Just as he could think of nothing else but seeking out her slick entrance and thrusting deep, she lifted away from him. He moaned in protest and arched his hips to follow her. She smiled and slipped down his body to hover over his cock, lips poised to take him in.
Borazt! His balls tightened in anticipation.
She paused to look at him. “Do we need more gel? Haven’t we . . . um, won’t I, you know . . . take it off? Use it up?
He was aching, the blood pounding in his shaft. He struggled to come up with the words to answer her.
“It’s absorbed into the tissues—both mine and yours. It’s good for several hours. No need to worry.”
She sighed. “God, I love this stuff. If you’re lying about it, I don’t want to know.”
She gripped the base of his shaft and licked at his crown, making him groan. She licked down the shaft and returned to take his head into her hot mouth. Her tongue swirled over his tip. He cursed, and his hips arched off the bed. The movement thrust him deep into her mouth. She took him all with a little hum of delight. Gods!
He stopped moving, afraid he would lose control in the hot cavern of her mouth, but she refused to let him go. She worked him from tip to base and back again, so hot and wet and willing, igniting a fire at the base of his spine that would soon explode into orgasm if he didn’t stop her. And gods knew he didn’t want to stop her.
He pulled in a breath against the bands around his chest. “Charlie . . .”
Her tongue lapped at him. “Hmm . . .”
“You have to stop, Charlie . . .”
“Soon.” She squeezed his shaft and sucked his head into her mouth.
“Now, Charlie!” He couldn’t stand another minute of this delicious torment. Unless she wanted him to come in her mouth? The thought sent a sizzle of heat through his skin. But, no, she’d been ready for him before she even started. And the memory of her falling apart as he pushed into her earlier made him crazy.
He withdrew as gently as he could, but he couldn’t keep the growl out of his voice. “Ride me, Charlie. I have to be inside you right now.”
She shifted into position, and he thrust upward, filling her in one fluid stroke. She gasped and leaned back, taking him deeper, exposing all her beautiful body to his touch. He caressed her breasts, plucking at the rosy tips until her channel clutched at him in response. Then he stroked down her trembling stomach to where they were joined and found her clit. His thumbs circled and teased the silken pearl, making her moan. And all the while he stroked in and out of her, and the fire grew.
He loved seeing Charlie this way, her head thrown back in abandon, her eyes closed in bliss, her body strong and given over to the pleasure he was bringing her. He wanted to see her come like this, everything open to his gaze, to the touch of his hands, to his cock driven deep.
But she was close, her breath short, her pulse throbbing and quick in her creamy channel. So he rolled her to her back and began to pound into her hard, fast, the orgasm rushing up on them both with ferocious speed. He let go and came in a storm of furious need, barely aware of her sweet words of encouragement in his ear, of her inner muscles clutching him in sudden response. He thrust again, deeper, the last of his seed spilling from him, and heard her moan his name. The sound sent a flush of heat through him. Gods, what she did to him! She still pulsed around him, hot and liquid, as his heart slowed its thudding and his soul returned to his body from whatever far realm it had recently visited.
He took a deep, satisfied breath and rocked gently in and out of her. She shuddered beneath him, her fingertips tracing the muscles of his back.
“God, that was . . .” Charlie began, then stopped with a sigh. “I don’t even have words to describe it.”
He raised his head to look at her. “Amazing. Spectacular. Let’s do it again as soon as possible.”
She smiled. “Yes. All those things. But I don’t usually . . . respond . . . like that.”
“Like what?” he said, but he thought maybe he knew, because he’d felt the same thing. For a few fleeting seconds they had set each other free.
She shook her head. “Like I was starving and you were some kind of banquet. Like I couldn’t get enough.” And now he could see the blush creeping across her cheeks. “You must think I’m—”
“Beautiful. And sexy.” He pushed an errant curl out of her face. “I love that you want me. I love seeing you come. I’m going to make that happen every day and every night for as long as I can.” For the rest of your life had been on the tip of his tongue; he bit it back just in time. He didn’t know where the impulse had come from. It had never been like him to think past one night with a woman, much less every night. But Charlie . . . Charlie was different.
She was looking up at him, her blue eyes thoughtful and warm. “Be careful what you wish for, mister,” she said with a little smile. “I might have to take you up on that.”
Sonny swung the big Escalade to the side of the road, praying he wouldn’t slide off into the ditch in the blinding snowstorm. Beside him The Buyer was as silently threatening as he’d been since the trip from the farmhouse had begun. Sonny had long ago given up any hope of a conversation with the man.
But now some details were necessary. “The cabin is just down that gravel drive about a hundred yards,” he said, pointing through the snow-spattered windshield. “Once you get around that bend there, you’ll see if there are any lights on. Snow’s too thick for you to see from here.” And getting deeper by the second, he thought. It was making him nervous. Everything about this job was making him nervous.
“That’s why you’ll stand lookout from there,” The Buyer replied. “Where you can see both the cabin and the road, yes?”
Sonny’s mood went from nervous to miserable. “Well, yeah, but how’m I gonna see anything standing in the woods in the snow? Or warn you in time?” His voice sounded whiny even to his own ears.
The Buyer was fitting a tiny, flesh-colored piece of plastic into his ear canal. “We have these for communication.” He handed one of the near-invisible tech marvels to Sonny. “But don’t use it unless it is absolutely necessary. If someone has driven up to the house and is coming in. Or if you see Gordon coming out of the house to stalk me. I don’t anticipate either eventuality.”
Sonny fit the thing into his ear. Mister SmartyPants might not anticipate shit, but shit always happened, from his experience. And hell . . .
“These things work if they get wet, or freeze?” He half hoped they didn’t. The big man glared at him like an old hoot owl. “Okay, okay. Just askin’. We ready?”
His companion didn’t answer, just opened his door and rolled out into the wind-driven snow. Sonny was forced to follow suit. He’d worn his hunting gear—a camo jumpsuit with a hood—and his longjohns underneath, but it wasn’t fully insulated. He recognized unhappily that he would be freezing, and probably wet, within minutes. When he thought of keeping watch as the melted snow ran down his neck, he could only hope The Buyer did his deadly work quickly. Sonny was in no mood to stand shivering in the dark for hours.
The two of them stumbled through deepening drifts, the snow up to the top of their boots now. Their path to the gravel drive was lit only by a pencil-thin beam of light from The Buyer’s flashlight. Sonny’s bad leg caught on something in the dark and he only kept his feet with a flailing of arms and a lot of cursing.
Soon enough the cabin came into sight, low lights glowing warmly from a couple of windows. Wait, was that Charlie’s car in the friggin’ driveway? Sonny peered through the snowflakes clinging to his eyelids at the snowed-in Subaru parked near the deck. It was Charlie’s, all right. Despite the blowing snow, he could see her funky stickers on the back bumper.
Goddamnit to hell! What the fuck was she doing here at this hour? But his quick mind provided the answer. In full digital detail. Christ on a fucking crutch!
He charged toward the cabin, rage red-hot in his chest. But a massive fist closed on his collar and dragged him back.
> “What the fuck are you doing?”
He shrugged off the big man’s hold. “This shit just got personal. My ex is in there with Laurence, er, Gordon. Whoever he is.”
“Didn’t you tell me she takes care of the old man?” The Buyer said. “Why wouldn’t she be there?”
“She don’t have nurse duty at this hour. She’s here for the son.” Screwing his brains out, no doubt.
The Buyer laughed. “Even better for me. The son will be distracted. That means no protection for father.”
“Yeah, well, fuck you, man! You don’t get to use my wife as distraction. I’m putting a stop to that little party.” He turned, but didn’t have a chance to take a step. The Buyer spun him back around and punched him in the face. He saw a flash of white, then a second of black, before he found himself on his knees in eight inches of white powder on the forest floor.
“You’re gonna stay right there, little man. I don’t need you in the way.” The giant loomed over him, ensuring Sonny stayed where he was. “I plan to be in and out of there in less than a minute: find the old man, slit his throat, and leave. I don’t want any complications. Better your ex gets a good boning than a bullet to the brain, understand?”
Sonny nodded, mute, something dark and warm running from his nose and dripping down into the snow.
“Good. Now do your job.” He turned then and disappeared into the trees.
By the time he staggered to his feet, Sonny couldn’t tell where the big bastard was. He was just another shadow, lost in the steadily falling snow. Where Sonny stood there was nothing but the sound of the snow hissing through the trees, the wind whipping behind it. All around him the storm raged, while the thought of his wife—his wife—with another man boiled in his brain.
He beat at his head with both fists, trying to dislodge the horrible thoughts. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t run. He had to stay here or The Buyer would kill him. Even in the middle of it, he recognized his panic attack for what it was. The shrink had told him he could talk himself out of it, and he didn’t have much choice, so he just started babbling.
“You know what I really want? I want that motherfucking wife-stealer dead, that’s what I want. I want to slip up behind him and slit his throat in the middle of the night. Yeah! How about them apples, huh? How’d you like that, huh, Charlie?”
The self-talk helped—and a couple of the little white pills he always carried with him. Sonny began to calm down after a while and to think “positive thoughts,” as his shrink would have put it. Though Sonny had to admit his shrink probably wouldn’t consider bloody murder very “positive.”
Still, it was a long time before he noticed The Buyer hadn’t come back.
Rafe hadn’t been asleep long when he woke again, and, compelled by long habit, surveyed the darkened room. Charlie lay tucked up against him, her back against his chest, her hair spilling across the pillow. She was sound asleep, her breath causing her shoulders to rise and fall in quiet rhythm. Outside, the snow reflected all ambient light, casting a faint silvery glow into the room.
Behind his ribs an emotion he didn’t recognize had a gentle hold on his heart. Beyond mere satisfaction of body or peace of mind, he felt . . . something deeper. He’d heard people speaking of it—Rescuers longing to finish a mission and get home; old comrades sitting around a familiar bar; even, once or twice, Kwai, Shef and his father. They spoke of something to hold on to, to fight for, to protect. He had never known what they meant. Until now.
He wondered if that tender feeling around his heart had caused him to wake out of his own dark dreams to watch Charlie sleep. But no, the reason was probably more carnal in nature—he was hard again, wanted her again, though he’d already enjoyed her welcoming warmth and quick response more than he should have. He had never been inclined to spend so much time with his bed partners before. He hadn’t seen the point. But the benefits were obvious with Charlie.
He moved to brush her hair back from her neck so he could kiss her there, then suddenly froze as she tensed and raised her head. “Was that Happy?” she said, turning to him in confusion.
Rafe had heard it, too. A muffled, warning woof! from the dog in the other room. Then a continuous low growl and a sound of scraping claws as the animal got up to all four paws.
Charlie sat up, her eyes wide. “Someone is outside. A person. He wouldn’t bother if it was just a deer or a raccoon.”
Rafe swung his legs out of bed and reached for his clothes. “Get dressed, but stay here. I’ll send the dog to you.” Like she’d said, the dog was smart, but Rafe didn’t need the creature underfoot while he dealt with this problem.
Meanwhile, his woman was giving him a stubborn frown from the center of the bed.
He shook his head. “I mean it, Charlie. Don’t come out of this room.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” The frown had turned into a full-on glare.
He paused to return her glare, boots on but untied. “No! I’ll take care of it.”
She got out of bed to grab her own clothes without another word. He glanced at her, noted her lips set in a thin line, and experienced a nanosecond of regret for his tone. But he didn’t have time to apologize. The dog was beginning to bark now.
Rafe snatched his stun gun out of its case under the bed, then slipped out the bedroom door. Down the hall, the Old Man’s door was still closed, his rest undisturbed. Rafe moved soundlessly past Del’s room and flattened himself against the wall before the opening onto the great room.
Happy stood at alert near the front window, staring out into the darkness. He barked once before Charlie, in the hallway behind Rafe, told him sharply to hush! He turned to look at her, then ran a little way toward the back door and barked again, the hackles standing up on the back of his neck.
The intruder was working at the lock; a soft digital whine and a series of subtle metallic clicks told Rafe he was almost through the door. The sounds confirmed this was no bungling Earth burglar, but a trained for-hire using alien tech. Rafe’s heartbeat accelerated, and he was uncomfortably aware that the palm gripping his weapon was sweating—not much, but perceptibly. Gods, had he been out of service that long?
He gestured at the dog. “Hap, come! Come!” His voice was just a whisper, but the dog obeyed him and came, eyes shining with predatory eagerness.
Rafe pointed at the hallway. “Go find Charlie, Happy. Where’s Charlie? Go get Charlie!” Charlie called the dog softly and Happy dashed off down the hallway. The two of them went back into the bedroom. Rafe heard Charlie’s low voice reassuring him that he had done his job, then he heard the bedroom door close again.
The simple kitchen door lock hadn’t lasted ten seconds under the tech the intruder was using. Rafe just had time to dart from the hallway to the shadows behind the couch in the great room before he heard the door swing open on rusty hinges, then close again. He listened as footsteps moved slowly from the kitchen area to the threshold of the dark great room. Only one intruder, heavy enough to be male. An assassin, almost certainly. The Grays had found them.
Rafe could see nothing from his hiding place, but he’d been taught to use his other senses. And as the man moved from the kitchen into the great room, Rafe heard him take deep, wheezing breaths. He heard the wooden floor thump and creak under his weight. His opponent was a big man, probably accustomed to using his size to intimidate others. Rafe doubted he relied on his brain, either. Most likely, the assassin did what he was told, and forced others to do the same. The problem? Rafe would probably have to shoot the sonofabitch to take him down—and he wanted to talk to him first.
He waited until the man moved past his position and was silhouetted in the light coming from the hallway—shalssit, the sucker was bigger than he’d thought! Then Rafe rose and stuck the stun gun in the man’s back.
“Lose something, pultafa?”
The man’s only answer was to pivot to his right, knocking the pistol out of Rafe’s grip and nearly blinding him with a punch to the face. Rafe manag
ed to get his arms up to block the next flurry of punches, but borazt! the fucker was a helluva lot faster than he looked, and his hands were the size of Rafe’s head. Every blow was like getting hit with a sandbag. Rafe stepped back to get out of range and aimed a low roundhouse kick at the man’s left knee. It connected with a satisfying thwack! and the man stumbled, but he didn’t fall. Instead, he grinned, just before Rafe caught the gleam off the edge of something held against his right forearm.
The assassin lunged and missed gutting Rafe by mere centimeters. Rafe dove sideways to avoid another slash of the knife, landing in a roll on the floor. The big man followed him down, clumsy and slow, but swinging the knife in relentless arcs. Rafe rolled out of range, forcing the giant to scramble after him on his knees. Rafe was tempted to simply stand up and kick the man in the head, but he had taken to the floor for a reason—and there it was.
He launched himself toward his stun gun, grabbed it with both hands and jumped to his feet. “Let’s try this again, asshole! Drop the knife and put your hands behind your head!”
“Fuck you,” the giant said, and charged from his low crouch on the floor.
Rafe had no choice but to pull the trigger, dropping the man into a lifeless sprawl. “No. Fuck you, you big ptark.” He surveyed the downed psoros, checked the weapon in his hand and let loose with a string of curses in all the languages he knew. He’d only meant to stun the man, not kill him; he had questions only the dead man could answer. But he hadn’t had time to check the settings on the stun gun when he’d grabbed it. And now . . .
“Is he . . . dead?” Charlie stood in the hallway, Happy at her side, woofing and sneezing as he caught the scent of something beyond his experience.
Rafe closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath before he answered. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Jesus, Rafe.” She inched into the room and stepped around the body on the floor, Happy following more skittishly. The dog paused to sniff at the body, growled and moved closer to his owner. “Are you okay?”
Not Fade Away: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4 Page 18
