Tease Me: A Stark International Security Novel Read online

  “That’s it,” he says as I ride him. “Oh, God, you feel incredible.”

  My speech is less coherent. My upper back is against the wall, and I’m held in place by his hand on my ass and the hard length of his cock. His other hand provides no support at all. Just the opposite, in fact, since those fingers are teasing my clit, playing me to such perfection that I’m about to spin off him and out into space.

  “Come on,” he urges. “Look at me, gorgeous. I want to see those beautiful eyes. I want to watch when you explode. Come on,” he says, his voice as rough as our wild coupling. “Come for me now. Come with me now.”

  And, oh dear God, I do. I feel the force of his release, an explosion inside me, and it sends me over the edge. No guilt. No shame. The elevator, the hotel, the whole fucking world disappears in a storm of fire and ice that I don’t ever want to end. For what feels like hours, I tremble in his arms and he holds me tight until finally, finally, we slide to the floor and curl up facing each other.

  “Hello, Kitten,” Ryan says.

  “Hey, Hunter.” I draw in a deep, satisfied breath as my husband strokes my hair. “I missed you too much.”

  “And so you came all the way to London?”

  “Yup. Just picked up my phone and made an airline reservation.” I slide my hand down to cup his cock. “I wanted more than just the fantasy of you.”

  He chuckles. “And yet you still got to play out the fantasy.”

  “I did. Thank you. This was deliciously wicked.” I sigh, satisfied, then narrow my eyes as a question occurs to me. “How did you know it was me? When I came up behind you in the bar. You knew I was there. How?”

  “Did you forget why I’m in the hotel in the first place? I had the hotel security feed streaming on my phone. I saw you walk in.”

  “Oh.” I lick my lips, liking the idea of him watching me, then playing along the way he did. “I love you,” I say.

  “Do you know how magical those words are? I love you, too, Kitten.” He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing as he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “No one but me, Jamie. Not ever.”

  “Never,” I agree. “You’re all I want. Everything I want. Except…”

  His brow creases. “Except?”

  I flash an impish smile. “Except right now, I want more. Can we go to your room?”

  He pulls out his phone. “Put your clothes on, baby, and I’ll turn the cameras and security controls back on.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I’m going to strip you bare all over again, tie you to the bed, and spend the rest of the night fucking my wife senseless. Assuming that’s okay with her.”

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling broadly as I hurry back into my clothes. “That’s perfect.”

  Chapter Two

  Ryan’s words echo through my head all the way back to the room, making my thighs tingle and my cunt ache. The penthouse suite takes up the entire western end of the hall, and I swear it takes forever to get to the ornate double doors, then even longer for him to get inside with the key card.

  By the time the door shuts behind us, my body is throbbing. Yes, he’d taken me in the elevator, but that was hard and fast and part of a game. Now I want more. I want the entire night with no make-believe.

  Bottom line? I want Ryan. I want him to fuck away my fears. To completely erase the worry that had sent me running to London in the first place. And he will, too. I’m certain of it. Already I can imagine lying naked and sated in bed, Ryan’s hand on my hip as we face each other, lost in delicious after-sex bliss.

  Right now, though, we’re still standing in the tiled entryway. It’s an open floor plan, and I see a powder room off to the left, along with a hall that extends beneath a spiral staircase into mystery territory. There’s a kitchenette to the right, the controls on the wine fridge glowing a soft blue that blends well with the wavy aquamarine light cast by the huge built-in aquarium.

  The tank is filled with colorful, exotic fish, and even from this distance I can see the bedroom beyond. I bite back a smile, wondering if there is some sort of blind on the other side of the tank. Or if the fish—and any guests in the living room—are always allowed a watery view of whatever shenanigans might be happening in that room.

  There’s a huge flat screen television on the other side of the aquarium, then a stunning built-in bar that, from where I’m standing across the room, seems exceptionally well stocked.

  That wall abuts the exterior wall of the penthouse, which is made entirely of glass, allowing for an exceptional view, the centerpiece of which is the London Eye. Ryan crooks his finger, and I follow as he walks that direction. Two of the glass panels pull apart, opening the living area to the balcony, and that’s where we go.

  The night air is pleasantly cool against my overheated skin. I stand by the modern glass barrier with the lights and majesty of London spread out thirty-eight floors below. It’s so beautiful it makes my heart ache, and yet it’s not what I want to see. And it’s definitely not what I want to feel. I want to ache, yes, but not for the beauty or the lights or the majesty.

  What I want is Ryan. I’ve been anticipating his touch since we stepped off the elevator, and now my skin is so primed that I’m certain I’ll explode from nothing more than the feel of his fingertip against my forearm.

  And yet he’s not touching me at all. Damn the man.

  Despite the raw, seductive words, he hasn’t even kissed me, much less stripped me. And though I can imagine the feel of his hands on my bare skin, imagination is all I’ve enjoyed. Well, since we left the elevator, anyway.

  I tilt my head and pout. “You’re a tease, Hunter.”

  “Maybe I am.” He moves toward me, then runs a strand of my hair through his fingers. He’s careful not to touch my skin, and yet I shiver simply from the promise of connection. “Or maybe I’m just waiting to hear the rest of it, Kitten.”

  “The rest of—”

  He stops me with a finger to my lips. “You’re here. And it doesn’t make sense.”

  I take a step back. “You’re here. Of course it makes sense.”

  The corner of his mouth curves up, and I put a ticky-mark in the Jamie column of my mental score card.

  “I appreciate the loyalty,” he says. “And I definitely appreciated earlier. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Hunter, I—”

  He shakes his head, silencing me. “Your work, Jamie. You expect me to believe that you dropped everything and raced to London just because you missed me? I’ve gone on business trips before.”

  “Not this long.” I turn my back to him, then head toward the plush, outdoor sofa.

  “True.” His voice follows me, but the man himself doesn’t move. “But I think we’ve been finding some creative ways to make up for the time and distance. Considering some of our Skype sessions, I think you could have had one hell of a career as a cam girl.”

  I look back at him over my shoulder. “You were already more than familiar with my wide and varied skill sets.”

  He chuckles. “True.”

  “And it’s not the same.”

  The levity fades. “No, it’s not,” he admits. “And baby, I hope you know that there will never be a time when I don’t prefer to have you in person. But maybe this wasn’t the right time.”

  “Not the right time?” My mind immediately jumps to the mysterious Someone he bumped into, and I drop onto the corner of the couch, then pull a pillow to me and hug it close. “Because it’s not convenient for you? What with spending every waking minute working on all those detailey security issues.”

  He settles into a metal and vinyl armchair that is clearly some sort of designer piece. He looks regal as fuck and totally in control. He also ignores my snide tone and not particularly subtle accusations. I’m not terribly surprised by that. I can be a real bitch sometimes. I know it. My friends know it. My husband definitely knows it. And he’s learned how to ignore it.

  Sometimes I’m okay with that.
Right now, it’s pissing me off.

  He leans back. “Did you or did you not text me just the other day about how you couldn’t believe that Holt was actually bringing in consultants and test audiences to screen the special before final edits?”

  “So?” The word comes out cavalier. A testament to my acting skill.

  My blasé attitude doesn’t fool Ryan. “You gushed, Jamie. And you are not a woman from whom one expects gushing. You told me that you were giddy—and, yes, that was the word you used—about getting the chance to sit behind the one-way glass and watch the consultants interview the members of the test audience. Remember?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Mmm. I think your exact words were fucking amazing. And then you made some comment about how you never realized that being a producer was like being a badass detective secretly watching an interrogation.”

  “Well, if I said it, I must have been drunk. The cop part. Not the fucking amazing part, because that’s true.”

  “Giddy,” he repeats. “Gushing. Hell, I smiled for days just because you were so excited. And yet here you are.”

  “Yeah. Here I am. With my husband. I’m sorry if that’s a problem for you.”

  He doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he stretches out his legs, totally at ease. “Were they able to move the interviews earlier?” His voice is intentionally casual, and I wish there were an equally casual response I could rattle off.

  Of course there’s not.

  I clear my throat. “Not exactly.”

  “Jamie. Just tell me.”

  If we ever have kids, I’m pulling in Ryan and that tone whenever they get out of hand, because God knows it works. I draw a deep breath and hug my pillow closer. “I asked Matthew to have the team forward me the taped interviews. We’re going to have a conference call while I’m here.”

  He runs his fingers through his hair, his expression perplexed. “Kitten, I don’t get it. You wanted to be there. Hell, you’ve wanted to be in the thick of it every step of the way. You’ve been on cloud nine since you landed this opportunity. A two-hour special that’s more than just fluff? And Matthew Holt in your corner…” He trails off, his hands rising as if he is trying to grasp the proper words.

  He pushes up out of the chair, then closes the distance between us in two long strides. There’s a metal and glass coffee table in front of the couch, and he sits on it, directly across from me. Then he takes my hands. But it’s not a sensual touch. Instead, I see worry in his eyes. “You’ve been fighting to truly break in ever since you came to LA. Kitten, sweetheart, this is what you want.”

  I blink, and a single tear leaks out, running down the side of my nose. “But I don’t want it as much as I want you.” I press my lips together and look at the floor, as if that will hold back the army of tears that want to follow their leader.

  “Oh, Jamie.”

  I hear regret and sorrow in his voice, and a cold wave of fear crashes over me. I yank my hands free, shaking my head.

  “No.” This time, his voice is hard. Firm. He repeats it, now as soft and gentle as a kiss. “No. Oh, Kitten, Christ, I didn’t realize what that mind of yours was spinning. And I am so, so sorry you were afraid. But baby, don’t you know? You have me.” He takes my hands again. “You will always have me.”

  Tears stream down my cheeks, and I suck in air, feeling both relieved and idiotic.

  “Hey, hey.” He moves to the couch beside me, then pulls me close. I bury my face against his shoulder, the fear I’ve been holding in pouring out in tears and sobs.

  “You’ve been distracted,” I say when my sobs have calmed to hiccups. “And it only got worse when you told me that you ran into someone you knew before, and my imagination started spinning, and, well, you know.”

  “Apparently, you don’t know.” His voice is as gentle as his touch. He stands, then lifts my chin until I’m forced to look up at him. “Things have been crazy here. I’ve been tasked with overseeing the installation and debugging of one security system, and the complete redesign of another, which just happens to guard a significant amount of confidential information. You know all that, right?”

  I nod, feeling needy and more than a little stupid.

  He takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. “But that’s no excuse for being distracted and out of sorts when I talk to my wife.”

  “It’s actually a pretty good excuse,” I tell him. “And to be honest, Nikki tried to warn me.”

  He frowns. “Warn you?”

  “That your response to my coming might not be all hugs and puppies. Because of all the work, I mean.”

  He shakes his head. “Never. I love that you came, and I love the way you did it. Best extra-marital seduction inside a marriage that I’ve ever experienced.”

  At that, we both laugh.

  “Mostly, I love you, Jamie Archer.”

  “Jamie Archer Hunter,” I correct.

  “And thank God for that,” he says.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper. “So, so much.”

  He pulls me close and kisses me, sweet and tender, as if sealing the vow between us all over again.

  But when we pull apart, it’s not sweetness I’m thinking about. “You know what else I’d love?”

  “Knowing my wife, I could probably guess. But why don’t you tell me?”

  “What you promised before. Stripping me bare. Tying me to the bed. Fucking me senseless. I think that sounds just about perfect.”

  “Do you?”

  I nod, and even though I’m not remotely shy with Ryan, I feel my cheeks warm as he slowly circles me, like a panther stalking its prey.

  “Tell me why.”

  I swallow. That’s the downside of being married to someone who truly understands me. The downside of him being Hunter. My Hunter. He’s the man who tamed me, after all. The man who already knows the answer. He just wants me to say it out loud.

  “Because I still feel raw,” I admit. “Because as much as I believe that it’s all about work, I can’t stand feeling distant. It drives me nuts. I need to feel our connection. I need you inside me, Hunter. I want you to fuck me so hard that it feels like we’re one person. I want to get so lost in each other that we have to fight our way back to reality.”

  For a moment, he says nothing, and I’m actually afraid I pushed too far. Then he says, “Take off your clothes.”

  He’s behind me as he speaks, and I start to turn.

  “No,” he says. “Do as I say.”

  I bite my lip, my pulse racing. “You said you were going to strip me.”

  His fingers slide through my hair, and then he tightens his grip, tugging my head back with such force it’s almost painful. “Arguing, Kitten?” His voice is low and sexy. Commanding. My body responds immediately, and I breathe out an excited little whimper.

  “What’s that? I didn’t hear you.”

  “No.” I have to force the word out past dry lips. I’m lost again, my nipples tight and my core aching. My body is a slave to this man, and I fucking love it.

  “No, what?”

  “No, Sir. I’m not arguing.” I glance around. We’re higher than any other building nearby, and the world is like a film running below us. There are no balconies on this side of the tower—only three on the building as a whole—and there’s something wonderfully titillating about being naked under the night sky even while being so high I can practically touch those stars.

  “Not as far to go, is there?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you make me explode. When you take me to the stars and back like you do every single time we make love.” I look up at the night sky. “Not as far to travel.”

  He chuckles. “A fair point. Maybe tonight I should take you all the way to another galaxy.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “But only if you do as I say.” He comes around to face me, then steps back and slides his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. “Take off your clothes.”

  I reach ba
ck and unzip the dress, then pull the bodice down, baring my breasts just as he had in the elevator. I hold it there for a moment, then shimmy, letting the material slither over my hips to pool around my feet.

  My eyes never leave Ryan’s as I take a single step forward. Now I’m outside the circle of red silk, clad only in my four-inch heels. Ryan, of course, still has my panties in his pocket.

  I drag my teeth over my lower lip and wait for instructions, but he says nothing. I take that as a command to continue and start to bend over to unfasten my sandals.

  “No,” he says, and I look up to see him stroking the bulge of his erection. “Leave them on.”

  I tilt my head to the side, my eyes glued to the rhythmic motion of his hand. “Do you want me to take over?”

  “No,” he says, and I almost laugh. Apparently, no is his word for the night.

  He unfastens the top button of his trousers, then unzips his fly. He takes his cock out and strokes it, already thick and hard, the tip slick with pre-come. I lick my lips, wanting nothing more than to drop to my knees and take him deep in my throat.

  “Spread your legs,” he demands, and I eagerly comply, relishing the sensation of the air on my wet, overheated sex.

  He takes a seat on the sofa, his hand still moving rhythmically up and down on flesh I want to touch. To taste.

  “Finger your pussy,” Hunter orders.

  I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips. Because even though it’s Hunter’s touch I crave, at the same time I can’t deny that the thought of masturbating while he watches turns me on. I start with my hands on my breasts. I pinch my own nipples, then cry out as a trill of electricity shoots from my breasts to my cunt.

  “Oh, Christ, baby.” The rhythm of his hand on his cock intensifies. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?”

  I don’t answer. Just slide my palm down my abdomen, lower and lower until my fingers cup my swollen flesh, teasing my sensitive clit. “Do you know how wet I am?”

  His eyes meet mine, hot and hard. “Let me taste you.”

  I almost come right then, just from those words. And my nipples tighten in response as I slide my two middle fingers deep into my core. I close my eyes, my body trembling. My knees going weak. And then I ease my fingers out and take a step toward him.