by John Corwin
I smiled, running my fingers through his hair, feeling the dampness of sweat our bodies had generated. I had filled this man with desire. Me. How could I resist a man who said such poetic things? "Are you unable to tie your shoes without me, Tyler?"
He laughed, his body vibrating against mine. "Just barely." He stood, gloriously naked, a sheen of sweat glistening along the length of his body. It enhanced every hard corner and fluid curve of his muscular body.
"You are so hot," I said. My eyes went wide the moment I realized I'd said that aloud.
His sculpted lips curved into a pleased grin. "If only you could see yourself through my eyes. Especially in that red dress." He held out a hand to me, assisted me off the bed. "Shall we have dinner now?"
I had forgotten all about food after such a filling dessert. My stomach rumbled to indicate it, however, had not. "Yes."
I freshened up in the bathroom, using a towel to clean my still-flushed face as Tyler put on his clothes. He set out dinner—chicken breasts with a light sauce, and a mix of veggies—at a table near the huge glass window overlooking the park. Darkness had already claimed the sky. The city lights flickered like stars, the shadows of skyscrapers cutting into the canopy on the horizon.
"How's the chicken?" he asked as I took a bite.
The tender meat melted in my mouth. "Oh, it's delicious. Like an orgasm in my mouth."
He chuckled. "I can give you a real orgasm in your mouth if you'd like." His wink sent shivers through me.
"Oh, is that part of another dessert?"
"Perhaps." He looked out into the night and his smile flattened, his face suddenly pensive.
"You're not eating much," I said. "Is everything okay?"
He seemed not to hear me at first, and then looked back. "Hmm?"
I repeated myself.
"Everything is amazing." He frowned. "Too amazing."
My stomach tensed. "How so?"
He smiled. Shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Sometimes I overthink things."
He overthinks things? If only he knew how many thoughts he sent skittering through my little mind. "Like what?" I hoped he wasn't reconsidering whatever it was we had. And was what it we had, exactly? It wasn't quite a relationship.
"There are things you don't know about me," he said after a long pause. "Things I'm afraid to tell you." He turned and folded my hand into both of his. His skin felt so warm against mine, almost too warm to be normal. It reminded me a bit of Thomas.
"You're not a mass murderer are you?" I said, injecting a teasing tone to my voice, though my insides clenched at what his terrible secret might be.
"No." He gave me a wan smile. "Great. I'm dragging down the evening."
"Did you suffer some great childhood trauma?" I asked, curious to know what in the world was bothering him.
"I—yes, I suppose I did." He shook his head and dropped my hands, his gaze returning to the blanket of darkness outside. "I guess it's kind of fucked me up a little."
"Well, with a father like Cyrus Rock, I imagine you have your share of bad tales."
He gave me a sideways glance. "Oh. Yeah."
Curiosity burned in me, but I didn't want to pry. Okay, I really did want to pry, but I didn't want to bug the hell out of him with a million questions. I looked down at my plate and was surprised to find I'd demolished everything on it. Tyler had hardly touched his. Considering the way he usually ate, I knew something really had to be bothering him.
The cheer and warmth seemed to evaporate from the room, as something consumed his attention. Finally, he looked at me. "I like you Emily. I can't stop thinking about you. When I close my eyes, I see your face, those piercing blue eyes and shimmering hair billowing around you like an angel. And then you smile. You have the sexiest little dimples, did you know that?"
I caught myself smiling and blushing, showing my dimples, I was sure. "I wouldn't call them sexy, exactly."
He traced his thumb across my cheeks. "I find them irresistible." He leaned back in his chair. "You are irresistible."
"Then what's the problem? And don't tell me nothing, because something is eating you up inside."
He nodded. "I don't know if I'm ready."
"For what?"
"To say. But I can't expect more of you, not without you knowing." He turned his sad green eyes on me, and my heart wilted.
"As long as you're not hiding something criminal, I'll understand," I said, and took his hand. I kissed his knuckles. "I want you to be honest with me when you're ready."
"And you'll tell me what happened to you, Emily? What demons so haunt you?"
An ache caught in my chest. I nodded. "It's only fair."
He sighed. "We'll see about that." Some of his appetite seemed to return and he cleaned his plate while I sipped on a sweet white wine, my mind churning through a million possibilities.
Had his father sexually abused him? Or was he just troubled by a childhood dominated by a tyrannical father? I was dying to know every last thing about this man. To know what shaped him into what he was today. Tyler seemed so confident in his decisions. So friendly and outgoing, but with the commanding presence of a leader, someone who wasn't afraid to make a final decision and go with it. It made his uncertainty tonight all the more baffling.
"I'd like to have you for the weekend." Tyler's typical confident smile returned. "Unless you have plans already."
"I don't know." I took out my smartphone and viewed my empty calendar. "Oh dear, I'm booked for a month solid. I have bridge club, a tiddlywinks tournament, and the President is expecting me to address the nation."
He took the phone from my hands and looked at it. "Emily, has anyone ever told you how naughty it is to lie?" He typed something in on the phone, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Now you're booked." He handed the phone to me.
I looked and saw "Tyler Rock" listed as a recurring event on every day of my calendar. Under today's date was something else. I looked at it. "Spanked for lying?" I said with a giggle.
"Sentence to be carried out immediately." He lifted me from my chair in an easy motion and bent me across his lap. He held my arms by the wrists behind my back.
"Tyler Rock, don't you dare!" I struggled, but his grip was like iron. Hot desire pooled in my stomach. I stopped wriggling. "You've been wanting to spank me, haven't you?"
I felt his hot breath next to my ear. "Ever since I first saw you." His other hand pulled my dress up, exposing my bare bottom. I felt a flush heat my skin.
"Oh Emily, I see you're blushing. All the way down to your—"
"Tyler!" I squirmed, but he held me tight. His hand squeezed a buttock and I gasped at the thought of what he was about to do. His hand left my skin, and then smacked down hard, pressing against the pain. "Ow!"
"Was that too hard?"
I shivered. "No."
Smack!
"Oh fuck!" The pain shot through my skin.
"Do you promise to be good?" he said in a low voice, his teeth nibbling my ear.
"Absolutely not." I wondered what in God's name was wrong with me that this sort of pain actually turned me on.
His hand slapped my backside again. I squealed with pain.
"Okay, enough." The intensity was too much to bear. "Please, Tyler, let me up."
He stood, setting me on my feet in an instant, bracing me as I swayed from the blood rushing to my head. His hands pulled my dress back down.
"Was it too much?"
I threw my arms around his neck, one of my hands knotting in his hair and pulling it, my body sick with desire for him to quench the fire he'd started in me. He pulled me into the bedroom, flinging me on the bed and lying atop me. His kisses stretched from one end of my body to the other while his hands tore off my dress. The anticipation was torturous. I wanted him inside me this instant.
We finished together some time later. Tyler smiled at me and pecked my nose before dropping to my side. I felt warm and contented against him, and closed my eyes, drawing in his scent. I ho
ped this feeling would never end.
Chapter 26
George Walker called on me at lunch the next day with a simple text.
Can you meet me outside in five minutes?
I knew it was foolish to wonder how he'd gotten my number. Government people probably knew how many times per day I went to the loo. Since Tyler wasn't at the office today, I decided it wouldn't hurt to meet with George. I responded.
Yes.
I stepped outside and saw him on the sidewalk. For once, George looked rather grim. "It appears the problem is spreading."
"How?" I felt quite disconcerted at the thought of more super-soldier children wreaking havoc on society. It would likely lead to school massacres even worse than the ones haunting the nation already. Teenagers, by their very nature, were unstable enough. Unthinkable quantities of hormones coursing through their blood and a belief that they already knew everything there was to know was quite a dangerous combination to begin with. Adding enhanced abilities was an invitation to disaster.
George brushed his suit jacket as if dislodging a bit of lint. "The drug is being spread by student pushers in the schools. Kids are taking it and in many cases, unknowingly infecting themselves."
I felt sick to my stomach. "What would you like from me?"
"How much time can you take for lunch?"
The morning had been quite hectic, but the afternoon promised to be slower. "Perhaps two hours."
He checked the time on an unusual-looking cell phone with a half-peeled orange logo on the back. "That should be enough." His gaze turned back to me. "We'll investigate several high schools in the metro area. This time it will be much different. We can't cause a panic by rounding up the students. Instead, we'll pose as school officials and step into classrooms."
I didn't bother asking how we were to reach all these schools within two hours. "I see." I raised a querying eyebrow. "How do you intend for me to touch the students?"
"Your ability has a range, correct?"
I shrugged. "Sometimes it's far more sensitive than at other times. I can feel the presence from a few yards away, but I still have to touch the individual to narrow it down to them."
He nodded. "That should work." George opened the door to the back seat. "I believe we can make this work." George closed the door and climbed into the front seat. He turned to look at me as Sticks pulled into traffic. "We'll try walking the hallways at the first school. You tell us if you feel anything."
"Am I to blindfold myself again?" I asked.
He replied with an apologetic half-smile. "I'm afraid so."
"What a bother." I found the blindfold lying on the seat next to me. "Just tell me when."
Mr. Sticks pulled into a blind alley.
George turned to me. "Now, if you please."
I did so. Once again, I felt the peculiar sensation of rising before moving forward. I wondered if they had secret black helicopters that picked up the car and whisked us around on silent rotor blades. There was no telling with these people.
The first high school was in downtown Atlanta. We received plenty of concerned looks from people, but the front desk allowed us entrance once George produced IDs labeling us as Department of Education officials.
A concerned man in a worn blue suit met us inside the front security zone. "I'm Principal Jackson. I wasn't told we'd have visitors today."
"Nothing to alarm yourself about." George shook the man's hand. "I'm George Walker. We're simply here to survey for possible building improvements and renovations."
The principal's eyes widened. "Finally! They've cut so much from our budget over the past decade we can hardly afford to make routine repairs."
"We'll need complete access, and prefer not to have anyone tagging along." George offered him a reassuring smile. "We'll be done in thirty minutes."
Principal Jackson looked as though he had a lot more to say, but simply nodded. "Please get me if you have any questions."
"Of course." George headed to a junction ahead and went left into a long hallway lined with classroom doors. We strode all the way to the end, passing several adjoining hallways filled with lockers along the way. I felt absolutely nothing until we passed a female bathroom near the far end of the adjoining corridor. A faint chill emanated from within.
I stepped cautiously inside and saw two young females speaking with a group of three girls. Their eyes lit on me when I stepped inside and I instantly thought they looked guilty. Perhaps these are the dealers. I saw one of them tuck something into her purse, confirming my suspicions. Something in the eyes of the two supposed drug pushers looked much older than their teenaged appearance.
"We're just about to go to class," one of them said. "I'm sorry, but I was having really bad cramps."
"Yeah, cramps," her companion said. "I hate periods."
The other three students spun to face me, alarm in their faces as they became aware of my presence.
"Very well," I responded in a curt voice. "You shouldn't be here without hall passes."
One of the pushers grinned. "I'm sorry. We'll go now." Her voice sounded confident and not the least bit contrite.
Having seen the strength these sorts of people possessed, I opened the door and kept my distance. I looked at other students. "All of you get back to your classes. I'd like to speak with these two alone."
The other girls rushed out. I managed to touch each of them as they passed and confirmed none of them were infected.
One of the pushers sniffed the air and hissed. "Something's not right."
"They warned us," the other said.
Without warning and to my great astonishment, the first girl gripped the porcelain sink and ripped it off the wall. Water sprayed everywhere. A strong arm gripped me and jerked me back through the door an instant before the sink smashed into the doorframe, sending shards flying.
Mr. Sticks spun me so quickly I hardly had time to register the movement. I heard the sound of fragments impacting his back. He grunted, but didn't seem otherwise fazed. With a quick thrust, he sent me stumbling across the hall and turned. The two girls seemed to blur out of the bathroom. I shook my head and wondered if my vision had gone wonky.
George blocked a blow from the first girl. He ducked, swept the feet from beneath her. She hit the tiled floor with a loud grunt. Other Custodians aimed their wrist-mounted dart guns, but apparently couldn't get a clear shot. Mr. Sticks turned to the second girl. She aimed a flurry of punches at Sticks, arms moving so fast, the movements blurred together. Sticks blocked the blows with precise efficiency, his face showing little strain from the endeavor. He caught the girl's arm, twisted it to the side. His leg thrust out and kicked the girl in the midsection so hard, she slammed into the wall a few feet from me. Cracks ran up the distasteful green cinderblock.
I should have been absolutely shocked at the display of raw power, but my mind had apparently accepted this strange new reality with abnormally enhanced teens and my amazingly adept allies.
"Leave me alone, bitches!" the girl cried. She stumbled forward two steps, stiffened, and fell as darts found their mark.
George pinned the other girl face down on the floor. "Lance her," he said in a calm voice.
Another Custodian darted her in the neck and the perpetrator went limp.
I noticed a small glass vial with a thick red substance rolling across the floor. I picked it up and looked at it. It looked almost like blood. Sticks snatched it from my hand and gave me a disapproving look.
"How rude." I regarded him with narrowed eyes.
"We'll handle it from here," George said. He spoke quietly into his phone. Within minutes, another team of his people came in, scooped up the pushers, and departed with efficient ease while yet another group inspected the damaged wall and bathroom.
"We'll have it repaired in ten minutes," a woman in this new group said.
George looked around and noticed a flickering fluorescent bulb. "Repair that too, while you're at it."
"Shall I repaint this
awful green as well?" the woman asked. "I think a tasteful mauve would fit right in."
George chuckled. "Not this time." He turned to me. "Let's continue."
Unlike the other Custodians, I sensed something quite different about this woman. The hairs on my right arm tingled as though the woman were charged with static electricity. I wanted to touch her, but she moved back to her group. I looked at her. She had no equipment for fixing broken mortar or repairing plumbing for that matter. She held a thick but short wooden rod in one hand. I wanted to wait and see what she'd do, but Mr. Sticks prodded me forward. I gave him a dirty look before continuing down the hallway, risking furtive glances over my shoulder.
We took a right. My intuition detected something when we walked near a door leading outside. I stepped out as quietly as possible and found two teens, their backs to me, smoking near a dumpster about ten yards away.
"Totally, my man," one said. "Drink all we want, smoke all day every damned day and it never affects us."
"Hell, yeah. And we can totally bang any girl we want." The second teen twitched and spun. He tossed down the cigarette when he saw me.
Silver darts found their targets before I even had a chance to tell George. Apparently, they didn't want a repeat performance like the girls in the bathroom. Once again, a team of Custodians whizzed in and took the troubled youths away.
We walked the last hall, but I detected nothing unusual.
"It appears we reached this school before any true harm was done," George said with a satisfied note in his voice. "Let's move on to the next."
We went to several more schools, perhaps six in all, using the same cover story. One principal was unwilling to let us walk around unescorted. Mr. Sticks put a dart in the poor woman's neck and left her slumbering on a bench in the hallway. He obviously felt their mission superseded any outside interference. I made a mental note not to cross him.
Only one other school had infected students. George and team were able to apprehend them all quickly without incident. He dropped me off at work fifteen minutes early.
