by Gennita Low
He laced his hands with hers and she felt her arms moving outward and upward till they were over her head. At the same time he pushed deep inside her. His mouth bit her neck, sucking gently at another sensitive spot.
Spread-eagled, vulnerable, and she didn’t care. She cried out again when he pulled out.
“Shhh. We have a few hours, Elena. Patience.”
His promise didn’t sound comforting at all.
Eighteen
He smiled in the dark. He would have to report to the agency that their new topical analgesic with their experimental bio-DMSO had been a resounding success. DMSO, an antioxidant, had the ability to penetrate nerve fibers and administer a drug deeply into an inflammation, but although tasteless, it had a telltale smell. Not this version. This one, as far as he could tell, was doing just fine.
Just as fine as the moaning woman under him. He liked the sound of her calling his name. She had a sexy way of hiccupping. And he wanted to taste her again.
That was what had been missing from all these months of watching her. Her taste, the sound of her real voice, her scent—these tactile things were not the same in virtual reality. Now he couldn’t get enough of tasting her.
And she needed the topical analgesic for her injury. It relaxed the nerves and he could work on her soreness. Only he’d crossed the line again, administering it somewhere else. It worked very well there, too.
Holding still inside her, he enjoyed the feel of her multiple orgasms, teasing and squeezing him. She was slick and wet from pleasure. Judging from how sensitive she still was, keeping her there for a while would be easy enough.
He carefully pulled her body till her legs dangled off the bed. “This is going to hurt a little, sweetheart. But it’ll only be for a moment. Just tell me when it starts hurting.”
He spread her thighs. Wider. He stopped when she winced. He used his knee to keep her that way as he rubbed the lotion up and down the inside of her right thigh, and then, what was left on his hands, there.
“Hades—” She was silent for a few moments, her breathing quickening. “What is that you have?”
“It’s good for inflammation,” he told her truthfully.
“You’re the inflammation,” she muttered. “Oh…”
“Because I want to distract you while I do this,” he said, beginning to massage her injured leg again. Also, because he liked to hear her moan and hiccup. “Have to keep you relaxed while the agent delivers the steroid so you’ll heal quicker, love, and stop any internal bleeding.”
“Oh, stop sounding like you’re giving me a damn lecture, Hades. You aren’t my doctor and…and…” Her voice became breathless.
“You mean, your doctor doesn’t do this to you?” he asked helpfully, leaning forward and probing her wet slit with the head of his penis. He smiled slyly at the sound of her hiccup. At the same time, he extended her injured leg up higher, testing it. She didn’t seem to feel any discomfort from that as he buried his length inside her.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her as he moved in her shallowly. Her heat beat at him, tempting him to go faster. But he didn’t know when he would be able to do this again and he meant to enjoy her.
He supposed it would be all right to reveal his identity to her soon. After all, she had passed the test given by the department heads. Once this operation was wrapped up, with the SEED and both the Cummings in custody, all operations would be for COMCEN and not to prove to some funding committee. Then, he could introduce himself to Elena in person.
He extended her injured leg even farther, until her toes tickled his jawline. It allowed him to push in even deeper. The soft moan coming from her lips didn’t sound like her leg was giving her any pain at the moment.
Or maybe he wouldn’t tell her after all. He remained in that position, not moving, as he ran his knuckles up and down her thigh, feeling and searching. Satisfied that there were no more knots of tension that might block the medication from working its way into the injured tissues, he then turned his full attention to the owner of the leg.
“I’m done with your injury, miss,” he mocked her, knowing it would infuriate her to point out her helplessness. “Is there any other place where you need my attention?”
“You can…go to hell,” she told him.
He laughed. “But I’m in hell,” he told her, smiling. “You mean, you want me out of hell.”
“Stop teasing me, Hades,” she said, her voice low and smoky. “Either move or take it out. Something. You’re…I can’t take this anymore.”
A voice like that could make a man come. Maybe it was good that he didn’t hear her real voice that much. But having had her, it would be hard to not come back and taste her again. Either way, he meant to have his fill tonight.
Silently, he answered her plea. Her breathing became small gasps as his thrusts grew longer and harder. Faster. He felt his blood heating up, rushing through him as he sank deeper and deeper. All her heat absorbing all of his, taking his passion inside her and giving him hers.
Afterwards, he laid his face against her heaving breasts, breathing in her scent. His tongue darted out, lazily licking one of those mounds. Sweet and spicy Elena. He was not ready to leave her.
“I still can’t move,” she said and he smiled at the satiated drawl.
“That’s because this session isn’t over yet,” he told her, kissing his way down her flat stomach. Sweet. Spicy. Tangy.
He cupped the sexy cheeks of her ass and concentrated on taking care of business. He smiled wickedly as the woman in his care hiccupped his name and called him all sorts of other names. He ignored them and her expletives became moans.
He could come to enjoy doing this a lot.
Soft and warm. Pleasant. Helen stretched, turning over with a soft, satiated hum. She burrowed deeper into her pillow.
She wanted to sleep the day away. What a wonderful night of…She came fully awake.
“Fuck!” she cursed out loud as she scrambled to a sitting position, looking around wildly.
Of course she was alone. It had been a dream. Her freaking weird mood yesterday had caused—she caught sight of her torn T-shirt lying on the floor.
“Fuck!” she said again. She looked under the covers, then flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.
She didn’t know what to think. Last night. Oh, my. Last night.
Hades had been here and he had—she closed her eyes at the thought of everything he’d done to her last night. And she was shocked at herself. She had liked the things he’d done. More than liked.
She should be mad. The man had taken advantage of her. She had been fighting that sensitivity all those hours and he’d appeared and…Her face burned from the memory of how intimate they had been.
She looked up and caught sight of the red blinking light of the camera. Her chin automatically went up. Was he watching? Of course he was.
“Pervert,” she called out, trying to summon up some anger. She couldn’t. Apparently, total relaxation wasn’t conducive to anger. She sighed reluctantly. And a good night of hot, mind-blowing sex with a faceless man.
She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands, wondering how she was going to face a debriefing session today with these memories playing havoc with her mind. What was wrong with her? The thought of someone drugging her like that and doing the things he did should put her in a rage. But she had wanted Hades, had—she growled in disgust—begged for him to continue. Had said yes, yes, yes.
She looked at the blinking camera again. “It was under duress,” she yelled out. She wouldn’t have said yes if he hadn’t…That brought back another host of memories of what he had actually done to make her say “yes, yes, yes,” and she didn’t want to go there.
Touching her ears, she realized that her earbuds weren’t in. She turned. They were by the brain entrainment machine, which was off. She frowned. She really had fallen asleep like a log.
Determinedly, she slid out of bed, not caring that she was naked. He’d
obviously seen her like that before, so why was she blushing like a virgin, dammit? Because he’d touched and kissed her everywhere last night. Because she couldn’t forget where his mouth and hands had been.
She was not going to let him have the satisfaction of seeing how much she remembered. She halted midway to the restroom and looked down curiously at her leg. She had been walking very quickly; she wasn’t limping or feeling any pain. There was a huge bruise starting to show up the whole side of her leg but—she turned it one way, then another—only slight discomfort. No pain.
In the bathroom, she looked at her reflection and made a face. She touched her neck and shivered at the memory of teeth biting her. The sensitivity—it was still there, but not edgy like before.
She quickly washed up and pulled a towel around her before stepping back into the room. Someone would be coming up here to check on her soon and she had a feeling the room would betray the previous night’s activities. She groaned. She hadn’t been exactly quiet during the whole thing either. God.
Her bed looked innocent enough, one indentation on the pillow, the sheets a little rumpled. Easy to explain. She hadn’t been able to move, that’s why! She could feel her cheeks heating up again as she stared at the bed, as she pictured herself lying there in the dark. Helpless. Totally in his power. He had applied something on her, turning everything into a world of sensations—the heat, the soft caresses, his tongue. Oh, my God, his tongue. Had she really lain there for hours and let him explore her so intimately like that?
She closed her eyes, remembering too clearly how it had been. All night. She hadn’t gotten enough after the first time, and he had been willing to give her what she’d wanted over and over again. He had made love to her with his mouth till she had finally fallen asleep from exhaustion and satiation. Her last thought had been that she didn’t mind not being able to move if he’d keep doing that forever.
Helen shook her head. She had lust in her brain. And she’d better get herself back under control because there was a full day ahead.
The intercom’s buzz brought her back to reality. She crossed the room to answer it. It was Dr. Kirkland, of course. She’d better screw her head back on tightly because today was debriefing day. She sighed. Great choice of word, Helen.
An hour and forty-five minutes later, with a big breakfast in her, she felt almost back to normal. Dr. Kirkland had examined her injury, touching her bruise and the surrounding area, gently probing. It still felt slightly prickly to have someone touching but at least that strange traveling electrical tingling wasn’t happening. She even felt comfortable enough to discuss it with Dr. Kirkland. He listened to her description quietly.
“It’s still present, sort of,” she told him when he asked whether the sensation was gone. “It’s never happened before when I remote viewed so, yeah, I’d say it has to do with the serum.”
Of course he knew about her visitor. Figured. He had to be told since he was her doctor. She commended herself for looking nonchalant when he brought the subject up.
“I would have recommended trying the dimethyl sufoxide substitute today if you were unable to walk.”
Helen looked Dr. Kirkland squarely in the eye, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. “My monitor introduced whatever it was to me.”
She didn’t mention the dark. Or the other parts of the introduction. She didn’t think her monitor would supply those details as well. She knew him that well, at least.
“It’s a compound that we’ve been working on that emulates the properties of a commercial solvent.”
“I’ve heard of DMSO,” she told him, surprised that she could even recall any of the conversation from the previous night. “I have a friend who was a weight lifter and he told me about its use, especially for painful injured tissues.”
Dr. Kirkland nodded. “Oh yes, it was quite popular among weight lifters for a while. They’re always the first to try out controversial products.” He picked up his chart. “So, no need for any painkillers today and we’ll monitor your leg carefully. I’ve reviewed the tape of what that man in the elevator did. You were lucky he didn’t pull it in the other direction or you’d have a broken leg today instead.”
Helen cocked her head. “But I’d have been able to walk on it, probably.” She laughed at the doctor’s expression. “I wouldn’t have known, Doc. I didn’t feel anything at that point.”
“That’s the very real danger of the serum,” he said. “I’m going to double-check on the dosage and compare it with the other testee’s body weight. There must be an answer to your problem.”
Hell chose not to go into that particular subject again. “In an operation where I may have been alone and needed to get out of Dodge, perhaps it could save me from being caught,” she said instead, giving him a wry smile. “Pain can be an impediment to saving my own life.”
Dr. Kirkland smiled back. “You two are getting too in sync. Your monitor said those exact words to me last night.” He checked his wristwatch. “This morning, I mean.”
“And one of these days, you’ll slip up and say his name and I’ll know his identity,” Helen said lightly. “Right, Doc?”
“You know the protocol to a successful experiment, Hell,” he said, as he squiggled onto her medical chart. “There are different parts, some of which are meant to ensure that the testee isn’t skewing the results by giving expected answers.”
“Doc, I’ve already passed the remote viewing with flying colors. They have the key to prove it,” she pointed out.
“Maybe there are other tests,” Dr. Kirkland said. “You can bring this up with your monitor in the next VR session.”
Seeing Hades so soon? Even in VR? She gulped. “When?”
Thank goodness Dr. Kirkland didn’t see her reaction. “After debriefing and a break. He wants another remote viewing session done today.”
“Well, that explains the absence of coffee at breakfast,” Helen said, as nonchalantly as she could manage.
Nineteen
Helen mentally repeated their names. Alex Diamond, Shahrukh Kingsley (oh, fitting name for Big Swimming Guy), Michael Hunter—a shock to hear Flyboy’s real name—and he winked at her, with that smile that had probably generated a few thousand female sighs, Jack Sullivan, Armando Chang, looking half-asleep, Heath Cliffe (she arched her eyebrows slightly at his name, too, his brown eyes lighting up with amusement when she gave him a bland stare as his gaze traveled down to her leg), and Jed McNeil—is the man attached to that denim jacket?
They were the official COS commandos. She knew four of the original were killed in action during that mission a few years back, and only two of those positions had been filled—Jack Sullivan and Armando. They were finally formally introduced to her as a group, a sign that she was now part of the team. Right? She wasn’t sure,
Then there was Drew De Clerq, the team coordinator. She found out that he was just acting operations chief in the mission she had been on. Operations chief was actually Alex Diamond’s title. How interesting. When GEM and COMCEN formed a merger, T., her operations chief, had comanaged Alex’s job with different commandos when he went missing.
At the moment, her chief, taking a seat across from her, was studiously avoiding looking at Alex Diamond throughout the introductions. Or at least, it seemed that way to Helen. She wanted to laugh. Those two reminded her of two lions in a mating ritual. It took the beasts forever to get together but when they did—
She hid a smile.
“Any questions about who is who, Hell?” De Clerq asked.
Yeah, which one of you came to my room last night? Helen shook her head. Don’t go there now. “No, I’m very happy to make your acquaintance,” she drawled out in a Southern accent. “I’ve heard so much but never seen all of you together.”
It was true. For a team, these men didn’t seem to hang out together much. They liked their space too much, she figured. All wild beasts chained together by…by what? She wasn’t sure yet, but she was going to find out one of these d
ays.
“How are you feeling?” Alex asked. “I read in the initial report that you’ve been attacked by several hostiles. And shot at.”
“Tranqued, actually,” Heath interrupted, “and she kept running.”
“So whoever that was waiting outside wasn’t there to kill her,” chimed in Shahrukh.
Helen took a good look at Shahrukh. Big Swimming Guy. This was the first time she’d seen him this close-up. Dressed in a light orange cotton Indian shirt with elaborate Eastern embroidery, he was the most exotic-looking man she’d met, with his longish wavy locks of black hair and fierce deep-set black eyes. As usual, an image of him wearing some kind of medieval leather armor and swinging a big broadsword floated into her mind. He spoke with a slight accent that she couldn’t place. Maybe Turkish, with that name.
“Then it’s someone who knows about our Hell,” Flyboy said.
Helen looked from one man to the other. Our Hell? She caught T.’s amused gaze. She really had to ask her chief how she’d dealt working with these beasts on her own all these years.
“It’s also someone who wants to stop our Hell,” Jed said.
Did she imagine it or was there just a slight note of mockery in that man’s small emphasis of our? She was finding it difficult to keep her mind from wondering about each of these men because of last night. Well, she was human. Of course she was going to think about that!
However, she was also the newest “member” here. She had to at least give the impression that she could keep up with the boys without staring at each of them and trying to see them naked. She stared down at her notepad. Now why did she think of that? It immediately put her mind to feverish work. Not good, especially when—
“What’s your take on this, Agent Roston?” Jed asked.
Especially when she was expected to speak on serious matters. “Maybe they were testing me, too,” she muttered.
