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“Yes, but they’re a very old, very powerful, and very well-spread organization. It takes time to get all the pieces in place.”
She marveled at that. “Wait, wouldn’t they already know your name and keep an eye on you? How would you pull that off?”
He chuckled darkly. “They never had my name. I worked for them as a number, and once I was done, I disappeared for a while. All the money went into Blackthorne Group. That’s not my name either, but one I took for myself.”
“And Dainn?” she questioned.
“Only you know that, flamma,” he told her softly, and she took the moment, cherishing another little gift he’d given her. Taking a sip of her tea, she looked up at him from under her lashes, seeing the sunlight playing in his gold-green eye and glinting off his black one. Both eyes representing both men—Blackthorne and Shadow Man within him.
Which reminded her... “Why Shadow Man? And when did you... become him?”
He pushed one of his hands into his workout pant pockets, keeping the mug in the other, and damn he looked good. A belated tendril of heat curled in her, and she squashed it down.
“I am Shadow Man,” he stated. “He had to come out to deal with The Syndicate. He could go, get information, do things that others couldn’t. It was simple to have him. Blackthorn Group has access to current data, and I have access to the past. Between all the information I have, it’s made it easier.”
“And why do you want to take The Syndicate down?”
The first sign of stiffness tensed his body. His jaw worked slightly as he stared at her, and she waited, not knowing if she’d touched a nerve or if he was simply thinking. After a long minute, he put his mug down, heading toward the fridge.
“Are you sore?”
Blinking at the sudden change of topic, realizing that he wasn’t going to answer her, she sighed. Small steps, she reminded herself. They’d made enough progress that she could let it go for now.
“I am,” she answered him. “You wrecked me good last night.”
His back muscles came into focus and relaxed as he rummaged in the freezer. “You should put some ice on it.”
“No, it’s—” The sentence died on her lips as he turned and she saw what he held in his hand.
A dildo.
An ice dildo.
A dildo made of ice, a little smaller than he was.
What in the everloving fuck?
Horrified yet intrigued, her eyes flew to him as he went to the sink and ran it under water, the crystal clear ice shining in the sunlit kitchen. Turning the tap off, he moved toward her and she scrambled back.
“Oh, no. No. That isn’t going inside me,” she stated firmly, looking at the dripping ice appendage in his hand. She had never had good experience with foreign objects and she had told him that. He knew she didn’t like the idea of toys at all.
Unheeding, lips twitching, he put it on the counter before calmly picking her up and planting her ass on it.
“Put your feet on the slab,” he instructed, pushing her knees open. “Take the t-shirt off.”
Hesitating, not on-board with it, she stripped, resting her weight on her hands behind her on the counter, waiting to see what he would do.
He looked at her intently between her legs, seeing her swollen, abraded, nether lips. She’d always marked easily, and her pussy looked like it had been a battlefield.
“You had this in the freezer even though I said I didn’t like foreign objects inside me?” she intuited. It wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t have a regard for her boundaries. He never had, and he probably never would.
“You already know the answer to that.”
Well, if he was going to push her boundaries, she was going to return the favor.
“Why are you after The Syndicate?” she pressed on, knowing that was the moment he had clocked out of the conversation and began to distract her.
Cold, chilled ice circled around her heavy breasts in a large, infinite loop, leaving her gasping. Her gasp turned into a moan when his warm tongue followed, licking up the same path, her breasts heaving under the sudden onslaught of sensation.
