Unmasked: Volume Three (4 page)

T
he private jet
we charter to Nice is well-appointed and the air-conditioned air is the first reprieve we’ve had from the oppressive humidity of the warehouse. The first thing Alex wants to do after the plane has reached cruising altitude is no surprise to me because I’m in complete agreement.

I follow Alex into the jet’s bathroom, then I close the door behind me. She’s frozen for a moment, staring at the shower stall enclosed in double-thick tempered glass, to withstand falls caused by turbulence. I step toward her until my chest is brushing up against her back. Reaching forward, I take her left hand in mine and lean forward to whisper in her ear.

“If you prefer, I can wait outside.”

“No,” she replies with haste, shaking her head. “Don’t go. I need you to help me.”

She turns around to face me and raises her arms in the air so I can remove her T-shirt. I pull the shirt off gently and toss it onto the counter. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her slowly as I undo the clasp on her bra. Her mouth opens wider, inviting me to quell her thirst for more.

I slip the straps of her bra off her shoulders, then I plant a tender kiss on her neck as I let it fall to the floor. I reach for the button of her jeans, being careful not to touch her stab wound. Kneeling before her, I help her step out of her pants. Her black panties follow her jeans and I gaze at her beautiful body for a moment before I lay a soft kiss on her abdomen. I look up at her and her chest is heaving with anticipation.

She traces her finger over the discolored skin on the left side of her torso. “This is the first time you’ve seen my body in the light.”

“And you’re more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

I have to go easy on her so I don’t exasperate her injury. I grip the back of her knee then slide my hand up slowly until it’s between her legs. She closes her eyes and leans her head back as I glide my middle finger inside her. I move my finger in and out a few times, then I gently drag it forward onto her swollen clit.

She whimpers and her knees begin to buckle. I tease her with soft caresses; not firm enough for her to climax, but just enough to drive her crazy. When she begins to double over, I remove my hand from between her legs and stand up.

She cups her hand over her throbbing clit, watching me undress as she tries to catch her breath. When I’m naked, I turn on the shower and adjust the water temperature. I turn around and she’s smiling.

“Are you real?” she whispers, reaching forward to run her fingers over my abdominal muscles. “You’re exquisite.”

I smile at the compliment, then I take her hand in mine and lead her into the shower. “Turn your back to the water.”

She stands under the showerhead with the water cascading over her glistening skin, which has been bronzed by the island sun. I sweep her hair over her shoulders as she leans her head back. I kiss her neck, sucking gently and savoring the flavor of salt on her skin as my hands land on her waist.

Pulling her body flush against me, my erection slides over her slick abdomen then down and between her thighs. She gasps and twirls her hips in a greedy gesture that rubs her clit against the head of my cock.

I hold her hips steady to still her movement. “You just stand there and relax.” I issue the command in a low growl. “I’ll give you what you want.”

I grab a small bottle of body wash off the marble shelf and deposit a good amount into my palm. I massage the soap into her neck and shoulders, kneading away the tension before I move down her arms and legs. I get some soap in my hand and she nods in anticipation.

I slide my hand between her thighs and she grabs onto my neck to steady herself as I caress her tender flesh. My fingers glide between every crease and she whimpers each time I hit her clit. After a few seconds, the soap has washed away. I remove my hand and kneel before her.

Reaching behind her, I grab her ass firmly as I lean forward and slip my tongue between her swollen lips. I slide my right hand down the back of her thigh and gently lift her leg so her foot is resting on the top of my thigh. She grips the shelf as I use my tongue to massage the flesh around her clit. I want to go easy on her. I also want to draw out the pleasure as long as possible. I’ve been longing to put my mouth on her since the last night we were together. I must savor this moment.

Using my left hand to part her lips, I lick all around her pussy, purposely avoiding her clit. Her whimpers come more high-pitched the longer I tease her.

“Oh, God. Please, Daimon.”

The sound of her pleading gets my cock painfully engorged. I want to be inside her so bad, but she needs a couple weeks for her body to recover. But that doesn’t mean I can’t pleasure her orally.

I slide my finger between her cheeks as I close my lips around her clit. I massage her tight opening while sucking gently on her delicate rosebud. It takes a moment before she’s relaxed enough for me to slide my finger inside her. She lets out a deep moan followed by audible panting. I push in a bit further as my tongue glides over her clit in tight circles.

Her hand finds my head and yanks my hair as her body begins to spasm. “Daimon! Don’t stop. I’m coming.”

I slow the swirl of my tongue to draw out the orgasm as my finger moves in and out of her. Her knees buckle completely. I allow her to slide down until she’s seated on my knee, facing me and straddling my thigh as I kneel on the shower floor.

She throws her arms around me and buries her face in my neck. “I’ve missed you so much.”

H
e wraps
his arms
around my waist and pulls me closer to his chest. I take his earlobe between my teeth and tug softly. His cock twitches against my thigh and I seize the opportunity caused by this slight distraction to slide my hand down and grab hold of his erection. I form an O with my fingers and move my hand slowly up and down from the base to the tip.

He leans his head back and I suck on his neck as I pump my fist faster with each stroke. Then I stop and tilt my head back to see his reaction. He’s smiling because he knows what I want.

I sit on the floor of the shower as he stands up and plants each of his feet firmly on either side of my thigh. He leans forward, placing one of his hands on the shower wall for support. His other hand gently grabs the back of my head as he slides his thick cock into my mouth.

Keeping my left hand gripped firmly around the base of his cock, I use my other hand to pleasure myself. The tip of his massive erection slides in and out of my mouth, going just a bit farther with each thrust. Then he eases up on me when he sees my eyes widen from the deep pressure in my throat.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls when he notices I’m about to climax again. “I want to see you come with my cock in your mouth. Come on, baby.”

It takes all my concentration not to bite down or choke when another orgasm rocks me. But I manage to hold it together and the moment I move my right hand up to massage his sac, he explodes in my mouth. His seed tastes sweeter this time. Maybe it’s the tropical island diet.

I swallow every last drop, then he helps me onto my feet so we can finish showering. I’m not sure how much hot water this plane has left, but it can’t be much. Once we’ve toweled ourselves dry and changed into clean clothes, we relax in the bedroom of the jet for the remainder of the six-hour flight.

A private car is waiting for us at the Côte d’Azur International Airport in Nice, France. It whisks us away and I savor the twenty-minute drive cuddled up with Daimon in the backseat, ten minutes of which are spent driving along the most stunning coastline I’ve ever seen.

Route de Bellet delivers us to a grand chateau nestled in the rolling green hills of Nice. We have no baggage, other than the emotional kind, so as soon as the car pulls into the circular driveway, Daimon helps me out and we head straight for the enormous, rustic double doors of the chateau. Daimon reaches for the iron circle hanging just below the peephole, but the door opens before he can grasp the knocker.

A man with shoulder-length caramel brown hair holds his arms open. “Daimon!” he shouts, and they embrace as he continues excitedly in French.

“Alex, this is my brother, Victor.”

I smile, trying not to appear as useless as a door-knocker on a 10,000 square foot chateau. But that’s difficult when I’ve never been anywhere near a place this beautiful. Is this the lifestyle in which Daimon was raised? A job as a detective for the Los Angeles Police Department would be a long fall from this. Why would he take a job as a hit man if it wasn’t for the money?

Victor tilts his head and smiles even wider as he realizes I don’t speak French. “How rude of me! I didn’t know you only speak English. So nice to meet you, Alex. Please, come inside. Come.”

Victor and Daimon exchange an uneasy look when we enter and I get the feeling we are not as welcome as Victor would have me believe. Daimon grabs my hand as Victor leads us into a large sitting room with a wall of French doors that look out onto a courtyard. In the center of the neatly trimmed shrubs surrounding the courtyard, is a sleek water fountain with a modern copper sculpture. Daimon leads me to a plush taupe sofa in the sitting room while Victor takes a seat in a boxy armchair across from us.

Victor grabs a bottle of wine off the rustic coffee table between us and uncorks it as he speaks. “Interpol is looking for a man with dark hair and blue eyes and a woman with red hair and skin discoloration. It will be easy to disguise you, but they’re increasing security at the Grand Prix. She knows you’re coming for her.”

He pours each of us a glass of red wine and slides two glasses across the table toward Daimon and me. Daimon hands me my glass and I almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I’m at my lover’s brother’s chateau in France, planning a way to get past security at one of the world’s most exclusive social events of the year, and I’m not even old enough to drink this wine. At least, not in the states. In France, this is perfectly acceptable. Well, except for the things we’re planning.

Daimon brings his glass to his perfect lips, and I can’t help but envy the glass. He swallows the wine and smiles at me. “You don’t drink wine?”

I take a sip and I’m pleasantly surprised. It’s smoother than the wine I drank with Nick in La Palma. My chest constricts painfully at the thought of Nick. I killed him.

Yes, it was technically self-defense, but that doesn’t change the fact that I killed a man. Even after all those years of combat training with my father, I never thought I’d have to use the skills he taught me. I never thought I’d be a killer.

“Do you like it?” Daimon asks and I nod. “Are you not feeling well? You’re shaking.”

I glance at my wine glass and the liquid is trembling in my grasp. “I need to lie down.”

Daimon takes the glass from my hand and places both our drinks on the coffee table. “I’ll take you to our room.”

He says something in French to Victor and his brother replies in French. I don’t know if they’re doing it for convenience, but it makes me even more anxious. What is wrong with me? I was trained to be calm in stressful situations. It must be the hormones.

Daimon leads me up a gorgeous curved staircase to the second floor. The corridor upstairs is at least fifteen feet wide. Who needs all this space?

“What are you thinking?” he asks as he leads me toward the third door on the left.

I could tell him the truth, that I’m thinking of Nick and my father, but I’ll risk upsetting him. Or he may decide I’m not ready for this mission. I’m not one to go into a project like this knowing I’m not ready. It’s only since Daimon entered my life that I’ve been behaving recklessly. Acting impulsively instead of methodically.

I enter ahead of him and he closes the door. The bedroom is simple yet spacious. The creamy white linens bathed in the soft glow of the late-afternoon sunlight pouring through the French doors, which lead onto a balcony.

“What makes you think we’re safe here?” I whisper, as he pushes the bedroom door open. “If he’s your brother, won’t they come looking for us here first?”

He stares into my eyes for a long, tense moment before he responds. “No one will look for us here. Victor and I faked our own deaths many years ago, after our parents died.”

“Why?” I ask, though I have a feeling I may not want to know.

He heaves a deep sigh then continues. “We grew up on a small dairy farm in the countryside, far away from civilization. Our parents loved to take out the belt or the paddle when we misbehaved. But they really liked to hurt Victor the most. He’s four years older than I am, but I felt the need to protect him. I was fourteen the first time I stopped my father from killing Victor. The second time, I was fifteen… There was never a third time.

“I never thought I would become a killer. It was not my childhood dream. But it’s something I do well. I don’t pretend to know who deserves to die in the eyes of God. I only know who deserves to die in my eyes. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn’t become an assassin, but I never wonder whether I made the right choice in protecting my brother.”

He brushes the tears away from my cheek and gazes into my eyes awaiting my response.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” I whisper.

Daimon takes my hand and we both sit on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to do this. I can do it alone. It’s the way I’ve always done it.”

“You don’t want me to go with you?”

“I didn’t say that.” He reaches up and turns my face toward his. “I want you to do whatever will give you the most peace. If you think you need to face her, then that is what I want. If this mission makes you nervous; if you think it will transform you into a person you cannot live with, then I don’t want you to go. I just want you to be happy with whatever you choose.”

I gaze into his eyes, looking for a sign of uncertainty, but it’s me who’s having doubts. Not him. “Is there anything in this world that you’re afraid of?”

A shadow passes over his blue eyes as his face hardens. “I’m afraid of losing you.”