by Angel Payne
Her eyes widened a little at the most recent crack he gave her ass. The ring from it seemed to bounce off the glass, ringing in her ears. Nevertheless, she forced the words to her mouth again. “Th-thank you—”
“No,” Shay interjected. In the glass, she watched him run his hand down her spine, before swirling it across the hot spheres at the bottom. He tightened his other arm around her waist. “No more words, tiny dancer. Damn, I’m flying…and I know you are, too.”
He dropped his head around to find her lips with his. Melded with her in a long kiss, caressing her tongue like they’d never tasted each other before. And mierda, was he delicious. The tang of his beer, the salt of his sweat, and the musk of his desire…it was ambrosia to her, and she sent a little mewl up her throat to beg him for more. In Shay’s chest, a responding thunder rolled, though it never reached completion. He tore back from her with a tormented snarl across his lips.
“Christ.” His breathing was labored. “I thought the domination would be enough, but I can’t get enough of you.” He suckled at her chin, her neck, her shoulder blades with hungry abandon. “I want to fuck you, baby girl, and not just with my fingers.”
Zoe felt her head rolling back and forth, as eager a nod as she could manage in the middle of this perfect, needy haze. “Sí…Sí…echemos un polvo salvaje…por favor…”
Being able to let it all out like that just sent her mind on a wilder ride. She was lost in his embrace, her body a horny mess, the fire across her ass now blending into the tissues of her labia and making her pulse even more for the fullness of his cock. She made the message clear by undulating her whole body, straining against her tethers, forcing him to see the erect points of her nipples and the gleaming folds between her thighs.
“Damn,” Shay grated. “You had me at sí, tiny dancer.”
She tossed a little grin back up at him. “Sí.”
His gaze seemed to darken—she couldn’t tell between the shadows of the room and the haze of her arousal—before reaching into his jeans pocket and sliding out a glistening new condom packet. “I’m glad Ghid stuck this into the jeans he brought for me.”
“Yaaayyy, Ghid.”
“And I’m going to be really glad to watch you use that beautiful mouth again.”
“Mmmm. Yes, Sir.”
She bit her lips and eyed the colorful foil, wondering how the man had discerned all the deepest ways to fuck with her brain. Just looking at the thing, encased in his long, strong fingers, sent a gallon of fresh arousal to the tissues between her legs. It matched the speed of every neuron in her brain. What did he have planned for her? How would he control her this time? Would he untie the ropes and send her back to her knees…let her finally get him out of those jeans in the best way possible? Or would he order her to open the packet with her teeth while he watched with those molten, magical eyes?
He didn’t make her wait long to find out.
“Lick.” He nodded when she flashed a questioning stare. “You heard me, baby girl. Lick the package as if it’s the surface of my cock. Every inch. Every ridge. While I watch…and let imagination work its magic…”
His voice fell away into a raw diamond roughness, setting of a matching cascade through Zoe’s blood as she extended her tongue in willing obedience. As Shay turned the packet in front of her mouth to let her get both sides, she closed her eyes and joined him in his fantasy, dreaming that she licked his true flesh, serving him in one of the most special ways she could. In her vision, he teased her with his length, feeding her an inch only to draw it back, then giving her a little more with his next press in…
She moaned hard.
So did Shay.
Imagination really could work magic. The air in the room hovered on sexual tension, swirling like dawn about to break, impatient in its last minutes of darkness. Zoe smelled her sex on Shay’s fingers, and leaned forward a little to lick that from him, too. When he hissed, pulling away the packet in order to slide his digits farther into her mouth, the cloud across her senses thickened with more delicious heat. Existing solely for his pleasure, the only object completing his passion…it was a dream she didn’t even know she had. Now, this astonishment of a man granted it to her in the very same moment.
He was the Dom of all her fantasies…and more. The warrior of her fairy tales. The miracle she’d abandoned hope of ever finding.
“Zoe…fuck…you’re so perfect.”
And the guy who knew how to hit every arousal button in her body with his illicit words.
She accepted a third finger from him with a blissful sigh, opening herself for the incessant rhythm he established, in and out with force that built in direct proportion to the energy turning his whole body into a pulsing isotope of carnal need. She swayed on the ropes from the heady spell of it, her womb tightening, her pussy shivering. She almost wondered if she’d orgasm before he ever entered her.
Until he did enter her.
The violent thrust was a complete surprise. Time had been weirdly morphed. She didn’t remember him freeing himself or even sliding the condom on but there was no doubt about the mass of flesh filling her now. His invasion hurt at first, a fact that was likely never going to change, but after Zoe pulled in a breath and welcomed him into her walls, the pain became the best kind of ache her body had ever known.
He pulled his fingers from her lips in order to seize her left hip. His other hand already dug into the right side, forming a double strut that gave him complete command of her body. He sure as hell used it, pulling her back in forceful jolts as he lunged up. His lusting growl matched the harsh coil of his thigh muscles, making her realize he’d somehow shucked his pants, too.
She dragged her eyes open to gaze at their reflection now. Shay’s arms bulged out of his T-shirt as he controlled her, bent and flexed anew with every slam of their bodies. His legs were ropes of solid muscle, bent to accommodate their height difference but balanced by her weight as their passion escalated, fast and frantic and feral, into an animal-style fuck. In every flex of his tendons and drive of his body, one truth blared for Zoe, brighter than the dawn that was about to crest for them both.
He needed this. Needed her.
Making her wish the sunrise would never come.
Her body, the traitorous bitch, had a thoroughly different desire. Every time Shay drove into her, he took another shred of her restraint against the sweet, sharp pressure in her body…the rays of her sun just beyond the silhouettes of the night. His flesh was everywhere, buried so deep inside her that the sack at his base tapped an enticing rhythm against some of her most sensitive tissues. She sobbed against the encroachment. Wasn’t heaven supposed to last forever? And couldn’t heaven be just as beautiful in the darkness as the light?
Shay increased his tempo. Grunted harder as his cock swelled bigger.
“Oh, Zoe. Sweet baby girl,” he growled. “Here it comes. Here it comes.”
No. No.
Yes, Yes.
The sun burst over them both, brilliant and blinding as the hugest star in the sky. Certainly that was what he’d transformed her into, a consideration that made Zoe smile as her limbs transformed to light, her mind became a cosmos, and her heart flew into a sky that glowed forever, bright and blue and warm…so wonderful and warm…
No. No.
She heard the words fall from her lips out loud as Shay slipped her wrists free from their bonds and caught her limp body against his. “Ssshhh.” It was a murmur and order in one, vibrating from his mouth into her forehead as he scooped her up and carried her to the bed.
She protested again as he placed her beneath the sheets. “It’s c-c-cold,” she managed, beginning to shiver.
“I know,” he said, climbing in next to her. “Come.”
Like he had to bother with that one. Zoe fitted herself to the crook of his arm in seconds, sighing in bliss as he raised his hand, so big and warm, to stroke the length of her back.
“Air conditioning,” she mumbled, suddenly swept by exhaustion.
“Damn force of nature.”
Shay’s answer came with the first smile she’d heard in his voice since he returned. “Force of nature? I think that’s you, my little hostage…not the air ducts.”
* * * * *
“Mierda.”
She whispered the word before even looking for the clock.
They’d both fallen asleep fast and obviously slept like a pair of corpses, because sunlight bathed the room now. Judging by the heatwaves pulsing on the outside of the glass, it had to be close to the middle of the day.
Laughter from the living room caught her attention. It sounded like Ryder—and Dan Colton, the CIA agent. Music, sweeping and dramatic, was a backing soundtrack, interrupted by a bunch of video game explosions. Well, there was an interesting friendship in the making.
She snuggled a little closer to Shay, breathing in the perfect smell of him. The cotton of his T-shirt. The natural pine of his skin. The lingering spice from their sex. As she rubbed her foot along the inside of his calf, the scent was stirred a little—and instantly awakened all the juices in her body that mattered the most. A smile bloomed on her lips. She’d never really gotten to wrap her mouth around him last night. Maybe now was the ideal opportunity…
“Hey.” Shay’s sleepy mutter tilted her gaze up. “Good morning—errr, afternoon?”
Zoe laughed. “I guess we were tired.”
He hooked an arm behind his head, angling his gaze a little better at her. “How long have you been awake?”
“Just a couple of minutes.” She curled an impish grin. “Don’t worry. I kept busy.”
That made his gaze narrow before he drawled, “Doing what?”
“Hmmm. Well, smelling you, for one thing.”
“What?” He glared like she’d just admitted to being the mastermind behind Rickrolling. “Smelling me? Why?”
“Ay.” She threw back a mock scowl. “Because I couldn’t before now, all right?”
“I stink.”
“Not as bad as Ryder’s cat.” She rolled her eyes. “He thought I was pining for you. He got really worried, so he lent Fluffy to me.”
“Did he really named his cat Fluffy?”
“He rescued it. And he was drunk.”
During the explanation, Shay took a tentative whiff at his armpit. And grimaced. “Shit. That does it. No more smelling until I’m out of the shower.”
Before Zoe could object, he lurched out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. While the shower started, she got up and lowered the blinds on one side of the room. She wasn’t able to do anything with the other side, since she couldn’t reach high enough to release the linen ropes from last night. In a way, she was glad for that. Gazing at the ropes made her long for the night again already.
She walked over and wrapped a hand around the soft white length, pulling the rope taut while gliding her fingers down until she got to the aperture her wrist had fit through. Simply connecting to the rope like this beaded her nipples, sent demanding pulses to her pussy, and made her excruciatingly aware of her harsh sighs on the air.
She needed Shay again.
Screw waiting on him to finish the shower.
Chapter Nineteen
Shay clenched himself back from bellowing the f word for the fifth time in as many minutes, but succeeded in peeling the last bandage away from his torso without a sound. When he freed the worn gauze, he tossed the bloody mess of it over the shower glass, his muscles protesting the action.
Okay, so giving in to the temptation of screwing Zoe wasn’t the best idea for facilitation of his physical recovery. But damn, the wonders it had performed for his soul.
If it had been real.
Half his mind still expected to wake up on the gurney back at the lab, having dreamt every incredible second after Ghid drove him free from A-51. But his ears confirmed the thunk as the wadded bandage touched down in the trash can across the bathroom, and his lips felt real as he gave himself a mental high-five for the swoosh. He hadn’t been as lucky with his other attempts. Several bloodied squares littered the floor around the receptacle, a gruesome graveyard in memory of his nightmare.
His nightmare.
If it were only that easy…
Being in Spec Ops ensured he’d seen enough mind-benders over the years to logically pick apart what was going on in the gray matter. Thinking of trauma as a dream made it easier to handle in the short run. They even encouraged the tactic, at least for a limited time, until a guy had the ability to “adequately process” the ordeal. The thing was, Shay had always laughed at all that crap. Adequate processing? Pffft. Separation from missions, and any horrors they’d involved, was as easy for him as turning off a shitty TV show. Out of sight, out of mind.
Out of sight? Fat fucking chance now, when the simple act of washing his balls made him look at half a dozen incision sites inflicted by those science shits. Out of mind? Not when he’d spent days staring at white prison walls and wondering how an act of boyhood innocence had turned him into a freak, sliced and diced like experimental sushi.
He rammed the soap back into the holder. Then let his hand trail down his chest and stomach, stopping to run a finger over the thick black threads they’d used to sew him back together. Some of the incisions were newer than others, and stung when he fingered them. The older ones were still sensitive but painless, the skin light pink in its freshly healed state.
He wrenched his hand away. And wondered if this was how Frankenstein felt after the lightning storm passed.
A movement in his peripheral snapped his head up. Shit. This was the moment the dream would end.
No. Worse.
Zoe stood there, doing her best to rein in the shock dropping her mouth and the horror darkening her eyes.
He actually wished for the fucking gurney again. Even that was better than witnessing the revulsion on her face. And the sadness. And the goddamn pity. This was why he’d kept his shirt on last night, and why he’d waited to shed his jeans until she was swept away by too much lust to notice the gouges on his thighs.
It was why he spun from her now, driving a fist against the stall wall. “You want to respect the closed door and go out the way you came?”
“Shay—”
“I said get out, Zoe. This time I mean it!”
“And if I don’t? You’ll do what?”
He froze, gut churning. He was furious with her but enraged at himself. Her insolence was unacceptable but so was his shame. She was right. How could he discipline her if he couldn’t even look at her? But he was stuck in this mental space, unable to get the fuck over it. He’d finally met a woman he burned to be a hero for—and the first who’d never see him that way.
“Go. Away. And take the fucking pity with you.”
There was no backtalk to that. Not a sound from her side of the glass at all. Had the stubborn little thing actually listened to him? Ten more seconds of silence passed before he let out his breath in relief, then grabbed the soap again—
Just as Zoe opened the shower door and stepped in with him.
“Zoe! Fuck!”
“Shut up.”
His brows shot up before he could stop them. “What the—no. Goddamnit, this isn’t—”
“Shut. Up.”
She shoved on his sternum. The push wasn’t hard but astonishment added a wallop he didn’t anticipate, knocking him against the wall. An incensed growl rushed out of his chest but the string of profanity waiting on his verbal tarmac never took off—officially grounded by the sweet, wet kiss she pulled him into.
Shit. It was weird yet fucking exciting to be the pursued for once, to feel her needing him with the passion he’d always instigated.
For just a few seconds, he let himself revel in the switch.
Through the next few, he braced himself for the return of her repulsion.
It would come. Any second now. As she stepped back and got her close-up view of his mutilated flesh…
Slowly, Zoe drew her lips away. Carefully, she pushed back by a ste
p. In agony, Shay waited for her gaze to drop—and her disgust to begin.
She might as well have shoved him back another time.
Her eyes did drop. But so did her head. As Shay watched, his lungs hoarding his breath and shock clamping the rest of him, Zoe closed her lips over the first set of his stitches. He gaped at her for several stunned seconds before the indignation and fury crashed in, pulling one of his hands up in preparation to shove her free. He’d take her revulsion over her pity; her honesty over her obligation.
But then she moved her mouth to the second wound.
And never once lifted her lips off his skin.
Her tongue flicked out, trailing fire to his flesh in open oral adoration…
Matched exactly by the twin blue flames of her eyes as she looked back up to him.
“Christ,” he rasped. “Zoe.”
She pressed him to the wall again. He moved willingly this time, letting his hand continue to her, now trailing his thumb along the exquisite line of her cheekbone. She pulled her mouth off his torso for a second to turn and kiss his palm before grabbing his fingers and lowering his hand. After gently worshipping the third set of his stitches, she spoke a supplication into the hollow of his navel.
“You’re so beautiful. All of you.”
An incredulous laugh tumbled from him. He couldn’t help it. “I’m so—”
“Ssshhh.”
She rasped that across the tip of his cock.
Her ministrations down his torso already had him half erect. With the perfect wisp of her kiss, his penis surged to full attention. He stared back down just in time to watch her lowering completely to her knees, already going for his ball sack with her fingers.
“Fuck!”
His pre-cum rose, hot and thick. His beautiful little toy was ready, cleaning the drops from his head before the shower could, her tongue soft and perfect against his head. A groan tumbled from him as she continued on, wrapping her mouth completely around his tip, teasing mercilessly at his throbbing crest. At the same time, she cupped his balls with fearless pressure, somehow knowing he liked being on the receiving end of intensity, too.
