Booty Call Bonus Story
Booty Call Bonus Story: The Secret Spy Epilogue
Alison
The doorbell rings as our toddler swipes a loving smear of banana on my carefully made-up mouth.
“No, baby,” I sigh. “That lipstick was supposed to last until I got to kiss Daddy goodnight!”
Scott catches Frannie by the waist, making her shriek with joy, and whisks her to the sink as he nods his head to the stairs. “We’ll greet the sitter while you go wipe your face. And then I’m taking you out on the town for an evening of grown-up fun.”
Our hot date is a wine and cheese party at the home of the chair of my department at the university. As far as exciting nights on the town, it’s a far cry from the fancy restaurants we used to go to, or the exclusive clubs we once had access to in New York and Washington.
But it's still an adult evening out and I'm looking forward to meeting the guest of honour, Finland’s Ambassador to the United States.
I dash up to our bathroom and fix my makeup. When I return to the main floor, though, it’s not the babysitter waiting in the living room. It’s Jason Evans.
Jason works with my brother-in-law running The Horus Group, a crisis management firm with offices in Washington D.C., Seattle, and Los Angeles.
Once upon a time, Scott worked for them.
A lifetime ago.
I skid to a stop between the two men. My husband gives me a look that is halfway between I’m sorry and you know how it is, but I don’t. Not anymore. “What’s going on?”
Jason smiles grimly. “We need your help tonight.”
“We have plans,” I say, which is ridiculous. If something has happened to one of my sisters, I’ll drop everything.
But it’s not my sisters. It’s my faculty dinner, apparently. Jason stands up. “I need Scott to do something for me tonight. We understand there will be an ambassador in attendance.”
I press my lips together to keep myself from saying something rude. I need more information before I can confidently tell him to go fuck himself. “Who are we in this situation?”
“Officially, The Horus Group.”
“And unofficially?”
“That’s classified.”
“You want my husband to interfere with the privacy of a guest at my mentor’s home? A guest with diplomatic rights in this country?”
Scott has the good graces to wince.
Jason doesn’t. “Yep.”
“You better have a good reason. Or is that classified, too?” I frown at Scott. “Do you have some kind of security clearance you forgot to tell me about?”
“Not anymore.” He winks at me. And smiles. Smiles! “Jason just wants me to start a conversation. Not with the ambassador, but with her aide.”
I shake my head. “I don’t like this. We aren’t these people.”
“Which is exactly why you’re the right team for the job,” Jason says gently. “It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up.”
“Why?” I’m asking a lot with that single word. Why us, why now, why after all this time, why tonight?
Once upon a time, Jason and Cole swept into my family’s life and read us all like open books, using that information to manipulate us to the end result my parents wanted. His ability to hit me where it hurts hasn’t changed. He gives me the sternest, don’t-be-selfish look and makes it about international peace. “We could prevent a war in the South China Sea.”
I fail to see the connection to the ambassador. “Finland is a hell of a long way from there.” Then I wince, connecting the dots to Finland’s biggest neighbor. “Is this about Russia…?”
He nods. “The aide is suspected of being a double agent. If we could turn her, it would be an advantage.”
We’re almost normal people now, I want to shout. “This feels above even your paygrade.”
“Our involvement gives the government plausible deniability. We represent a company who has holdings in Taiwan and Japan.”
“So if my husband is caught trying to influence a diplomatic employee, it would only be a light case of corporate espionage?”
Scott’s jaw flexes, his eyes flashing. “This is out of the blue,” he says tightly as Frannie bats at his face with her now-clean hands. “But I won’t be caught.”
The door bell rings again. I sigh. “I guess that’s the babysitter for real this time. Could we not do this in front of a teenager?”
We don’t have to wait long to get back into the discussion. I recognize the driver of the town car waiting outside—Wilson Carter winks at me.
“Why isn’t Cole here?” I ask Jason once we’re inside the vehicle.
“Conflict of interest. He didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
I roll my eyes. Then I turn to my husband. “So, spy shit, huh?”
He slides his arm over my shoulder and tugs me close. “You won’t notice a thing.”
“I really thought the most exciting part of today would be sliding into a hot bubble bath at the end of the night,” I mutter under my breath to him. “I thought if the sitter got Frannie to bed in her own room, we might have the evening to ourselves when we got back…”
His hand tightens on my shoulder. “That’s definitely going to happen. Stay focused on that.”
“This is really no big deal to you?”
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Have you been doing spy shit this whole time?”
He laughs out loud. “No.”
“Because if you were, I would want to know.”
“You would want to participate,” he growls. “And tonight is as close as you’ll ever get to that world.”
“What if I like it?”
“Then you’ll have a fun memory to give you a charge.”
I lift my voice to talk to the men in the front of the car. “Does Hailey get to do stuff like this?”
Wilson barks a laugh. “Hell, no.”
Jason clears his throat. “Your sister has no interest in this side of the business.”
Hailey is the good sister.
I’m the one with advanced degrees in international relations. I’m practically halfway trained to be a spy already. “Why haven’t you used us before?”
“It hasn’t come up. Tonight really is just a confluence of events.” Jason shoots Scott a look in the mirror.
“What he means is, he knows I would never take my wife along while I do dangerous spy shit.”
“How dangerous could it possibly be when you glibly refer to it as spy shit?”
“It’s your term, not mine. But tonight won’t be dangerous.” He glares back at Jason. “And it’s very much a one-off event.”
The fixer hands him a lapel pin and a few business cards. “You’ve started consulting with this firm, and you’re always looking for subject matter experts to add to your international network.”
Scott nods.
I frown in confusion. “That sounds…straight up like you’re collecting spies.”
My husband shrugs, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Sometimes the truth is the best cover story.”
Well…that’s hot.
Damn.
We’re dropped off a block away, with a promise that Wilson and Jason will be around the corner all night.
“That sounds like there’s a chance we might need back up,” I say as Scott moves me to the inside of the sidewalk, putting himself between me and the curb.
“Not back up.”
“Then why didn’t they just leave?”
“That’s not how it’s done.” He takes a deep breath and stops in the middle of the block. “Speaking of which… There are some ground rules.”
“I’m all ears.”
“If I tell you to get down, that means all the way down. Flat on the ground.”
“Is that a possibility?”
“No, but just in case.”
“All the way. Pancake Ali. I can do that.”
He searches my face for a second before getting to the next rule. “And if I kiss you unexpectedly, you have to be all in. Tongue, moaning. It’s important cover.”
I push at his chest and he grabs my wrist as I laugh at him.
His eyes glitter. “Deadly serious.”
I kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’ll pretend to be a drunken whore for cover should the need arise.”
“It really does work.”
I give my husband of almost eight years an arch look. “And how would you know?”
“From my previous career of doing this in more dangerous parts of the world than San Francisco, at a time when you were too young to kiss me,” he growls.
I have always teased my husband about the age difference between us. Now that I’m pregnant with our second child, it hardly seems that big a deal anymore.
But once upon a time, it made him squirm, and that still makes me squirm, and we both enjoy that.
“Sorry to spoil all your fun with a life of domesticity.”
“You aren’t sorry at all,” he says, kissing me back. “But in all seriousness, this is going to be the most boring spy shit you can ever imagine. You won’t even notice it happening.”
The worst part is that he’s right.
We climb the stairs, knock on the door, and I’m immediately swept into a professional conversation. Scott stays by my side the whole time, except for when I’m introduced to the Ambassador, and I would honestly say that he’s talking to one of the faculty members that whole time.
Except…
The aide isn’t anywhere to be seen.
And then Scott appears at my side, handing me a glass of cranberry juice. It feels like code, it’s done, but I have no idea how it happened.
For the rest of the evening, the aide is always as far away from Scott as possible.
I keep all my questions to myself until we’re safely home and the babysitter has headed back across the street.
But once Scott runs me a bath in our beloved tub, he rolls up his shirt sleeves and pulls up a stool beside me. “Okay, ask all the questions rolling around in your head.”
“I thought spy shit would be more exciting.”
“When it’s exciting, that’s when it’s going badly.” He snags a washcloth from a little whicker basket on the nearest shelf. “Lean forward so I can wash your back.”
I curl up into a soapy ball. “How did it feel?”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“I didn’t like them showing up on our doorstep.”
“Same.”
He exhales. “I want to say it won’t ever happen again, but your career is very inviting to them. It’s an intersection of interests that is likely to haunt us forever.”
“What about the conversation you had? I didn’t even realize you’d gone until you were back. How did that part feel?”
His strokes up and down my back don’t stop, but his voice, when he speaks again, has a new, rougher note. “Like riding a bike.”
He liked it.
I inhale a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“Did you ever play Operation as a kid?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so, but I know what it is.”
He chuckles. “I’ll have to order it for you and Frannie, then. Initiating a conversation with a potential asset is a lot like that.” He eases me back, sliding the wash cloth over my shoulder. It falls into the water as he lightly cups my breast in his bare hand. “Do it just right, or you’ll touch a live wire. And knowing that danger is all around you, but if you just keep calm, you’re going to be fine—it’s a heady power.”
I always think my husband is sexy.
But having him explain the appeal of international espionage as he draws circles around my nipple with his thumb is possibly the sexiest thing he’s ever done.
His gaze is dark and so steady it takes my breath away.
I arch my back, my head lolling against the tub as I push my body into his touch. His hand curves over my hard little belly, our secret for a few more weeks. Rocking my hips, I encourage his fingers to drift lower and find my bare pussy.
This is my heady power.
He presses his mouth to the side of my head and exhales roughly as his fingertips find my clit. “Fucking love you more than anything,” he whispers. “More than any thrill.”
“You can love me and be a part-time spy, I suppose.”
He smiles against my temple. “We’ll keep discussing.”
“If spy shit makes you this attentive…” I gasp as his fingers push lower still, right to my entrance.
Even in the water, I know he can feel how slick I am for him. How eager.
“I’m always this attentive.”
That’s true.
But he says it with a quiet reverence, like a promise that no matter what, he always will be, too.
I twist toward him, pushing up on my knees. His hand curves under me, his fingers spearing up into my pussy as I clutch at the front of his shirt and kiss him hungrily.
“Get in the tub with me,” I pant.
“Or…” he blindly grabs for the shower wand. “I could steal you away to bed and lick this sweet cunt until you scream.”
Also a very good plan.
In between hungry, desperate kisses, he rinses me off, then hauls me out of the tub and into an oversized towel.
He scoops me into his arms and carries me to our bed. He dries off my arms, then my breasts, and finally my belly and my legs.
“I need you inside me,” I breathe.
“Soon.” He spreads my legs and ducks his head, his breath warm against my needy slit. I moan and arch my back, my hands going to my aching breasts, pinching and pulling my nipples the same way he was in the tub.
“That’s my girl, that’s my slutty girl,” he mumbles between licks. “Fuck yeah. Show me where you need my cock, wife.”
I moan out loud and spread my legs wider, giving him deeper access to my pussy.
“Here?” His breath is hot and penetrating as he licks into my entrance. “Where you’re fucking soaked?”
I sob and nod. He spears his tongue deep, then slides up to my clit and latches on.
Shaking, I grind against him, using the hot suction of his mouth, until the looming orgasm explodes into a brilliant release.
Immediately he’s on top of me, his lips and tongue finding mine. Fucking my mouth the same way he’s going to fuck my body, with fast, rough desperation. But his hands are so gentle, so careful as he shifts my body beneath him.
Always in control, even when I’m pushing those buttons we both love so much.
My quietly capable, dangerous husband.
I squeeze my pussy around him and dig my heels into his back.
“Fuck.”
Grinning, I moan again, this time a little more intentionally.
“Ali.” He plants his hands on either side of me and drives himself deeper. “You’re going to milk me, God damn it.”
“I know.” My own voice is shaky, I’m not unaffected.
But we’re playing a game now. Spy vs. Spy, Mayfair Home Edition.
He hitches my knee up, curling his arm beneath my leg so he can thrust against my G-spot from a different angle. “You first.”
“Together.” I’m so close. I don’t know if I can drag him over with me. But I’m going to try.
“Don’t you dare make me come before you.”
“If you come, I’ll come, too,” I promise.
His hips jerk and he falls forward, groaning into my neck. His breath is hot, coming fast now, as he growls dirty talk directly against my skin. “Feel how thick you make me? Gonna be bigger in a second as I explode in your hot, perfect cunt.”
I squirm and writhe against him, feeling exactly that heaviness, that big, hard intrusion.
He huffs a laugh and braces himself again, pushing up. “Already put a baby in you, you brat, stop trying so hard.”
Damn it. The spymaster wins.
His gaze is dark and gleaming as he regains control of his release. He holds it back as he sets a new rhythm inside me, one that pushes me straight to the edge of control, to the point of everything going fuzzy and soft-filtered.
And then his hand drags over my belly and down to my clit, and I’m caught in the most delicious pleasure trap ever set.
He buries himself deep as I climax around him, every cell in my body shaking with a burst of electric energy. His hands tighten on my thighs and his head tips up, groaning his well earned follow-on release.
I blink, bringing him back into focus.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He grins and looks down at me. “Love you, more.”
“Love you forever.”
“And ever, ever.”
Unless he’s caught by the spy police.
He exhales happily and pulls out. “Never getting caught, babe.”
“How did you…”
He winks and leans in to kiss me. “Spy shit. Now hold still while I grab a wash cloth, you cum-filled hussy.”