A Private Duel with Agent Gunn (The Gentlemen of Scotland Yard) (25 page)

Her tongue circled the smooth head of his cock. He rasped out a groan, already breathing hard from the feel of her mouth on his lower anatomy. He gazed down, watching her moisten her lips and move them over tightly drawn, engorged flesh. A surge of pleasure washed through her as he coaxed her to take more. “Ah, Cate, do not stop. Suck me—yes . . .” He threw his head back and groaned, pumping in and out of her. Never too deep, but still, he pressed her, gently.

Tied to the bed and at his mercy, there was the most erotic sense of—trusting this man. Just as he promised, her arousal climbed with his. Cate sucked the tip and swirled her tongue around the shaft. She wanted to pleasure him; she enjoyed pleasuring him. Finn withdrew. “Catch your breath, my love.” His hand went around the shaft and stroked until she licked her lips.

“More.” She waggled the tip of her tongue into the cleft at the head and tasted a pearl-sized drop of seed. Salty. And the scent was pure Finn.

His gentle, insistent domination sent yet another wave of erotic arousal through her. Never had she felt anything like this. He reached into her hair and tugged as he pushed to the back of her throat. “You’re making me come,” he growled. His hips thrust faster and deeper until he withdrew with a shudder. He pumped his seed onto her chest and nipples. Upright on his knees, with his head angled back and his eyes closed, he looked like a demigod
kneeling at the gates of paradise. Finn inhaled and exhaled a number of deep breaths before he spoke. “That was most . . . gratifying.”

“Untie me. You’ve had your fun—and your satisfaction.”

“Ah, but you have not received yours, Cate.” He reached down between soft folds and stroked her pleasure spot—still swollen. “Cranky and frustrated?” he asked in that husky bedding voice of his. Her belly quivered when he increased the speed of his fondling. “Not unlike the state you aroused in me and then walked out—into the arms of those Red Shirt rapists, who would have each taken a turn.” He leaned over her body and licked a nipple. Her entire body trembled from the caress. Finn suckled the rosy tip deep, then let the nipple pop from his mouth. He backed away, but his tongue trailed past her navel and into her curls. Using both hands he parted folds. “Dusky rose petals—how many men have been here, since me?”

She met his gaze, her blue eyes glistening with desire. More than anything, she wanted what she knew would come next. From his lips and tongue. She released his gaze and her head rolled back on her shoulders. She spoke in a whisper, between harsh breaths. “There has only been you, Finn.”

“If memory serves, you very much liked this.” His lips met delicate swollen flesh and kissed. Gently he sucked more of her into his mouth and lapped his tongue over the spot.

Wave after wave of pleasure engulfed her. Between gasps and moans she whispered “Yes” and “More.” She strained against her bindings and wriggled restlessly, arching up to answer his tongue.

“Did I get that wrong? Should I stop?” A slow grin glistened with her arousal.

“Do not stop!” His fingers flicked and circled and teased, while his tongue delved deep inside. Her orgasm began with a whimper and ended with her hips bucking and her belly shuddering. And he did not stop until she begged him to stop.

He crawled over her body and paused to admire the look of rapture on her face. Her breathing was rapid but she smiled faintly when he kissed her nose. He straddled her and untied one hand, then the other. He massaged the red marks on both wrists, before he lay down beside her.

  *  *  *  

FINN WAS HARD again. His face was still wet, glistening with female essence. The scent of their lovemaking permeated the room, so sweetly exotic. He would keep her legs bound, for the time being. He was taking no chances. The last time he had her under him in bed she smashed the butt of a pistol into his temple.

He nuzzled her neck. “Now, my darling, shall we begin at the beginning—back on Eaton Square, when you so rudely cast me aside and left town?”

There was stillness from her, but he did not feel her body stiffen or pull away. Finally she tsked. “I did not cast you aside.”

“You did so.”

She lifted her head. “I had no choice, Finn.”

Her expression was open, honest, and her skin was luminous. She wore the look of a woman well pleasured. And he had done that to her. He exhaled a soft groan, and kissed her ear. “Please explain yourself, Cate.”

“That last night in London, when I arrived home, there was a message waiting for me—from my London contact. The note stated quite plainly that Eduardo was not dead. That my brother had feigned his own demise.”

“After the explosion in Béziers,
Los Tigres
must have split up—some remained in France, while others fled to London to resupply and regroup,” Finn mused aloud.

She swept a glance his way. “The wire offered no details—just enough to convince me that Eduardo had been taken hostage. He was being held for ransom.”

The tantalizing beauty had just made him come harder than he had in an eternity. No doubt the astonishingly erotic sex clouded his judgment, because he could think of no reason to doubt her story. He settled onto his back and stretched sore muscles. “How much?”

“Thirty thousand British pounds.”

He knew she had received twenty from Fabian. A member of
Los Tigres
was found floating in the Thames last week. They found the stickpin on his person—well worth the thirty thousand, if the diamond turned out to be a Tavernier.

Her breasts swayed slightly as she propped herself up on her elbows. He pried his eyes off the translucent rosy tips. “I should have realized earlier, it’s the money they’re after. They care nothing about Eduardo.” She sighed.

Even if the ransom numbers didn’t exactly add up, at least her motives were beginning to fall in place. Her disappearance, the subterfuge, the desperation in her two attempts to bargain with the mutinous thugs. If it had been Hardy, he’d have done the same. “I’m sorry, Cate.”

“Don’t be sorry. I managed to get something out of Alonso before you . . .” Her gaze darted about the grotty flat, in search of the right word.

“Made sure he never raped again?”

She met his gaze and nodded. “What was that device you used on him?”

“A garrote. Spanish in origin, I believe.”

She shivered. “On a more hopeful note, it appears Eduardo is in prison.”

Taken aback, Finn studied her. “Where? What prison?”

“Not sure.” Her brows furrowed. “Alonso spoke about a place called Devil’s Island. Have you heard of it?”

A cold chill moved down his spine. He carried papers in his bag, official-looking papers that offered a trade. He and Zeno Kennedy had cooked up the proposal. Two unnamed terrorists wanted for arms smuggling in England were trussed up in the Citadel. A few months past, Scotland Yard had captured a couple of French Red Shirts on the lam. They were being held in Her Majesty’s Prison Wormwood Scrubs. Simply put, a two-for-two exchange.

This sort of thing always seemed to kick up a bit of anxiety. Finn could feel his pulse rate increase. Anything to do with prison cells, confinement, dark dungeons—hellish holes in the ground. He inhaled a breath and exhaled out his nose—slowly. Might Cate’s brother be one of those men?

The irony was, the documents he carried could free her brother—at least temporarily. It was all part of an elaborate cover story, but the ruse might work. And if he helped her brother escape, they would all be wanted by both the French and the British, unless . . .

He turned to Cate. “I have no wish to become an expatriate, but I might be able to help you locate Eduardo.”

She sat up and flung herself upon him, flattening him
into the mattress. “You know where he is?” Her breasts pressed to his chest and she squirmed.

He wrapped an arm around her, while his free hand stroked the small of her back and her round derriere. “There is a possibility he is locked up in an old French military fortress.”

Her eyes grew wide, insistent. “Where is this place?”

Chapter Nineteen

H
onestly? She loved to look at him naked. Finn rose off the bed, placed his hands to the small of his back, and lengthened his spine. She thought him a most handsomely built man. He added a groan to the stretch. Moving to the end of the bed, he picked up her foot. One at a time, he unstrapped her ankles. He tilted his head and examined black-and-blue toenails and gnarled toes.

“Please, Finn . . .” Slightly mortified, she tried to yank her foot away, but he held on. “Dancers have ugly feet,” she said, adding a sigh.

Raising her leg in the air, he kissed her big toe. “You may have tortured feet, but you are lovely in all other parts.” He folded her leg back at the knee, and opened her legs. Cate held her breath. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her when he opened her legs. Or was it his words? “And so . . . flexible.” He leaned well over the bed and kissed the place that made her moan.

“Mm-mm.” She smiled.

With a parting lick he straightened to his full six feet, two inches. He stood before her, all broad chest, sinewy stomach, and groin. And that erection. She raised her leg
and pointed her toe. “
Élevé,
extend,
dégagé
.” She placed her foot on his dancing cock and stroked.
“Fondu, relevé, fondu.”
Her chin dipped in time with the words. “Down, up, down.”

He caught her by the leg and yanked her to the end of the bed. “And I mean to have ye again, lass.” Then he did something wonderful and rare. He smiled. Gently, she tugged her foot away. “I’ve been dishonest with you, except for the jewelry.” She sat up and rubbed her ankles.

“Confession is good for the soul. Clears the air.” He retrieved a sheaf of papers from his travel bag. “By the way, where have you hidden the rest of the jewels, Cate?” He returned to bed and she curled up beside him.

“In a safe enough place.”

He frowned as he shuffled papers. “I prefer very safe, but I suppose
safe enough
will have to do.” His free arm went around her waist and stroked softly. “Ironically, my cover for this trip has to do with a timely suspicion by Special Branch that two Spanish anarchists—likely disenfranchised members of
Los Tigres Solitarios
—are being held by the French government.”

“One of them could be Eduardo.” Cate leaned her head on his shoulder and asked an innocent question, perhaps too naive. “Why would the British government be interested in Spanish insurrectionists?”

He glanced up from the official-looking papers and stared quite pointedly, as though he were trying to assess if she was playing along. “Anarchists of all stripes supply much-needed provisions to one another. If one group has access to nitroglycerin, for example, another might have arms for trade of a different nature—rifles or ammunition. Not to mention the sharing of information, perhaps the most valuable of all their resources.”

“And this place they are holding Eduardo—you know where this prison is?”

Finn thumped the page. “See here—the Citadel of Saint-Martin is located on the Île de Ré. The island is just off La Rochelle.” His soft brown eyes turned darker. “Cate, don’t get too worked up about this. It could very well turn out to be nothing.” He swept the back of his hand against her cheek. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”

A second twinge of guilt washed over her. “I’ve been a sneak and a thief. Why would you wish to help me, Finn?”

“By following you here to La Rochelle, I was able to disrupt if not permanently disable
Los Tigres
. I’d like to finish my report to Special Branch with an accurate summary of events including the whereabouts of Eduardo de Dovia—poet laureate of
Los Tigres
.” He drew her close and kissed her softly. “But I do wonder—have you been dishonest with me about this?” His gaze was disarmingly sincere. “I want you to want me.”

“
Madre de Dios,
how can I convince you?”

“Rather difficult at this point—after so much deceit.” He kissed her again, this time deeper, and she plunged willingly into a dance of tongues.

“How do you do this to me,
cheri
?” Her heart raced with desire as his fingers probed between her legs. He turned her onto her back and hooked her leg over his shoulder. They both wanted this badly, she could hear it in their breaking voices. She opened to his cock, already hard as stone and nudging at her entrance. Their lovemaking was going to be swift and explosive this time. Her heart hammered in her chest—or was that someone was pounding on the door?