Conquered

by Angel Payne

  Another gentle tug of her lips. “Well, it’s not a foreign planet to me, if that’s what you mean.” She turned her gaze out across the vast plain. “I live in the city now but get out to the more open parts of the valley whenever I can. The vastness of the desert…it’s daunting yet comforting. When you feel small, you’re able to recognize your place in the bigger picture of things, you know?”

  The woman could have dropped to her knees and offered to service him then and there and not gotten him more enervated. He felt like bellowin’ out his next words, though they ended up fallin’ out with the profound awe he actually felt. “That’s the way I feel when hikin’ through Glencoe.” He chuckled at himself before amending, “And up in the Shetlands. And atop the Cairngorms.”

  “Yes, yes, and yes. I want to visit them all.”

  “You do?” He crunched a perplexed scowl. “You…know all those places?”

  Her tiny smirk was also better than an offer of a blowjob. “In case you don’t know already, I’m kind of a fan of Scottish hunks—and their homeland.”

  “As well as the beauty of your own.” He guided the subject back to the here and now because it was too damn easy to think of her in sexy hikin’ togs, leadin’ him up through the Three Sisters with a follow-me-and-then-fuck-me look on her gorgeous face. And all too easily, he could imagine doin’ exactly that…

  “Indeed, the beauty of my own,” she echoed with a pretty smile. “Thanks to summers at my Aunt Fran and Uncle Chris’s ranch out up Kingston and the cute boy who led the hiking club in high school.”

  “Aha,” Sam quipped, scooping up her hand once more. This time, there was distinct purpose to the move. He started leadin’ the way toward what looked like a sizable storage shed, about forty yards away. “Now I know who I’m up against.”

  “Well…he was a sexy ginger,” she returned, easily keepin’ up with his long strides. “And, from what I could tell, packing some nice heat under his hiking gear.”

  He halted long enough to ensure she registered his narrowed gaze—but ignored her sweet giggle while tryin’ to wrap his follow-up query in a nonchalant tone. “But you…never found out? About his…um…heat, I mean.”

  “You mean did I tap that shit with Heath the Hot Hiking Man?” She deliberately nudged him, ruthless in her razzin’ about his poorly veiled dig for details. “Well, that would be a huge negative, Captain,” she supplied conversationally. “Heath carried a torch for one woman only. Her name was Mattie Lesange.”

  He scuffed to a new stop. Jen succumbed to a brighter giggle.

  “Well, now this is gettin’ juicy.”

  She shrugged. “Well, I wish I had more juice to share than that. I only know that right before senior prom, she broke his heart.”

  “Hmmmph,” Sam returned, starting the trek toward the structure once more. They were close enough now to see the aluminum siding of the big shed, reflecting different textures of gray and silver in the moonlight. “Served that roaster right, then. He should have recognized the jewel right in front of him.”

  “Well, we were in high school.” She squeezed his hand. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been that ‘roaster’ before, Captain Mackenna.”

  He didn’t squeeze her back. Instead, he worked their hands differently so he could lock her fingers between his—linkin’ her so solidly in his grasp, she wouldn’t doubt a damn syllable of the confession he gave her now. “Never had a jewel like you in front of me, mouse.”

  She said nothing else.

  But he felt her take the words in as if he stood still and watched it happen.

  And he reveled in the flow of happiness that emanated from every pore of her, until they were standing directly in front of the large steel structure.

  Only then did Sam turn and look back down at her.

  She wasn’t waiting with a responding stare for him. Instead, her scrutiny was directed up at the building. He didn’t begrudge a twinge of the uneasiness in her eyes. All on its own, the building gave off an aura of visceral creepiness.

  “So…” She drew the vowel out, lilting it up and then down, clearly attempting an infusion of humor to the strangely heavy air. “Should I prepare for the jump scare now or when we get inside? And are we doing Jason Voorhees or Freddie Krueger? Probably Freddie, yeah? Doesn’t Jason need a lake?”

  Though Sam chuckled his way into it, he cut her short with a hard smack on her lips. He was pure tempted to keep going from there, if only to show her his gratitude for flyin’ in and reopenin’ such a shuttered part of his soul, but he was eager to get her inside—where the second part of his surprises for the night lay in wait.

  Thankfully, she followed him inside the shed with no further hypothesizin’ about men with knives in hockey masks. The only thing she did comment on were the pair of pretty benches out in front, freshly painted in a Mykonos blue and sportin’ little holes in their bases as insertion points for optional sunshades. Though he’d only been in Vegas for a couple of weeks, Sam already knew the coverings were essentials if anyone was goin’ to be out here between June and September.

  The door was secured by a padlock, which Sam released with a key from a ring in his pocket. Once inside, he reached for light switches and found them right where Frank had told him they’d be.

  As the illumination kicked in, Jen took her first step across the threshold.

  Then halted.

  Then gasped.

  “Whoa.”

  Sam cocked his head. “Okay.” And emulated her drawl on the vowel, though definitely not with the same flair she possessed for off-the-cuff mirth. “Does that mean…you like it?”

  “Does the Starkiller dwarf the Death Star?”

  And had she really just said that? And was this him, still holdin’ back from plungin’ a hand into his own chest and givin’ her the whole of his hopelessly smitten heart?

  Instead, he took delight in watchin’ her peer around the whole place. It was damn near a designer showroom, with no sign of the aluminum walls from outside. The interior space was walled in polished wood, reflecting warm hues beneath the bright track lighting. A stacked-stone fireplace was surrounded by big leather couches draped in thick throw blankets, all but begging for someone to curl up in them with a good novel and a glass of wine. The open-plan kitchen—separated from the main room by a wide bar framed by wrought-iron stools—was small but outfitted with up-to-the-minute appliances. The same industrial motif defined a spiral staircase to their left, leading to a loft bedroom.

  “Whoa,” she repeated after well over a minute of gawking.

  Sam nodded. “Same thing I said when Frank showed me snaps of the place.” His counterpart from the USAF squad was a decent but enigmatic guy. Despite his Thor-hot looks, he’d never kept a girlfriend longer than three months.

  “Is this place his?” She threw a sardonic look over her shoulder. “And if he’s coming all the way out here to do the deed, how is he holding on to any woman?”

  “It’s not entirely his.” Sam sidestepped any more discussion about Frank and his shag count. “It began as a way station for miners but sat empty until the nineteen forties, when Nellis came into its own as a base. An officer bought the property and refurbished it as a place for him and his mates to unwind, away from the constant noise of the base.”

  Jen slid a teasing smile as he tugged her across the room. “Noisy? Why, we’re just a bunch of sweet little…mice.”

  Though he tossed back a wink, he kept the rest of his face placid. He liked the tiny skitter of arousal that caused across her features, though. “When the man passed on, he willed all of it to his squadron. It’s remained that way through the years, with everyone pitchin’ in for upkeep and renovations.”

  “The booty-call commune, eh?”

  Though she emphasized with a tinklin’ laugh, Sam again didn’t match her mien. Instead, with focused somberness, he stopped and turned back toward her. “I’ve never been here, mouse.”

  Jenny brushed a gentle hand down his arm. �
�Not even to get away with your secret thoughts?”

  “My secret thoughts and I haven’t been on speakin’ terms for a while.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply. While flashin’ her a refreshed smile, he relaced their fingers. “Want to see the upstairs?”

  Jen resisted. “Sam—”

  “Drop it.” He locked his visual deflectors firmly back into place. Even if the woman dug in and insisted on a “talk,” it would get her nowhere. But luckily, she clearly wanted to see the rest of this place. So did he. Everythin’ was stunning. Several generations of men had put their unique touches into the place. Sam was humbled to be here.

  Humbled…and aroused.

  As. Fuck.

  The loft contained another plush sofa and a huge, gorgeous bed. A chocolate-colored comforter was spread over the bed, with equally luxurious pillows outfitted in soft white shams. On the other side of the room, a spacious bathroom possessed a huge Roman tub.

  Sam deliberately lingered.

  But Jen didn’t.

  “Wow,” she blurted, already turning back toward the stairs with a forced smile plastered on her lips. “It’s very…errrmmm…nice.”

  “Nice.” Sam echoed it on a chuckle he kept cryptic. “Well, Frank tells me that’s only the start.”

  “What do you—”

  Sam stopped her short by flipping the switch in the wall next to him, also exactly where Frank said it would be. As soon as he hit the lever, the wall trembled. And then the wall next to it, along with the floor. A high-pitched whir consumed the air, making the whole chamber feel transformed into a freight elevator. He was happy to know the impression wasn’t solely his, as soon as Jenny let out a yelp and practically leapt into his arms. She clung to him even harder as the roof started moving.

  No. Sliding.

  Holy hell. He expressed as much in an amazed gasp before murmuring in soft amazement, “This is pure barry.”

  The “light switch” he’d flipped was actually an activation button that ordered the roof to retract, revealing a skylight the size of the entire bed, exposing the billion stars in the sky overhead. A smaller door retracted directly over the bathtub.

  Lights? Who the hell needed lights?

  The answer to that was as easy as rememberin’ the rest of Frank’s instructions and punching the second button in the wall—which doused all the track lighting over the main room.

  At once, Jenny let her purse plummet to the floor. Her jaw dropped the same direction. “Oh my…wow.”

  In the sudden darkness, the stars seemed to zoom closer. And though Sam had flown so close to those miniature suns, through night skies a lot like this one, it had to be one of the most dazzlin’ sights of his life.

  Entirely because of the beauty by his side.

  With her head jerked back, her gaze full of wide wonderment, and her mouth parted in a delighted smile, Sam swore he could have goggled at her for as long as she wanted to gawk at the sky. But though his soul swore the oath, his cock was already fashin’ hard about it. Hard. Bloody tadger felt like every damn star in that firmament had fallen through the glass roof, embedded itself beneath his flesh, and was now twinkle-twinklin’ the shit out of his achin’ flesh.

  That was before Jen made it all worse—and better—in one perfect swoop.

  With a sigh of mesmerizin’ delight, the woman slowly turned away from him. Not on purpose. She was just so dazzled by the spectral light show, she forgot where she was even standin’—

  Until she wasn’t standin’ anymore.

  The bed was right there, her perfect excuse to simply flop back and better enjoy the spectral panorama through the window. The second she was down, she released another huge gasp and reached a hand up toward the sky. “Holy crap. It looks like it could all just ripple at my touch.”

  Sam allowed himself a low, satisfied rumble. He walked to the edge of the bed but didn’t join her on it. Right now, with the meteor shower in his pants, just the idea of it was epic daft. He forced his mind toward the opposite end of the mental spectrum. Dirty gear grease. Post office lines. Frank’s belching version of “Uptown Funk.”

  No use. The star shower still raced up and down his cock. Did she know? Did she see how hard he battled to stay chivalrous, when thoughts of attackin’ her here and now were like a thousand exploding suns in his senses? That all he could think about was fitting every inch of himself against her delectable softness before makin’ love to her for hours beneath that canopy of endless stars? That he wanted to watch the soft glow of them reflect in the emerald glory of her eyes until the mists of arousal clouded them over?

  Before she started screamin’ for him.

  And beggin’ to him.

  Pleadin’ for him to finish her off…

  And he would. So gladly. Kissin’ her everywhere outside as he fucked her everywhere inside…

  It was really time to step away from the bloody bed.

  Except the woman herself had him doubling back on his intention again. This time, with hardly any movement at all. She merely pushed up to her elbows, hardly aware of what she’d done to push her gorgeous breasts so tight inside her silky top. A blouse with delicate pearl buttons that would probably slip free of their nooses with one easy twist of his fingers…

  Think about Frank’s belchin’. Or mission debriefs that last forever. Or reality TV.

  “This. Is. Outrageous.” Her declaration, along with her impish grin, detailed exactly how she intended the word—and effectively banished every belchin’ fortification from his mind. As warmth suffused his chest and heat kept torturin’ his toorie, his legs had suddenly turned to blocks of lead. He couldn’t leave the side of the mattress if the fuckin’ place caught afire.

  So he did what any self-respectin’ Highlander would do.

  Butted a hip against the thing and then folded his arms like a cocky genie. “I had a bit of a ken you’d like it.”

  “Bullshit,” Jen volleyed. “You had a little ‘ken’ I’d love it.”

  As she tacked on a spurtin’ little laugh, he opened his mouth to whip back somethin’ just as lippy, but the universe had other plans. The universe—or heaven itself. Or maybe hell. He had no fuckin’ clue, nor the inclination to dissect the whole matter, since he was still dealin’ with the bollocks blast of sheer, insane emotion that hit him before the woman could even finish with her adorable giggle. As if fate itself had retracted the roof of his goddamned heart, Sam couldn’t escape the resplendence and fullness of what he felt for this woman…

  What he’d always feel for her.

  Dear, bloody fuck.

  He wasn’t just in love with her.

  He was utterly, permanently smitten.

  Bound to her.

  Blinded by her.

  As metaphors went, nothing could have been more perfect, since the backs of his eyes cooperated with a pure fine burn. It worsened as he gazed down at her, takin’ in the dark-green sheen in her irises that betrayed her own soppy battle.

  They were both helpless and motionless, gaping and gulping and fighting this lunatic pull of their minds and hearts and souls, silent yet potent as a star about to go supernova. Their silent but catastrophic gift to the cosmos. Nothing would ever be the same again. They’d never be the same again.

  “Shit.” Like the amazin’ warrior she was, Jen shattered their silence first. All she could do was rasp, but every intonation tore into his heart like a scalpel soaked in tears. “Shit. Sam.”

  The hitch in her voice caused the snag in his breath.

  “Jenny,” he finally growled.

  Oh aye, he did growl. And along with it brought one knee up to the mattress so he could loom over and then in, threading all five fingers of one hand into her wind-tossed waves. Tellin’ her, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t afraid to really do this…to fly into the explosion with her. But she had to be willing to face it too. She had to make him throw that lever for lightspeed. She had to show him…somehow…

  “Somehow” got its answer fast. Than
k fuck. He had no idea what spurred her to push up a little more, turnin’ her face against his palm, but the simple beauty of it felt like the fulfillment of his destiny—even if all destiny was going to give them was right now. He’d take it. Every ragin’, ravishin’, punishin’, perfect second of it.

  Like the one in which she abandoned the frame of his hand…and turned her face toward the bulge in his crotch. And then rested her mouth on it. And then sweetly, silently, deliberately leaned in—until she was biting at the stiff fabric.

  “Jenny.”

  He wasn’t sure if he groaned it or sobbed it. He was damn sure that definition didn’t matter. Were definitions even a pertinent concern once the world seized on its fuckin’ axis? Because nothin’—not a damn bloody thing—was more vibrant or relevant or important than what she blatantly offered with that dulcet nip of her gorgeous lips. For the first time in years, every fuckin’ thing in his senses—the memories, the anger, the frustration, the loss—was gone, phased into nonexistence by his utter need to feel all of this, to connect to all of this.

  To build a bridge over all the leaves in his crazy waters.

  So he could get back to her.

  Only, always now, to her.

  “Jenny.” His voice wasn’t any stronger, but at least his touch was. Somehow, he found her scalp again and dug his grip in harder against the back of her head. In response, she smiled against his throbbing center. Cheeky minx. His precious mouse…

  “Oh dear fuck.” And now, apparently, the shrewd lover who’d already gotten the drift about how he liked her teeth against his denim too. “Woman…when you take my banger like that…shit! Jenny!”

  “Ssshhh.” She grabbed his empty belt loops, yanking him closer.

  “Wait. Wait.” He moaned it but had to shove even that into his throat for the volume. But the interruption wasn’t negotiable. Because he needed to be clear with her before she bloody near made him jizz in his jeans with the magic of her talented teeth. Talented teeth? How was that even a thing? And how did he not know by now that any fuckin’ thing was possible with this glorious goddess? Fighting back what his brain did with that imagery, he managed to spurt, “Mouse. I…I really didn’t bring you out here to—”