Alien Tange (2)

by Gini Koch

  “Does she do that on purpose?”

  “Sometimes. Not always. She can’t see us, and she can’t hear us unless she’s talking to us via the ’com.”

  Thank God. We walked by the food and gift areas. Not exactly private. However, there was a door between the last shop and the parking area. I led us over there—it said “Maintenance,” but it was locked. It was also very out of the way, and the noise from the parking lot was loud, meaning it would drown out any suspicious noises.

  Martini walked us out to the parking area, reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a thin case. As he opened it, I realized it was a set of lock-picking tools. “You’re trained to pick locks?” Why wasn’t I trained to pick locks?

  “Yep.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll teach you once you’re done learning to fly.”

  “Promise?”

  “Of course. Now, wait here. I’m going to disable the camera for this area, open the door, get you in there, and then get the camera back up so we don’t get inquisitive visitors.”

  “Check the soundproofing.”

  He grinned, left his rolling bag with me and disappeared. I counted and listened hard. He was back in eight seconds, grabbed me and the bags, and whooshed me off into the room. While my stomach settled, he disappeared again, was back in three seconds, door closed behind him.

  “Sure you weren’t spotted?” Now that he was back, I took a look around. It was a somewhat spacious utility closet, with toilet paper, paper towels, cleaning supplies, and similar items stocked inside.

  Martini snorted. “No, I checked.” Hyperspeed was a wonderful thing. “And I shouted a lot. Hear anything?”

  “Not a sound.”

  “Good.” Martini locked the door and also hooked our suitcases and my purse under the handle. Then he turned around, a very sexy half-smile on his face. He unbuttoned his jacket, his eyes smoldering. Just looking at him made my breathing get heavy. “C’mere, baby.”

  CHAPTER 18

  MARTINI REACHED OUT AND PULLED me into his arms. One hand hooked into my hair, the other slid down my back. He kissed me, strong and almost predatory. I melted against him. He leaned against the only open wall space in the room and slid one leg between mine. I ground against his thigh.

  “You were a bad girl,” he said, as he moved my head and ran his tongue over my neck. I tried to protest, but my neck was one of my main erogenous zones, and he knew it. “Lusting after other men.”

  “No,” I managed to gasp out. “I wasn’t.” It was a lie, but that was part of the fun.

  He pulled my head back as I’d done to Thompson, but gently. “Liar.” He ran his teeth over the front of my neck, as if he were going to rip my throat out. My breathing went ragged, my hands clawed at his chest, and my thighs locked around his leg.

  He undid my jacket with his other hand. I wore a spaghetti-strap shelf-bra top under this particular suit. He slid the shelf portion from under my breasts, and then his mouth moved from my throat to my chest, while he kept my head pulled back.

  Martini teased one breast and then the other with his lips, tongue, and teeth. He was the only man to ever bring me to orgasm at second base, and he was still batting a thousand. I was glad he’d checked the soundproofing, because I was howling.

  He let my head up, and I ripped his shirt open. The sight of his incredible pecs, rippling torso and truly rock-hard abs, dusted with just the right amount of hair, did to me what it always did. I lunged at his chest—I had to have my mouth on it, all over it.

  He gave a low, purrlike growl. “That’s a good girl. But you haven’t been good enough yet.” He ran his fingers through my hair and directed my head. His other hand spent its time alternating between stroking my neck and my breast.

  I slid my hands down his body to his pants. These I undid slowly while he thrust against me. While my tongue lapped at the hollow between his pecs, my hands found what I had come to consider the greatest appendage in the history of the world. He was hard as steel and felt like velvet against my skin. I ran my hands over him until my whole body was shaking with desire.

  He pulled my head away from his body. His eyes were half-closed and he shook his head with a low chuckle. “Bad girls don’t get what they want right away.” He slid his hands down my arms and pulled my hands away, putting them behind my back. He held my wrists in one hand, while he toyed with my breasts with the other.

  I moaned. “I’ll . . . be good.” His hand slid down my body and then moved my skirt up. His fingers stroked my thighs. “Jeff ... please ... ”

  “Please what?” His smile was wider, but still predatory. His fingers slid beneath my underwear. I couldn’t talk, almost couldn’t breathe. I could wail, and I did, as my eyes rolled back while he stroked and teased me. His fingers moved so fast and expertly, this orgasm crashed fast and hard. “Mmmm, that’s nice. Almost makes me willing to punish you a little more.”

  “Oh, God, please Jeff . . . please . . . ”

  “Please what?” His voice was low and silky. “What do you want, baby?”

  There was only one thing in the world I wanted right now. He knew, of course, but he liked to make me tell him aloud. “I need you . . . inside me. Please, Jeff . . . ” His fingers started up again. It was wonderful, but tormenting, because the part of him inside me wasn’t what my body craved.

  “How badly do you want it?”

  “More . . . than anything.” This was true. When he had me like this, there was nothing I wanted more than to have him deep inside of me. Of course, I wanted the same thing when I wasn’t at the edge of sexual insanity, too, but that wasn’t important now.

  His mouth covered mine, and his tongue slid in as his fingers slid out and moved around to my back. Martini let go of my wrists, slipped both hands down, cupped my bottom and lifted me up. As my legs released his, he stripped my underwear off. He spun us around, so my back was against the wall. His fingers kneaded my flesh as I kicked my shoes off.

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. He growled and pulled me closer to him while his mouth moved back to my neck. I managed to moan his name and grind my pelvis against his.

  “That’s what I want,” he whispered against my neck. I writhed against him; his tongue and teeth were on a spot that turned me incoherent. Then his hands guided me onto him—the fireworks went off in my brain, and coherency wasn’t something I was concerned about any more.

  My hands clutched at him and my mouth was open, but this orgasm was so intense I couldn’t make a sound. His mouth covered mine again as he wrapped his arms around me. His thrusts were hard and fast and kept my orgasm going.

  Our kiss got deeper and more intense as my latest climax subsided. I ran my hands through his hair and rocked my hips to keep Martini as deep inside me as possible. We slammed into each other over and over.

  My whole body felt like an erogenous zone—any place it touched his tingled and burned. Martini’s chest rubbed against my breasts while his hands roamed my backside, causing shock waves of pleasure to course through me. I slid my legs down and pushed against his behind to help him go deeper. Our movements were frenzied, and I screamed into his kiss, as another orgasm crashed over me.

  His head reared back, and he roared as he exploded inside me. The room spun as my orgasm spiked in time to his—I buried my face in his neck and sobbed from erotic overload as our bodies throbbed together.

  After what seemed like hours, our bodies began to calm, the throbbing diminished to weak pulsation, then slowed to gradual stop. Martini kissed my head, and I managed to move so he could reach my mouth. His kiss was tender and soft, and my body relaxed as he guided me to the floor, still kissing me.

  I didn’t want this to end, but then, I never did. However, duty called and I had to figure, out of the way and soundproofed or not, someone was going to bang on the door soon to determine just how a cat in heat had gotten locked inside.

  Martini smiled against my mouth. “You worry too
much.”

  “Mmmm, you always give me good reason.”

  “As long as it’s always good.”

  “Always.” He kissed me deeply again, and I decided to push worrying off for another long while.

  CHAPTER 19

  MARTINI PULLED AWAY FROM ME slowly and stroked my face. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Jeff.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing in this world matters more to me than you. Your happiness, your safety. I’d lock you up at the Science Center to keep you out of this situation, but I know you’d get out somehow.”

  “I would, because I won’t let anything happen to you, either.”

  He gave me a small grin. “I know. That’s what I tell myself every time we’re in danger—at least I’m there to catch you when you fall.” He meant this literally—there had been more times than I could count now where he’d just managed to catch me before I’d splatted onto the ground.

  “Someone has to keep your hearts beating.” Also meant literally. I’d plunged the adrenaline harpoon into his hearts the second day we’d known each other. It was almost romantic, sort of “our thing”—he’d catch me, I’d stab him with a huge needle. Maybe we were adrenaline junkies, the Sid and Nancy of Centaurion Division.

  He slid my top back up, taking time to stroke my breasts. I would have zipped his pants, but we’d learned that any time I did this we somehow ended up with fewer clothes on. I was willing to take the risk, but before I could suggest it, my phone rang.

  I sighed and went to the door. Martini slipped my underwear back on me while I rummaged through my purse. He also took a moment to rub himself against me but stopped when I answered the phone. I was going to hate whoever was calling me.

  “Girlfriend, hope you’re dressed, because it’s time to go.”

  “I hate you, James.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure. Just hustle, we need to be in the air yesterday.”

  Reader gave me the gate number, we hung up, and I traded my phone for my brush. “James says we have to hurry.”

  Martini smoothed my skirt down, taking the opportunity to rub up against me again. “I can’t find your shoe.” He handed me one of them.

  “I kicked them off.”

  “Yeah, you really did. This one was stuck in the ceiling.”

  “Not my fault it’s a stiletto.”

  “No complaints from me. Just saying I can’t find the other one.”

  I finished brushing my hair and took a look around. “Oh, there it is.” It was stabbed into a roll of toilet paper.

  He pulled it out. “How did you get it stuck in there?”

  “No idea. I wasn’t paying attention to anything but you.”

  “Well, that’s how it should be.” He knelt down and slipped the shoe onto my foot. He looked up, and his expression was hard to read. He looked as though he wanted to tell me something. Or maybe ask me something. My heart started beating faster. I didn’t know if I was ready for what he might suggest, but at the same time, I didn’t know if I wasn’t any longer.

  Martini took a deep breath, but before he could say anything the lock turned and someone pushed against the door. He closed his eyes, and I could see disappointment flit across his face. Then he stood up and pulled me behind him.

  He put his hand against the door. A-Cs were stronger than humans, so the door stayed shut. Martini handed me my purse and slid my bag to me. He moved his away also, then looked over his shoulder. “It’s a human and doesn’t feel like a threat. You want to handle it?”

  This was the male way of admitting I’d handle any situation that required lying better. “Sure.” I let him keep the illusion he was generously giving me a chance to take the lead as opposed to mentioning that he needed me to and I’d take it anyway. My mother hadn’t raised a total idiot.

  Martini opened the door, and we were greeted by the sight of a very nervous maintenance worker with an empty cart. His eyes widened when he saw us. “What . . . what are you doing in here?”

  “Hi!” I moved from behind Martini, grabbed several rolls of toilet paper, and barreled out the door. The maintenance man moved back to let us out. “Sorry about that. Can you believe they told us to get more toilet paper for the flight ourselves? The cost-cutting is incredible when they make a pilot do this sort of thing, don’t you think?” I jerked my head toward Martini, who caught on, grabbed a couple of rolls, and stalked out behind me.

  “I went to flight school for this,” he muttered, not looking at the maintenance man.

  To me, this indicated Martini’s still almost-total lack of ability to lie. To the maintenance man, however, it showed Martini’s shame. “Oh, man, that sucks. Here, wait a sec.” The maintenance man went inside, grabbed a full carton of TP, and handed it to us. He took the single rolls back. “You guys just take that whole box. Maybe you won’t have to stock up next flight.”

  Martini gave me a “what now?” look. “Great. Jeff, can you carry the box all by yourself?”

  I got the “I may love you but I really hate you right now” look. “Sure.” He hoisted it easily. The man could lift me with one hand, a carton of rolled paper wasn’t going to pose a challenge. “Thanks,” he added to the maintenance man.

  I gave the man a quick hug. “You’re the greatest.”

  We left him smiling and shaking his head over how bad things in the airline industry were. “What the hell am I going to do with this box?” Martini asked me as we rounded the corner.

  “Um, take it with us. Our new friend won’t say a thing if he never sees the box again. But if he spots it dumped somewhere, then he might mention this to someone else.”

  “I hate my life.”

  “I think I could take that personally.”

  “Other than you. And other than at this moment.”

  “Think we were spotted coming out of the closet?”

  “Maybe. There are no alarms going off, so maybe your toilet paper ploy will mean I don’t have to have Christopher alter footage.”

  “See? My plans always work.”

  He snorted. “Right.”

  We went to the appropriate gate and caught up with the others. The looks on their faces were priceless. I knew Martini was going to make me pay for them later.

  “Wow, glad you two think of everything,” Reader said with a huge grin.

  “You trying to tell us something?” Christopher asked.

  “I went already,” Tim added.

  Gower shook his head. “And, somehow, you’ve been in charge of all Field operations for almost ten years.”

  “You never want to run out,” I reminded them.

  “I hate each and every one of you,” Martini said. “Can we get going?”

  “Gee,” Kevin said from behind us, “I didn’t think my coming along would necessitate the need for extra supplies.”

  “Everyone’s a comedian,” Martini muttered.

  “You’re coming with us?” I wasn’t disappointed, and I could see Reader wasn’t either.

  He nodded. “The situation’s under control here, but from what Paul told me, I think it’ll be a help if I go along for the next event. If that’s okay with you,” he said to Martini.

  “Sure,” Martini sighed. “The more the merrier.” He tossed the box to Tim, who just managed to catch it. “Oh, I just remembered—you report to me.”

  “Technically,” Tim said, voice muffled by the box, “I report to Kitty.”

  “In a field situation,” I recited from memory, “we all report to Jeff.” I’d never followed this particular rule, but I was willing to pretend, especially since I knew it was taking effort for Martini to remain genial toward Kevin for a variety of reasons, my finding Kevin a hunk and a half being only one of them.

  Our gray, mostly unmarked jet was docked and ready. Alicia was with us to say good-bye, and she escorted us down the ramp. I saw her slip a piece of paper into Tim’s inner jacket pocket. Then he moved the box, and I couldn’t see their faces. However, Alicia was blushing an
d looking really girlish as we dragged Tim onto the plane. She waved to us, and then the door closed, and we were back in action.

  Reader and Tim were handling the flying and navigation, respectively, so the rest of us got to relax. The plane was the same one I’d ridden in the first day I’d discovered we had real live aliens on the planet. It was designed with comfort in mind—the seats were wide and cushy, and there was enough leg room so Martini could stretch out without issue.

  The plane also had a nice galley and a bedroom that doubled as a medical bay. As much as I wanted to earn Mile High Miles with Martini, I didn’t want to do it with everyone else inside the cabin. Even if I could manage to make love to him silently—so far a feat never accomplished—they’d still know. I felt it might affect my performance, so instead of dragging him to the back, I settled in the seat next to him. The others spread out behind us, one to a set of two seats.

  The seats reclined, so as soon as we were up in the air, Christopher handed out full-sized pillows and blankets, and everyone leaned back. It was after midnight—the snores were immediate. I looked around—Kevin was following suit and looked asleep.

  I moved the armrest between me and Martini up and snuggled next to him. He put his arm around me and tucked the blanket. My hand strayed below his belt. He caught it in his, brought it up to his lips and kissed my fingers. “Bad girl,” he murmured, with a very cat-satisfied look on his face.

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  He put my hand onto his shoulder, then slid his finger under my chin and tilted my head. He kissed me deeply, then cuddled me closer. “Sleep time.”

  “Okay.” I leaned against his chest, and dozed off.

  Some turbulence woke me up. It seemed like nothing, but I wasn’t sleepy any more. Martini’s breathing was rhythmical. I closed my eyes. Nothing. And if I wasn’t sleepy, being cuddled next to Martini didn’t make me tired—it made me horny.

  I moved slowly out of his embrace, tucked the blankets around him, and stroked his hair. He heaved a contented sigh. I kissed his forehead and moved into the aisle. Everyone was snoozing. I resisted the impulse to tuck the blanket around Christopher—there was never going to be a good reason to put either one of us into a situation that could be remotely taken for romantic. Martini had been very clear—I’d made my one and only allowable romantic mistake already. If I made another one, Martini was out of my life forever.