Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  She needed, needed something. The tension was tearing through her, marking her with the perspiration that dotted her flesh, with her muscles straining for relief. There had to be relief.

  “Fuck me, damn you.” The words tore from her lips as her hands moved to his head. She felt like an animal, a creature that hungered for this, only for this.

  His fingers moved, thrust, fucked inside her with deep, strong movements as his lips suckled at her clit. His tongue stroked over it, rasping it until she froze at the wave of sensation that suddenly rose inside her. Her eyes flared wide, her muscles locked against it. When it crashed over her, it wasn’t so bad. It was a shudder of pleasure rather than a blinding, horrifying loss of consciousness.

  “Ah, Riss.” His head pressed against her abdomen as she shuddered through the little shocks of pleasure, his voice filled with somber regret as his lashes lifted from his eyes and he watched her with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.

  “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered, her hips still moving, the need still tearing through her vagina, her womb. “Micah, do something; please do something.”

  He rose to his knees, his fingers sliding from her body even as she tried to hold him inside.

  Only then did she notice the condom he had somehow managed to work over his heavy, thick erection. His hand stroked over it, spreading her juices over the latex before he gripped the base tight and tensed before her.

  “Are you sure, Risa?” His hand gripped her thigh, lifted her leg until her knees were bent, her legs spread wide. “Be sure, love.”

  She watched the wide, throbbing head as he came over her. Watched as he drew her hips up along his thighs as he knelt before her. The wide crest of his erection parted the glistening folds of her sex as she licked her lips and pressed closer.

  “Slow and easy,” he said again.

  The heavy head pressed against her opening, parted it, and began to work inside her. His thighs widened as he came over her, propping his body up with one arm, allowing her to watch. His hips moved, shifted, working his cock inside her, stretching her until she thought she was going to burn alive from the slow, steady impalement.

  It was too much. It wasn’t enough. The clawing, vicious talons of lust were tearing through her until she was begging him, arching, her hips working against his, thrusting and pressing him deeper as she fought back the tears.

  It was terrifying, but she couldn’t stop. She wanted, she needed, but the dark void that seemed to rush around her was too frightening, too filled with the unknown, with sensations she couldn’t accept.

  Above her, Micah groaned her name. His lips lowered to her nipples. He sucked them until she fought the gathering void again. He kissed her, his lips slanting over hers as she ate at his, until the void threatened to rush through her.

  “Risa, let go, baby.” His voice was dark, shattered with his own pleasure. “I’ll hold you; I swear it.”

  Her head shook. She didn’t understand what he wanted, couldn’t make sense of her own body, let alone his words.

  “Risa, let it go!” His voice strengthened as his hips churned, his cock thrusting harder, deeper, stroking her into a storm of never-ending sensations. Darkness gathered behind her eyes as the wave rose again, stronger, harder.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders; her head dug into the mattress as she fought it, struggled against it. She screamed against it, and once again, when it took her, it wasn’t so bad. She fought it back until it was no more than a small surge, racing through her, shivering over her body as he gave a hard, harsh groan and shuddered above her before stilling.

  His breathing was harsh, heavy. His cock inside her pulsed violently, so hard it felt like iron inside her. But he wasn’t coming. She could feel the difference, knew it. He wanted to come, he needed to, but he hadn’t.

  The storm eased inside her, leaving her strangely bereft now, as his forehead touched her shoulder and he shuddered against her.

  “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, his voice heavy. “I’m so sorry.”

  She blinked up at him as he moved from her, pulling free of her as a hard surge of renewed need shook her body. He was moving from the bed before she could get a handle on the pulse of hunger. His hands ran over his hair as he glanced back at her, his expression heavy, his cock still fully erect.

  He hadn’t come.

  The thought slashed through her like a dull knife. Somehow, she had failed. He hadn’t released. He hadn’t known pleasure.

  She swallowed tightly, staring back at him, and he paced to the bathroom.

  “Don’t you move!” He turned, pointed his finger back at her, his expression bleak and commanding. “I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded, but as the door closed, she jumped from the bed as silently as possible. It took only a moment to jerk her dress over her head, her wrap around her shoulders. She carried her purse and her shoes and she escaped.

  Humiliation burned inside her, tightened in her chest, and left her shaking as she took the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. She raced down them, holding back her sobs, fighting the ultrasensitivity in her body and screaming inside her mind.

  She had failed. A pity fuck, she thought. The big, tough SEAL had felt sorry for her. He had seen her fears and had tried to make it better. But he couldn’t get off. He couldn’t come with her. That was a pity fuck. She was certain it was, and she couldn’t bear it.

  After she waved down a cab and gave the driver the address for her apartment, she huddled in the cab and thanked God that she never had to face Micah again.

  He should have done as her father’s friend had done. He should have taken her from behind.

  A tear fell. The memory attacked her, sharp, brutal, the voice at her ear. Ugly little bitch. I’d never get off if I had to look at your face.

  She flinched, covered her mouth, and held back her sobs as she stared into the brightly lit streets of the city. She had hoped she could survive just one night of pleasure. She had been wrong.

  CHAPTER 5

  MICAH WAS IN a lousy mood the next morning when he showed up at the Federal Building and made his way to the rooms that had been set aside for this morning’s meeting.

  He strode through the narrow underground corridor to the appropriate door, knocked, and waited for it to open. Stepping into the darkened room, he glanced through the hidden window in the next room and felt his fists clenching at the sight of Risa, her grandmother Abigail Clay, and their attorney as they sat silently in the other room.

  The lawyer looked up, scowled into the mirror that hid the viewers from sight, and glanced at his watch.

  Micah’s Elite Ops team was there, as well as Clint, Reno, Kell, Ian, and Kira. The others cast Micah several odd looks before turning back to the window that looked into the consultation room.

  “We have the rest of her doctor’s reports.” Jordan, a.k.a. Live Wire, commander of the group, slapped a file in his hand. “Can you believe that old biddie in there browbeat the doctor that’s been overseeing Risa’s care? She had no idea of the long-term effects of the Whore’s Dust.”

  Micah snapped the file open, read it quickly, and felt a boiling rage building inside him.

  “Does she know yet?” he asked as he read the reports on the tests that Risa was required to take monthly. The presence of the Whore’s Dust in her system hadn’t abated, and put last night into clear perspective for Micah.

  It didn’t help the rage building inside him but made it understandable. The Whore’s Dust created an almost violent reaction during intercourse, especially for a woman. The explosive clash of sensations was often terrifying; the sexual release, if it was even attained, was stronger, and only built the need higher.

  This was how Risa had handled it. She didn’t let it happen. The toys in her drawer didn’t help. And the night before, in his arms, she had fought her release with such strength that if she’d orgasmed, it had been no more than a weak facsimile of what it could have been.

&nb
sp; Damn her.

  Damn Fuentes and that fucking drug.

  “According to her doctor, and we had to send Nik in to talk to him, Abigail Clay threatened his reputation, both public and private, if he informed her granddaughter of the effects. She stated Risa was terrified enough of her own body; she didn’t want to make matters worse.”

  In ways, Micah almost agreed with her.

  “Who’s going in to talk to them first?” he asked.

  He knew what had to be done. There was a contract on Risa’s life, and the enemy Micah had been searching for for six years was rumored to have been given the job. The same man who had killed his mother, and ultimately his father, was now waiting for the opportunity to slice into Risa as well.

  It was tied directly to her kidnapping. The U.S. government had known there were other men involved, especially an as yet unnamed scientist who had been trying to reproduce the date rape drug after the death of Fuentes’s scientist.

  Diego Fuentes hadn’t known the scientist. All he had known was that his contact, Jansen Clay, was working with the other man to re-create the drug. Diego had blocked them several times, simply out of greed. He wanted to control the creation he had bankrolled. He hadn’t wanted others’ greedy fingers involved in it.

  But why strike at Risa now? The only answer was her medical records. Someone, outside of the government, was finding a way to keep watch on both her medical and psychological files, because in the past months she had begun having flashes of memory. Voices, shadowy faces. She was remembering more than just a hazy, distant dreamlike version of what had happened to her that night and during her stay at the asylum. She was actually beginning to remember details.

  “I’ll go in first with the attorney from the Department of Justice,” Jordan finally answered Micah. “We’ll need Risa to sign off on this, otherwise, the DOJ will walk away from her. If he walks out, then we’re pulled off the assignment. Let’s pray she listens to reason.”

  Oh, she would listen to reason, one way or the other, Micah promised silently.

  He laid the file aside and focused on her now. She wasn’t wearing makeup. Her hair had been pulled back from her face and tied at the back of her neck. Her eyes were shadowed with dark circles, her lips were compressed, and there was a flush mantling her cheeks—remnants of lust. He well understood that, though he knew the strength of it was more from the Whore’s Dust than her inability to climax the night before.

  Hell, if he’d had that doctor’s report he would have known what the hell was wrong with her. Instead, the team had relied on the abbreviated report that Abigail Clay had overseen.

  That old biddie was so damned protective of Risa now that she was worse than a junkyard dog. The old woman had nearly collapsed when she had learned the truth of what her son had done to her granddaughter. Micah had heard Kell and Clint’s report of the night they had rescued her from the asylum and contacted the grandmother. When she had arrived at the hospital and learned the truth of what had happened, the grandmother had attacked Clint. Not because her son was dead but because she hadn’t been able to kill him herself.

  She had overseen her granddaughter ever since, despite Risa’s refusal to allow it.

  “The attorney is here, Jordan.” Nik opened the door and stuck his head inside, his long Nordic blond hair falling over his face, his icy blue eyes piercing the darkness. “He says rock and roll.”

  Jordan nodded, collected his files, and left the room.

  Micah turned his attention to the room.

  Risa sat in full view of the mirror, giving Micah a clear view of her from the other side. Those damned baggy clothes she was wearing pissed him off. The long white blouse was pulled out over loose slacks. She wore flat shoes. She was hiding. If she thought dressing like a bag lady was going to still his desire, then she’d better think again.

  He inhaled slowly, deeply, and watched as the federal attorney stepped inside with Jordan.

  “Mr. Landowne. Ladies.” The attorney nodded to them as he took his seat at the end of the table. Jordan sat at the other end, remaining silent.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Carl?” Attorney Landowne flashed the federal attorney a glare. “Since when do you call me Mister?”

  “Sorry, Marion.” The federal attorney grimaced. “This is official. We have some news that affects your client, and an official proposition for her. I wasn’t certain you’d want to keep this on a first-name basis under those circumstances.”

  Carl Stephens stared back at the private attorney coolly. Stephens’s graying brown hair was brushed back from his face, his hazel eyes were somber.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Abigail Clay leaned forward in her chair, her renowned fiery temper sparkling in her light blue eyes. “Carl, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. You were a friend of the family for years, before Jansen’s evil infected that relationship. Don’t start pulling bull on me, because I know you too well to tolerate it.”

  “Grandmother.” Risa’s voice was warning. “You promised to behave yourself.”

  Risa appeared calm. She sat, her arms crossed on the table, her expression composed, but Micah saw the fear in her eyes.

  Abigail Clay grimaced, her lined face tightening as a flash of agony pierced her gaze as she looked at her granddaughter. The old woman’s hands trembled and her lips tightened as she sat back with a furious look at the attorney.

  “Thank you, Miss Clay.” The federal attorney glanced at Risa. “We informed your doctor of the penalties of withholding information from the government, Miss Clay, and from his patient.” He nodded at her before turning back to Abigail. “I should inform you before we begin that I need to take a moment to explain to Miss Clay the truth of the tests her doctor has done each month.”

  Abigail paled as Risa stared back at the attorney, her expression becoming still, frozen.

  Micah tensed, forcing himself to remain in his chair as the attorney explained the tests she had taken each month and what they were for. When the attorney explained that the Whore’s Dust was still present in her system, and the ramifications of it, heat blazed in her face and fear filled her eyes.

  The explanation was shaming her. Micah could see it. The knowledge that any arousal she had would be increased at least tenfold. That orgasms would be explosive. That the sexual needs would be more painful at times than others and sometimes torturous, according to how the drug worked on her system. If she had been pale before the explanation, then she was paper white when the attorney finished.

  “What was the reason for this?” Abigail rasped furiously as she shoved her chair back and rose to her feet. “Look at her, and you wonder why I wouldn’t allow that morbid doctor to tell her about it? She’s been fine without knowing.”

  Dressed in silk tan slacks and a creamy blouse, the older woman paced a few steps, came to a stop, then ran her fingers through her short, stylish hair.

  “Enough, Grandmother,” Risa said softly. “You shouldn’t have lied to me.”

  “It was for—”

  “If you say it was for my own good one more time, then I will leave Atlanta.” Risa looked up at her, and Micah saw the determination on her face, as well as the pain. “I’m not a child that you need to shelter. If you have to lie to me, then you aren’t helping me.”

  Abigail covered her lips with her hand as she propped her other hand on her hip and turned away from her granddaughter.

  “This is all very interesting, Mr. Stephens,” Risa said then, her voice hoarse, rough, Micah knew, from her tears. “But I’m sure you have more to do than to oversee doctors’ reports. Why are we here?”

  Carl Stephens leaned forward, his gaze somber. “Your psychologist’s reports are quite factual and they’ve been sent to us monthly. In the past months you’ve reported that the memories are becoming clearer, you actually remember phrases, and you remember that the other man with Jansen Clay the night of your kidnapping mentioned stability tests and an amount of money to be paid if he managed to re
produce a drug.”

  Micah watched as she followed tightly. “I was unaware you were overseeing that as well,” she said faintly.

  “Miss Clay, anything you remember of that night, or your time in the hospital, is important to us. As you know, that drug is damned dangerous. Keeping it off the streets is imperative.”

  She nodded jerkily. “You have the records; they’re accurate. I haven’t remembered anything more. What does this have to do with why we’re here now?”

  She was lying. Micah saw it flash in her eyes. She had remembered something more, perhaps last night; was that why she had run?

  Carl looked down for a long second before lifting his gaze and meeting hers.

  “Someone else has managed to get hold of those records as well,” he said gently. “There’s a contract out on your life, Miss Clay. Two million dollars.” Abigail Clay cried out in protest as Risa sat frozen. “The assassin rumored to have picked it up is called Orion. His methods aren’t pleasant. Actually they’re particularly painful. He’s an international concern to the United States. This is the first time we’ve had advance notice of his intent to strike and we mean to capture him. We need your help.”

  Risa swayed.

  Micah was out of his chair and bursting out of the room the second he saw her eyes glaze, saw the imminent shock racing through her system. Damn Stephens. Damn them all to hell.

  He didn’t knock on the door where the meeting was being held; he threw it open and stepped inside, moving quickly to Risa’s side, his arms going around her as she stumbled from her chair.

  He caught her against his chest, glaring at Stephens as her nails clawed at his jacket and an animalistic sound of pain left her throat.

  “Bastard,” he snarled furiously. “You could have done this easier.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Abigail stood behind Risa like a protective tigress. “Release her this minute. I’ll care for her. I cared for her when you bastards left her on my doorstep like she didn’t matter.” Tears ran down her face as she yelled up at him, her hands reaching for her granddaughter, trying to pull her from Micah’s arms. “Damn you!”