I Spy a Dark Obsession (5 page)

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Authors: Jo Davis

Tags: #Intelligence Service, #National Security, #General, #Romance, #Erotic Fiction, #Suspense Fiction, #Suspense, #Erotica, #Fiction

BOOK: I Spy a Dark Obsession
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“I am. And it’s not a necklace, it’s my collar.”
Katrina hesitated. “Your what?”
“My sub collar,” Emma replied proudly. “Blaze is my master, and in a few months he’ll be my husband, too.”
“Oh. I had no idea that you and he were . . .” She fumbled, at a loss.
“Into the D/s lifestyle?”
“Yes, that.” The topic was so far out of her realm, she had no idea what to say. Then a thought occurred to her. “Wait. Isn’t that why you two broke up a while back? His lifestyle?”
Emma nodded. “Yes. I didn’t really understand his world, and I’ll admit that the prospect of giving up control scared me quite a bit. I didn’t get that the lifestyle isn’t about humiliation, and it’s not some sexual free-for-all where the Dom gets whatever he wants.”
“What is it about, then?” The world of D/s would never work for her, but she couldn’t help but be curious.
“The master’s sole priority is the safety and happiness of his sub. He’s in charge and has the final say, but he’ll always listen and consider what’s best for his sub. Blaze loves me and would never hurt me, and I love and trust him. It works perfectly for us.”
“Well, you’re certainly happy these days and that’s all that matters,” she said, patting her colleague’s arm. She studied Emma, seeing her in a new light. Here was a woman with an adventurous spirit and an open heart, someone she hadn’t gone out of her way to get to know outside work. Perhaps a friend? She really needed to make more of an effort to socialize, and what better time than now? “Emma, would you like to go have drinks after work sometime?”
The other woman’s face brightened. “I’d love to! I’d just need to check with Blaze. What day?”
“Tomorrow or the day after?”
“The day after should work. It’ll be fun.” Emma squeezed her hand and gave her a grin. “I’d better wrap up and get home before a certain grumpy agent comes looking for me.”
Katrina laughed. “Yeah, you’d better go. I’ll check with you tomorrow and we’ll decide on a place.”
“Great. See ya.”
Once Emma was gone, Katrina straightened her worktable. In her office, she retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, rose, and hit the lights on the way out. The drive home took only about fifteen minutes, but it was long enough for her mind to wander toward SHADO’s two most eligible men.
Michael and Bastian were her two personal fantasy bookends. D/s wasn’t her thing, but threesomes and more? There was a juicy little tidbit she hadn’t shared with Emma or anyone at the agency. She might be poised on the outside, but inside . . . she burned. All the damned time. From puberty on, her passionate sexual nature was a part of her she’d learned to embrace.
Wouldn’t her oh-so-proper, sexy bosses be shocked to learn that calm, cool Katrina loved a cock down her throat and another reaming her ass or pussy? What would they say if they knew how many times she’d envisioned them fucking her—and each other—in every way possible?
She’d have a transfer to Siberia on her desk within the hour. But the knowledge didn’t stop her from imagining the two most delectable men around using their gorgeous bodies to make a nice, sweaty Katrina sandwich.
God, she needed some excitement in her life. Some wild, kinky sex, to be honest. It had been a long dry spell, and she refused to keep hoping for a connection that wasn’t going to happen.
That lesson was reiterated in spades when she arrived home to find Michael waiting on her stoop. As she locked her car, gathered her purse, and approached her door, her gut sank to observe the irritation on his handsome face, the restlessness of his posture. He’d come to chew her out, and then go out on the town. The last was obvious by the skintight brown leather pants that looked as though they’d been painted onto his long, muscled legs. And the snug black T-shirt tucked in at his trim waist. His sable hair had been gelled into an artfully messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed style.
No doubt about it—the man was going hunting for someone to roll
into
his bed.
A spear of disappointment stabbed her breastbone, and whatever he was about to dole out paled in comparison to the hurt of picturing him naked with another woman. Which was completely ridiculous, because she had no claim on him at all, and never would. The man was just emerging from mourning his dead wife and wouldn’t be searching for a serious relationship. Especially not with one of his own employees.
“Michael,” she said calmly, stopping in front of him. “I know why you’re here, and I have no idea why the camera failed.”
“Not out here.” His snappy tone didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation.
“Of course.” She bit back a sigh and moved past him to unlock the door. “Come in, please.”
Walking inside, she flipped on the lights, setting her purse and keys on the entry table. With a pointed look, she gestured for him to precede her into the living room. Glancing around, he swept a hand at the designer furnishings.
“You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. And though I appreciate your attempt to be civil, I don’t believe you’re here to compliment my décor. Sit down. May I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks. I won’t be here that long,” he said curtly.
So much for his one attempt at civility. “As I said, I don’t know yet what the problem is with the camera. It’s new and was functioning perfectly before I allowed it to be used in the field.”
“You should have tested it again. Your fuckup has cost us crucial video of a terrorist admitting his role in a subway-bombing plot. It’s shitty work on your part, and I expect better.”
Katrina stared at him, momentarily speechless. In the few years she’d been at SHADO, he’d never spoken to her in anything but a professional manner, even when angry. To come into her home and verbally berate her was unprecedented and unwelcome. Steeling her spine, she returned a glare of her own.
“There was
nothing
wrong with my work on that camera or any other. My team puts all of our devices through the same diligent testing process, and we’ve never had a single incident before now.” His jaw clenched. Refusing to be intimidated, she stepped into his space. “I brought the camera home with me, and I’ll use my equipment here to examine it until the glitch is found, even if it takes all night. That is my promise, and if it isn’t good enough, that’s too goddamned bad. Fire me.”
His dark eyes widened briefly, then narrowed. For a few seconds she could have sworn she saw grudging admiration in their depths. And perhaps something more predatory. They glittered at her dangerously, and she almost backed up a step.
“That won’t be necessary. I . . .” He faltered, and just as it seemed an apology was forthcoming, the wall slammed down again. “I’ll leave you to your work. I’ll see you tomorrow when you have your findings.”
Without waiting for a reply, he stalked past her and slammed out the door. Locking up behind him, she muttered, “Can’t wait.”
What the hell was wrong with him? Michael was frazzled, upset about something more than the camera. Otherwise, he’d have been angry—the loss of the video feed was no small matter—but he never would have spoken to her the way he just had.
She wasn’t likely to ever find out what was eating him, so there was no point in dwelling on it. Besides, she had a long night ahead of her and she’d best get started.
Right after she poured a nice, generous glass of wine.
 
Michael turned the air in his classic Camaro blue with every foul word in his vocabulary, before he started to feel like total shit. In the space of a few short hours, he’d managed to hurt his best friend again and piss off a respected employee. Two people he admired.
And more than that, desired.
There it was, exposed. For a few seconds, he’d been possessed by the insane need to kiss Bastian. He’d wanted to. Wanted to thrust his tongue inside that sexy mouth. Wanted to mark him on his throat, right where any other man would see and be warned off. So badly that his cock pulsed and ached like never before.
Thank God for Simon’s interruption, even if he’d fled like a criminal afterward. Confusion had quickly morphed to embarrassment and then terror. He wasn’t gay. The phone call from Emma had given him the perfect excuse to shower, dress, and leave. Bastian, he noticed, didn’t try to stop him or even persuade him to eat dinner beforehand. In fact, his friend was nowhere around, and he was relieved about that.
Wasn’t he?
Michael had killed a few hours shopping for new club clothes, since his old ones were too loose now. Then he debated going into the office, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He ate half a sandwich alone at a café and wondered whether Bastian was enjoying the shrimp marinara, or if he was miserable, as well. After driving around and wasting more time, and changing into his new prowling clothes, he’d ended up at Katrina’s. Where he’d screwed up royally for a second time.
Even while he was bitching at her, he was never more aware of Katrina as a woman. The fact that he found himself longing to kiss her as much as he’d wanted Bastian confused him more than ever. What the hell was going on with his libido lately?
And now? He was running.
Tonight, he planned to escape his staid life for a few hours. He needed to be touched. He yearned for soft feminine lips and hot bodies. To grind them against his to the beat of raunchy, driving rock music.
For the first time in months, he needed to feel alive.
He knew just the place. Daddy’s Money catered to a twentysomething crowd, though there were plenty of men in their late thirties, like him, who frequented the club, looking for easy action. Lots of girls went for older guys, and with any luck, tonight would be no exception.
Fortunately, he found a parking spot a couple of rows from the entrance, parked, and got out, ready to lose himself in fun. He wasn’t an old man yet and refused to live like one any longer. Though the pistol tucked into one boot and the knife in the other would help ensure that he
got
old to relive his adventures.
Lessons learned, and all that.
Inside, he was met by a pulsing heavy-metal riff and strobe lights breaking up the darkness. Bodies writhed to the beat, people smiling, laughing. Some hung at the bar, trying to shoot the shit above the noise, maybe find some willing company. Every one of them looked to be having a good time.
He headed to the bar first, waded in, and ordered a scotch on the rocks. Leaning against the bar, he sipped his drink and watched the crowd, trying not to appear too eager. Or desperate. Neither of which would get him laid. The trick was to appear coolly interested but approachable, and he was out of practice.
His first nibble came within minutes. A woman in her late twenties or thereabouts sidled up to the bar next to him, “accidentally” brushing his arm with an ample breast.
“Oh, excuse me!” she called over the music.
“No problem.”
“Damn, it’s crowded tonight, huh?”
“Sure is.”
Fanning herself, she gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Makes me claustrophobic. I’d like to find someplace to chill with less people around, you know?”
He did. The girl was ready, willing, and had her sights set on him. Unfortunately, she had a face like a horse and the teeth to match. He didn’t wish to be unkind, but he had to nip her advance in the bud. “Good luck with that.”
His tone was definite but polite, and, thankfully, she was intelligent. With a nod, she moved off to greener pastures. Any pasture but his was fine by him.
And so it went for the next forty minutes. Michael drinking scotch and making polite small talk, fending off three more advances. He wasn’t picky, but none of them were quite right.
She’s drunk.
She laughs like Woody Woodpecker.
Her breasts are plastic, and so is her face.
Maybe the alcohol would make them more attractive as the night went on. And he was more tired than he’d ever admit if Bastian were here to hound him. Maybe he should go home. He was just finishing his second drink when his luck turned for the better. Two gorgeous twentysomething brunettes bounced to a stop in front of him, beaming.
“Hi!” one chirped. “Want to dance? We’ve sort of been—”
“—watching you and you looked lonely so—”
“—we thought we’d ask!”
Gazing from one striking face to the other, his jaw dropped in astonishment. The women were identical, except that the first one who’d spoken had salon-perfect red highlights in her long, chocolate brown mane. Blue eyes twinkled at him mischievously.
Twins! Oh, my fucking God, yes!
At long last, Michael must have been a really good boy to have earned an evening of being a really,
really
bad one. He gave them his most charming smile and held out both arms for the girls to take. “I’m Michael, and I’d love to dance with you lovely ladies.”
“I’m Jeri,” the first one said. “And this is my sister, Jackie.”

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