G-Men: The Series (114 page)

“Are you frightened of storms?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I used to love watching them as a child,” I admitted. “Until the time lightning struck a tree, and a huge limb crashed through my bedroom window. Not so much after that.”

He was beside me now, watching me carefully. “You’ve no need to worry. I promise nothing will come crashing through your windows here.”

Once we’d reached the top of the stairs, Easton stopped and turned to me. “Have a restful night, Darcy. If you need anything, my suite is just down this hallway,” he said, nodding to the left.

“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling flushed. The thunderous boom of the latest bolt of lightning sent me skittering to the right to find comfort beneath the covers of my bed. I finally managed to fall back asleep as the storm passed over.

Sometime later, I was once again awakened by angry claps of thunder rattling the windows in my suite unmercifully. I let out a low screech, sitting upright immediately, forgetting for the moment where I was. My heart was pounding in my chest. Torrents of rain were splashing furiously against the windows. The wind was howling through the old stone fortress and suddenly I felt as if I’d been transitioned back in time to one of those old horror movies myself.

I stared at the closed, solid oak door, bringing the bed covers up underneath my chin. My eyes were glued on the polished brass doorknob, watching and waiting for it to slowly turn with a barely audible squeak that would alert me someone was lurking behind it, preparing to pounce on me. Just as that thought finished, a blinding flash of lightning illuminated the room and a thunderous clap of thunder followed behind. I let out a scream that rivaled that of the chick from Bride of Frankenstein.

Shit Darcy! Get hold of yourself, girl.

I clapped my hand over my own mouth to keep myself quiet as the storm continued its rampage outside. Just then, I did hear the squeak of the doorknob. I saw it turn slowly as the door creaked open. I let loose with another blood-curdling scream, not giving a damn who in the hell heard me!

“Darcy,” Easton said softly, swiftly crossing the distance to my bed, looking pretty damn fine in his low slung P.J. bottoms and white tee. “I heard you scream from down the hall. Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry,” I gasped, shaking my head. “I guess those movies we watched and these thunderstorms rattling outside set me off. I didn’t mean to wake you, Easton.”

“You didn’t,” he said smiling. “I was still up reading. Storms like this make it tough for anyone to sleep. Just keep telling yourself it will pass over; they always do, right?”

He was trying to ease my mind. It was actually kind of sweet. Another flash of lightning streaked through the windows and what sounded like a dynamite explosion, complete with a popping sound followed. The light from the hallway flickered a couple of times and then went out, along with the lamp I’d left on in the sitting room. I muffled another scream, diving under the covers.

“It’s alright, love,” his soft voice was closer. I felt the bed dip with his weight beside me. “A transformer blew, that’s all. Would you like me to stay in here until we get power back?”

“Would you?” I asked timidly, not proud of the fact I was probably feeding into the “macho” he wore around his neck like a medallion.

“Certainly,” he said, stretching out beside me on the bed. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close against his chest.

I could hear hail pelting against the windows in torrents, more thunder rattled off in the distance.

“You know,” he whispered against the back of my neck, “they say you can know how close you are to the centre of the storm by counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder.”

“Well, I’d say we’re there what with it being
on top
of us and all,” I replied, snuggling deeper into him. I felt his amused chuckle more than I heard it. Another bolt of lightning flashed and I tensed up against him, poising myself for the thunder that would follow.

“Count, Darcy,” he commanded softly. I felt Easton’s hand sift through my hair, running his fingers through the strands gently. It was calming and electrifying at the same time. It was as if he and I had this magnetic force field between us that continually drew us together, regardless whether we wanted it to or not.

The thunder rolled out, making the room echo in reverberation. Another flash lit up the room, as Easton’s lips lightly suckled the skin at the nape of my neck, causing me to shiver.

“Cold, love?” he asked, my skin felt the movements of his lips. I felt a whimper coming from the bottom of my throat.

“Count
,” he ordered again, his lips now making their way to my jawline as one of his hands idly played with the thin hem of my cotton shirt…

I rolled over so that my face was to his. Even in the darkness, I could see his face; his eyes were searching mine for something.

“Did you fuck me because I looked like her?” I asked quietly.

“Yes,” he whispered, not taking his eyes from mine.

I sighed, somehow relieved that at least he had enough respect not to lie about it.

“Are you holding me
now
because I look like her?” I felt the adrenaline catch fire in my veins, afraid of his answer, but needing to know the truth.

“No.”

He lowered his face to mine, his tongue tracing a pattern against my lips. He was gentle, taking his time, his hands now lightly massaging my back and hips. God! Was this another lesson for me? It was impossible for me to remain unresponsive to his touch. I melted against him, my lips now moving with his in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue gently exploring my mouth, his teeth nipping, tugging ever-so-lightly at my lower lip.

His hands. His glorious hands were searching beneath my clothes for skin. He pulled the covers back exposing me fully to his eyes, hands and lips. I rolled my head back and forth on the pillow, allowing him to free me of my shirt and panties; all the while, his lips traveled a slow and deliberate path down the column of my throat, licking, nipping, and kissing me into more soft whimpers.

I felt his hand grasp mine, moving it to rest on his erection. I didn’t hesitate in springing his cock free; allowing my fingers to curl around the thick expanse of it, fingering the soft skin around the head. I heard a soft moan escape his lips as my hand traveled his length, sliding up and down slowly, bringing his erection fuller and harder.

It was as if the storm outside ceased to exist for us. I heard no more thunder, no more wind or rain pelting against the windows. All I was aware of at this moment was Easton: how he looked, how he felt, how he smelled and how he tasted.

His lips pulled away from my breasts momentarily, as he looked deeply into my eyes.

Oh God!

“Are you sure you really want this? Nothing’s changed from my perspective.”

“Yes,” I whispered, huskily. “I want you to fuck me, Easton. And I want you to know that it’s me that you’re fucking.”

He rose up, his lips capturing mine once again for a long, sweet kiss before he once again traveled to my breasts, his hands grasping and cupping them roughly, while his mouth sucked each rosy peak. I moved both hands to his cock, increasing the pressure and tempo of stroking, hearing his moans coming louder as his hips thrust forward.

“I need to taste your sweet cunt,” he murmured, moving lower where his fingers gently plied the tender folds of my flesh. His tongue swirled over my clit again and again, licking, lapping and gently nipping as I swelled for him.

“Oh God,” I moaned, my hips flexing against him as he thrust a finger inside of me, his mouth still sucking hungrily from my core. Another one of his long fingers entered me, and his tongue was now thrusting slowly and deliberately in and out of my pussy.

“God, you’re dripping wet, love,” he said, licking my essence, as if he couldn’t get enough of it. “And your pussy tastes so fucking sweet.” His tongue and lips continued working their electric magic on my soft folds. My hips moved in response.

“Mmmm,” was all I could manage, as my breathing quickened along with my pulse rate.

Easton lifted me up, rolling underneath me. I instinctively straddled his hips as he lowered me just above his swollen cock. He dipped me down just a bit, just enough so that I could feel the rounded ball studs swirl around my clit, as he moved my hips back and forth, teasing his piercing against my slit. I drew in a sharp breath, allowing my orgasm to release from there. I whimpered loudly as the surges of pleasure enveloped me, knowing the best was still yet to come.

His fullness was inside of me now, as I leaned forward just a bit to find the perfect angle. I rode his cock from root to tip, pivoting myself up and down slowly, going full depth onto him and grinding against him each time. His hands were fondling my breasts, roughly now. His tongue flickered over his lips and his eyes darkened with passion as he watched me fucking him. I rocked forward to back, up then down and, as I continued, I could feel my sweet spot swell against his cock piercing that was hitting it just right with each downward stroke. I could feel myself squeezing him, and his breathing was coming faster, as was mine.

“Darcy,” he rasped, “your cunt’s squeezing me like a greedy bitch. Are you ready for it, baby?”

“Oh, yeah,” I whispered hoarsely. “I want it, Easton. Fuck me hard.”

His hands immediately braced my hips, lifting me up and pushing me back down on his cock over and over again as our orgasms crashed around us. Easton groaned my name over and over again, as his cock throbbed and then emptied his climax inside of me, leaving no doubt as to whom he was fucking tonight.

^{chapter 27}

When I awoke the following morning, Easton was still wrapped around me securely. I glanced at the clock, noticing it was after 10:00 a.m. What happened to his morning ritual of getting up at 4:30 and working out? As the low thunder still rumbled outside, I realized he’d stayed here for me. We’d fucked throughout the night, oblivious to the storms raging outside. They were nothing in comparison to the storms that had raged in this very room. Over and over again. I felt a smile form on my lips.

I rolled over to face him, my hand stroking his unkempt hair, my fingers tracing his unshaven face. His eyes opened and he smiled at me warmly.

“Morning,” he said. “I see you survived the storm no worse for the wear.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I replied, yawning. “Some British cad took advantage of the situation and ravaged me throughout the night.”

“Is that right?” he asked, smiling. “Maybe it was a figment of your imagination.”

“Think so?” I asked coquettishly. “Some figment. I can still feel the remnants dripping out of me,” I teased.

“You
are
a crude colonial,” he remarked dryly. “Come, let’s hit the gym together and start our day off right.”

Easton and I worked out together and then showered—separately. He insisted on making breakfast for us: fried eggs, bacon and toast. I busied myself with checking my e-mails, making a few calls back to the U.S., then went to hunt him down. He was on the phone in his study, barking angrily at someone. I stayed out in the hall, polite enough not to intrude, yet nosy enough to want to listen.

“I don’t understand that at all, Devon, this should’ve been handled weeks ago and now you’re fucking telling me you and your staff dropped the ball?”

He paused; obviously Devon on the other end was likely tossing out some excuse for whatever he and his staff had failed to do.

“That’s no goddamn excuse. Women have babies all the time. Some of them have them out in the rice fields while working, stopping long enough to whelp, and then get back to their bloody harvesting. You took a six-week leave, which was sufficient time for your recovery and to stay on track with this project.”

Holy shit! Devon’s a ‘she?’

“I’ll fly out on Monday morning to handle this. Be prepared to update me on the status by 1:00 p.m. your time. Make no mistake; I’m prepared to clean house over this.”

(Pause)

“I think you know what I mean. It’s time for you to decide whether you really want a high-level career with Baronton, or are better suited to motherhood. Despite what feminist propagandists may preach, you really can’t have it all, Devon.”

Jesus, dude. Harsh much?

I guess the comforting and comfortable Easton from last night was gone. But that really wasn’t what bothered me the most…it was the fact that this was a
woman
he was speaking to, whose job he was threatening to take because…what? She went off and had a baby and had the audacity to
try
and work through that for her employer and fell a little short on some things?

What the hell did he expect from the girl?!

“Excuse me, doc? Do you think it’d be okay if you just e-mail me when it’s time to push? I have to make some deadlines and you’re tripping up my Wi-Fi every time you come within three feet. ‘Kay, thanks.”

We nearly collided as I resumed my entrance to his study as he was starting to exit.

“I’m sorry,” I said, backing away from him. I wasn’t sure whether he was still angry over the thing with Devon and one of his companies. If so, I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.