Thank God, no one had come in. Now she knew why he had closed the blinds and locked the door. It was one saving grace, but she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to stand up again. She felt exhausted yet relaxed as though he’d spanked out all the angry tension in her body. It niggled her and she became determined not to let him get under her skin like that again. But there was something else worrying and confusing her.
It was the heavy wetness licking at the top of the insides of her thighs that she hadn’t even noticed until he’d finished stroking her bottom with his firm hand. She couldn’t be aroused by this? Really? She wasn’t one of those women who allowed a man to dominate her like bloody Fifty Shades of Grey. No way. Although a small voice in the back of her mind told her she was a damn liar because this was exactly how she had felt when she’d watched the vision of them together. It made her shuffle on top of Mark’s knee and then regret it knowing he would probably feel how wet she was. Good job he couldn’t feel the aching throb inside her vagina desperately wanting to be penetrated so she could be soothed.
Her thoughts stopped suddenly when she felt him rest the back of his hand against one cheek, no doubt checking just how hot he’d made her bottom. Anger twisted inside her once more, but she didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. She would get him back for this when the time was right. Now to get out of this embarrassing situation and recover her composure. She tried to sit up.
“No. No. Not yet, little one.”
Did he really just call me, little one?
He was trailing the tips of his fingers around in a circle over her bottom. The energy from his touch shimmered through her pink flesh down to the fiery backs of her thighs making a fresh swell of juice flood her pussy. Try as she might to stop her desire escalating, she couldn’t. He held her fast over his knee and no matter how she continued to tell herself it was humiliating to be held in his power, somewhere inside begged her to let go and allow him to take control. But wasn’t this what she had always done for an easier life? Hadn’t she done this with her mother and her ex-husband? But this felt different. Still she couldn’t make the same mistake again. She struggled once more.
Mark tightened the grip on her wrist on the arm he held behind her back.
“Relax, Helena. I am not here to hurt you. I am here to take care of you.”
His voice was so soft, smooth and placating. It caressed her battered senses like crushed velvet. He was stealing inside her, breaking down every defence. She sensed the brush of his lips on her bottom and broke down in a fresh batch of tears.
He cupped the middle of her bottom and rubbed his hand up and back.
“There, there. It’s all over. I will take care of you now. Cry it all out. You are safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again,” he cooed in a gentle paternal voice.
She’d never known her father and her mother would never divulge any information about him just to hurt and punish her. This man wasn’t her father but all she wanted to do was to curl up inside the circle of his arms like a child and cling to him as though he were. Just as she had done in her vision.
She barely noticed that Mark’s hand had shifted position and his fingers were between her thighs, sinking into the heavy wetness until she detected their expert stroke up and down her pussy, circling her clit with the pad of his thumb to stoke the aching fire inside her higher. She couldn’t help but moan. Helena closed her eyes, angry at herself and confused by her conflicting feelings.
“We are very wet here, aren’t we? I expect you are throbbing as well. Let’s see if I can take the pain away, little one,” he said bending to kiss one cheek again.
She winced knowing he would be able to see right between her legs and see, never mind just feel, how slick she was. Yet she prayed he wouldn’t stop stroking her.
Her passion was rising making her bite at her lip to try and control it and deny him the satisfaction of seeing her lose it. But it was a battle. Her body lifted and rose with unbridled satisfaction when without warning, he slipped his middle finger up inside her channel. Her cry was one of relief she had been penetrated. But she wanted him to go higher, to ride her hard and force her to submit to him, the ruler of the pleasure she fought so hard to resist.
Helena became lost. Every defence crushed, she found herself sinking into a soft cushioned world of melting desire. She closed her eyes, blocking out the room. She hadn’t felt the touch of a man for so long and Mark Fox’s was expert. She shivered, overwhelmed and ready to climax. But every time she came close, he pulled back, withdrawing his fingers until she thought she might whimper and beg for him to return them, loving the caress of his fingers along the smooth wet muscles lining her vagina towards her G-spot. She wondered just how much more she could take. Her arm connecting her balance to the floor was shaking, threatening to give way. She might fall but somehow, she knew this man wouldn’t let her. She was safe.
“Surrender to me,” he whispered. “Follow my direction. Enjoy the build-up. I will give you permission to climax when I believe you are truly ready.” The command was light, but it lost none of its potency and it thrilled her to the core. She moved her body back and forth on top of his finger he had now joined with a second. Helena loved the wider girth, briefly wishing his cock was roughly ramming inside her and making her forget everything.
“Good girl.”
She loved it when he said that. She wanted to please him, make him proud of her just like a father would be. Is this what she wanted from him? Only time would tell. It was strange, alien, but how she wanted it. She let out a sob, feeling some far off need she never knew she’d missed cry out for satisfaction.
Mark was moving his fingers harder inside her and now he was slipping a third inside her. There was a little discomfort at first and then her tight unaired muscles inside her pussy relaxed and capitulated. She was bucking up and down on his knee like a harlot, thrusting her wet pussy down onto his tuxedo trousers. If anyone came in now…
“I think you are ready now,” Mark said with a trace of humour. She could almost feel his smile of triumph. It made her struggle and try to rear but the hard, direct thrust of his fingers inside her to the hilt put her firmly back in her place. She fell limp on his knee again trying to catch her breath when he increased his stroke of the rough front wall of her vagina.
“Naughty girl.” There was that paternal voice she craved again. “Now, I want you to come quickly,” he commanded. “Let’s release some more of that nasty tension and anger you’ve been carrying around for too long.”
Helena’s panting became erratic. She didn’t know where to put herself. The pleasure was intense unlike any other she had experienced with a man before. She was completely at his command and her orgasm was spiralling high. With a strangled gasp of surprise, the inside of her body fell into a spasm and contracted with delight. Warm melting cream pooled inside and flowed between the lips of her pussy as Mark continued his captivating assault. It felt like it would never end. Even as her orgasm started to fade, Mark maintained his stroke bringing forth a little more until every last drop of pleasure was extracted and her muscles ceased their pleasurable twitching movement.
Chapter 6
Mark helped Helena to stand up from his knee. She felt shame burn her cheeks and adrenaline from fear course through her veins when she heard people entering the outer office. Her skirt was still around her waist and her panties below her burning thighs. She rushed to correct her attire, but Mark was pulling her hands away.
“Here, let me,” he said gently pulling her arms away to her sides. Her Protection Officer seductively pulled her panties up like she was a little girl and smoothed her skirt down over her hips. Someone was knocking on her door and twisting the handle trying to get in making Helena’s eyes widen as she viewed Mark’s glistening fingers. She rushed to unlock it. He grinned as the door began to open, slipping his fingers inside his mouth to suck them clean. She stared.
“Nice taste,” he whispered, grinning as the door opened and L
ennox walked in.
Helena couldn’t believe what had just happened. Her bottom was pulsing with heat against her skirt and she wondered how comfortable it was going to be to sit down. She thought about complaining to Lennox, but she wasn’t exactly innocent in the whole matter. The bastard had her trapped and he knew it. She narrowed her eyes at him as Lennox was stopped in the doorway, before entering the room, by someone giving him a message. Helena leaned towards Mark to issue a warning.
“Don’t make the mistake of getting in my way, Mr. Fox. I am not as easy as you think to deal with, and I will have you thrown out of here so fast it will make your head spin.”
“It’s Lord Fox actually. I don’t often use my title in my work,” he said in a low humorous voice. “But you can call me, Mark, ma’am. And I will say it again, I am going nowhere. Get used to it,” he whispered in her ear, having the last word as Lennox walked into the room.
Lennox looked them both up and down, a light frown creasing his brow.
“Everything all right here?” he asked.
“Yes,” Mark answered first. “I believe we have now come to an understanding.”
Helena deepened the narrowing of her eyes into sharp points. Lennox didn’t look fully convinced.
“Yes, we have,” Helena told Lennox through gritted teeth. “What’s happened?” She was eager to change the subject and clearly some news had come in by the bustle of activity around them.
“We’ve had some luck. We acted on the information you found for us earlier from that witness we brought in involved with the arms dealer supplying Rann and Pura with weapons and bomb equipment. We found a small group of followers making suicide vests in a flat in Whitechapel just like you said. They were the contacts for the London arms dealer. There were enough weapons and Semtex to supply an army. It was a lucky break. The kidnapped Muslim woman you mentioned was found tied up there as well. She has been tortured and starved. She says that the Pura leader has brainwashed her teenage son, who’s barely turned eighteen and has been having sex with him. They were planning to kill her after she refused to succumb to their beliefs.”
“So much for Rann’s need for male and female relationships in his new race for the future,” Helena commented folding her arms. “The man’s beliefs sit in devising a simpler life. He wants to take us back to just working the land in communes with 16th and 17th century values. His mission is to wipe out technology, financial institutions and anything he considers corrupt and of the modern world. He wants to bring governments down and change the whole order of the world. It seems he can’t live up to his own ideals.”
“I want you to see what you can get from her,” Lennox ordered. She is desperate to find her son and has been there for a few days. She might have seen something. See if you can find a lead on the son. Wherever he is, Rann will be there. Mark, I want you to sit in with her.”
“Of course. I want to sit in on all of Helena’s interviews.”
“I will get clearance for you. They are bringing her in now. Let’s go.” Lennox paused and turned to Helena. “First sign of trouble with Rann, I want you out. He nearly took you out last time. Remember, whatever happens to you in the vision occurs to you for real.”
Helena watched Mark raise one eyebrow in surprise.
“That happens?” he questioned.
“Yes, it does. This is why I want you protecting Helena. You can use your own abilities to pull her out if she gets in trouble. Right, let’s get on it.”
He led the way out of the door. Helena said nothing and followed him, but she could suddenly feel Mark’s surprise and concern. The strange connection between them was already growing stronger. She just hoped he didn’t feel her exhaustion and her weakened defences, or he wouldn’t let her do it.
Helena sat down on a chair directly in front of the Muslim woman. They were in a closed room with no windows, a desk sat against one wall and above the desk was a mirror. The poor mother looked worn out and a band-aid covered a cut to her forehead. Helena was under a hell of a lot of pressure. The threat from Rann and his group Pura was global.
Behind the mirror was the head of the CIA, Brett Taylor, a rep from the German and French secret services as well as Lennox. They all knew attacks were imminent in London, Washington, Paris and Hamburg. If there were a suicide bomb attack, she would hold herself solely responsible for having failed to find them. Mark sat in a chair at the back of the room in the dim light while a MI5 officer sat in the opposite corner.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Abbasi?” she asked gently.
Helena always started her sessions with friendly conversation as her mind reached out to the witness attempting to make a connection. Sometimes she was invited in, other times she had to force her way in, overwhelming barriers and defences set up by the witness’ mind. But today it would go in her favour.
“Please, I just want to find my son. He took him.” The woman put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.
“I understand and I am going to help you do that,” Helena clasped her hands in front of her, resting them on top of the desk and the file she had been given on the woman. “But I need your cooperation. Please tell me when you last saw your son and what happened from there.”
“Can I have some water, please?”
“Yes, of course.”
Helena poured the water into a glass, suddenly getting flashes of the English countryside from the woman’s mind. It was starting. Mrs. Abbasi began talking but Helena barely heard knowing the interview was being filmed behind the mirror. To listen wasn’t what she was there to do. She was there to be a fly on the wall in the images of the woman’s life, searching for the right piece of information that would lead them to Rann. The image of the countryside grew and appeared behind the woman as though the rest of the room had been taken away.
Helena felt the breeze of the warm air brush her face. She was no longer in the room she was walking in the countryside. Mrs. Abbasi was getting off a bus on the small country road up ahead. Helena made a mental note of the number of the bus and its destination, Holerston. She caught up to the woman and followed. Mrs. Abbasi had no idea anyone was following her. Mrs. Abbasi came to a metal gate leading into a farmer’s field. They walked down the side of it ignoring the tractor at the other side preparing the field for sowing. They walked through another two fields in the same manner and she realised they were heading for the bank of trees down in a valley. When the woman reached the entrance to the forest, two men in simple plain clothes, almost as though they were wearing smocks, approached carrying Kalashnikovs and stopped her.
“I have come to see my son and to join Pura,” Mrs. Abbasi informed them.
She was nervous but confident because she had convinced the Pura representative who had recruited her son from the internet that she wanted to join him. She had undergone secret seminars and training and lied about her acceptance of them. Only then had she been allowed to join her son.
The men led her through a trail in the forest of pine trees to a round mound with trees above it. They moved branches away from an entrance inside the mound. One of them led Mrs. Abbasi down some steps inside. Helena followed her. The entrance led to a long tunnel that smelled damp. She could hear a trickle of water coming from somewhere and she felt cool water filled with moss run over her heels as they walked further down the tunnel lit at intervals by lanterns on the sides.
The tunnel weaved and turned through the mound going down and down. After a while Helena could hear voices, laughter and smell cooking. The tunnel opened into a wide cavern. There were five long tables filled with people on each side eating. They were being served by women and were all dressed in something very similar to puritan clothing. Mrs. Abbasi was welcomed with open arms but ignored when she asked if she could see her son. At the top of the cavern room on the floor covered by concrete and hay there was a raised platform with a table. Three men sat at the table and in the middle, was Rann. Mrs. Abbasi sat down frustrated and was given some food.
; As this was a vision from the past Rann couldn’t see her but she wondered how long it would take him to realise he was there in the vision. He stalked her every move just as she did his and a connection had been born. She hurried down one of the tunnels leading from the eating room past animals, cows that were being milked, oxen and others. The smell of animal waste was strong. It was just like the 17th century when people lived with their animals. She reached a recreation area and passed by to the bedrooms. She could hear the sounds of sex in the communal area. A woman and man were engaged in intercourse while a man beat a woman in the corner.
She walked into another area furnished in a more plush manner. There was one large central bed she gathered to be Rann’s by the stench of cigarette smoke she always picked up around him. They were a brand that made her queasy and her stomach was flipping over while she was in the room. Around the bed were small camp beds. But she was to be distracted again.
A set of voices coming from another small room with an open door were talking. She approached the open door as she heard movement in the room. She turned to see Rann walking in. He strode through the room, ignoring the sobbing and walked into the small room. Helena slipped inside the small room before the door was closed. Four men sat around a table. There was a map of the world lying on top of it. Small red darts were placed in London, Washington and every other major capital city in Europe and Moscow.
“Are the operatives in place?” Rann asked looking down over the map. Rann was a tall man with long, dark hair, around thirty-five. His face was not unhandsome but there was a cruelty to his features and eyes Helena had never seen in anyone before.
“Yes, in every city. They are ready to sacrifice themselves for the greater good of us all,” one of the men said. Helena peered at the map in front of them. She memorized it and the countries.
“The first suicide bombing will take place on Friday in London when the Prime Minister addresses parliament in question time,” one man said.
Protecting Helena Page 4