Tiger by the Tail (17 page)

The marble bathroom off the bedroom was well appointed, with a tub and separate shower stall. As Mike approached the bathroom, he heard water splashing. A short, crumpled dress lay on the floor, next to a pair of well-worn slippers by to the door.

What the hell?
Keeping his hands at his sides, but ready to strike, he eased up to the door, then shoved it open and burst inside. He got a view of a huge pile of bath suds and a startled yelp as a small figure almost disappeared underneath the mountain of bubbles.

“What the fuck?” He stepped over to the side of the tub, knelt, and plunged his arm into the bath, encountering hot water and slick, warm flesh. Grabbing what he thought was an arm, he hauled up a dripping, soapy, buck-naked Soon Yi, who coughed and blew out a puff of soap as she cleared her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

“I was in the junior suite next door.” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “It was easy to pick the lock. When I saw this tub, I knew where I was spending my time until you returned.” Still dripping water, she stared at him. “Besides, I thought that maybe . . . you and I could continue where we had left off last night.”

“Continue?” Mike frowned and made a mental note to have the outside guards sweep prisoners’ rooms every fifteen minutes in the future. He was just lucky he hadn’t had any sort of weapon in the room, otherwise this might have turned out much worse.

He crossed his arms. “I was pretty much done last night, but go on.” Seeing her athletic body clean and dripping wet, however, was making him want to do things to her all over again.

“Well, Yeung Tony probably didn’t tell you
everything
we did together.” She grabbed the washcloth off the rack and slowly began wiping the bubbles from her body, giving him a tantalizing peep show as more skin was uncovered.

Mike narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re a sub?”

Soon shook her head, making drops of water splash onto him. “Not quite. But sometimes I do enjoy being overpowered and taken. Tony was good—but judging by last night, I think you’re much better. In fact, I was wishing you hadn’t left so suddenly, not when things were just getting really interesting. But you’re here now, so we can pick up where we left off. However, I am going to make you work for it—”

She had been wiping down the valley between her breasts, when suddenly she whipped the wet cloth at Mike’s face. He ducked it, but upon coming at her found she had grabbed a towel and thrown that as well. Batting it aside, he reached for her arm, but his fingers slid off her slick skin as she smeared a handful of suds into his face.

Mike stepped back, trying to block the doorway while clearing his eyes. The bathroom wasn’t large, but Soon was very nimble, and when he felt a touch on his left arm, he reached in that direction, only to come up with empty air. Hearing a mocking laugh behind him, Mike wiped the rest of the soap off and emerged from the bathroom to find a large shape sailing through the air straight at his head!

Ducking, he heard porcelain shatter, and turned to see one of the lamps that had been beside the bed lying in pieces on the floor. He looked up to see Soon lifting the other one off the nightstand on the far side of the bed. She raised it above her head, glaring at him.

“Put it down
now
!” he ordered.

“You will to have to make me—” she heaved it at him, but Mike was ready this time and caught it. Dropping it on the bed, he stepped onto the mattress and charged after her as she ran into the parlor.

He had barely cleared the doorway when he found the desk chair lying in his path. Leaping over it, Mike felt his head brush the ceiling. He came down on the other side and took in the room at a glance. Soon had darted around the loveseat and stood staring at him, naked and magnificent.

Mike was equal parts enraged and engorged. He’d never had a woman who enjoyed foreplay like this—subs were his normal sexual taste, but this was just as big a turn-on as anything he’d ever experienced. He took one step forward. “There’s nowhere to run. You will not make it out that door.”

“Then I will just have to fight you,” she said, raking her nails across the back of the couch. Her ferocity excited him even more. For the first time, he wasn’t in total control of a scenario, and although it felt strange, this game of cat-and-mouse was also sublimely pleasurable.

Mike took another step forward, stalking her, trying to freeze her in place with the most predatory glare he could muster. “You are going to pay for resisting me.”

“Only if you catch me first, and that will not be easy.” She tensed at his next step as Mike weighed his options.
Around, over, or through?
Around the couch would let her go the other way to escape. Over, and she might be able to duck away from him and reach the other side. That left—

Mike’s next step took him right in front of the furniture. Soon Yi started to move, but before she could take a step, Mike picked up the couch and flipped it onto its back. Now Soon Yi was the one caught by surprise. She had started to dart left, but was forced to dodge the moving couch. With her cover gone, there was no place left to hide. Instead of fleeing, now she lunged at Mike, both hands going for his face.

This straight-on attack had no chance of working. Mike grabbed both her wrists and pivoted, using her momentum to fling her around him. Staying with her, he pushed her into the wall, then trapped her with his own so she couldn’t get free. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard.

Even with her wrists pinned and her body trapped, Soon Yi still tried to fight back, craning her neck forward and snapping at Mike’s nose. He reared back and glared at her.

“That is not going to fly.” He dragged her back into the bedroom and, still holding both her arms, stripped a pillow of its case and gagged her. “That should take care of your mouth until I want it open again.”

He marched her back into the parlor and over to the desk, which he cleared of its phone, lamp, leather blotter, pad of paper, and pen set with a sweep of his arm. Bending her over the lacquered surface, he kept her hands above her head while forcing his knee between her legs. She tried to head butt him, but he just took the blow on the crown of his head, then backhanded her so hard that his knuckles tingled. Soon’s eyes rolled back as her head lolled on her shoulders.

He forced her thighs apart and stuck two fingers deep inside her. She was incredibly wet, whether from the bath or the fighting, Mike didn’t know and didn’t care. She shuddered at the impaling, and he thrust them even deeper, rubbing the middle of his fingers against her clit as he withdrew them, then pushing harder inside to reach her cervix. A moan escaped her gritted teeth as he thrust in and out faster.

That gave him enough time to get the condom out and sheath himself. He didn’t waste time on any preliminaries, just thrust his way inside. All he was knew was that by his third thrust she had wrapped her legs around his waist and ragged little gasps of pleasure were coming from her gagged mouth. His mouth was busy as well, sucking hard and biting at her nipples and breasts.

Mike worked her over for a solid ten minutes, until she was trembling all over. But he still didn’t let her hands go, nor did he untie the pillowcase. Instead, he simply pounded the fuck out of her for a long time. After a while, he turned her around, bent her over the desk again, and took her from behind, which excited him even more as she grasped the edge and screamed into the gag.

The pounding she had taken had left her pussy swollen and dripping, and he gripped her tight little ass with both hands while he fucked the resistance right out of her. She cried out as he varied his penetration, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, her sounds just turning him on even more.

Mike felt like he could fuck her forever. He didn’t even need to slow his thrusts or think about anything else to slow his own climax. He had reached that state of almost but not quite light-headed euphoria where he could go literally for hours without losing his erection. It was almost like he was outside himself, watching his body fuck the Chinese whore, and yet he could feel every exquisite sensation . . . and it was god-damned incredible.

After a few minutes of that, he grabbed the armless desk chair and set it upright, then sat down in it. Pulling her off the desk, he sat her down on his dick and began thrusting again, making her rise up off him with every pump of his hips. Soon grabbed his shoulders hard enough to draw blood and threw her head back, whipping her hair back and forth. After a minute, she reached for the gag, but he slapped her hand away.

“No! Only I do it!” he ordered.

She nodded, then got off him and turned around so he was penetrating her from a different angle. Mike knew this position well—he could easily get her off a half-dozen times, since the head of his cock was hitting some of the most sensitive spots in the vagina.

Grabbing her by her short hair, he pulled her head back. She sucked in a breath, and arched her back, trying to relieve the pressure on her spine. Mike wasn’t having any of it, however, and kept the pressure on while he began pumping again. Before long, she was screaming, and he was howling right along with her.

But he only allowed her three shaking, screaming orgasms before he let himself come, then pulled out. After all, he always wanted to leave them wanting more . . . .

Breathing hard, he stood over her as she tried to rise from the floor. “You’ve got thirty minutes to get yourself cleaned up and presentable. Try anything against me in that time, and you will regret it.”

She began crawling to the bathroom while Mike picked up the desk phone, which was off the hook and beeping incessantly. With his pants still down around his ankles, he picked it up and called the front desk. “Yes, this is Mr. Jenkins in Suite 1802. I’m afraid there’s been some damage to the furniture in here . . .”

* * *

Jace let out a low whistle as he escorted Katya into the marbled lower lobby of the Ritz-Carlton, on the ninth floor of the 484-meter-tall International Commerce Building, the tallest skyscraper in the city. “This Than guy sure knows how to live.”

He’d packed smart casual, and was wearing a black linen button-down shirt under a wrinkle-free tan sport coat, chinos, and leather slip-ons. He wore a borrowed dark pair of Tom Ford sunglasses, and had smoothed his black hair back into a small ponytail, looking like a man striving hard to be at least one step above Eurotrash.

On his arm, Katya drew admiring stares with every step she took. Her stunning body was sheathed in an off the shoulder, wine-red cocktail dress that ended well above the knee, with matching high heels. Her blond hair was upswept in a French twist, and a pair of oversize Donna Karan sunglasses in a matching red frame completed the effect of a sophisticated French or German woman out with a man she might have just picked up and brought back to her hotel.

“It all seems designed to distract and confuse people,” she replied.

“More like be astounded at how the one percent get to live,” he replied with a grin.

“Don’t let the trappings fool either of you—remember that we are here on business,” Mike said in his ear.

“Yes, sir.” Jace let his smile fade as he casually checked their six one last time.

Typically, the Kildar was all business. Walking a few yards ahead of Jace and Katya, he kept Soon Yi close to him with a firm hand on her elbow. The Chinese hooker was dressed in a light-blue linen summer dress with sandals on her tiny feet, and looked unusually animated and glowing.

Jace let the Kildar reach the elevators first. Katya and he would follow a minute later, giving the impression that they were two separate parties going to the same restaurant.

Mike and Soon were met by a lovely young female staff member. “Tin Lung Heen restaurant, please,” he said.

“Of course, sir.” The woman led Mike and Yi into the elevator and pressed the button for the 102nd floor.

Jace faced away from anyone who might have been watching and subvocalized, “Team River to Mal, do you copy?”

“Loud and clear, River One.”

“Team River to Firefly, do you copy?”

“Read you loud and clear.” He heard Vanner’s voice in his ear. “Got your date on line as well. Everything’s working perfectly.”

The blond woman exhaled. “I bet Vanner loves to watch—everything.”

Jace let a bit of frost edge into his voice. “I heard he almost got killed during the Florida op. Doesn’t sound like a desk-sitter to me.”

“Maybe that was his problem, too much watching and not enough doing.”

Jace dropped the chill several more degrees. “Fortunately, that won’t be an issue here.”

Katya eyed him coolly. “Your loyalty is—admirable.”

“No, it is well-earned, on
both
sides. No one I’d rather have covering my back in the shit. Come on, we’re up.”

Another lobby attendant approached them, and Jace named their destination. They were escorted inside, the doors noiselessly closed, and he felt the familiar drop in the pit of his stomach as the elevator ascended.

“This is a fast one,” he said, mostly to calm Katya, who looked a bit uneasy at the rapid ascent.

She shrugged off his reassuring hand. “I am fine.”

Turning away so the attendant couldn’t see his face, Jace said. “Team Jayne, sitrep?”

Oleg’s deep voice filled his ear. “Team Jayne is in position. Everything is quiet down here.”

Everyone was in place: the assault team was secure in the parking structure underneath the building. Vanner and two of his intel girls had the best positions; in a full suite on the 105th floor, coordinating audio and visual for all of the teams and the Keldara on the boat. All they needed now was for their guest to show . . .

When they exited the elevator, Jace hid his smile at Katya’s smothered gasp at the restaurant before them. It was a set in a long, rectangular room on one side of the building, its high ceiling nearly lost in the dimness above. The main room was lit by a large wooden candelabra that resembled a wagon wheel, with a couple dozen white-shaded lights casting a soft glow over the diners. On their right was a black stone wall split horizontally by a narrow window. Through it, the chefs could be seen working their culinary magic. Just past the maître d’s station on their left was a black lacquer shelf that stretched from floor to ceiling. It contained at least fifty small spaces, each filled with a small ceramic jar, and matched an equally tall wine rack at the far side of the room. Beyond the tea shelf was a row of floor-to-ceiling windows that ran the length of the restaurant, giving the diners a spectacular view of Victoria Harbor and Hong Kong at night. The air swirled with exotic, inviting scents, from the aroma of roasting fish to the spicy tang of what Jace was sure was barbeque sauce. Despite his being on point and sweeping the area, his stomach grumbled at the smells.