Submitting to the Enemy: In the Prince's Harem ( (2 page)

"I've never let a man watch me before," I said,
sounding demure.  "I hope you like it."

I slipped the shearling down off my shoulders
and laid it carefully on bed beside me.  Wearing only a short black dress that accentuated my deep cleavage, I turned on the vibrator and watched it hum for a moment as though fascinated.

I imagined Prince Nazari watching me, no doubt exhausted and ready to pass out.  Would my wide-eyed
naiveté get his attention?

I set the vibrator beside me and slipped out of my dress, folding it atop my coat.  My bra and panties came next, and when I stood nude before the Prince's many cameras, I crossed my arms over my chest and blushed.
  I could feel the Prince's eyes on me now, even half a world away.   Those black orbs on the wall gleamed with anticipation as I lowered my arms to reveal my full, round breasts.

I lay back on the bed, my long, dark hair fanned out around my shoulders.  I took the vibrator in hand and turned it on, then parted my thighs slightly and put the toy between my legs.

As I pressed the plastic rod against my sex, its low hum awakened something deep inside me, and I felt my body respond immediately.  My back arched, and I writhed on the bed, massaging myself with the vibrator.  Cal was listening.  I knew he could hear what I was doing.  I hope he knew I was thinking of him, imagining his hard, lean body as I pleasured myself.  We had never been together - the CIA discouraged relationships between its agents - but I'd fantasized about him often.  I used those fantasies now to draw out my desire.

It worked.  As I moved the tip of the vibrator back and forth, hot moisture slickened my inner folds
, and I felt my clit swell and stiffen against the smooth plastic.  I spread myself apart with my free hand and pressed the vibrator directly against my clit.  The intensity of its touch made me cry out suddenly, and I pressed down harder.

In my mind's eye, I imagined Cal Turner atop me on the bed, strong and protective, but sensual.  He kissed me firmly on the mouth, parting my lips with his tongue as he breathed in my essence.  His fingers moved against me in firm, brisk circles that sent waves of sweet pleasure coursing through my body.

I held that image in my head, pushing away my loneliness, ignoring Prince Nazari.  It was Cal I wanted, and soon my juices were flowing.  I turned the vibrator and slid it into my sopping wet pussy, moving it in and out in quick little thrusts, letting its pulsing emanations touch me deep inside.

I lost myself in pleasure, crying out, panting, and squirming on the bed.  I let the vibrator rest inside me while I grabbed the butt plug and the lubricant.  I slathered the conical toy quickly, heedless of the lube that I dribbled on the satin sheets.

While Prince Nazari watched from across the ocean, I spread my legs apart, the vibrator still quivering in my pussy as I raised my hips upward to expose my ass.  I eased the firm black rubber plug into my anus slowly, spreading myself open bit by bit.  I took quick, shallow breaths as I pushed it deeper and deeper, feeling it swell and expand inside of me.  Intense pressure filled my body, and when the plug was all the way in, I took the vibrator in my other hand and began to move it once more.

I wanted to imagine Cal, but it was Fierro Salas who came to mind.  In Colombia, Salas had done things to me that I'd never done with another man, never even imagined I
could
do.  Things I had secretly enjoyed.

With the butt plug firmly inside me, I remembered how Salas had fucked my ass, how I'd touched myself while he did it.  It had been so wrong, so forbidden, and it had given me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life.  Those memories drove me now, and I found myself trapped between two fantasies - Cal's tender affections and Salas's rough anal fucking.  Was I greedy to want both?

My swirling emotions, in combination with the vibrator's movement and the plug's pressure, brought me quickly to the climax I'd intended to fake, but this was real enough to make me scream and thrash on the sheets.  My legs shot out and my toes curled in on themselves as every muscle in my body tensed in a long, wonderful moment of physical release that left me slack and gasping for air.  I lay on the sheets, damp now with my perspiration and wetness, wondering idly who would clean this room for the next girl.

The lights came up slowly, bathing the once-dim room in harsh light.  I covered myself, shy and ashamed - not of my revealing myself to Nazari, but of the memories that had intruded on my fantasy of Cal Turner even while he listened from the floor below.

I dressed quickly and left the room.  Omar stood in the hallway outside, his face unreadable.

"What happens now?" I asked him.  I wanted to be the meek, pliant girl that Prince Nazari demanded, but he was our only hope of getting to the Mountain Wolf.  I had to know.

"The Prince has decided to grant you the honor of joining his harem, Isabel," Omar told me, although he didn't sound pleased.  "You will meet His Majesty's jet at La Guardia's private terminal tomorrow afternoon."

My legs felt shaky as I left Prince Nazari's building.  Emotionally drained, I hailed a cab and took it to the apartment that was ostensibly the home of Isabel McPherson.  I kept a one-bedroom efficiency in DC under my real name, Audrey Archer, but rarely slept there.

I locked the door behind me and drew a hot bath, then stripped out of the fancy clothes I'd worn to Nazari's audition and wrapped myself in a thick terrycloth robe.  The CIA was very thorough with its agents' covers.  The robe was just my size.

The tub had just filled, and the bathroom was pleasantly warm and steamy when someone knocked on the door.  I sighed, wishing I could be off the clock for even a few minutes.  But if I was to fly to Saudi Arabia tomorrow, every minute would be critical.

The knocking came again, more insistently this time.  Rather than go to the door and look through the peephole, I went to the kitchen counter and slipped a pistol from the concealed panel behind the sink.  My laptop sat on the counter, a battered little Mac that a student like Isabel McPherson would own.  If someone went snooping, they would find the usual assortment of music, mundane emails, and Facebook status updates.  But by pressing a special combination of keys and pressing my thumb to the keyboard, I accessed a hidden CIA interface.

I pulled up the video feed from a camera hidden in the hallway to see who was at my door and breathed a sigh of relief - and frustration - when I recognized Cal Turner.

There was a tightness around the former Ranger's blue eyes, and he raked a hand through his light brown hair as he waited for me to answer.  He stood in the hallway as though on full alert, every tight, hard muscle in his body like a coiled spring.

When I
let him in, Cal scanned the room, alert for any threat.  Only when he was sure we were alone did he relax a little.

"What are you doing here, Cal?"

"Debriefing you.  You left Nazari's apartment without a word."  He paused.  "You're really going, aren't you?"

"To Saudi Arabia?  Of course.  We've come too far to give up now."

Cal nodded as though he'd been expecting this.  "I want to get the Wolf as bad as you do, Audrey, but you know you don't have to do this, right?  What you did with Fierro Salas was improvisation, a spur-of-the-moment decision that you had to make in the field.  It paid off, but nobody in the Company would ever ask you to do that again."

"I know, Cal," I said softly.

"No one will think less of you if you back out.  It won't even compromise the mission.  I'm sure lots of girls chicken out on going to Saudi Arabia to join a... a..."  He shook his head.

"I know, Cal," I repeated.  "I wish there was some other way to get close to Nazari, but this is our only lead."

He sighed.  "Then I'm coming with you.  I've requisitioned one of the agency's Gulfstreams; it's faster than Nazari's jet and I can be in Riyadh well before you with an advance team."

I smiled.  "Thanks, Cal.  I don't want to be alone."

"You won't," he said.  "We'll have aerial and audio surveillance on the palace.  We can't mount an assault without an international incident, but we'll find a way to get you out if things go bad..."

I looked up into his steely blue eyes, so full of concern for my safety even as he held back his own opinions.  A lesser man would have begged me to back out, but for all his protectiveness,
he knew when to let go.  That willingness spoke volumes about Cal's confidence in my abilities as a spy.  Once I infiltrated Nazari's harem, I not only had to extract vital information, but I had to find a way to leave without arousing suspicion.

It occurred to me suddenly that it would be a long time before we saw each other again, and this would be the most dangerous mission of my career.  I didn't want to leave things between us how they were, so I took Cal's hand in mine and said, " Cal,
when I said I don't want to be alone, I meant
tonight.
"

He stiffed in surprise, then our eyes met, and I watched his frosty resolve melt in a heartbeat.  Then he scooped me into his strong arms and planted a kiss on me every bit as hot and passionate as anything I'd imagined.  His scent filled my nostrils as our lips met, light aftershave and the clean, healthy man scent I'd grown to love during lengthy stakeouts in confined quarters.

The room swirled around me, as though the world suddenly revolved around Cal Turner, drawn by the passion he'd held in restraint for so long.

Our lips parted for a moment so we could catch our breaths.  His forehead rested against mine, our noses barely touching.

Cal smiled.  "You know, Agency policy dictates that we divulge this encounter before participating in any activities that could compromise our professional relationship."

I laughed softly.  "Fuck them."

He kissed me again, raking his strong fingers down my back to massage my buttocks.  He pulled me close, and I could feel his desire pressed against my belly.  Despite my earlier ordeal, a sudden heat flared between my thighs; I was immediately wet and ready for Cal.

"On second thought, fuck
me,"
I urged him.

Cal didn't need much encouragement.  He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bed that folded out of the efficiency apartment's wall.  He heaved me onto the mattress, and my bathrobe fell open as I landed
with a bounce.

I lay there exposed to Cal for the first time, my tight, nude body ready for his touch.  I smiled invitingly, and Cal began to unbutton his shirt.

My phone rang, the most unwelcome sound in the universe.  As much as I wanted to ignore it, failure to answer a call during a covert operation was a good way to have an assault team land on the roof to attempt a rescue.  I groaned in frustration and rolled off the bed.  "This will only take a minute," I promised, kissing Cal on the cheek.

I picked up and
frowned at the Langley extension on the caller ID.  "Audrey Archer," I said, my real name indicating that it was safe to speak openly.

"Archer, its' Barry Kinlaw," the deep southern voice on the other end said.

I felt myself straighten like a private when a five-star general walks through the barracks.  "Director Kinlaw," I said.  "What can I do for you?"

"Our tech boys analyzed the audio of your visit to Nazari's apartment tonight. 
We discovered some interesting things about that Omar fellow.  I need you to get down here for a full debrief.  Bring a change of clothes; we have a lot to do before your flight tomorrow."

He hung up, and as I turned to Cal, I heard his
phone buzz.  He grimaced and pulled it from his pocket, and his frown only deepened as he listened to the voice on the other end.  When he hung up, his face told me all I needed to know.

"We'd better go," I said, tightening the belt of my robe around my waist.

Cal's mouth tightened as he nodded in agreement.  His face looked as if it had been chiseled from stone.  He buttoned his shirt back up and waited while I got dressed.  We left in separate cars, each alone with our thoughts and our regret that Kinlaw hadn't called an hour later.

Despite the late hour, the CIA's New York headquarters was abuzz when we arrived.  It turned out that "Omar" was a known terrorist wanted in connection with several killings in Yemen and Syria.  We joined several other agents in a conference room.  Barry Kinlaw's image floated on a video monitor at one end of the room.  When we entered, he was overseeing preparations to send in a team and abduct Omar.

"Excuse me?" I said.  "You can't be serious."

Every eye in the room turned to me, most of them filled with skepticism.  I didn't care.  I was still full of adrenaline and flush with desire from my truncated encounter with Cal. 

   "If we take Omar captive," I reasoned, "Prince Nazari will wonder how he was compromised.  He'll cut ties with everything Omar has been doing, and our hunt for the Mountain Wolf will be over."

I looked at the video monitor and pled my case to the Director.  "You don't cut your line and let a shark get away because you're satisfied with a tuna.  If Omar feels safe enough to visit the United States in person, he'll come back again.  We can observe him and take him once this operation concludes."