Undercovers (3 page)

The moment she disappeared, Gabe turned his sharp gaze on Roarke.

“You want to tell me why your door was locked?”

He shrugged, thinking back to the time when he, Gabe and Collette had been indulging in some very carnal activities in the break room when their previous captain, a now very happily retired Captain Moliker, had demanded to know the same thing.

He grinned at the scowl on Gabe’s face, dropping back down into his chair.

“I don’t know, Gabe. Why do you think that door was locked?”

Charter Two

No fucking the rookie!

Those were Gabe’s instructions. For the assignment, that was acceptable, if it came to that, but outside of that, Jasmeene was off limits.

Roarke sipped his drink, waiting for the object of his thoughts to make her way onto the stage. He and Gabe had two different agendas—his friend was concerned with unit politics and harassment suits. Him? Not so much. Jasmeene was a big girl and she knew the word no, after all she used it on him often enough.

The music cued—a sexy, pop beat, and the DJ called her name—Delilah. He lifted the glass to his lips, hiding his smile. Delilah was the perfect name for his elusive seductress.

Since their kiss a week ago, she’d evaded and avoided him with the expertise of a secret agent. When they were on assignment, she was professional and focused, and he begrudgingly had to admit that she was doing a fine job gathering information. But when they were at the office, she was cool and professional, absolutely no hint of the passionate woman he’d held in his arms.

She was driving him crazy, his mind and body restless, to the point where he wondered if he was ill. He could barely sleep because she haunted his dreams; could hardly feed because he was plagued by thoughts of the sienna skin of her smooth neck and how he wanted to feed only from her. The last time he’d experienced such a strong longing, the woman had been his heart mate, but she was gone, lost to him for eternity. It was impossible to feel these stirrings for another woman in his lifetime.

Which was why this had to stop. It was a bad case of lust—nothing more. He was determined to have her. The sooner he did, the sooner he could get her out of his system and return to his normal life, unencumbered by obsessive thoughts of the fiery beauty.

She stepped out on stage, at the same time someone sat down in the seat beside him. He took his eyes off of her for only a second.

“Jensen,” Roarke said with a curt nod.

“Mr. Romero.” He followed Roarke’s gaze to the stage. “I’ve noticed you’ve taken a liking to our new girl.”

“She’s intriguing.”

“And hot.” Jensen chuckled, and Roarke flashed him a courteous smile. He loathed Jensen Aucklane, the vampire he’d been able to tie to the prostitution ring. He had enough to bring Jensen in, but not enough to tie him to the murders. Roarke didn’t think Jensen was their guy anyway. The killer was someone sinister, without emotion or feeling. Roarke would have sensed an absence of emotion had Jensen been a murderer. Jensen had plenty of emotions, most of them centred on lust.

“So how much would it cost me for a night with her?”

“The new girl?”

Roarke nodded, his eyes glued to Jasmeene. Before she’d arrived, he’d established his cover months ago as Mr. Lucas Romero, a wealthy businessman who travelled often to Las Vegas. He would drop in a couple times a month, and throw around large bills as if it was nothing. But since Jasmeene had begun ‘working’, he’d been there every night, all night, for a week, watching her do her routine, simply watching over her. He’d seen her dressed in pasties, barely there bikinis, and ridiculously high platform stilettos, but never did he grow tired of watching her reveal what she’d shown dozens of times already. When she flung off her top, her heavy breasts spilling forth, blood rushed to his cock, as if he was seeing her for the very first time. She twisted around the pole, her body writhing and humping it with such skilled expertise that he wondered if she’d done this before. She turned her back to him, and his gaze zeroed in on her tattoo. He smiled. Knowing her, she probably had.

He turned to Jensen. “So how much is she?”

“For you, Mr. Romero? Our valued customer—the first time is free.”

He forced a smile. He wanted to snap the guy’s neck. Jasmeene was priceless, and this jerk would give her to him for free.

He stood before he ripped out Jensen’s throat with his bare hands. “I want her waiting for me in my suite in five minutes.”

Jasmeene slipped into the room she’d been instructed to go to. She hadn’t been told who was waiting for her, and what was expected of her but she knew—especially when Jensen placed two five hundred dollar bills in her hand.

The room was spacious but dark, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.

Her eyes were drawn to him and a shiver raced down her spine. He sat, draped lazily in the chair, his tie undone, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the fine hairs of his bronzed chest. She sucked in a breath when her pussy clenched, her sheath filling with sticky, wet warmth.

She fought the urge to cross the room and touch him. From the moment they’d kissed, he’d reawakened her body, her need for him. She shook her head, forcing those thoughts right where they belonged—in the past. He didn’t remember her, how could he? He bedded a different woman every night. Her heart stuttered at the thought that she was just one in a long line of many, but it was the truth. She was just as nameless and faceless to him, as all the others.

Her gaze followed him as he stood and closed the distance between them, mesmerised by his long, thick legs, and the impressive bulge in his pants.

“Who was he?” He cupped her cheek, forcing her head back until their eyes met.

“Who was who?”

“The man who broke your heart? Who caused you so much pain?”

She bit back a gasp. “How do you know I’m in pain?”

“I can feel it. Your heart is wounded.”

She blanked her emotions. She’d forgotten he was an empath.

“And now you’ve closed yourself off from me.”

She drew away from him, and his disturbing touch. “Because that was a long time ago, and I would prefer to keep my past right where it belongs.”

He sighed, but instead of dropping his hand, he reached for her, drawing her into the circle of his arms.

“It’s not in the past, not when it still hurts you in the present—”

“Roarke—”

“But I don’t want to talk about whatever jerk you still carry a torch for.” He tangled his hand in her hair, forcing her head back. “I didn’t have you come here for that.”

She had no doubt why she was there—had known he’d send for her the moment he got up from his table. He never left before her set was done, but this time he had, and she’d known why.

She’d known this moment would come, had done her best to prepare herself for it. In her investigation, she’d discovered that while there was no sound, there were cameras in every room. Security was watching—and God knew who else. There was no getting out of it—and truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to anyway.

Her body knew him, recognised his touch, and it craved the intimate press of his flesh against hers, the steel, hard length of him pushing inside her cunt. She’d fought him, fought against this very moment, but now that she was here, she embraced it, determined to master him at his own game of seduction.

She’d gone to great lengths to prepare herself, so she was surprised by Roarke’s hesitance. After all, she’d thought he’d have her naked and panting as soon as she stepped inside.

“What’s wrong?”

He leaned into her, his face buried in the crook of her neck. To anyone watching it would appear as if he was kissing her there.

“I just want to be sure you’re all right with this.”

She sighed. “I’m fine. Besides they’re watching us, we have to do this.”

“I know, bu—”

“I need Jensen to believe that I’m willing to turn tricks. We have to go through with this.”

“I know.”

He still hesitated, and she knew it was because he worried for her.

She leant back. “Don’t grow a conscience on me now, Roarke.” She grasped his face between her hands. “I refuse to fail at this assignment.”

She kissed him then, her lips hard and demanding, and Roarke didn’t know whether to push her away or pull her close. She was using him, not intentionally, but it didn’t change the facts. If she did well on this assignment, it would look good in her file, and she was willing to do anything—including him, to make that happen. An emotion he didn’t want to examine coiled in his belly at that notion. He pushed it aside, trying to focus on her plump, round lips against his, but he couldn’t shake his annoyance with her. He’d told her to ignore her human side, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to deny her emotions, her feelings. At the very least, he wished she weren’t so cavalier about this entire situation.

Her hands caressing his bare chest shattered his thoughts. She’d made a good point earlier, he thought, his hands dipping to cup her fleshy ass. When the hell had he grown a conscience? He bedded women and walked away. Assignment or not, Jasmeene was just another woman to fuck. Why did he care so damned much? Jasmeene was a big girl. She could take care of herself.

He backed her to the bed, forcing her to the mattress when her knees connected with the edge. He followed her down, covering her body with his, in a tangle of limbs.

He could have removed her clothes with his mind, but he enjoyed the slow reveal of her flesh, every tantalising inch. He unhooked the metallic sequined bra, peeling it slowly down her body, her breasts spilling forth. From the moment she’d stripped in his office, he’d ached to capture the full weight of her mounds in his hands, to draw her berry ripe nipples inside his mouth.

She called his name, a breathless whisper that hardened his cock. He dipped his head, pulling a tight nub between his lips, sucking gently, drawing a choppy moan from her lips. The way she cried out, on the edge of passion was eerily familiar, but he didn’t stop to dwell on that.

His other hand skimmed the length of her body, across her taut middle, pushing aside her matching thong to explore the treasure between her legs. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hand skimming the blunt hairs of her shaved sex. He’d thought it sexy to look at, but to touch her had his cock begging to burst through his pants.

He dipped his finger into her wet sex, a groan spilling from his lips, when her hot tunnel clenched around him. He pushed inside her with two fingers, the tight feel of her around his digits, making it difficult to even breathe. He ached to slide inside her cunt, knowing her pussy walls would grip him so tightly, so firmly.

He trailed down the length of her down her body, roughly pushing her legs apart. He had to taste her, the scent of her arousal filling his lungs, made him ache with need. He didn’t stop the thrusting of his finger as he latched his mouth onto her clit, and sucked hard.

“Roarke,” she cried out, her back arching, her knees clamping round his head.

He worked her hot pussy until she was writhing against him, her juices covering his chin. He drove his fingers into her harder, curving upwards to brush against her g-spot. She exploded around him, a long, splintered moan filling the entire room.

Her body still quaked from her climax, and he climbed atop her again, his hands releasing the thick, ruddy length of his cock. He didn’t bother to remove his clothes, his need was too great.

The thick mushroom head of his dick was poised at her wet entrance. She opened her eyes then, their gazes clashing, and he drove into her on one rough stroke, burying his cock to the hilt.

He groaned, his eyes clenching shut as he struggled to breathe. She was so wet and tight around him like a juicy fist, and he fought not spurt with his first stroke. Desire crawled in his belly and he moved inside her then, his pace hard and hurried. She clasped her ankles behind his back, her body jerking off the bed, meeting his frenzied strokes.

Hoarse screams were ripped from her lips as they fucked like wild animals. His beast roared to life, his incisors exploding inside his mouth and lengthening. Her blood called to him, that pounding pulse along her neck. He ached to sink his teeth into her, just as he was sinking his cock, but he resisted. If he bit her, it would trigger her own beast, and anyone watching would know she wasn’t as human as they’d thought.

He rode her harder, in a desperate attempt to fight the urge to drink from her. His strokes went deeper, his thick meat pistoning back and forth until she tightened around him again, the hot, tight vice of her cunt dragging him into the storm of her orgasm.

He thrust into her once, twice, one last time, a harsh bellow escaping his lips as he spurted deep inside her, his seed filling her up. He collapsed against her, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he struggled to breathe.

She caressed his sweaty back, his dress shirt clinging to his torso. He rolled over, and let her up, watching as she reached for her clothing and donned her skimpy attire, not once casting him a glance.

A hard lump welled in his throat. He wanted to pull her down back into bed with him and hold her, make love to her slowly, take his time exploring her body. This animalistic rutting they’d just done was not what he wanted with her. She deserved to be made love to, not casually fucked.

“Jasmeene.”

She turned, her face once again cool and professional, as if they hadn’t just fucked each other’s brains out only minutes ago—as if he hadn’t just given her two explosive orgasms. How could she turn it on and off so easily? He had his answer when she spoke.

“I need to get back out on the floor. I have another set in thirty minutes.”

It was a job, everything she did was about performing well on her job, and nothing else mattered to her.

He now understood why she was such a good vice cop. She excelled at playing roles and getting the job done.

Hell, if she hadn’t come all over his cock earlier, he would have thought she’d faked that too.