Bite Me, Daddy (Dangerous Daddy Book 3)

Istanbul, Turkey…two years earlier

The summer night air was stagnant and hot, the sun’s setting offering little relief. There had been an atmosphere of suspended animation in the city all day. Mirage had just broken into the house of a high-ranking member of the Turkish Parliament who happened to be away on holiday. The Syndicate had instructed her to copy his hard drive and take photographs of anything she found in the hidden wall safe but not to steal its contents. They wanted no trace she had been there. She had already finished with the safe and was pulling the flash drive free from the computer when she heard the first round of gunfire.

Ducking low, she made her way out of the study and down the hallway to one of the front bedrooms. Leaning against the wall, she turned her head and hazarded a peek out the window which overlooked the main street below. The once quiet night had erupted into chaos. Throngs of people were pouring into the street, shouting and waving Turkish flags.

Fuck me!

The Syndicate had sworn to her any possible coup wouldn’t take place for at least another week. Mirage knew it was pointless to check her burner phone for information on any social media sites, the fastest option since it would take traditional media outlets at least a few hours to catch on. The Turkish government as well as the militants would both be disseminating their version of what was happening, neither completely true. She could be sure her main route out of the country, the Istanbul airport, was probably already or about to be shut down. These assholes always went straight for the airports.

Fuck me!

Just then she got a secure message from The Syndicate. They were sending one of their cleaners in. A man named Paine Darwin. Mirage was familiar with his work. He was a master thief like her but also branched out into the more violent jobs for The Syndicate. She must be in some serious danger if they were sending him to help. Still, she worked alone. She wasn’t about to wait around for some guy she didn’t know and, furthermore, didn’t trust for shit, to come to her rescue.

Mirage set to work searching the rest of the house for a weapon and a plan.

The gunfire was getting closer. The politician’s residence was near the Bosphorus Bridge which seemed to be a central focal point for the angry crowds judging by her view from the rooftop earlier. She should barricade the front door, thought Mirage. This house might become a target for the bitter mob. Just as she was pushing a heavy chair across the marble foyer, the front door burst open. A furious man dressed in camouflage started screaming at her in Turkish and gesturing wildly. Mirage raised her hands to prove she was no threat as she stepped before him. Before she could utter a word in her defense, a spray of blood hit her cheek as the man’s expression went blank. She leapt out of the way just as the dead man fell forward. Looking into the street behind, she saw a citizen with an M16. He raised his fist, yelled something in Turkish and ran down the street. Not knowing what else to do, she dragged the dead body inside away from the door and once more closed it, pushing the heavy chair on its side and in front as a barricade.

Then the bombing started.

Mirage dove under a round foyer entrance table. Curling her knees up to her chest, she covered her ears as clouds of dust and debris fell from the ceiling and the walls shook.

The shattering impact of the bombs was emphasized by the sudden pounding on the front door. Mirage picked up the only weapon she could find, a steak knife from the kitchen. Crouching low, she waited to see if they would break through the barricade. It was better she stood her ground and observed whoever it was, since hiding in the house would put her at a disadvantage. She wouldn’t have eyes on the situation. There was plenty of time to scatter once the door opened.

The door rattled from the impact. Once. Twice.

On the third strike, the chair shifted with a groan and the heavy wooden door was thrown open.

The street lamps from outside framed his large form as he took a cautious step forward. Surveying the room.

“Panama,” called out the man.

Mirage relaxed slightly. That was the code word The Syndicate said Paine would use so she would know it was him. Still, she stayed in her hiding place. Watching.

He closed the door behind him and replaced the chair. She could see the moment he saw the corpse on the floor.

Then his eyes connected with hers.

He had the most mesmerizing gaze. Cold and intense. His eyes were so crystal blue they almost shone like silver. A strong, angular jaw, deep set eyes and dark, wavy unkempt hair gave him an appearance of casual authority as if he was used to walking into a room and taking command. She marveled how such a large and imposing man could be a thief. High end thefts of jewels, information, even artwork, took agility. The ability to crawl through tight spaces, disappear into the sliver of a shadow, blend into the surroundings. She couldn’t imagine this man blending in anywhere. His height alone set him shoulders above the average man.

She watched fascinated as he moved towards her with a silent, masculine grace.

“It wasn’t me.”

She didn’t know why but she wanted him to know she hadn’t killed that man. Although it probably would have served her purpose to make him think she did. Criminals had reputations to protect and uphold after all, and a little embellishment never hurt anyone.

“I wouldn’t give a damn if it was, Mira.”

Shocked, Mira stared at him. He called her Mira, not Mirage. Mira was dangerously close to her real name. A closely guarded secret she was certain even The Syndicate did not know. She searched his eyes for some form of recognition, perhaps from her past, but saw none.

“That’s not my name,” she said finally. “Everyone calls me Mirage.”

“I’m not everyone. And I’m here to help you. The Syndicate sent me. So you can put down that steak knife you’re clutching.”

She watched as his face broke out into an arrogant smile. There were slight laugh lines around the tanned skin of his eyes. She marveled at that. She would have thought someone with his reputation would be more fierce and humorless, but he had laugh lines.

Disturbed by his immediate effect on her, she squared her shoulders as she placed the steak knife within view. “Who says I need help?”

Paine laughed. It was a deep, almost affectionate laugh. The hint of intimacy in that laugh rattled her.

Pushing him aside, Mirage crawled out from beneath the table. Standing before him, she straightened her spine to make her small frame seem as tall and imposing as possible.

Again the man laughed as he seemed to give her an appreciative look.

Brushing the dust off her palms and pants, Mirage once against straightened, hands on hips. “So what’s the big plan to get us out of here?”

“We need to sit tight until tomorrow. I have a few contacts who say this will all blow over by then.”

“So you just want us to wait around doing nothing?’ she countered with an indignant tilt to her right eyebrow.

He gave her another one of his arrogant smiles and a seductive wink. “Well, I hadn’t planned on doing nothing.”

“In your dreams, pal,” she smirked as she turned her back on him. “The bar is in the library. Might as well get drunk.”

“Absolutely not!” she stated emphatically as a crystal glass of whiskey dangled loosely from her grip.

“Yes.”

“No!”

“No is not an option, kitten.”

She ignored his use of the endearment and the tiny flip in her stomach when he said it.

Placing her glass on the side table, she stood up, looking as regal as possible in her dusty clothes. “Fine. I choose dare.”

“I don’t know why we even decided to play this game. It’s not like either of us will choose truth,” he smirked. Motioning with his hand, he said, “Okay, you know the dare. Get to it.”

Mirage thought for a moment. The dare was an outlandish, challenging move she’d had to use on any previous heist. Remembering that time in LA at the house with the crazy laser security system, she nimbly stood on her hands. Placing her legs straight in the air, she balanced her body for a moment before taking two steps forward on her hands and then slowly opening her legs into a full split.

She heard the scrape of his chair. Just as she was about to right herself, she felt his strong hands on her hips. He flipped her upright, her legs now wrapped around his waist. Her body flush with his. Running his hand up her back, he fisted it in her long curls. Using his grip on her hair, he forced her head forward to meet his brutal kiss.

His lips slanted over her own. She could taste the smoked wood essence of the whiskey on both of their tongues. He moved to kiss her jawline, then nip at her neck before sucking her earlobe into his mouth, gently biting down.

He whispered gruffly into her ear, “Jesus Christ, kitten. Promise me you will never do that move in front of any other man but me.”

Still too taken aback by the violence of his kiss, she didn’t respond.

He yanked on her hair. The sting sent an unexpected flash of desire through her body. Her shocked eyes clashed with his.

“I mean it. Promise me,” he ground out, staring at her intently.

“I promise,” she responded, and strangely enough, she meant it.

Without saying another word, Paine carried her out of the library and up the stairs. Turning into the first bedroom he found, he stripped the bed bare, laying her upon it. He didn’t even allow a moment’s space between them before he covered her body with the heat and weight of his own.

The bombs had started again but neither cared. The world and all its chaos receded.

Sweat sheened skin.

The scent of whiskey on their heated breaths.

The sting of his hand as he slapped her ass.

“Oh god! Fuck!”

Running his teeth along the whorl of her ear as he pressed his firm chest against her back, he rasped, “Call me Daddy.”

“What?”

“You heard me, baby. I want to know who’s your daddy.”

A trill unfurled in her stomach. It was dirty, raw and possessive in a fucked up way. Calling him daddy seemed to transfer ownership…and power. His thick shaft stung as it tore into her tight body. A physical reminder that she was already owned…already possessed by him.

She submitted.

Licking her lips, she whispered. “You.”

“Louder.” His cock pressed in deep.

“You,” she cried out. “You are.”

“Say it. Say I’m your daddy,” he ordered as he thrust harder.

Bracing her palms against the mattress, she pushed up, pressing her body into his…pressing his cock deeper. Reaching her arms up, she wrapped them around his neck.

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

Cupping her breast, he pinched her nipple hard as his right hand slapped her ass.

“Oh, babygirl. You’re mine now.”

She pretended to be asleep when he left the next morning. He had left a note saying he was securing transportation out of the country and to be ready to go when he got back. She had already arranged her own way out.

She left before he returned.

She wasn’t dumb enough to think she was anything to a man like Paine, despite his possessive nature last night. Best to spare them both the awkward, morning-after conversation.

He would probably forget all about her…after all, this was a one-time thing. It was not like they would ever cross paths again.