Page 37

37

STAR

Conor’s hand remained glued to mine from the second we left the car to the moment we entered the old town of Dubrovnik. I knew why—he thought I might run off.

It was cute, really. And I wasn’t a woman built for cute. But Conor had a way of worming through my defenses. Earlier on had proven that. He was slippery and sly and just that perfect amount of charming to make me putty for him.

So, I let him hold my hand. Let him tug me close. He’d already given me more than he knew, so that was the least I could offer back.

Having visited the city before, its beauty didn’t come as much of a surprise to me, but Conor gaped at the slim streets, peering around corners while trying to hide the fact that he was seeking out Game of Thrones filming locations from me.

My lips twitched every time he decided he just ‘needed’ a selfie at some random place.

A quick panoramic picture of what I knew from his awed mutterings were Blackwater Bay and the harbor at Kings Landing, followed up by a shot of the Jesuit staircase when we wandered deeper into the heart of the city.

When he tried not to pose outside The Rector’s Palace, AKA, Qarth, I told him, “You’d make a terrible spy.”

He arched a brow at me. “Do you know how often I get to leave the US?”

His little problem with the NSA made his journey to find me even more… God help me, romantic.

Disgusted by the notion that I was turning flowery , I quipped, “Rarely by the looks of it. You’re being a total tourist. It’s bad for my rep.”

It didn’t stop me from letting him lead me around because he got a kick out of it, though, and his smile was hot enough to make up for the frigid temperatures.

A small street market sold preserved orange peel, which was both bitter and sweet on my tongue, and figgy bars that were impossible to chew but tasted damn good.

As we meandered through the labyrinthine streets, it actually hit me that this was the first time I was in a city, somewhere in Europe, without a mission on my mind.

It was fitting, I guessed, that not even today I’d be spared bloodshed.

We picked up pizza from one of the many take-out joints and chowed down on that as we continued Conor’s exploration. I put my foot down about walking around the old town walls, mostly because I didn’t feel like making myself a target—just because I wasn’t on a mission didn’t mean people wouldn’t recognize me and mistake my purpose in being here—and he stopped arguing when I pointed that out.

He blinked at me. Slowly. Then shook his head.

That was his reaction.

It was… visceral.

At first, I thought he was disappointed, but then I saw his tense jaw and mistook it for anger. It wasn’t my job to soothe his temper so I ignored him for a while and carried on eating the slice of pizza in my hand, then it registered.

Conor wasn’t normal.

Just like I wasn’t.

Moving closer to him, I whispered, “Are you turned on?”

His brow puckered. “Of course I am. We’re in the middle of a spy game. How couldn’t I be?”

“There is no game,” I retorted. “Plus, even if I were on a mission, we could die.”

His eyes gleamed. “But fuck, we’d have lived.”

“You’ve been stuck in your penthouse for too long,” I grumbled. “If my grandfather’s as all-fired powerful as he claims, then you should talk to him about forcing the NSA to let you travel. Spread your wings. You’ve got cabin fever of the brain.”

A crowd of people shifted toward us, evidently on one of the many tours around the old town, and he pushed up against me to avoid the mass of humanity.

That was when I felt his dick nudging my ass.

Rolling my lips inward to hide my smile, I muttered, “I don’t know what you’re doing with that.”

“Me either.” His free hand slipped around my waist and he pressed down against my stomach. “Do you know what’s hot?”

“What?” I asked, amused.

“That you don’t know how hot you are.”

I snorted. “Thanks. I think.”

He tutted. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll know.”

My brows rose. “When do you think you’ll be done with me?”

“When I’m ninety-nine.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that answer. Hadn’t expected it at all. I cleared my throat. “You can’t say that to people.”

“You’re not people,” he pointed out, snagging my languishing piece of pie before it tumbled to the ground thanks to my lax grip.

“I'm not?”

“Nah. You’re not.”

Was that heartburn?

It spread throughout my chest.

It was warm.

It burned.

Yeah, I thought uncomfortably. Heartburn.

I cleared my throat again and watched as he ate the remainder of my pizza. “You owe me another slice.”

“I also owe you gelato.”

“I forgot it was winter.” My nose crinkled. “I’m already cold enough.”

“How about hot chocolate? There has to be somewhere around here?—”

A small popping sound pinged to life to my right. The stone wall beside me exploded where the projectile hit, leaving a mid-sized hole behind and sending debris over my winter coat.

Heart pounding as I realized I’d just been shot at, I grabbed Conor’s hand and dragged him down an alley. That was the best part of the city—lots of hidey holes.

As I maneuvered us down the small lanes, I muttered, “You just had to wish it upon us, didn’t you?”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for you to be shot at.”

“Has your boner gone at least?” I grumbled.

He huffed. “My dick doesn’t react to bullets like it does to the sight of your tits.”

“Good to know,” was my mocking retort.

By the time we were away from the small market square where I’d been targeted, we were at the other end of the old town.

Once there, I sucked in a breath, dug my phone out of my vest, and just as my screen opened, I got in an incoming call.

“D!” I greeted.

“Who’s D?”

“Dead To Me,” I whispered to him.

“Ah.”

“If you’re going to go AWOL on me, Star, then you could at least have the decency to call me to tell me you’re not missing anymore.”

She sounded pissed.

I grunted. “Sorry, D. I got caught up in some shit.”

“I can see that. The mad hacker’s finally caught up with you.”

“He isn’t—” I paused. Well, okay, he was. “Yeah, but wait! How did you know we’re together?”

“Got you in my scope.” A red dot appeared beside us, making Conor jerk in surprise then drag me from the wall and into a nook a few feet away. D snorted in my ear. “Tell him to stop being so jumpy.”

My lips twitched. “She isn’t going to shoot us, Conor.”

“That’s her?!”

“Yeah. She was showing me her location.” The red light gleamed again, and this time, I twisted around and used it to find her nest on the old town walls. I pointed to her then retorted, “Told you it was a good idea not to go up there. We’d have been running around the damn perimeter trying to escape a shooter.”

“Nothing to escape now. Dude’s dead.”

My brows rose at her sly comment. “Already?”

“Yup. Temper told me to get my ass over here ASAP so I did. Only just fucking landed and she buzzed me again to tell me you were heading into the city.” She groused, “I’m hurt that my psycho cousin knows your location better than I do, Star.”

“Don’t talk to me about your cousin, Cin. I swear to fuck, the next time I see her, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

“What did she do this time? That good girl act is what really gives me the creeps.”

“Me too,” I agreed, mock-shuddering, knowing she’d be doing the same thing as well. “She’s a part of the United Brotherhood.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Temper’s in that secret society Bear uncovered?”

“Yeah. Apparently, you and I are too naughty to be chosen,” I scoffed.

“Good. If they accept members like my cousin, that’s not a group I want to be a part of!”

“Actually, you’re right. They’re going to help me though.”

“With the Sparrows?”

“Yeah. Like, hardcore.” I rubbed my nose. “I have a lot to tell you, Cin. Sorry I didn’t call to catch up. The last two days have been insane. I only got let out yesterday?—”

“Let out? So you were being imprisoned. I got a text message from Maxim Lyanov telling me you were being kept in the dungeons of Petrovsky Palace. We blew the fucking place up only to learn there aren’t any dungeons there! Talk about a shit show. I’m nothing without your hacking skills, Star. Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

I had to laugh. “What got caught in the blast?”

“A couple of people, unfortunately. No deaths though. Just scrapes. We burned down a few trees in the neighboring park, but that couldn’t be helped. Oh, and they won’t be cooking out of that kitchen for a while.”

“I’m surprised Lyanov got in touch with you.”

“No more than I was. He got knocked out by the blast?—”

Conor, having heard most of the conversation secondhand, chimed in, “The Moscow Bratva has dethroned him as Pakhan because of that rescue attempt. His brothers in New York said they were going to evacuate him and take him back to the city. I don’t know if they managed it or not.”

“They did,” Cin answered. “He’s recuperating in Bellevue Hospital. He doesn’t lead the Bratva anymore. They’re calling themselves The Forgotten Boys. I think it’s like Peter Pan but turbocharged and with knives.”

Guilt speared me. “Shit. I promised to cement his ties with the leadership, not destroy them.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll have more power this way and he won’t have to answer to Russia,” Conor reassured me. “The moment his brother told me he tried to rescue you, I said we backed him to the hilt. He doesn’t need Moscow anymore.”

I stared at him, feeling that weird heartburn start to flare up again.

Why did he have to keep saying shit like that?

Absentmindedly, I patted his shoulder in gratitude then rubbed my chest where the ache was getting stronger.

That was all I needed—to have a fucking heart attack in Dubrovnik!

“Okay, so who tried to kill me?”

“Remember Munoz?”

“I’m assuming we’re not talking about the NFL player,” Conor said dryly.

“No,” I said with a snort. “He’s a merc.”

“A dead one now.”

“Aww, thanks, Cin. What did I do this time?”

“He was acting on his own.”

I lifted a brow. “Jesus, he must have been really pissed about Piraeus.”

“What happened in Piraeus?” Conor whispered.

“I shot him in the ass.”

He snorted. “Only you.”

“It was a good shot!”

“It was also ten years ago,” Cin drawled. “That man knew how to hold a grudge. Anyway, I’ve got jet lag. Do you think you can manage not to get captured, shot, or arrested within the next six hours so I can catch up on some Zs?”

My lips twitched. “What would I do without you, D?”

“I don’t fucking know. And tell Conor that I dealt with the senator in Arkansas.”

“He can hear. Which senator?”

“Sparrow. Kept a slave in his basement.”

“Bastard,” I hissed.

“Dead bastard now. I’ll deal with the corpse.” She grunted. “Munoz, I mean. Then I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay. I’ll text you with my coordinates so you can come and stay with us. You’re shit with a computer, but you can help us out.”

“Charming,” she huffed.

With dead air in my ear, I turned to him. “So, that’s how you’re whittling down the ones who deserve to die? You hired Dead To Me?”

He grimaced. “Some are special cases. McClure, in this instance, is popular with his constituents. I wasn’t about to let him, or the others, get away with serving a week in jail only to get miraculously let out.”

“They wouldn’t?—”

“Davidson’s campaigning for re-election and both parties are making the outed Sparrows integral to their campaign. They’re offering massive promises they can’t keep, but who knows what’ll happen in the next couple months? It could be all hot air and turds.”

“That’s one way of phrasing it.” I pursed my lips as I looked up at him. He was so fucking gorgeous . Especially when he started talking about murdering my enemies. “How’s your dick?”

“You don’t want to know.”

I cleared my throat. “Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

He stilled. “Aching. Hard.”

“For me? Or the adrenaline?”

“You, Star. Fuck. Always you.”

The heartburn made yet another reappearance.

I stared up at him, feeling myself getting lost in the darkening shadows as the sun began to set.

That was when I came to a decision—I pushed us deeper into those shadows, away from where D’s dancing red dot had enabled me to find her nest, and I pinned my hands on either side of his head.

“How do you feel about oral?” I growled, my mouth hovering above his.

“Giving or receiving?”

“Receiving.”

“I’d be very amenable to it,” he choked out.

I let my tongue swipe across the seam of his lips, finding myself feeling more comfortable in the position of the aggressor. “Here?”

“Fuck. Don’t tease me,” he snarled, and the bite to his tone did things to my insides that made the heartburn look healthy.

My core lit up because that was for me . Not the set of holes that I’d represented to some men, but because I made him crave me . The past that was complicated and toxic intrigued him. It got him hard because his inner nerd was geeking out over being with a real-life spy. He wanted me .

I rested my hand over his cock, feeling his hardness, feeling the heat emanating from him.

“You once told me you don’t like hand jobs,” I breathed against his mouth.

“Before the shower, I didn’t.” His hips jerked forward. “It’s different with you,” he choked out.

There was a rough emphasis on the word ‘you.’

As in, nobody else.

Just me.

My core didn’t just light up. I turned radioactive. It was a wonder I didn’t start glowing.

Me .

Nobody had ever made me feel special before. Not even my ex, Maverick, who, I knew, had loved me at one point. Not as a friend, but as a partner. But what Conor could do with a few croaky words took me to a place I hadn’t known existed, one that probably hadn’t until I met him because he was carving it out as his own.

To thank him for his words, I pressed my lips to his. Then I nuzzled my nose against his jawline and gently suckled a spot on his throat. As my tongue palpated the tender skin, he rocked his head back against the stone wall and let me tease the sensitive area until I knew I’d left a mark.

I wanted to see that tomorrow morning.

I wanted to remember this moment.

I didn’t want to forget tonight.

With soft motions of my fingers, I shaped him through his jeans. I didn’t want to trigger him, only wanted him to adjust to the movement. Like he was trying to make sex special for me, I wanted the same in reverse.

Slowly, I dropped down, my nails running along the length of his torso as I settled on my knees. The cobblestones beneath me were cold and damp, and I’d ache later, but this was now, and now was all that mattered.

I let my lips drag over his still-covered dick, then I found the zipper with my teeth. I’d learned so many techniques during my time at Club Pervert, unwillingly, but the idea of putting it to good use, of bringing a man who cared about me pleasure, somehow seemed like the biggest revenge of all.

I tugged on the zipper and pulled it down. When he cursed under his breath as his cock appeared in the gap, I hummed and let my tongue run over it.

“No boxer briefs this time,” I murmured as I traced the thick vein that throbbed beneath my tongue.

“You keep making me come in them,” he bit off.

Fuck, that sent a zap of pleasure straight to my pussy.

Me . Again. He gave me ownership of that even though he did most of the work. I gave him release. I made him come in his pants.

My thoughts had me panting but I forced myself to focus as I concentrated on getting his cock wet.

“Oh, fuck,” he growled. “Can I touch your hair?”

His consideration filled me with gratitude, and when I moaned my assent, his fingers speared through my loose locks, the tips dragging against my scalp, not to force, just to urge me close.

When I delved inside his fly, he hissed as his dick flopped out. He was thick and hard and long. My pussy clenched at the thought of taking him. I knew he’d split me wide open, and those inches would pack a punch if he took me roughly.

I didn’t even think about it, just reacted—I rubbed my fingers between my legs, feeling the heat from my center start to filter through the denim.

Not forcing it, just exploring myself, with my other hand, I held the base of him before I started urging spit to gather around his shaft.

Following each vein with the tip of my tongue, I got him nice and wet then started sucking on the mushroom tip. He snarled under his breath, his fingers tightening around my hair for a split second before releasing me with what had to be a conscious effort.

As I familiarized myself with the flared tip, I started to rock back and forth against the tiny weeping slit there, already tasting his pre-cum and craving more of it.

“Fuck, Star, please,” he growled. “Stop fucking tormenting me.”

My lips curved at the plea, but the words lit me up inside. Gave me strength. I rubbed the area above my clit just for some friction, then I slowly started to take him inside my mouth.

With training came a loss of my gag reflex, something I intended to lose again seeing as it had been a long ass time since I’d sucked any prick’s dick. It satisfied me to work toward giving him that. To let him take advantage of a skill I’d never wanted to learn and had been forced to adjust to.

And how he bit off curses, groaning and grunting with every inch I managed to acclimate to, made it even more worthwhile, and my overachieving self was ever eager to please him.

With how wet he was, I slid all the way down in increments. When my nose rubbed his pubis, he was making garbled noises as if he’d forgotten the English language.

That was when I swallowed around him.

“Holy fucking shit,” he rasped, the words thick and dense, dropping to the floor as if they had weight to them. “This is… your mouth. Oh, Jesus. Thank you, baby. You’re so fucking good to me. Taking all of me. My bad girl. So fucking bad?—”

I’d inadvertently frozen when he’d started that sentence with ‘my.’

Good girl.

That was what I thought he’d say.

Those were words I did not want to hear.

But of course, he was Conor. And even when he was on cloud nine, when he was staring paradise in the face, he knew how to say the right thing.

That heartburn was back.

“My naughty girl. So fucking naughty,” he rasped again, making my fingers speed up above my clit. “That beautifully filthy mouth of yours. So perfect.”

I rumbled nonsense words around him just to hear him choke out a moan. Then I started to rock my head. His fingers clamped in my hair but he didn’t force the pace.

As I fucked him with my throat, I began to move faster, then, with my free hand, I dragged at his pants to create more space so I could reach into his fly and rub his balls together.

There wasn’t enough room, but the compression had him hoarsely groaning with the ecstasy that I gave him and made his hips snap forward.

And somehow, that gave my pleasure wings.

I came.

It was a bit like a sneeze in comparison to what he could give me, but it was better than a slap in the face.

What made it better was how I’d done it myself, how there’d been no wall to scale, but the real cherry on the sundae was when he whispered his thanks as I swallowed every drop he had to give me.

Praising me and worshiping me as if I were the first person to ever give him a blow job?—

No.

My mind froze.

It tripped over the thought.

And I pushed it aside.

I stayed where I was, continuing to swallow his cum until he was done and his hands were urging me to release my hold on him.

When his dick was free, he lowered to his knees in front of me, and with his fingers still in my hair, he speared me with an unexpected kiss.

He had to have tasted himself but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t even care that his dick was going to freeze off if he didn’t pack it away. He just thrust his tongue against mine, rocking into me, thanking me with his mouth for my mouth.

I didn’t even know I needed that ‘thank you’ until it came via Conor’s lips.

When I smiled, he rasped, “I need to taste this kiss.”

“You are,” I mumbled, angling my head, wanting more. Wanting everything.

The crazy thing was that, for the first time in my life, everything didn’t seem that far out of reach.