by Aliyah Burke
All of that took a backseat, however, when his gaze fell to the woman who swayed as if she heard music from somewhere—her focus on the items strewn out before her on a bench table. She wore a pair of white cut-off jean shorts that were sinful in the way they cupped the firm globes of her ass. The colour offset her mouth-watering legs all too well. A ribbed turquoise spaghetti-strapped tank top hugged her upper body. Her hair was gathered loosely up off her neck, and he could see a leather barrette with a design on it holding the silken strands, the excess moving along with her. He had to swallow a few times to get control of his reaction.
Damn, I’m like a randy boy around her. Hard as nails and ready to come at a second’s notice.
“Zémire?” He spoke softly so as not to scare her.
No answer and he moved slightly to the side and approached. Hooked over one ear he saw the earbud to her mp3 player, which sat tucked down the front of her shirt. He cleared his throat and she still didn’t acknowledge him.
No, instead she continued to bob her head and use the sticks in her hands as if she were a drummer with a full set before her. Her eyes were closed and he just watched her for a moment, totally entranced by her self-expression. Zémire truly was a beautiful woman.
Yanking his gaze from her, he looked at the table before her. Charts and maps lay there along with a notepad full of scribbles he didn’t understand. He looked back at her and chuckled when she finally realised she wasn’t alone in the barn.
“L’enfer sanglant!” she blurted, clasping a hand over her heart, and jumping back. “What are you thinking? You almost gave me a heart attack.” Zémire tugged her earphones out, removed the device from her shirt and laid it all on the table.
He held up his hands and gave her a disarming smile. “Sorry. I called your name but you…were into your music.”
“So that justifies scaring the crap out of me?”
“No. I didn’t mean to.” He stepped closer and gestured with his chin to the stuff on the table. “What is all this?”
“I’ve been doing some thinking about where or who may have taken BB.”
Fingers moving the sheets around, he saw star charts, plant guides and more. “And this is what?” He was grateful her flare of temper at his parents’ had seemed to have subsided.
“This…this is what I’m using.” It didn’t make any sense to him so he looked at her and cocked a brow. She understood his lack of comprehension. “Okay, look,” she said, licking her lips before turning her attention back to the mass of papers. “BB was going to a part of the mountainous state of Guerrero. That’s here,” she indicated it with her finger, “along the Pacific Ocean. So I pulled up some maps of the area.” Her other hand touched a haphazard pile.
“You’ve been busy.”
“Well, yeah. When I got home, there was a man waiting for me on the porch.”
Protectiveness surged and he stepped closer to her. “Who was he? What’d he want?”
She waved away his questions not even taking her concentration from the things before her on the table.
That wouldn’t do. With one hand he reached for her face and using two fingers brought her head around. Her large eyes made him melt. In that moment, Cort realised he had no chance of ever finding a woman who evoked such a range of emotions in him as Zémire did. Or such powerful ones. There existed something within her that—well, to be blunt—made him feel.
“Who was he, Zémire?”
She sighed and lifted herself onto the table. His eyes honed in and lingered over her incredibly toned legs. He stepped between them and drew her flush to him, her legs along his hips. Eyes locked on hers, he waited for his answer.
“His name is Agent Michaels from the FBI’s Dallas field office. I guess they’d been keeping an eye out for my name to come through customs and he came out to talk to me.”
It rankled to think another agency would send an agent out to talk to her. He just wanted to lock her away in a room from the rest of the world, so nothing could hurt her. “What’d y’all talk about?”
She snorted and sucked on her teeth for a second. “He wanted to know if I knew anything about the EPR or the GEA.”
He frowned and repositioned himself to sit beside her on the table, needing to give her his full attention and not focus on how he longed to strip her of those tight clothes and sink his cock into her neatly trimmed pussy. Over and over as she screamed in pleasure. Get it together, Kysenzki. “I don’t know those groups. What are they? Or who?”
“The EPR is the Ejército Popular Revolucionario, based in Guerrero. They’re a leftist insurgency group. But they mostly deal in drug trafficking. Heroin, I believe, is their poison of choice.”
Drugs. That didn’t bode well. The People’s Revolutionary Army was the English translation of the EPR, he knew she hadn’t translated it for him because he spoke Spanish. “And the GEA?”
“Ahh them, a breakaway splinter group of the EPR, known as Grupo Ecologista Armado.”
He translated again. The Armed Ecologist Group. “And again with the drugs?”
“Yes. When I told him I didn’t know anything about either group, he left after giving me his card and telling me to call him if I could think of anything that may be relevant. So then I printed off all I could and came out here to think and mull over things.”
“Let me call Taber and see what he knows about these groups.” Withdrawing his cell, he called his brother. Taber was the middle of the trio of Kysenzki boys and employed by the DEA.
“Kysenzki.”
“Hey, Tabby.” Cort slipped off the table and began to walk around the barn.
“Cort. Hang on a sec.” There were some unintelligible noises before his brother returned. “What’s up?”
“Sorry to disturb you, but I needed to know what, if anything, you know about the EPR and GEA.”
“What are you dealing with that has you involved in groups on our terrorist watch list?”
“Not me directly. You remember BB Gibson?”
“Yeah, he was in your class. I remember his parents died a few years back so it was just him and his sister.”
“Zémire. Long story short, we think he’s missing and the FBI asked her about those groups. I need whatever you know, Tabby.”
“Wait a second. You and Zémire?”
“Don’t start.” He froze at the light caress delivered to his back by Zémire. She moved around to his front and slid her hands up his chest. “How…how long do you need to get all you know on them?”
“Tomorrow good enough for you?”
Zémire’s hand cupped his erection through his jeans, encouraging it to go from semi-hard to rock hard. He almost lost it when the tip of her pink tongue sneaked out and dampened her lips.
“Yes…that’s fine.” He clenched his jaw as she undid the button of his fly. She brushed away his half hearted attempt to stop her.
“Tomorrow then, and I’m gonna want to know all about you two.” Click. Taber hung up, leaving Cort free to enjoy the woman currently on her knees before him, his cock in her hands.
He closed his phone with a snap and a groan. “Zémire.”
Her fingers curled about him. As she stroked, the heat from her palm singed him. Up and down. Slowly. He swore he grew harder with her ministrations. The grip was neither too light nor too hard—what it was, was distracting as hell.
“I have a confession to make, Cortland Kysenzki.” Her warm breath streamed across the tip of his sensitive shaft.
His phone fell to the floor of the barn, forgotten. “What’s that?” he forced out through clenched teeth.
“I’ve had fantasies about doing this. About being before you like this and taking you into my mouth. What you tasted like and how you felt sliding in and out of my mouth.”
His cock was harder than the floor he stood upon. It throbbed with need. “Jesus, Zémire, you’re killing me.” He fisted his hands into her hair. “Show me.”
She licked her lips and eliminated the rest of the dis
tance separating them, pressing her full lips to the head of his aching cock. Before he could recover from the innocence of her touch, she’d taken him in, her tongue ran along the crown and down the rigid shaft.
“Mmmm,” she mumbled around him.
He locked his knees merely to remain upright despite the onslaught of sensations hitting him. Her touch alternated from light to heavy. All the while she sucked, teasing his head with light grazes of her teeth. With a mind of their own his hips began to move, sliding back and forth in the wetness of her mouth.
A mouth that was like heaven and hell combined. In his wildest dreams there would have been no way for him to imagine this intensity or the myriad feelings from having her sucking his cock. Cort stared down at her and got lost in the imagery of his shaft slipping past her plump lips and vanishing, only to reappear covered in her saliva, shiny. Her eyes, more bronze in the barn light, smouldered with lust. Her draw on him increased and he could feel the answering tingle in his balls.
His grip tightened and he powered his hips faster. Zémire moved her hands to the backs of his thighs and dug her nails in. The sting of them through his jeans couldn’t begin to take away from the pleasure surrounding him.
Harder she sucked.
Faster she moved.
His mind whirled as pleasure overtook him. It didn’t matter how fast he thrust, she took it, her eyes hungry for more.
“Fuck!” he hollered, moments before erupting in her mouth.
She never relented and only when she’d taken all of his release did she loosen the hold she had on him with her mouth and push to her feet. Satisfaction aglow in her gaze, she smiled and licked her lips.
“Better than I imagined,” she said, her voice lower than normal.
“Yeah.” He fisted himself. Slowly he stroked his still hard and wet shaft. Her eyes blazed with answering hunger. “Strip and bend over the table,” he ordered.
Zémire tucked some hair behind her ear as she focussed solely on his erection and undid her shorts. Then she turned around and pushed them down. His cock jumped at the sight of her barely there pink thong, which soon followed the direction of her shorts—to the floor. Still without looking at him, she approached the bench and bent over it, her firm ass raised as if in offering. He stroked faster.
Seconds later, he was buried balls deep in her soaking pussy, her screams of pleasure filling the air. Gripping her hips, he pounded endlessly into her.
“Uh, uh, uh,” she cried with each thrust.
“Mine,” he growled, not caring in the slightest that she may not want to be treated like a piece of property. But as far as he was concerned, she was just that. His.
“More…harder…oh, damn it, Cort…please!”
He blinked away the sweat and gave her what she needed. What he needed. Her tight muscles milked him with every forward and back motion. He couldn’t take it anymore. Her hips rolled and she pressed back into his pistoning motion. Her hands gripped the edge of the table and her pants had become high-pitched.
She came with a rush around him, coating his cock in her thick cream. Internal muscles rippled along his shaft and he lost it. Five more powerful thrusts and he exploded inside her. His release was so intense his vision flickered and his knees weakened. Panting with exhaustion, he sank against her, pinning her between him and the table.
For a short time they stayed like that, connected. His heart pounded out a tattoo against her back. Moving the bits of her hair that had sneaked free of the barrette to the side, he pressed kisses along the back of her neck and along her shoulder blade.
He withdrew and carefully put himself away. Buttoning up his fly, he looked over at Zémire to find her fastening her shorts. Staring at her, he felt another wave of desire swarm him.
I would never get tired of looking at her, nor would I ever not be aroused by her.
“Zémire,” he uttered.
She glanced at him. “What did Taber say?”
Damn woman was well versed in changing the subject. But he didn’t want to change it. Taber would call back and they could deal with things then. Honestly, there wasn’t anything they could do this night.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart. We’ll discuss this later. Right now, I want you in bed.”
Her gaze turned pensive and he heard her mumble, “Once more won’t hurt.” She crossed to him and lifted her arms around his neck. “Let’s go to bed.”
And they did. Enjoying one another’s bodies until they could stay awake no longer. When he woke in the morning he was alone. He rolled out of bed and tugged on his jeans. After splashing some water on his face, he ambled up the hall to see if she was there. She wasn’t. But he did hear her tinkling laughter and raked a hand through his hair as he sneaked a peek out of the window.
What the hell? Outside in the front stood Zémire, his brother Taber, and Taber's woman, Serefina. He stepped outside while tugging his shirt on over his head.
“There you are, sleepyhead,” Taber said with a smile.
“Tabby. What are you doing here?” he asked, hopping the steps and hugging his brother. “Serefina,” he said with a nod.
She moved her gaze up and down him before saying, “Cort.”
He watched her move off with Zémire and the two women were quickly laughing and chatting like old friends. Taber cleared his throat and Cort faced his sibling.
“What are you doing here, Tabby?”
“We were on vacation in New Mexico when you called and we decided to visit you and the folks. Plus, I wanted to see what was going on with you and Zémire.”
“What made you think anything was?”
Taber laughed. Then stared at him only to laugh again. “Oh, I don’t know, brother. Perhaps the way you sounded when you said her name. Or the fact you came out of her house this mornin’ pulling on a shirt.” He crossed his arms and arched a blond brow. “Mom and Dad know she’s your woman?”
Cort rotated so he could see Zémire. “I’m sure they have an inkling of that. Sadie called Mom yesterday and told her she’d seen us kissing in the park.”
“Kissing in the park?”
Glaring at his younger brother, Cort sighed. “This is gonna be a real long convo if you insist on repeating what I say. Zémire and I had a thing one night, two months ago. Before you ask, yes, at BB’s party. Can we talk about it later? I really need to know what you do about the EPR and the GEA.”
Taber gave him a trademark Kysenzki smirk. “Fine. We can talk shop now but I want to know all about you and Zémire.” He smacked him on the shoulder. “I like her for you, Cort.”
“Yeah? I kinda like her for me as well.”
The two brothers stood shoulder to shoulder and watched their women as they talked.
* * * *
Zémire sat along the thick railing of the back porch and rested her head against a pillar. Dinner was over and she’d just stepped out for a few moments of air.
“Everything okay, Zémire?” Serefina asked, her figure materialising beside her in the fading light.
“Yes, sorry for being such a bad hostess, I just…just…”
“No need to apologise for anything. You’re worried about your brother. Never feel bad for doing that.”
She liked Serefina and thought she was a good match for Taber whom she’d always pegged to be the biggest playboy of the Kysenzki brothers. The way that man looked at Serefina told her there was only one woman for him.
“Both Taber and I have contacts in Mexico and we’ve put in calls to see what else we can do to help.”
“Thank you.”
Serefina sat on the rail by Zémire’s feet. “Don’t mention it. I hope it helps.”
The door opened and the men stepped through. “What are you two doing out here?” Cort asked, moving close to Zémire’s side.
“I was telling her how you don’t like me,” Serefina said easily, lifting her face to accept Taber’s kiss.
Zémire frowned and glanced at Cort. He snorted and crossed his arms over hi
s chest.
“I don’t not like you, Serefina. I’m just mad you threatened to shoot me.”
“You were a potential threat to what was mine.” Her response was unrepentant.
Eyes flickering between the two, Zémire struggled to understand what was going on. Taber’s laughter clued her in that it wasn’t as serious as they let on.
“Haven’t you forgiven her yet, Cort?” Taber asked.
“Hell no, Tabby. She threatened to shoot off my dick!”
Zémire snapped her gaze to Serefina who had a half-grin on her face. The amount of protectiveness that swarmed her at the thought of this other woman drawing down on Cort stunned her.
“Wasn’t so much of a threat as it was a promise,” Serefina corrected. Then she shrugged. “I didn’t, though, and I’ve never pulled a gun on you since.” She leant forwards and swung her legs. “You want we should kiss and make up?”
Cort just laughed, which threw Zémire even more. This must be a common thing for them. Even so, the idea of him kissing Serefina rubbed her the wrong way.
“Never apologised either.”
“That’s true,” Serefina acknowledged. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve pulled one on Taber. What about you, Zémire,” Serefina drew her into the conversation. “Ever wanted to shoot him?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “He tends to be a bit pushy.”
Cort harrumphed while the others laughed. She felt his hand slide across the back of her neck and his fingers began a massage. Her first instinct was to stiffen and pull away. She’d been able to get past him being there by telling herself they couldn’t possibly know Cort had spent the night in her bed. Naked.
Her pussy gushed and she shifted, the hard rail beneath her only adding to her discomfort. She ignored it and allowed him to keep touching her. It didn’t seem like Taber or Serefina cared one way or the other. And she enjoyed his touch.
“He is that,” Taber said with affectionate humour.
They remained outside for a while and chatted. Before they left, Taber kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “Stay strong, little sister.”
