Assassin Deception (19 page)

The first time he had ever coaxed her into oral sex she had been apprehensive. His penis was so thick and long she was certain she would choke. Damien had been very cautious of her fears. He had moved over her with caution, telling her he would be careful.

He had been; he had been more than satisfied with her innocent attempts to please him. She had done what he asked out of love. Now that he was inside her she reveled in his taste, no longer afraid but willing, drawing him deeper, knowing his thoughts were on her alone and the sensations she caused were so satisfying and pleasing. Damien was always certain to keep his weight from pinning her. She knew he didn’t want her to feel trapped, but eager. She was.

While he rode her mouth slowly, Damien removed his shirt. He unstrapped his holster, setting it aside, though it remained within his reach. Chloe closed her eyes while he handled the weapon. Damien had been right when he expressed her concern over the gun. His hands, now empty, stroked her cheeks. His thumbs ran over her eyelids.

“Chloe, look at me,” Damien said.

When Chloe’s eyes opened she knew he could see her fear, see her struggling to concentrate on him, but from this position she was unable to. Damien removed himself from her mouth and slid down the slender length of her shivering body. Once more he captured her wrists high above her head.

“Who is more powerful than me?” he demanded.

“No one,” she responded dutifully in a tiny voice.

“I will keep you safe.”

“Love me, Damien.”

Damien dipped his head to claim her mouth. He began the dance anew. He trailed his lips down her throat to one high nipple. He drew her into his mouth with expertise. When the nipple hardened, he stroked his thumbnail across the tip, watching her shiver with renewed excitement.

He slipped his other hand lower, teasing. His fingers reached their ultimate goal and parted her, roaming first the outside of her soft warm folds, then dipped within. Chloe shivered at his tentative dip and withdrawal. Two large fingers coaxed their way deeper; filling her while he mouthed a gentle trail down her taut belly.

Chloe thought she would expire when finally, finally his tongue flicked to her bud, then suckled. She moaned, calling to him, desperate for more. Damien eagerly obliged.

He drew her into his mouth, demanding more of her heat while she writhed beneath him, crying her need. She begged him to rise and enter her, pulling at him. Instead, he used both tongue and fingers.

He told her this time he wanted to glide within her, as though he were a wave of satin riding hot moist air into a liquid sky. He was ignoring her voiced verbal pleas and concentrated on her body’s whispered words, words he had told her were meant for him alone. Her body arched suddenly, unexpectedly. Only when she felt her heated liquid meet his tongue, did he rise over her.

Chloe cried out his name. His engorged length slipped into her. She could feel her tightness pleasantly slick with a wetness that welcomed him. She lapped and laved at his chest, tasting him, driving him to flip her onto himself. He gripped her waist, almost spanning it.

Chloe’s head fell back as she allowed him the control he sought. He lifted her easily, pumping himself wildly into her. Their breath was expelled together as one, sharply with each thrust.

Chloe could take no more; he was so incredibly powerful, demanding, while she was still recovering. She battled her exhaustion and lost, slumping forward onto him, whimpering for him to hurry as her bones turned to jelly.

Once more she felt herself turned abruptly in his steel grip and Damien was on top of her; he pinned her hands high above her head as he led the dance for them both. She gave him the lead. The clothing beneath them became saturated with their sweat.

Again Chloe cried out. Her body arched, shuddered, and went still. Damien howled in victory. They were one. His arms closed around her possessively, both refusing to part with the feeling. He nuzzled her cheek. He remained buried deeply within her, moving slowly. His breath felt hot against the side of her flushed face. She could hear his body questioning, coaxing.

Chloe knew what he sought, and though tired, she was also far from finished. Her eyes remained closed when she reached for him again.

By the time he was finished, Damien had claimed every inch of her heated body, tasted everywhere. There was no doubt in Chloe’s mind, there was no one more powerful than he, and no one loved her like he did.

Chapter Twelve

Smiling, Chloe opened another large chest, though this one had proved difficult. At first she thought perhaps it might be locked, but with age and a hard shove the latch snapped. She had replaced her ripped shirt with an ancient one found in another trunk.

When Damien had left her she informed him she wasn’t finished reminiscing. The warm feeling of their lovemaking had her feeling nostalgic, and she wanted to see if she could locate Samantha’s wedding dress. That she had made her eager with excitement.

The beautiful, long flowing gown with tiny pearl buttons and a gorgeous veil had been perfectly preserved. Chloe couldn’t wait to try it on, but felt she should check with James first.

She doubted there would be a problem; she was already in possession of the jewelry Samantha had worn at her wedding. Chloe dipped deeper into the chest and, with delight, she removed an old photo album.

Wanting a good look at the dress, she searched for a picture of Samantha. She wasn’t disappointed. The old-fashioned dress was beyond stunning, so had been Samantha. Chloe was going to look beyond delicious.

Chloe flipped through the pages, her smile deepening. James had looked so handsome in his tuxedo; his resemblance to Damien and Dirk at that age was uncanny. His short blond hair had been meticulous, his clear blue eyes shone like sapphires.

If Chloe closed her eyes she could almost smell how wonderful his cologne had been. No wonder Samantha had been smitten; the two had made the perfect couple.

After drinking in the both of them, Chloe looked at the man standing beside James. His best man caused her to tremble. His dark looks were captivating, intimidating. He had the broadest chest Chloe had ever seen. As impossible as it seemed, he almost made James look small. His dark, soulless eyes reminded her strangely of Wolf and his powerful build; his looks seemed so familiar.

If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn the two men were somehow related. Chloe knew that was impossible. Damien had told her years ago Wolf had only met his family when he was in his early twenties. Still, she couldn’t help but gaze, fascinated, at the very handsome, though obviously hardened man.

Thumbing through the large book, Chloe came to a picture of the wedding party that was intriguing. Chloe could remember vaguely some of the men who had worked for James; most had retired or ventured away on their own. She wondered where Samantha’s family was.

Looking closer, studying the book, Chloe’s heart leaped. One of the women poised near Samantha was familiar. Chloe pulled the picture closer to her eyes in the dimness of the attic. She stared hard. The resemblance was amazing. If Chloe hadn’t known better she would have sworn she was looking at a picture of her granny.

“But that’s impossible,” Chloe whispered aloud.

Granny hadn’t known James or Samantha until they had met her mother. Chloe’s granny had come with her mother and father when they had moved into the little house owned by James. Still, Chloe knew the picture in some way.

Once, very long ago, her granny had shown her a picture of herself as a young woman. Rising swiftly, Chloe went closer to the window. She stared intently at the woman’s face in the bright sunlight.

The two women were one and the same, there was no doubt in her mind. The pearl earrings were a dead giveaway. Her granny had never gone anywhere without them; James had thought it fitting she be buried with them. Chloe had been told they had been given to her as a wedding gift by her late husband, a husband she had loved beyond belief.

Chloe looked at more pictures, setting aside the wedding party shot. Soon enough she found one more picture. Her confusion intensified. Her granny stood holding a young boy of no more than three or four. Another young boy stood directly in front of her.

To Chloe’s great surprise the handsome, huge, best man stood with his arm wrapped around her granny. His smiling face transformed his strict exterior to a likeable, approachable human being. His eyes no longer appeared soulless, but familiar. He was happy, and very proud.

Who was the man? Who were the boys? Why was Chloe’s grandmother included in the picture? It didn’t make any sense to her. She could feel her heart pounding, racing. She clutched the pictures in her hand. Someone had some questions to answer. She had made the mistake of waiting too long the last time; this time she would demand immediate answers. With purpose, she strode quickly from the attic.

* * * *

Chloe made her way into James’ study. He sat conversing with Dirk. Chloe entered and then closed the door behind her. Without saying a word she approached James and put the two photos before him. James picked them up and sighed.

“Who’s that man with my granny?” Chloe finally demanded when James remained silent.

“Chloe, why don’t you sit, sweetheart? Dirk, will you make her a drink?” James suggested. He had assumed that particular chest had remained locked over the years. He had known Chloe and Damien ventured up there from time to time. Since their fascination with dress-up had long ceased he had thought no more of it. He had been loath to destroy the pictures for his own reasons.

Dirk strolled to the small bar in the room, and soon enough Chloe had a gin and tonic clasped in her tense grip. James rose from his seat and poised himself before Chloe on his desk.

“The man in the picture, my best man and my very best and dearest friend, was your grandfather,” James began, eyeing her steadily.

“But my grandpa died soon after my mom was born. Granny raised her alone, she had no other family,” Chloe said, confused.

“No, sweetheart, he died after you were born, with your uncle,” James replied.

“I don’t understand,” Chloe whispered.

“Chloe, the man in the picture was married to your grandmother. The boy she is holding, their son, was your father.”

“No.” Chloe looked up at him, eyes wide. “Granny had my mother, only my mother. She didn’t have any boys. How could they be married if they were brother and sister?”

“Chloe, your parents were related only through their marriage to one another. I understand this is complicated for you to hear. I loved the man in the picture like a brother, his boys were like my own, I loved them both,” James said sadly.

“But you killed my father,” Chloe said, aghast. “You had always said you only met him when he came to live at the cottage.”

“Chloe, if your grandfather had lived, your life would have been much the same as it was. You would have grown up here, been sent to private schools, cared for and protected from everyone. Except your father would never have harmed you or your mother. If he had, there is no doubt in my mind Drake, your grandfather, would have killed him himself.”

“How did my grandpa die?” Chloe asked.

“Both he and your uncle were killed by a man from another organization. I tried to find out who was responsible, but to this day I have been unable to,” James replied somewhat evasively.

“James, why would Granny claim to be my mother’s mother? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“When your mother became pregnant, your grandfather and I moved your family into the little cottage to be close to us. There had been threats circulating someone was after your grandfather and uncle. I had promised your grandfather if anything ever happened to him I would care for his family as my own.