Page 19 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
I can't help it; as I watch him handling his still semi-erect dick, I lick my lips.
"Natalia Petrova, you're going to be trouble around here, aren't you?" he growls, watching my mouth with hunger but deliberately tucking his cock back into his pants, then doing them up.
"I sure hope so," I breathe, still lightheaded from that seriously thorough fuck. "Isn't that what all prisoners are supposed to be? Trouble?"
Hawke narrows his eyes at me, but he can't hide his interest. "Prisoners are also supposed to be tied up." He pauses and gives me a pointed look. "I'm heading out," he tells me, as if his Kevlar armor and multiple guns didn't give that away.
Holy shit, he just fucked me while wearing at least three guns, that I can see. I didn't think I could be more turned-on by the whole situation, but he’s proving me wrong.
"What am I supposed to do?" I ask, biting my lip. All jokes aside, the reality of the situation is that I am their prisoner. A polite one, and not under any particular duress … yet … still not free to leave.
He raises an eyebrow at me with his hand on the doorknob. "Relax. Get to know my team. We’ll begin your training when I'm back tomorrow." Opening the door, he takes a step out then pauses and turns back to me. "Oh, and steer clear of Arsen. He's a dangerous fuck, and I'd hate to see you get hurt."
"Unless it's by you?" I reply with a sly grin and his eyes narrow.
"Different kind of hurt," he says with a dangerous voice, then turns and leaves without another word.
For a long time, I lie there on Colt's lumpy single mattress, my naked cunt exposed and aching as I stare at the ceiling. The way Hawke gave that warning reminded me of Arsen cornering me in the bathroom. He'd said then that his team was afraid he'd kill me.
I should be afraid. Terrified. So why does it only seem to arouse me?Chapter 5NATALIAOnce the sound of Hawke's footsteps fades away, I find a bathroom to clean myself up a bit before exploring the building. From what I can tell, it's an add-on at the back of the main church. It has sparse, utilitarian bedrooms with single beds in them and crucifixes on the walls, a small kitchen where I tried to make coffee, and that's about it.
Hunting through the fridge for something to eat, I can hear the chorus of voices coming from the main church where, presumably, Weston is holding mass.
Huh. They’re really taking this whole priest thing seriously.
Then again, it'd be pretty suspicious if they just cancelled all church services when they moved in. Which begs the question: where are the real priests?
Without really noticing what I'm doing, I drift over to a door which I assume might lead outside. Just as my fingers touch the doorknob, a heavy hand closes over my shoulder, and I jump in fright.
"Going somewhere, Natalia?" Mace rumbles, and my breath catches as the sound seems to reverberate through me.
Speechless, I shake my head, hoping my wide eyes convey the idea that I hadn't been about to make a run for it. I truly hadn't, I don't think. Prisoner or not, this has to be safer than risking it on my own, or worse … returning home.
"Good." He gives me a small smile that reaches all the way to his eyes, before holding up a bunch of shopping bags clenched in his huge fist. "I grabbed you some clothes from the shop down the street. We figured it probably wasn't safe for you to go home to get your own things, and as good as you do look in a nun’s habit …”
"It's maybe not the most appropriate attire?" I finish for him, and chuckle. My voice sounds breathy and needy, so I clear my throat to try and get it under control.
Mace shrugs one massive shoulder and hands me the bags. "Just figured you might be more comfortable. This mission could take a few weeks."
This causes my jaw to drop. "You mean to keep me here for weeks? I thought it'd maybe be like a couple of days or whatever. You finish whatever job you're doing, then you move on, and I'm free to go?"
"Weeks, yeah." Mace scratches thoughtfully at his stubbled chin. "If not longer. Of course that depends on the mission."
I peer inside the bags then narrow my eyes at him. "You're not FBI, are you?" Colt and Weston hadn't actually answered me when I'd asked this earlier, and it's pretty obvious, but I want an answer anyway.
Mace stares back at me for a long moment before replying. "No, sweetheart. We're something with considerably less rules. You'd do wise to tread carefully."
A shiver of fear runs through me, but I can't stop myself from asking more questions. Potentially life-threatening questions, but I'm already their prisoner so why not?
