The Law of Motion (Law Series) (49 page)

Sliding his flattened hands down my back, he gripped my ass, grinding me against him, only to finally break away from my mouth to gaze up at me with pure heat in his eyes.

"Bring that sweet pussy to me, baby," he purred, his voice almost hypnotizing in its carnal sound.

I grinned, remembering the guards outside my cell, and my thoughts of how different the word pussy sounded when it was said the right the way—and Adrian
 
always
 said it the right way.

He slid lower beneath me, so that I was straddling him with my knees on either side of his head.

"What?" he asked, caressing the outside of my thighs, only to place a kiss just shy of where I needed his mouth the most.

"Nothing," I groaned, unable to keep my hips still as I writhed to get closer to him.

"Tell me, love," he teased, trailing his tongue where my thigh creased. "What was that smile?" he asked, giving me a long, slow lick on the outside of my folds.

My eyes rolled back, and so did my head, at the same time I breathed, "The word pussy, baby. It sounds
 
so good
 the way you say it."

He moaned against my flesh—this time, slipping his tongue barely inside to swirl the tip of it around my clit. His hands slipped under my ass to lift me, to bring me closer.

              "That's because it's such a beautiful pussy, baby. There's more than one reason you’re
Honeyface,
” he crooned, with an open mouth kiss and a swirl around my entrance. "Now, open up for me, so I can see all of it, beautiful..."

"Oh fuck," I hissed, losing myself in the sensation of his mouth on me, his tongue
 
in
 me, his hands holding me open, his stubble rubbing against my skin 
just right
, and the amazing sounds that vibrated up my body as he hummed against me.

My climax started at my toes, causing a rolling wave to slither up my body, until I was grinding against his face and gripping the covers of the bed in two tight fists and I reclined back against his thighs. My stomach muscles clenched as he sucked me hard into his mouth and slid two fingers deep inside of me, my breath caught as my whole being shattered.

I shuddered in post-coital bliss as he gently rolled me over, settling between my legs and bracing his elbows on either side of my head. He brushed my hair from my face, dropping sweet, nipping kisses on the corner of my mouth, my chin, down my neck.

"Did that beat the dream, Honeyface?" he whispered against my collarbone.

I laughed weakly, nodding. "Yeah," I sighed, threading my fingers into his hair. "Most definitely."

I pulled him closer, and he came willingly, giving me most of his weight and a long, breathtaking kiss. He tasted like me and a touch of mint. His hips shifted forward, causing my breath to catch when his dick brushed against my oversensitive clit as he slid through my slick heat.

"God, Alyssa," he grunted, squeezing his eyes closed and pressing his forehead to mine. "Th-There was a part…. of me that thought... that was afraid of never…. having this again...of losing you."

"Shh." It was my turn to shush him softly, shaking my head, because the pure honesty that came through in his stumbling was sweet and scary and filled with a slight touch of sorrow. "I'm here.
 
We're
 here, Adrian. Make love to me, baby," I told him, gliding my hands over his strong shoulders and down his back, reveling in every sinewy muscle, finally reaching his ass and urging him to enter me. "Please..."

His mouth covered mine, kissing me with an almost frantic feel behind it, but his hand traveled with a sweet, loving touch down my side to my leg, which he hitched up higher around him. With one beautiful roll of his hips, he slipped into me, and we both moaned at the feel of that perfect connection, that feeling of fulfillment.

I couldn't imagine what Adrian had gone through when  I had been taken from him. Even though it might have been only seventy-two hours, I knew it must've taken all that he had to maintain his sanity. He loved me and protected me with every fiber of his being, even when I didn’t need it. His very first concern in the morning and his last thought of the day was me. Every job we took, he treated with utmost security. Even the food he cooked was done with me in mind— what I wanted, what I might like, and what was good for me. To have that snatched away—for even mere hours—must've killed him. 

With every kiss, every gasp, every gripping hand, we reassured ourselves that
we
were okay. That our little unit was safe, that we were still strong. The danger may not be over, but we would not make the same mistakes again. We would hold on stronger, fiercer, and with more determination to never let someone take what we had worked so hard to build.

We fell apart together, coming hard, but somewhat subdued, clinging to each other fiercely. Despite how we were covered in sweat, we didn't let go, but held each other close way into the night. We spoke softly about everything and anything, about how we were needed back at the farm the next day, about how Hunter had asked for our help. We both agreed that Zoe and Terry, and whoever the boss was should be stopped, because there was no telling what they would do next. Hunter helped me when he didn’t have to, and I swore I’d carry it out with them.

I yawned widely sometime just after two in the morning, mumbling about not wanting to stop talking, because I'd missed it. Adrian chuckled, kissing my forehead, and said, "Sleep, love. We'll pick up in the morning where we left off."

I buried myself in his neck, closing my eyes, and I knew no more.

"Are you sure you want to be in there for this shit?" Adrian asked, cupping my face as we stood just outside the barn.

I nodded, but in truth, I 
wasn't
 really sure. I knew what this type of interrogation would entail having done it myself in the past, but having been a victim of torture once before, I was a little nervous to watch, but the stronger part of me wanted to know what the men had to say. I knew that after going through it myself, I couldn’t inflict anything, but I was damned sure determined to hear it first hand.

I looked past Adrian to see all four prisoners handcuffed to chairs, while Dario and Victor stood with watchful eyes behind them. The injured man from the guard shack hadn't made it through the night despite all of Doc’s efforts to keep him alive. A table had been set up, and the only thing sitting on it was what looked like a black toolbox—or maybe a tackle box. Hunter and Liam were huddled together in deep conversation off to the side where the TNT had once been stored.

It had been safely removed by some of Hunter's men. Danny guarded one entrance to the barn, while Jeff had the other. Ross and Doc were sitting on a bale of hay, most likely waiting for me. She too had been adamant about sitting in. Doc argued the fact that they needed someone with medical ability, but the truth was, they took her son and friend… so she wanted to see whatever happened to them.

I rubbed my sweaty palms on the clean jeans that Adrian had been sweet enough to bring with him, showing he'd been more than hopeful when it came to rescuing me.

              I nodded up at him again. "Yeah...yes, I'm sure."

"Honeyface," he sighed, and groaned at the same time. "Dad and I...we aren't exactly...
kind
 when we do this shit."

"Nor should you be," I huffed, taking a deep breath and glaring up at him. "I get it, baby. I do, but I want to hear what they have to say."

Adrian studied my face, pulling me to him as he shook his head no. "I don't know," he said, his grimace hard to miss. "This is...torture, love... something you've..."

"Seen from
both
ends," I finished for him. I swallowed thickly, but met his handsome gaze. "I promise you, if it gets to be too much, I'll leave."

His nose wrinkled, as did his brow, but I saw the second he gave in. He pressed his lips hard to mine. "This isn't
 
me
 you're about to see, baby. Please, 
please
 keep that in mind," he pleaded against my mouth.

"Okay," I whispered back, stepping away from him.

I watched as he practically morphed in front of me, from my sweet, worried boyfriend, to a soldier without remorse. His face, his jaw, they became hard, rigid. His eyes took on a callous blackness, and his posture became straight, his shoulders broader. He shook his head one more time, before turning away from me.

I followed him in, realizing he wasn't dressed that much differently than yesterday, minus the mud and the face paint. Black cargo pants hugged him in all the right places, and every muscle of his upper body was enhanced by a tight gray t-shirt that was topped off with a shoulder harness containing his Glock. His boots thumped heavily across the barn floor. He wanted to look big, menacing. And from a glance around at every other member of the team, they did, too. They were there to scare information out of four men.

I took a seat on the bale of hay next to Ross, who was still trying to get Doc to change her mind, "This shit isn’t pretty, babe. Brace yourself."

I grimaced, looking over at her, because that was not going to work. Though I could see the reservation in her eyes, as long as she’d been with Gravity, as long as she’d known Bravo, she’d never seen them work a prisoner over, and now, there were four in front of us. Though, the main one that they wanted to interrogate was Myles, who was sitting with a smug smirk on his face as he lounged back in the chair he was handcuffed to.

I knew what they were worried about—my past experience— but this was different. This wasn't personally happening to me, and the information we could possibly receive might possibly be used to stop the ones that remained from whatever they had planned next.

I did scoot closer to them, but we both looked up when a loud scraping sound echoed through the barn. Adrian snatched up a long folding table, only to slam it down in front of all four men. Three of them jumped; Myles didn't. The first boy on the end was the guard from my cell that Dario and Adrian captured. He looked so young, so fucking nervous, that his shirt was completely drenched with sweat. The next two men couldn't decide who to keep their eyes on—a pacing Liam, a calm, casual Hunter, or Adrian, who was nonchalantly setting the toolbox down on the table at the end near the cell guard. Myles, on the other hand, knew who was out for him, so his eyes stayed locked on my guy, despite the belligerent smirk on his face.

No one had said a fucking word yet, and that was to let the prisoner’s imaginations run, because mental torture is just as effective.

Liam stepped forward, taking position on the opposite side of the table. He slowly, deliberately pulled on black leather gloves, almost making a show of it. A big key to group interrogations, pick out the weakest link, and that would be my guard from my cell.

Adrian opened the toolbox, pulling out four lengths of rope, setting each one directly in front of a prisoner as Victor and Dario stepped up behind the four men. Adrian braced his hands on the table directly across from my cell guard.

"I trust you slept well," he stated, using a low, but wry tone to his voice.

Ross snickered, and I leaned in to explain to Doc. "They didn't sleep at all. They were tied in a standing position all night, with their hands above their heads and their feet chained to the floor. If they even closed their eyes, someone would use a loud noise to wake them. It's the first tactic used to start to break down a prisoner."

Her eyebrows shot up as she listened to me, but kept her eyes on Liam and Adrian, the latter of whom pushed away from the pole he'd been leaning against.

"None of you were wearing identification, so give up your names," Hunter commanded in a no-nonsense tone. Things like this weren’t his strong suit when we were in Special Forces, he was never patient. It would be interesting to see if that differed.

"What's your name?" Liam asked the youngest man at the table when no one said anything, but it was the other men that reacted.

"Tell him nothing!" one hissed, trying to lean over to look.

"Keep your mouth shut," the other growled.

Liam stood up straight and gave Adrian a pointed look Adrian pushed himself away from the table, snatching up one length of rope, and grabbed one man, while Victor picked up the other. They were roughly removed from the table—chairs and all—leaving a space between my former guard and Myles. Adrian and Victor dragged their prisoners toward the exit, but paused long enough to stash one in a horse stall, before taking the other outside.

They made an obvious show of securing the mans chair with ropes, tossing the longer end over the well's pulley system. With two boots to the back of the man's chair, he fell with a splash into the water, and Vic secured a knot to the pole before he and Adrian walked away. The moment the first splashing sound filled my ears I was in my own memories.

“What are they doing?” Doc gasped looking to me.

The need to appear under control, made me snap out of it just as quickly as it started. "That's called
 
dipping
,” I told her in a hushed whisper. "The chair pulls him under, but the rope holds him up. If he struggles against the rope and unties it, then he sinks under. If he stays perfectly fucking still, then his head will stay above water. Most people panic, but if you stay calm, you can tread the water for as long as you need to.” I wanted to add—or until they notice that it isn’t working and find another way to torture you—but it wasn’t the right time.