by Desiree Holt
Oh Jesus!
How was it possible that every time he tasted her, it was better than the time before? She was an erotic combination of sweet and tart, and the scent of her filled his nostrils. He tugged lightly at her clit with his teeth, drawing erotic sounds of response from her throat. She pressed her hands against his shoulders to balance herself, her fingers digging into him as he lapped and nipped and sucked.
Lifting one of her legs, he draped it over his shoulder, giving himself complete access. Rimming her opening with his tongue, he drank her juices before sliding one finger into her. Immediately her internal muscles clutched at him and her hips glided back and forth. He added another finger. Then a third. Pulling her clit into his mouth again, he sucked hard as he thrust his fingers in and out in a fast glide. Curling them to drag against her slick flesh, loving the feel of her. Her hips rocked as she rode his hand and little cries burst from her, making him even more aroused than he had been.
She came without warning, her body stiffening, her juices pouring into his hand while the walls of her cunt clenched over and over. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her hips thrust forward as she drove herself down onto his fingers, her body shuddering.
At last the tension eased, her muscles softened and he slid his hand free. Looking up into her eyes, he carefully licked her juice from each finger. Her eyes were slumberous, heavy-lidded with satisfaction, yet the heat of arousal still danced in them. Her irises had deepened from emerald to forest green and her cheeks held a hot blush.
Regan drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she dropped down in front of him. “My turn.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“Hold that thought.” He rose lithely to his feet, shucked his shoes and the rest of his clothes, and rummaged in a nightstand drawer for the condoms that he knew were stashed there. He didn’t know who was responsible for the sexual wellbeing of the team and, up until now, he hadn’t cared. Right at this moment, though, he was ready to send them thanks and blessings, because he hadn’t needed or bought condoms in a long time.
When he turned, Regan had risen from the floor and was standing beside him.
“You.” She pushed against his chest. “There.” She pointed. “On the bed. Now.”
He might have laughed at her bossiness but he was so turned on he could barely scrape a thought together. Instead he fell back on the bed, his pulse racing as Regan climbed up and knelt between his thighs. He hoped she didn’t plan to play a lot because he wasn’t sure how long his control would hold out.
But the moment she reached between his thighs to cup his balls and drew her tongue the length of his cock, he wanted to figure out how to let her do that for a very long time.
Her fingers were gentle, her tongue like a swipe of velvet. She licked slowly, root to tip and back again. Shivers raced over his skin at her touch. She took the head into her mouth so she could circle her tongue over the sensitive skin. Prod the slit at the tip. Suck the pre-cum deep into her throat.
Regan took her time and when he looked at her through slitted eyes, the pleasure on her face nearly undid him. So many years had passed since a woman had pleasured him. Since he’d wanted a woman to pleasure him. He was torn between hoping it continued forever and praying he reached that pinnacle she was driving him toward so skillfully with her hands and mouth.
One hand still continued to cup and fondle his sac while the fingers of the other now curled gently around his shaft, sliding up and down with the same tempo as her mouth. When her head dipped lower and her mouth engulfed his entire cock, the head of it bumping the back of her throat, he had to fist the covers hard to keep himself from exploding. The temptation was so great he wanted to just sink into it. But the memory of her pussy, so tight around him, overrode everything else.
Sliding his hands into her hair, he lifted her head, forcing it up. Her deep-green eyes held a puzzled look.
“What…?”
“Inside you.” He was desperate now. “I want to come inside you.”
He reached over to the nightstand for one of the condoms he’d dropped there, his hands shaking as he tore open the foil.
“Let me.”
Regan’s smile was both sultry and self-satisfied as she took the condom from his hand and rolled it over his throbbing dick so slowly, he was afraid he’d come before she finished. But then he was ready—oh yeah, he was more than ready—and he helped her position herself above him until the head of his cock nudged her opening. With one swift movement, he pulled her down upon him, groaning as he filled her completely.
Her tight, wet walls gripped him like a vise and her beautiful breasts were right there in his face. He couldn’t resist taking a moment to suck both nipples, dragging his teeth over the tight buds before setting up a hard, heavy rhythm for their bodies.
He was so close to the edge. He tried to hold back for her, thinking that with her recent orgasm she might need a little more time. But she was right there with him—hot and ready, her body sending him signals. Passion heated her cheeks and her eyes softened and glazed. He drove up deep inside her one last time, thrusting hard, feeling her body tighten with the need to climax.
And he let go.
When the explosion came he was afraid the top of his head would blow off. He lost all sense of self, focused only on the spasms shaking them both, the rapid beating of his heart, the sensation of falling through space without a safety net as he came and came and came.
When the last spasm had subsided, Regan fell forward, draping herself across his chest like a blanket. Her tousled hair was soft against his skin, her flesh warm and satisfying. He thought maybe he could stay this way forever.
And he realized that after all this time, he was finally creeping out of his self-imposed prison and learning to feel again.
Chapter Eight
Brad DeWitt was sitting in his desk chair, turned sideways and staring out the window, a strange look in his eyes, when Garth knocked on the doorframe. The chief turned back to face him and the lines of strain and tension on his face were all too obvious. He motioned Garth forward.
“Come in, come in. And close the door.”
Garth had sent everything he’d found on his computer to his Evernote program on his tablet before leaving his office, so he’d have it all handy. He wasn’t sure exactly how his boss would take what he had to say and he wanted to be as prepared as possible. He lowered himself into one of the chairs facing the desk and wondered exactly how to begin here. How to open the subject.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh, been doing a little research on my own, Chief, and I found some things I’d like to run by you. Although you might find some of it a little bizarre.”
“Bizarre?” Brad’s voice had an odd tone to it. “Funny you should use that word. Before we get into whatever’s on your mind, I just had a conversation with the governor’s friend, Craig Stafford. The guy I mentioned earlier. And bizarre was the same word that came to my mind.”
Garth studied the older man. More than just strain was etched on his face. What could be going on that was weirder than what he had to tell him? Deciding to wait and see what his boss had to say about his conversation with Stafford, he leaned back in the chair and did his best to be patient.
Brad stared at a point somewhere beyond Garth’s head for a long moment before he spoke again.
“Craig Stafford is not a man who seeks publicity,” he began, the tone of his voice still not quite normal. “You seldom read about him in the newspapers and almost never see him interviewed on television. Which is unusual for a man who is one of the ten richest in the world.”
Garth merely nodded his head.
Brad gave him a curious stare. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“When you, uh, mentioned him earlier, I decided to see what I could find out about him. That was one of the facts that popped up.”
“Of course. I should have fig
ured. Your thirst for information is one of the things that make you such a good Ranger. Anyway.” He gazed out the window again. “There’s a term in literature and the performing arts called ‘willing suspension of disbelief’. You know what that means, Garth?”
“I do. It means you suspend your normal rational thought process to accept facts or performances that might otherwise not be believable.”
“Yes. That’s it. Well, that’s what I’m going to ask you to do. For a few moments, anyway. If you tell me I’m crazy after that, well—we’ll see.” He turned back to Garth. “You’re Texas born and bred. You must have heard the legend of the Chupacabra. The so-called goatsucker. Right?”
A knot of anticipation curled in Garth’s stomach. Was that what his boss had discussed with Stafford? And was Garth right after all? Was the Chupacabra more than a legend and now killing people in its own horrific way?
“I have,” he said at last. “A lot of people think it’s more than just a myth.”
“Apparently Craig Stafford does. And he seems to have proof to back it up.” He pushed a button on his intercom. “Stella? I wouldn’t normally ask, but could you possibly get coffee for Garth and me? I think we’ll need it.”
“Sure, boss,” her voice came back. “Be right there with it.”
“We’ll wait a minute on this,” Brad said.
Acceding to his boss’s wishes, Garth forced himself to wait patiently until Stella had brought in two mugs and set them on the desk.
“Hold my calls, will you?” Brad asked her. “We’ll be a while here.”
As soon as the door closed, Brad lifted his mug, took a healthy swallow of the hot liquid and carefully set the mug back down on his desk.
“Get out that willing suspension, Garth, because I have a story to tell you that’s going to require it.”
Garth thought he was prepared for whatever the chief threw at him, but even he was stunned to learn about Night Seekers, about the money Craig Stafford had put into the effort to find and eliminate the vicious icon of folklore. The tragedies that each of the team members had suffered. And beyond that—the new working theory they had. It was a lot to absorb, more than he’d been prepared for.
“So there it is,” Brad said. “What do you think?”
Garth sipped his coffee, giving himself a moment to digest everything. Here he’d thought he’d have a hard time persuading the chief to accept what he’d researched, and the man had thrown him an unexpected curve.
“Okay.” He leaned forward. “First of all, I think if we hook up with this guy it will get the governor off your back in more ways than one. He’s already driving you nuts about the effect on tourism because it happened in such a public place.”
“And a tourist hotspot,” Brad pointed out.
“Right. Anything that affects tourism negatively puts a burr up everyone’s ass.” He blew out a breath. “I had some stuff noodling around in the back of my mind, so I was in my office looking up this Stafford guy, and also doing a major Google search on El Chupacabra. I found a lot but not nearly as much as you just laid on me. And you’re telling me he has scientists working on this? Doing autopsies on the bodies of the beasts his team has killed?”
The chief nodded. “There’s a breeding farm somewhere, he and his people are convinced of it. And I have to say, with so many attacks happening in so many places over a relatively short period of time, I can’t think of any other explanation. What did you find out?”
Garth took his tablet and pulled up his notes. “Basically that there is definitely more than one of them. That it began by killing small animals, nothing larger than a goat, and at some point progressed to killing people.” He looked across the desk. “I wonder how many of the reports I found are actually precursors to what Craig Stafford told you? I mean, he’s got eight people who lost someone to the beast, and that’s in addition to what the newspapers have reported or what’s been written in science and science fiction journals. People are going to want to sweep this under the rug, you know that.”
“I do. Nobody wants to give legitimacy to something that sounds so farfetched.”
“But if he’s right—and I’m not saying just yet that he is—then we have neither the resources nor the manpower to deal with this.”
“He knows that,” Brad agreed. “He suggested we meet with members of his team and see if we can develop a working relationship.” He scraped his hand across his face. “I tell you, Garth, I can’t even believe I’m saying these things. I like to think I’m a pragmatic person. I’ve learned to deal with facts and hard evidence. This?” He waved his hand in the air. “If it gets out I’m even considering something like this, I’ll be the laughingstock of the state of Texas. Maybe even lose my job.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Chief.” Garth hitched his chair a little closer, tapped his tablet and brought up a document. “Here.” He turned it around so Brad could look at it. “Read this.”
“Ric Garza?” Brad cocked an eyebrow. “Why is that name familiar?”
“I’m surprised Craig didn’t mention him. Up until two years ago, he was a Texas Ranger. Attached to Company F in San Antonio. I only knew him casually but he was considered an excellent Ranger.”
“What did you hear about his reason for leaving?”
“Just that his mother died and he had some problems dealing with it.”
Brad studied the picture on the tablet screen. “Everyone Craig chose for this team lost an immediate family member to what he calls the devil beast. I’m going to make an educated guess that’s how Ric’s mother died. And if his findings are right, that terminology is very appropriate.”
“Why didn’t Ric contact us?” Garth wondered. “No, strike that. I’m sure he didn’t think we’d be any more receptive than any of the other law enforcement agencies they’ve worked with. So what happens next?”
“Stafford asked if I would be willing to assign someone to liaise with Night Seekers. Share information and take advantage of their resources.” He studied the younger man. “I wasn’t sure who I’d be able to tap for that, but if you’re already into this story…”
Garth scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I sure don’t think anyone else here at headquarters would jump on it. They’d probably write the whole thing off as insane.” He fiddled with his mug. “But I have a much more open mind to stuff like this. I don’t think we can afford to ignore anything. Ever.”
“Okay then.” The chief picked up a slip of paper and handed it to him. “Here’s the number at their base of operations. A ranch just northwest of San Antonio. Ask for Ric, since you knew him at least a little from his Ranger days. Craig said he’d give him a heads up. Call him today. Set something up.”
“I think it will work better if I go there,” Garth said. “Let’s keep all of this under the radar until I know if what I suspect is reality.”
“That’s fine. If you’ve got any open cases, give them to Stella and I’ll clear them off your assignment sheet.”
Garth rose, drained his coffee and set the mug back down. He picked up the slip of paper and his tablet. “You know they might want to be able to tap into some of our resources too,” he warned.
Brad waved his hand. “Whatever. Just make it work before we have another killing. Another disaster. And a media explosion.”
* * * * *
The beast had slept throughout the day, tired from assuming a different shape and racing to get away from the huge, thundering herd that frightened it. The chip in its brain had sent it toward the isolated big house, but there were too many of the huge creatures around there. Why didn’t its brain know that ahead of time?
The huge blazing ball in the sky had beat down mercilessly, nearly baking the beast. It managed to chase and trap two small animals, slaking its thirst on the blood and its hunger on the flesh before finding a cool place to hide.
The small structure standing all alone in the middle of the vast lands stretching out to the hills called to it. The signal in it
s brain beeped at the sight of it. The massive creatures that threatened were far away, prevented by some kind of fence from getting close. Now if only one of the two-legged creatures would venture to this spot, the devil beast would be able to satisfy its need. The craving was building again, burning its brain and its gut. Soon it would have to find satisfaction.
Meanwhile, it found its way to the ancient trees surrounding the cabin and into the thick vegetation. In the embrace of overgrown fronds and leaves, it found a dark place to curl up in its own form and rest.
Tonight. Maybe tonight a target would appear and the devil beast would be calm again for a while.
* * * * *
Regan was sure when she and Dante walked back into the main area of the house, everyone would know exactly what they’d been doing, as if they had signs emblazoned across their foreheads. She wasn’t used to living with this many people and she certainly wasn’t used to having sex as often as she and Dante did. Three times in less than two days? She wondered if she glowed from the aftermath.
They filled mugs from the perpetually brewing coffeemaker and headed into the war room.
“There you are.” Logan Tanner was just sitting down at the conference table and waved them over. “We were just about to buzz you on the house phone. Better come sit down. Ric’s got stuff for us.”
Dante and Regan exchanged a look. “In just the last hour?” she asked.
“This is unexpected,” Ric called over his shoulder. “I want to discuss it with everyone at the same time.”
It didn’t take long before the seats were filled. Dakota and Clint had begged off but the two newest additions, Ben and Randi, slid into two empty seats, obviously eager to begin making a contribution. Ric finished what he was doing at his keyboard then rose and joined them at the table.
