Love and Let Die (35 page)

“Take off your clothes.” At least he’d turned off the cameras in his office this time. Not that it would stop him now. He needed to burn off the knot in his gut. He needed to take all his guilt and the resounding fear that he was going to fail them all and burn it away in her body.

She pulled at her shirt, fumbling a little as she tossed it away. He hadn’t even gotten her clothes from her place. He’d forced her to wear what she’d worn yesterday. He wasn’t taking care of her the way he should. He had to shove his anger down and take care of her because she belonged to him and he was starting to think that he couldn’t change that. He was fooling himself if he thought he could fuck her out of his soul, but right now he meant to try.

While she worked on her clothes, he walked to the small closet at the back of his office. He kept extras there. Extra guns. Extra ammo. Bulletproof vest. The tiniest bit of C-4. And an extra kit complete with lube and a still-packaged anal plug.

Just the basics. What every man needed to survive the apocalypse. Grace had been horrified, but Ian liked to be prepared.

He pulled out the kit and laid it on the coffee table in the sitting portion of his office. He wasn’t sure why he needed a fucking sitting room, but the couch had come in handy when he needed a nap. It also looked to be just the right height for what he wanted to do.

He glanced over and Charlie was naked, her gorgeous body flush with desire. Her eyes had already taken on the sleepy look he associated with her subspace. She subbed so fast, sometimes even without a single slap of his hand. Sometimes all she needed was a deepening of his voice as though the minute he opened the door, she fled inside and tried to lock herself away from the rest of the world.

“Is that how you start a session?” He wouldn’t call it what it was. It was lovemaking. It was need. It was the very air he breathed.

She dropped to her knees, her head falling forward, strawberry hair caressing her breasts and shoulders like a canopy concealing her secrets. He loved her hair. It didn’t matter what color it was as long as there was a lot of it. As long as he woke up covered in the stuff, a web he’d been caught in and didn’t want to get out of.

Her hands were placed on her thighs, palms up as he’d taught her. She didn’t make him ask twice about the placement of her knees. They were wide open, her pussy on display and he could already tell his sub was getting hot. Her pussy was a pearly pink, her nipples tight.

She was waiting for him. Calm and patient. Trusting.

Fuck.
He couldn’t do what he wanted to do. He was too fucking big. He would hurt her. He’d never thought he would rue his big cock, but the day was here. A tightness formed in his chest. “Get dressed, Charlotte. I have to get you some clothes before we leave here.”

His cock was screaming at him, promising him it would be very good and patient if he would only give it a chance at fucking that sweet little asshole.

His cock was shit out of luck.

Charlie’s head came up, the sleepy look vanishing and in its place a near panic. “What did I do wrong?”

He held on to his temper. He wanted to roar and scream and fuck her anyway, but she was his. His. He couldn’t hurt her any more than he already had. Revenge had sucked when it came to Charlie. His words came out on a shaky breath as he tried to calm his cock. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I never take a lover without preparing her first. I could hurt you. You remember when we were married, I was training you then. That’s why I made you wear the plug every day.”

She flushed again. “Ian, what I am about to tell you might sound weird and creepy at first, but I want you to remember that you gave me orders and even though you thought I was dead, I knew I was married and had a Master and I wanted to be an obedient sub.”

What the hell was she trying to say? “You’re rarely obedient, Charlie. I suppose I should have written it into a contract that you weren’t allowed to fake your own death or start up a criminal enterprise that would have three countries after your head.”

“Sometimes I just need guidelines, Master.” Her eyes came up, wide and innocent. God, he loved watching those eyes widen when he worked his cock in. It was one more thing he hadn’t liked about fucking her in the club. He wanted to be face to face. He wanted to watch her up close, see every expression as he took her.

“Your guidelines are to go and get ready. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us.” At least twenty-four hours where his cock would be in hell.

“But I followed your instructions,” she said quickly.

He stared at her, trying to understand. And yes, he thought it was weird. And kind of hot if he was right about what she was saying. “You plugged yourself?”

She flushed, though now he could have sworn there was embarrassment in there. Her eyes found the floor. “Yes. Not every day, but at least once a week. Usually more. You told me to. I found comfort in following your directions. I know the vanilla world would think it perverse, but I pretended it was you.”

She was completely and utterly fuck-all crazy. She’d plugged herself for five years? It was ridiculous. His cock was jumping in his jeans again.

“Back in position and stay there.” He walked out of his office and down the hall, not giving a shit that he was carrying an extra-large butt plug and a container of toy cleaner in his hands. The world was falling apart around him, but it didn’t matter because he had a toy to clean. All that mattered was getting ready because one way or another, he was going to find out if she was lying.

He stalked into the bathroom, his brain buzzing. She could be lying again. It could be her way of covering up the fact that she’d had a bunch of men in every way.

Or she could be telling the truth and she was a faithful wife for years, finding comfort in even the oddest of his rituals. His heart clenched a little at the thought of her trying to plug herself for the first time. She would have felt awkward and alone. It was a game between lovers, but she’d been on the run and by herself. Had she done it in the dark? The way he yanked his own dick and thought about her?

He knew he should back off. He should send her into hiding. He should separate her from the others and task Simon with making sure she stayed alive.

And he wasn’t going to do it because he couldn’t stand the thought of her not being with him. Now that he’d seen her again, touched her, fucked her, the idea of Charlie being out of his sight, his control, was unacceptable.

He cleaned the plug, dried it off and then turned to go back to the office where she would be waiting. She would be in position, waiting for him. It made him a bastard, caveman pig but he liked knowing she wasn’t thinking about anything but him, but what he was going to do to her, with her.

Damon Knight was walking down the hall, his big body taking up most of the space. They couldn’t actually get through the hall without brushing against each other because they were so broad. He should have thought about extra-large halls since he seemed to only hire or work with men built like Mack trucks. “Excellent, I was just looking for you. The jet will be ready at four. I’ve been informed that we have to take an extra passenger along.”

“Ten.” He’d known the minute he made that deal that the Agency would want an observer. It was a testament to Ian’s stubbornness that Ten wasn’t taking over the game.

“Yes. We’ve been given leave to support you in any fashion you choose. You have influential friends, mate.”

He’d done favors for a lot of powerful men. And now he owed a few more. “I’m going to kill Nelson.”

“I’m going to look the other way when you do. I’m perfectly certain it will be in self-defense.” Thank god it was Damon they had sent and not someone else. He mostly trusted Damon. He just didn’t know his partner well enough. “So we’ll refuel in Frankfurt and then Mumbai and we should be in Goa in roughly twenty-four hours. That’s as fast as we can get there. Do you know you’re carrying around an anal plug? Is this how you deal with office discipline?”

He started back to his office, not bothering to look back. “It’s how I deal with my sub. If anyone asks, I’m unavailable until we’re ready to head to the airport, and tell Adam he better have our papers ready or I’ll use this on him.”

He walked back through his door and there she was, a vision of submission waiting for him. God, he should be prepping for the operation, but all he wanted to do was lose himself in her. He wanted to lock the office door and never come out. For the first time, he thought seriously about running with her. He knew how to hide. No one would find them. They could be anonymous. They could give up everything and just find an island and never leave it.

And never see his brother again. Never know how Carys would look as a sassy teenager giving Sean hell. Never have kids of his own because they would be a weakness.

Life had been so much easier before she’d walked back in, but he knew in a moment that he didn’t want easy.

“Show me.” He stood in front of her, his cock twitching insistently, but he wanted to see it.

She nodded slightly, taking the plug in her hand. “I need some lube. I always use lube.”

As she should. He passed it to her, forcing his hand not to find her hair. When he was in a room with her, it was hard not to touch her, and when he wasn’t in a room with her, it was hard not to find whatever room she was in and be there, too.

She very carefully lubed up the plug. He’d picked the one that was just shy of being his size, but she didn’t seem intimidated by it. She simply ran her hands over it, covering the hard plastic plug generously.

There was no hesitation, no worry in her movement. It seemed almost like a loving ritual, one she’d performed often.

He’d told her he would spend weeks preparing her for anal sex. He’d explained that she would have to wear the plug regularly to stretch her so he didn’t hurt her.

Had she really spent five fucking years preparing herself for him?

“May I move to the couch, Master? I usually do this on a bed."

He didn’t correct her anymore. He was her Master. He always had been. He’d never allowed anyone to call him that on a personal basis. He was Master Ian at Sanctum, but Sir when playing. Because as much as she belonged to him, he knew in his heart that he belonged to her. Forever.

He just wasn’t sure it could work. “Yes. Do what you always do. I want to watch.”

She rose, grace in her every movement. She’d only started to practice when she’d left him, but her ease now spoke of years of rising from the submissive position, years of lowering herself down. She was a well-trained sub.

Had she done that herself? Had she done all of it while thinking of him, planning to come home to him?

Had this woman truly ached for him the way he’d ached for her?

He watched, his cock throbbing as she knelt on the couch, her backside to him. She spread her knees wide and allowed her torso to lay flat so that her ass was in the air, stretched by the position of her knees. She gave him the most delicious view of her asshole, all rosy and pink. Her hand held the plug, moving from underneath to place the flesh colored plug right against that gorgeous hole. Her rosette was tight, small. It didn’t look for a second like it could handle the monster she’d placed against it.

Her back was supple, all her muscles relaxed. She let out a long sigh as she pressed the plug to her ass, twisted it, opening the right side first so she could slip the plug in.

One smooth move and she was plugged, only the flat base in sight.

Other women might offer him a home-cooked meal or ask to hold his hand as a romantic gesture, but his wife understood him.

She plugged herself like a pro, and it was the most fucking romantic thing he’d ever seen.

He moved forward, placing a hand on that gloriously round ass, loving the little mewling sigh that came from her throat the minute he touched her. “How long do you usually keep it in?”

“I like to sleep with it.”

She didn’t say anything more, but he heard everything she didn’t say. She slept with it because it was like sleeping with him buried deep inside her. Because in those moments, she could close her eyes and pretend he was still with her.

God, he wanted to believe her. He wanted it more than anything in his life.

He lightly touched the base of the plug. Her muscles contracted around it, a pleasure reflex. “Do you like it?”

“I didn’t at first. It was weird. I did it because you wanted me to. I thought it would be something I would endure because it would bring you pleasure.”

“And now?”

“I dream about it, Master. I dream about you fucking my asshole and taking what’s yours.”

She was going to make him come with nothing but sweet words.

There was no question about it. He could fuck her and she would love it. He would love it.

All he had to do was take out that plug and shove his cock in. He could get off fast and then maybe he would be able to think. He could take what he needed and retreat again.

“Turn over.” He couldn’t handle using her the way he had before. He might not know what to do with her outside of the bedroom, but he was going to be her true Master in it. A Master took care of his sub first.

She carefully lowered herself to the couch and rolled over. Her eyes stared up at him warily. Did she think he would dismiss her now? Maybe laugh at her for years of service?

“Thank you, love.” He picked up her right foot, bringing it to his lips and kissing her toes. They were ticklish. He could torture her for hours by playing with her feet. What he’d never told her was he hadn’t done it because he wanted to punish her. He just loved to hear her laugh.

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

He bit gently at her toes and she practically jumped. “I think it’s entirely weird, and you’re the most perverted woman I’ve ever met. Lucky for you I have a thing for perverts.”

“Ian, don’t.” She tried to wiggle her foot away.

He tightened his grip. “You don’t tell me what to do when we’re in the bedroom.”

She whimpered a little. “You know I hate that, Master.”

“But I love it.” Most subs hated the whip or being caned, but not his Charlie. She hated having her feet tickled. Unfortunately for her, he loved to do it.