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  I Spy a Naughty Game

  ( Shado Agency - 2 )

  Jo Davis

  A tantalizing tale of erotic suspense in which a mask slips-and everything is revealed… Blaze Kelly, one of the Secret Homeland Defense Organization's top spies, is a powerful D/S master, and all raw male. Yet underneath his mask hides a wounded soul that aches for love. Emma Foster wears disguises too as part of her job for SHADO. But she's not excited about her next mission-with the man who broke her heart. Together they must infiltrate a group that plans to transfer a weapon of mass destruction into enemy hands-a mission that involves them in an illicit sexual game. As they are forced to explore their most dangerous desires, they face a challenge that could break even the steeliest of spies…

  Jo Davis. I Spy a Naughty Game

  To Roberta Brown, my fabulous agent, cheerleader, and friend. You were the first industry professional who truly believed, who said to me not just “You can,” but “You will!”… and then helped me make it happen. Your faith, hard work, and positive attitude continue to make all the difference to me. Here’s to many more years of toasting our success together.

  Acknowledgments

  As always, thank you to my husband and wonderful teenagers for your support and understanding when I spend way too many hours in front of the computer. I’m not playing Minesweeper — I swear!

  Thank you to my fabulous editor, Tracy Bernstein, for being my biggest fan and mentor. You keep this train on the track, and I’m forever grateful.

  And always to my Foxes, without whom life would be very lonely and dull indeed. I love you guys.

  One

  Blaze Kelly wound through the press of writhing, sweaty bodies. A sea of weekend players wearing enough fucking leather to upholster a fleet of ’57 Chevys. The smarter ones were barely dressed at all — less to peel off when the mercury shot out of control.

  Some were on their knees, eagerly fulfilling the desires of their masters or mistresses. A few of those masters wielded floggers or belts, the slap on supple flesh rewarded by groans of pleasure.

  A few sipped drinks at their tables and engaged in lively conversation with other Doms — or Dommes, if female — completely ignoring the devoted slaves kneeling at their feet, as was their right.

  Every single one craved the rigid structure of the lifestyle, the rules that dictated every nuance of existence here, and Domination /submission was only a part of that structure. All were here to escape, just for a blessed slice of time, the stark reality that overwhelmed their world outside these safe walls.

  Like me.

  This place made sense when the rest of his personal life had gone to hell and burned. He hadn’t been able to get here fast enough, was desperate to find his center again. To reach for the calm and certainty, the inner power, that made him a master, caused a willing sub to tremble under his touch.

  Then he’d lose himself, connect with one who understood him as much as she understood herself. Or himself. Male or female — the sub’s physical form hardly mattered.

  And he’d forget all about his heart, left broken and bleeding at Emma’s feet. He would.

  “I can’t do this, Blaze. I don’t belong in your world, and you’d never be satisfied in mine.”

  She was wrong about the first point, just too afraid to venture past her boundaries. And she was painfully correct about the second.

  “It’s who I am. Please, baby, give me — us — a chance.”

  “No, it’s not who you are! It’s just a perverted game, and if we meant that much, you could walk away!”

  “You’d ask that of me? To give up a part of my soul?”

  “Hell, yes! You asked me to compromise mine!”

  Impasse. Such a formidable, incredible woman, yet her fear of the unknown and the misunderstood was a twenty-foot steel wall between them.

  And in the end she’d stormed out of his house, tossed him aside like a bag of garbage. At least he hadn’t broken down, not in front of her and not in the couple of days since.

  No, the tears were locked on the inside. Always. Like razor blades scoring his gut.

  Blaze mentally shook himself and vowed to move on. This was his world, and he’d be fucked sideways if he’d let any woman castrate him. In the corner, he spotted Ryan and his new sub-in-training, Caitlin, just the couple he needed to help him accomplish his goal. Spotting Blaze, Ryan waved him over with a grin.

  “My man! What’s up?” Ryan clapped him on the back, gave him a once-over. “Shit, you look like somebody died, my friend.”

  “Close enough. Good to see you, Ry.” His greeting lacked his usual outgoing, drunk-on-life verve, and his normally easy smile fell short of the mark. Damn.

  “Care to talk about it?” His friend flicked a glance to the stunning brunette kneeling at his feet. “In private?”

  “Nope. I’m here for less talk and more action, like the song says.”

  Ryan brightened, taking the reins. “That’s my boy. And lucky you — I’ve got just the right medicine.” Lovingly, he stroked his slave’s hair, his gaze betraying the depth of his feelings for her. Devotion she couldn’t see because her eyes were fixed on the floor in deference to her master.

  “Caitlin’s training is progressing nicely, and I think she’s ready to take two Doms… if you’re willing to help me push her to the next level.”

  Blaze studied the woman, a Bond girl look-alike if he’d ever seen one, typical of Ryan’s taste. Long tousled dark hair, a rack worthy of a Penthouse model, legs like a goddess. Too showy, not his preferred type.

  But he appreciated beauty, and no one could argue that Ry’s sub wasn’t a looker. She was also excited, if the hitch in her breathing and the tightening of her rosy nipples peeking over the leather halfbra were any indication. Responsive, ready to please her master.

  “Not that kind of action. I’m not in the mood to play tonight, Ry. I just needed to get out, be among people. Maybe have a drink and watch a scene.”

  Blaze’s cock came slowly to life, lengthening in his leather pants, making a big liar out of him.

  “Bullshit,” Ryan scoffed. “You’re not a languish-on-the-sidelines kind of guy. What gives? It’s that chick you’ve been seeing. Emma, right?”

  “Let’s drop it.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes, ignoring the warning in his voice. “I knew it. Damn, for a woman who’s got the butch vibe down to perfection, Emma’s so vanilla, she makes my sainted granny seem like a ten-dollar hooker. What do you see in her?”

  “You’ve only met Emma once, so your conclusions are hardly accurate or fair. Not another word about her, my friend, or you’ll be eating soup through a straw for the next six weeks.”

  “And you’ll smile cheerfully while bashing in my face,” Ryan said, unfazed. “You’re a crazy sonofabitch, you know that?”

  “So I’ve heard.” This was Ry’s way of backing off the subject, and Blaze began to relax.

  “Then there’s no reason for you to sit here like a whipped puppy. Come on.” His friend scooted out from behind the table and tapped his sub’s shoulder.

  “Where to?” Blaze asked.

  “Do you really have to ask?”

  He supposed not. His blood fired as he rose and accompanied Ryan to the back, down a hallway to one of the private rooms used for scenes, the sub following close behind. Once they were inside, he closed the door and removed his jacket, draped it over the back of a nearby chair, and waited. This was Ryan’s show.

  His friend wasted no time in preparing her. “Remove your clothes.”

  Shooting Blaze a nervous glance, she did, starting with the tiny leather bra. She unhooked the garment, slid it off her shoulders, and allowed the scrap to fall to the floor. Her breasts were ful
l and high, a bit too perfectly symmetrical. Perhaps surgically enhanced, Blaze mused, but nice.

  Her skirt went next, revealing nothing underneath but toned bare skin. The patch between her thighs was trimmed into a neat triangle, and Blaze could only imagine the soft, wet heat at its center. His cock surged, demanding to know for certain. She stood still, eyes downcast, theirs for the taking.

  Ryan moved behind her, ran his palms up her sides to her breasts. Pinched and rolled her nipples, evoking a gasp from his lovely sub. “Spread your legs, my love.”

  As she complied, her master slid one hand down her flat stomach to the dark triangle. Parted her pussy lips and delved his fingers into her, caressing. “So hot and wet for me and Blaze, aren’t you, pet?”

  “Yes, master,” she agreed in a husky voice, leaning back into Ryan.

  “You’re going to do as I say, and as a reward, we’ll make you fly. Understand?”

  “Oh, yes, sir!” She opened for him a bit more, melting in his hands.

  “Very good.” Ryan reached into the front pocket of his black dress shirt and removed a pair of nipple clamps on a delicate silver chain. “Need a little pain, baby?”

  “Please, master.”

  The poor woman was nearly insensate with need as Ryan clamped one pert nipple, then the other. He gave the chain a tug, clearly pleased at her tortured moan. His lips curved upward in a smile as he looked at Blaze.

  “Would you like to taste her, my friend?”

  “God, yes.”

  The beautiful sub wasn’t the only one needing. Blaze stalked her, hungry. His troubles were forgotten for the moment, his desires demanding to be fed. He knelt between her legs and nuzzled her neat bush, tested the mound hiding beneath with his tongue, and was pleased to find her pussy bare. Slick and damp.

  Whimpering, she widened her stance even more as he licked her slit. Burrowed his tongue between her pussy lips and tasted her essence. He ate her, barely aware of Ryan ordering her not to come until he gave her permission. Lord, she was sweet, so sensitive that he didn’t want to stop.

  But he finally drew away, not wanting to push her over the edge and cause her to be punished. “Delicious,” he praised, kissing her hip. He rose to his feet to see that Ryan had already undressed while he’d been occupied with tasting Caitlin.

  Blaze followed suit, quickly shedding his clothing while his friend grabbed a spreader bar from a nearby table.

  “On your knees,” Ryan commanded her.

  She knelt and Ryan went to work, spreading her legs and fastening cuffs at each end to her ankles. Next, he secured her wrists behind her back with a pair of padded handcuffs and positioned himself behind her, hands on her ass.

  “Is the butt plug driving you insane, pretty baby?” Ryan asked.

  “Yes, master,” she whined, wiggling her bottom in search of relief. So needy.

  “Excellent. I’m going to torment you, pump it in and out of your tight ass while you suck our friend. And no coming,” he warned.

  “No, sir, I won’t!”

  Ryan nodded at Blaze, who didn’t need to be invited twice. Blaze stepped up to the bound sub and brought the head of his leaking cock to her lips. She gave the mushroom tip an experimental lick, swiping away the pearly bead. Then she swooped in, bathing his turgid, heated flesh with her clever tongue.

  “Fuck yes,” he groaned. “Suck me, darlin’.”

  She deep-throated him like a pro. Sucking in a sharp breath, he buried a hand in her silky dark hair, fucked her mouth at his leisure. Slow and deep, down her throat. She wasn’t Emma — no woman could ever match her — but she was good, and he shoved his pain aside. Lost himself in pleasure, his balls tightening. She moaned around him, making his cock hum, and he noted Ryan’s arm moving behind her in tandem with their motions. Tormenting his sub with the plug as promised.

  Ryan’s eyes glittered with lust. “That’s it, pet. Suck him. Take him deep while I fuck you hard.” He removed the plug, laid it aside, and positioned his cock between her cheeks.

  Blaze nearly exploded as he watched his friend’s thick erection disappear, muscles standing out in relief as he took possession of her body. It was difficult, but he managed to stave off his orgasm as he thrust faster. Fucked her mouth vigorously, but not hard enough to cause her injury.

  They found a rhythm, moved smoothly together, groans and the slap of slick flesh proving a decadent sound track. Pressure built in his balls and desire spiraled higher, his need to come almost unbearable.

  Ryan drove into her without mercy, fingers digging into her hips. “Shit, I’m close! Not gonna last!”

  “Me, either,” Blaze gasped. “Almost there.”

  “Fuck, yes!” Ryan thrust twice more, burying himself deep on the second stroke, throwing his head back.

  Blaze quickly disengaged from the sub’s mouth and took himself in hand, just in time to keep from coming in her mouth. He wanted to see her bathed in his juices. She tilted her chin up as his cock erupted, shooting ropes of creamy cum all over her face. She lapped eagerly between cries of ecstasy, catching what she could with her tongue as though he was gifting her with the best possible treat.

  Blaze cupped one cheek, emptying his balls to the last drop. “God, yes. So good, darlin’. So pretty.”

  Ryan slumped, breath sawing in and out of his lungs as he trailed a hand down her spine. “I’m one lucky bastard, huh?”

  “Oh, my God.”

  The unexpected new voice drew his gaze to the doorway.

  The shattered expression on Emma’s face, the hurt in her blue eyes blasted a hole in his heart.

  Emma recovered first, her generous mouth twisting into a snarl. Pure hatred burned into his soul. “You motherfucking bastard.”

  “Emma, this is—”

  “And to think I came here absolutely sure you missed me as much as I missed you,” she hissed, rage barely contained. “I was ready to at least try to be the woman you wanted. I was willing to make an effort to understand and fit into your world. Well, I can see now just how overcome with grief you really are.”

  Bile rose in his throat. “Baby, please—”

  “Save it, asshole.” Barking a bitter laugh, she tunneled her fingers through her short white-blond hair, and then pointed at his chest, punctuating each word with a jab. “You. Go. To. Hell.”

  With that, she spun and left him.

  This time for good.

  Two

  Seven months later

  “Why do I have to be a homeless woman? Why not a guy? All this crap is hot, too.”

  “Shut up, Ozzie.” Emma Foster raised her subject’s chin, peering into his face as she applied his makeup, adding contours to the wrinkles she’d sculpted around his mouth. “Your whining is making my ears bleed.”

  Agent Dean Osborne scowled, which would’ve been an adorable expression on her friend’s handsome mug if he hadn’t been tricked out like a sixty-year-old bag lady. Hard to say what irritated him more: his current situation or the unwanted nickname his friends had given him that called to mind an aging rock star.

  “Dammit, Emma, you’re doing this just to spite me. Do you have to be such a bitch?”

  “That’s Agent Bitch to you. Stop squirming.”

  “This sucks.”

  “You’re getting paid. Deal with it.”

  More foundation? More color in the cheeks? No, a bag lady would appear more washed out, not glowing with health.

  “Not nearly enough,” he grumbled. Soulful brown eyes glared at her in reproach. “I’m asking Michael for a raise.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  Michael Ross, fearless leader of the Secret Homeland Defense Organization, or SHADO, was generous to a fault. But he’d only recently returned to the helm after being in seclusion, grieving for his dead wife, Maggie. For the past few days, he’d been dealing with something big. Whispers of a traitor in their midst were spreading like wildfire, but only a select few agents knew exactly what was going on. One of those agents being
her ex-lover, Blaze Kelly. The bastard.

  The sexy, slightly crazy, unrepentant glorious bastard.

  Emma backed up and surveyed Ozzie’s scraggly wig with a critical eye, determined to put Blaze out of her thoughts. She had too much work to do to spend precious time thinking about that horny, self-centered jerk. Yeah, her heart had been broken into about a zillion pieces, and guess what, folks? The earth hadn’t fallen off its axis as a result. She still had to get up and face each day. One more day without Blaze in her life.

  Her work was all that gave her joy anymore.

  “Am I set?”

  She smiled at the note of hope in his voice. “Almost. I’m going to fix you up with a cool new toy.”

  His eyebrows rose and he gave her a suggestive grin, apparently forgetting about his fake rotten teeth. “Oh, goody.”

  “Not that kind of toy, Romeo.”

  “Drat.”

  “Something even better.” Digging around on her table, she found the item she was searching for and held it up with a flourish. “You’re going to wear this!”

  He looked less than enthused. “A cheap stickpin with a fake daisy glued to it? And this trinket of granny bling is exciting… why?”

  “Because, moron, in the black center of the flower, undetectable to the naked eye, is one of our new pinhole cameras.” The agent’s bored resignation morphed to real awe, and she felt a surge of pride.

  “No shit? Let me see!”

  She handed over the device, grinning as he examined it from every angle like a little kid. If anything could get a jaded agent pumped, it was a new gadget.

  “Cool, huh?”

  “Sweet.” He squinted into the flower’s center as though it held an intriguing secret — which it did. “You can hide these cameras just about anywhere, right?”

  “Yep. In clothing or almost any object you can think of. These puppies have a broad scope, so they’ll see whatever you do if placed correctly. I’m not an expert on the technical aspects of the devices, though,” she reminded him, “so I’ll send you down the hall to those guys if you have any questions.”