Chapter 15
Fairchild stumbled through the door of their suite, her body and lips locked with Nash’s. They’d both been playing their parts from the moment they’d stepped into the hotel a few minutes ago, and right now Nash was playing his exceedingly well.
As for Fairchild… she wasn’t really playing at all.
She’d been a bundle of nerves ever since they’d landed, and those nerves had only gotten worse after Reece had split off from the group to follow those armed men. The only thing she could do now was to drown herself in the pleasure she knew Nash could give.
Without breaking their kiss, they turned in a dizzy, sex-drunk loop, half tripping over each other’s feet, hands tugging at clothing and flesh until finally Nash shoved her hard against the wall.
Fairchild’s hip bumped a console table beside her, jostling an expensive-looking china vase.
She saw it totter in the corner of her vision, then tumble over the edge.
“Oh!” she gasped.
A huge hand dipped and caught the vase mere inches from the floor. It wasn’t either of Nash’s hands. Both of those were clamped firmly on Fairchild’s ass.
Dutton.
The quiet Merc lifted the vase and gently set it back in its place, unharmed. A faint smirk twitched the corner of his bearded mouth.
“Careful,” he said. “You break it, you buy it.”
“Shit,” Nash said, laughing. “We can afford it.”
That was technically true. The Guild had provided them with virtually unlimited funds for this mission. They were supposed to be a wealthy polycule, after all. Their story was that they had earned their fortune in spider-silk, an industry Reece had acquired some knowledge of from his parents.
Naturally, the Guild was footing the bill for the lavish suite where Fairchild and her teammates would be staying—and it was indeed lavish, now that she actually bothered to take a look around.
The place was freaking huge, bigger than any barracks Fairchild had ever called home.
The design was an open concept—a spacious central room, with a sunken lounge, granite-topped wet bar, and floor-to-ceiling sliding glass windows overlooking the resort.
Doors branched off into other, more specialized rooms—kitchen, dining room, bath—and a grand curving staircase swept upward to a second balcony level.
Everything was so wide-open it made Fairchild’s skin crawl, and her mind immediately started computing potential strong points where she might defend against an attack, from the entrance, from the windows, from the various rooms.
At last, she let her attention settle on the bed.
It was not tucked away discreetly in its own separate room, as one might expect, but rather it occupied a central place of honor in the main area of the suite, surrounded by cameras, some of them positioned on tripods, others mounted on a metal framework suspended above.
Fairchild’s heart started thumping faster.
This was the one factor her training had not prepared her for.
Aboard the Allura, she and her teammates had practiced every position they could think of, every tempo, every mood.
Hard, fast, slow, deep, you name it. She had taken them two and sometimes even three at a time, and she had done it all with a smile.
But there was one key difference: they’d been doing it alone.
Now they had an audience.
Granted, there had also been an audience of sorts that very first time in the briefing room, but that had been different. She’d known that Barnes and Lennox weren’t getting off to her performance. Now, there was no telling what kind of perverts would be watching.
And there was a possibility one of them would be Slayn.
“So,” Dutton said, not even slightly breaking character. “Would you like to take the grand tour, or…?”
Fairchild shook her head and forced a smile.
“Later,” she said. “Bed.”
Dutton chuckled softly. He looked incredibly handsome with those glasses on, and his smile helped to ease her tension ever so slightly. He glanced at Nash.
“Why don’t the two of you get the bed warmed up for me?” he said. “I’m going to take a quick spin around the place, make sure it will suffice.”
Nash grinned broadly. “With pleasure.”
The younger Merc swept Fairchild off her feet—literally—and flung her over his shoulder.
Fairchild squealed in response. It was not a sound that came naturally to her—squealing was childish, and she hadn’t really had much of a childhood—but she’d been working on her squeal over the past week, and she felt she had honed it to something that sounded relatively convincing.
Nash certainly seemed to like it. He rumbled hungrily, and carried her toward the bed, one strong hand squeezing her butt through her dress. Fairchild reached back and pulled off her high-heels, letting them clunk to the floor with a practiced carelessness.
When they reached the bed, Nash threw her down on the mattress, and she landed with a bounce. She swam her arms across the smooth, satin covers and stared up at Nash as he removed his coat.
She was trying her best to ignore the cameras.
Half her mind was following Dutton as he strolled around the suite, studying everything through the lenses of his designer glasses.
To an outside observer, he probably looked like an ordinary resort guest taking in his surroundings, but Fairchild knew what he was really doing.
He was using the Guild-modified glasses to study the electronics hidden behind the walls, searching for traps.
He went over to the wet bar and began examining the bottles.
Nash crawled onto the bed and kissed her, and she let herself melt into the satin. His hands were on her thighs, pushing up her dress. She lifted her hips, letting him push the fabric all the way up to her waist. She wasn’t wearing panties.
Above her, one of the cameras whirred and shifted its angle.
Downstairs, the clerk had explained how the exhibitionist suite worked. Footage from the cameras would be sent live to the resort network, where it could be watched by any of the other guests on Calyxia. For a fee, guests could even pay to control the cameras, getting a better view of the action.
So, at least one person was watching right now as Nash slowly kissed his way up her thigh to her exposed center. Someone who was interested enough to pay a little extra for camera control.
Could it be…?
No. It couldn’t. Not so soon after their arrival. But the Guild had told her Slayn had a voyeuristic streak, and that meant he would be watching sooner or later. That thought made Fairchild’s blood run cold inside her.
Then Nash’s mouth reached its destination, and everything ran hot again. She moaned softly as his warm, wet tongue played across her clit.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Right there. Oh God, that feels so good.”
It wasn’t an act. Not entirely. As annoying as Nash could sometimes be, there was no denying his skill in bed.
He manipulated her body with a pilot’s precision.
Many times over the past week, he had brought her to orgasm with a flick of his tongue or stroke of a finger.
It was infuriating how easily he could make her come.
At the moment, however, he was taking his time with it, teasing her right up to the edge of her climax, then drawing back again, charging up her pleasure in preparation for an explosive release.
The cocky bastard was going to make her beg for it, wasn’t he?
“Don’t stop,” Fairchild whimpered, combing her fingers through his thick hair as he licked her. “Please don’t stop. That feels so—”
A muffled pop from the other side of the room made her turn her head and gasp, but it was just Dutton. He had uncorked a bottle of pink champagne, and now the foam was oozing from the mouth of the bottle, creamy and bright. Fairchild watched as he began to fill a thin glass flute.
She began to come.
“Oh my God!” she moaned, clutching at the bedsheets and arching her back. “Oh my God, Oh my God!”
Nash wasn’t satisfied with a single orgasm.
Oh no. He sucked her clitoris deep between his lips and continued to strum with the tip of his tongue, forcing her to endure one shocking climax after the next.
Yet even in that whirling blizzard of pleasure, Fairchild’s mind kept going back to Reece.
He wasn’t just her teammate, he was her friend, and right now he was all alone in enemy territory.
He’ll be fine, she tried to tell herself. He knows what he’s doing. There’s no way Slayn’s people will clock him for a Merc. They won’t even know he’s following them…
But then, Reece’s safety wasn’t her only concern.
Not if she was being honest with herself.
She’d seen the way the other women at the resort had been looking at him as he walked past. She’d seen the way they’d been looking at all three of her teammates.
And why wouldn’t they look? They were easily the three sexiest men in the entire resort right now. Of that, Fairchild had no doubts.
What if one of those women decided to proposition Reece on his way back to the room? This was Calyxia, after all. Anonymous, no-strings-attached sex was the order of the day.
Fairchild knew it shouldn’t matter to her. This was a mission, nothing more. They had to remain in character, no matter what that entailed.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop thinking about Reece with some other random woman, and the thought made her feel sick.
She needed a distraction.
Her fingers clutched at Nash’s hair, and she yanked his head up from between her legs, perhaps a little too forcefully. He gave her a puzzled look.
“I need you inside me,” Fairchild said. “Now.”
It sounded a bit too much like a command, but the need in her voice helped to take the edge off it a little.
“As you wish,” Nash said with that trademark smirk, but the smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes. He probably didn’t understand everything that was going on inside her, but he understood enough—this was no time for teasing and games.