Endgame (12 page)

Jake whipped out his phone and started going through the contact list.

“Don’t call him,” she warned in Russian again.

“Give me one good reason not to.” He hit a button and then poised his thumb to hit call.

“Aaron,” she said in English. “What was the main reason, besides your sexual gains, that I wanted to punish you?”

“So I learn to listen and I don’t get you and Jake killed,” he intoned, still sounding quite pleased. “But I’m all for the sexual gains.”

She was going to strangle him when Jake left. No more blowjobs. Ever.

She switched back to Russian. “There.”

“He doesn’t need—”

“He would rather die than behave. If there’s trouble, is that what you want? His blood on your hands? How would your mum feel about that?” She’d pay for playing the mum card, but she didn’t care.

“Chase will have a holy, bloody cow.”

“You should have put me on a plane last night instead of handing over your brother like he was a gift, but you didn’t, so suck it up.”

Jake sighed. “I just wanted you to experience a little love, Char. That’s all.”

“Love? Christ on a motorbike. I don’t need love. I don’t need to be kissed, cuddled, or fucked. I don’t need you playing matchmaker with your brother’s heart.”

“Char—”

She held up a hand. “This is what I do need. I need him to behave and follow directions, and if an occasional blowjob achieves this, then so be it. You’ve wanted me to go sexual on the job. Well, here it is.”

Jake’s face changed with myriad emotions as he opened his mouth.

She raised a finger in warning. “Don’t. How many blowjobs have you gotten after you put Tia in this position? Or any woman for that matter?”

He shut his mouth and pocketed his phone.

“Exactly. And if I would have given in to having sex with you, you would have gotten them from me way back when.” She switched to English again. “Aaron, you may rise and ask if there’s anything Jake desires.”

Jake stormed off toward the back bedroom, slamming a door at his end of the house.

Aaron rose and stared down at her with the naughtiest grin, one that told her he knew exactly what he was doing and he had achieved his goal. Punk snot. “I take it you won, Ma’am.”

“By default. If you can call that winning.” She stabbed his chest with her finger. “And you will pay for your insolence.”

He arched a brow and the corner of his mouth quirked as he tried to fake innocence but failed miserably. “I should put away the rosary beads?”

She nodded. “And hopes of another blowjob.”

He frowned. “You said—”

Ha, punk boy.
“This wasn’t a trade. I am not a whore, putting out for your excellent behavior instead of a C-note.”

“Baby, I don’t think you’re a whore. After that blowjob, I think you are a goddess. My own hot, little
femme fatale
.” His eyes glittered with lusty intent. “And I’m good at negotiations, so let’s make a deal.”

“Negotiations?” Could eyes bulge? She didn’t think so, but that’s what it felt like when she stared at that insolent mouth of his. “I do
not
negotiate. You will behave, blowjob or not. You will behave because if you don’t, there’s nothing to keep me from killing you. And the name is Ma’am. Not baby.”

He arched a brow. “I thought you didn’t want to do the paperwork?”

“As angry as I am right now, I would welcome the tedium.”

“I’m sorry. Ma’am.” He didn’t look it. He looked smug and just fucked. Ready to do it again.

“Are you sorry? He was about to put me on a plane after he called Chase.”

Aaron frowned. “That’s not good.”

“No. It’s not.” Charlotte shifted and tried to quell the need to ride his hard cock until she screamed his name. God, she wanted him, smart mouth and all.

“How will you punish me?” The look of the devil returned, and he grinned. “Sucking your nipples is now on the list of punishments.”

Yes, her eyes were bulging and her stomach knotted, because one part of her wanted to fuck him to shut that mouth up, the other part of her really wanted just to shoot him. Her second gun was hanging in her holster from the back of her chair at the kitchen table. Beckoning. “You do understand that death is final, right?”

“Yep.” He gave her the panty-melting smile. “Fuck me to death, baby. I want to go out happy.”

She blinked and kept her mouth from falling open by jamming her teeth together and grinding them. No, he didn’t get dead.

“Ma’am looks ready to kill me. For real this time.”

“Yes, Ma’am is,” she choked out.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed and stowed the panty-melting smile. “What sorts of punishment are you thinking about?”

“When I was in your position, I’d lose my panties for a week. Or I’d have to serve him dinner naked. Or write humiliating things on my body where people just might see. Like slut on my thigh.”

“But that’s…fucking hot. Except the slut thing.”

“It’s embarrassing as hell in some situations. But the purpose was to remind me who I belonged to and I had better observe his wishes or pay.”

Aaron nodded and looked the most sorry he had since he walked out of his bedroom. “I’m not very good at obedience and submission, am I?”

“No. You’re a failure, and so am I at being in charge. But we’ve been at it for a whopping whole morning, so I think we can cut ourselves some slack.”

He forced a pensive look. “How about if I punish myself? My mom used to do that when we were bad as teens. Make us choose.”

She snorted. “I don’t think that worked out well for you.”

“I guess not.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll go commando.”

“Guys like to go commando. I went without panties in a short skirt.”

“That’s fucking hot.” His pajama bottoms proved he indeed thought it hot. They tented outward in a delicious show of horniness.

What she wouldn’t give to relieve that tent. Damn him for being a punk. “And if you were a good boy, I would dress for you that way if you requested it.”

The wheels turned behind his devilish blue eyes. His mouth opened in amazement, then closed on the dirtiest smile ever created. “You’re going to be my girlfriend out of the house. You said so.”

“So?”

“A girlfriend with no panties is fucking hot. I’d be pretty damned good, all the time, for a commando Amanda.”

Her pussy creamed and throbbed harder. Yes, she wanted that. No, wait. She didn’t. “Aaron, no. You’re topping from the bottom on this one.”

“Huh?”

“I’m in charge; you can’t demand I go sans panties when we’re discussing
your
punishment.”

He cocked his head. “Is that an English thing? Topping from the bottom?”

“You wish.” She tapped a foot, so angry, so turned on she couldn’t see straight because her pussy pulsed like a bass drum. “Fuck it. I’ll punish you later.”

Aaron nodded. “Good. Because we’re going out.”

“What? No.” Jesus, did he like having balls? Because he was two steps from becoming a eunuch.

He raised his brows with surprise. “I want ice cream and they make the best homemade hot fudge down the street. Would Ma’am like to come with?”

It was eleven in the morning. He hadn’t had lunch. So crazy, this man. “You’re not going, and I don’t want ice cream.”

“I didn’t get breakfast. One, you ate the pancakes, two, you put me on my knees and all that really good stuff. So, I want ice cream.” He went to the kitchen and grabbed his keys from the counter like a belligerent teen. “You coming or not.”

Dead. Man. Walking.
“You don’t get the obedience thing, do you? Or what dead means? Are you daft?”

“Don’t call me names.” He jingled the keys with impatience. “I’m hungry. I’m a spoiled punk, and I want ice cream. I’m not sorry for any of it. Now, how are you going to keep me here?”

“I can shoot you. Tie you up and make you sit in a chair all day. I could just knock you out.”

“Go for it. Ma’am.” He walked out of the kitchen like he owned the world.

She gaped. Strong, deadly men feared her. They trembled and counted their lucky stars when they still had one testicle to call theirs after she was done with them. She wasn’t the Dragon Queen for nothing.

Charlotte knew then and there, as she stared at Aaron’s fine ass heading to the door—in pajama pants, no shirt, barefoot—that she was screwed. Absolutely, utterly screwed. Aaron James Anderson was the first man, ever, that she wanted to kill—badly—and couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

“Wait.”

He turned, his hand on the doorknob and arched a brow.

“If you wait one moment, I’ll go. And you can’t go in pajamas and shirtless.”

He snorted. “The hell I can’t. I’m Aaron James.” The panty-melting smile returned. “But I’ll change for you, Ma’am.”

****

They came back from ice cream—the fastest run ever. Charlotte, to Aaron’s dismay and fascination, had eaten a huge sundae with four scoops, three toppings, and whipped cream. Every bite. She made him pay, whispering “punishment” as he counted change from his car because he couldn’t find his wallet. Of course, the teeny bopper server girl had recognized him, wanted an autograph, and took pictures of him counting change.

Aaron had slunk home, embarrassed as hell, and spent the rest of the afternoon analyzing the roles played by Jake and Charlotte. Quickly, he decided they should be married or something and it made him jealous.

They moved like a married couple throughout the house. Sometimes he started sentences, she finished them. They disagreed constantly, about everything. Jake got pissed, usually Charlotte cowed. Then Aaron would jump in and she fought Jake like a wolf with fresh meat. Odd. Weird. Aaron couldn’t help but feel jealous at the depth of their friendship and caring. He wanted that, too.

But it was long enough for Aaron to learn what he needed to do. He needed to be in Jake’s presence in the house, so Charlotte would ease up. Jake wasn’t the least bit happy about Aaron going to his knees.

Aaron also needed to get her out of the house, because the rules were she could be his girlfriend then. She’d been frosty going for ice cream, but he’d been so rattled by the experience that he had forgotten the rules. Girlfriend Charlotte would be a hell of a lot like sexy Charlotte, he bet.

So as Jake got ready to go out late that afternoon, Aaron said, “Let’s go out, too, Ma’am.”

Jake flinched and oozed vehemence at Charlotte. Aaron grinned.

Charlotte turned her brown-contact eyes on him and pinned him like a dart to a board. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m going to the beach, because I need the sunshine and you need the fresh air, Madam Frosty. Would Ma’am like to come with?”

“We’re not doing this again.” He could see her planting her mental feet, digging in for a battle. But she didn’t shoot or maim him earlier when he threatened to walk out, so he was fairly confident she wouldn’t kill him. At least not in front of Jake.

Jake paused at the door, his hand on the knob. “The beach is pretty in winter, Char. Why not go? Take a blanket. Watch the waves.”

“Whose side are you on?” she snapped.

“Both. The beach is nice. Go.” And he left.

Aaron grabbed his keys before Charlotte could snatch them off the counter. “Coming, Ma’am?”

“I have no choice, do I?” She ground her teeth and yanked her purse over her shoulder. “Go get in the car, punk.”

They walked outside to the driveway. Well, he walked. Charlotte stomped. He slid behind the steering wheel of his sweet, antique muscle ride, and she glared through the window on his side. Or maybe she hadn’t stopped glaring.

“You can’t find your wallet.” She gestured for him to get out. “I’m driving.”

“You can drive stick? And deal with a touchy antique? Stella is my main girl.”

She snorted. “Can you die from cyanide poisoning?”

“Only if Ma’am wills it.” He arched a brow and started the car. “You can shoot and drive, right? Because when they come gunning for me, I’ll be unprotected over there on the passenger’s side. Ma’am.”

“Yes, I can shoot and drive. But I doubt you’re in that much danger.”

He tended to agree, but he loved ruffling her pretty red feathers. “Chase sent you to watch me. You can watch me drive and look damned good doing it.”

“I’m beginning to doubt Chase’s sanity.” But she rounded the car and slid into the passenger’s side seat, her purse on her lap.

“No gun?” He eyed her up and down. No room for a gun in black leggings and a tight, bright purple top with a V-neck that pointed straight down to the forbidden fruit. She also had a light jacket tucked under one arm.

“In my purse. Drive.”

He drove and decided now was the time to get moving on his spy camp plea. “So, baby—”

“
Baby
?” She stiffened in her leather seat, and he could just feel the frosty chill.

“I’ve always wanted to call my girlfriend ‘baby’ and since we’re out, you are technically my girlfriend.” She snorted, he grinned. “You didn’t mind when I was at the South Pole.”

“I wasn’t listening. You were far away.” She waved him away with an annoyed hand. “What do you want?”

“I want you to hold spy camp while you’re here.”

“Spy camp?” Her nostrils flared, as if he’d farted or done something else distasteful.

“Yeah. Teach me how to fight, disarm people, shoot like a gunslinger, stuff like that. Cool, spy stuff. I want to ace the next spy movie. I’m living with two spies, for Christ’s sake. I should get something out of you guys eating all my food and showering a zillion times a day. You two are the hungriest, cleanest spies in America.”

“We have an expense account. Jake will give you money.” She glanced out the window in the mirror, then casually over her shoulder. Alert, his Danger Girl. “Have a deal for the sequel film already, do you?”

“Signed and sealed, baby. Filming starts after the first of the year.”

“Spy camp.” She snorted again. Coming from her, it sounded really cute. “I could take you down to the meanest, baddest corner in L.A. and leave you there. You’d learn twice as much, twice as fast.”

“I want
you
to teach me. My own
femme fatale
coach, in bed and out.”

She arched a perfect brow over brown-contact eyes. He liked the violet glare better. “You want sex camp, too? Greedy, aren’t you. Or did your mother deny you the chance to make someone else’s life a living hell for a summer?”