DARC Ops: The Complete Series

by Jamie Garrett

  Eye contact, a familiar expression. A timeless one, no matter how many years had stood in the way. It felt like they’d never left each other, like he’d never hopped on a plane and traveled around the world, like no tragedy had recently struck Fiona’s life. Like everything in the world was okay, and they were still two young, horny students with no obligations or attached strings. And now they had returned to their favorite field of study.

  She was the first to slide in her tongue, tasting his mouth wildly, groaning into him while two of his fingers slowly entered her again, stretching, curling, her hand over her pants guiding his deeper, imploring, needing.

  Through the heat of it all, she couldn’t help but think, and remember. She couldn’t help but realize, for the first time, that their last fling so many years ago marked the happiest time in her life. A time when she felt so free, so full of potential, and so desired. She’d had boyfriends in the time since, but nothing to compare to the double edge of their professional and sexual connection. And no breakup had affected her so deeply, if it could have even been called that. But what could she call this? Was this a second chance? A redo?

  She wondered, as Jasper delivered waves of pleasure, which rippled through her body, how this second chance would play out. What would she do differently? And how would he respond?

  For now, he was busy sending her body into convulsions of pleasure. One hand in her panties, the other having already crept up her shirt and wrapped around her breasts. He was busy setting out to do exactly what he’d prescribed for her, the exact treatment her body—and mind—had needed. It began with her increased breathing, a desperate panting, succumbing to the growing forces he’d stirred up inside her with the masterful strokes of his fingers. An expert’s touch. Someone who understood not only human anatomy, but the uniqueness of Fiona’s body. A personalized care regimen. A dose of “me time” administered by her personal Dr. Feelgood. The drugs: dopamine, serotonin. The mode of delivery: Jasper effortlessly finding her G-spot and turning on that part of her body that delivered the most powerful and explosive kind of orgasm. And doing it in just a way that only he knew about. He’d taught her before, to relax and let it happen. How he could almost feel it swelling under his fingertips, and the way her body would tremble at the very beginning of the almost scary out-of-control experience.

  And he was teaching her today.

  “Can you feel it?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, eyes rolling into the back of her head, head slumped back onto his shoulder as if she’d lost her neck muscles.

  She indeed felt it, a warm vibratory pulse emanating from her core. His fingers, with a steady pressure, curling, nudging her closer and closer to coming. And then the electric tingle in her fingers and toes, and at the same time her brain numbing and shutting off. Consciousness fading away to an egoless, Zenlike existence. She was not a nurse or a person, or a mind, but a body. His body, to be manipulated like a machine, a warm and fleshy piece of equipment designed and used for one purpose: to orgasm as hard and often as possible. That’s all it was, a ball of energy waiting to be released, and to be released at Jasper’s will. On his time. When he wanted it to happen.

  Her nipple rolled in his fingers. Her moaning. His mouth back onto hers, covering up her sounds, covering her, swallowing up her existence. It was okay to be owned this way by him. He made it feel safe and right, like she’d needed this all along and there was no other choice, no other life but to be used, her body to be played like an instrument, like a tool with no other purpose but to release the best fucking feeling in the world.

  “Come on, Baby,” Jasper said. “Just let go.”

  With his soothing yet dominating tone, he was coaching and pleading with her. It was fucking crazy what he was doing to her, how he was so easily devastating her mind with the sweetest agony she’d ever known.

  “There you go,” he said when her thighs started twitching harder. “Good girl.”

  Yes. She was his good girl. A brain-dead, sex-crazed piece of pleasure center. And right now it had been activated and dialed up higher and higher, the electricity burning new pathways into her brain, new rewards and memories being implanted that her physiology would never forget, Jasper so sweetly ruining sex with any other guy. But they weren’t even having sex yet. Goddamn. She couldn’t believe it, this was still just foreplay and yet, the feelings...

  She was moaning.

  She didn’t even realize it, how loudly it was coming out now. Jasper took his hand away from her breast and pressed it lightly to her lips. “Shhhh.” His other hand never stopped moving, building the feelings, the excited shakiness of it all to build up to an insurmountable level.

  She could feel it more vividly now, climbing to the top and cresting some giant mountain. She wasn’t in a hospital bed, or a room or even a hospital at all. She existed now as a gleaming particle of light atop the apex of what she’d been climbing for the last several minutes. And it scared her, the height of it, her proximity to the sun and its burning glare singing at her nerve endings. Blinding her. Sending her into a fit, the sweetest seizure, and the feeling of a dam ready to explode.

  Through the heat and the glaring light she barely noticed how Jasper had pulled her pants down around her ankles, how her knees stretched wider, almost as if making room for him to go deeper. Everything was spiraling into some type of giant explosion. And Jasper wanted it, coaching and begging her to trust him and to let go and to come as hard as she could. God, she just wanted to come so hard for him, squeezing and pulsing around his three curled fingers, gripping them with her violent, uncontrollable orgasm. The internal quivering built up to a detonation, a release not unlike a nuclear explosion, an underwater detonation which ignited a tsunami, its power cresting high and exploding as Fiona bit her tongue to silence her screams as pleasure erupted.

  21

  Jasper

  Her face was red and she was laughing. She had just gotten away with a naughty indulgence, a sexcapade in the workplace, a surprise earth-shattering orgasm in the middle of an otherwise stressful workday. She seemed also in shock, her eyes locked into a distant stare while she filled silence with laughter. And a question. “What the fuck?”

  Jasper held her head with both hands and laid a solid kiss on her lips. She felt so warm, the heat coming off her face like a cast iron skillet.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, struggling to catch her breath, and then laughing again. “I made a mess, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you did good.”

  “Did good?” She arched her eyebrows and waited. But all Jasper could do was smile.

  “You’re the one who did good,” she said. “Jesus Christ, what was that?”

  “You, um . . . orgasmed.”

  “Yeah I know, but . . .” She turned away from his glance, laughing quietly. “Jesus Christ . . .”

  “I know,” he said, grinning again.

  “Shut up,” she giggled, shoving his arm, the arm that reached back and grabbed hers.

  He pulled her in and kissed, his tongue snaking inside her mouth before pulling away. “God, you were so hot.”

  “I hope you liked that as much as I did.”

  “I did. Maybe more.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “I loved watching you,” he said, silencing her with a kiss on the lips.

  “You’re gonna make me want more, you keep that up.”

  “Keep what up?” he asked.

  She smiled and looked at his crotch.

  Yes, he’d been keeping that up. It felt like he’d been that way ever since his unhappily ended bed bath so many hours ago. The thought of it, and of her, and of his delayed reward had kept him stiff and throbbing all day, and especially during their latest adventure, had him having to fight the urge to remove his fingers from her and replace them with something else.

  The sudden feeling of Fiona’s hand groping over his pants pulled him away from his latest fantasy. He looked at her face,
which was no longer smiling, but blank with concentration and hunger. And then his eyes moved down to her hand, to where she was holding his cock through the thick fabric of his pants. Too thick, the contact too slight. He wanted skin on skin. He needed it.

  Just as Fiona was about to unfasten his belt, the sound of someone opening the door froze them in place. The only thing on his mind at that point—a sudden departure from his cock and what Fiona was doing with it—was how thankful he was for the closed curtain that surrounded their bed. But how long would it stay closed?

  Jasper huddled against her, the two of them clinging to each other in silence, waiting.

  Did he have enough time to slip under the covers? And to do it quietly? They could revert back to their nurse–patient relationship, the flush-faced, post-orgasmic nurse tending to the bedridden Jasper and serving his needs. Maybe she could give him another bed bath. Maybe then it wouldn’t be all a show.

  When Jasper made a move, Fiona grabbed his arm, her eyes widening.

  Don’t. Move.

  So he listened for what noise would come next, for the footsteps, for the curtain. But all he heard was the murmuring of voices in the hall, and then someone at the door saying something, and then the door—thank God—closing.

  Fiona drew in a deep breath of relief, her shoulders slumping into him. And then she sprang into action, not returning to his crotch, but standing and yanking on his arm. It was the wrong member, but perhaps the responsible choice. And so he followed her, standing, fixing his clothing. She peeled back the curtains and together, without a word, rushed them toward the bathroom. Sanctuary.

  “Stay here,” she said, grabbing a towel from the rack. “And stay quiet.” She left the bathroom with a towel and spray bottle of cleaning solution.

  Jasper shut the door and waited. It wasn’t normal for him to be taking orders, but he liked it when they came from Fiona. And it was somewhat exciting to surrender control to her. It was, after all, her home turf. Behind the safety of the shut door, he sat on the closed lid of the toilet, waiting, and then listening hard when he heard someone enter the room. A woman’s voice. A quiet conversation with Fiona.

  A moment later, the bathroom door opened to the beautiful sight of Fiona’s smile. She slipped in and closed the door behind her. Jasper had his hands on her body before she could even turn around to face him, his hips pressing up against her ass, his arms wrapping around and meeting her hands at her chest, hands holding hands, the taste of her neck in his mouth, his tongue gliding along it and stirring from her a gentle moan. It didn’t take long for them to find themselves in familiar, naughty territory, their traveling taboo thrill circus now having relocated to the bathroom.

  “Bad boy,” Fiona said, her ass grinding into his erection as her hands fumbled to lock the door.

  The door lock slid over with the quiet, satisfying thunk, signaling that they were finally safe to do their dirty deeds without further interruption—or so Jasper hoped. It was almost comical how many times he’d been driven to the edge and back. Almost. He’d been denied so many times that he now felt even less in control than normal, being more and more at the mercy of his animalistic need to plunge and destroy himself inside Fiona.

  He wanted that now, more than anything. There was no mission, no quest to save the prince, no DARC Ops mandate. Only his one, true mission, which had finally begun with Fiona pressed up against the sink, her elbows resting on the porcelain corners, hands folded over each other across the sink, her head slumping down and resting on her arm, her legs spreading a little as Jasper grabbed hold of her pants and panties and ripped them down with savage urgency. And immediately, as her bare and smooth ass became exposed and available and beckoning so sweetly to him, he felt her invisible drug, the pheromones compelling him to act upon the urge he’d felt was so desperately necessary. And for such a long time coming, from earlier that day, and from years earlier, a reuniting of old lovers. A tight, slippery entry into the heat of her body.

  Her quiet whimper, the tightening of her body, the way her muscles contracted madly around him as he entered, as he worked deeper and deeper, rocking harder against the plush ass of his sexy personal nurse with each stroke, his personalized caregiver finally letting him take control of the regimen. And take control he did, mercilessly. Clearly audible in the small bathroom was the sound of their hard breathing, her gently whispered “Oh God,” the quiet slapping sound of their bodies coming together, his into hers, his groaning into her ear as he hunched over her, as one hand took hold of her hair, firmly guiding her hips back against him.

  Fiona kept talking, guiding him to just where and how she wanted it, her voice becoming more strained and unrecognizable until she dropped talking altogether to instead use her body. They communicated like that, their body language steering each to their unified goal as the paltry, insignificant semblances of time and placed melted away into a white-hot rush of feeling.

  After the smoke cleared, they took a few minutes to collect themselves, although in the back of Jasper’s mind, he knew he was running on borrowed time. He also knew that this little indulgence, this vacation, this reunion, was just the very crest of the hill, the beginning of the slipperiest of slopes. And he was happy about it. Foolishly happy to gain momentum, to lose control with someone he’d so naturally and effortlessly trusted.

  “Why do we always fuck in the weirdest spots?”

  Jasper laughed at her, unprepared for her sudden levity. Until then, they’d remained silent, almost solemn at the near-religious experience they’d just conjured together. He was on the closed lid of the toilet, her sitting in his lap, her body wrapped in his arms, their heat almost unbearable. But to not touch, to break contact, would be unimaginable.

  His phone rang.

  He didn’t move.

  “Goddamn real life,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Pretty soon I’ll be getting calls too. They’re probably already looking for me.”

  “Am I getting you in trouble?”

  “Yes,” she said, spinning around in his lap, straddling to face him, to kiss him. “Big bad trouble.”

  He kissed her back, loving the taste and wanting more.

  But she pulled back.

  “Fine,” he said. “But I know what you’re doing after work.”

  “You?” she said with a smile. But it quickly disappeared.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just remembering how many shitty things I have to deal with until then.”

  It was the most stressed out he’d ever seen her. Aside from their brief moments of escapism, or when he could manage a laugh out of her, or at least a smile, she seemed to revert back to an unmistakable heaviness.

  “Hey,” he said. “You’ll do fine.”

  She stood, stripped herself free of him. For Jasper, it felt utterly foreign.

  “I’ve got your back,” he said.

  She was stretching, like an athlete preparing for the start of something. “I know. I loved it.”

  Jasper laughed. “I meant it like the figure of speech.”

  She smiled. “I know.”

  His phone rang again. Real life rushing back.

  “I better get down to the lab,” she said, straightening herself up while looking in the mirror. “You’ll answer it when I call, right?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re in trouble.” She smiled at herself.

  “Me too.”

  22

  Fiona

  She crept into the pathology lab and was enveloped by a mechanized hum. A newly acquired machine was running, the automated blood analyzer, moving vials of blood around the room in a big oval track. Machines worked on the vials at ten-foot intervals, labeling, reading, testing. All the jobs that were once done by humans. She knew one of those humans, and hoped he’d still be around.

  Fiona tried to mask her uncertainty by fixing her gaze to a single corner of the room, and then walking there, with purpose. Or at
least a seeming purpose. But it was really more of a hunch, a shot in the dark, that her friend would be among one of the turned white-coated backs, and that one of those heads would turn around to present a familiar face.

  But someone else got to her midway.

  “Can I help you?”

  It wasn’t her friend’s voice.

  Fiona stopped and looked him over. The first thing she noticed was his large upper lip. And his head was . . . too big. “Maybe?”

  Her friend also didn’t have a slight Russian accent.

  “You just seem kinda lost,” he said. He was smiling like he had nothing better to do. “We don’t get many nurses down here, so . . .”

  “Right. I was just looking for someone. Do you know Tom?”

  “Well, I know a lot of—”

  “Tom Shields.”

  “I knew Tom,” he said. “He’s not here anymore.”

  “He quit?”

  “He was . . . laid off, as they say.”

  It was hard to believe that he wouldn’t have talked to her about it, or at least have said bye to her. They weren’t close, but close enough. She looked over to a long line of vials being pushed down the track by mechanical hands.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” the man asked.

  “I just came to check on a sample . . . And to see Tom. When was he laid off?”

  He shrugged. “Last week? I’m Vic, by the way.” He held out his hand, which she slowly accepted as her mind struggled with the information. “What sample were you looking for?” he asked.

  She unrolled the small piece of paper from her pocket and read off the ten-digit alphanumeric code.

  “Well, let’s see where we’re at,” he said, walking to the analyzer track. He lowered his head to read a small digital display at one of the label readers. And then he pulled back with a “Hmm . . .”