by Tina Folsom
“Do you know how sexy you look just now?”
“I look like a drowned rat,” she claimed, laughing.
“A very sexy drowned rat,” he conceded and pressed her against the door, sinking his lips onto her hot mouth. Her lips parted immediately, allowing him to kiss her without restraint. Lust boiled up in him. Collecting all his remaining self control, he severed the kiss, breathing hard.
“We’d better get inside before we give your neighbors a show they’ll never forget.” He reached past her and inserted the key into the lock.
“You’re a bad influence,” Michelle said, but the sparkle in her eyes confirmed that she didn’t consider this to be a bad thing.
Nick pushed the door open and nudged her inside. He tossed the keys onto the side table and kicked the door shut, before setting his backpack down. Then he pressed her against the wall beside the bathroom door.
“Yeah, a really bad influence,” he mumbled and crushed her lips with his.
11
Her clothes were clinging to her, and Michelle knew she looked terrible, but it didn’t matter, because Nick made her feel beautiful. His mouth was hungry on hers, his hands eager to free her of her wet clothes, his pelvis rocking against her with an urgency and rhythm that left nothing to her imagination.
With trembling hands she tugged on his shirt, pushed it up, so she could slide her hands along his naked skin and caress him. He shuddered under her touch, sending a thrill through her at the knowledge that she could bring this man to his knees.
For a brief instant, Nick released her lips and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his muscled torso. Lust surged inside her, making liquid heat pool at her sex. Nick’s hands were on her dress then, unzipping it in the back and pushing the fabric down to her waist. Another shove and the dress slid past her hips and pooled around her feet.
Her nipples were hard peaks, exposed to his view now because she didn’t wear a bra. His eyes turned molten when he stared at her, his hands already reaching for her breasts, touching them, his knuckles sliding over her damp skin, making her shiver all over.
“Fuck, baby!”
Then his mouth was back on hers, his hands kneading her breasts, teasing her nipples, while farther below, he rubbed his erection against her center. But there was still too much fabric between them. She wanted all those barriers gone. She needed a skin-on-skin contact, needed to feel him as close as was humanly possible.
She pushed against him, made him step back a little so she could reach the button of his pants. She flipped it open then went for the zipper.
“Damn it, Michelle,” he cursed when she pushed his pants and boxer briefs down to his thighs and freed his eager shaft. “I’m not gonna last.”
“I don’t care.”
She pushed his pants down to his ankles and followed in the same direction, until her head was level with his cock. God, he was beautiful. Pumped full with blood, thick veins snaking up its sides, his hard-on demanded all her attention. Eagerly, she wrapped her hand around the root, gripping him firmly so he couldn’t escape.
Nick groaned. She looked up and saw him bracing himself against the wall behind her with both hands, his eyes pinning her.
“If you’re gonna do that,” he said hoarsely, “then do it quickly while I still have an ounce of control left.”
By the looks of his straining neck muscles, it wouldn’t be long until he lost that self control. Already now Nick seemed like putty in her hands—rock-hard putty. And she rather liked that feeling. In fact, loved the power it gave her. The power to make a man surrender.
“Mmm.” Michelle licked her tongue over the purple head of his glorious shaft and gathered up the moisture that had collected there. The salty taste spread in her mouth, making her hungry for more.
Nick let out a shuddering breath, while his hips jerked toward her. “I need… I need to…”
She knew what he needed and gave it to him. Her lips wrapped around the tip of his erection. Slowly, with her tongue along the underside of his cock, she descended on him, taking him as deep into her mouth as she could.
A loud moan bounced off the walls of her small hallway.
Gently, Michelle let his cock withdraw from her, before sliding down on him again. Her hand remained at his root, guiding him in and out. With every descent and every withdrawal she increased the speed and pressure. Nick’s hips flexed in the opposite direction to hers, his cock thrusting into her mouth as she sucked him deeper.
“Fuck! Michelle!” he cried out, throwing his head back. “You’ve gotta stop.”
But despite his impassioned plea, Nick continued moving his hips back and forth, fucking her mouth frantically. Eagerly, she licked and sucked him, moved her hand up and down the long stalk, ready to take what he was willing to give her, when he suddenly pulled back.
Her gaze shot up to him and she saw him breathe heavily. “I need a condom. Now!” He reached for her, pulled her up. “Do you have any?”
She motioned to the bathroom door. Before he could move—impeded by the pants around his ankles—she was already in the bathroom, rummaging through a drawer. When she turned around, condom in hand, he was behind her, fully naked now, stalking toward her.
He took the condom from her hand, ripped the package open with his teeth and rolled the latex over his cock, closing his eyes briefly and clenching his jaw as he did so. Then he pinned her with his eyes.
“Turn around,” he ordered gruffly, motioning to the sink.
Without protesting, she pivoted. His hands were on her an instant later, bending her over the bathroom countertop.
Michelle lifted her head and watched in the mirror, how his passion-clouded eyes roamed over her backside. With a harsh exhale, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her thong and pulled it down to her thighs.
Then their eyes met in the mirror.
She felt the tip of his cock at her wet entrance, nudging her nether lips apart. His jaw tightened a moment before he plunged into her, seating himself balls-deep.
Michelle shuddered under the impact, but Nick’s hands on her hips were holding her so tightly that she wouldn’t slam into the counter despite his forceful move.
“See what you do to me?” he murmured and withdrew, only to thrust back into her with even more force.
“I thought you liked it,” she teased, loving the knowledge that she was driving him wild. She liked this side of him, just as much as she liked his quiet, boy-next-door side.
“I love it,” he confessed, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Too much, in fact. Now you’re gonna pay the price, baby.”
It was a price she had no trouble paying. She loved the way he took her, like a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t take no for an answer. Like a man who was used to his orders being followed. His gruff command to turn around hadn’t turned her off in the least. On the contrary, it aroused her. To be dominated like this turned her on, made her wild, and awakened something primal in her, something entirely female.
“Yes, take me!” she cried out, not caring if that made her sound desperate or submissive. All she wanted was to be taken by him, to feel him pound into her with his cock until neither of them could move any longer.
“Yeah, I’ll take you,” he promised, bringing one hand around her hip to slide it to her front.
A wet finger on her clit made her gasp with pleasure. His hot breath at her ear, whispering to her made her close her eyes in anticipation.
“I’ll fuck you until you come, and then I’ll do it again, and again, and again. Is that what you want, Michelle, me taking you like this?”
“Yes,” she choked out on a shallow breath. “Oh God, yes!”
She lost her ability to form a coherent thought after that. All she felt was Nick’s cock sliding into her from behind, while his fingers strummed her clit as if it were a string instrument he wanted to tease a sound from.
When that sound finally came, it was a relieved outcry bursting from her lips, while her body s
huddered under the power of her orgasm. Just before she collapsed, she felt Nick’s cock spasm inside her, a loud moan accompanying his climax.
~ ~ ~
It always started with somebody handing him a tall glass of iced tea. It was no different this time. The hand, wrapped around the inviting beverage, came into view, though the person it belonged to never did.
Nick tried to force his head to turn this time, but his body didn’t obey him. He only saw the cool liquid he so desperately needed and reached for it.
Don’t drink it! he tried to scream to himself. But no sound came over his lips.
Instead, he lifted the glass to his lips and gulped down the ice-cold tea until only ice cubes were left. For a moment he closed his eyes, enjoying the cooling effect the drink had, but it was only temporary.
He knew where he was, and yet he didn’t. The terrace of a large house. A garden beyond. Then the shore. Waves splashing against the narrow strip of sandy beach. An ocean maybe? Or a lake? A large one.
He gazed out onto it, following the ripples on its surface.
Only five sailboats were on the water despite the sunshine and the ample wind that filled their sails and propelled them forward. Why only five when the entire lake should be brimming with activity? When the houses to the left and right all had boat docks, and yachts waiting to be taken out onto the water. To be played with.
Did they know like Nick knew? Did they too sense the impending doom? Had they fled already, knowing it was too late to change the outcome?
“Please don’t do this,” Nick begged.
From behind him, a voice replied, “It’s done.”
But he couldn’t accept that. He had to do what needed to be done.
His laptop sat on the wooden table, several windows open. Green computer code scrolled in one black window so fast, it looked as if it were raining numbers and letters.
His eyes blurred, and he tried to focus them, tried to make sense of it all. But his gaze drifted to the other window, the one that showed a video feed of a large concrete building. The angle was so narrow that he couldn’t make out where the building was located. It could have been in the middle of a city or right in a desert, and Nick wouldn’t have known.
In a third window, a clock was counting backward.
Abort. His lips formed the word automatically. He had to stop it. Save what was there to be saved.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the white sails whizz by him. He spun his head in their direction and saw them fight against the increasing wind. But he knew if he didn’t stop the countdown, they would have to fight against something even stronger than the wind. And they would lose.
“Abort,” he whispered and lifted his hands to the keyboard, noticing all of a sudden how heavy they were, as if filled with lead. Like bricks, they landed on the keys, creating a row of gibberish among the scrolling code.
He willed his pinky to press the escape button to clear his typing, but his finger didn’t move, didn’t execute his brain’s order.
Do it, damn it! Nick wanted to scream, but his tongue felt thick and sluggish.
He stared at his hands, barely able to focus on them now. They looked frozen in place, paralyzed.
His heart began to race. Again and again he tried to move his fingers but failed. Failed not only himself, but his fellow Stargate agents, and his country.
Nick held his breath like he always did. But no matter how often he’d seen this vision play out, he never looked away, always hoping against all hope that this time the outcome would be different. It wasn’t.
The explosion on the screen was of massive proportions. The shockwave reached the water moments later, blasting the boats off their course and into the air, crushing them as if they were made of matchsticks. Bits of sail cloth flew like tiny birds in the churning air.
But by that time the shockwave had reached Nick, too, and he was flung in the air and catapulted toward the wall. For a split second before he hit it, he saw the house he’d been in: a mansion, though it wasn’t his.
“Nooooo!”
His own scream pulled him from the vision. Bathed in sweat, he reared up. There was darkness all around him. He was in bed. Next to him, somebody moved.
“Nick?” It was the panicked voice of a woman.
Breathing hard, he tried to concentrate, tried to remember where he was. It took him three seconds to find his bearings.
“I’m fine,” he said, already dragging his legs out of bed to sit up at the edge. “Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, Michelle.”
He felt her hand on his back and instinctively jerked away.
“But, you’re—”
“I’m fine.” He jumped up. “I’ll take a shower if you don’t mind, then I’ll go.”
Before Michelle could voice a protest, he left her bedroom and closed the door behind him. Outside in the hallway, he ran a shaky hand through his damp hair and tried to calm his pounding heart.
The vision, unlike all his other premonitions, came only during sleep and was becoming more frequent, as if to show him that the event he was seeing was coming closer. Yet he was no closer to averting it than he’d been three years ago when he’d first had this premonition after the murder of the founder of the top secret Stargate program.
He was running out of time.
12
Michelle stared at the closed bedroom door Nick had just disappeared through. She leaned over to her bedside table and switched on the lamp. Soft light illuminated the otherwise dark room. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was just after five in the morning.
Her heart still raced. She’d been sound asleep when Nick’s scream had woken her. It had sounded as if he’d been in mortal danger and for an instant she’d wondered if somebody had broken into her apartment. But it was clear now that Nick had had a nightmare.
But why? What grown man had nightmares? It was the stuff kids dealt with, when they dreamed about monsters. Or maybe people who’d gone through some recent trauma. But Nick struck her as thoroughly balanced. But what if he wasn’t? Had she made an error in judgment? What was wrong with the stranger she’d invited into her bed?
Heart beating in her throat, Michelle jumped out of bed and slipped on a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. When she entered the hallway, she heard the shower running. She flipped the light switch in the hallway. Careful not to make a sound, she looked around and quickly found what she was looking for.
Nick had dumped his backpack underneath the side table. Darting a look back to the closed bathroom door, Michelle crouched down and opened the zipper. She peered inside. One compartment held his laptop. She didn’t pull it out, but instead looked through the rest.
There wasn’t much: a set of keys, a cell phone with a charger, and a power cable for the laptop. She was about to close the bag again, when she felt a bulge. She opened the zipper as wide as she could, but there was nothing to see. However, there was clearly something there. She let her fingers do the searching, until she finally found a hidden zipper.
Glancing back at the bathroom door to assure herself that Nick was still in there, she took a deep breath and unzipped the hidden compartment. Holding her breath, she reached her hand inside.
Her fingers connected with something cold. She ran them along the metal item and felt its outline. Her heart stopped as her hand wrapped around the handle of a weapon. Slowly, carefully, she pulled it out. A handgun. She wasn’t an expert, but she could tell it was a pistol with a magazine.
Her hand shook. The trembling spread to her entire body.
Fuck! What was Nick doing with a gun?
Fear suddenly gripping her, she shoved it back into the compartment and zipped it up again, then closed the backpack and placed it back where she’d found it.
Looking around, she tried to think what to do. Was Nick dangerous? Was he a criminal? Who the hell was he? Her eyes darted around and she looked back into her bedroom. There, over the back of a chair hung Nick’s pants. He hadn’t taken them into the
bathroom with him.
She dashed into the bedroom and took the pants off the chair, searching the pockets. She pulled out his wallet. Casting a nervous look over her shoulder, she opened his wallet and examined the contents. Cash. A driver’s license. She pulled it out, read it. The name was Nicholas Young, the address was in Washington D.C. It had been issued two years earlier. Hadn’t he said that he’d only just moved to Washington? How could he have a driver’s license that was already two years old?
She looked through the remaining compartments of the wallet and felt something rigid. She dug her fingers into it and pulled out the item: a credit card. Her breath caught in her throat. Last night, he’d paid cash, claiming that his credit card had been stolen and he hadn’t received a replacement card yet. Why would he say that, when clearly he had one? Was it an old one that had expired? She looked at the expiration date. No, it was still valid. Then her eyes darted to the left of it, where his name was embossed.
She slapped her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. The name didn’t match his driver’s license. Marcus Tremont it said there.
Shit!
Shaking now, she shoved the wallet back into his pants pocket and ran into the living room. She pulled her computer from her bag and switched it on. While it booted up, she drummed her fingers on her thighs, continuously darting nervous looks back to the hallway. But the water in the shower kept running.
The moment her computer was on, she unlocked the screen with her password and pulled up a browser. She first searched for Nicholas Young. There were too many hits. The name was too common. Even an actor and a baseball star were among the search result. She would need time to go through them all.
Damn!
She typed in Marcus Tremont instead. There was only one Marcus Tremont. She clicked on the Facebook link. The profile picture was blank and there were no posts in his timeline, none she could see without being his friend anyway.
Who was Nick? And why was he here?
The answer hit her in the face like a closing door. Smith! Her Deep-Throat-like handler had to be behind it. Had he sensed that she was getting desperate to make a run for it? Did he already realize that she was preparing for her escape and wanted to make sure she didn’t get away before she’d delivered what he wanted?