Now, Rowan transferred all the love he had felt for Sasha into Perry Donovan. Into Perry’s mouth, to be exact, as the game warden suckled his penis lovingly.
He had sensed something was wrong on the drive back to the Triple Play. The uplifting mood of the drive into the desert was gone. Rowan was pissed off, to be sure, at not having brained or killed El Zeub. How hard could it be, really, to just shoot some whack-a-mole who made an even bigger target wearing a giant head? Well, maybe Rowan had been confused. After all, how often was he assaulted by a cartoon character? It could have been anyone under there, some child playing, a refugee from the Great FurFest at the lodge. Still, confusion was no excuse to not at least hold the guy at gunpoint.
To be sure, his brain had been addled by the monumental fucking, too. He hadn’t expected Sasha to be so forward on top of a sand dune, or he would have brought his own condoms. To be honest, Rowan didn’t know what he expected from Sasha. The refined and educated woman was accustomed to dating medical supply magnates and Olympic skiers, not Irish ruffians. He was probably just a one-off for her, a fling, a wild outburst of partying and screwing before she returned to her sedate life of dissecting eyeballs.
Perry’s approach to fuck him up the ass had only addled Rowan further. That was nearly as shocking as Sasha spreading her beautiful thighs for him. The clean-cut warden had been a hard sell to the world of triad sex. Hell, Rowan had needed to handcuff him in order to bestow a blow job on him when they’d first met. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but nature boy hadn’t exactly gone willingly down the dark twisted path of same-sex ecstasy. Rowan suspected Perry had probably been dreaming of fucking him up the ass for a while without being able to admit it to anyone, least of all himself. It was really the only option left for Perry, too, while Rowan was busily humping the good doctor. All in all, it was heaven sandwiched between the two people he cared the most about in the world.
Then. When they had finally arrived back at the lodge, and Rowan had tried to follow Sasha into her suite. Why would he think this was somehow objectionable? She had agreed she needed to be guarded, that it was nice to have someone with a weapon around—although lately, Rowan could see where that wouldn’t be a very impressive résumé addition—and he had spent the night in her bed the night before. But no, she had stopped him in the lobby. They stood under the enormous antler chandeliers that hung four stories above. A fire blazed in the giant stone fireplace, and guests and furry lifestylers stood around sipping wine. All Rowan wanted to do after his dismal failure in the desert was to do the same, take Sasha into his arms, and make love to her again—this time without letting a mad bomber go free.
But she pulled him aside in the lobby and addressed him formally. “Rowan.” She may as well have said “Captain O’Shea,” her tone was so stiff. “I don’t think you should accompany me back to my suite.”
Of course, Rowan frowned and asked, “What? Why not?”
She even folded her hands in front of her lap. She addressed him head-on, to her credit, much as she was probably accustomed to telling people their father had died of cerebral hemorrhage brought on by an axe through the skull. “I don’t believe it’s for the best for us to get any closer than we already are. I have a job in Charleston and you have a job in DC, Rowan. If I just let you stay in my suite we’ll only get closer and this…scares me.”
Rowan was even more confused now. “Why would it scare you?” He tried to chuckle. “I’m supposed to prevent people from becoming scared.”
Sasha didn’t seem to be in a humorous mood. “It scares me because I do feel close to you, and I don’t like that. We’re doing a job together—we shouldn’t be sleeping with each other.”
Rowan tried to laugh again, less convincingly this time. “I’m confused, Sasha. We talked about chickens in the yard, a dog, a family. Suddenly you’re doing a one-eighty and saying I shouldn’t even spend the night in your suite?”
“That’s what I’m saying. Look, you’ll catch this El Zeub sooner or later. Are you trying to tell me you’re not returning to DC once he’s apprehended?”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you.” Now Rowan wasn’t so sure, either. “Sasha, you’ve blown me away. I’ll never be the same person now that I’ve met you. Why would I want to bury you under a rug and forget about you, go back to DC and resume trailing politicians around? It started out that I wanted to find El Zeub, of course. But it’s turned into so much more, knowing you.” Rowan was uncomfortable talking about feelings and other such women’s subjects, but it had to be done sometime. Especially if the love of his life was threatening to break it off with him for a reason he failed to understand.
“That’s what I don’t like,” insisted Sasha. “The fact that it has turned into so much more. I think we should stop it right now before we become hurt even deeper. I’m not about to quit my job in Charleston for anyone, and you’re not about to do the same in DC.”
But he had discussed giving up his job at Hawkeye Corp. He hadn’t been envisioning the dog or chickens at a DC house, after all. The animals and wife could be anywhere. Best of all, he could even continue to fly around doing contract work for Hawkeye—it didn’t matter where he lived. He only lived in DC because that’s where their HQ was, but plenty of mercs who worked for PMCs lived elsewhere. They usually had to fly around for assignments, anyway.
But Rowan was so hurt by her talk, he didn’t feel like bringing that up again. If she couldn’t see it, she couldn’t see it. He only mildly said, “I can live anywhere, working for my company. But hey, if you aren’t willing to alter your lifestyle for me, who am I to pressure you? You’re right, we’re doing a job. I fucked up today by allowing that assmunching fucktard to get away.”
Sasha shook her head. “No you didn’t, Rowan. That’s not why I’m saying this. I’m saying this to protect my own heart. You’ve stolen it, and it’s time for me to steal it back. I don’t know what I was thinking, allowing myself to get carried away by you. Well.” She now attempted a chuckle, but it was hollow. “It’s actually pretty easy to see how a girl could be carried away by you. You’re devilishly handsome, powerful, tough. You bring out all the best in me.”
Rowan tried one more time. “Then what’s the problem?”
Sasha inhaled and exhaled deeply. “That is the problem. I don’t like being affected so deeply. I just got a divorce from an awful, violent, abusive jerk. Oh, not that I consider you in the same category. Not at all, Rowan, don’t get me wrong. I’m just saying that it’s time for me to heal, to concentrate on my job, to stay away from men. You’re not the type to settle down, anyway. You must thrive on the excitement of your job.”
Yeah. My job. Real exciting. Most of his time was spent playing Heroes of Order and Chaos on a tablet in between reading chapters of the latest spy novel. Days of tedium were interspersed with a few hours of action, that was all. And it was the sort of action Rowan had been thinking he could live without.
But he had to bend to Sasha’s wishes. He knew she was rebuffing him because he’d failed earlier that day. His ego was so damaged he only had a little fight left in him. “Who will protect you? What if El Zeub breaks into your suite?”
Sasha shrugged and looked at Rowan’s clavicle. “He won’t. There are cameras in the hallway and there’s even a camera in my suite.”
Rowan wished he would’ve noticed that before tying Sasha to the bedposts. “Cameras don’t stop rapists.”
“You said it yourself—bombers aren’t usually rapists, and you don’t know why he seems to be following me. You know, it’s probably not even me he’s following. It was you he jumped on out in the desert. You he seemed to have a particular hatred for. Could it be he knows you’re following him?”
Rowan flinched, suddenly becoming aware of the bruises to his shoulders. That oxytocin released during orgasm must have been responsible for his inability to feel it until now. “Oh, it’s entirely possible.” Nobody was invisible, and El Zeub had clearly seen him at
the Winterhawk seconds before the explosion. But El Zeub had come onto the Triple Play radar before Rowan had followed Sasha up here. Otherwise, he would tend to agree with her.
Rowan must bow to the lady’s wishes. She didn’t want him around, she didn’t want him around, that was all there was to it. He had to accept defeat graciously. He even gave a corny little bow. “Dr. McQueen. You’ve got my cell number if you see El Zeub around.”
He turned to leave the lobby, even though Sasha was saying, “Actually, I only have the number on that card you gave me, the answering service.”
Rowan pretended not to hear her. He was so befuddled he felt like his brain was bleeding. What had just happened? It barely had time to register in his psyche before Perry grabbed him by the arm. He had been eating cheese and crackers with that leopard who was giving him tips.
“Rowan. I’ve got Red here on the lookout for anyone who might be wearing half a Garfield costume.” His tone instantly changed. “What’s wrong?”
Of course Rowan shrugged his friend off and continued toward the lobby door. He would have continued charging ahead, dragging Perry like so many buffalo skulls in a Sioux dance, if it meant getting away from Sasha and her rejection. Perry scurried behind him to catch up, and they strode down the front walkway. As if I have somewhere to go.
“What’s wrong? I already know you well enough to know when something’s wrong. Something to do with The Dickhead? Look, come to my cabin, we can sort it out.”
Perry’s cabin. Rowan had completely forgotten about that. He slowed his pace only enough to show Perry he was listening. He had no idea in which direction Perry’s cabin lay, though, so he had to allow the ranger to walk alongside. He changed the subject. “What did that leopard tell you?”
“Well, a stranger made an appearance dressed as a manticore, but it turned out it was just someone trying to make a big splash with a fancy fursuit. Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Rowan said gruffly. He knew Perry would find out sooner or later, and it struck him for the first time. What if Perry were to put the moves on Sasha again? It wasn’t like they hadn’t fooled around yet. Perry had had his head buried between her thighs only last night, which now seemed like a hundred years ago. Would Sasha allow Perry to take liberties with her still? Just the vague idea of it enraged Rowan. “What’s a manticore?”
“From what I can gather it’s a lion with wings, but that’s not important. If you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong I’m not letting you into my cabin. We’re partners, Rowan, like it or not. If you withhold information from me it’s just going to wind up screwing up our scene.”
“All right. Fine,” Rowan said maliciously.
However, he hemmed and hawed until Perry had let him into the roomy, beautifully appointed log cabin with two-story-tall windows. Rowan went right over to a sideboard where he spied a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a double. He normally didn’t drink at all while on assignment, which was pretty much all of the time. But right now he just wanted to avoid Perry’s insistent questions about what was so damned “wrong” with him. Perry was his lover, too, after all. He may have lost the woman he had wanted to marry but he still had Perry.
Marry? What the fuck was I thinking? He had never wanted to marry any woman before. He had been in love a few times, of course. In the fast-paced world of political intrigue there were glamorous gold-diggers in it for the…well, the endorphin rush. That world was chock-full of femme fatales, one moment swooning because they needed protecting, and making off with one’s wallet the next moment.
Of course, eventually he had to tell Perry what had transpired with Sasha, why they weren’t tying her up and lighting her on fire anymore.
Rowan smacked his lips after the last sip of whiskey. “I’m going to have dinner in the restaurant. I might see someone—”
“Wait.” Perry sat on the couch next to Rowan and gripped his forearm. “First of all, El Zeub isn’t going to show himself with you around. You hanging around is pretty much a guarantee that he’s going to make himself scarce, maybe hide in the desert. And since he’s probably seen me by now, too, our best bet is people like Red Bullard being our eyes and ears.”
“So we just wait around here for someone to blow something up? I don’t think so. If I’m in a public space he’s more likely to ping on the divining rod. It works only within a hundred feet.”
“Maybe you should dress up as a Furry, then. Now can you tell me what Sasha said to piss you off so badly? I have a feeling that a pissed-off Rowan won’t be easy to handle.”
Rowan sighed heavily and bit the bullet. So much emotional honesty in one day was exhausting him. He stared straight at the empty fireplace. “She said she can no longer continue to have sex with me because soon she’s going back to Charleston and I’m going back to DC.”
Perry was silent for an appropriate amount of time. “I know you love her, and it sure seems like she loves you. Can’t you figure out a way to be together? Or maybe you don’t want that.”
Rowan responded heatedly. “I do want that, and I thought we’d discussed that. Maybe I wasn’t direct enough about it. Maybe I just assumed Sasha knew that mercs can live anywhere because her sister is marrying Adrian Kinsey on Saturday. Adrian lived in Connecticut but was based in DC, and now he lives here.”
Perry grinned. “At Bird in Hand, Utah. Well, you know what happens when you assume, buddy. You make an ass—”
Rowan whipped a finger in Perry’s face. “Don’t fucking say it.”
Perry put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m just saying that if you want her badly enough there are always options.”
Backing off, Rowan shook his head grimly. “She didn’t leave too many options open. She basically just said we’re only working together until we catch El Zeub. Which I should have done tonight when I fucking had him in my sights.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. If it’s any consolation, I reached for my taser instead of my pistol, too. It’s kind of weird being confronted by a full-sized, rabid cartoon character. It’s not what they train you to expect in Defensive Tactics 101. Is there anything stopping you from relocating to Charleston?”
An icy knot of despair was forming in the pit of Rowan’s stomach. “Nothing at all.” A sudden gusher of honesty erupted from him, and he slapped the couch arm. “I’m in love with that woman, Perry!”
“Have you told her?”
Rowan ignored him. “I’ve known that since laying eyes on her at Winterhawk! She’s captivated my—my—”
“Heart?” Perry suggested.
“Heart and won’t let go! Why’d she let me make love to her if she was going to dump me?”
“She probably didn’t know yet,” Perry said, completely unhelpfully. “She sounds confused, maybe afraid of her strong feelings for you. I’ve seen nothing but love in her eyes when she looks at you. I wish she looked at me that way, but I figured at least this way I wouldn’t have to compete with you to win her.”
“Yeah, she decided to dump me after I let that asshat get away wearing a fucking Garfield costume!”
Perry shrugged. “You found the head, at least.”
Rowan glared at his friend. “Listen, nature boy. It hasn’t occurred to you yet that Sasha probably won’t let you touch her either, for exactly the same reason.” Actually, it was just occurring to Rowan that she might continue to allow things to go on with Perry, if only because she wasn’t as afraid of being hurt by him. Who could fear the easygoing nature boy? He was going to Tase a cartoon cat, for Christ’s sake.
“I won’t try.” Perry vowed. He even raised his hand as though taking a presidential oath. “It just wouldn’t be the same without you. And I don’t want to piss you off, either.” He laughed. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. Honestly.”
Then in a flash, Perry hooked his hands around Rowan’s elbows and brought Rowan’s hands around his back.
Rowan was so shocked the mild-mannered conservation
officer would pull such a trick. He wasn’t in the mood to protest when Perry strengthened the lock by pinioning Rowan’s upper arm in his armpit. Before Rowan could say a word, Perry had slapped his cuffs around Rowan’s wrists. Rowan struggled feebly, but he liked where this was going. It was thoughtful of Perry to want to take his mind off his troubles. And Rowan had probably never had his cock sucked by a virgin before.
“There,” said Perry. He fondled the growing bulge in Rowan’s jeans. Rowan had been around the block enough times to know it inflamed other men to at least give a nominal attempt to struggle. It would only thrust his penis into Perry’s hand if he bucked like a lassoed steed, so that’s what he did. Perry squeezed the entire length of his prick in his palm and laid a big sucking kiss to the side of Rowan’s throat. His tongue tickled erotically, further stiffening Rowan’s imprisoned cock. “I know what you need. You know I want to suck your dick.”
Rowan gyrated his hips, pretending to shy away from Perry’s warm body. “You don’t even know what you’re doing. You think you can force me to come in your mouth?”
He could feel Perry smile against his throat. “Yes. I know I can. I’ve had enough women do it to me. I think I can fake it.”
In an instant Perry was on his knees between Rowan’s thighs. He proved his dexterity again by whipping Rowan’s belt undone in a flash, and before Rowan could even pretend to protest he’d gobbled Rowan’s cock down his throat.
It did succeed in cheering up Rowan. What Perry lacked in finesse he made up for with enthusiasm, hoovering Rowan’s meat like he was born to it. A surge of love rushed through Rowan’s chest, and he knew he loved Perry just as he loved Sasha. The same, but different, as they said. Rowan became fearful all over again because now he would lose Perry as well as Sasha. He was tired of the globetrotting life, leaving people behind every few weeks. As Perry put his tongue into lapping at the underside of Rowan’s prick, he was again reminded of Fernando, the fellow merc in Cuba.
The Grass Is Greener [McQueen Was My Valley 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 14
