Leather & Lace: Trident Security Book 1 (25 page)

"Don't forget, Pet. You're not to cum without permission."

"Y-yes, Sir. Oh God!"

Her thighs quivered and her hips jerked upward when he flicked her still hidden clit. But that was about to change. He lowered her legs as he climbed back off the bed. Grabbing one ankle and then the other, he restrained them until she was spread wide open, her pussy exposed for what he planned for her next. Stepping into his bathroom, he hastily washed his hands before returning to her side and grabbing his next torture implement.

The flogger was made of soft black leather with a knot tied at the end of each of the dozen strands extending out from its handle. Starting at her right foot, he dragged the ends up to her shoulders then back down again on her opposite side, her eyes tracking them every inch of the way. He repeated the entire process, once then twice, teasing her until her breathing was short and heavy and her hips began to shift in impatience. "Don't lose the plug, Pet."

His mouth turned up at the corners when he saw her clench the muscles in her butt, which in turn sent tiny shock waves through the nerves being affected by the foreign object. The sensations caused her to groan and she began, once again, to beg him for relief. "Beg all you want, sweetheart, but I'll continue at my own pace. You won't get what you want until I'm good and ready to give it to you."

Returning to her right foot, he began to lift the strands off her skin and then let them fall back down softly. After another full rotation around her body, he would start over and make the contact a little harder each time. When the thudding increased to the point her skin began to turn a pale red, he concentrated on her thighs, hips and breasts only. He'd near her crotch but not close enough for the contact she didn't even know she was pleading for. He flicked his wrist hard and the knotted strands connected with her clit and pussy lips. She shrieked as the pleasure-pain shot through her and her empty vagina clenched in search of something to hold on to. Devon repeated the strike again and again until she was alternating her screams between his name, curses and pleas for mercy. Her wrists were straining against their leather and fur manacles to no avail. When he finally tossed the flogger to the floor, she was so close to her orgasm it would've crashed over her if he struck her clit one more time and he gave her a few moments to come back from the brink of ecstasy.

Grabbing the clamp, he positioned himself between her legs once more. Her little pearl was no longer in hiding and he was able to attach the clamp without any further coaxing. Kristen was so far into all the different sensations running rampant through her body, he didn't think her brain even registered the clamp. The small weighted stones were attached by a thin piece of fishing line to the rubber coated ends. It was designed so they would hang down, pulling on the little nub. For now though, they would be in the way, so he rested them along the crease of her hip.

Reaching down, he undid the restraints around her ankles and once again, bent her knees up toward her chest. Kneeling at her sopping wet entrance, he lined up his uncovered cock and plunged into her with one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt without pause, despite the huge plug in her ass. Her walls cinched around him and he saw stars. "Oh fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good, like silk." She jerked her hips trying to get him to move but he stilled her with his hands. "No, Pet. Give me a second or it'll all be over too soon. Fuck, I've never felt anything like this before. You're my heaven and hell all wrapped into one incredibly tight, hot package."

"Oh, please Sir, oh God, Sir please...I need...I need..." Devon loved how the word 'sir' was so natural to her now. It flowed from her mouth without thought whenever he had her aroused to the point of mindless pleading.

When he thought he could move without exploding, he dragged his dick from her passage only to stroke right back inside again. He punctuated his words in time with his tortuously short, slow thrusts. "I know exactly what you need, my love, and I'm going to give it to you right now."

He sped up and found a rhythm which had her hurtling toward the most powerful release she'd ever experienced. When she reached the edge, he abruptly released the clamp from her clit, allowing the blood to rush back in and she screamed her throat raw as she plummeted into a vast chasm. Wave after wave of pleasure-pain crashed over her as she pulsated around him. It was only two thrusts later when he followed her, shooting his seed deep into her womb and extending her orgasm, convinced he would never recover from the impact.

After removing her wrist restraints, it'd taken Devon longer than ever to recuperate from their explosive lovemaking the night before. When he could get off the bed and stand without falling, he stumbled to the bathroom and retrieved a wet cloth to clean Kristen with. His sweet Ninja-girl had fallen asleep immediately after he removed her plug and settled her on her side so he could spoon her from behind and hold her in his arms for the rest of the night.

Now, the sun was up and it was seven forty-five and he had fifteen minutes before he needed to meet everyone down at the conference room to find the name of the person who wanted some of them dead. He had showered, put on a comfortable pair of his tan military DSUs, otherwise known as tactical pants, a navy blue t-shirt and his light-weight black combat boots and was now sitting on the edge of the bed next to a still sleeping Kristen. She deserved the rest after he'd wakened her around three a.m. to take first her mouth and then her pussy once again. As much as he wanted to take her sweet ass, he'd refrained from doing so last night because they both would've been too exhausted for the bath she would need right afterward to prevent extreme soreness this morning.

With a light touch, he was playing with her hair and staring at her face when his eyes dropped to the simple black leather band still around her neck. It wasn't good enough for her and in his mind, he began designing a permanent collar he wanted her to wear. Permanent? Holy crap! Yeah, it was pretty much official. Devon Sawyer's confirmed bachelor days were over...permanently. He'd found his true love, his perfect submissive and yet his equal. She was the woman who he'd never known existed and now wanted to spend the rest of his life with. First, he would collar her in a ceremony at the club and then, when she was ready, he would also put a ring on her finger. In all honesty, while the ring would make their union legal, it was the collar which would mean the most to Devon. It would be a symbol of Kristen's ultimate trust in her Dom to cherish her in every possible way–mind, body and soul; to keep her safe from harm, to pamper her silly and most of all, to love her every day of their, hopefully, very long lives.

But for now, his team needed to find the person responsible for the murders of four members of Team Four's family and as soon as possible, before anyone else was hurt, or God-forbid, killed. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he left her sleeping and headed out to the office.

As promised the NCIS agents brought bagels and egg sandwiches for everyone. As they ate their handheld breakfasts and coffee, they dove back into the daunting task before them. Thankfully, Paula was heeding the orders and advice Ian had given her in private on Friday, and was back to being an efficient office manager and interruptions were at a minimum.

It was a few minutes after ten a.m. when Devon was looking through a stack of about one-hundred and twenty 8 by 10 photos he'd taken the night of the gala in Rio de Janeiro when he was keeping an eye on Ernesto Diaz. There had been over five hundred people in attendance at the biggest hotel in the city, so Devon tried to get a photo of everyone Diaz had made contact with. At one point, the drug lord had disappeared into a small sitting room down the hall from the main ballroom. Devon had waited a few moments before following, pretending he was looking for his lost date for the evening.

He'd barely managed to get three quick yet hazy photographs of Diaz in the room using a hidden camera in a pair of false eyeglasses–a little James Bond-like but quite effective. The pictures he took were from the hallway looking past the partially open door into the room before Diaz's bodyguards interfered and ordered him to return to the ballroom or risk bodily harm. With no other choice, he was escorted back down the hallway and was pissed he couldn't get pictures of the person or persons Diaz was meeting without jeopardizing his cover. And it was unlikely their spy-friend would know who Diaz met since the Colombian hadn't been Carter's target while he was there.

Devon finished inspecting the clearest picture out of the three and was about to move on to another photo when he realized there was a reflection in a medium-sized mirror on the wall behind Diaz. "Hey, Egghead, can you do something with this?" He held up the photo with his finger pointing to the mirror for Brody to see.

The geek squinted at what his teammate was referring to then jumped up out of his chair and headed for the door. "Yeah, I should be able to enlarge it and clean it up some. Let me grab my scanner from the war-room."

The war-room was the extra-large office Brody used which housed his many computers, multiple HD screens, servers and assorted gadgets. The team was convinced, if he needed to, Egghead could launch a space shuttle from the room. It was also one of the places in the office which Paula didn't have access to and the man took great pleasure in knowing it drove the office manager crazy with curiosity.

A few minutes later, Brody had the picture scanned into his laptop and the photo appeared on the big screen on the wall of the conference room. He was playing around with an image enhancing program and the person in the mirror became larger and clearer, yet he still seemed a little fuzzy to everyone...well, everyone except for Brody. "Son of a fucking bitch! You've got to be kidding me!"

Everyone stared at the stunned and irate man as if he had two heads. Ian asked, "You know who it is?"

The geek stared back at everyone. "You don't?"

When they all shook their heads, Brody opened his mouth to say something but then quickly shut it again and took the photo off of the big screen before looking at Ian with obvious worry in his eyes. Having trained and worked with him for a long time, his boss understood the man's hesitation. Turning to the two NCIS agents, he said, "I know you two have a certain level of security clearance but I get the feeling we've stumbled across something which could possibly jeopardize your careers or lives and those of your families if it becomes known you have this information. You have two options–take the risk or step outside for a moment. I swear to you, no evidence will be removed or erased from this room."

The two agents eyeballed each other and it was obvious after a moment they'd made their decision. As they both stood, Barbara Chan said to her partner, "I think I left my cell phone in the car, do you mind helping me look for it?"

Dobrowski nodded and turned toward the conference room door. "Sure, it'll probably take five minutes to find it."

The moment the door shut behind them, Brody brought the image back up on the large monitor and began typing away at his computer again. The large screen split in two and a photo, courtesy of CNN, appeared to the right of the enhanced photo Devon had taken. The rest of the team stared at the two images in utter disbelief. The man was a little younger and leaner in the five-year old photo and had a trim mustache and goatee but, without a doubt, he was the same man in the news photo–Senator Luis Beltram from Brody's hometown of Dallas, Texas. And if the rumors were true, the next Democratic candidate for President of the United States. Holy fucking shit!

Hailed as the first ever Hispanic-American candidate for the Oval Office, Beltram had been elected to the Senate seat for his state a little over two years ago and fast-tracked through the Democratic Party. The lawyer turned politician had been born and raised in Texas, lost his working-class single mother to cancer as a teenager and somehow managed to finish high school and put himself first through college and then business law school. He'd chosen his battles and political platforms with care and was well-like by his constituents, fellow democrats and even a few republicans. An announcement of his candidacy was expected by the press within the next week or so, but the evidence currently in the Trident Security conference room would end the man's political career faster than a jackrabbit on amphetamines.

The knowledge of the Senator having a private meeting with a Colombian drug lord who not only ran one of the largest drug cartels in South America, but also a sex-slave business, would not go over well with the American public. The fact Diaz also supplied weapons to terrorists who were determined to undermine the American way of life would be the final nail in Beltram's coffin. The team was sitting on political dynamite.

Ian grabbed his cell phone and contacted Keon to give the man one of the biggest shocks of his life. "We've got him and it's not good."

There was a short pause on the other end of the line. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

* * *

By the time Keon walked into the room eighteen minutes later, the two agents had returned and the large monitor was once again blank. No one said the senator's name in front of the agents because for the rest of the investigation, the less they knew, the better off they were. Brody hacked into numerous systems and managed to locate the tenuous connection between Beltram and Diaz, who'd also been born in Texas before his family moved back to Colombia when he was six. Beltram's illegitimate father had been a cousin of Ernesto Diaz's mother making the two men second cousins. Luciano Esperanza had been a longtime associate of the Diaz cartel and was a name the team had recognized. He'd died of cancer about seven months after his cousin.

When the future lawyer was in college, Beltram had the paternal information on his birth certificate, which was on file with the Texas State Department of Health, changed from his sperm donor's name to 'no information available'. Unfortunately for the senator, he didn't know or forgot the original copy stayed on file with the new certificate, which is how Brody located the information.

Keon sat down and sighed. "Tell me."

Ian nodded at Dobrowski and Chan, who once again left the room. This time, with the Deputy Director of the FBI present to keep an eye on the boxes of classified information, there was no need for subterfuge. Ian then glanced at Brody who hit a button on his laptop bringing up the two photos again.

Usually a passive man, the team had never seen Keon pale in obvious disbelief before, but it's exactly what they saw now. However, it only took him a few seconds to recover from his shock. "Holy shit," he mumbled before clearing this throat. "Is Carter still here?"

Ian shook his head. "No, he was gone when everyone got up this morning. One of the guards said he pulled out around oh-five-hundred."

* * *

Three nights later, the man known by one name picked the lock to the back door of the comfortable bi-level home on the outskirts of Dallas. He was inside within twenty seconds, and with his gloved hands, pulled out his weapon. The two men from the target's private protective detail had been eliminated by a drug-induced slumber and were hidden behind some shrubbery on the four-acre property. The burglar alarm and back-up systems had been interrupted with a quick flick of a Swiss army knife, rendering it useless. The target's wife and college-age children were not at home and it was amazing how easy it was to get close to someone who thought he was invincible.

Having thought he was safely ensconced inside his house with the alarm set, Senator Luis Beltram was relaxing in his home office, sipping a glass of amber liquid from an eight-hundred dollar bottle of Macallan scotch. His grey suit jacket and tie were laid over the back of one of the two guest chairs opposite the desk at which he sat. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. This was the last night he'd be alone before the Secret Service took over his protective detail when his presidential nomination was announced tomorrow afternoon. The press would then start camping out at the end of his driveway. He smiled to himself, enjoying the silence which permeated the five-bedroom ranch. At least he did until the door to his office swung open without a sound and he found himself staring down the barrel of a SIG Sauer P226, complete with silencer. Beltram froze at the sight before putting his drink down and easing his hand toward his desk drawer.

"Come on, now. I know you don't have any morals but you're not exactly stupid. After all, you've come this close to being the next American president." Carter took three careful steps into the room, knowing full well the senator had a handgun in the drawer he was reaching for. The spy wasn't worried though because the arrogant bastard would be dead before his fingers ever touched the brass pull-handle.

Without any abrupt movements, Beltram brought his hand back and placed it next to his other one on the wood surface of his desk in full view of his unwelcome visitor. Sweat was forming on his brow and upper lip and his skin was paler than it had been a few minutes ago, yet those were the only signs of the man's fear. His eyes barely blinked. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Carter's mouth ticked up into a smirk. "Who I am is not important. What I want, however, is something altogether different. I want to save this great nation I live in from having a traitorous scumbag like you as its president. I want to avenge the deaths of three Navy SEALs and one very nice lady who didn't deserve to die when and how they did. But first, I'm curious. Why were they killed in the first place? Payback for killing Ernesto Diaz? How did you find out Team Four was responsible for your cousin's death?"

If the man was shocked to hear Carter knew of his familial connection to the Colombian drug lord, he didn't show it. In fact, the smug fucker snorted, picked up his glass of scotch again and eased back into his black leather chair. In the process, he pressed his knee to the inside panel of his desk and hit the silent panic button there. The movement didn't go unnoticed by the man with the gun. He now had less than ten minutes to finish the job and escape without being discovered at the scene of an assassination. The senator was crazy if he thought he had a way out of this.