Page 2 of Freeing His Spitfire

“Not a chance,” I growl back, already striding toward the elevator as the four other agents stand ready to take down our target.

In the midst of her struggles, she reminds me, “You have to grab my purse. It’s in the right desk drawer! Please.”

For a second, I hesitate, figuring she can get her goddamn purse later. Then she adds, “I have evidence against Oscar on a memory stick in my purse.” Her urgent tone tells me there’s no arguing with her, even if it sends me deeper into chaos. I bolt back to her desk, yank open the drawer, and toss her purse strap over my other shoulder.

Preston holds the elevator door for us with a huge smirk on his face. “That purse really goes with your outfit.” He snorts as I storm past him.

“Fuck off.” I flip him off as I rush inside with her still slung over my shoulder. She’s relentless, still squirming and pounding against me, but I hold on to my precious cargo.

”You’re strong-arming me!” she protests, flailing her arms around.

“I’m saving your life," I shoot back, deadpan, our little back-and-forth a twisted kind of dance in the chaos. The elevator pings as the door shuts, and I’m finally able to release the breath I’ve been holding since the moment I laid eyes on her.

She huffs in frustration, but I can see the fight starting to fade. “You can’t just manhandle me!”

With that, I step out of the elevator, determination set in my jaw. “I'm not taking risks with you, sweetheart, not when your safety is on the line. You can thank me later.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Barney.” She struggles a little bit, rubbing her plump tits against my upper back, and I feel my cock turn to stone in my goddamn pants. Just what I need.

When we’re finally outside the building, I find Stone standing next to a cop car with the terrified receptionist sitting in the back seat. As much as I hate to leave my spitfire with anyone else, I know I have a job to do. I can’t exactly woo my girl until we take out the trash.

I set her on her feet next to him. “Don’t let her leave and don’t lay a goddamn hand on her.” His eyes widen slightly as he gives me a chin lift, and I hand her purse over to him. “She said there’s evidence in there.”

“I thought the purse was yours.” He smirks and places the purse in an evidence bag. “It matches your outfit perfectly.” I just love working with a whole fucking team of comedians.