by Dawn Steele
Then he joined them on the bed. The mattress creaked with the added weight. He took Kate’s hand off Alyssa’s pussy and put it on his cock.
“Stroke me,” he said.
Kate pumped him until he was harder and more rigid than before. Then she guided his cock into Alyssa’s pussy hole, which was very wet and leaking with her juices.
Wait, Alyssa wanted to tell him, you’re not using a condom. The implications were obvious and serious.
But she didn’t stop him. No words came to her tongue as he entered her vagina with one swift and brutal thrust.
“Arrrrr!” she cried.
She reached out to touch his chest, but his hands seized her wrists and held her down. He started to fuck her. His movements were rapid and rough. His sweaty body bore down on hers. The slam of his groin against hers was more like a slap.
God, but the feel of his cock stretching and filling and expanding her vaginal tunnel was glorious! His cock fit her perfectly. Like two halves of a peach. Her body was jerked upward and into the bed. He was nailing her onto the mattress, rubbing her G-spot like no other.
The friction. The immense friction!
Her orgasm exploded. Violently. Wonderfully.
She cried out –
“Oh, oh, oh!”
as he continued to thrust and pump into her.
Her vision was flooded with whiteness and redness and bright golden spots. She felt his seed burst within her. Flowing deep into her.
Perhaps this was what he had in mind all along.
And Kate?
What must she feel about all this? Or was it part of the duo’s grand design?
Her climax ebbed and flowed, until she was a quivering mess. All her limbs felt like Jell-O. His skin felt very hot against hers.
She looked up at his face. At both their faces. They were looking down at her. Triumphantly.
He was still joined to her when he turned his head to kiss Kate’s lips. They kissed – lavishly and lushly. Tongues in mouths. Twining.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” Kate said.
It was as though they had eyes only for each other, despite his cock still being embedded deep in Alyssa’s vagina. Weird, Alyssa thought, but hot. She couldn’t move. It was as though a steamroller had flattened her onto the bed. Once again, she felt a twinge of envy for their love. No man would ever love her like that.
Then a knock came on the outer door.
Alyssa froze.
Oh shit. Don’t tell me the Director is watching this.
The door opened. Of course. Whoever it is outside would definitely have access. Panic began to set in but she quelled it. Rust calmly pulled out of her. His cock was still dripping semen. Kate hastily threw the sheets over her pregnant naked body.
“Alyssa?” It was Dan’s voice.
Shit in a bucket.
Alyssa found the strength to scramble off the bed. She dove for her clothes as Dan thundered into the bedroom.
“Alyssa?” Dan stared at the naked Rust. “Uh, pardon the intrusion.”
“No problem,” Rust said.
How could he be so calm?
“What is it?” Alyssa snapped at Dan. She quickly tugged on her panties. Fuck the bra. She threw her blouse over herself and launched out of the bedroom.
“I can’t tell you here.” Dan walked beside her, and glanced back at Rust.
“Look, I did it as an experiment, OK?”
“I’m not judging you.”
“Yes, you are. I’m logging this as an experiment and all, so it’s perfectly legitimate.”
Why was she sounding so defensive?
They charged out of the room and closed the door behind them again. The lock clicked, and the red light on the panel outside indicated that the door was sealed.
“What is it?” She glared at him.
“It’s the Director. He wants to talk to you. Now. He had a call from the President.”
15
It felt good to be under the shower.
Kate let the jets of hot water cascade over her naked body.
That was certainly a strange experience, she mused. Her fingers . . . on a woman. Rust had always wanted her to be adventurous in sex. She wasn’t ready at Aaron Mitchell’s party, but the months had tempered her inhibitions. Losing Rust had made her re-examine her life and made her shed a lot of her reservations.
Now she was ready to throw caution into the wind and live her life – or what was left of it – with abandon.
She suspected Alyssa was called by the Director because of what Rita had started. She smiled to herself under the blistering jets.
If only she could tell Rust.
Rust was fast asleep. She smiled at that too. He was spent.
Let’s screw with their minds, was all he told her. He couldn’t tell her any more than that. She had trusted him and let him take the lead. Yes, she knew he was going to fuck Alyssa. A few months ago, that would have bothered her. But she was secure enough now in his love to actually enjoy a threesome. After all, he had always wanted her to enjoy being fucked by other men – in his presence, of course.
She turned the taps off and dried herself.
She went out into the bedroom. Rust was still asleep under the covers. The shades were drawn and she did not want to disturb him.
She padded out to the little lounge of the suite, still naked. The temperatures were very well-controlled in here. She envisioned the publicity and campaign Rita had probably engendered. Rita wouldn’t let her down. Not with what she was willing to pay with Rust’s money. And being the publicity whore Rita was, she would have probably done it for free anyway.
There were two trays of covered food on the table. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. Maybe Rust had let them in. The agents in this place usually knocked before they entered during mealtime and they were always polite. That was the only thing that made it seem less like a prison.
She uncovered the silver platters.
The aroma of peppercorns wafted to her nostrils. Two succulent rib-eye steaks sat in delicious-looking brown gravy which was smothered in sliced mushrooms and carrots and peas. Mashed potatoes whipped in swirls were laid to one side, and strawberry pudding completed the ensemble. Even the bread rolls were steaming hot.
Her stomach growled. Pregnancy was making her so hungry, and she was certainly craving more meat than usual. Perhaps it was because she was carrying a little tiger shifter inside her – a thought which did not alarm her as much as it once would have.
She supposed Rust wouldn’t mind if she tucked in first.
After all, she was so very hungry and he needed his healing sleep.
16
It was a good thing the Director did not require her to be present in Quantico.
“He what?” Alyssa said to the Director’s image on the screen.
She was referring to the President.
“He wants us to show the O’Briens to the public on television.” The Director grimaced.
Well, sir, Alyssa thought, I did mention that it was a good thing to do so before public pressure surmounted, but you didn’t listen.
“Well, sir, that might not be a bad thing,” she said.
“Are they fit for public consumption . . . appearance wise?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t done anything scandalous to them, have you? We don’t want another Abu Ghraib.”
Alyssa didn’t think Rust would tell anyone of what they did during the three-way. As for the others, he had consented. As had Moira and Connor. She had it all on written contract.
“They’re perfectly fine,” she said confidently. “Nothing has been done to them without their written consent.”
Besides, there were ways to ensure they said the right things to the press. After all, Rita Cunningham and her public bloodhounds did not ask to see Kate, did they now?
“Good. The President wants the press conference to be held two days from now. Arrange it.”
The video feed winked off.
Alyssa sighed. Rita Cunningham was going to have a reckoning once this was over.
The door opened. It was Dan, and his face was stricken.
“What is it now?” she said irritably.
“It’s the O’Briens. Something terrible has happened.”
At first, Alyssa thought it was a joke. But Dan’s face was very pale.
Oh my God, she thought, rushing out of the room.
17
Rust was in the throes of a strange dream.
In this dream – which he was not sure it was a dream – he was in the dark. He was lying on his bed, and he was alone. And yet, it was very clearly the room he was incarcerated in with Kate.
It was dark and it was cold. Another anomaly. The temperatures were well-controlled here.
He got up.
“Kate?”
There was no answer. But Rust was aware that this was a dream, and dreams led you to strange places. He reached for the lamp to turn it on. Light stabbed into the room suddenly, filling it with texture and color.
“Kate?”
He padded out into the lounge.
The small dining table was strewn with the remnants of a half-eaten meal. A pool of gravy sat on a mostly empty plate, while the other dish was still covered.
“Kate?”
Then he saw her. Her legs, to be exact.
She was lying on the floor beside the table, and she was unmoving.
A blow struck his chest immediately. He rushed to her.
“Kate?”
This is a dream, this is a dream, he told himself.
He turned her body over. No, not her body! She’s still alive! With our child! Kate’s eyes were shut and she was barely breathing. Her skin was very cold and pale.
Why was she naked? A towel had fallen to the floor next to her. The shoal of her belly was very obvious.
“Kate?”
He felt for a pulse. There was none.
Was this still a dream?
18
Alyssa rushed to the hospital wing of the FBI facility. The curtains were drawn around two cubicles, but she could hear the commotion behind them.
“Give me another 1mg of Epinephrine, stat!”
“OK, place the paddles. Clear!”
“Stand back.”
There came a whirr, and then the sound of a knock. Well, not exactly a knock, but she knew it was the defibrillator going off.
She swiped away a curtain.
Connor O’Brien was on a gurney, surrounded by doctors and paramedics. His body was stuck with tubes and wires and chest leads and everything else. The cardiac monitor showed jagged lines. And then it went flat again.
“He’s not breathing. Respiration is zero.”
Yes, Alyssa could see that.
“Charging. Stand back.”
Everyone else stood away from the bed except the doctor placing the defibrillator paddles on Connor O’Brien’s chest.
The whine again, and the knock.
Connor’s body twitched.
The monitor showed a blip, and then a flat line again.
Oh no, no, no, Alyssa thought in horror. All sorts of thoughts tumbled in her head. Was it anything they had done? Was it the experiments? Did Connor kill himself in some manner to protect the larger community?
She blindly walked out of the cubicle to the next one. There, the same surreal scene unfolded. Only it was the elegant Moira O’Brien on the gurney. The monitor also showed a flat line.
What was this? A suicide pact?
“What do we do?” said the doctor holding the paddles.
“Don’t give up,” she snapped.
This was the end of her career. Worse, the Director might court-martial her for criminal negligence. Two of the most precious specimens in the history of the world, and she lost both of them.
But what about Rust?
Her heart stilled.
Another commotion appeared at the entryway of the ward. She strode out of the cubicle, only to see Rust run alongside another gurney which was being wheeled in by several agents. The gurney contained an immobile and pregnant Kate Penney.
Rust’s face was very pale.
He whispered, “Save her.”
19
“How do you feel?” the doctor said.
“Fine.”
“Any headaches, vomiting or the like?”
“No.”
“Did Kate take anything you didn’t?”
Rust closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands.
“Yes. A . . . I believe it was a steak.” He had uncovered the other dish and seen his untouched dinner.
“It’s being analyzed now.”
“It’s poison.” Rust stood up. “I want to see her. I want to see my parents.”
“They are doing all they can for them. Please . . . sit down. You will only get in the way.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“Please – ” The doctor put a firm hand on his shoulder. “I know you are, Professor O’Brien. But there’s nothing you can do. Just leave it up to us.”
Rust knew he was right. With a sinking feeling, he sat down again. He was helpless and powerless, and that was a horrible feeling. Like he was in a void. Like he was still living the nightmare he could not wake up from.
The door to the clinic opened. Alyssa strode in. She stopped as soon as she saw Rust’s face.
Rust held his breath.
Alyssa said, “Please . . . come with me, Rust.”
*
Rust gazed at the bodies of his dead parents. Their faces – calm in repose. He felt . . . an absolute calm and also an absolute panic. It was a pervasive mélange of two juxtaposing emotions. What happened had happened.
He swallowed.
His mother – so beautiful. So young in death. He remembered how he had battled against her in later years. They used to be so close when they were growing up. Him playing at the foot of her desk as she worked on her case files. And she would never chastise him for making a noise.
How are you doing down there, Rust?
Vroooom.
He showed her his toy fire engine.
Glad to know you’re still alive.
Looking at her peaceful face now, his heart wrenched. Horribly.
He was well aware of Alyssa’s presence behind him. He cleared his throat. “I would like a moment alone with them.”
“I’m sorry. This is not an ordinary circumstance.”
Yeah. He understood. It meant that she would not leave him alone with them.
He clasped his mother’s cold hand. Hard. Then he leaned over to kiss her on the brow.
He moved to his father next on the other bed. The pain in his chest swelled. There was a neuroscience study which showed that the pain the brain experienced during emotional trauma was no different from what it felt during physical trauma. The pain Rust felt now was akin to a knife coring and gouging out his heart.
So many regrets. He hadn’t even patched things up properly with his parents. So many things left unsaid. All he could remember were the quarrels he had with his father.
If I walk out this door, I’m not coming back.
I’m not going to do what you ask of me.
You’ve got blood on your hands, Dad, and I’m not going to be a part of it anymore.
He laid a hand on his father’s cold brow. They resembled each other so much. His mother used to comment on how alike they were with each other and that was why they couldn’t mix without combusting.
His parents were newly dead now. The FBI was just letting him view the bodies before they were wheeled off to the morgue for post-mortem.
Rust turned to Alyssa.
“Kate?” he asked.
“They’re still trying to save her.”
He nodded. He was numb all over. Like someone had dabbed anesthesia on his skin and forgotten to put him under.
Then he noticed something strange. His father’s lips were turning purple.
&
nbsp; “Rust,” Alyssa cautioned, “please don’t touch anything . . . more than necessary. We’re going to need all the evidence for the post-mortem.”
But Rust opened his father’s mouth. His father’s tongue was also turning purple.
Rust pulled in a sharp breath.
Not many knew it, but this could only mean one thing.
20
Alyssa was watching Rust very carefully as he examined the body of his father. She had to remember that this man – who had fucked her own willing body so forcefully and masterfully – was a doctor. A seasoned professional.
And there was a look on his face which suggested he knew what had killed his parents.
Rust moved to his mother and began the same examination. Once again, Moira’s lips and tongue were slowly turning purple. Alyssa had seen a purple tongue before – on a chow-chow.
“You think they have been poisoned?” she said.
“Without a doubt.”
“You know who did this?”
He did not answer the question directly.
Instead, he said, “I know how to cure Kate.”
*
There was no time to lose.
Alyssa knew this was not a time to question Rust. They had to act – swiftly.
“I have to depend on you,” Rust said, “seeing as you won’t let me out.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she assured him.
He told her exactly what to do. Then she turned heel and strode out of the room. Dan was waiting outside.
“I need a private jet. Maximum fuel. Now,” she instructed.
“I’ll need the Director’s permission – ”
“I said now. I’ll do the explaining later.”
Dan took one look at her face, and scrambled away.
The jet was ready soon enough. The car sped to the private airfield.
“Where are we going?” Dan asked.
“Honduras.”
21
Rust had not slept a wink for the last twelve hours. He could only watch through the glass of the intensive care unit.
Kate was on a ventilator. He knew they weren’t in a real hospital, but it was the best care they could get under the circumstances. They wouldn’t take any chances moving her. Kate was tethered with more drips and sensors and monitors than he had seen on a living person for a long time.