"What?" Morgan stared at Russell as she sat across from him in his office. Greg was seated in the chair next to her. They exchanged a brief look between each other. "Um, have you forgotten what happened the last time I went undercover?"
"Morgan, I know. I'm sorry. I wouldn't ask if we weren't desperate," Russell tried reasoning. "We will have cops at every corner. You won't be leaving to go anywhere; the perps will be coming to you this time. And Greg will be with you the whole time."
Morgan took a deep breath. The last time she had participated in an undercover sting operation she ended up being kidnapped and then shot. She really hoped she'd fare better this time. "Okay, I'll do it. What's the plan?"
Russell looked between them, hesitating briefly. "We've had a string of assaults with wealthy businessmen in town. We know it it drug related and that's why none of them are talking. Well, last night it escalated to murder, the victim being one of the state senator's sons. There's a lot of pressure to catch these guys and fast." Russell took a breath and a sip of his tea. "Far as we can tell, these crimes have been taking place in some of the more luxurious hotel rooms in Vegas. We're talking the penthouses, the top floors, with remote camera access to maintain privacy for the more exclusive guests. So far, it seems to just be the businessmen in these suites. We want to set up an operation where the deal is going down with a married couple. We are hoping with a female present we might be able to get more out of the perp, like a confession, if we play our cards right."
Greg looked at him incredulously. "So, we are using Morgan as bait again to hook some guy into giving up information? No way. I'm not going to put her through that again and neither should you."
Russell regarded Greg, taking another sip of his drink. "I know. And Morgan, you know you don't have to. We have a suspect in mind, but no evidence to tie him to the crimes. This is a guy with money, lots of power, and friends in high places. The only weakness we have found on him is a penchant for young blondes. You are the best bet we have in the whole department in getting this guy to talk."
Morgan looked at Russell. "I'm in."
"Morgan, are you sure?" Greg gave her a concerned look.
"Yeah, it's the job. I'll be fine. We need to get this guy."
Russell sat up straighter and leaned his forearms on his desk. "Ok then. We are set up to execute the plan tomorrow night."
Greg opened the door to the luxury suite. It was the penthouse at the Palermo, usually running thousands of dollars a night except for tonight when it was under police surveillance. Morgan followed him in, both of them taken back by the splendor of the place.
"So this is what it's like to live the good life," Greg said looking at Morgan. She gave him a nervous smile. She knew she was the one who had been adamant about doing this, but now she was having second thoughts.
"So I'll change in the bathroom. You want to take the bedroom?" she asked. It had been agreed upon that they both be dressed comfortably, as if they were readying for bed, to not draw suspension. Greg nodded at her request, and she retreated to the restroom with her bag in hand.
Greg dressed into a t-shirt and a pair of his nicer sweatpants. He was pretending to be a millionaire after all. He took in the elegance of the bedroom. The bed was huge and looked so comfortable. Across from the bed, an enormous flatscreen almost covered the wall. He decided to relax while he waited. He popped the tiny audio feed device into his ear and then kicked back on the oversized king bed. He leaned back on the pillow, his hands behind his head, as he watched tv on the monstrosity opposite of him. He heard the bathroom door open and glanced in that direction as Morgan walked out. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened at the mere sight of her. A red lace bustier peeked out beneath a black satin robe. Her blonde hair fell in tousled curls around her face. She looked heavenly and sinful at the same time.
"So how do I look?" she asked. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. His expression said it all. Morgan gave him a seductive smile as she sauntered over to him, twirling her robe's sash around in one hand. She lightly ran her finger down his cheek past his still opened mouth to his chin. She pushed it up gently with her thumb, closing his lips together again.
"Don't look so surprised. You're supposed to be my husband, remember?" she whispered as she tilted forward, unintentionally giving him a better view of her cleavage. "Although, I'm glad you like what you see."
"What was that? We didn't get it." Russell's static voice rang in Greg's ear, bringing him back to reality. He swallowed hard.
"Nothing," he replied, straightening up and trying to adjust himself to hide how turned on he was. "We're ready when you are."
"Okay, we have a visual on the suspect. He should be coming your way soon," Russell radioed back.
Morgan fiddled with the small disguised camera hidden within the top lining of her robe.
"Hey Greg, can you help me turn this thing on? The switch is really small, and I can't reach it. It's in the back of my robe behind the label," she said as she turned her back to him, lifting up her hair. Carefully he pulled the robe off her shoulder so he could reach the switch. His hand brushed against her soft smooth skin sending a tingling sensation down her spine. He angled forward as he searched, his lips almost touching the nape of her neck as he took in her strawberry scent. Just the thought of her had him coming undone. He was having trouble focusing on what he was even supposed to be doing. She felt the warmth from his breath linger on her back. He found the switch and flipped it. As he lifted up, his eyes caught sight of her chest, rising and falling as she tried to steady her breathing and her racing heart.
"Got it," he said choking on his words. She turned to face him, her emerald eyes meeting his brown ones. He felt himself leaning into her, unable to control himself, when they heard a knock at the door.
"Show time," she whispered. Greg stepped away to open the door.
Two large men stood at the door, one dressed in a dark Armani suit, the other more causal in a polo and jeans.
The man in the suit spoke first, an air of arrogance surrounded him as if he were a man used to getting his way.
"We heard you were interested in hearing our business proposal, Mr. Harrison," the man said extending his hand to Greg. Greg shook it and welcomed them in.
"I'm very interested. Come in. Excuse me and my wife, we were just getting ready for…um, bed," Greg smirked and threw a teasing glance Morgan's way. She blushed looking away. The man in the suit took careful notice of her, eyeing her in a way that made her skin crawl. She flashed him a smile to hide her discomfort.
"I see. You are beautiful, Mrs. Harrison, I must say. Your husband is a very lucky man," he said grinning.
"Thank you, Mr…I'm sorry. I don't think I caught your name," she tried to make her voice airy and light.
"Chesterfield. Robert Chesterfield and this is my associate Armando Galavan." The man in the polo by the door nodded indifferently as his cold eyes scanned the room.
Greg watched Morgan, feeling protective. The way this Chesterfield guy was staring at her made his stomach turn.
"So, Mr. Chesterfield, what do you have for me?" he said trying to take the focus off of Morgan. Chesterfield turned to Greg now. A challenge seemed to gleam in his eyes.
"Forty grams of the finest coke you've ever had for five hundred grand. You will not be disappointed. What do you say, Mr. Harrison?"
Greg studied him, meeting his gaze. "Seems fair. I'll get the money." He hesitantly walked to the bedroom, knowing this was part of the plan: to get Morgan alone with the perp, but he suddenly felt possessive and didn't want to leave this guy anywhere near her. Morgan sensed his uncertainty and nodded in his direction.
"Go ahead, honey. These men don't want to be here all day," she laughed, trying to deter him from changing the plan. Greg closed his eyes, steeling himself as he walked into the bedroom.
As soon as he closed the bedroom door, Russell's voice rang out in his head.
"Good job, Greg. We got him on the drug charge, now we just need a confession for the murder to seal the deal."
"Russell, I don't know. I think I should go back out there. That guy rubs me the wrong way," Greg said, fear and rage mixing inside him.
"Greg, we have to stick to the plan. There are cops waiting right outside the room, and Morgan has a camera on her. We will alert you the moment things turn so you can go out there." Greg gritted his teeth and agreed. He sat next to the door listening to what was happening in the other room.
Morgan made her way to the couch and took a seat. "Mr. Chesterfield, come join me." She patted the empty space next to her. "My husband may be rich, but he's notorious for taking his time. He may be a while."
"Call me Rob," he said as he approached her, sitting next to her. His leering eyes and amused expression sent chills coursing through her body. The experience was becoming all too familiar.
"So, Rob, tell me a little about yourself since we have some time," she said trying to remain calm and collected. She turned to face him, making sure to capture him in the camera.
He lightly ran the back of his fingers up the sleeve of her robe. "What would you like to know, Mrs. Harrison?"
She knew she had to play this just right. She let her hand caress his knee. "I love my husband, Rob, but dangerous men have always been my downfall. Something, unfortunately, my husband is not. You look like man attracted to danger. I would love to hear about some of your most risky escapades."
A smile crept across his already mischievous expression. "What kind of danger would interest you, my dear?"
"Tell about the worst crime you've ever committed. Naughty illegal things just makes my blood boil," she said as she playfully bit her lip.
He took her hands into his, the touch of him making Morgan shutter. "Where is your wedding ring, Mrs. Harrison?"
She looked at her left hand willing herself to quickly come up with a lie.
"I never wear it to bed. Just a habit," she played it off as she quietly slipped her hands away from his.
He eyed her now, his smile gone, replaced by a coldness that shone in his every feature. Morgan stiffen, scared she had been caught, but then he did something she didn't expect. He answered her question.
"I killed a man. It was not my finest hour. But it felt so powerful to have that kind of control, to determine whether someone lives or dies. I think the moment I did it I must have sold my soul to the devil." His words brought a silent pause between them.
Morgan looked him in the eye, horrified. "Who did you kill?" she barely whispered.
Chesterfield's creepy smile returned. "To get that answer, I think I deserve something in return." He ogled her breasts and was moving his hands in that direction when she jumped up.
"No," she said. Anger flashed in the murderer's eyes.
"I don't know the meaning of that word, Mrs. Harrison," he sneered. She stepped back feeling the weight of the room caving in on her when suddenly Chesterfield was on the ground, blood dripping from his nose. She turned to see Greg standing next to her, shaking out his right hand, a look she never seen before on his face.
"Oh my God, Greg," she started, but before she could finish, she heard a gunshot. Greg and Morgan both turned to see Chesterfield's associate, Galavan standing by the room's door wielding a revolver. They were frozen in place, until less than a minute later, when the SWAT team broke down the door. Both men were apprehended and carted off. Morgan still seemed stuck staring at the entrance, until she felt Greg grab her hand. She glanced up at him, barely moving, barely breathing.
"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded, squeezing his hand. That was how Russell found them a few minutes later.
"Great job, guys. Morgan, you were brilliant. I can't thank you enough. What we have on camera should be enough to hold him until we can prove who it was he murdered," Russell said. He surveyed both of them before he continued. "Looks like we only have about three hours left in this shift," he said examining at his watch. "Why don't you two call it a night? You've been through a lot. You can change here and I'll clock you out." He grinned and patted Greg on the back.
"Again, great job. See you tomorrow," he said leaving with the rest of the undercover team.
After all their equipment had been collected and the room cleared of evidence, Morgan and Greg were the only ones left in the room.
"You know, I doubt anyone is going to be using this room for the rest of the night, especially with a broken door. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Greg asked, giving her a smirk.
"Let's order room service," she squealed making Greg laugh.
"Exactly," he agreed.
Greg had just placed the order and hung up the phone. He was walking back towards Morgan when he stopped dead in his tracks. Greg's eyes traveled down her, widening as they went lower. She looked down also only to see that the sash on her robe had come undone revealing a thong the same color as her bustier. She blushed, but as she moved to to close her robe, she felt his fingers run across her hip bone, causing her to lose all the air in her lungs.
"Is this a tattoo?" he asked, his thumb lingering on her hip. He traced the small script with his finger, grabbing hold of her waist with his other hand as he did. The carefully transcribed words read: with pain comes strength.
"Yeah," she breathed, enjoying his touch. "I got it after my first undercover ordeal as a reminder." Greg looked up at her. Suddenly he realized what he was doing. He quickly backed away.
"Oh shit, Morgan, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me," he ran his hands through his hair, looking away, embarrassed. She moved closer to him, letting her robe fall to the floor. She put both her hands on either side of his face, making him look at her.
"Don't be," she whispered as she pulled him down to her. She paused, searching his eyes briefly, before she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips felt soft against his. As the kiss deepened, he found it becoming more difficult to control himself. When she felt his hand graze above her exposed thigh, she gasped allowing his tongue to enter her mouth. He pressed into her harder, addicted to her taste. Grabbing her by waist, he holstered her up, wrapping her legs around him.
He carried her to the bedroom and gently laid her on the bed, his lips still on hers. She pulled at his shirt, removing it. Greg stared into Morgan's eyes as he ran his hands up her bustier. They fumbled searching for a hook.
"God, how do I take this off?" He threw up his hands in frustration. Morgan bit her lip in an enticing way as she unzipped the garment from the side, letting it fall off of her. Greg's eyes devoured the sight of her bared before him.
His hands had just begun exploring her when there was a knock on the door.
"Room service?" came an uncertain voice from the other room. Greg stopped kissing Morgan's neck and looked up at her.
"Hold this position. Don't move. Don't think. Just wait. I'll be right back." He reluctantly backed out of the room, not taking his eyes off of Morgan. When he returned, he had something in his hand and a wide grin on his face. As he approached her, Morgan saw that the object was a can of whipped cream.
"I thought we could make this a little more fun," he said shaking the can. He sprayed the cold cream in vertical and circular designs all down her body, removing the thong as he did so. She closed her eyes, taking in his sensual touch as his mouth and tongue traveled in patterns down her, licking off cream. She was near the verge of collapsing when she felt the weight of him on her and the length of him inside her. They molded together, absorbing each other's flesh. It wasn't long before they both reached the point of no return.
Morgan laid on Greg's chest in the afterglow, her fingers lacing and playing with his as they held each other.
"So what happens now?" she asked softly, not wanting the fantasy to end.
"We live happily ever after, and you never go undercover again," he said kissing her forehead. "I love you, Morgan."
"I love you too."