His grunts echoed through the room as he chased his release, searching for a physical bond that could only come by emptying his seed inside of her. She stopped trying to control the pleasure and gave over, giving up her control.
For how long it went on she didn’t know, but she blacked out to return to the moment when he lifted her hips and started rubbing her clit.
“I need you to come with me.” His words were urgent and needy, like the language of a man in love.
It was impossible to squeeze another climax from her, but somehow, he managed. Furiously stimulating her clit, he called out her name, over and over. The sound of skin slapping against skin as his groin punished her pussy overrode her senses. She was only aware of the sounds and the provocative scent of his skin and their sex as he buried himself inside her up to his balls and cursed with a loud groan.
His body jerked, and warm jets of seed filled her pussy. He collapsed on top of her with a shudder, pushing her limp body into the mattress.
“Sky. Fuck. Baby. Oh fuck.” He lifted his weight onto his arms. “Tell me you’re all right.”
She moaned at the loss as his cock pulled free, her chest heaving with labored breaths. He planted a soft kiss in her neck, and lifted her hips into the air.
Spreading her shaking thighs wide, he pressed a hand on her shoulders to keep her upper body down on the bed. “Don’t move.”
His seed ran hot from her pussy down her legs. Even in her euphoric high she felt her cheeks heat at the exposed pose.
“Look at that,” he said. “Fucking beautiful.”
When she tried to move, he gripped her hips. “Not yet. I like to watch.”
After what seemed like forever, he eased her ass to the mattress and collapsed next to her. Pulling her to him, he folded his arms around her.
“What you do to me, woman. It’s a sin. You make me lose all reason.”
She uttered a contented sigh and nestled against his broad chest.
“Close your eyes.” He kissed each eyelid. “Rest.”
With his hand stroking her ruined hair, she fell asleep to wake up in his embrace some time later.
“Hey,” he said with a tender smile. “Welcome back.”
He searched her lips, kissing her like he was drowning, and she was air.
“Bono.”
“That’s just about right. You’ll never say another man’s name in bed. Promise.”
“Promise.”
He kissed her again. “Sore?”
“Happily so.”
“Let me have a look.”
As he inched down the bed and spread her legs, she closed them with a scissor action. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.”
“I’m fine.”
He jerked her thighs open, his strong hands keeping her spread for him. “You’re swollen.”
“It’s a good swollen.”
“I’ll get you an anesthetic cream to dull the ache.”
“I’m not that fragile.”
“You’re anything but fragile.” He planted a kiss on her folds and crawled up her body. “I want to do this so much again, right now, but I’m going to be strong and abstain.” Pushing off her, he picked his jeans up from the floor and pulled them on. “I need the bathroom. Want to come?”
“I’m good.” She sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “There’s a torch by the door.”
“Got it.” He took the light from the hook and gave her a last look before walking out into the night.
Flinching at the ache between her legs, she scurried from the bed and pulled on his shirt. She grabbed her bag and rummaged through it for Godfrey’s pen. With trembling hands, she kneeled in front of the bed stand, placing the wrist pad under the light of the lamp. Like Godfrey’s technician had showed her, she loosened the four screws with the screwdriver tip and carefully lifted the face. She slid the fake chip in place as she released the real one, cold sweat running down her back, and inserted the chip into the copying device. When the green light came on, she reversed the procedure. She was about to screw the face back on when the door handle lifted. Dropping the pen and jumping to her feet, she placed her body in front of the nightstand.
Bono entered, his chiseled chest shining with a layer of sheen in the light. “What are you doing?”
She removed his shirt and threw it over the nightstand. “Come back to bed.”
With a prayer of forgiveness, she crawled back onto the mattress, and sighed inwardly of relief when he removed his pants and lay down next to her.
He folded his arms around her. “You’re shivering. Are you cold?”
“Just hold me,” she said, barely suppressing her tears.
“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.”
“Will you stay?”
“If you’ll let me.”
She kissed his chest. “I think I may be falling a little for you.”
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “That’s a start.”
Sleep pulled at her, but she forced herself to stay awake while his breathing turned even. When she was sure he was asleep, she detangled herself from his embrace and lifted her body off the bed. She waited several seconds. Sure that he wasn’t moving, she retrieved the pen and watch, and carried it to the kitchenette where she continued to secure the screws. The automatic screwdriver sounded as unnaturally loud in the silence as the erratic beat of her heart. The last screw was just about done when Bono’s voice made her jerk.
“Sky?”
Chapter Ten
“I’m thirsty,” Sky said, keeping her back turned to Bono.
She finished tightening the screw, retracted the screwdriver point, and dropped the pen in the pot plant on the countertop.
She covered the wrist pad with a dishtowel and poured water from the jug into a cup, her hands shaking.
Facing him with a smile, she offered the cup. “Want some?”
His gaze trailed over her naked form. The appreciation in his expression made her cringe with guilt, but she shook the feeling. Grabbing the dishtowel and watch, she walked back to the bed and knelt next to him.
As he took the cup, he held her eyes. Something in the way he regarded her made her tremble. For a frightening second, she believed he was onto her, but he only smiled a wise kind of smile, and then his face softened into something that looked too much like forgiveness.
He left the cup on the nightstand. “Come here.”
Dropping the towel with the wrist pad on the floor, she got back into bed next to him.
He kissed her gently. “You know you can trust me.”
“Yes.”
“Life isn’t always hard.” He stroked her arm. “There is so much beauty I want to show you.”
She cuddled closer and rested her head on his chest. “Your life hasn’t been easy, either.”
“Not always, but that you already know.”
“What happened to your eye?”
The beat of his heart sped up under her cheek.
Intertwining her fingers on his chest, she rested her chin on her hands to look at him. “Will you tell me?”
He pinched his eye shut for a second. “It’s hard for me to talk about it.”
An inexplicable desire to know and soothe his pain came over her. “Give me your hand.”
Craning his neck, he looked at her with a furrowed brow. “Sky…”
“I won’t access anything else, only what you give me permission for.”
“Why?” He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Is it important?”
“It is to me. I want to know you. Every part.”
Reluctantly, he offered his hand.
“It’s all right.” She took his palm in hers and traced the lifeline with a finger. “If you share the bad memories, they can’t hurt you, anymore.”
“Is this a philosophy you live by?”
She didn’t answer. Her secrets were too grave and dirty to share.
Gently, she rubbed his callouses, and closed her eye
s. The place his past took her to was in the desert. The landscape was barren, and the sand a bloody red in the warm reflection of the setting sun. An eagle cried out from the steel-blue cliff tops on the horizon. It was a lonely call of desolation and hopelessness. The setting filled her with an eerie sensation of pending tragedy.
Next to a small oasis, stood a single dwelling—an impressive house with mud walls and a tile roof. Bono exited from the kitchen, holding the hand of a young woman. She was dressed in a see-through, yellow dress that reached her sandaled feet. There were traces of tears on her cheeks and fear on her face as she glanced over her shoulder toward the house.
At the walled garden exit, Bono paused to survey the surrounding area. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter of the property. He motioned to be quiet with a finger on his lips. His face was beautiful, unlike any she’d seen. His dark skin was flawless, pulled tight over high cheekbones. A strong, straight nose accentuated his masculine beauty, but full, sensual lips softened the harshness of his male features. Of all his traits, his eyes were the most stunning. They were the color of dark chocolate with specs of caramel. This is where Sky paused the longest. She couldn’t help it. He was magnificent to regard, too beautiful to behold. His handsome exterior was contorted with an expression of worry. Death hung like a cloak around the couple. Life awaited on the outskirts of the desert, far away from the mansion they were escaping.
He inched forward when the guard had passed, gesturing for the girl to follow. He counted soundlessly, his lips forming the words, and on the fifth beat they ran for the Jeep parked in the shade of a palm tree. Sky tasted the victory on his breath as they reached the vehicle and the dread that oozed from his pores as he lifted the woman inside and hotwired the engine. For a terrifying moment, nothing happened, and then the vehicle stuttered to life. The girl, Lydia, uttered a silent cry of relief, her head tilted to the heavens in a prayer of thanks. Then a small army of soldiers emerged from behind the sand boulders, their automatic rifles aimed at the vehicle.
Bono lifted his hands, pledging his life in return for Lydia’s.
A man dressed in a white robe with a pistol approached. He addressed them in English. “You think you can steal my slave and run away from me?”
“She had nothing to do with it,” Bono said. “I forced her to come. Punish me, not her.”
Lydia shook next to him, fresh tears running down her cheeks.
“I trusted you,” the man said, “and you betrayed that trust to steal from me.”
“She’s not a piece of property that can be stolen.”
“Yet, I paid a lot of money for her.”
“At a slave market. That’s inhumane.”
“Why did you steal her?”
“You torture her.”
“Ah, so you believe you’re a savior. In believing such a foolish thing, you’ve turned yourself into the executioner.” The man turned the pistol on Lydia and pulled the trigger.
“No!” Bono’s scream echoed through the empty valley as the girl slouched next to him in the seat, a red circle pooling through the flimsy fabric on her chest.
The soldiers dragged Bono from the Jeep and made him kneel on the ground.
The man with the pistol came to stand over him, a dagger in his hand. “She wasn’t worth much, and I was growing tired of her. I was going to kill her, anyway. By law, I should cut off your hand, but I believe your original sin wasn’t the theft you committed. Your original sin was to lust after the woman of another man. I saw the way you looked at her. God himself said to cut off the part of the body that leads us into temptation. So,” he wiped the blade on the fabric of his robe, “I won’t take your hand. I will take your eye, as that is the part that made you sin.”
Bono stared at the man with hatred as the soldiers grabbed his arms and jerked back his head. The blade came closer, the point aimed at the retina of his eye.
Sky gasped. She couldn’t watch. She turned away, hearing Bono scream. When all was quiet again except for that lonely cry of the eagle, she looked back to see him lying on his back on the ground, his blood soaked up by the sand and his left eye socket empty. She reached for him, wanting to make it better, no, wanting to take it away.
Her name being spoken pulled her back to the present. Bono was holding her in his arms, his face a mask of worry.
“Come back, Sky.” His hands rubbed over her arms. “Speak to me.”
“I’m here.”
He blew out a breath. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“Bono,” she cupped his face, “I’m so sorry.”
This made him still. He looked at her with sorrow. “What did you see?”
“Everything. Lydia, the soldiers, and the man who took your eye.”
“I promised her I’d get her away.”
“It wasn’t your fault. She was going to die, anyway, a much crueler death. You did what you believed was right.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He lay back and covered his face with an arm. “I’m responsible.”
“No. That man was responsible.”
“You don’t know half of it.” He lifted his arm to look at her. “I killed him. I was supposed to fly his plane to Paris the next day. He never got to the hangar. I poisoned their food. I watched them all die slow, painful deaths, and I enjoyed it.”
“Then the world is a better place.”
“Is it? I’m no different than him.”
“Yes, you are. We’ll go to incredible lengths and do terrible things for the people we love.”
“Nobody understands that better than me. I loved her. That’s true.” He pulled her back down to him. “Now, there is you.”
“Don’t fall for me. It won’t do you any good.”
“It’s too late, beautiful. I fell the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Is it because of Lydia, because of our similar situations? You think not everything would’ve been in vain if you can save me?”
“This—us—has nothing to do with Lydia and everything with you.”
“You’re going to take out Doumar’s operation.”
“Yes.”
“Good. When you kill him, make it slow.”
A cold determination invaded his gaze. “You can count on that.”
“Promise me you’ll remember good things about me, no matter what.”
“I’m not leaving you behind, beautiful. You’re mine. Where I go, you go.”
It was better not to reply. He’d know the truth soon enough, but not now. Now, there were only them, and this moment.
“Thank you for showing me love, and kindness.”
“Sky,” he said with a reprimanding tone, “this is not the end. It’s only the beginning.”
“Yes, it is.” For him and Niels. “Why haven’t you had your eye fixed? There are prosthetics. With modern technology, it will look very real.”
“I need it as a reminder. Enough talk of that. Come here. Let me love you more before the night is over.”
She straddled him, intertwining their fingers. “Yes. Love me again. Love me like this is the beginning.”
She gasped as he lifted her hips and impaled her in one, powerful thrust while crushing their mouths together.
~ * ~
Sky woke to the smell of bacon and eggs frying. The bed was empty. She sniffed. The odor wafted through the open door. Picking Bono’s shirt up from the floor, she pulled it on and went to the door. Bono stood in front of the garden table with a spatula in his hand. A pan filled with two eggs and strips of bacon was balanced on a portable gas stove. Shirtless, with the tight jeans hugging his ass, he was mouthwateringly handsome.
He flipped the eggs and looked up with a smile. “Breakfast is ready.”
“Where did that come from?” she asked, meaning the food and the stove.
“I did some shopping at the twenty-four hour store.”
“You should’ve woken me.”
“It was early. Besides, you needed the rest.” His gaze moved over her. “Th
at looks just about right.”
“What?”
“You in my clothes.”
He turned off the gas, dropped the spatula on the table, and walked to her with long strides. With her standing on the step, they were on eye level. His hands slipped under the shirt to cup her ass.
“You’re fucking gorgeous. I can’t get enough of you.” His palms moved over her hips and thighs. “I wish we had more time.”
“You have to go?”
“After breakfast. At what time is Doumar expecting you at the club?”
“Not until eight.”
“We have an hour.” Gripping her ass cheeks, he lifted her to align her pussy with his cock.
She wrapped her legs around him and grabbed his shoulders for support.
Kissing her with the hunger of a sexually starved man, he carried her back inside and pushed her against the cold metal of the caravan wall. He broke the kiss just long enough to say, “Open my fly.”
With her back pressed up against the wall for support, she could let go of his shoulders to use her hands. She pulled down his zipper. He wasn’t wearing his briefs, making it easy for her to free his cock. His erection was rock hard and already slick from a drop of pre-cum. She guided the broad head to her opening.
“Take me,” she breathed into their kiss. “Take me hard.”
In one hard thrust, he buried himself balls deep in her body, filling her with ecstatic burning and pleasure. She moaned as he pulled out and drove back home, shifting her body up the wall.
Her head rolled back, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. “Oh, God, yes.”
At her encouragement, he pounded into her body. The relentless movement had her skin break out in goose bumps that she felt all the way to her scalp. His lovemaking was raw and desperate, and she understood why. Neither of them was ready to say goodbye.
Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 8) Page 15
