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Dean looked down, saw his thick fingers stroking him off, and wished they were hers—long and elegant with lethal-looking tips. He groaned again. So close. Then Dean closed his eyes, imagined dropping to his knees in front of her like the supplicant he was and burying his face in her juicy cunt.
When he came, he did with a roar. Hot ribbons of white splashed over his rock-hard abs, and his hand tried to hold the rhythm, but all systems had malfunctioned, and he twitched in the throes of the hardest climax of his life.
“Well, maybe not his whole life,” Kimberly mused aloud, sweat cooling on her brow as she dropped her vibe to the bed beside her. She’d be gracious and let her fantasy Dean have better orgasms than a handjob in his past, she supposed.But never in person, she thought as wonderful flashes of the night continued to play through her mind. God, he’d wanted her; he fucking wanted herbad—and she wasn’t talking just her fantasy Dean any longer either.
Kimberly had gone to The Lion’s Den tonight only to look around and ask questions. She knew some of the codenames from the stories Shawna told her, and she’d been hoping to find some answers and a place to start looking. Then she’d seen Dean, and her mind had gone blank of all but him.
At least for that hour. Thanks to that buffoon Master Whathisface, he’d rubbed one out for her, so she’d been able to shove Dean back to the corner basement of her brain. After she’d finally shaken free of Master Meathead, she’d gotten down to business. But Dean had watched her the rest of the night. Kimberly felt his eyes on her everywhere she’d turned like a vibe on her clit; even now, it made her ache to reach for her vibrator for another round.
With an inner scolding—and a fear of rubbing herself raw—Kimberly climbed out of bed, dropped her toy in the sink to be washed off later, and booted up her laptop. While the computer warmed up, she grabbed her copy of the papers she signed for Dean.
Feeling as ridiculous as a love-struck teen, she flipped to the last page in search of his signature. She smiled like a sap at the precise letters, having expected a stereotypical doctor’s scrawl. Then, something caught her eye; about a third of the way up from where her fingers lay, the wordscourt of lawwere written. Kimberly frowned and sat up straighter. She shuffled through the rest of the papers and started reading in earnest. Thirty minutes later, Kimberly let the papers fall to the floor in a flutter at her feet while she stared off into the predawn light in stunned fury.
“That son of a bitch.”
When Kimberly marched into Dean’s office that night, she was grateful for three things. One—she was his last appointment of the day, so the rest of the office was empty. Two—her fury hadn’t abated one bit over her long-ass shift. If anything, it’d grown. And three—she was having a damn good hair day.
Her coat made a satisfying swoosh as she flung it to the floor, then she stood there for ten boiling seconds to let him take in just how large her anger was. And fabulous aforementioned hair. Then, completely unscripted, Kimberly moved without thought and strode around his desk. Dean fumbled out of and behind his chair with the look of an addict trying to stay on the wagon.Well, tough shit, she thought and grabbed the big, fat, gorgeous liar by his sports jacket and slammed her mouth onto his.
Oh my gawd! Yer a wizard Harry!Kimberly’s mind went to mush. His lips were even softer than she imagined, and they parted for her like the Red Sea. She didn’t play, wasn’t fooling around, and this hunger had teeth. So, she bit him… hard… the tender flesh threatened to give between her sharp bite, and his throaty gasp drew her eyes to his.
Kimberly glared at him. Dean frowned back, and she arched up onto her toes in order to sink her tongue into his mouth. She was gonna come, holy fucking shit. He tasted of the cinnamon candies he liked to suck on, and Kimberly breathed the spicy scent of his breath into her lungs for the first time like she was taking in a part of his soul. They were still glaring at each other, and she could tell he was daring her as much as she was taunting him. Fighting to hide the rioting fireworks going off within every atom of her being, she sucked his tongue into her mouth and bit the son of a bitch a second time.
They shoved away from each other with equally restraint but nevertheless speed.
“What the hell was that all about?” Dean demanded as he waved for her to sit down and dabbed at his bleeding mouth with a tissue. “I thought we understood each other last night. If you’ve decided you are unable to continue our sessions, there is nothing wrong with that. I’d completely understand. But as far as a relationship—”
“Oh shut up!” She threw a pillow at his head. He barely managed to dodge in time, then whipped back to look at her in astonishment when another went flying toward his stupid model cars.
“Stop that! What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“What?” Kimberly crossed her legs and waved her foot back and forth like a veiled dame in an old Bogie movie while she dangled the last pillow by its corner. “Aren’t these things called throw pillows for a reason?” Then, deciding two was making a point and three would be teetering on childish, Kimberly put it down—a little less than graciously. It was more along the lines of “I’ve still got one in the chamber,” but that was close enough.
“I won’t ask again.” Calm as a cucumber, Dean threw her words from last night back at her, but she only answered him because it served her purpose, not his.
I know who you really are, Secret Agent Asshole of the FBI.” Kimberly was immensely gratified to see the dumbfounded look on his face and swung her next blow. “And I know why you’re here. You’re investigating the missing girls. Well, my best friend is one of them, and I want in.”
She hated to discover she was crying; she wiped angrily at the tear that leaked down her cheek and knew it was just as much caused by feelings of betrayal as worry for Shawna.
He scrubbed both hands over his face, gulped, then peeked at her from between his fingers as if he hoped she’d gone away. Fat chance.
“All right.” He finally dropped his hands to his lap in resignation and faced her like a man facing a firing squad. “Okay, fine. Kimberly, how did you figure all this out?”
At least he wasn’t trying to deny it or call her crazy.
“I read your”—Kimberly made finger quotes in the air—“‘disclosures.’ Imagine my shock when I got to the part where it said our sessions were really nothing but interviews, and everything I told you could be used in a court of law. Asshole.”
Dean nodded as if he’d expected that, then rubbed one hand over the bottom half of his face in agitation while he clicked his pen furiously with the other.
“Wow, Kimberly,” Dean finally said. “First, let me tell you I’m impressed. The bureau’s lawyers worded those docs very carefully. I knew you were smart, but I think that took three sharks a whole month to write and then a whole school of them to approve.”
“Precisely for what?” Kimberly demanded, not liking the way he seemed to be filling the room, his calm taking back some of that ‘you’re safe now and I’ve got you’ vibe that made her confide in him in the first place.
“I can’t give you details of the investigation. All I can tell you is that my involvement in it is strictly confidential, and it’s vital you do not share any of this information. With anyone.”
Kimberly crossed her arms and smirked at him and his bad, badass, sexy, crime-fighting self. “And what are you going to do with me if I don’t keep quiet, huh? You gonna place me under protective custody? Force me into the Witness Protection Program? What?” She dared him to try it.I’d love to see him try, she fumed inwardly.
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” The look on his face made her feel like an actor who’d just flubbed her line. “This isn’t a movie. What you’ll get is arrested, a prison sentence, and one hell of a fine. That’s right; think about that. A record complete with a mug shot for all the world to see. That’s what happens outside of Hollywood when you obstruct justice or willfully interfere with a federal investigation. Federal prison.” He leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees, and her lovable, comically self-assured, and conceited therapist disappeared. Suddenly, Kimberly was staring into the eyes of FBI Agent Dean Ackles, and the last thing she wanted to do was anger this man. “Don’t test me on this, Kimberly. Don’t testthem. The bureau will throw you in a hole even I wouldn’t be able to dig you out of.”
