allow breath control play at the club. You could fantasize you were being smothered or choked, but you couldn’t go there. Yet Tia had taken his friend by the hand and showed him a dark place, one he’d probably visited in the military. Choking each other out was sometimes a form of hazing, one Chase probably had to experience as a special ops team member, and if he didn’t want to get his ass kicked, he would have had to do it to a new recruit, too.

But to do it to a woman…

Jake shuddered. Thank God she had lived. Chase wouldn’t have survived killing her, even if it was an accident. If he had killed her, Jake would have missed out on the most special night ever with Tia.

Kate.
Jake drew in a deep breath. Would Chase hurt Kate that way? He didn’t think so. Chase wouldn’t let her suffer a hangnail, never mind choke her to get her off. Chase had even gone so far as to threaten Jake’s life if their training went too far. Of course, it had. If Chase knew how many times Jake had made Kate pass out from one thing or another in training, he’d have Jake’s head. But it was expected to some extent. Better to pass out in training than to fuck up in real life and die.