Page 28 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

Her head tips back, and a sob tears out of her as her walls clamp down.

She comes, and I pound into her harder.

My abs constrict with each movement, and sweat starts to bead on my back. My head throbs now from the alcohol leaving my system. I just fuck through it. I come so hard my entire body tenses, and my vision is spotted with black.

Lee stills and lets me pour my load into her.

When I’m finished, I roll us to the side but keep my semihard length inside of her.

“Elliot,” she rasps, voice wrecked. “We can’t… this can’t happen again. It was a one-time thing. A stupid, reckless⁠—”

I cut her off with a dark laugh even I don’t recognize.

“This was never a one-time thing.”

“It has to be. We’re partners.”

“Exactly. We work together. We aren’t fucking related. Don’t say it like that. We aren’t something bad.”

But we are exactly that. Bad.

She thinks we’re just two agents who crossed a line after too many drinks and too much flirting. The thought sits heavy in my gut.

She has no idea the man who’s been inside her four times tonight is the one who’s been feeding intel to the task force. Or that I’ve hidden a camera in her room and got off when she laid there naked as she slept. I mirror her phone, and I’m the same man who’s been watching her every move while pretending to be her shadow, her backup, her friend.

She starts to scramble backward, sheets tangling around her hips.

I don’t care. I’ve had her, and now she’s mine.

I grab her ankle and yank her back down the mattress in one smooth pull. She yelps, and I flip her onto her stomach, face half buried in the pillow.

“Elliot—what the fuck⁠—”

I’m already moving. Knee between her thighs, spreading them wide. My palm comes down hard on the perfect curve of her ass. And then I do it twice more. The stinging cracks echo in the quiet room. Her body jolts each time, a shocked little cry punching out of her.

“Your ass looks good with my handprints.” I rub at the tender spots. The touch makes her hiss through her teeth.

I switch my angle and slap her again.

“Your pussy looks even better. Leaking like a damn faucet.”

Her cheek is pressed to the sheet, ass up, thighs quivering from the spanking and fucking. Probably the coming too.

“You don’t get to call the shots when we’re like this,” I growl, leaning over her, chest pressed to her back, cock already hardening again against the cleft of her ass.

“No,” she moans.

Another slap. It’s harder this time, right where her ass meets her thigh. She yelps, hips jerking involuntarily.

I grab a fistful of her hair, yank her head back just enough so I can see her face.

“Don’t say no to us, Lee. You might be the baddest when we are in the field, but in here, beneath me, you do as you’re told.”

She winces at my words, and it makes me instantly hard again.

I notch myself at her entrance and push in slow this time. Inch by inch, I slide in, letting her feel every ridge, every vein, until I’m seated so deep she makes that wrecked little sound I’m already obsessed with.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “Elliot…”