by Ciana Stone
Something sprang to life inside her. An assertiveness she’d not previously known. She wanted him, wanted to explore his body. With nimble fingers she unbuttoned his shirt, running her hand over his warm skin, feeling the play of muscle beneath, the ripple of his abs as her hands moved lower.
Sara ended the kiss as she lowered his pants and pushed his underwear down. His hard cock sprang free, bobbing with excitement. Slowly she started a trek down his body, her lips and tongue working slowly toward their destination.
She knelt in front of him, feeling his hands tangle in her hair as she took his hard shaft in her hands. She ran her tongue around the spongy head, probing the tiny opening. Pre-cum gave him a salty flavor. She licked at the tiny droplets, using her tongue to smooth the lubricant over the engorged head.
Morgan’s grip on her hair tightened when she ran her tongue down the length of his cock and back up. The low groan he uttered when she took him into her mouth had her insides fluttering with excitement and desire. Knowing that she was giving him pleasure was exciting, intoxicating. She wanted to take him higher, give him more.
Several times she felt his balls tighten, felt the vibration that coursed through him. Each time she slowed, pulling back to circle the head of his cock with her tongue, prolonging the pleasure.
“Christ, Sara,” he breathed when she took as much of him as she could. His hands gripped her hair tighter, guiding her movements, his pelvis rocking, stroking into the wet warmth of her mouth.
“No.” He gently but forcefully pushed her away as the impending wave began to vibrate through his body. “Not yet.”
He stripped her, taking his time, kissing and suckling her breasts until her nipples ached and her pussy wept with need. His own release was second to his desire to brand her, make her his. Give her what no other man could.
His lips captured hers, and he tasted himself on her tongue. Slowly he ended the kiss, his lips traveling down her neck, nipping at the tender skin, tasting then moving lower, once more capturing a sensitive nipple in his mouth. As his tongue flicked over the taut nub, his hand moved lower, over her mound, his fingers sliding between the wet folds.
She jolted when his finger raked over her hard clit, gasping at the sensation. Morgan wrapped one arm behind her, bowing her back to tease her nipple, his tongue circling and flicking before sucking it into his mouth.
Her breath came faster as his fingers worked over her clit, stroking and pinching. “Ahhh,” she gasped, her belly rippling with impending release.
Morgan eased her back onto the deep carpet, spreading her legs to kneel between them. She watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he spread her pussy wide then bent to run his tongue between the swollen lips.
Sara arched against his mouth. Morgan raised his head long enough to see her hands move to her breasts, thumbing the reddened nipples, her head arched back and chest rising and falling more rapidly as the pleasure intensified.
It was the most sexually alluring sight he’d ever witnessed. She was feminine sensuality personified. His need to pleasure her magnified. He wanted to hear her scream his name in ecstasy, know that it was him she wanted, needed.
His finger probed the entrance of her pussy, circling the wet silken flesh then pushing inside the warmth. Another finger joined in, feeling the heat of her wet walls, searching for that secret spot. Her body arched in answer when he found it. Her hips rocked in time to the stroking of his hand, his fingers penetrating deeply inside her.
Morgan bent forward, taking her clit in his mouth, licking and sucking at the hard bud. Sara gasped, moving faster against his fingers. He felt the vibration that raced through her and stroked faster and deeper inside her, sucking her clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue rapidly over it.
“Oh…god…Morgan!” she panted a moment before her pussy began to spasm around his fingers and wetness streamed from inside her.
Before her climax could end, he straightened and pushed the head of his dick against her wet opening. She pushed against him, taking him inside her, her tight pussy yielding to his width.
He nearly came before he was fully seated inside her. Morgan ran his hands up her luscious body, gently squeezing her swollen nipple. She smiled and took his hand, sucking one finger then two inside her mouth. The sight of her sucking the juice from her pussy off his fingers gave him a thrill that made his dick throb, threatening his tenuous control.
“Hmmm,” she murmured, freeing his fingers and moving his hand back to her breast.
He began to stroke, slow and steady, straining to keep the impending orgasm at bay. Sara’s pussy pulsed on him, tightening then releasing. Her hips rose and fell, meeting each thrust, keeping the rhythm steady and slow.
Both of them were breathing harder, trying to hold back. “I can’t,” Sara gasped and stretched her arms back behind her head, arching her body up. “Please.”
The effect of her words and the sight of her submissively offering herself was more than he could resist. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to him, impaling her on the full length of his dick and eliciting a soft cry in reward. He could feel her muscles tighten around him, feel the vibrations begin.
He lowered himself down, propped on one elbow, his free hand pinning her hands to the floor as he thrust more urgently, more forcefully.
“Now,” she moaned a moment before her body began to quake in orgasm. That ended his control. With two hard thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt inside her and gave in.
An orgasm claimed him that had his own body stiffening in ecstasy. When at last the wave had passed, he collapsed onto her chest. For several minutes there was only the sound of their breath, their hearts pounding against one another, sweat-slicked skin gradually cooling.
Morgan rolled off her, pulling her with him to cradle her to his side. Sara reached up to stroke the side of his face and he turned his head to look at her. The depth of emotion he saw shining in her eyes was as breathtaking as the orgasm he’d just experienced.
“Sara,” he whispered, reaching up to cover her hand with his. “My Sara.”
She smiled and closed her eyes. A few moments later, with a smile on his face, sleep claimed him.
Chapter Seven
In all her life, Sara had never woken with such a sense of completeness, such happiness. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Morgan smiling at her.
“Good morning,” he said and raised her hand from his chest to kiss the palm.
“Hmmm, it certainly is,” she said with a smile.
They’d been in Washington for over three months, and in that time had flown all over the country, covering the campaigns. Morgan took scores of photos. Some of the candidates in crowds, on stage or even in private moments away from the media. She’d viewed every photo, poring over them in detail, searching for the most meaningful.
They’d become a team. Now she’d become his extra set of eyes, pointing out opportunities that presented themselves for candid shots. It was as if they were of one mind when they worked.
And in the time they weren’t working, they were discovering a depth of passion neither of them thought possible. More than sexual, their bond was one of deep emotion and understanding.
Sara had told Morgan all there was to know about her life. Except Danu. She had not been able to bring herself to reveal that bit of knowledge. How could she tell him that she was on a mission to save him? Save him from what? Thus far she’d seen no threat, been given no warnings from the Sight of any danger to him. Could Danu have been wrong?
She didn’t know and didn’t really want to think about it. She was too happy. At long last she was in love.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said softly.
“Just wishing we didn’t have to cover the rally today,” she said wistfully, shoving aside thoughts of her mission and doubts as to its veracity.
“And what would you rather do?” he asked, propping up on one elbow and lifting the sheet to peer beneath it at her naked body.
&n
bsp; She laughed and captured his face in her hands to kiss him lightly. “Have you any idea how…addictive you are, Morgan Nicholaus?”
“Have you?” he asked in reply.
She shook her head with a smile and he rolled her onto her back, pinning her hands above her head. “I feel like a kid. I can’t get enough of you, Sara. I don’t know that I ever will.”
Her smile diminished. In their time together, no words of love had been spoken. She was certain that she loved him, but he’d made no declarations and she hadn’t tried to elicit any.
“You don’t have to say that,” she replied softly. “I don’t expect anything from you, Morgan.”
“I know. You give without reservation and ask for nothing in return. And I find myself wanting to do the same. Sara, I want to give you the world. Make every day something special for you. Give back what you bring to my life.”
“And just what is that, Morgan?”
“Love. I feel your love, Sara. Like a tangible force that surrounds me, keeping the demons at bay, protecting me, allowing me to breathe and feel whole. You inspire me, Sara. Like my own guardian angel and divine muse rolled up into one beautiful package. I love you, Sara.”
She was stunned by his words. It was more than she’d ever hoped for. “Oh Morgan. I love you. More than I can ever say.”
Tears sprang from her eyes. Tears of joy and tears of guilt. How could she profess love to him and not tell him all of the truth?
“Hey!” He gathered her in his arms. “A man professing undying love is supposed to be a happy occasion.”
“And it is,” she assured him. “But you know me. Miss Waterworks.”
He chuckled and kissed her. “Well, you are the only person I know who can cry over a commercial.”
She laughed and pushed at him. “It was touching!”
“If you say so.” He rolled away as she snatched a pillow and went to hit him with it. “Sorry, baby, but fun and games will have to wait. The car will be here in less than an hour so we better get a move on.”
“Yes sir!” She gave him a jaunty salute and hopped out of the bed. “Last one to the shower is a rotten egg.”
Giggling and laughing, they raced for the bathroom.
* * * * *
Later that afternoon, they stood among a crowd of thousands outside the Capitol Building, waiting on the appearance of one of the politicians seeking the Democratic nomination, and the first female many believed to have a chance at not just winning the nomination but the election.
They were due to meet with her in private after the rally, something that had Sara on pins and needles. “You sure I look okay?” she asked for the tenth time.
Morgan smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You look incredible. Good enough to eat.”
She laughed and pushed playfully at him. “I’m not talking about that kind of okay. You sure this suit looks right on me? I feel kind of like a kid dressed up in her mama’s Sunday-go-to-meeting outfit.”
“You look wonderful, Sara. Trust me,” he replied and handed her one of his cameras. “Here, I think it’s time you started taking some of your own shots.”
“Oh no.” She waved her hands on front of her. “I don’t know the first thing about photography.”
“Come on,” he encouraged. “I already have it set. Just look through the viewfinder and if you see something good, tell me and I’ll shoot it too. This will give you a better view.”
“Okay, but just as a scout,” she replied and accepted the camera.
A roar from the crowd signaled that the candidate had arrived. From their vantage point near the stage, they had an unimpeded view of her and could easily turn and get shots of the crowd.
While Morgan fired away at the candidate, Sara busied herself with scanning the crowd, snapping a few shots of people, noticing the expressions of excitement on many of the faces.
She got a bit bored as the candidate launched into her speech, and let the camera drift to the surrounding area. Suddenly her heart leapt into her throat. “Morgan!” she hissed and bumped him with her hip.
“Hey!” he protested.
“Morgan, quick!” she insisted. “Look!”
“Where?” He stepped behind her and directed his lens over the top of her head in the direction she pointed.
“There!” she exclaimed. “See, in that window. The…fourth one from the right.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“There’s something there.”
“What?”
“Someone with a gun.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Morgan kept his lens pointed at the window. When the figure appeared again his camera fired before Sara could get the words out of her mouth. “There he is!”
“Christ!” Morgan blurted and whirled away, slamming his camera into her hands and then running at full tilt up the steps of the platform to launch himself at the candidate before anyone could stop him. A split second after he tackled her, bullets slammed into a Secret Service agent who’d been standing behind her.
Pandemonium broke out with people screaming and running all directions, agents yelling orders and people clustering around the candidate who lay trapped beneath Morgan.
Sara tried to fight her way to Morgan but was pushed back farther and farther by the crowd, carried on the sea of fleeing people. By the time she’d managed to work her way free, she was nearly a block away and police cars were skidding to a stop all along the street, barricading the area.
She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t get to Morgan. She waited and watched along with hundreds of others, and finally gave up and fought her way free. She walked for nearly a mile before she was able to hail a cab to get back to the apartment.
Once she arrived there was nothing she could do but wait. And worry. She paced the floor, back and forth, over and over until her feet hurt. Finally she flung herself down on the couch. The sound of the clock on the wall, ticking slowly, was the only sound. The space between each tick seemed to be growing.
Sara felt an impending attack of the Sight and hurried to the dining room table where she’d set up her laptop. Her hands trembled as she raced to boot up the system and start a new file.
Her vision swam. She wasn’t going to make it. At the last moment the canvas appeared. She snatched up her graphic’s pen and tablet and fell into a chair.
And was lost.
When she returned, the scene on the computer had her jumping up to get the cameras she’d brought back with her. Scared nearly out of her wits, she saved the scene she’d drawn and pulled the memory cards from both cameras. She inserted the one from the camera she’d used into the card reader.
It seemed to take forever for the images to load, but finally the operation was complete. Selecting a filmstrip mode, she scrolled through the images, stopping on a blurred shot of the building where she’d seen the gunman. It wasn’t clear enough to make out much of anything. She removed the card from the reader and then inserted Morgan’s.
Her heart jumped when she saw the images he’d taken. Clear as a bell and zoomed in tight enough, two images displayed a man barely visible between a part in the curtains. The first showed the man’s face above the rifle he held. The second showed him peering through the sight.
She quickly copied the files to her laptop, created a copy of the files and then switched memory cards, inserting the one from her camera. She copied the blurred shot off the computer, pasted the clear shots from Morgan’s camera on top of it and saved it under the original file name to her memory card.
She repeated the process, substituting her blurred shots for the clear images on his memory card. Now if Morgan looked at the images, he would think he’d missed the shot. And that meant that if word got out about the photos, no one would know he’d taken them. And no one would be trying to get even with him for exposing them.
She replaced the memory cards into the cameras then took another look at the image she’d created. Her mi
ssion was finally revealed and it scared the life out of her. Where was Morgan? What was she supposed to do? How could she prevent this from happening? Were the precautions she’d just taken enough?
A sound at the door had her racing to it. She threw herself on him before he could enter the apartment. “Oh god, Morgan! Are you okay? I was so scared!”
“Sara! Thank god. I looked everywhere and couldn’t find you.” He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly as he backed her up so he could enter and kick the door closed behind him.
She scooted around him and locked the door. “What happened?” she asked. “Was she shot?”
“No. She’s fine. Sara, where’s my camera?”
“On the coffee table.”
“Thank god!” Morgan went to it and removed the memory card. “I think I may have a shot of the assassin. We need to open the files on your laptop and see.”
“No! Morgan, wait!” She ran to stop him but it was too late. He saw the image displayed on the screen, stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her. His face looked ashen.
“When did you do this?”
“Just now.”
Morgan ran his hand through his hair and slumped into the chair in front of the computer. “That’s me.”
Sara ran over to him, throwing herself onto her knees beside him and grabbing his hand. “Morgan, look at me. Morgan?”
He turned his eyes to her and she could see the fear. It broke her heart. “Morgan, listen to me. Just because I drew this doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. It won’t. I’ll stop it.”
He barked a harsh laugh. “Right, you’re going to stop someone from blowing my brains out.”
“Yes.”
“Sara, I love you and I know you’d do everything you could to try, but you’re no match for someone out to commit murder. The only thing we can do is get the images to the Secret Service. They’ll know what to do. They’ll protect us.”
She nodded and looked down. Morgan inserted the memory card into the computer. When the images loaded he scrolled through them. “No!” he shouted as he saw the blurred photos. “No! God damn it all. What the fuck happened?”
