Catching Red (16 page)

His groin jerked up and rocked into her. The movement stimulated the bundle of nerves within, and the lancing heat made it impossible for her to focus on her task. Needing to regain control, she slid off him to sit next to his thighs. Her hands trembled as she undid the buckle on his belt.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” His sounded pained.

“Not yet.” She struggled to free the buttons on his jeans. Gritting her teeth, she glared at him. “There is no easy way to take these off.”

He grabbed her wrists and pulled them off his groin. “I think you’ve done enough for now. It’s my turn to be in charge.”

She narrowed her eyes. “When did you get so pushy?”

His smile was playful. “I’ve always been this way. If memory serves, it’s exactly how you like me.”

He shifted his weight to the side and grabbed the handcuffs he had used last night from the back pocket of his jeans. He dangled them on one finger and quirked a challenging brow. “You have no idea how much self-control it took not to keep you awake last night. Now I want what you owe me.”

She licked her lips. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

His grin was roguish. “I think you do. Considering how you left me earlier this winter, we can probably agree you’re due for some punishment.”

Without warning, he rose to his feet and pulled her with him. With deliberately slow movements, he brought her hands together in front of her. The handcuffs closed over her wrists a moment later. She tested her mobility—bending her elbows and shifting her arms from side to side. At least she wasn’t being tied to the bed.

He turned her around and pulled her against his chest. She could feel him moving as he got rid of his jeans. The rough fabric brushed the backs of her thighs and calves as it fell to the floor. A moment later, the head of his shaft pressed into the curve of her back.

She shivered. Her nipples tightened into sharp peaks. He hooked his fingers on the side of her panties and pulled. With a whisper, they fluttered to the floor.

His hand curved over her bottom. A light smack followed. She yelped—more surprised than hurt. His other hand reached around and cupped her breast. At the same time, he bit down on her shoulder.

“Why do you go out of your way to leave marks on me?” She had always wondered at his reasoning.

He switched to the curve of her neck and left another. “I’m a possessive man. I like to remind you you’re mine.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. “How can you be sure I am?”

He caught her nipple and twisted. Another blow landed against her bottom. It was intense enough to burn for a few seconds after. “Any other smart comments?”

When she shook her head, he inserted his hand between her thighs and forced them farther apart. “Marcus—”

“No more talking.” Without warning, he penetrated her with a finger. She cried out at the sudden intrusion even as moisture gathered to ease his entry. He nudged her shoulder and turned her slightly to the side.

Realizing what he had in mind, she fought against the urge to moan in anticipation. “Why are you doing this?”

A second finger entered her. At the same time, the pad of his palm circled her clit. Even without direct contact, the stimulation nearly made her knees buckle.

Another blow landed against her bottom. “Because it turns you on. I need to make sure you’re ready.”

He was right. She didn’t know why his treatment had this effect. Perhaps it was because it made her feel utterly helpless. He was in charge; he controlled her pleasure. All she could do was close her eyes and feel. It hadn’t taken Marcus long to discover the arousing effect restraints and a modicum of pain had on her, and he had been eager to test her limits. It didn’t hurt that tying her up often triggered an instant erection on his part.

His fingers pumped as he spanked her again and again. Her bottom burned at the point of impact. Just when she was about to protest the treatment, he switched to the other cheek. Her body responded by coating his fingers in moisture. Her breasts felt tight. Her nipples throbbed. Her pants echoed in the cottage.

Heat gathered as he intensified the dual stimulation. Desire coiled and wound tighter with each lance of pleasure and pain. When she closed her eyes, all she saw was white. Release was just within reach.

He pulled his fingers out and lowered her until her knees hit the floor. Frustrated, she opened her eyes to glare at him. What she saw was the head of his engorged shaft. Moisture beaded over the very tip.

His hand fisted in her hair. “Open your mouth.”

Dazed, she complied. He shoved his erection past her lips but stopped once he was barely an inch inside. “You know what to do.”

She circled her tongue and savored the salty taste. When she’d licked it clean, he pulled out. Still facing her, he knelt. His hands shifted from her nape to cup both her shoulders.

He bent down and closed his lips over her nipple. She whimpered and arched her back into the assault. His teeth grazed her vulnerable flesh. When he bit down, her choked moan filled the small room. Forgetting the cuffs, she tried to move her arms apart and failed.

He switched to torment her other breast. His hands slid along her body to rest at the sides of her hips. “I think you’re wet enough for us to try something new.”

A blush warmed her face. Before she had time to fully understand what he meant, he turned her around and pulled her onto his lap. His arousal burned against her throbbing bottom.

The position emphasized their difference in size. He completely surrounded her with his much larger body. His chest muscles rippled against her back. His shoulders were twice as broad as hers. His arms were longer, thicker, and stronger. His hands could engulf hers with alarming ease. She wondered how she had ever thought she could take him on.

He circled her waist and tipped her forward. Her back arched. The tips of her breasts hovered a few inches above the floor. She braced herself with her bound arms while he held her in place. There was no question who was in charge.

Marcus gritted his teeth. He was determined to draw this out, but just seeing her like this threatened to make him come. Her hands were cuffed, and her upper arms pressed her breasts together. Even fighting gravity, the rose-tipped globes remained pert and hung close to her body. From this vantage point, her waist appeared tiny.

Dampened with sweat, her mane of red hair clung to her creamy neck and shoulders. The remaining tendrils fell to curtain the sides of her face. Her abused bottom was an alluring shade of pink.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured as he positioned himself against her slick wet opening.

When his engorged head probed her slit, she whimpered. “I think there’s a reason we never tried this angle before.”

It was a good thing she couldn’t see his smirk. “You’re little. I’m big. It takes some practice.”

He shifted farther into her and stopped the moment she cried out. She was tighter than he imagined. “Marcus…”

He moved one hand between her thighs and searched for her clit. When he found the bundle of nerves hidden under her soft wet folds, he flicked it lightly with the tip of his finger. Her hips jerked back, taking him a quarter inch deeper.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. It took all his control not to bury himself to the hilt. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head.

“Tell me what you want.”

Her inner muscles gripped the tip of his shaft—the sensation fed his instinct to drive into her. “You know what I want you to do.” Her voice was laced with embarrassment and frustration. She had always been shy in bed.

“I want to hear you say it.”

An eternity of silence seemed to pass before she whispered, “Please…do it again.”

He dug his fingers into her waist. “Do what again?”

“Touch me.” When he didn’t move, she bit out, “Touch my clit.”

“Good girl.” He circled the pad of his finger over the tightening nub. High-pitched sounds escaped her throat as moisture coated his shaft. The temptation to thrust was overwhelming, but he resisted. If she wanted more, she would have to beg. He pressed harder and moved his hand faster, certain it was a matter of time before she broke.

She spread her thighs wider and tried to push back against him. His hold on her waist kept her in place. She shimmied her bottom, and the sensation made every muscle in his body draw taut. Still, he refused to give her what she wanted.

By the time she surrendered, his entire body was coated in sweat. “Marcus…please…I want you inside me.”

He didn’t need a second invitation. It was a tight fit, but her channel was now slick and wet. He eased into her inch by torturous inch until her bottom flattened against his groin. Her moans, her harsh panting breaths, her sweat-slicked skin—they combined to bring him to a fevered high.

He circled her waist so he could anchor her with both hands. He pulled out before thrusting hard into her yielding body. When she didn’t protest, he repeated the motion.

Her breasts weaved in the air with each impact. Muffled cries escaped her lips, synchronizing with his unrelenting rhythm. With his fingers spanning her abdomen, he could feel her muscles drawing taut. On the cusp of madness, he continued to thrust fast and deep. Only when he could feel the telltale flutter as her silken sheath clenched around him, only after he felt her entire body spasm and turn limp in his hold, did he allow his control to snap. Pumping his hips, he embraced hot white oblivion and sought his own release.

* * * *

“I want to talk to the person in charge,” Red declared as she pulled on her jeans. Her newly washed hair was damp, and she smelled of lavender and mint. She pulled on a maroon hoodie over her almost see-through white T-shirt.

Marcus followed her out of the bathroom. After close to an hour of strenuous physical activity, a cold bath had been necessary. He dug through the duffel he had left by the door and pulled out a long-sleeve black jersey that matched his dark jeans. As much as he would like to repeat what they just did, time was running out. He had a job to do. “I’m the person in charge.”

She sent him a sideways glance. “I was referring to the man you reported to last night—the other shadow I saw inside this cottage before you caught me.”

He glared at her once he was completely dressed. Judging from the way her eyes darted away, the wheels in Red’s brain were already churning in the wrong direction. It scared the shit out of him. Her risk calculations were always a tad unbalanced. “I outrank Dane. I’m the one calling the shots.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you are.” When he scowled at her, she elaborated. “You’re a scout. Those men I’ve been following are soldiers. Rank or no rank, fighters follow other fighters. I’ll help you, but I won’t tell you anything useful until you get the person who’s actually in charge to talk to me.”

For someone who didn’t know the FMA existed, Red had a surprisingly astute understanding of Marcus’ placement in the pecking order. The WOLF was composed of Interior Division operatives. When push came to shove, the men would follow Dane’s lead. They’d trained with him, knew him, and respected him. An agent from Covert Affairs was an unwelcome intruder regardless of rank.

He and Red had a standoff. Though every instinct advised him otherwise, Marcus dug out his radio. He needed to treat her as an asset, and this wasn’t an outrageous request.

Not long after he’d barked out Dane’s call sign, the cottage door crashed open. The man must have been hovering within walking distance.

“It’s about fucking time,” the agent muttered. “Another half an hour, and I would have interrupted your little makeout session.”

It occurred to Marcus all FMA-issued rifles came equipped with infrared scopes. Hopefully, Dane hadn’t been watching the cottage the entire time.

Marcus turned to Red, whose face had turned an adorable shade of pink. “I’ve gotten what you wanted.” After taking a calming breath, he reluctantly admitted, “Dane’s the agent in charge. You can present your demands to him. Now start talking.”

She cleared her throat and regained composure with remarkable speed. “Why don’t you tell me what you plan to do with the army of city slickers you’ve positioned in the woods?”

Marcus and Dane glanced at each other. Dane wasn’t the trusting sort, and his reluctance couldn’t be clearer.

Red reached over and waved her hand between them. “You two can’t be serious. I’m your prisoner. Your plan is to invade in a matter of hours. How do you think I’ll escape, and what can I accomplish even if I did?”

Dane turned to face her. “Why do you want to know our plan?”

Her grin was impish. “So I can tell you how stupid it is. Fine, why don’t I just guess?”

Marcus resisted the urge to massage his temples. When the mood struck, the woman took being a smart-ass to a whole new level of annoying. He found her amusing, but Dane came from much stuffier stock.

In rapid-fire succession, Red rattled off an alarmingly accurate description of what he and Dane had decided on thus far—a nighttime attack, an initial wave of assault using infiltration specialists and grappling hooks, localized explosives at three select entry points, and a targeted elimination of WITCH members carrying firearms.

It was such a good guess Dane turned to level a glare at Marcus. “Damn it. I didn’t think you would be so susceptible to sexpionage. What the hell were you thinking?”

Red snorted. “No offense, but I didn’t need to sleep with the man to figure that out. Your plan is the exact scenario the WITCH has been preparing for since Mother Gothel was killed. After all, it’s the most logical infiltration strategy. Grandmother might be a bit unhinged, but she’s more intelligent than the two of you combined.”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Grandmother? Please tell me that’s just a title.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Who would come up with such a crazy moniker? I thought you had guessed I was connected to the WITCH’s leadership.”

He fought for patience. “The fact that you had been beaten half to death when we first met prevented me from concluding you had a familial connection to the person in charge.”