When I got back, Davie was making great progress. The buoy had several large chunks blown out of its top and sides.
“Nice job!” I told her.
“She’s a natural,” Ami said. “A few weeks of practice and she could qualify at competitions.”
Davie chuckled. “Ami’s being kind,” she said. “I miss more than I hit. This is easier than I thought it’d be, though. The last time I went shooting, I was killing time with a boyfriend.”
“Want me to go check on the pies?” I offered.
“No, I’ll do it,” Davie said. “My wrists are starting to hurt.”
Ami and I fell in behind her as Davie set off for the house. Ami and I watched Davie’s long legs as she climbed the garden stairs.
“Got room for a third?” Ami asked through the link.
“If she offers, sure,” I replied. “But we haven’t discussed what type of relationship we’re in. I don’t know if she does open or multiples. Or other women.
“Or if we even have a relationship,” I added as an afterthought.
“Poor Josh,” Ami grinned at me. “You’re smitten.”
She ran to catch up with Davie, and their butts winked at me all the way to the house.
TWELVE
We were dozing on the daybed. Full of wine and excellent pie, Davie and I had closed the mosquito netting around us and watched the stars come out through the gauze. She had been talking about her childhood and how when she was a kid she thought there was literally a big dipper in outer space and she used to get so mad when her parents pointed it out to her but she still couldn’t see a giant soup ladle hanging in mid-air… and then she fell asleep mid-sentence. A full day of kidnapping and horseback riding can really take it out of you. I turned off my implant and pulled a light blanket over us. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I do remember feeling happier than I had been in ages.
I awoke to screaming.
I grabbed Davie and pulled her with me as I lunged for cover on the other side of the daybed. It sounds like an action hero thing to do, but in the movies, the hero never has to deal with mosquito netting. The netting tangled around us and I pulled the entire daybed canopy down with us as we fell.
Davie landed beneath me, so she resorted to beating on my back with her fists. “Josh!” she sputtered. “Josh! It’s an owl!”
It took a moment for the words to reach my brain, and another few seconds to process them. “Owl?”
“Yes! A bird? Comes out at night and hoots? You know, an owl!”
Overhead, a small shadowy form launched itself off of the roof and glided away. We tracked the owl until it vanished into the woods. I pushed the netting and the canopy beams off of us and stood up. Davie glared at me, rubbing the back of her head where she had hit it on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought someone was screaming.”
“City boy,” she growled, and held out her left hand. “There’s a reason they’re called screech owls.”
“I’ve been out here in the country a dozen times and this is the first I’ve heard an owl.” I took her hand and helped her stand. “How’s your head?”
“I’m fine, but that was not a fun way to wake up.”
We went inside and I locked the balcony doors behind us. Owls. Who knew?
Davie stepped into the bathroom and I flipped on the lights to go through my travel bag. I shrugged out of my shirt and jeans. I had packed a nightshirt, just in case, but I didn’t get a chance to put it on before Davie opened the bathroom door.
“Josh, did you bring toothpaste—Oh my God!”
“Hm?” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about until she was running her fingers over my back. Apparently she hadn’t been paying attention to my body during the fight or while we were in the shower, and the lights had been off the rest of the night. The scratch marks covering me stood out like red zebra stripes.
“Why didn’t you tell me to stop! I didn’t…”
She trailed off when she realized most of the marks were several days old.
“I had a good weekend,” I explained.
Davie walked off. I heard her rummaging through her bags and thought she was packing up to go sleep in another room.
“Davie…” I sighed and turned to face her, expecting her to be angry or hurt.
Instead, she was standing behind me with a length of dark purple rope. Smiling.
“I had a nice talk with your friend Rachel,” Davie said. She looped the rope around her neck and began to unbutton her blouse. The lacy edges of her bra peeked through the lengthening neckline of her shirt. “I asked her how I could make a lasting impression on a man who has a new lover every day of the week.”
“Did she give you the ‘Just be yourself’ speech?”
Davie nodded. “She did. But then I told her about this little toy I found in India, and she said that would definitely be better.”
“Oh?” I watched as Davie slipped off her shirt, then took the ends of the rope in her hands. She walked towards me, slowly, pulling on one end of the rope so it came loose and whipped free like a snake. “Tell me about this toy.”
“Did you know that velvet comes from the Middle East?”
As Davie came closer, I could see the rope had a shimmer to its edges, the light catching on the patterns of a twisted vine motif embossed in the fabric. It was more royal blue than purple, a cord of cloth so soft and fine it ran through her fingers like a silk scarf. It looked like something a queen would own.
“I did not.”
“It made its way over to Tibet a long time ago,” she said, unbuttoning her jeans. She pushed them over her hips and let them slide down her legs as she spoke. “The Tibetan people do wonderful things with velvet. They call it ring velvet, because it’s so thin you can thread a yard of it through a wedding ring.
“Then,” Davie said, stepping out of the puddle of her jeans, “this rope traveled from Tibet to Bhutan, and from there to India. And did you know that sex toys are illegal in India?”
She was naked except for her underwear. I reached out and cupped her breasts through her bra. “No,” I said, running my thumbs across the white lace barely covering her nipples. They hardened at my touch. “I did not.”
“But they still have sex.”
“I assumed,” I said, following the curve of her body to the latch at the back of the bra. “Most folks do.”
“So they have to get inventive with their toys,” Davie wrapped the velvet rope around her right hand as I undid the latch. “A friend took me shopping the last time I was in New Delhi. You have to know where to look and what to ask for, but if you do, they’ll sell you one of these.”
“And what is it, exactly?” I asked as I bent to kiss her breasts.
“Mmm,” she sighed, running her hands through my hair. “It’s for men…”
“Good. Not enough sex toys for men out there.”
“I will need your cock.”
“I’m counting on that,” I said. “But just so you know? I’m not into pain. Rough is good. Hard is better. But pain doesn’t do it for me.”
Davie pushed me up against the heavy oak dresser and used the hand wrapped in velvet to grip me through my boxers. “This,” she said, pulling on me, “will be sweet. This will be gentle.”
“This,” she whispered as she slipped her hand into my shorts and took hold of my erection, “will be so tender you’ll be begging me to stop.”
I rolled my eyes at the pun, then gasped as her hand with its velvet rope began to move me. The velvet was soft and cool, her hand between the folds of fabric was warm, almost burning. When she pressed against me, the rope flattened into a sheet of cloth and clung lightly to our skin, binding us together.
“Oh, hello,” I sighed. The velvet was like the finest sandpaper, lightly gripping without pain or pressure. Davie placed her thumb against the back of the head and rubbed in a light circle. My legs gave out and I slid down the side of the dresser. Davie followed me down, her hand never
leaving me.
I couldn’t move. Davie straddled me, stroking in long, slow pulls. Her breasts were inches from my face and I couldn’t have touched them if I wanted to. It felt like sex and a handjob mixed with something else, something completely new, and it left almost every part of me limp.
I lost track of time. Davie eased up after a long while. Each stroke was a little more shallow, each circle with her thumb a little more gentle, until I could barely feel her touch at all.
“How was that?” she asked as her hand finally came out of my shorts.
“Buh,” I think I said.
“Excellent,” she said, and kissed me. I was still so stunned that it took me a few seconds to remember to respond. When I was finally able to move again, I scooped her up and carried her to the bed.
“Why aren’t you selling these things?” I growled as I pushed her down on the sheets. “You would be the richest woman on the planet!”
She was laughing. “That’s my retirement plan,” she said as she began unwrapping the velvet from her hand. “Get a condom. I want to show you something else.”
I moved towards her and pinned her down beneath me. “What?” I asked. I barely recognized my own voice. My shorts and her panties were still between us, so I ground down on top of her. She gave a little cry from the weight of me. “What could you possibly do to top that?”
“Hm…” Davie murmured as she drew her fingernails up and over my back, then down my chest. “I’d rather show than tell.”
I stared into her big brown eyes for a moment, then pushed myself off of the bed to dig through my bag. When I returned to the bed, Davie was naked, the length of velvet draped across her legs. She had taken a loop of the fabric and was stroking it against her clit.
“If that’s what you’re going to show me,” I said, “I’m all for it.”
“Come here,” she said. I stepped towards her, and she stopped me before I could sit. She turned the velvet over, then took my cock with its condom and started to wrap the velvet around my balls. She was very gentle, but I was still sore from the horse ride and the pressure made me wince.
“Too tight?”
I nodded, and she put more slack into the wrapping. She circled them once, twice, three times, then ran the velvet up the shaft, stopping just beneath the head before she repeated the pattern on its way down. She finished with a fourth circle around the balls, and ended it with a tricky little knot dangling to the side.
“There,” she said, leaning back on the pillows. “Very pretty.”
I inspected her work. The velvet was snug but not binding; there was plenty of stretch in the fabric. I ran a hand down my shaft and squeezed, and the condom and the velvet moved together in one slick motion with my skin. My fingers also felt what my cock did not; the outside of the velvet had a fine line of stitches down its center, forming a bumpy ridge which traveled over and around itself. The velvet formed its own padding; I wouldn’t have known the ridge was there if I hadn’t felt it with my fingers.
“You dirty girl,” I said. “You ribbed me for your pleasure.”
Davie smiled. “You were so dear about the horse,” she said. “This way, you can go as slow as you need to, and I still get what I want.”
I came towards her across the bed. “Which is?”
“How soon they forget.” She shook her head sadly. “Rough. Very rough.”
“I love a woman who can find a good compromise,” I said, sliding my hands between her thighs. “But keep in mind I can always do rough.”
Davie hissed as I pushed three fingers inside her. I rotated my hand while opening my fingers, spreading her apart from within.
“God,” she gasped. “Those are… Those feel… Those feel long.”
“Really?” I asked. “How about now?” I pushed deeper, and Davie arched her back and moaned. I used my free hand to press down on her stomach between her hips and increase the pressure, and rubbed my thumb against her clit in the same slow circles she had used on me. I kept driving into her until her moans started to catch and come closer together, then I said: “I’m pulling out.”
“No,” Davie clenched her thighs around my hand. “Don’t you dare.”
“Yes,” I leaned forward to kiss her, and she sighed against my lips as I removed my hand. I was still kissing her as I placed the head of my cock against her, and we both forgot to breathe as I slipped myself inside.
“Ah!” Davie groaned.
“Tell me what you feel,” I whispered, sliding one arm beneath her hips to pull her against me. “Tell me what it’s like for you.”
“So thick,” she said. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open as we rose and fell together. Her nails dug into my ass with each thrust. “It’s like… I can feel it pulling at me when you relax, and when you come back in… Ah!” Davie cried out as I gave her an extra-hard thrust. “You’re ripping me open!
“Faster,” she begged.
“No,” I told her. I kept it slow and deep, Davie shifting wildly beneath me. She kept demanding I go faster, and every time she did, I slowed my pace even more.
“I’ve got to come!” she cried.
“Shouldn’t have wrapped me, then,” I said, pulling out until only my head was left inside, then I pushed myself deep. Her hips came up, hard, and she gave a small scream. “You said I could go slow, so you get it slow. I can go all night like this.”
I kept thrusting, putting her at the edge of her orgasm and holding her there, never quite taking her all the way to release. She pounded her hands against me in frustration.
“Josh, please!”
“No,” I said.
“Fine!” Davie pushed me out of her, then reached down and grabbed the knot. She pulled, and the velvet came undone. A few quick twists with her hands, and the cloth was crumpled on the sheets beside us.
Heat flooded back into me. The old joke is that sex with a condom is like sex in a raincoat; I’ve been wrapped before, and I know too well that sex with a condom and a wrapping is like sex in a spacesuit. When the wrappings come off, the difference is like night and day, and you can’t help but turn yourself loose.
I grabbed Davie by her shoulders and drove into her. She howled and laughed as I finally gave her what she needed, and her first orgasm hit almost instantly. She was still shaking from it as my own built within me, and she shouted as we both came.
Everything went black.
THIRTEEN
“Shit,” I said. I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Shit,” I said again. “Davie, get up. Something’s happening.”
“Hm?” Davie coughed. “I can’t see.”
“The power’s out,” I said, shaking her by her shoulders. “Come on, get up.”
“My legs don’t work,” she laughed giddily. “Josh, my legs don’t work!”
“Lovely,” I muttered. I slung her up on my shoulders in a fireman’s carry and waddled towards the bathroom in the traditional Dance of the Used Condom. The moon was up and there was just enough light to keep me from banging Davie against the door frame. I set her down in the dry bath tub. “Stay here, okay? I need to check if anything’s happening.”
She was good and truly sex-drunk. “Sure,” she giggled and rolled on to her front, kicking her legs up behind her against the tub wall. “This is so cold,” she said. “S’nice.”
I busied myself with a tissue and the trashcan as I activated my implant. Ami’s voice cut through the chatter of OACET Agents stationed around the house.
“Josh! Get Davie somewhere central and keep her away from the windows!”
“Davie, stay on the ground!” I shouted, lunging for my jeans. It took a couple of tries before I managed to stop putting my foot through the hole the horse had bitten out of the knee. “What’s happened?” I asked Ami.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the lights went back on. “Good,” Ami said. “The generator is up. I sent Phil out-of-body. He says it looks like someone took out the lines about five miles down the road.”
“Were t
hey cut, or did a drunk drive into a telephone pole?”
“Cut, but that doesn’t matter now. There’s a car driving towards the house.”
“What?!? How’d you let them get this close?”
Ami could tell I was furious. “Because we thought it would be better to talk to the driver than shoot up some poor schmuck who got lost on an evening drive in the country.”
“Please, Ami, you are not that naive. No one accidentally stumbles into a safehouse.”
She chuckled across the link. “I’ve got a clean line of sight on the driver in my rifle scope,” she told me. “Davie is great, but she’s not worth blowing up a car and Pat’s lake house. These folks want to talk. What’s the harm?”
Ami had a point. Plus combat training and a squad of twenty heavily-armed security personnel if she needed backup. “I’m taking Davie to the wine cellar,” I told Ami. “Give us the all-clear when we can come up.”
“Will do.”
Davie was standing in the bathroom door, wrestling with her shirt. “Is everything okay?” she asked. She was stone-cold sober and a little bit scared.
“Yes,” I said. “Ami wanted us to know there’s a possible security risk outside. We’re going down to the basement until it’s resolved.”
“Security risk? What does that mean?”
Her head popped out of her shirt and I gave her a fast kiss. “There’s a car in the driveway,” I said. “Ami doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about.” I decided not to mention how those things that did worry Ami were the stuff of screaming nightmares to the rest of us.
We took the back stairs down to the cellar. The lights were off in the house, but every door we passed was open and the hallway was flooded with light coming in from the outside. Agents were stationed at each window, rifles in hand and submachine guns lying within easy reach.
“Josh…”
“We’re just taking precautions,” I assured her, but she took my hand and stayed close to me the rest of the way downstairs.
We made our way to the wine cellar without incident. The chatter through the link was getting fierce; the car was a late-model Mercedes, and whoever was driving did not seem the slightest bit flustered by the small army flanking them alongside the road.
Russians Came Knocking Page 7
