Page 23 of Kept By The Agents

Narrowing my eyes, I took myself to task. "That's right. He left you. That means it doesn't matter who you kiss. You don't belong to Darro."

My body was still humming, aching for someone to touch me. "I don't need these jerks," I muttered, ripping my sweater off over my head. Dropping the bag on the ground, I shucked my clothes as I walked toward the ensuite bathroom. "I'll get my own damn self off and then I don't have to feel guilty about hurting that asshole."

I wasn't sure if I'd ever get over the feelings that Suave invoked, but that didn't mean that I had to let him know what he did to me. All I had to do was stick with these guys long enough for the Raleka to be brought down, and not fall deeper in love with Suave, or let anyone else kiss me. Easy. Right?

CHAPTER 11

Weaver

Stepping off the stool I found shoved into a closet, I eyed the camera I just placed in the corner of the room. I liked to wire up the lower half of any house we stayed in when it was two stories. It gave us an early head's up if anyone tried to enter while we were sleeping. Once darkness fell I'd do the same for the outside of the house.

I grabbed my backpack that held my laptop and the rest of my sensitive equipment. Keeping it close was crucial to keeping it operational. Suave had a tendency to toss bags around. More of my shit had been broken by his carelessness than I liked. So now I made sure it went nowhere near him.

Poking my head into the new weapons room, I asked Brando, "Where do you want me?" I'd spend the next few hours setting up my room with the rest of my equipment and I was eager to look through the drive Boris had given us.

"Second door on the left," he said.

Something was off. Brando was usually restless on missions, but almost always in a good mood despite his high strung nature. He looked pissed. My brows shot up as he slammed down one of the rifles on the bench near where he was unpacking a bag.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine." He looked up at me and he seemed to mentally check himself. "Seriously. Everything's fine. Just getting things set up."

"I'll go do the same." I turned to leave. Brando was as particular about the set up of the weapons room as I was about my equipment, so I didn't offer to help.

"Weaver."

Looking over my shoulder, I gave him a questioning look. Unease swept over me at his answering grin. It was mischievous.

"I meant second door on the left from the stairs."

"Yeah." I gave him a look like he was a dumbass. If I took a left in the hallway now I'd toss myself over the banister and fall to the first floor. Shaking my head, I left.

"One of these days you're going to miss some important information because your head was already buried in your computer," he called out as I left.

Rolling my eyes, I shoved open the door to the bedroom that he'd assigned me. They were always busting my chops about paying too much attention to my equipment. It was my job to keep us safe and the only way to do that was to have my head buried in the camera feeds. He knew that.

Walking over, I dropped my backpack on the bed and headed to the bathroom. I'd needed to take a leak for about a half hour. My bladder was near bursting. As soon as I opened the door, I knew I'd been so lost in my own thoughts I'd missed the clues Brando had been giving. I'd also missed the sound of the shower running and the bag that had been dumped near the doorway. I'd been so lost in my own world I hadn't realized this was the room he'd also assigned to Catalina.

The door of the shower was a half glass panel that covered the back of the tub to keep the spray from escaping. The front half was left open, giving the user somewhere to exit from. We'd seen a lot of the same set ups in Europe and many of the places we'd traveled. What those showers hadn't had was a naked, wet, gorgeous woman in them.

Her moan echoed around the room as the steam rushed toward me to flood the bedroom behind me. Her left hand was planted against the wall, steadying herself, while her right was buried between her thighs.

My jaw dropped open at the same time that my dick hardened. Pissing was long forgotten as I realized I was watching Cat finger herself right in front of me. Not that she knew I was here. My cock pressed painfully against my zipper as my eyes locked onto her pussy.

"Fuck," she gasped. Her legs quivered enough that she slumped to the side, resting against the wall. Her left hand, now freed, moved down her body and rested on her clit, which she began to rub in frantic circles.

My mouth was watering and I wished I was on my knees in front of her, licking her clit instead of standing here. Unable to help myself, my hand went to my hard-on and I started rubbing it through my pants. Licking my lips, I stood quietly watching as she masturbated.

Her tits heaved as she worked her pussy. They were big, enough for a handful, with dusky nipples. Her legs were shaking more the closer she got to her orgasm and I wondered if she was going to be able to hold herself up much longer.

I imagined laying her body down on the bed, or better yet, bending her over right there in the shower and thrusting into her. It'd been so long since I'd sank into a soft, willing body. My own groan worked its way free of my chest.

A responding gasp had my eyes darting up to her face. She was staring at me, mouth wide open, hands still as she processed what she was seeing.

"Oh my God! Get out!"

"Sorry," I stammered. "I was-"

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