Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  “She’s in more pain than arousal, my good doctor,” Jansen drawled as they stood there forever, their attention going between her and the monitors that electrodes were hooked to. “You still have some adjusting to do, it seems.”

  “Her heart is at critical level,” the doctor mused as he tapped her heart monitor. “You should allow me to open her heart, to see the damage it’s causing.”

  “Much too messy.” Jansen shook his head.

  Risa shook her head as she watched herself buck and struggle against the pain. She wanted to scream, to give voice to the silent agony her dream self was enduring.

  “So much pain,” she whispered at the doctor’s back. “Why did you hurt me?”

  “Adjusting the drug isn’t going to be as easy as we first assumed,” the doctor commented thoughtfully. “Fuentes’s scientist was rather advanced in the synthetic qualities used to create the Whore’s Dust.”

  Jansen stepped back, a scowl on his face as the doctor shook his head. “Too bad she’s so damned ugly, Jansen. You could have at least sold her off. At this point, she’s only a liability to you.”

  Risa turned then, her gaze lifting until she could see the back of his head. His hair. Dark mixed with gray. Her vision was suddenly fuzzy; she felt light-headed, so frightened.

  Shaking her head, she jerked her gaze back to herself, only to find her eyes locked with her own.

  “You know him,” the bound Risa cried out in agony. “You know him. Don’t trust him. You know him.”

  She fought to regulate her breathing, her fear. She tried to look at him again and a flash of disorientation assailed her.

  “Look at him,” the dream Risa cried out. “You know him. Stop him. Oh God. Please. Please make it stop!”

  Risa could hear the screams now. They echoed around her, resounding with torturous pain as she moved slowly around the bed, her hands gripping the metal rails that shook with the force of the dream Risa struggling against them. She moved in front of Jansen and lifted her eyes—

  “Wake the fuck up, damn you!”

  Her eyes jerked open.

  She was no longer in the dream. She was struggling against Micah, her own screams still filling her head as she fought him.

  She was on her knees facing him. He was kneeling in front of her, a bloody scratch running down his cheek. He was dressed in jeans, his bare chest was damp, a smear of blood on his shoulder, and he wasn’t alone.

  Panting, fighting to breathe, Risa stared wildly around the room. There was Jordan and the redhead. Risa couldn’t remember her name. Had anyone introduced them? Jordan and the redhead were watching her as though she were crazed. His eyes were narrowed; the redhead’s green eyes were damp, as though she was on the verge of tears.

  “Why are they here?” Risa’s throat was scratchy, her voice rough.

  “You were having a nightmare,” Jordan stated as Risa saw Micah’s lips part to answer her.

  Micah didn’t appear pleased that Jordan had jumped in. Handsome, hard, cold. Jordan Malone had the ability to frighten her.

  She turned her eyes back to Micah. “Can they leave now?”

  She wanted Jordan out of her bedroom. She didn’t like strangers staring at her as though they were dissecting her and whatever she might have said or dreamed.

  She was too shaken by what she had dreamed this time, the way she had dreamed it. For the first time she hadn’t relived those nightmarish memories; she had merely observed them.

  “You saw the man that came to the clinic with your father,” Micah said, his own voice rough. “What did you see, Risa?”

  Her gaze moved back to Jordan. He was still dressed in perfectly pressed black slacks and a gray, starched cotton shirt. Did the man ever have a wrinkle anywhere on him?

  “I saw me.” She shook her head as she pulled away from the warmth of Micah’s hands and struggled to sit on the bed, her feet flat on the floor, her back to the others. “Tell them to leave, Micah. I’m not in the mood for company at three o’clock in the morning. For God’s sake.” She turned her head and glared at Jordan. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  A heavy black brow arched with a hint of mockery. “I just replace my batteries when they run down,” he remarked laconically. “It’s more efficient.”

  She snorted at that, shaking her head as Micah moved from the bed.

  “Tehya, get Jordan the hell out of here,” Micah ordered her roughly. “And next time he wants to barge in, do me a favor and chain him to the bed or something.”

  “He would have to be in the bed first,” Tehya commented. “I think he’s frightened I’ll join him.”

  Risa could only shake her head at the teasing going on behind her. She inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. She could almost see him, the man who had raped her, the one who had accompanied her father to the clinic and pumped her with that drug.

  She knew him. Her dream self had screamed that knowledge at her. She knew him.

  She knew his hands.

  Those hands flashed through her head. They were large, dark. They looked rough, but the palms were baby-soft. So soft, it was creepy.

  She shuddered at the remembered feel of them, holding her wrists to the floor of the plane as he raped her. Strange, she remembered the feel of his hands more than she remembered what he had done to her.

  “Risa?”

  She opened her eyes to see Micah kneeling in front of her, his expression concerned despite the glow of anger in his eyes.

  “They’re gone.” He pushed her hair back from her face, looping one thick strand behind an ear. “Jordan called while you were dreaming. He heard your scream.”

  “He was being nosy.” She shook her head. “What? Does he think you won’t tell him anything I remember in my dreams?”

  His lips quirked. “He’s an impatient prick.”

  She almost laughed, because that was just about the truth.

  “Risa.” He cupped her cheek with his palm. “If I could wipe away the nightmares, then I would. If I could save you this pain, this fear, then I would take it all away.”

  He would. She saw it in his face, in his eyes.

  “It will be over soon,” she whispered, and regretted that it would be. She would live with the fear, she thought, the danger to herself, if it would mean holding Micah to her just a little bit longer.

  “It’s almost over.” One hand threaded through her hair as the other tightened at her waist. “You’ll be safe soon.”

  She would be alone soon.

  Her hands lifted from her lap to his shoulders, her fists uncurling so her fingers could grip the hard muscle, feel the warmth and power beneath his skin.

  “Why are you in jeans?” she asked breathlessly. “You were naked when you got in the bed.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “I pulled them on when I heard Jordan and Tehya enter the apartment. Couldn’t let them see my bare ass, darling. Tehya’s frisky. She would have patted it.”

  Risa wanted to smile at his teasing. “I’d break her hand,” she promised.

  “I knew I could trust you to help me hold on to my dignity.” His eyes smiled. She loved that. The way they lit up with amusement, with warmth.

  She loved him. Loved being with him, touching him, the way he held and protected her.

  “Thank you for keeping me safe.” She stared back at him, watching his dark eyes as they seemed to darken further. The pupils blended into the irises as her hands stroked over his shoulders. “Keep me warm tonight, Micah.”

  Her hands lowered to the band of his jeans, where she pulled the snap free, then gripped the zipper and eased it over the erection swelling beneath the denim.

  “Are you cold?” His voice was a rough whisper through the room.

  “I’m very cold.” She lifted against him to brush his lips with hers. “And I’m very needy.”

  “Needy, are you?” he asked as the hem of her shirt was pulled up, his hands gripping the cloth and easing it over her arms as she lifted them.

  Her br
eathing was ragged now, rough.

  “How would you take me, if you could take me however you liked?” she asked him then.

  “Slow and easy,” he answered her without delay. “I’d lay you down and spend hours, days, years, learning your passion.”

  A sob caught in her throat. She wanted years. She wanted the rest of her life spent in his arms, in his bed.

  She lifted her hips as his hands tugged at the waist of her cotton sleep pants. He pulled them, along with her panties, over her hips and down her legs. As he tossed the material away, he rose to his feet and removed his jeans, revealing the hard, fully erect flesh her body was so eager for.

  She couldn’t deny herself the needs rushing through her. She knew, sensed with every fiber of her being, that soon Micah would walk out of her life. She had so precious little time to store the memories she needed to carry inside her.

  “I love touching you, tasting you,” she sighed as she smoothed her hands up his hard thighs.

  “I love your touch,” he groaned. But the sound could have been caused by the sensation of her hand stroking down his cock.

  It was heavy, thick. The broad head was tapered at the tip and broad at the flared base before it curved into the shaft. The flesh was dark, with thick veins pulsing beneath. As she stroked him, a pearly bead of semen formed at the tip, drawing her mouth.

  “Ah, Risa. Sweet, sweet Risa,” he crooned in that desert-rough voice of his as her tongue licked over him. “Sweet love. How will I ever survive without this?”

  How would she survive without it?

  Her lips followed her tongue, covered the heated cock head and drew it into her mouth. He tasted like summer in the middle of winter. Addictive. Powerful.

  Her tongue flickered over the underside as she sucked him in, loving the feel and the taste of him in her mouth. She hungered for him. It was a hunger she could only associate to Micah. Not to a drug. Not to anything unnatural. Needing Micah was as natural as the land needing rain, or flowers needing sunshine. It was imperative. It was the key to survival.

  Drawing back, she surveyed the slick wetness she had left on the tip, laved over it again with her tongue, and gloried in the hard groan that echoed from his chest.

  “I’m wet.” She lifted her head and stared up at him, aroused past the point of sanity. “I need you inside me.”

  “Hell.” He knelt in front of the bed again.

  The position was perfect. His hips were aligned with hers as he pushed her thighs apart. His cock pressed against the swollen bare folds of her pussy. The head of it had more of her juices flowing, her muscles convulsing in anticipation.

  Risa watched, eyes wide, fighting to breathe, fascinated by the sight of that thick crest parting her folds and nudging against the entrance to her body.

  For one incredibly insane moment she wished she weren’t on birth control. She wished for things she couldn’t have. She wanted his child. A part of him that couldn’t be taken from her.

  “Slow and easy?” His rough voice distracted her. “Or fast and hard? Which do you want, baby?”

  His hands framed her breasts, lifting them to allow his mouth to stroke over them. Fire erupted in her nipples and streaked to her belly. Her breath caught at the pleasure, at the incredible need surging through her.

  “Fast and hard. This time,” she panted.

  His lips quirked, an almost-smile that charmed her, that warmed her.

  “Slow and easy next time?” He pressed in, the width of him stretching her opening, sending flares of liquid heat to streak through her veins.

  “Oh God yes,” she cried out, leaning back on her elbows because she didn’t have the strength to sit up and she wanted to watch. She wanted to see him take her. “Next time, slow and easy.”

  He paused, the heavy head alone lodged inside her as she felt her inner muscles suckling at it, trying to draw it farther inside her.

  “Fast and hard?” he asked again.

  She lifted her head, licked her lips, and said, “Fast and hard, Micah. Fuck me like you’ll never fuck me again.”

  CHAPTER 22

  MICAH PAUSED as Risa allowed the words to pass her lips. His eyes narrowed. “Naughty baby,” he crooned with a sensual little grin.

  “I’ve said that word before,” she gasped as she felt his cock throbbing inside her.

  “Do you want to get naughtier, pretty Risa?” His hands slid from her thighs to her breasts. He cupped them, shaped them, tweaked her nipples, then rubbed the little pain away.

  “With you? I think I could be very naughty, Micah,” she breathed out roughly.

  He rewarded her. One hard thrust buried his erection halfway inside her. It stole her breath, had her head tipping back and her hips writhing as her legs lifted, knees bending to clasp his hard hips.

  “Ah, pretty Risa. Your sweet pussy is so tight, so hot around my cock.” His voice was darker, rougher, that hint of desert stronger.

  “Oh God, Micah, you’re going to make me crazy.” Her eyes opened as her head lifted.

  She stared down her body, her breath catching at the sight of her pinkened flesh parted and hugging the stiff shaft buried only halfway inside her.

  “Is that all I get?” she breathed out in disappointment.

  Micah groaned.

  As he pulled back, Risa caught a strangled cry in her throat at the sight of her slick juices coating and clinging to the hard flesh.

  “So hot and wet for me.” Micah ran his finger over the wet flesh, collected the moisture, and as she watched, brought it to his lips.

  His hips slammed forward as he licked her taste from his finger.

  Risa screamed out with the pleasure. The sight of him tasting her, the feel of him plunging full length inside her, was nearly too much. She could feel her orgasm swelling inside her, building, taking her over.

  “Do you know what I want, sweet Risa?” His hands gripped her hips as she stilled, him buried inside her to the hilt, his cock throbbing against the tender tissue gripping it.

  “What do you want?” she moaned. She knew what she wanted. She wanted him to move, to thrust, to stroke until she was screaming with the pleasure of it.

  He leaned closer. His cock went deeper, flexing and throbbing as she fought to breathe from the pleasure of it.

  “I want you to let me behind you, Risa,” he crooned. “I want to stoke your pretty ass as I fuck you. I want you to give me all of you, baby.”

  She stared back at him in surprise, with a tingle of uncertainty and fear.

  “Behind me?” She tried to think, to assure herself she could do it, but all she could do was feel him inside her.

  He moved, pulled back, pressed back, and she moaned at the tingling rush of sensation.

  “Behind you, Risa. It will be so damned good. I can stroke your pretty clit while I fuck you hard and deep, or play with your tight little nipples. You’ll love it.”

  She shook her head. Could she bear it? Would the nightmares flood her? Would the fear rush in and overtake the pleasure?

  “Micah.” She stared back at him in distress. She didn’t know if she should be turned on or terrified of what he wanted.

  Then, he pulled away.

  “No. Don’t stop.” She reached for him, desperate to bring him back to her.

  “Come here, baby.” He pulled her up and turned her, pressing her knees to the bed as he placed a hand against her shoulders. “Just there,” he crooned as his hand slid over her shoulder and under her chin. “Now look up. See what I see?”

  What she saw was her face, flushed with arousal, her eyes too large, darker than normal, as she stared into the mirror over the chest of drawers at the side of the wall.

  Behind her, Micah looked like a conqueror. His dark face tight and honed with lust, his black eyes glittering in approval as he caught her eyes in the mirror.

  Her lips parted in shocked surprise and wonder. She wasn’t ugly here. She looked like a woman, she looked unlike herself. The mask of passion and need that co
vered her face gave her a softer, gentler appearance.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he groaned.

  Risa stared at his image. The way one hand gripped the thick, dark cock as he held her hip with his other hand.

  “Now, let me show you how to get naughty, sweetheart.”

  He tucked the head of his cock between her thighs, pressed it against the swollen folds, and eased it just inside.

  “Take me, Risa. Work your pretty pussy over my cock. Show me how naughty you want to get.”

  How naughty she wanted to get.

  Risa stared into the mirror, her gaze fixated on Micah. His shoulders flexed with power; a small rivulet of perspiration ran down his chest to be absorbed by the spattering of rich black hair that grew across it.

  His abdomen flexed. His hands tightened on her hips, and Risa moved.

  She watched her hips press back, felt the full width of his cock stretching her, overstretching her, taking her.

  “Micah,” she breathed his name in a rush of exquisite pleasure.

  She pulled almost free of him and watched the tight grimace of hunger that twisted his face. His lips were drawn back from his teeth; he looked wild, primitive. He made her feel wild.

  “Touch your breasts, Risa,” he groaned as she stroked back on his erection. “Let me see you play with those tight little nipples. I love your nipples. Sweet little berries that taste like nectar against my tongue.”

  She moaned and lifted one hand to play with a nipple. She gripped it, tugged at it, and worked herself on the stiff flesh impaling her.

  She was becoming lost in the pleasure. She could feel it. With her eyes locked on his, she let her fingers trail from her breast to her stomach. Curiosity consumed her as deeply as the passion. Her fingers moved between her thighs, and she moaned at the feeling of her hot juices against her fingertips. Her lips parted on a silent cry as those fingers encountered the iron-hard flesh she was moving on.

  A silent snarl curled his lips as his head tilted back on his shoulders, his eyes closing as pleasure tightened his face. The sight of it weakened her, threw her closer to orgasm, and strengthened her in the same wash of sensation.