Chapter 24

Clearly, having been tended to by an oral virtuoso had turned Chelsea’s mind into Swiss cheese.

It was either that or the fact that Dagan Zoelner was huge and horny and standing in front of her in nothing but his birthday suit. Because for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why there was a hard stone of remorse lodged in the center of her chest, why there was a rough, sooty kind of sadness swirling around the edges of her brain.

Her eyes drank in the sight of his broad shoulders. His heavy chest with its crinkly hair. His washboard stomach that flexed with every breath. The tattoos on his body that stood out in thick, black ink.

On his inner right forearm were the words To Thine Own Self Be True. He had once told her he got the ink after unwittingly becoming Senator Aldus’s puppet, a reminder to never be taken in again.

A huge Grim Reaper decorated the meaty bulge over his left shoulder. It was a snarling, hooded creature with the traditional scythe. To emphasize that death is always near and that I should live each day as if it’s a gift, he’d said when she’d asked him about it.

And then there was the list of initials inked into his flank. Three sets. One for each agent who had died in the café in Kabul. A memorial to them that was far more personal than the stars carved into the lobby wall back at Langley—and a way to never let himself forget.

As if he would.

Seeing the tattoo made that hard stone of remorse grow larger, made that rough, sooty sadness spread deeper. But then he stepped between her legs, pulling her against his broad chest, and all rational thought became impossible.

She could smell the spicy scent of her own release clinging to his beard. The hairs on his chest were wonderfully abrasive against her nipples. And after a few minutes of kissing her to within an inch of her life, he cupped one sensitive globe and plumped it high, thumbing over the taut tip.

Blood that had cooled burned hot once again. He gently removed her glasses and set them aside before he slipped a finger into the place where she was slick and hungry and beginning to ache anew.

This man… This big, bearded, bossy man was everything she had ever dreamed he’d be and more. So much hotter. So much sexier. So much dirtier. And for this moment, for this brief bit of time out of time, she would forget everything but making him happy, giving him joy and pleasure and anything and everything he wanted.

He inserted a second finger, stretching her tight. “You have the sweetest, hottest little pussy I’ve ever tasted. I can’t wait to get my cock in it. I’ll fill you so full.” His lips moved relentlessly against her own. “I’ll hit all those spots inside you. The ones you know about and the ones you don’t.”

She didn’t doubt it. She hadn’t been joking about that whole preternaturally big dick thing. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Dagan was hung like a horse. Long and thick, with heavy veins and a bulbous crown that was so red and swollen it was shiny.

In all honesty? She was a little nervous.

Of course, any hesitation was forgotten as soon as he began to pump his fingers. In and out. Slow and steady. Using his thumb to thrum the knot of nerves at the top of her sex.

She squirmed and pressed against his talented, marauding fingers like the shameless hussy she was. She wanted more. She needed more.

He gave it to her by curling his fingers inside her and rubbing against that spot that only Junior Patrick, her battery-operated boyfriend, had touched in…years now.

Really? Years?

She searched her memory and realized that it had actually been over two years. Twenty-six months to be precise since the last time she had gotten a little sumpin’-sumpin’. And, truth be told, she wasn’t sure that last time really counted.

Number one, she’d had a third glass of wine, which had pushed her over the county line of Tipsy into that little town known as Slightly Drunk. Number two, the guy she had gone to bed with was a friend of a friend, and not someone she was all that attracted to. He had reminded her a bit of Peregrin Took, short with elfin features and boyishly curly hair. She had only agreed to go out with him because she’d been desperate to stop longing for a man she could never have. And number three, the whole business had been over before she’d had the chance to come.

And speaking of coming…

Dagan was building the sensation inside her. It was becoming an intense burn that rose higher and flashed hotter as his fingers down below kept time with his stroking tongue up above. Then he pinched her nipple, and white lightning flashed across her skin.

Her toes curled. Her head fell back on her neck. She might have cried out his name, but she couldn’t be sure since she was coming and coming and coming some more.