To Trick a Hacker: Women of Purgatory 3

by India Kells

  While her right hand was busy building an inferno, she started unbuttoning her shirt, one button at a time. Owen’s gaze went to her face immediately, and so many emotions skipped across his features, she couldn’t tell their meaning. Instead of relying on her brain, she listened to her gut. Fear mixed with lust, surprising her in their intensity, and how it felt like pouring gas on a raging fire. It was the right step. The realization made her smile.

  Now, her shirt parted, barely offering a sliver of skin to his eyes. Owen swallowed and licked his lips, as if the potential appearance of her skin was a sight to behold, the improbable eclipse to be seen only every century.

  Dylan pulled back her hands from between her legs, and swiftly shed her shirt, before unclasping her bra, and letting it fall to the floor. Half-naked before him, she didn’t look at herself, only focusing on him. His pupils dilated, making his blue eyes turned to black. Beyond all the signs or words he could have given her, the subtle response of his body reassured her to no end. At the sight of her, he quickly nipped at the base of his cock, clearly struggling to avoid immediate orgasm. Immobile, he breathed hard, waited a few seconds before resuming a more gentle, slower movement.

  With shaking fingers, she started to pull down her jeans. At that instant, Owen stilled his hand, even stopped breathing. Ever so slowly, she pushed the denim down her legs. She didn’t need to look at the marks and scars marring her skin; she knew them better than she knew herself. It was for Owen, only for him that she was baring them. A show in confidence and trust, a leap of faith she didn’t know she had in her.

  Stepping out of her jeans, she dared not to touch herself again. Not yet. Instead, she locked gazes with the man still seated, fully dressed in front of her. It was like playing chess; she had made her move, it was now his turn.

  After a moment that felt like eternity, he inhaled deeply. His eyes traveled her body, slowly, thoroughly, until it reached her face. He let go of himself, and stood up.

  When he took a step back, fear and disappointment gripped her, raw tears clogging her throat. She had made a mistake. Damn it!

  But before she could react, Owen reached behind him and removed his T-shirt, then kicked his boots and pants out of the way. Now, this incredible man, this golden warrior stood naked before her, and aroused as hell.

  It was her turn to let her eyes wander over him, over every single inch of rippling muscle, but also over every burn, scar, and mark on him. He may not have been at the hand of a psycho sadist, but he had suffered pain and made decisions that had left marks on him. Permanently.

  Owen didn’t move as she reached for him, her eyes on one mean looking slash on his upper hip. It had healed completely, but the wound must have hurt. When her fingers touched the puckered skin, he shivered uncontrollably, his hands turning into fists. Now so close, his body heat drew her even closer.

  “So, now you see the extent of the damage on me.” Dylan tried to make light of it, but she didn’t feel exactly like smiling.

  At first, she thought he would touch her, outline her marks, but instead, he cupped her face, forcing her to look up.

  “Thank you, for trusting me.” Owen’s face softened. “You’re the most beautiful, incredible woman I have ever seen.”

  Before she could contest his statement, he kissed her. This time, restraint was gone; it was all about desire and possession. And the way he made his affirmation blew her away, shattering every single last doubt in her mind.

  And just like that, for the first time in years, she yearned to be touched. In fact, she couldn’t wait anymore, and every single inch of her front touched every single inch of his, before his arms finally banded around her.

  The steady connection quickly turned into frenzied desperation. Owen’s hand crawled up and fisted into her hair, making her neck vulnerable to his mouth. Her nails dug into his arms when his lips skimmed the very first line of her marking over her shoulders. She expected him to stop and wait, but instead Owen bit her lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

  He rubbed his beard against the sensitive flesh of her breasts and she arched against him. It scratched and tickled in a way that made her restless; she wanted all of him all over her. His tongue swirled around her nipple before his lips closed around it and he bit lightly. The sensation stirred something deep inside, an electric shock making heat pool between her legs. Dylan squeezed her thighs trying to find any relief. It was like being an electric wire, and their earlier teasing didn’t help. Instead, the feeling became unbearable.

  Owen obviously knew how desperate she was becoming, and did nothing to help her find some relief. The cad! On the contrary, his lips became more insistent, his tongue searching for sensitive spots amid the scars and thickened skin patches. And did he find them! Half-sitting on the desk, leaning back, her hands gripping the wood until her knuckles hurt, Dylan’s only focus was on his touch, the golden man slowly inching between her legs, keeping the darkness at bay.

  True to his nature, the SEAL was relentless, his hands, his mouth, his mind solely on a mission only he knew. Dylan believed that it was to bring her to the brink of madness again. His warm breath caressed her trembling core, and before she could straighten her thoughts, ask for anything, his mouth was on her. The pressure, the intensity; that’s when she realized that there was no finesse in his attack. He wanted her to skyrocket fast and hard. He wanted be in charge of what was happening; he wanted her to lose any sense of the present, and submit to him, to what he was offering her.

  When the orgasm seized her body, he didn’t move, didn’t stop, didn’t relent. Dylan was swimming in colors and when she gathered enough strength to look down, Owen was still on her, clearly ignoring his own needs, his cock red and engorged, left alone. His hands were only for her, his mouth only for her, his eyes deciphering every piece information she may provide him. And when she thought he had wrung everything out of her, his mouth, almost painful now on her sensitized skin, made her shatter again. Her voice was raw when she screamed, her body tensing like a bow, vibrating almost to the breaking point—trying to get away and get closer, all at the same time.

  It took her a moment to come back to her senses and realize that Owen was slowly kissing his way back to her mouth, lavishing every part of her, every inch of her body with kissing and strokes of tongue. Her fingers loosened on the desk, and she plunged them in his dark gold mane, running her fingers through the strands before kneading his large shoulders. As he rose, his eyes a storm, a satisfied tilt on his mouth, she decided that it was damn time she took charge and made him lose restraint for a change. Now towering over her, his lips hovered over her lips. Dylan pushed herself up and kissed him. He moaned and shivered, before bringing her closer, trapping his throbbing erection between them. Inch by inch, she pushed him backward, until he was against the chair. That’s when he broke the connection and looked at her. Instead of answering, Dylan pushed even more, making him lower to the seat.

  She was far from stupid and knew from the get-go that his objective was to pleasure her, to make her forget her fears, and to prove to her that he was attracted to her body, despite what he might see. What he didn’t take into account was that she had her own idea about what to do with the expanse of trembling muscles on his warrior frame.

  Dylan didn’t allow him to think when she knelt between his legs to take his cock in her hand and ran her tongue from balls to tip. It was fascinating to observe a man, unrestrained, but willingly immobile, submitting himself to a woman he could have easily overpowered. It proved that no amount of bondage, torture room, or shackles could truly bring that man to his knees, unless he wanted to.

  When she swirled her tongue and took him deep into her mouth, the sound he made—the groan mixed with pain and pleasure—would forever be etched in her mind. She liked his voice, and how vocal he was as she was pleasuring him. Her hands on his thighs made a slow, caressing trail up to his hips, making him rise from his seat, causing him to push himself slightly more against her lips.
She took him in, but didn’t stop at her lips. Her hands explored his body, all ripples and ridges, all dips, coarse hair, sweat, and heated skin. One of his fisted hands released the armrest and tangled in her dark hair. The hold was not hard and didn’t direct her rhythm, it just anchored the moment between them.

  When she heard his breathing change, the rush of blood accelerating against her lips and tongue, Dylan gave one last leisurely lick and let him go with a pop before looking up at him.

  “Please tell me you have a condom somewhere.”

  Owen blinked several times, before the lust clouding his brain finally registered her words.

  “Condom, yeah.”

  Dylan remained on her knees as he jumped to his feet, opening and closing the drawers on his desk in an almost a comical frenzy.

  “Sorry to break the mood, but since … It’s been a long time, and I don’t take the pill. I’m clean, though. So much blood has been drawn from me …”

  She knew she was rambling, but the flow of words coming out of her mouth couldn’t be helped.

  Owen quickly looked at her as he was rummaging into his last drawer. “Dylan, you kept your brain. I lost mine in your mouth a while ago. I’m tested every six months, so I can tell you that you have nothing to worry about. But I think we have a couple of things to take care of and discuss before we risk bringing a baby into this world.”

  A baby? If she hadn’t been distracted by Owen finally producing a foil packet, she may have reneged on the entire thing. That wasn’t an aspect of life she wanted to explore at the moment. Instead, she focused on the warrior, walking with purpose toward her. Before her, blatantly sexual, he sheathed himself. She thought he would resume his seat on the chair, but instead, he extended his hand.

  “I don’t want you on your knees right now, baby. I want you as my equal. I can’t wait to be inside of you and in my arms.”

  Dylan’s throat turned to sand. How strange, he had seen her naked now. Well, she was naked now, and he had laid eye to all the marks while his erection stood thick and proud. Why was she hesitating? Maybe the fact that she was about to lay on her back and he would have an obstructed view of her?

  Her hand in his, she debated to find a way out, when Owen laid down on the sofa on the far end of the office, pulling her against him, her back against his muscled chest. Gently, he pushed aside the tangled mess of her hair and kissed the crook of her neck, letting his hand round her hip before cupping her breast. As quickly as it came, her apprehension faded into nothingness. How did he know? How could he guess that this first time, she would unexpectedly want to hide herself a little from his gaze? Desire pounded even harder through her veins and heat erased coldness and doubt. He kissed the back of her neck, sending shiver coursing through her. The rough skin of his hand scraped her nipple, before splaying against her belly and cupping her sex. Mimicking his hand, she slid hers between their bodies to circle his sheathed cock.

  Owen groaned and slid his lips to her ear. “You keep doing that and I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

  “And that would be a bad thing?”

  “Yes, very bad. But that’s up to you. And that’s why I’ll only beg once; let me in. I want to be inside of you, feel you gripping me, squeezing me. Baby, I’m desperate here. Have mercy.”

  Not that having this fierce warrior begging in her ear wasn’t a major turn on—wetness was already trickling down her thighs now—but to be honest, she was desperate, too. He had made her desperate. One amazing feat.

  Dylan hooked her leg over his, and lifted herself enough to allow him to take position. Slowly, poised at her entrance, he started to slide inside of her, stretching her in pleasurable agony. It was her turn to groan at the incoming pressure. Or was it him? Their bodies melded together as they joined, making it difficult to know where she ended and where he began.

  For a long moment, they stayed immobile, until the need for friction became unbearable. His strokes started long and easy, but it didn’t last for long as her nails dug into his hip. There was no need for words, it was loud and clear that the time for tender had long passed. His fingers rounded her hip and parted her folds, finding her clit and applying much needed pressure as he accelerated to a mad tempo.

  Release was much closer than she expected, and a few seconds later, her orgasm surprised her, making her scream, shouting for Owen to follow her.

  Bless this man, he did, biting her shoulder, as he howled her name and tensed at her back.

  Lost in pleasure, and surrounded by this man, Dylan let herself float. The joy of being human, woman, for the first time in a very long time. Desired and pleasured.

  There were only the two of them on this sofa and it was tempting to shut the entire world out. Forever. The piece of herself he gave her back was invaluable. Many others were still missing, but this turning point was giving hope.

  Still entangled, Owen rubbed his beard against her neck and shoulder. His hand was caressing her hip, idly tracing a carved pattern. And oddly enough, it didn’t disturb her as badly as she thought it would.

  She knew the symbol his fingers were tracing over and over again and it made her smile.

  “What? I hope that you’re smiling as you remember what an amazing lover I am.”

  That only made her smile even wider. Dylan turned her head. “Do you know the meaning of the symbol you’re tracing with your finger?”

  Immediately, his face turned somber and he jerked his hand away. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I wasn’t thinking …”

  Dylan sighed, grabbed his hand, and put it back on her hip. “I don’t mind. I found it funny that you were tracing that particular pattern without knowing what it meant.”

  Owen left his hand, but didn’t move again. “You mean that what that psycho did, the symbols he carved on you, they mean something?”

  Dylan shrugged. “Most of them. Those that didn’t make sense were probably because he didn’t have the time to finish them.”

  “So each of his victims, you have the same—”

  “No, some are the same, but he personalized the symbols to each person. It’s like a storytelling of the main traits of our personality. What made us so unique in his eyes.”

  “I fear to ask, but …” His fingers were feather soft against her as he traced the lines again.

  “It’s the symbol for warrior. It made me smile because I remember calling you that a couple of times before.”

  Owen relaxed a little. “Well, in my eyes, you’re the warrior. You went after a monster, you survived him, and now you’re going after his spawn.”

  Her smile grew wider. “Spawn?”

  Owen shrugged and resumed his caress. “For a lack of a better word.”

  Sighing, Dylan leaned back against him. “I need to get back to work. I don’t know for how long the creep will believe that I’m dead. And I don’t want to be surprised. There is also a risk that he’s playing dumb and already knows it’s a ruse, waiting to tear us apart as soon as we stick our necks out.”

  His arms came around her in a fierce hug. “Find the creep, and I will make sure we’re protected.”

  “I don’t want to bring Purgatory into the mix, Owen. I know Bea would order her right hand, Gabrielle, and the whole team to come help, but I fear that we may offer our creep the leak he craves.”

  “I agree. As you’re planning the attack, let me worry about defense.”

  Chapter 19

  There was no doubt about it. It had been hours since she had found that small thread, almost invisible to the untrained eye, but it was there.

  It had been painstakingly long work—peeling off the layers of security to find where that creep was working from—but there it was, in front of her eyes, Dylan had no more doubt about it. All threads served to hide a single access point. Now, the question was, why was the creep using a server in a brothel in Dallas?

  She had made her own verification on the infamous Maison Amaryllis. Quite an institution there. Hidden behind the p
retense of an upscale lounge bar and spa, it really offered specialized services for the rich and famous ladies of the entire county, and even beyond. Their website was pretty basic; pictures of the public areas, and certain treatment rooms that looked exactly like what they should look like—white, clean, and soothing. Nothing on their other services.

  It was when she tried to get into their server that Dylan raised an eyebrow. The security was beyond what was expected, even for an illicit enterprise. It was government level. Dylan didn’t doubt she could crack it, she had done more complicated and difficult before, yet something held her back, something that nagged at her. Also, when her mind was so entranced, when all his focus was on a single target, it was inevitable, signs of uncontrollable anxiety started to rise inside of her. The precursor signs of an ugly, upcoming storm brewing inside. So far, she had been too busy, too much on survival mode to even listen to them. Or too entranced in Owen to even care. But now, alone in Owen’s office, incoming symptoms didn’t lie.