Chapter 16
Doralee
“Did I pass out again?” My eyes flutter open and I find myself cocooned in Cricket’s heat, my body light as a feather while the only thing holding me down to earth is his loving embrace.
“I’m not sure you’re passing out. You were speaking to me, although I don’t think you were aware of the conversation,” he murmurs against my forehead.
“What did I say?”
He smiles. “That’s for me to know.”
“If I’m not passing out, what am I doing?”
“Astral projecting, perhaps? Out of body experience? I’m not exactly sure. We don’t talk about our intimate moments with our mates, although I believe the ladies have had a few conversations.”
Placing my palm on his chest, I pull back to look at him. “Huh?”
Cricket chuckles. “It’s not important right now, babe. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been wrung dry again.” Deep-seated love makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest as I stare up at his beautiful face. It’s both overwhelming and a bit terrifying. I lick my lips and trail my gaze down his body to his hard, erect cock. “Did you come?”
“Not yet.”
“Did you bite me again?”
“I did.” He nods.
“No apologies this time?” I tease.
“It’s too late for apologies. After you understand everything, if you want me to grovel, I will.
I’ll gladly drop to my knees and bury my face in your pussy anytime you want, babe.
” He rolls me to my back and settles between my thighs.
I can feel the bite mark this time, or a tender area high on my inner thigh, but it doesn’t hurt.
Instead, I feel like it’s connected to the surge of emotion rushing through my veins and making my heart full.
I spread my legs wider and hook my ankles behind his back. “Maybe you should take your pleasure from me now?”
“Everything about you pleases me.” He slips inside of me, my inner walls immediately tightening around him, as if using muscle memory. Cricket groans and nuzzles his mouth against my neck. “Your body begs for my seed. Are you on birth control?”
“Yes.” I tighten my legs and tilt my hips, urging him on. “You can come inside me.”
He pumps his hips slowly, dragging his cock across my g-spot and squeezing arousal out of me. I’ve never been so wet that it drips out with every push and pull of his length. I’m almost embarrassed by how slick I am when Cricket hooks his forearm under my knee to bring it close to my head.
His speed increases and his thrusts are harder as he growls in my ear, “You’re so fucking wet for me. There is no bigger turn-on than for your body to show me how much you want me.”
Another orgasm hits, not nearly as soul-splintering as the last one, but unbelievably satisfying as I cry out, “Fuck, I love this. I love—” I stop myself from completing that sentence and press my lips against Cricket’s.
He swallows my moans, groaning as he shoots cum deep inside me.
His mouth feels weird against mine, and he nips my bottom lip when he pulls back and tucks his face into my neck again.
While his cock jerks to completion, the muscles in his back spasm under my fingertips, a full-body orgasm taking over.
He sags on top of me, both of us panting for breath.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers.
“Yes, you are.” I giggle and suck his earlobe between my teeth.
“We, babe. Together, we are perfect.”
Eighteen hours later, my heart is full, and my body is gloriously used, but my mind is twisted.
I think I’m in love, but it’s not rational to fall for a guy I met less than forty-eight hours ago. It has to be lust, right? My heart and brain are confused by my well-worn pussy, which Cricket plays like a maestro.
I walk out of the warehouse in a different suit, this one black with royal purple pinstripes and short-heeled boots. I have on a purple camisole underneath, and a bold, intricate necklace with a tiny button camera embedded in the center stone around my neck.
Standing by in another black suit, Crash’s eyes are shielded by his aviator glasses, but I can’t miss the way his nostrils flare and jaw clenches as I approach him and the vehicle. He turns away from me, but keeps his fingers wrapped around the door handle.
“Everything okay?” I whisper, hoping none of the other agents hear me.
“Fine.” His words are strangled as he closes the door behind me.
He knows.
I don’t know how he knows, because Cricket wouldn’t have told him, but he knows.
Nestled in the backseat, I keep glancing at Crash sitting next to me—although he is doing his best to ignore me—as Rumpert drives us to the auction. Agents Melon, Bennett, and Caldwell are in the SUV following us, while Cricket and Pitch are off doing something else.
What that is, no one but the SpecOps guys know, which is a different problem. If it was anyone other than Cricket, I would’ve demanded to know what was going on in the periphery of my operation—but because it’s him, I didn’t push.
Who am I?
We drive south for an hour to the defunct cattle ranch—my palms, the back of my neck, and underarms sweating the closer we get.
Fuck, I’m nervous.
Crash lets out a deep breath, leans into my side, and places a gentle hand on my forearm. “Relax. It’s going to be fine.”
I glance at Rumpert and Castor—neither of whom turn around—hoping they didn’t hear him before I turn to Crash.
“I’m not afraid for us. I’m anticipating my reaction to having the victims paraded out in front of us.
How will I school my features so everyone doesn’t know how disgusted I am by all of it? ”
He reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a second pair of aviators. “We’re international buyers, and like the Hollywood elite, people expect us to remain incognito. Put these on. You’ll notice you can see clearly regardless of the night sky.”
I slide them on, thankful they are oversized. “And the rest of my face?”
“We’ll grab a drink and whenever you feel your lips curling in disgust, you’ll bring your glass to your mouth.”
“Too bad you didn’t have a glass in your hand earlier.” I don’t know why I say it, but it brings his gaze up to mine, not that either of us can see the other’s eyes.
“It’s complicated, Doralee.”
“I’m sure it is, but you are brothers.” I leave it at that, because what else can I say?
“Yeah.” He turns away from me to look out the window as Rumpert slows down to pull off the main road. There is a gate erected that wasn’t there two nights ago, as well as two teams of security checking each car.
“Passcode?” the guy says to Rumpert as Crash rolls down his window.
“Hegemony,” he says with the supreme confidence he rocked before Cricket got here.
“Who is in the car behind you?”
“Security,” Crash answers.
“Your invitation stated one bodyguard per buyer.”
“They’ll stay with the vehicles. They’re not here for the auction, but for our protection during transit.”
“Are you in danger?” The guy who reeks of ex-military swagger smirks.
Crash pulls off his glasses, his voice a low growl. “No. We’re not.”
The security guard takes a step back, his lips curled. “All electronics and cameras stay in the vehicle. Follow the guy with the flashlight. He’ll show you where to park.”
We drive around the property to a lot full of vehicles, my heart sinking at the sheer number in attendance. “Holy shit. Look at all of these buyers.”
“Fucking disgusting,” Castor sneers and jumps out of the passenger seat, opening my door for me.
“Showtime.” Crash squeezes my forearm again before sliding his aviators back on his face.
We walk as a unit, Castor and Rumpert behind Crash and myself.
There is a walkway made of pavers on the ground, the path covered by a lit-up canopy that gives the industrial-sized barn a slightly sophisticated feel.
Inside the doorway, Sethegh and Vantz stand by to greet people, but it feels like they’re waiting for us specifically, as they quickly dismiss the hands they’re shaking.
Sethegh steps up, his aftershave overwhelming, and snatches my un-offered hand to bring it to his lips. “Hello again, Ms. Kuznetsov.”
“Mr. Sethegh.” I pull my hand away, disgust lacing my tone.
“Sethegh.” Crash wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to his side. “I thought we talked about this?”
“Did we?” The lack of respect he shows Crash twists my guts and makes me wonder what they know.
“Yes, we did,” Crash growls, putting himself between us.
“No need for hostility,” Vantz interjects.
“But respect is mandatory,” I quip.
Fuck both these assholes.
His eyes search my face before he nods. “Indeed. It’s open seating. Use the paddle on the chair. Your account will settle automatically at the end of the auction, and you’ll be sent a notification via the secure app on your phone. Any questions?”
“No.” Crash’s fingers tense on my hip. “We’ve done this before.”
“Of course you have. You are professionals.”
We walk away from them to take two seats at the end of the third row on the farthest side of the stage.
“Fucking pricks,” Crash grumbles.
“Do you think they know?” I whisper, cutting Castor and Rumpert out of the conversation while I touch the camera on my necklace to turn it on.
I wasn’t sure if they would wand us, so I made sure there were no electrical impulses to detect.
It’s also why this is wireless technology, which means I’ll have to upload it from the SSD card when I get back to the office.
“Maybe.”
We stand up and slowly look around the room, clocking the other attendees here to bid. I recognize a few from photographs—buyers from the Middle East, Russia and the former Soviet Union, as well as South America.
A young girl no older than twelve walks up with a tray in her hand. “Champagne?”
We both take glasses and I turn to face Crash, my voice quivering. “Shit. She’s a baby.”
“Hold it together, Doralee. We’re going to save her and everyone else.”
His words remind me of Cricket, who I feel close by, although I don’t know why. If he was here, wouldn’t Crash tell me? “God, I hope so.”