Honey Moon (22 page)

“I found and lost you too many times to not seize the moment,” Sam said. Two strides and she tumbled onto the bed. He stood over her and yanked his arms out of the jacket. It hit the floor. He unbuttoned the rumpled dress shirt, flinching as he shrugged it off and took note of the sweat stains. “Could you stay like that while I rinse off? Two minutes?”

“Sure,” she lied. “But make it one minute.”

He unbuckled his pants, heading into the bathroom. She swallowed hard, staring at the most perfect man she’d never fully seen unclothed—and damn well would as soon as possible.

The sounds of running water rang out. She pushed off the bed to her feet, and soon realized there was little choice if she wanted to shed the skintight burned and tattered gown without taking ten years to figure out how to reach the zipper without dislocating her arm. She grasped the corners of the bodice in each hand.

Fuck. What the hell do they make these things out of?
The material wouldn’t rip. “God damn it,” she snapped and pulled harder. Last time she ever wore a bloody dress. “Oh Christ.” She gasped to herself as it dawned on her that the adjective she’d used to describe the gown was literally true. The bright white bodice was speckled with Lav’s blood, as well as black smut.

“Hey. I
told
you not to move.”

She startled at the stern tone, spinning to face Sam standing nude in front of her. Water drops clung to every lean, muscled bit of him, including nasty bruising all round his chest. Her gaze raced south to halt midway down his long body. In all its mouth-watering glory, his cock hung plump and heavy. Turgid and growing harder and thicker as she eyed him.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured.

Not a damn thing that she could see. She felt her cheeks flushing as hot as the rest of her body as she jerked her gaze up. Sam scrubbed his forehead, pushing wet hair from his eyes. “Jenna?”

“I can’t get out of this stupid dress.”

A large smile burst across his face. He closed in to twist her around. “That’s intolerable. And, sweetheart, much as I liked that pink thing, I sure hope the way this dress hugs you, there’s nothing but you underneath.”

His fingers brushed her neck, sending electric jolts into her chest as the zipper went down and he peeled the gown off her shoulders. She heard his breath hitch as he looked over her shoulder at her breasts popping free. Like it had a mind of its own, his cock jutted out to press into her back.

All doubts, insecurities whether he wanted her as a fast fuck, a sweetheart, a wife, went poof in a rough gust, comparable to a chopper being blown out of the sky, as Sam groaned and wrapped his arms around her to clasp a breast in each hand. “You are so beautiful.” He squeezed gently then harder, running his thumbs over her nipples. “Thank you for granting my first wish. Let’s see if my second will come true as well.”

“What wish?” she squeaked. His cock jerked against her, working the silk of the dress between her legs, and if she could have her heart’s desire in that moment, she’d become six inches taller and he’d jackhammer those seven to eight impressive inches into any hole he wanted. From head to toe her flesh and bones hummed with the chemistry she felt for the man trailing his hands down her ribs. He bent and began kissing along her spine.

“No bra. Now I pray for no panties.” Hands on her hips, he pulled back and fell to his knees. His face pressed into her lower back, he kissed her bare skin and trailed his tongue down as the torn and dirty silk fabric deserted her, taking all cognitive thought with it, other than how much she wanted him inside her. Little kisses and nibbles became exhilarating licks and she moaned, her legs trembling in an effect not to push against him. He eased his head back, dropped his hands from her hips and lifted one leg at a time to free her from the shambles of the wedding gown to leave her as nude as him.

“Ohhh Lord,” he murmured. “Sweeter than I imagined. You know, this is the first time I’ve had chance to look at my wife’s butt?”

She straightened, shivers running through her as he groaned and clasped her hips, twisting her away from the dress and around to face him. “But you don’t want vanilla or anal sex in a stranger’s house.” He guided her backward. “So, my turn to snack.” He stopped at the edge of the bed and brushed his finger along her cheek, rubbing at soot or blood?

“How do you know what I want?” she murmured, her heart racing.

His hands froze. “Tell me.”

She tugged loose. “Okay. Don’t move while I hop in that shower.”

He scowled. “No. It’s a standard bathroom stall. Plenty of room for me and a peanut-sized girl. I want to scrub, kiss, touch…taste…”

She stalked away, smiling as he went silent. She wished she dared to exaggerate the swing of her hips as his gaze drilled into her backside. No question, he breathed like he was a man who liked what he saw, and her entire body tingled with anticipation. “I know exactly how big you are. Be right back.”

“Shower together or not, I’d never do anything you don’t like.”

She stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Look for a condom,” she whispered.
God, hope he knows we’ll need a truckload of lube as well.
“Vanilla could turn into chocolate or any of a zillion flavors, and I…might…could…
do
want to try them all. You up for that?”

“Sure,” he groaned and she heard him falling backward on the bed. “I’m as up as a guy can get, but it’ll take a lifetime.”

“Yes.” She chuckled and walked forward. “Lives end in a blink. I won’t waste a second more than I need to wash Lav’s blood off me.”

“Okay. Hurry.”

She scurried into the bathroom. Visions of that lean body and stiff cock waiting for her swirled in her head as she turned on the shower and stepped into the stall. Hot water pounded onto her face and breasts and she smacked the app beside the knob. Body lotion sprayed out, surprisingly clean and crisp-scented, and she took the fastest shower of her life.

She hurried from the shower into the dry blast of heated air, not waiting for it to do more than take the edge off her dripping. She didn’t glance into the mirror, but strode as fast as she could back into the bedroom.

And halted.
Oh God.
He looked so cute. Sprawled on his back, thick cock nestled between his spread legs, arms out and eyes closed as his chest rose with the deep inhalation of a man who’d passed the stage of dozing into being pretty much comatose to the world.

Chapter Fourteen

Something’s not right
, muttered the annoying dude—the devil—who was perched on Sam’s metaphoric shoulder and stating the obvious inside his mind. A mind that agreed with eons of reasoning that if there were a demonic presence in the universes, it surely wouldn’t waste dark energy by invading the dreams of a miniscule chump of stardust named Samuel Dexter.

No shit
, said the equally grating voice of Logic.
Stuff happens when authorities have us trapped in a condo marked with a big red X.

The devil snorted.
That’s the gist of it. Nothing’s happening. It’s stupid to waste the lull in action by no action. Naked. In a bed. Get it up.

Shut it up
, snapped Logic.
Sleep is the closest to peace an exhausted brain—neurons all braced to be splattered to kingdom come in a hail of police bullets—can get.

Didn’t we promise to love, cherish and make come in the wretched kingdom that’s here and now?
The devil growled.
Asshole. Wake. Up.

Right
, said Logic in that dry, sarcastic tone.
Address the ass and ignore me, the neocortex? Fuck it and fuck you, Dexter. Let Worry and Stupidity deal with your devil. I’m sick of trying to rescue a hopeless dreamer. I’m outta here. Off to find a Vulcan who appreciates me.

The devil laughed as Logic threw up its lack of hands, exiting stage right, and Sam groaned, aware he did so in his sleep. The definition of insanity was dreaming of enduring verbal abuse within his thoughts as his mind tried to coerce his unhappy body to rouse.

So far, despite the increasing agitation within, the waking up thing wasn’t happening. His fists twitched at his sides, his stomach muscles were knotted and his heartbeat uneasy but, damn it, he needed this. He didn’t know where he was, why his legs dangled off the edge as if he lay on a little kid’s bed and he didn’t care. He just wanted to sleep—for a few years or so.

Taking a nap in the middle of a war is the true insanity,
whined Worry, the relentless voice that Sam knew would drone on and on.
Where are we? Why aren’t we in the bed right? Will our chest ever stop hurting? Hey! Someone answer before I explode our head. Where the fuck are we?

Our ass is on the end part of some stranger’s bed after bailing out of the sky
, said Idiot, the nutter who thought being a spy slash terrorist was epic.
Parachuted from a chopper that got blown up. How cool was that?

Moron,
the devil chimed in.
The authorities have this place surrounded. Dexter, you know my game and my name is Sin. So if you want to have some fun before the curtain goes down, get with the program. There’s needs—righteously deadly sins—to attend to. Got to find somewhere safe, then stuff face, figure out why everyone dotes on a purple-eyed clown who’s much too into our girl for a gay man, wrathfully strangle an admiral, get a prideful blog post up
—

Don’t be me
, Idiot interrupted.
Sam, listen. Deadly sins can wait. We need to recoup and heal. John Q. Public is an effective barricade against the LC. Just go back to sleep.

No
, gasped Heart.
Wake up completely.

Great
, grumbled Devil.
Who asked any organs to awaken? Too bad I’m not real and holding a pitchfork. Heartburn, broken heart, ripped from the chest, I could go on and on.

Go spin someone’s head
, Heart told Devil.
Sam, you gotta snap out of this.
She
isn’t safe.

She?
bellowed Cock.
Where? On this bed? Jenna, I hope. Move this naked ass. Shift to the side. Let me see.

Sam gave up. All hope of remaining unconscious, letting his body recover, would continue to be clobbered under the most powerful voice in a clamoring sea of desires. He could always count on one deadly sin to outshout the others.

Now that his dick had sprung to life, any sort of slothful sleep was history. No matter what his stomach had to say, Gluttony wouldn’t even get to taste a couple of strawberries, assuming some sweetheart placed a bowl within reaching distance. Wrath, Envy and Pride didn’t stand a chance.

Oh God. Hang on
, gasped Blood Cells.
Here we go again. Rushing south the moment the big stiff scents the air.

Love me, do me, fuck yeah, yeah, yeah
, sang Cock.
Pump me up, you little fat hemoglobin cells. I wanna come, come, come—

“Quiet,” Sam snapped.

“Sam…?” murmured a sweet, sleepy voice from too far away. “You’re awake?”

Thank Christ, the question was too rational to come from within his squirrelly head and it had the desired effect. The weird brain activity flatlined, silenced by loss of blood, the rise of dick and the voice of an angel promising heaven somewhere just above his head. Sam pushed his eyelids up.

The ceiling of the stranger’s bedroom staring down at him was awash in shadows, lit by one dull light by the door. He blinked, craning his neck toward the slender shape lying higher up on the bed. It looked like about a thousand miles of sheet separated them, a problem he’d fix at once.

Sam started to roll to his side, and all two hundred and six bones within him began to throb in protest. He remained on his back, slapped his palms to the bed and shifted upward until the top of his head banged into a pillow. He pushed it into the bed board and leaned back. His heart started beating again when the gap alongside him morphed into the most perfect curves.

He opened his arm—
waiting—waiting—ahhh
. So lovely, her eyes closed, face awash in sleep, the most beautiful woman in the world settled her head on his chest. Just like that the hurt behind his ribs disappeared. “How long was I out?”

“Ten minutes,” Jenna murmured.

He clasped her closer. “Christ. Sorry. I usually only sleep five minutes every three days.”

“Um…maybe it’s been a few hours or so. Not sure.”

“Any thoughts on how I can make it up to you?”

A small hand eased low. “I think you are up.” Jenna brushed her fingers against the base of his cock and his skin quivered with delight. She fluttered her eyes open. “Shouldn’t we see what’s happening?”

“Outside of this room? Hell, no. I’m naked. You’re wearing some guy’s robe.” He pushed at the material, slipping it off her shoulder so he could caress the bare skin of her upper arm. “Does this robe mean, you know, the honeymoon’s over?”

Jenna laughed. “I sure hope so.” She peeked up at him, then settled back and drew a deep breath. “There’s a com-desk by the window. Before I fell asleep, I checked. No Net. I can’t remember the last time that happened.”

“Ten years ago.” A shiver ran down Sam’s spine. Problems with security had been traced to three different continents and a number of major dating sites. Shortly after the sites were shutdown, the LC took control on a global scale and since then the Net had remained deceptively stable.