Master of the Deep (9 page)

She wasn’t a photographer, her camera wasn’t top of the line, and the lighting didn’t even approach being perfect. But she loved this deserted boardwalk. The ocean here wasn’t like that in Tureygua. The blue was tinged with brown, the surface more agitated.
 

Still, it made a nice backdrop for the abandoned buildings. She lowered the camera and stared at a hanging sign above her.

The wind and water had corroded the edges, and the paint was mostly missing. What looked like a yellow smiley face was now rusted. She stared. Had it once been black?
 

The boards over the building’s entrance were sloppy, and she carefully pressed her face to a gap between them. Couldn’t see a damned thing inside, though. She backed up, took a few photos, then continued walking.

By the time she ran out of interesting things to document, her forty minutes had passed. Back to the lab.
 

As she reached the park, she saw a tall, wide-shouldered man, his head down.
 

For the briefest fraction of a second, she didn’t realize it was Koenraad, probably because she hadn’t expected to see him out here. But even after she recognized him, that first impression he’d made was fresh in her mind.

The guy was sizzling hot. And also really, really big.
 

He looked up, already smiling like he knew she was there. “Did you enjoy your walk?”

“I did.” All the stress she’d felt while on the boat was completely gone, and the way things were going, she doubted she’d be shocked by anything else he had to say. At this point, all things seemed possible.

“Are you finished at the lab?”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him as they walked. Their bodies just fit together, which she never would have predicted given their difference in height.

“Yup, all done. And I have good news for you.”

She looked up into those gorgeous eyes and wondered how she’d ever thought they were freaky.
 

“We’re flying back. Spencer will take us.”

She thought of the bird bench she’d sat on. “If he’s a bird shifter, I’d rather take the boat.”

“He’s not a pterodactyl. Spencer has had his pilot’s license since he was eighteen. I can promise you that we’re safe with him. We’ve got time, though.”

“Really?” She pulled out her camera and scrolled back to the photos she’d taken of the building. “Do you know what this is?”

Koenraad looked at it. “I do.”

“Well?”

Grinning, he took her hand and began pulling her back toward the boardwalk.
 

She loved how physically affectionate he was. And her hand in his… There was nothing sexual about it, but it turned her on.
 

“This used to be quite the happening spot,” Koenraad said. “Before my time, obviously.” He pulled her up under his arm. When he pointed to the far end of the boardwalk, it brought her even closer to him. “There used to be a Ferris wheel there. And just next to it, a merry-go-round, but no animals. All furniture.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I guess if you were a kid in 1920, you’d be glad to have it.”

“How do you know this?”

“I did quite a bit of research before choosing this location for the lab. I wanted to make sure that no other shifters owned anything in the vicinity.”

“Why?”

“Privacy.”

Hm. Not the sort of answer that invited followup questions. She turned her attention back to the screen. “So what’s the building?”

“Look at the picture on the sign.”

“A smiley face?”
 

Koenraad suddenly kissed her. “I’d love to give you a Rorschach test. It’s not a smiley face.”

He brought her to the door, then released her. She was wrapped in his scent, and she liked it.

“What are you doing?”

He yanked away several of the boards, making enough room for them to enter. “Come on.”

“I can’t believe you’re breaking in,” she said.
 

“No one cares. As long as I put the boards back after.” He ducked through the hole he’d made, and she carefully followed. There was the squeak of a door opening, then a gust as it closed behind her.
 

The inside of the building was dusty, musty, and very dark. “I can’t see squat,” she said.

A moment later, a beam of light shot from Koenraad’s phone. “Put your bag there,” he said, shining the light at her feet.
 

After she lowered it, he swept the light in a semicircle. This was one large room. A counter in the back, cubicles behind it.

“Know yet?”

She shook her head, and Koenraad played the light over plain wooden chairs and tables on the far side. Then across the room in front of her.
 

“Bowling alley,” she squealed when she saw the telltale lanes, the recessed gutters.

“Yup.”
 

“So it’s a smiling bowling ball on the sign?”

“Just a bowling ball. Three holes. The smile is all in your mind.”
 

“You’re just jealous because it doesn’t smile at you,” she said. “Shine the light down this way. I wanna see if there are any balls or pins left.”

She didn’t get far, though, before she realized the place had been cleaned out. “There’s a surprising lack of cobwebs,” she noticed. “And it should be dustier.” She came back to Koenraad. He held the light in front of him, so she couldn’t see his face.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said. He swept the beam slowly up and down her body, lingering on her breasts, then her hips. “Nice ass, too, as I recall. It should be illegal for you to be in a wetsuit.” He made a growling sound, exaggerated to drive home his point. “I was worried you’d look down and see my boner.”

She laughed because Koenraad saying the word
boner
was hilarious.
 

“You think my physical discomfort is amusing?”

“Given the circumstances, yeah. If I’d seen both of them, I would have died.”

“I told you, it’s not like that. I have to make a decision for both to be on display.”

“So display them now.” She said it with a flirty smile, but she was serious.
 

“I’ll show you one.”

One was better than nothing, she decided. Anyway, she hadn’t expected him to do it. “Sold.”

“Then come here.” The light turned off. Even though darkness had nothing to do with sound, it seemed the building had gotten quieter.
 

She took several tentative steps in his direction. “I can’t see,” she said.

“I can. There’s nothing between us but open space.”

“You say that, but air is more dangerous than water. I worked it out earlier.”

Koenraad’s mouth descended on hers. Her surprise turned instantly to a pulsing, aching need for more. She grabbed for him, but her movements were clumsy, and her hands seemed to keep getting in the way.

He lifted her, and she swung her legs around his waist, crossing her feet at the ankle. She wanted to tell him not to drop her, but one thing she knew—she was safe.

She was being lowered onto something hard, and Koenraad was kissing her. His hands slid up under her dress, stopping only when his fingers reached the elastic of her bikini.

“This has to go,” he murmured as he plucked lightly at the fabric. His mouth lowered to her throat. “Now.”

But she didn’t get a chance to do anything about it because he had already yanked her bikini bottom to her knees. He’d stepped away so quickly that she hadn’t even realized what was happening.

“Don’t drop them on the floor.” Her hands swept back and forth, but he was out of reach.

“Ye of little faith,” Koenraad said. He stopped moving, and she wondered what he was doing.

She pushed herself up to sitting. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said, his voice husky. “Everything is right. You’re perfect.”
 

Because it was dark, she rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t have done it if he could see her.

“We have a tradition in Tureygua,” Koenraad said. One of his arms was around her shoulders. The other started at her ankle, slid up her calf. He palmed her muscle, squeezed it, then his fingers were on the move, climbing.
 

The higher his hand went, the more difficult she found it to breathe.
 

“When a woman stays in a man’s house, she’s not supposed to wear clothing. It’s considered rude.”

“Really?” She was having a hard time paying attention. She could feel the heat of his fingers poised just over her wet slit. In the darkness, everything felt a thousand times more intense.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “It’s an insult of the highest order. You’ll have to be naked from now on or risk starting an international incident.”

“Between the States and Tureygua or between humans and shifters?” she asked.

“Whichever is more motivational for you. But seriously, Monroe, your body is gorgeous. I haven’t felt this way about a woman since… actually, ever. Touching you is like discovering a new, secret place that no one else knows about. I want to explore you, to mark and claim you.”

“Mark me?”

The tip of his finger nudged into her. “Oh, yes,” he said. He stroked in a short, stiff arc, just enough to drive her out of her mind.

She heard him messing with his clothing, then it was the swollen head of his cock teasing her. He would press the first few inches into her, then pull out. Over and over he teased her, whipping her into a mindless frenzy of desire.

He was moaning, too… and she took some comfort in knowing that as difficult as this was for her, at least he was suffering, too.

“Pull down the top of your dress,” he said.

“Why?” she asked as she pulled the fabric down. “It’s not like you can see.”

“Just do it.”

The top was tight enough that Koenraad had to help, and by the time he got the fabric down below her breasts, her upper arms were anchored to her sides.

She didn’t know he was leaning closer until she smelled his woodsy shampoo and felt his soft hair brushing against her chin. Then he was tugging on her halter top with his teeth, and as soon as her breasts were uncovered, he sucked a nipple into his mouth.

Her hoarse cry filled the abandoned room as he tugged and sucked on her peak, alternating his gentle treatment with nips.
 

And all the while, his thick cock was just inside her, holding her open. If she hadn’t liked him so very much, she might have hated him. No man should have such perfect self-control. She felt like someone else completely, like some sex-crazed woman who wouldn’t stop at anything to get her pussy stuffed full of hard cock.

It was a bit uncomfortable to realize that. If Koenraad had chosen to be the womanizing playboy that was his birthright, she wouldn’t have stopped wanting him. She couldn’t have stayed out of his bed. Only his kindness kept her from becoming the type of woman who would put up with any manner of horrible treatment.

And no man had made her feel like that before.
 

She was lost. He had made her lost. But she felt found, too, like no one had truly fucked her, or made love to her, ever before.

He took her self-control. Around him, it was like she’d never had any to begin with.

He’d gathered her full breasts together, and she was having a hard time staying upright. Her wrists were locked, her palms pressing hard against the unknown smooth, hard surface.
 

“Fuck me,” she said, the words so gentle that she might as well have asked him to make love to her on a bed of fragrant red roses.

“Since you asked so nicely, I will,” he said, his words harshly choked out. He yanked the front of her dress down to her waist. She struggled against the fabric, twisting her torso until her arms were freed, and she heard him suck in a breath.

Damn, it felt good to drive a man wild with desire. And because she knew he liked that she’d asked, she asked again. “Please fuck me, Koenraad. I’m so horny for you. So wet, want you so bad you have no idea.”

He drove into her, and her body instantly clenched around him. She arched her back and cried out, her fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him closer even though the sensations rocketing through her body were so intense that she wanted to push him away.
 

Everything was dark inside the abandoned bowling alley, but Monroe felt like fireworks were exploding, like she was staring into the sun.

She twisted her fingers tighter into his shirt and held on as he rode her hard, driving mercilessly into her. It was like he knew that she needed it rough right now. Or maybe she was responding to something in him.
 

All that mattered was that they were on the same wavelength, and as her body thrashed under his merciless pounding, everything except Koenraad fell away. She didn’t care about anything else. If the world ended, let it end.
 

Koenraad made a noise halfway between a groan and a growl, and Monroe’s body answered by tightening every muscle. She was tensed from top to bottom, and her pussy squeezed his cock even as she felt slippery wetness drenching everything, and it wasn’t from him; he was still hard, still thrusting with short, deep strokes.

He grabbed her ass, squeezing her soft flesh in his strong fingers. Any other time, she would have pulled away, but his frantic, carnal thrusting told her just how sexy he found her curves.

She felt his cock pumping, pulsing, emptying. She pressed her palms against his brawny, heaving chest. “More,” she gasped. His body was every bit as tensed as hers, and her climax squeezed him, making him shudder.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, he lowered his hands. She felt wetness spilling out of her as her buttocks returned to the hard surface of the table. His cock was still mostly inside her.

“We do a lot of screwing on objects that aren’t beds,” she murmured when she could talk. “Is that a shifter thing?”

“You’re blaming me?” He sounded incredulous, but because she couldn’t see his face in the darkness, she had no idea if he was playing around or not. “You’re the one who keeps starting sex when we’re nowhere near a bed.”

“Me? I do not!”