Seduced by the Storm (4 page)

"You
on the pill?" he asked, because ACRO had yet to steal a patent on an
anti-pregnancy drug for men.

"Mmm…yes…hurry."

Pressing
her down, he held her wrists against the sheet. He wanted to bury himself
inside her, watch her face, see her with that cool choker. And that’s exactly
what he did, took her hard and fast while one of her legs wrapped around his
lower back, and proceeded to fuck her into the mattress. Not roughly, but he
wasn’t gentle either.

Faith
had no problem with it. She kept one foot firmly on the mattress, used it to
give herself leverage so she could rock her hips up to meet him, stroke for
stroke, and she was moaning. Uncontrollably.

"Keep
fucking me, Wyatt."

And
he did, through a multiple orgasm that shook her, body and mind, until she was
incoherent and his own body demanded release.

The
beauty of the sex thing, when he was deep in the throes of it, was his own
ability to have multiple orgasms, something that most men couldn’t experience.
It was like falling, closing his eyes and trusting his body’s responses. White
light blasted from under his lids; his legs straightened as she contracted
around his cock.

His
body shook and he let himself fall onto his elbows, his forehead pressed to
hers. Her arms went around him as a contented groan escaped her throat while he
nuzzled against the velvet fabric of the choker.

"Your
weight feels good," she murmured. "Don’t move."

"I
wasn’t planning on it, but my body has other ideas. Plenty of them." He
was hard again, and he was still inside her.

THE
LOVELY MAN was still hard.

Faith
wrapped her legs around Wyatt’s waist and smiled up at him as he watched her
with those fabulous eyes. His mouth was open slightly, lips glistening from
kissing her. He thrust slowly, each slide of his cock scraping over flesh
already sensitive after several orgasms. It wouldn’t take much for her to climb
the peak again—a peak that would punch with sharp clarity through the fog of
bliss in which she seemed to be stuck. For a split second she’d wonder what had
gotten into her, and then Wyatt would kiss her, or lick her neck, or thrust deep,
and she’d fall under his spell once more.

Like
she was right now. "Want to mix things up a bit?" she asked, and he
cocked an eyebrow.

"What
did you have in mind?"

She
jerked her chin toward the four-person Jacuzzi near the panoramic windows that
overlooked the dark Atlantic. "Do you like to get wet?"

"Oh,
yeah."

They
padded to the hot tub, and she entered first, hissing at the intense heat as
she immersed herself. When she was waist deep, she kneeled on one of the
benches and told Wyatt to stay where he was, standing at the edge of the tub.
He watched her with open curiosity as she ran her hands up his muscular legs,
over wicked scars she’d have asked about if she ever planned to see him again.

His
thighs quivered at her touch. His cock, thick and wrapped in dusky, smooth
skin, jumped when she leaned in to kiss his hip. She trailed kisses inward,
each one making Wyatt’s breath come faster.

"What
do you want me to do, Wyatt?" She licked the base of his shaft up and down
like a candy cane and looked at him. His eyes glowed with a feral light, a
trick of the full moon shining through the window. The raw hunger in his
expression was no trick, though, and when he spoke, the hunger dripped from his
deep, growling voice.

"Put
your mouth on me. Suck my cock."

Smiling,
she trailed her tongue down, planning to suck him, but not like he wanted. The
soft musk of his arousal heightened her own, and her mouth watered as she
pressed her lips to the velvety sac below his erection.

A low
groan escaped him, encouraging her. Slowly, she sucked one heavy testicle into
her mouth and worked it gently with her tongue. He threaded the fingers of one
hand through her hair and palmed his erection with the other, stroking himself
as she suckled his balls, giving each special attention.

"You’re
so good at that," he said, and she almost laughed, because if he only knew
what she could do with her gift, how she could stroke him from the inside as
well as the out, it would blow his mind.

She
could make him come without laying a finger on him.

Which
would ruin her fun, because she wanted all her fingers on him.

Gently,
he pushed her away and joined her in the water, his big body filling the tub
and blocking her view of anything but his broad chest. He circled around behind
her and cupped her breasts, used his thumbs to flick their wet tips until they
peaked, flushed and ripe. His erection slipped between her legs, and she
reached down into the water to run her fingers over the head as he rocked his
hips.

"You’re
so beautiful," he murmured into her hair. "Tall. You’re a good
fit."

Wrapping
his arms around her, he sat, pulling her down onto his lap so her back rested
against his chest. He slid both hands over her breasts, across her belly, and
between her legs.

She
let him spread her thighs wide, exposing her sex to the hot water. His tongue
traced the shell of her ear as he dipped one finger between her folds and began
to stroke, slowly, back and forth through her slit. The water jets massaged her
legs, her waist, her feet. Wyatt might as well have had ten hands.

Curls
of pleasure swirled up from between her legs where the tip of his finger pushed
inside her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d treated sex as a luxury,
a relaxing indulgence, and after the fast and furious pace of what they’d done
earlier, this was a double treat.

In no
way had her drive slowed down, though, and she wanted his touch as badly as
ever. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew they should have used condoms
even though she took contraceptive pills and even though physicians at TAG
purged the body of all diseases after each job. She also knew she shouldn’t
have brought him to her room. Not when she was on a mission.

Then
again, this man didn’t strike her as an enemy agent, didn’t come across as
anything but a roughneck with some military experience.

He
definitely had some sexual experience, and he wielded it like a weapon, using
it to devastate her willpower.

Every
push of his finger inside her, every circle of his thumb around her clit, had
her panting and squirming against his hand.

"Please,"
she gasped. "Please make me come."

Wyatt
scraped his teeth over the back of her neck and shifted, spreading her legs
wider, and surprise sucked the air from her lungs. He’d turned her so one of
the Jacuzzi jets streamed water against her sex.

"Oh,
God." Groaning, she threw her head back onto Wyatt’s hard shoulder.

"You
like that. You like the water licking your pussy, fucking you hard."

She
couldn’t answer, could barely breathe as he spread her swollen flesh with his
fingers, exposing her even more to the frothy jet. She pulled her feet up
against her butt, braced them on his knees so every inch of her sensitive flesh
could benefit from the gurgling spurts.

Hot
bubbles danced over her clit, stroking and pulsing. She whimpered, and Wyatt
closed his mouth over hers, swallowing the sounds of her climax as it took her
with such force her hips came up out of the water.

The
walls of her pussy were still convulsing when Wyatt lifted her and settled her
on her knees on a bench so she was bent over the edge of the Jacuzzi. He
entered her hard, stuffed her deliciously full. She pushed back against him,
taking everything he could give.

"Oh,
yeah," he said, his voice guttural, breathless. "Talk to me,
baby."

His
cock knocked against her womb, making her cry out with pleasure. "Talk
naughty to you?"

"Naughty,
not naughty"—his fingers dug into her hips as he pumped—"anything. I
want to hear your voice."

"Naughty,
then," she managed between panting breaths. "Because I love the way
your cock feels inside me. It’s almost as good as when you licked me
there."

His
moan vibrated through her, sweetening the already honeyed pleasure building at
her core.

"You
liked going down on me," she continued. "Liked pushing your tongue deep,
liked sucking my clit. God, it was good. Your face buried in my pussy, my mouth
milking your cock and caressing your balls, so tight, so filled with come. Do
you know what you taste like, love?"

"No,"
he rasped. "No one has ever, ah, damn…" He stopped thrusting, gripped
her tenaciously and panted, his control nearly breaking. After a moment, he
rocked into her again, slow and easy. "No one has ever told me."

"You
taste salty and heady, like the ocean and ale. I could suck you off all night
long."

"Fuck."
His thrusts came faster, and she felt him swell inside her, knew he was close.
So was she.

"Yes,
fuck. Fuck me, Wyatt. Harder."

The
sound of water sloshing against the edges of the tub mingled with the wet slap
of his balls against her sex, and then his roar of release joined in. His seed
pulsed inside her, hot, silky, and bursts of pleasure shot through her as her
own orgasm shook her apart.

For a
full minute, they remained where they were. When their breathing and pulses
slowed, Wyatt wrapped his arms around her and dragged her back into the water,
where he caressed her arms and back with lazy, long strokes.

They
kissed, leisurely smooches that led to another round of sex, in the shower and
again in bed, and after what must have been her tenth orgasm, he pressed her
into the mattress and rested his forehead against hers, smiling sadly.

"I
have to go."

"I
know."

There
was nothing left to say. They were strangers, even if what had happened between
them felt like more than meaningless stranger sex. At least, it felt like more
to her. He might do this all the time.

She
did what she had to when she was on a mission, but in her personal life, she
preferred to actually get to know a man before she had sex with him. Doing
something like this wasn’t like her.

What
really annoyed her was that she couldn’t even blame her behavior on alcohol.
Maybe her nerves about seeing Sean tomorrow had affected her. She’d been wound
tight lately, knowing that a nightmare was about to begin. One last fling
before throwing herself into the lion’s den was probably just the thing to take
the edge off.

And
Wyatt had done that, brilliantly. She’d never been so relaxed.

She
threw on a hotel robe and held Mr. Wiggums while Wyatt dressed. The tatty
stuffed rabbit went everywhere with her, had been all that remained of the twin
sister she’d last seen when she was five and whose status had been
unknown—until one week ago. Now Liberty might very well die before they could
be reunited, if Faith failed this latest mission.

She
could not—would not—fail. The images of a very young Liberty, in tears and
handing over her favorite toy to Faith as she was being carried away by
"people who could help her," was burned into her brain. If only
Liberty had hidden her biokinetic gift better—a gift identical to Faith’s, but
that had developed much earlier—maybe they would still be together. Then again,
maybe Liberty would have died in the storm that had killed their parents and
that Faith had barely escaped.

Putting
aside both her thoughts and Mr. Wiggums, she watched Wyatt approach, his eyes
glowing.

"I’d
ask for your phone number," he said, cupping her cheek, "but I doubt
you’ll even remember this if I called."

She
swatted his hand away. "You think I’m such a slut that I won’t remember
which guy is calling me?" And why the hell was she getting mad, when she
knew damned good and well that they couldn’t see each other again? They were
from different countries, different worlds.

"It’s
not that. I’m just not memorable." He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed
her so thoroughly that by the time he was done, she was clinging to his shirt
as though desperate to keep him from leaving. "See ya, Faith Black."

He
swept out of the room, leaving her standing on wobbly legs. Not memorable? Was
he daft? Because she knew, without a doubt, that Wyatt No Last Name would be
the lover to which she’d forever compare all others.

Devlin
O’Malley opened his eyes and blinked and then blinked again and again and then
he smiled because,
hoo-fucking-rah,
let there be light. Real light, not
filtered through his second sight, and his body relaxed on the bed in the guest
quarters on the ACRO compound, where he’d been staying for the past four months
because his blindness was officially gone.

Ten
years in the dark gone in an instant last spring, the same way the light was
taken from him all those years ago when he’d been piloting that C-130. Yes, the
heavy weight—and the bad karma that had come along with it—was finally gone.

Today,
he was going home, to his own house, and returning to his role as leader of
ACRO. Taking back the helm, a job his lover and best friend had been handling
for him—a job Oz hated doing, which made Dev appreciate him all the more.