Beg For Me by Sierra Cartwright

Chapter Six

Sometime in the middle of the night, Torin awakened to an empty bed. He wasn’t surprised. The shock had been that Mira had fallen asleep in his arms.

After the edge had been filed off his urgency, he’d taken her to his room, secured her to the bedposts, fucked again, and then untied her so they could make love.

In her exhaustion, she curled up in the crook of his arm, for once letting down her formidable guard. He’d never wanted to let her go.

A gentle sound drifted on the night air, and he focused his senses, listening deeper, sifting out the background noises to discern what was different. Water?

He glanced at the clock. 2:47 a.m.

Perhaps she was exercising. But it wasn’t loud enough for that. Curious, he pulled on a pair of sleep pants and went in search of her.

The lights in the main area were off, but the bathroom was bright. Water rushed from the faucet. Then suddenly, there was silence. The door was open a crack, and he knocked on it. “Mira?” Without waiting for an invitation, he entered.

She was chest deep in the enormous clawfoot tub, resting her nape against the rim.

“Room for me?”

“Are you serious?”

He dropped his pants, and she grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” She sat up to pull out the drain plug.

“Stay there.” Behind her, he stepped into the tub. “Damn! It’s hot.”

As she had no doubt guessed, the moment he sat, water sloshed over the rim.

Together, they laughed, and it occurred to him that it might have been the first time they’d done that at the same time, from pure, stupid joy. Neither their jobs nor their personalities were given to light moments. Had he always been so serious? Or had events honed him?

When enough water had drained, she replaced the plug, then scooted back, trying to find a comfortable position between his legs. “You’re ginormous, Commander Carter.”

“We’ll fit. It will just be tight.”

“I think you like it that way.”

“Your deductive reasoning skills are spectacular.” He grinned.

“Hallie calls it spy shit.”

“Could be more accurate than either of us want to admit.” He laughed. “I like your friend.”

“She doesn’t have a lot of filters.”

“It’s refreshing.”

“You weren’t upset?”

“Not in the least. Come closer.”

Surprising him, she did. He adjusted their positions so he could fold his arms around her. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I drifted off, for a short while.” After a few seconds, she allowed herself to relax against him. “But then… Just a little restless, I suppose.”

“Want to talk about it?” When she hadn’t replied after a full minute, he tried again. “Did having sex bother you? Cross boundaries?”

“That’s not it.” She moved a hand through the water. “Or maybe it is. I don’t regret it. It was freaking sexy. But…”

This time he waited.

“It was different than ever before. Hell. You seem to see me differently than anyone else ever has.”

“You like to keep the real you hidden deep inside?”

“I’m not unique.” Maybe because of what they’d shared, what she wanted him to understand, she didn’t argue. “I think we all want to protect ourselves. At least to some degree.”

For a while, the silence stretched between them, with only an occasional passing car disturbing the quiet.

“Even you won’t let me see your vulnerabilities,” she added. “It’s safer that way.” She placed her fingertips on an upraised knee. “Or we like to think so, right? Things happen, but we don’t talk about them. Instead, we go through our lives hiding. It’s less risky that way.”

And maybe because of their intimacy, he didn’t argue. “You’re asking about my nightmare.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

It had taken him hours to throw off the disorientation and shove the combination of memories and horrific imaginings back into the deep recesses of his mind.

“Does Hawkeye know how bad it can be?”

He’d been one of the only people Torin confided in. “He does.”

“Have you talked to anyone? I mean a professional.”

“I did. Hawkeye didn’t give me a lot of choice.” The dreams had been fewer and further between, less intense. Until Mira. “My partner was killed in the line of duty.”

“I…” Her body went rigid, and he stroked her shoulder reassuringly. “Sorry. I had no idea.”

Mira pulled away and moved to the far end of the tub. When she was as far away as possible, she turned around to face him.

Sex with her had been damn good for him too. Until he was inside her, he’d had no idea how much he craved human contact. Not just anyone. Mira. She hadn’t needed to save him from the nightmare, then stay with him until he was out of its throes, but she had. Seeing her with Arthur had flooded him with rage, an emotion no other woman had triggered in him.

She was owed an explanation. No longer hiding, he met her beseeching gaze. “Her name was Ekaterina. We were working security at a football match—soccer to the rest of the world. In Mexico.” Time hadn’t diminished the memories, the colors, screams, chaos. In fact, it had sharpened each image, fine-tuning them with details he’d missed on that bright, cloudless day. “There was a duffel bag on the ground next to a trash can. Black. Canvas.” He could recount the brand name, the exact dimensions.

Torin called the authorities.

He and Ekaterina were instructed to clear the area without causing undue panic. “There was a man who pushed past her. Ekaterina must have assumed he was a good guy. Instead of calling out a warning, she threw herself on the bomb. He detonated it remotely and took them both out.”

Mira wrapped her arms around her knees. “Oh, Torin.”

“If we had kept the perimeter like we should have…”

“That’s a horrible thing to live with.”

“There should have been something I could do to stop her.”

“It might never make sense.”

That was the worst thing of all. No matter how much time passed, regret and recrimination would follow him. “Come back to bed with me?”

A tiny furrow appeared between her eyebrows. How much was she willing to risk? She hesitated long enough that he straightened his back, steeling himself for her rejection.

“I’d like that.” She offered a slight, half-smile. “Make it worth my while?”

“What have you got in mind?”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something. Sir.”

* * *

“Breakfast?”Torin offered, opening the passenger door of his car.

Mira blinked, trying to moisturize her gritty eyes. It’d been a hellaciously long night. A popular starlet was getting married the following weekend, and as a last hurrah, she and seven of her bridesmaids had decided on New Orleans as stop one of their blowout bachelorette party.

They’d hopped in and out of bars, no matter how dubious they were. At three a.m., the bridal party—laden with Mardi Gras beads from flashing their breasts—had staggered into the Oubliette, a dive located off a fog-filled alley. After a round of cocktails labeled A Short Trip to Hell, they had wanted to grab food—compliments, no doubt, of the entire can of energy booster in each drink.

It had been almost six a.m. when she and Torin saw them safely onto the elevator.

“I’m not sure what I want more,” she admitted when Torin slid behind the wheel. “A shower. Sleep. Or food. That was one of the most challenging assignments ever.”

“We needed more people. Who knew that eight women could be so much work?”

With a grin, she tipped her head back. Especially when one of them was so beloved and instantly recognizable.

“Some of them are going to regret the pictures on social media.”

No longer their problem. And the Hawkeye team in Las Vegas would have their hands full tonight when the bridal party landed at McCarran International. “Breakfast,” she decided.

He turned toward her. His blue eyes were narrowed and laced with promise, and maybe a layer of threat. Despite her exhaustion, nerve endings lit up.

“I can make sure you sleep well.”

She slid a little lower in her seat. No doubt he was right. And all of a sudden, she was thinking about skipping the chicken and waffles.

“Sustenance,” he decided for both of them, checking the mirrors before driving out of his parking spot. “I want you conscious when we have sex.”

His words and their inflection aroused her.

“Then we can pass out for a week.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” And unlikely. Over the past week and a half, she’d realized that he slept well, but only if she was in his bed.

Torin’s emotions were stoked like a furnace. He was possessive and demanding.

Consuming.

Yet she wasn’t strong enough to stay away from him, even though she knew he would eventually break her heart.

After clearing an intersection, he placed his hand on her knee. The gentle nonsexual touch ignited a flame that would burn until they arrived home.

Over breakfast at the Shamrock Grill, something that was becoming a tradition, they debriefed. After filing an update with Hawkeye from her cell phone, they marked themselves as unavailable for another mission for twelve hours.

When the bill came, he reached for it.

“I think it’s my turn.” Besides, she’d had extra chicken and juice as well as coffee.

“Oh. I insist. I wanted you to have energy, so this is all about me.”

She grinned. “In that case, take me home, Commander.”

The French Quarter was just waking up as they walked back to the car. The driver of a beer truck was loading cases of local brew onto a dolly. They cycle never ended, and already, some intrepid tourists were already out, making their way to Café du Monde for a plate of three perfect beignets.

Five minutes later, she and Torin were headed back to the Garden District.

He stopped in front of the estate to open the garage. “It’s been too long since I’ve had you across my lap.”

Of all the positions they used, that was her favorite.

“And enjoyed your screams.”

Her mouth dried. It was as if her cries sustained him.

“Mira?”

His voice, with its hint of a rich brogue, dragged her from her reverie. While she was lost, he’d parked the car. She gave him a slight smile. “Yes, Sir.”

He followed her up the stairs, then locked the door behind them when they were safely inside.

Torin swept his heated gaze over her, and her heart thundered.

He took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. Then he crooked his finger and pointed to a spot on the floor in front on him.

Her mouth dry, she stood where he indicated and remained still while he helped her out of her blazer. Taking care, he placed it on top of his.

She’d worn a slim-fitting tank top. Keeping his gaze on her, he fisted the material, then dragged it over her head.

“No bra?” Roughness gave his words a biting edge.

“It’s built in.”

He groaned. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Araceli.”

“No, Sir.” Until our next assignment.

She toed off her boots while he unfastened her pants and lowered the zipper.

“Jesus. God. Mary and Joseph.”

Normally she reserved her sexiest panties for time off, but his reaction was worth it. She lowered her head to hide her smile.

“If I’d had any idea what was beneath your clothes… All that lace?” He grabbed her pussy through her panties. “So wet for me.” He squeezed hard, painfully, arousing her to the point of screaming her pleasure. “Fuck, yes.”

He stripped off her panties, and she quickly undressed him. “My bedroom, Araceli.”

As he customarily did, he followed her down the hallway. For fun, she gave an exaggerated butt wiggle before flashing a wicked grin over her shoulder.

“Oh, Araceli. I can’t wait to have my hands on you.”

She walked a little faster.

In the room, he sat on the edge of the mattress. “This is for fun. And for no other reason.”

“Yes, Sir.” She draped herself over his lap, then braced her hands on the floor. Without instruction, she parted her legs slightly.

He light strokes, he played with her clit, making her squirm.

Without giving her any warning, he slapped her pussy hard.

She gasped. “Yes.” Her whole body lit on fire. With a sigh, she moved back into position.

Then he spanked her in earnest, on her buttocks, on her pussy, on her thighs. They were timed to arouse her, driving her to the brink.

Within a minute, she was begging for an orgasm. “I need…”

“You need?”

“Fuck me, Sir.” Her words were breathless. “Fuck me. Please?”

“How do you want it?”

“Anal.”

Torin helped her off his lap and stood her in front of him. “You’re serious?”

He’d fingered her there, and a couple of times they’d used butt plugs, but she’d never asked for it. Tonight, she wanted it rough.

His eyes were narrowed, and his cock jutted forward, hard and with a drop of pre-ejaculate glistening on the tip.

“Give me a second.” He grabbed a condom and a bottle of lube from a dresser drawer.

She forgot to breathe as she watched him roll the condom down the length of his impressive erection. Involuntarily, she shivered. Having that inside her tightest hole was going to be a challenge.

“On the bed,” he instructed. “Facedown.” He grabbed a pillow and helped her to place it beneath her belly. “Do you have any idea how red your ass is?”

“If it looks like it feels, yes, I have an idea.”

“It’s lovely.” He spanked her again on top of a couple of the welts, and she moved against the mattress, trying to achieve satisfaction. “Mine,” he reminded her. Then, the perfect Dom, he placed a hand between her legs.

“Oh, Sir!” Desperately, she thrust her hips back. “Take me.”

“Every part of you, mo shearc.”

She turned her head to watch him squirt a dollop of lube onto his fingers.

“You’re going to like this. Even if it’s uncomfortable.”

Especially then.

Slowly he inserted one slick finger into her anus, allowing her time to accommodate his touch. “Relax,” he said, sweeping her hair from her neck, tangling his fingers in it.

Mira closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing.

“Ready for more?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

He inserted a second finger, followed by a third. He stretched her, holding his fingers apart. It hurt, not badly, but enough that she wanted him to back off. She was going to ask him to stop, but he leaned over and kissed her exposed nape, distracting her.

“You’re doing well, Mira.”

A hundred pleasurable sensations danced down her spine.

He was attuned to her reactions. The second she relaxed and surrendered, he began to move in and out, simulating sex as he lubed her channel and widened her even more.

“Yes,” she finally said. “I want your cock.”

With deliberation, he withdrew his fingers. He caressed her for a short while, then promised to return in a few seconds.

While he went to the bathroom to wash his fingers, her body cooled, and tension started to creep through her. She was edgy, with adrenaline flooding her veins. She’d never been more alive.

“On all fours,” Torin instructed when he returned. The mattress sank as he knelt behind her. “Head down, and arch your back.”

When she was situated, he held her ass cheeks apart and pressed the yielding firmness of his cockhead against her opening. “Bear down.” He eased forward.

“God!”

Slowly, he withdrew, just a little.

It didn’t give her any relief.

“Doing okay?”

“Yes,” she lied. He was so hard, and this was far more intense than she’d imagined. “Just take me.”

Torin proceeded at his own pace, claiming her in slow measures, starting with shallow strokes, then going deeper a little at a time.

“Will you spank my ass, please?” Anything to distract her.

He did, and the sharpness of the pain took her focus way from the way her anus burned, heightening her pleasure immeasurably.

“Stroke your clit, Araceli.”

With his possession and her angle, that wasn’t easy.

“Sir—”

“Do not tell me no,” he warned.

She loved it when he was relentless with her. The fact that he’d demanded it meant it was possible.

Somehow managing to keep her balance, she toyed with her clit. He continued to spank her and occasionally reach beneath her to toy with one of her nipples.

Her vision swam, colors swirling, red and purple.

Torin drove his entire length inside her, forcing her forward. If he hadn’t grabbed hold of her waist, she would have pitched forward onto her stomach.

He paused while she got back into position. “That’s it.”

Now that she had accommodated him, her nerve endings hummed with pleasure. “Do me,” she pleaded.

“Goddamn, Araceli.” He rode her hard, pulling all the way out and then surging forward, again and again, fiercely claiming her.

Faster and faster, she stroked her clit. Her legs trembled as she thrust back into him. Then her world fractured. Powerful and unexpected, an orgasm crashed into her. She screamed his name.

“Hell,” he whispered, stroking her. “You’re sensational.”

“I want you to come.”

He placed one arm beneath her hips, holding her immobile as he continued to ride her.

Even though she was sore, his pleasure nourished her.

He shortened his strokes, and his breathing changed. His grip on her tightened, as if he were a desperate man.

Inside her, his cock swelled. “Sir… Master.”

His body went rigid, and he came in long pulses, and he growled with pure male satisfaction.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed—seconds? A minute?—while he stroked his fingers down her spine.

When he withdrew, it was as if their emotional connection was also severed. She scoffed at her own ridiculous idea. Torin wasn’t the kind of person to run or to abandon her.

“Stay right there.”

“I should shower.”

“You should wait,” he countered. “I’ll be right back.”

Of course the badass alpha would insist on caring for her. She made a small attempt to smile, but she couldn’t even manage that much.

He left, and she buried her face against her forearm. Even though she’d just given herself a pep talk, his absence left her bereft.

What the hell was wrong with her? She took a breath, telling herself it was hormones after something so intense. Malfunctioning brain chemistry.

It had to be because there was nothing else between them. They worked together, scened together, and that was the nature of their agreement.

No matter what, she couldn’t allow herself to get lost in Torin Carter.