Undercover Lover (25 page)

Jenny sucked air through her teeth.

“The things I’ll do to you…” he promised. “Think on them instead.”

A groan tore from her as he pulled away, but she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw color returned to her cheeks—a previously missing sparkle in her eye.

“Thank you,” she said.

Turning to go, he paused with his hand on the doorjamb. “You were in the papers this morning.”

MI-5 had done a photo shoot with Jenny on a set made up to look like a trendy New York nightclub. Other figures in the background only shadows, she’d stood out in shots that made her out to be much wilder than anyone had known her to be previously.

“What were the headlines?” she asked, not really wanting to know.

“Something to the effect of,
It’s always the quiet ones…
There are two photos. One of you leaving your office with your brother. The other of you looking high—out of it—glammed up but blitzed.”

“Did it work?” she asked.

“
Good girl Ainsley goes wild as brother’s fame fans flame?
Of course they’re eating it up,” he said, looking grim. “You knew they would—the parasites.”

Trying not to hate herself for the alter-ego she’d deliberately helped MI-5 create for her, Jenny lifted her handbag from the dresser. “Well. That’s that, isn’t it?”

He nodded and held open the door. “Shall we?”

A heavy silence fell as they made their way into the back of the darkly tinted vehicle. With Ian driving, they exited Oxford’s quaint streets and turned onto the motorway toward London’s Heathrow airport. An hour and a half later, they stood inside a private VIP hangar on the outskirts of the airport.

“We’ve had word Simon made several contacts. Things are going apace,” Ian said, checking his cell.

Jenny played with the clasp on her beaded purse, opening and closing it over and over. Günter covered her hands and she stopped.

A trunk thudded, calling Jenny’s attention to the black limousine. The car had been procured from an establishment known to cater to the White Tiger’s people. A sweep confirmed the vehicle was bugged. Anything they said or did inside would be conveyed to the very people they were trying to chase down. Apparently Simon’s prep work had created interest in their arrival.

“Will you kiss me?” Jenny asked, needing a thread of Günter to hold on to.

“No,” he answered. “You need to dive deep now, Jenny. Find someplace to hide and let that other part of you take the reins.”

Mute with nerves, she climbed into the limo. The driver shut her door and the world grew muted—too quiet—behind the tinted glass. Dim and hushed. Like a tomb. She barely noticed when Günter slid in next to her and the security glass whirred upward to close off the front cab. Intuitively, she understood what Günter meant by
dive deep
. In reality, she wasn’t sure how to make it happen.

When she finally looked at him, a different man stared coldly back at her. The blocky set of his jaw, the heavy line of his brow, the wicked curve of his lip—almost a sneer—snapped up her head and straightened her spine. Every cell in her body became attuned to his mood. His desires. Because nothing in this life, or perhaps the one after, would be granted without his approval. The Jenny she needed to portray needed him—for drugs. For sexual satisfaction.

The car pulled out of the hangar and took a service road toward London. They’d emerge from a main terminal, their car visible to anyone who’d care to observe them—the intention being to make it easy rather than difficult for them to pick up a tail.

Günter looked at her. Expectant. She needed to begin their argument.

“Do you have anything for me?” she asked.

“Do you have anything for
me
?” he threw back at her. Arrogant. Assuming.

Curling her lip, she tried to think of every nasty thing he’d made her do in the last two weeks. Instead of the twenty-five pushups he’d demanded after she’d failed a pop quiz on different illegal drugs, she pictured him with his head between her thighs. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat.

“You promised,” she said.

The words came out tired. Almost a whine. Good enough. David Tallis’ sister could be a brat as well as a bitch.

“And you still haven’t paid me for my last.” He sounded bored. Disinterested in her plight.

Her eyes flew open. She sat up. “With the people I get you access to, I shouldn’t have to pay at all.”

“Who said I wanted cash?” His hand went to her thigh. “Are you wearing anything underneath these?”

“No.” Her voice came out deeper, more throaty than she expected.

A lazy finger traced an imaginary line toward her pussy and Jenny’s legs fell open. “Take them down.”

“If I don’t?” she taunted.

“You will.” His hand fell away. “Sooner or later.”

“I could get someone else, you know.”

“And have me rat out your nasty habit to your brother?” He gave a derisive snort. “Not bloody likely.”

Pouting, she complied. Cool fingers slipped beneath the band of her trousers and slid the silk down to pool at her ankles. Warm leather cushioned her backside as Günter used both hands to push her thighs wide.

“Touch yourself. Come for me,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “And you can have this.”

He dangled a tiny bag filled with a granular white substance. Licking her lips, she tried to grab for it. He snatched it out of her reach.

“Uh-uh,” he admonished. “Not until I get my show.”

Dipping her eyelashes in a coquettish glance at his cock, she asked, “What about you?”

“When did I say you could talk?” he asked.

His feigned displeasure sent a delicious trickle of fear down her spine.

Back against the door, she brought up her right foot to rest on the seat while her other braced against the opaque partition separating the driver from their compartment, giving Günter an unobscured view of each glistening fold.

His stare fell, heavy and calculating, as her fingertips skimmed the cream from her silky, bare flesh. The controlled heat of his gaze flooded her pussy with a rush of fluid, making her head light and her limbs heavy.

“Fuck yourself,” he said, his reserved tone belying his interest in the show.

Using the index and middle finger of one hand, Jenny parted her pouting lips and flicked her clit with a red-painted nail before sliding the digit to capture an answering rush of fluid. Swirling the moisture around her swollen entrance, she skirted compliance with Günter’s demands until he sounded a low warning.

A sly smile flirted with her lips as she inserted one finger into her aching channel. Full, but not full enough, she added another finger, and another, until the combined trinity stretched her—bumping against swollen tissues with enough pressure to give a promise of heaven.

She panted, fucking herself harder, the sound of her slick fingers filling the hushed confines of the vehicle.

“I want you.”

“Mouth.” He growled the word and clenched the baggie in his fist.

She whimpered, but pursed her lips against a response. Finger poised over the hood of her clit, Jenny glanced at the master of her fate. He nodded once, and she pressed down hard. Hips bucking, foot slipping from the partition, she came with a shattering jolt that left her breathless and boneless.

Minutes later, breathing calmed, she chanced a peek at his crotch. He faced forward, fists clenched, cock straining against the brushed gray wool of his trousers.

“Get dressed,” he said through clenched teeth, and she noticed he’d placed the bag on the seat between them.

“But—”

He shot her a look that had her swallowing down a heady combination of fear and desire before she lifted her hips to draw on her trousers. Musk scented the air, swirling around them both, and she knew even though he’d demanded she cover up he wouldn’t be able to forget the temptations that lay underneath her clothes.

She picked up the bag and peeled it open. With an obvious sound of appreciation, she licked her fingers and dipped them into the bag—rubbed powder-encrusted digits along her gums and tasted sugar.

Günter fished in his pocket and Jenny laid back, her head in his lap, so he could place dilating drops in her eyes. Closing her lids, she waited for the liquid to take effect. A warm palm smoothed back her hair and she sighed.

“You like to make me get off before I get high,” she said, voice breathy. “Less work for you.”

“I have a job to do.” He sounded irritated.

She smiled and stretched, catlike. “I am your job.”

He snorted. Derisive. “Something besides being your personal hard-on.”

“Mmm.
Hard-on
,” she purred.

The drug would be taking effect by now, making her dreamy and aroused, or cranky and horny, depending on its strength and blend. The pretend mixture they’d settled upon for their ruse had a reputation for being lessened by sexual activity prior to use.

When he didn’t respond she rolled her head to the side and nipped at the ridge of his cock in his trousers.

Günter’s hands clutched the back of her head and yanked upward. “Stop it. You’ll make a stain.”

She chortled and ran a finger along his shaft. “No.
You’ll
make a stain.”

The car came to a halt and he pushed her to a sitting position.

Jenny’s stomach clenched as the driver came around to open their door. She and Günter had only been playing—establishing their pieces on the board for anyone who might be listening. Outside the hotel, the real games were about to begin.

Early evening spread like a blanket above the city as Günter helped Jenny from the car. She spotted three paparazzi who’d been fed word of her stay. Their telephoto lenses trained on her face, she heard them begin snapping before she fully exited the vehicle.

In this moment, they’d cemented her supposed drug habit—made it known to the world and, by association, the White Tiger’s people. While the ruse was necessary, it galled her that from now on she’d be known as David Tallis’ partying problem sister.

She stumbled and giggled. Shrill.

“Oops.”

The photographers had six snaps of her dilated pupils and vacant stare before Günter dragged her by the arm toward the hotel door. She waved and flashes popped like wildfire.

“One’s from
Rumour
. The others are freelance.”

Günter barely moved his mouth as he spoke, low and quiet in her ear. She’d seen David’s handlers do something similar when they needed to feed him information. He never acknowledged the tidbits, so she took a page out of his book and said nothing.

What would it feel like? To actually have Bengal pumping through her blood? Making her drunk on sex and desire? Every nerve ending firing with the impulse to consume pleasure and slake carnal thirsts without regard to inhibition or consequence?

Right now it sounded awfully good to not have to be scared. Worried. Responsible. Shoving sunglasses on her face, she followed Günter to the elevator and tried not to picture tomorrow’s papers, or David’s face when he read the headlines.

Günter had never been so glad to see Simon in his life as when the man held open the door to their two-bedroom suite. Five seconds longer in the car and he’d have fucked Jenny for the world to see. At least now he could put a few feet’s distance between them.

“We’re clean.” Simon closed the door and showed Günter a green-lighted readout on his cell.

Günter nodded and Jenny straightened away from him.

“I need water,” she said, her voice like smoke and sin. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

They made their way into the sitting room and Günter fell into a chair in front of the softly hissing gas fireplace. Simon sat across from him. He closed his eyes, suddenly bone weary.

Ice clinked. Water splashed. Cool glass pressed into his hand resting along the arm of the chair. He grasped it and opened his eyes to take in the subject of his simmering desire.

She perched next to the fireplace—the chignon she’d wound her hair into that morning coming undone. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders to frame her face. Cheeks pink, pupils dilated, she presented a picture of carnal perfection he wanted to see splayed beneath him. Next time he fucked her, he intended to watch her breasts—high peaked and blushing—as they shimmied in time to his thrusts.

His cock stirred and he tore his eyes away from her.

“Report.” He directed the command at Simon.

“I set up a ten p.m. with a contact at Iniquity.”

Günter frowned at the mention of the private casino. “That’s pretty high-end for this stage of the game.”

“I got a call just as you arrived.” Simon sipped at his own drink—something stronger than water. “They want press on her walking through the front door.”

“So the rumors about the Tiger’s people owning the Iniquity are true?”

“Appears so.”

Rubbing his eyes, Günter stood and went to the wet bar for something more fortifying. If their contact was ready to bump up to a venue like Iniquity then they must think Günter’s proposal—delivered through Simon’s lower-end contacts—meant a real shot at cornering the moneyed market. With Günter’s hold over Jenny and her connections through Tallis, they’d supposedly lasso clientele who could afford and appreciate a more expensive grade of the drug. In short, if done right, they’d make millions for the Tiger.