#2 Dangerous Games (22 page)

The restrained elegance, controlled lusts, and blatant disregard for the normal rules of sexual privacy were on the verge of freaking her out. Doing something in a shadowed corner or within a large crowd was one thing. The hall of windows into the bedrooms provided for sexual play, and Hawkins' display while calmly sitting within a discussion group, was another.

She knew the role she was there to play. The defiant submissive unwilling to actually submit. And if she wasn't mistaken, she had caught sight of the suspect she had been trying to keep an eye on upstairs several nights before in one of those window rooms.

He didn't appear any nicer to the woman he had facedown on that bed than he had acted upstairs to the uninitiated women dipping their toes into the lifestyle. Morganna was certain Roberto Manuelo was involved with the drugs. He socialized often with the three men who were arrested for dosing the drink last week, and since the arrest he was a shadowy figure rarely seen in the clubs.

The underground clubs Drage ran explained why Manuelo wasn't seen entering or leaving the main entrance of the building and yet could be glimpsed occasionally on the main floor. The underground private parking would allow him just that sort of entrance as well, but watching it was a hazard. Drage allowed no vehicles to park along the back entrance to the club without permission and it was the only spot to get a proper view of the entrance that led beneath the club.

Shaking her head, Morganna moved to a gleaming porcelain sink and waved her hand beneath the sensor. Warm water sprayed out onto her hands, dampening them before she brought them to her face.

Soft towels were folded to the side, and she shook one out with a snap before drying her face and forcing her equilibrium back where it belonged. Out of her throat. Damn, she never thought she could get so flustered just watching another woman give a blow job. Or another couple having sex. Or anal sex.

Her butt clenched as she braced her hands on the sink and she drew in a deep breath. She had to go back out there.

Oh God. She was not ready for this. She was not this blatant about sex.

Morganna drew in a deep breath, straightened her top. then turned and moved back into the hallway.

She was not going to look into those windows.

Four windows down she stopped. Drawing in a deep breath again, she stared into the room, mesmerized by the sight of the couple.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The female half of the duo was tied to the four posts of the bed, spread-eagled and obvious in a world of her own. Between her thighs, her guy was doing some real lip action against her bare pussy. Lips.

Tongue. Teeth. He licked, sucked, nibbled, and his lover's lips moved frantically as she pleaded for release.

Morganna was not a voyeur. This should not be turning her into one.

But it was. She could feel the liquid heat between her thighs as she forced herself to turn away, lower her head, and rush through the hallway. Damn, some things were just wrong. Getting turned on watching a stranger have sex was just so wrong, on so many levels.

As Morganna moved back into the main area, she kept her head down. She wasn't going to look. She didn't want to see sex. She didn't want to think about sex. She wanted to have sex.

As she moved back to Clint he caught her wrist, drawing her to his lap rather than allowing her to sit down once again. She expected to perch on his knees, but when he drew her farther back, lifting her legs over the side of his, she stared back at him in surprise.

He continued his conversation with Drage. Something about a new club Drage was considering? It was hard to keep track of the conversation when Clint's hand was stroking high on her thigh.

God, she needed a drink.

His free hand pressed her head against his shoulder while his hand stroked over the skirt to her hip.

This was so not fair. She was already so hot she was about to go up in flames. She had never had any defenses where his touch was concerned, and it was disconcerting to realize how easy it would be to lie there, to let him touch her, no matter the eyes watching them.

He was relaxed, comfortable, in this setting. And it was obvious he had done this before. Touched a woman as others watched, caressed her. Made her moan.

Morganna jerked at the sound of the soft whimper of desire that passed her lips.

"Clint, that's enough." His hand was moving beneath the edge of her skirt, his fingers caressing in small, mesmerizing circles.

At her words, he paused as his hand tightened in her hair.

"My body," he murmured softly then. "Remember? To do as I please.

"This wasn't the agreement." No, it was the act.

She tightened as his fingers slipped beneath her skirt.

"No." Her legs tightened, her senses aware of the eyes watching.

His hand paused again.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Morganna was aware of the sudden silence of the group around them.

His hand tightened in her hair again; then his head lowered and his lips covered hers. And God, he could kiss. His lips dominated hers, his tongue ravished her mouth, and her nerve endings began to flame in need despite the eyes watching.

Morganna curled her fingers into the material of his shirt as she fought her hunger, her arousal. This wasn't the place. She was his lover, not his toy. In this arena, she would always be a toy. To him. To the men who watched her. And this arena was something Morganna would never submit to. She knew it.

Clint knew it. And the enemy knew it.

She jerked back from him, scrambling from his lap as he stared up at her with a dark frown. There were too many eyes watching her. Too much lust whipping around her, inside her. Her own emotions were suddenly frightening, because she knew, to the soles of her feet, that being Clint's toy might not be so bad. And it might be all she could have, unless miracles occurred and the battle she often saw raging in his eyes stilled to acceptance.

Loving her and accepting it would be two different things with Clint. Whereas to her, they had gone hand in hand all her life.

"I said no," she repeated softly. "Not here. Not like this."

She turned on her heel and stalked across the room, back to the elevator and escape. They had discussed this. Gone through the act more than once. But as she stalked away from him, she felt the pervasive little thrill of arousal, the suspicion that perhaps she wouldn't have made a bad submissive, if Clint had been the one teaching her.

ROBERTO WATCHED THE COUPLE AS he stood in the shadows of the private hallway that led to the window rooms. He had been finishing the little bitch he had leashed several nights before when he saw her in the hallway.

Morganna Chavez. She had witnessed his men spiking the woman's drink last week and was the reason they now sat in jail, a threat to Diego Fuentes and all he worked for.

Morganna should be dead. If the bastard moving to follow her, his expression enraged, hadn't interrupted them, then she would have died beneath Roberto's knife.

He watched them leave, his eyes narrowed, a sneer twisting his lips. McIntyre wasn't known for allowing a woman to tell him no. He employed every trick he knew to gain his women's cooperation and sexual submission before turning from them to find another.

But none of them had been Morganna. They had resembled her, but they weren't her. Clint McIntyre obviously lusted greatly for this woman.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Diego would be very interested in this, Roberto decided. It was something they could use. McIntyre was known for his sexual excesses; the drug would not offend a sense of morality that wasn't present.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to get rid of the Chavez girl. A smile twisted Roberto's lips as he moved into the reception area and headed for the elevators himself. He must meet with Diego and see exactly how they should handle this development.

Killing two birds with one stone may well please his boss.

HE KNEW THE PARTY WAS a mistake; thankfully the small gathering hadn't been too important and Morganna had played her part excellently. Perhaps too well.

She had silently challenged and defied every unwritten rule that governed the Dom(me)/sub lifestyle. And in doing so had every fucking male in the room panting after her. Clint had had to tamp down every possessive instinct he knew to keep from slamming heads together and shoving their eyes back in their heads.

Clint led Morganna into his apartment later that night as he ground his teeth together, fighting to keep his temper.

"That went very well," Morganna commented as she moved to the side of the room, watching as he made his way through the apartment to check it out carefully. "And Manuelo was there. I'm sure I saw him in the other hallway just before we left."

Clint wasn't going to say a damned word. If he did, only God knew what he would say or how he would say it. She made him crazy. How the hell was he supposed to work with her when all he could think about was fucking her? Proving to those jackasses drooling after her exactly who she belonged to.

He stalked into the bedrooms, checked the windows, made sure the clear tape he kept over the seals was still in place. It was. No prints marred it, and the wood around it hadn't been disturbed.

She didn't move from her position beside the door until he came back into the main room, his jaw bunching with the effort to keep his mouth shut as she straightened from the wall and arched her brows at him.

A beer. God, he needed a beer. He stomped into the kitchen, jerking the refrigerator door open and pulling one from the interior. He twisted the cap off with a savage motion before tilting it to his lips.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"So, did you get your cock pierced the same time you got the vasectomy, or did you have to wait?"

He snorted his beer, choking on the bitter dregs as the words slammed into his head. The minute he managed to get his breath he leaned his head against the freezer door, grinding against it as his arms hung slack at his sides. God save him.

He had known she wouldn't be able to hold it in long. He was amazed she had lasted this long.

"The piercing came first. A drunken night in Bangkok with the guys after a mission." He shook his head as he straightened. "Can I take a drink of this beer now or do you have any other questions?"

Her lips pressed together as she glided into the living room. A flip of her wrist tossed her purse to the nearby chair as she moved to where she could see him more clearly.

"Did Raven know about it?" Morganna's eyes were narrowed, her chin lifting defiantly as her gaze met his.

"It didn't exactly come up in conversation," he assured her. "As far as I know, she's unaware of it."

He took a fast draw on the bottle, praying Morganna kept her mouth shut. He needed something stronger; too bad he didn't keep it on hand.

"Why did you do it?"

"That should be obvious," he said as he faced her. He felt like a man facing a firing squad.

He watched as she swallowed tightly, not from nerves; there wasn't a hint of nervousness in her.

"I don't believe you never wanted children," she stated fiercely, her expression tight with suspicion.

"You're too good with them."

"I don't want any of my own." He tried to keep his voice calm, casual. Despite the lie. He would have loved to see her carrying his child, her belly ripe with pregnancy. A perfect little form created from what he knew burned inside him for her. And all he could hear was that child's cries.

"Don't make me ask why again," she warned him softly. "I'll start guessing soon, Clint, and you won't like what I'm coming up with."

He lifted a single brow easily, forcing mockery to his expression, watching the hurt that flashed across her eyes.

"There's no mystery, Morganna," he finally sighed, hating the shadows in her eyes. "I'm rarely home and my job isn't exactly the safest one going. I don't want to leave a child of mine an orphan. Condoms aren't always effective to prevent pregnancy-"

"I hate it when you lie to me," she said, anger thickening her voice as he stared back at her in surprise.

"You know, Clint, I overhead Reno and Dad talking one night, a few months before Mom and Dad were killed."

He flinched. "Yeah?" He smirked as he lifted the beer again.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Thankfully she gave him time to fortify himself before she continued.

"Reno thought your father was beating you before he died. Was he?"

Clint stared back at her silently. He hadn't known Reno had suspected. He had thought he kept it hidden so well.

"Every time your father came home and caught your mother out, you would stay 'sick' for days. He was beating you, wasn't he?"

Clint kept his expression bland, his face relaxed. He didn't grit his teeth; he didn't let the fury claw at his guts. He couldn't. Not in front of Morganna.

"Oh God...." Her voice sent a chill up his spine, but her eyes broke his heart. They filled with pain, with tears.

"Don't you fucking cry," he suddenly snarled desperately. "You cry and by God I'm putting you on a plane straight to Hawaii. You can crash Reno's fucking honeymoon with my damned blessings."

It broke him, those tears. Morganna couldn't cry. And by God, he would not let her cry over him.

"He was beating you." Clint watched her fight for control. "That's why you would spend days in bed.

Raven would worry herself sick because you never seemed to run a fever, but you didn't want to move."

He couldn't move. There were times he wondered if the old man had broken bones. Raven, thank God, had been too young to realize exactly what was going on, and Clint's father had always made certain she wasn't home when the beatings took place, and the belt marks were never higher than his shoulders or lower than his hips, so she had never seen them. As young as his little sister had been, she had no idea the hell her teenage brother was enduring at the time. And he wouldn't have had it any other way. He was older by ten years, and at that age he had always feared his father would strike out at the delicate sprite Raven had been if Clint hadn't been there to take his rage out on.