Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) (16 page)

Dr. Brinkley

Downloading the contents of Miss Fairchild’s laptop on a memory stick was a good decision. As a psychiatrist, I’m always intrigued by the inner workings of my patients. My interest has a tendency to bleed over into my personal life. I want to know what people think and why. It helps me stay one step ahead of, well, most everyone.

This is the first time I’ve felt quite this cornered by a woman, and the fact she comes with the extra baggage of that oversized boyfriend of hers is merely a blip in my plans of finding out what she’s up to.

She has no idea how far I’ll go to obtain what I want. My own father wasn’t exempt from my cruelty. He needed to be taught a lesson. Really, I had no choice. I had to bring him to the brink of death before he’d leave me alone. I had to make him believe I was killing him, before he killed me. It had been so easy to do. I just laced his whiskey with a sedative and then wrapped the belt he’d used to beat the shit out of me as a child around his neck until I squeezed his next-to-last breath of life from his sorry ass body. I released the belt just in time for him to breathe in the life-giving air his lungs needed.

The experience changed him and it changed the balance of power between us forever, with me the victor. He was scared of me after that, and rightfully so. And, in a magnificent twist that I hadn’t anticipated, he found himself in the bizarre position of being grateful to me. Really, when you think about it, he owed his life to me from that moment on. And I made sure he never forgot it. He never laid his vile hands on me after that. He said I was crazy, and maybe I am. What other explanation is there for the fucked up attachment I’ve formed with a serial killer? Most men would run from Georgia, no matter how beautiful she is. Not me, though; I can't stay away.

I was only seventeen when I threatened to kill him and it was the first time I experienced the ultimate control of holding someone’s life in my hands. There is no greater rush than to plot a person’s demise without their knowledge; all the while, smiling in their face and conversing with them as if they’re a friend or, in some cases, a colleague. Designer suits are my armor; my fancy diploma serves as a symbol of prestige. Behind it all, I reign supreme, a man the world would never suspect has all the makings of a cold blooded killer.

Whether I like it or not, Georgia sees the killer in me, and, in her own twisted way…she accepts me. She sees the man who came so close to snuffing out the life of his own father. She has latched on to that vile thing in me that leads me so close to the line between life and death, and she has no intention of ever releasing me. In turn, I am bound to her because of her unspoken promise to keep my secret safe from prying eyes. She revels in the secrets of my demented soul. As long as she is the only one privy to them, I’m safe and so is she. Anyone else... well, I really can’t say.

Windy

“What do you mean you’re not ticklish?” I run my fingers over the muscled ripples of his mid-section and dig my fingertips into his ribs, determined to get a laugh out of him. I look down in disbelief from where I’m straddling Thorn’s taut abs, and give him my best sex kitten pout as I rest my hands on my hips. “You really aren’t ticklish. Oh, my God, I can’t believe it. I’ve never known a man who isn’t ticklish.”

At that, he grabs my wrists, holding them and glaring at me with an intensity that can only mean one thing: he’s jealous.

“You’re so possessive,” I murmur softly as I roll my hips over his groin in a slow, easy rhythm.

“Yes, I am, and you would do well to remember that if you don’t want to see someone get hurt.”

He pulls me down, planting a kiss on my forehead. There are so many unspoken emotions in that one small kiss. There is protectiveness, gratitude, and something else that I haven’t quite figured out yet. But I’m pretty sure I like it. A lot.

I’ve never felt so accepted, so treasured. I don’t need a man to take care of me, but Thorn does it in a way that makes it easy for me to accept and not feel marginalized by it.

He cups my breasts in his big hands as I arch into his touch. “My woman has such gorgeous tits,” he says softly, then pauses. “I remember…” as his voice trails off, he frowns.

“What do you remember?” I ask, curious to know what has pulled him from his playful mood of a moment ago.

“I just…” he sighs and rubs his hands over his face before letting his arms drop back to the pillow behind his head. He just stares up at me, contemplating my features without saying a word. So I wait, knowing he’ll tell me when he’s ready. “Well, hell,” he mutters as his hand slides under my pink camisole and softly caresses my breasts, rubbing them, cupping their fullness, his hand roaming from one to the other as if he has all the time in the world. It feels heavenly and I never want him to stop.

“I just remember that last time I saw you, all those years ago,” he mutters, rubbing a nipple with his thumb, the corner of his mouth tilting up as he watches the nipple harden. I rock my hips and he rests his other hand at my waist to still me. He’s ready to talk. “I hadn’t seen you for months and thought I’d be saying goodbye to a little girl. But there you were, coming out of the kitchen holding a plate of cookies, and I couldn’t look at the damn things without getting an eyeful of perky tits bouncing as you ran up to me. Brand new curves that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen you. It freaked me the fuck out, I tell you. You took me by surprise that day. God, I felt like a perv. That’s when I knew I’d need to stay away. You were growing up. And you needed to do it without me.”

He grips the hem of my top and pulls it over my head. I’m not wearing a bra and he immediately focuses on my breasts, kneading them and tweaking a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Shit, you were fourteen, just a baby. But hindsight’s a bitch because I can look back now and admit that part of what made me turn tail and run out that door was the fact that, even though I knew you weren’t for me – on some level I didn’t like the idea of anyone touching these…gorgeous…tits.”

He’s still stroking my breasts, but his leisurely touch has turned heated now. The combination of sensations and the words he’s saying have me drenched and panting, craving him so much I can’t think straight. He studies my response to his touch, gauging my pleasure to see if I prefer a gentle caress or a firm pinch; a soft lick or a nip of his teeth. So he tries it all…and I like it all. He explores my body like a man possessed. I feel like I’m the only woman in the world when I have his attention like this. I’m slowly starting to accept that I have his undivided attention no matter what kind of crazy is going on around us.

I wiggle out of my boy shorts and unbutton his jeans. He lifts his hips so I can pull them off, along with his boxer briefs. “Mmmmm…” I purr when his cock springs free as if it wants some attention. I straddle him, running the head of his cock up and down my folds, giving special attention to my clit.

“So…what are you going to do with me now?” Thorn asks me as he runs his hands up and down my thighs, pausing only to grab my ass, clenching it roughly. I love it when he gets a little rough when he touches me; it means he’s beyond thinking and instinct is taking over.

“As much as you like my tits, I’m starting to think my ass is your favorite thing,” I say as I lower myself down onto his gorgeous cock, gasping and throwing my head back as I seat myself completely in one lush, smooth stroke. I’m still getting used to his size; girth that my fingers can’t quite wrap around, and length that takes me to my absolute limits when he goes deep. I take a moment to enjoy the view of him sprawled out beneath me. He takes my hands in his, entwining our fingers, letting me brace myself that way as we begin to move together. He fills me so completely that I cry out from the delicious bite of pain that my body has begun to crave. His eyes are locked on mine in the relentless, heated eye contact that I know he needs from me.

I feel my lower abdomen clench as my body reaches for another orgasm. His hands grip my breasts almost brutally now, kneading my flesh and stroking my nipples until they are hard points that he takes into his mouth. He groans his approval as my hips roll into his and I dig my fingernails into his shoulders, searching for some sort of stability. “Oh, God, Thorn…so good…so good,” I wail as my body shudders through the orgasm and he follows me over, his cock pulsing his release deep inside me as he climaxes with my name on his lips.

My body falls onto his chest, my hair in tangled disarray across his chest as we try and fail to catch our breath. Thorn’s hands tremble as he gently strokes my hair, lulling me into a peaceful reprieve from all the stress the world gives. Once again in the arms of the man who has always been my hero…I feel so safe. As I draw lazy circles over his heart with my fingertip, he suddenly reaches for my hand, bringing it to his lips as his eyes glint playfully up at me. I rest my chin on his chest and giggle. “You
are
ticklish,” I whisper.

He rolls over until he’s lying on top of me. Resting his weight on his elbows, he clasps my hands and slides them toward the headboard. With his lips resting lightly over mine, he murmurs, “I’ll never tell.”

Windy

I pull into the parking lot, frantic because I hate to be late. Thorn and I can’t keep our hands off one another and he’s the reason for my tardiness this morning. Sometimes I wonder if he’s trying to get me fired. Though I’m sure he would be thrilled if I could work by his side rather than at the hospital, I doubt he would go that far.

I grab my bags and rush toward the elevator, waving at the nurse on duty as I make my way past the reception desk. The elevator doors almost succeed in closing when a hand reaches between them, stopping them.

My breath hitches when I look up to see the man Johnnie and I spoke to the other day at that garage. What is he doing here? As soon as the door closes, he approaches me in a threatening manner, grabbing me by the arm hard enough to hurt.

“Who do you work for and what the fuck are you doing coming by my job asking questions?”

I attempt to push him away and though he isn’t a large man his body doesn’t give.

“I asked you a question, bitch!”

I don’t hear the doors open but I damn sure see my boss as he reaches in and grabs my assailant, throwing him into the wall so hard that he slides down falling unconscious on the floor. Dr. Brinkley quickly grabs my arm and I wince as he pulls me away from the elevator. With his arm wrapped firmly around my shoulder, he pulls me into his side as he calls security. He instructs them to escort the man from the building, or throw him out, whatever’s necessary to get the job done. Then he escorts me to our office, keeping his arm around me the whole way. He seems unconcerned with what others might think, and I’m too shaken up to care.

He waits until I’m seated at my desk and the door is shut. His eyes plead with me as he speaks. “That boyfriend of yours is putting you in danger; just being around him is putting your life in jeopardy, can’t you see that? You don’t need him.”

It’s like this guy is Jekyll and Hyde. The look on his face in the elevator and the violence he exhibited when he subdued that guy were absolutely lethal. It was totally opposite of the suited professional standing in front of me, earnestly pleading with me to get away from Thorn.

“You don’t understand,” I say softly as I rub my arm where my attacker manhandled me. “He’s good to me.”

He stares at me for a long moment and I swear he doesn’t even blink. “Well, be that as it may, I’ll be here if and when you ever need help.”

His words don’t put my mind at ease after what I just went through. They do, however, make me wonder just how far he’ll go to get rid of Thorn. This isn’t about him having sexual feelings for me. He seems to truly believe that Thorn is putting my life in danger.