When he guards, p.5
When He Guards, page 5
Cass had never been particularly lucky a day in his life.
So, he’d typically followed the mantra of…Screw luck. Live hard. Take what you want.
He had just taken what he wanted. And he’d do it again, too.
But, first, he needed to ditch this condom and grab another one.
She was also not responding to his question, so he took that moment to carefully pull out of her.
A soft gasp came from her lips, and he froze. “Did I hurt you?” Gruff. Hurting her had never been on his agenda. He made it a habit not to hurt delicate things in this world.
Despite the fact that she routinely carried a gun and could toss a mean bottle in a bar fight, Cass still considered FBI Agent Agnes Quinn to be one of the delicate things in the world.
“No, you didn’t hurt me. Though I wasn’t quite sure there for a minute. Things were a little, um, tight.”
Tell me about it. She’d been so tight and hot that he’d nearly lost his mind. All he’d wanted to do was slam into her. Again and again and—
I had to make it good for her. So he’d held onto his control with a death grip, until he’d felt her come around his cock.
He climbed from the bed. Stalked into the bathroom and ditched the condom.
You just fucked an FBI agent.
One who had, apparently, not been with a lover in years.
Yeah, he was gonna need to get an answer to his question. Why the hell did she decide to fuck me? Naked, he marched back into the bedroom, and, this time, he flipped on the overhead lights.
Illumination immediately flooded in the bedroom. Bright.
She grimaced and blinked from her pose on the bed. Not holding tight to the headboard any longer. Instead, Agnes had flipped around. She’d been crouching in the middle of the bed, as if she’d been about to jump out of the bed, and he could see her perfectly now. Every single inch. Those gorgeous breasts. Those silky legs.
The…
Knife wounds that rained across her stomach and abdomen.
His breath shuddered out. “What. The. Fuck?”
“Oh, you’re going to be difficult about this, aren’t you?” She grabbed the cover and hauled it over her body.
She had no idea. In two breaths, he was across the room. He yanked the cover off her and glared at the old scars. Stab wounds. He should know. He had some, too. But he slowly and carefully counted the thin, white lines that cut into her soft skin. He touched each one.
Seven. She’d been stabbed seven fucking times.
His breath sawed in and out as a killing rage filled his blood. Slowly, his gaze rose.
Her eyes widened as she took in his expression. “Uh, Cass?”
“Tell me his name.” All he needed was a name. He would be able to find the bastard. Put him in the ground. “And I’ll kill him for you.”
Chapter Four
She had the naked leader of the Strikers offering to kill for her.
Not exactly what Agnes had put on her bingo card for the day but…
She’d take it, thanks.
Holy hell, but the man is hot. The overhead light poured plenty of illumination on them, and her gaze kept darting over his chest. His very broad chest. Powerfully muscled. A chest that also had its share of swirling tats. A tiger with razor-sharp claws. A skull with burning eyes. A big phoenix over his left shoulder, with its black wings spread.
And…maybe her gaze also dropped. Went down, down to see his—
“Name,” Cass bit out. “You think I don’t know the marks left from a knife’s blade when I see them?”
Her stare whipped up to lock with his blazing eyes. With her left hand, she also tugged the bedspread up to cover her body.
As to the marks on her, he was correct. They had come from a blade. One that had been driven into her a very long time ago. A horrible night that had changed everything for her.
She’d stopped wanting to be an artist. She’d stopped seeing the beauty in the world. All she’d seen had been darkness. Especially when she watched as the man she loved be buried in that rainy cemetery. She hadn’t been able to tell the difference between her own tears and the rain.
She’d just stood there, crying, staring at the flowers on the grave as they got soggier and soggier, and her brothers had been so worried about her. They’d said she was too injured. Too weak. That she had to go. That it was time.
They’d finally carried her away from the gravesite. Until the day she died, Agnes was sure she’d remember crying into Ryan’s neck as he cradled her.
“Agnes.” Cass put his hand on her cheek.
She flinched.
He immediately began to pull back, but her right hand flew up to curl around his. She pressed his fingers to her cheek, harder, even as her left hand kept clutching the bedding to cover her body. “That’s really sweet of you to make the offer.”
“Sweet? You think it’s sweet to want to kill a man?”
She thought it was sweet that he’d offered to put someone in the ground for hurting her, yes. But… “I’m an FBI agent. You aren’t supposed to just casually talk about killing in front of me.”
His eyes gleamed. Darkness but…warmth.
She’d been in the darkness for years. Ever since the night that had changed her life. She’d come to enjoy the dark. And being with Cass, well, he was like darkness personified.
Was that the reason she was so drawn to him? She had no clue. But, when he’d asked his question…
Why the hell did I get to be the lucky bastard tonight?
Agnes hadn’t exactly had a response to give him. Saying that he’d made her feel alive for the first time in ages probably would come across as, uh, maybe far too over the top? Saying that when he touched her, her blood ignited? Nah, she couldn’t go with that one, either. Not like she wanted to inflate the man’s ego too much.
But both statements would have been the truth.
“Where is the sonofabitch?” Cass asked. His head tilted.
Cass made no move to cover his naked body. His very, very muscled, naked body. And his very big dick.
Apparently, talking about potential murders did not lessen his enthusiasm. Interesting point.
“Is he rotting in a jail cell?” Cass wanted to know.
“I suspect you have reach, don’t you?” she murmured. “Bet you can get to people in jail.”
He winked. Winked.
She took that as confirmation even as her lips pressed together. That wink of his was way too sexy. So was his muscled body. Those abs that just went on and on and on.
And the big, thrusting cock that went on and—
“Is he already in the ground? Did you put him there, sweet Agnes?”
No, not yet, she had not. But she was working on the goal “There really isn’t anything overly sweet about me. You shouldn’t be fooled on that one. Appearances can be deceiving.” It was the freckles. Or at least, she figured the freckles threw people off. They saw the scattering of freckles over her nose, thought she was all cute and innocent and, bam…they never saw her attack coming. Not until it was too late.
She’d had a trainer at Quantico who said she should always use her size, her appearance, and even her freckles to her advantage. If people wanted to underestimate her, that would just be their fatal mistake.
Cass’s hand slid down a bit. His thumb brushed over her lower lip. “Appearances are deceiving. But when it comes to you not being sweet? Ah, on that, I completely disagree.” Deeper. Rougher. “That mouth of yours was very sweet when it was on my dick.”
Was she blushing? Now? Yes, she was. The curse of being a redhead.
“And when my mouth was between your legs…oh, yes, talk about sweet.”
Her thighs squeezed together. She was still feeling wonderful little aftershocks every now and then.
His hand pulled away. “So…?” His arms crossed over his chest as he backed up. One step. Two.
“So…what?” Was she missing something?
“Is this the part of the night where you run away? You fucked the villain. You walked on the wild side. Now you can rush back to your safe world, and this will just be our secret.”
“Our secret.” She nodded. Not like she’d expected the guy to ask about dating her. This was a one-night stand. Sure, she’d never had one until this very moment, and, honestly, she was delighted by the results so far, but that part about running away didn’t sit too well with her.
She glanced toward the window just as a strike of lightning flashed. She caught the flash through the curtains that didn’t completely block the outside world. Agnes sucked in a breath.
Thunder boomed.
“Seems like a storm is coming.” Her head tilted as she focused on Cass once more. “And the night isn’t over. Isn’t the point of a one-night stand—isn’t the point that it lasts for a whole night? Not like it’s a one-hour stand. It’s a one-night stand.” Judging by that eager cock, he was certainly ready to go again.
So was she.
“You’re too sore for more.”
Oh, was she? “Then I guess it’s your job to make me forget any pain. Think you’re up for that challenge?”
His hands fell to his sides. He took a surging step toward her. Then caught himself. “This is your chance to run.”
Cute. She tossed aside the covers. “I thought this was my chance to fuck the villain.” His words from earlier. “The night is young.” Another strike of lightning. “Some people are scared of storms,” she said as her nipples tightened and she remembered how utterly amazing he’d felt inside of her. “But, me? I like the rain. It washes away the pain.” Sometimes, she thought a part of her had died in the rain at that cemetery. Then she’d been born again—born with the goal of getting vengeance. “I’ll dance in the rain and laugh while the lightning strikes.”
He climbed into the bed with her. Didn’t touch her, not yet. “That’s dangerous.”
She reached out to touch him. Her fingers slid over the powerful muscles of his chest.
“You like dangerous things, don’t you, Agnes?”
Yes, she did. The good girl that she’d been long ago would have run from danger. These days, all she did was run to it.
“Get on me,” he ordered. “Get on my dick, now.”
Her eyes widened.
He didn’t wait for her to comply. He caught her hips. Lifted her up. Settled her on top of him. Her legs were spread, one knee going down on either side of Cass.
“Grab a condom. Put it on me.”
Her hand reached out. On the second try, she opened the nightstand. Retrieved a condom. With more fumbling, she succeeded in actually getting the packet open. Yes, she was exceedingly clumsy and halting with the whole process. Not like she put condoms on guys all the time.
She pumped his dick. Slid her fingers over him. Very, very slowly, Agnes rolled that condom over his thick cock.
He hissed out a breath. “Don’t play.”
She wasn’t playing so much as trying not to tear the condom. But she bluffed with, “Why not? We have the rest of the night.”
“Get on my cock.”
“Tsk. Tsk. You could try asking nicely.”
He didn’t ask nicely. He did put his hand between her thighs where he proceeded to absolutely own her clit. Stroking and rubbing and pinching feverishly until her breath choked out and she moaned his name over and over again. She got wet and ready again, and she didn’t care if she was sore or if that big cock was going to stretch her when he drove deep into her.
She heaved her body up. She rose onto her knees, and she got onto his cock. She pushed down, and she took him inside of her. Not inch by inch. Not the slow way he’d done before.
All the way inside in one surge. Until he was as deep as he could go. Until her heart raced and her breath caught and she was precariously balanced on that tightrope of pain and pleasure again.
One of Cass’s hands stayed on her clit. His fingers stroked her more.
His other hand caught her right nipple. Played and tormented.
“Up, FBI Agent Quinn.”
She went up on her knees.
“Down,” he gritted out.
She was already surging down. Going up. Coming down. Moving fast and frantically because need blasted through her, and she loved the rake of his fingers on her clit and the way his dick pushed so deep inside of her.
Her hands fell onto his chest as she leaned forward, changing the angle of his penetration, and, oh, that was even better. Even stronger. Even—
She came. Bam. Detonation. Just exploded and she could barely choke out a breath.
“You feel incredible when you come for me. I feel it. Your pleasure squeezing me…”
Her inner muscles were clamping greedily around him.
In the next breath, he’d tumbled her back onto the bed until her shoulders slammed into the mattress. “My turn.”
Yes, fine, he could have all the turns that he wanted.
Lightning flashed again.
A hard roll of thunder.
He caught her legs and draped them over his shoulders.
She gasped as he went in her even deeper.
His thrusts were fierce and fast. Uncontrolled. He pounded into her again and again, and she caught the tangled covers and her hands fisted on them.
This wasn’t nice sex. Not easy. Not gentle.
It was body-churning. Soul-stealing. Heart-racing fucking.
He fucked her hard, and she shoved her hips back up against him with every maddened thrust because she absolutely loved it. She didn’t need to think about the future or the past. It was just their bodies, colliding together. Insane sex. Earth-shattering pleasure.
He erupted into her again.
And she was right there with him, riding that blast of pleasure as the storm raged around them.
“You need to stay out of my bar.”
Oh, yes, that was hardly the…You’re the best lover I’ve ever had and please, please stay with me plea that Agnes had maybe, sorta, kinda hoped she’d get when morning dawned.
Her eyes opened.
Surprise, surprise, Cass was fully awake. Fully dressed. Standing beside the bed, glowering at her while she was naked and tousled and probably looking super, super scary. Mornings were never her best time. Especially when she hadn’t gotten her coffee. So she squinted at him.
“Do not come slumming on my side of town. Stay out of all the bars I frequent. Out,” he emphasized. “I won’t be able to save that gorgeous ass again. You don’t jump into a brawl. That should be, like FBI 101.”
“Coffee,” she croaked. She’d done a fair amount of screaming during the night. His fault, one hundred percent. The man should not have been so incredible.
His dark brows shot together. His hands were on his jean-clad hips. He wore a faded gray shirt, and he looked almost disgustingly good with the hard stubble on his jaw.
Someone is gorgeous and all chatty in the mornings. A mental note she made about him.
“Coffee before conversation,” she rasped. “Pretty…ah, please.” Because her mother had taught her manners. Granted, her mother never needed to know about this awesome one-night stand, but…still.
Manners.
Her mother and her brothers. They should never know.
Some things would just stress them out unnecessarily.
“I don’t have coffee here. I never drink it.”
She gasped. The sound held utter shock. Maybe some betrayal, too. “You monster.”
He frowned at her. “What?”
“Mon…ster.” So her manners had gone out the window.
“Agnes, I’m being serious.”
She was, too. She was also increasingly awake, aware, and realizing…I have no idea how to handle a morning after with him. She’d been way too open and vulnerable with him during the hours of darkness. She hadn’t slept with anyone—like, actually slept in a bed with another human being—in years. And as far as the sex was concerned…
Years. It had been years.
Apparently, when she decided to jump back in the sex pool, she went straight for the deep end. Without any sort of floatation device.
She glanced down at herself. At least she was covered up. Mostly. “Is this the walk of shame portion of the event?”
“Agnes.”
“In the bright light of day…” Her voice wasn’t quite as husky, but she could seriously have used some coffee. “I don’t quite want to prance around naked in front of you.”
“Why the hell not?” Cass demanded. “I had my mouth on every inch of you last night.”
As if she needed the reminder.
She held out her hand. “Would you please pass my shirt to me?”
He did not. He did put a big sweatshirt in her extended hand. Big, black, soft.
“It’s cold outside,” he said gruffly. “That’s better than the thin shirt you wore last night. It will give you way more coverage.”
“Fine. I’ll, ah, bring it back to you.”
“Keep it.”
She sat up in bed, still clutching the shirt in her grasp. “Have you seen my panties?” Her voice was prim. How could she be prim when she asked about her panties? Yet, she was.
“They were ripped to pieces, sweetness.”
Oh, right, they had been. “And my bra?”
He dangled it from his fingertips. She snatched it from him and nearly fell from the bed.
A ghost of a smile lingered on his handsome lips. “I wish I was a different person,” he said.
Wait, what?
“Because in another life, I’d never, ever let you the hell out of my bed, Agnes Quinn.”
Had she just imagined those words?
“I’ll give you privacy to dress since you don’t want to be prancing around naked in front of me.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched for the door. “By the way, your purse is on the chair over here. Thought you might want it, so I got it out of the saddlebag for you this morning.” Cass shut the door after he exited.
She dressed. Quickly. With knees that shook and thighs that trembled. She put on her skirt, her bra, her shirt, and then his sweatshirt. His sweatshirt swallowed her, falling past the hem of her skirt. It was warm and carried a crisp, masculine scent. His scent. Wearing it was like being wrapped in him.
