Page 11 of No Words
I bring up the security feeds on the main monitor, forcing myself back into professional mode.
“I’ve expanded our perimeter. Anyone who comes within half a mile, we’ll know.
” I point to the sensors on the map. “But we need evacuation plans. My contact is sending coordinates for a secondary safe house.”
Her eyes grow larger. “Contact? Who are we working with?”
“Former colleagues who understand what we’re facing.”
“More U.S. Marshals?”
I smile without humor. “Not exactly. Let’s just say Killian’s network runs underground.”
“The man you mentioned before.” She connects the dots quickly. “The one who warned you about corruption in the system.”
“Yes.” I don’t elaborate. The less she knows about Killian Blackthorn, the better, for now.
“So what’s our next move?” she asks.
I pull up a digital map. “Tonight, I’ll teach you defensive positions throughout the cabin. Tomorrow, we may need to move.” I look at her directly. “That means you need to be ready for anything.”
A double meaning. Her eyes darken as she holds my gaze, the golden flecks no longer visible.
“I’m ready.”
“We’ll see.” I gesture to the security monitors. “For now, I need you to memorize these camera angles, learn to spot anomalies. Your eyes might catch something the system misses.”
As I guide her through the security plans, standing close behind her, I’m aware of her scent, the heat of her body. The radio incident changes something between us, leaves me feeling charged.
The perimeter alarm explodes through the silence. I shove Molly behind me, weapon drawn before the sound fades. Pure instinct. On the monitor, a deer wanders through the eastern sensor field.
“False alarm,” I say, holstering my gun. But my heartbeat takes longer to settle.
Molly releases a shaky breath, still pressed against my back. “Is it always going to be like this? Jumping at shadows?”
I turn to face her, still too close. “Your fear will keep you alive, but I’ll keep you safe.”
Her eyes search mine. “Promise?”
Instead of answering, I cup her face with one hand, letting my thumb trace her lower lip. “From now on, when you need distraction from the fear, you come to me. Not with your own fingers. Understood?”
Color floods her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” I murmur, the praise coming naturally. “Now, back to these camera angles.”
As night falls, I set up a watch rotation: three hours on, three hours off. The first watch is mine. I take position by the window, monitoring the forest while Molly sleeps.
I hear the shower running, then silence. Minutes later, she emerges wearing another of my t-shirts, hair damp, skin flushed from the hot water. She hesitates in the doorway, caught between retreat and approach.
“You should get some sleep,” I suggest, keeping my eyes on the monitors.
“I’m not tired.” She steps closer, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. “I can take first watch if you want to rest.”
“That’s not how this works,” I say, finally turning to look at her. “I protect you. That’s the arrangement.”
She stands her ground. “And who protects you?”
The question catches me off guard. Few people have ever worried about my safety.
“I take care of myself,” I answer, studying her. “We need to discuss what happened earlier.”
Her cheeks color immediately. “I’d rather not.”
“I didn’t ask what you’d rather do.” My tone leaves no room for argument. “Come here.”
She approaches slowly, stopping just outside my reach. I pat the space beside me on the couch. She sits perched on the edge as if she might bolt.
“What you did earlier,” I begin, voice deliberately neutral, “touching yourself without permission, that was against the rules.”
Her eyes widen. “Rules? We never established any?—”
“We did,” I interrupt. “When I told you in the shower that your body responds to my command now. I made it clear that your pleasure belongs to me.”
Her breathing quickens. “That’s... presumptuous.”
“Is it?” I reach out, tracing one finger along her collarbone. “Tell me you don’t crave what I’m offering, and I’ll stop. We’ll pretend none of it happened.”
She remains silent, pulse visible in her throat.
“That’s what I thought,” I breathe. “Stand up.”
After a beat, she complies. I rise too, towering over her smaller frame.
“Turn around, face the window.” Again, she obeys, her body language a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. “Hands on the glass. Legs apart.”
She places her palms against the cold window, positioning herself as instructed. Outside, darkness has fallen completely. Anyone watching would see her silhouette perfectly framed, but I know we’re alone. The threat is still hours away.
“This is a reminder,” I tell her, moving to stand behind her, close enough that she feels my heat but not touching her. “Your pussy belongs to me now. Not to your own fingers. Not to anyone else. To me.”
I brush her hair aside, exposing her neck. “Do you understand?”
She nods, a barely perceptible movement.
“Say it,” I command. “Tell me who owns your pleasure.”
Her voice comes out breathless. “You do.”
“Good girl.” I reward her with a gentle kiss at the nape of her neck. “And good girls get rewarded. Bad girls...” I let my hand slide down her side, feeling her shiver. “Bad girls get punished.”
I step backwards slightly. “Lift the shirt.”
She hesitates, aware of her exposure in the window.
“No one can see,” I assure her. “Just me. And you want me to see, don’t you?”
Slowly, she raises the hem of the t-shirt, revealing herself inch by inch. She’s wearing nothing underneath, as I suspected.
“Higher,” I instruct. “Hold it up. Don’t let go.”
When the shirt is bunched around her waist, exposing her completely, I run my hands lightly over her body from behind, hardly touching, just enough to raise goosebumps on her skin. I move my mouth to her ear.
“Earlier, you started something without permission.” My hand slides around to her front, fingers tracing her hip bone. “Now I’m going to finish it. But you don’t get to come until I allow it. That’s your punishment.”
Her head falls back against my shoulder, a wordless surrender. I let my fingers drift lower, finding her already wet. The discovery sends a surge of satisfaction through me, a profound sense of possession at how easily she responds to my touch.
“So responsive,” I murmur, circling her entrance without penetrating. “So ready. But not yet.”
I spend long minutes teasing her clit with the lightest touches, bringing her to the edge, then pulling back. Her breathing becomes ragged, her hips pushing back against me, seeking more contact. I maintain perfect control, despite my rigid cock pressing hard against her.
“Please,” she whispers, the word a broken plea.
“Please what?” I prompt, fingers stilling.
“Please let me come.”
“Not until you promise to obey the rules.” My free hand comes up to circle her throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder of my control. “Promise you’ll come to me next time, not take matters into your own hands.”
“I promise,” she gasps as my fingers resume their skilled torture.
“Who do you belong to right now?” I demand, increasing the pressure where she needs it most.
“You,” she moans. “Just you.”
“That’s right.” I position myself more firmly behind her, letting her feel exactly what she’s doing to me. “Now you can come. Show me.”
Her release is spectacular, body arching, hands pressing against the glass, a cry she tries to muffle escaping her throat. I hold her through it, my hand working her through each wave until she’s trembling with oversensitivity.
When she finally stills, I turn her to face me, lifting her chin to meet my eyes.
“That’s what happens when you let me take control,” I warn. “Next time will be even better.”
Her eyes are glazed, but there’s something else there too, a hunger that matches my own. “What about you?” she asks, gaze dropping to the obvious bulge in my pants.
I shake my head. “This wasn’t about me. This was about establishing boundaries.
” I step back, putting distance between us again.
“And those boundaries can change anytime you need them to. This only works if we both want it, and you can withdraw consent whenever you need to. Now, get some sleep. I’ll wake you for your watch in three hours. ”
She looks like she wants to argue, but exhaustion and the aftermath of intense pleasure are catching up with her. She nods, adjusting her shirt back into place.
“Cole,” she says at the bedroom door, voice soft but steady. “What happens when this is over? When Borsellini is no longer a threat?”
I don’t pretend to misunderstand. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we focus on keeping you alive.”
She accepts this non-answer with a slight nod and disappears into the bedroom. I return to my place near the window, scanning the darkness beyond.
I check the feeds one last time, my body still humming with unresolved tension. Outside, the darkness hides our enemies. Inside, I’ve started something that could destroy us both.