Flyboy

by Nicole Austin

  “Stand down. Follow Hestia’s lead.” As if they weren’t already.

  She mouthed a thank-you into the camera. When Alexi drew back, her face went lax again and she squinted at him. “There’s a great bar down the street where we can have a drink.”

  He grumbled in frustration. “You’ve had too much drink. Shut up and listen.” He leaned forward again, this time whispering in Twyla’s ear. Jhett heard every word over the link. “What you seek will not remain in place for much longer. The work is almost completed. Once it is, he will be disposed of.”

  Twyla’s body jerked, but Alexi held her still. “You will leave here. Now! Don’t be a fool. Stay away from Stark.”

  Cutting his mic, Jhett cursed as he listened to Alexi give Twyla explicit details of what would be done to her if she were captured anywhere near Stark. The name of the place alone was enough to rack his body with tremors and bright bursts of remembered pain.

  Jesus Christ, no! Not Stark. Anywhere else he could handle, but not that particular chamber of horrors. The past threatened to engulf him. He sensed its jaws tightening on his mind, drawing him back to relive the nightmare of torture and captivity in the depraved pit of hell. Only one thing allowed him to stay in the present.

  Alexi’s knowledge of what went on there was too accurate and intimate. He spoke from having witnessed the events he described, the betraying bastard!

  “Stark is a place where women are not spared. You would be stripped bare, tied down and drugged. Then you would learn the true meaning of pain and discover how fragile the human body and mind are. Women captives have male interrogators.” Alexi chuckled, but there was no humor in the harsh sound. “Such a deficient word for describing the people trained in the most heinous of methods for extracting information from an unwilling subject.

  “Your drugged mind will twist the pain into something different, giving you a dark and warped feeling of pleasure until you break, spilling all your secrets. Skilled hands that previously worked as a healer, a medical professional, will use those talents for more sinister purposes.

  “Electrical charges will be applied to your sensitive nipples, clitoris and other spots where sexual pleasure is felt. Your vagina and rectum will not be spared. You will be raped, forced into orgasms your body craves and your mind fights against. Those who make it out of Stark alive are mere scarred, broken shells of a person, no longer quite human or whole. Sex will no longer provide orgasm or pleasure without subjecting your body to pain and forced intercourse.”

  Jhett wanted to scream, cover his ears and block out the horrible words. Claw out his own eyes that stung from the images now flowing within his mind. Visions of Twyla beaten, bruised, broken. The idea of her facing the things he had firmed his resolve. He had to keep her working behind the scenes, far away from any danger, even if doing so meant confronting his past.

  Her body shook and tears streamed down her cheeks by the time Alexi stopped talking and released her. When he stepped away, Alexi gave her a look full of regret, turned and disappeared down the street.

  Jhett vowed to make the sorry motherfucker pay. One way or another, Alexi would get what was coming to him.

  He tapped the com. “Get Hestia back home.” His voice sounded almost as defeated and tired as he felt, but a new sense of purpose filled Jhett. He would protect Twyla at all costs.

  Chapter Nine

  To say the team became a bit tense over the next few weeks would be a major understatement. All joking, fun and playtime were cast aside as they all focused on completing the mission. The steady rise in anxiety had everyone on edge. The constant sexual friction arcing between her and Jhett only made matters worse. If something didn’t give soon the pressure would make someone snap.

  There were no two ways about it—they all needed some physical relief. A good fight or fuck, either one would do the trick. She preferred the latter option but doubted that would happen any time soon. Jhett didn’t look at her anymore, much less touch her. In fact, he avoided her as though she had a deadly plague.

  With each new piece of intel gained, they formed an action plan. Once the location where Hillman was being held had been determined, the team moved closer. A whole lot closer. The grimy windows from the back bedroom provided a clear view of the compound. Blueprints, diagrams and aerial satellite photos covered the walls around the new apartment. Guard schedules and routines were recorded down to the second.

  She had tapped into the closed-circuit security cameras at Stark. To say she learned a great deal about the situation through the images would be a supreme understatement. Interrogation at the compound involved both pain and sex. The beautiful interrogator appeared to be very successful in using her body to get male captives to reveal whatever she wanted to know. In the evening, when the higher-ups left for the day, the guards brought in whores to make the night shift go faster. She was getting an interesting education in sexual kinks. Some of what she witnessed turned her on while others had her shivering in disgust.

  With everything in place, all they waited for was Jhett to issue the extraction order. Why he waited had become a subject of great debate and stress among the team.

  “I’ve got a plan. This one is foolproof.”

  Tank always had a plan. The man kept coming up with wild ideas and the rest of the team kept shutting him down. At least his detailed ideas helped to keep the boredom at bay. “What is it this time? Shall we use the satellites to signal an alien space ship?”

  His expression turned serious as the fool considered the idea. Twyla groaned. “Well, what is it?”

  “Okay. Jeez, Twyla. You’re no fun anymore.” The genuine disappointment in his voice was dispelled a moment later by a new rush of excitement. “Hammer doesn’t sleep much. When he does, it’s a soldier’s sleep with one eye open and one hand wrapped around the grip of his sidearm.”

  Now if that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black. None of them slept more than a few hours at a time, and they all kept a gun within easy reach. Jhett had turned into an insomniac though. If he got an hour of sleep each day it was a miracle. When he did manage to sleep, more often than not it was fitful and disrupted by nightmares. And that damn gun. He even took the Sig Sauer pistol with him when he showered. She felt certain it would start showing signs of rust soon. “No one around here sleeps.” Including me.

  He continued on as if she had not interrupted. “Homerun is about the only person on this planet who has a chance of getting close while he’s asleep. We send Homerun in with some rope, have him tie Hammer down. Dodger and I will assist. Once we have him secured then you come in and fuck him senseless.”

  Her mouth hung open, catching flies. Twyla knew it had to be, but was helpless to do anything about the situation. Tank’s outrageous plan left her speechless. Even more shocking though, his plan made her horny. That quick, her blood heated, her breasts swelled and her nipples ached. A rush of arousal dampened her panties.

  Oh great, they’d rubbed off on her. She’d become as sick as the rest of this rag-tag crew. That she considered his insane idea gave testament to her decreased lack of mental balance.

  Two warm fingers lifted her chin to close her mouth. “You okay, Twyla?” Tank’s big hands rubbed her upper arms. While her internal temperature had exceeded the boiling point, her skin had turned cold and he attempted to rub some warmth into her chilled flesh. “You’re freezing.”

  She shook her head then shot to her feet. “Holy shit. You are freakin’ certifiable, Tank.” She caught sight of his accomplices peeking around the corner. Both wearing long faces. “You’re all nuts. No way in hell will I rape Jhett.”

  Dodger threw back his head and laughed. The other two were quick to join in on the joke, which she must be the brunt of because Twyla saw nothing humorous about the whole thing.

  “R-rape…” Homerun sputtered.

  “Yeah right!” Dodger chimed in.

  “Come on, Twyla. You’re not that dense. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that the two of y
ou are dying for another go at each other. What the hell’s wrong with some mattress calisthenics if it will relieve some of the tension around here?”

  Exactly what was wrong with the idea of getting busy with Jhett? Oh yeah, he didn’t want her. Once had been enough to prove the point since he’d done everything shy of quit the mission to avoid touching her since the day they’d fucked.

  She shook her head again, trying to dispel the image of Jhett tied to the bed—naked and at her mercy. When it didn’t work, she turned on Tank. She had to force her clenched fist open and held it palm up before the idiot. “Give me some cash. I need a fucking drink…or ten.”

  “Jhett will have a fit if you go into a bar alone. We’ll come with—”

  He must have seen a strong indicator of her anger flash in her eyes, because he cut off his words, reached in his pocket then stuffed a wad of cash in her hand. “Be careful, Twyla. Jhett will have our asses if anything happens to you.”

  With a harrumph, she turned and stormed out of the room. “Keep an eye on the security monitors,” she tossed over her shoulder and slammed the door behind her.

  Hours later, Twyla tossed and turned on the small, too-soft mattress as sleep eluded her. The only thing she’d proven was that no amount of alcohol would cure insomnia. Quite the opposite. While her body may be exhausted, her mind refused to be calm. She tried meditation but wasn’t able to shut off her thoughts, which continued to race in circles back to the same thing—sex. With Jhett. Hot, sweaty, raw and primal sex. Fuck-each-other-through-the-mattress sex.

  Maybe the guys weren’t the ones who were warped. Perhaps the true culprit had been her all along. If she wasn’t completely gone yet, the sexual fever raging through her body would soon drive her over the edge.

  The time had arrived to take matters into her own hands in a very literal way. Tossing aside the light blanket, Twyla pulled her cotton nightshirt over her head. Her skin felt stretched tight, every inch sensitized by need, and electricity hummed from one excited nerve ending to the next. Running her palms over turgid nipples elicited a moan. Oh yeah. An orgasm was just what the doctor ordered. Too bad she hadn’t packed some toys.

  Her legs shifted against each other, full of restless energy. She pinched her nipples, shivering as a bolt of pleasure-pain shot straight to her pussy, making the inner walls tremble with distress at being empty. She itched to be filled. Since Jhett wouldn’t cooperate, he left her no choice other than to take care of herself.

  While she longed to draw out the sensual experience, making the most of each caress, urgency pushed her forward. She would go for the quick fix right now and save lingering play for when she wasn’t in such desperate need of release.

  She spread her legs wide, letting her knees fall to the side. Her swollen labia were tugged apart, opening her damp folds. With no further preparation or finesse, she thrust two fingers, twisting her wrist to achieve maximum penetration. Her pulse pounded as Twyla fucked herself hard and fast, fingertips abrading that special spot along her upper wall. Her other hand remained busy pinching and tweaking her nipple.

  “Ah, yes!” Each thrust of her hips met the punishing drive of her fingers and the heel of her hand pressed against her clit, showing no mercy. Regardless of how hard she chased the orgasm it remained just out of reach, requiring more. Needing Jhett.

  She didn’t give up. Twyla tucked her chin to her chest, tightened her abdominal muscles and performed an abbreviated crunch while tugging her breast forward. Soft lips opened over the puckered areola and teeth clamped down on her nipple. A flick of her tongue over the sensitive bud flooded her fingers with a correlating flash of hot juices.

  Oh dear Lord. Still not enough. She knew nothing other than Jhett’s cock would be able to quench her burning need. Twyla whimpered his name, her mouth vibrated against her nipple. She fingered herself hard, lashed her nipple with her tongue, reached for the precipice.

  The door slammed against the wall. A tall figure in the hall, illuminated from behind, watched her struggle for the orgasm.

  “Jesus H. Christ!”

  She had no problem recognizing the owner of that growl. Jhett stepped farther into the room, his gaze traveling over her body, igniting new fires. She could see him well now. Sexual energy rolled off him in waves, buffeting Twyla, driving the ache higher. The door banged closed behind him.

  With a wet pop, her nipple slipped from between her lips. “Either help me or get the fuck out.” He didn’t move, didn’t respond for what felt like an eternity. When he finally did, he thrust her efforts into overdrive.

  “Suck your nipple. Bite it with your teeth.”

  The order, spoken in a harsh tone, sent shivers racing down her spine. Powerless to refuse, Twyla sucked her nipple into her mouth. The intense scrutiny and passion darkening his blue eyes made every muscle in her body clench. Before she realized his intention, Jhett’s thick fingers wrapped around hers, one fucking into her pussy on the next thrust and dragged along her sensitive tissues.

  “Come for me, honey.”

  That was all it took. His sensual demand tossed her over the brink into a mind-blowing orgasm that curled her toes. She barely heard his words as the earth shook beneath her.

  With a primal roar, he pulled their fingers from her pussy. She detected the rustle of clothing, then the mattress dipped and his warm skin covered Twyla. For the space of several frantic heartbeats he merely stared into her eyes before his hands slid beneath her ass, lifting her pelvis from the bed. The broad head of his cock slid along her slit, coming to a rest at her still hungry entrance.

  Leaning forward, he took her lips in a savage kiss. Their tongues danced and twirled as he plundered the deepest recesses of her mouth. He kissed her with more passion than she’d ever imagined possible. With a sudden plunge, his cock forced its way to her core, hard and fast. He didn’t break the kiss or give her time to adjust. Jhett mounted an all out balls-to-the-wall attack, pounding her body with brutal force. Their bodies slapped together as each strained to breathe.

  “You’re so wet for me. So hot and tight around my cock.” His praise melted something in the vicinity of her heart. Twyla trembled, cried his name, begged for more.

  Unexpected, a second, more powerful orgasm slammed into her. She cried his name, fingers digging into the flexing cheeks of his ass as her body shattered. Jhett kept fucking her, propelling her higher than ever before, drawing out the pleasure.

  With one hard thrust, he slammed balls-deep, parting the walls of her still convulsing pussy. His thick shaft swelled, ripping a scream from her lips. That’s when the most amazing thing happened. Jhett’s iron-clad control snapped. He threw his head back and an animalistic howl rose from the back of his throat.

  She lost track of how many times she came as he powered into her, fucking her as if their lives depended on it until he had a forceful climax.

  Then it happened. In that vulnerable, unguarded flicker of an instant, Twyla understood what Danu had alluded to on so many occasions. Incandescent light and love shone bright enough for the whole world to see. Embodied inside Jhett lived the beautiful soul of her love. The man she’d loved in each and every life she’d lived. Her past, her future—her everything.

  Twyla may have fallen asleep or passed out, she wasn’t certain. When awareness returned, she found herself alone in the bed, shivering. The most heart-wrenching cry shattered the quiet. She raced naked through the apartment, ready to battle what had become a familiar opponent. Prepared to do whatever it would take to save her man.

  She found him crouched in a corner of the small kitchen rolled into a tight ball, head tucked down and covered by his arms. This nightmare must have been worse than normal. A glossy sheen of sweat covered his bare chest, combined with blood from a cut on his left shoulder. His entire body was tensed and jerked as if he was being struck, yet a hard-on tented his pants. No matter how much he muttered about drugs, pain, rape and sex, she didn’t understand what had happened. Did the atrocities Alexi had told h
er about have something to do with his nightmares?

  “Oh Jhett. What have you done to yourself? I wish you’d let me get a look at that cut. You might need stitches.”

  Over the weeks they’d been living in close quarters the team had learned not to touch him when Jhett got caught in the past. He would not recognize anyone and responded by fighting for his life using lethal force. Twyla had become the only one who could get close and reach through the terror of his frequent nightmares. What she said didn’t matter. She just had to be patient and simply talk or sing until her voice pulled him back to the present then watch him limp away to lick his wounds in private.

  That was the hardest part—witnessing the beating his ego took and not being permitted to help.

  None of the team members had worked with Jhett after his discharge from the military so they didn’t know what had happened to him. They all had theories though, some more plausible than others. She knew only one thing for certain—horrible, unspeakable trauma had messed up his psyche.

  “I’m here, flyboy. You’re safe. Those old demons can’t touch you.”

  She wished he’d let her touch him, hold him, but knew better. The one time she’d tried had resulted in a black eye. Afterward, when he’d returned to the apartment, he’d pushed until she told him what had happened. Finding out he’d hit her had been a heavy burden to bear. He’d fallen in a dark funk that lasted several days longer than her shiner had.

  With each episode, he was slower to rebound. Twyla stayed close until he finally let her bandage the wound before he slipped off into the night. She knew he wouldn’t be back for at least twelve hours, refusing to discuss whatever tormented his soul. He had to face this down before it grew big enough to affect the mission.

  Her heart bled for him. She loved him, would give her life to spare Jhett from the past, but the cost of failure would be far reaching, having a profound impact on all mankind. How was she to balance the love of her life—her very heart and soul—against the fate of the entire world?