Second Nature (When Seconds Count)

by D. L. Roan

  The girl’s clothes were torn and her hair hung in tangles around her face. She couldn’t see her bruises or the cuts that spilled the blood running down her neck. She didn’t have to see. She knew it was no different than her own beaten flesh. She watched, hovering somewhere outside herself, as the man slapped the girl, sending her body crashing to the concrete floor. He crouched over top of her and ripped the remains of her tattered clothes from her body.

  She felt her screams rip through her throat. She had to stop him. She couldn’t let him! She was so little. No! Her next scream died on her lips as the man stopped, his head whipping around to pin her with his evil eyes. She tried to crawl away, to huddle against the evil she saw as he stomped toward her. Light flashed against the sharp steel blade as it was wielded at her face. Her hand flew up and batted it away, but whatever they had given her made her too weak to fight.

  Adrenaline pumped through her veins and pulled Thalia from the nightmare with a jolt, her hands grasping frantically at the air around her.

  “Easy, fossa. There are a lot of buttons here you don’t want to push by accident.” Grant’s voice sounded loud in her ears, sending what felt like shards of glass ripping through her brain. Thalia ripped off the headset and cradled her throbbing head in her hands. The sudden movement, coupled with the now deafening sound of the helicopter blades and the tightening fear in her chest, caused a weird pitch and roll in her stomach, sending bile and God knows what else on a stealth flight through her esophagus straight onto the floor at her feet.

  “Oh, damn. Hopper is going to kick my ass.” Grant shifted and pulled out a tattered rag from his pocket and handed it to her. When she took it from his hand, he grabbed her headset and pushed it into her other hand. She snatched it back up and slipped it over her ears, squeezing her eyes closed against what she was sure was the worst headache she’d ever had.

  Grabbing his own mic, he motioned for her to use hers. “You have to speak into…” Grant chuckled when she flinched and cringed back against the seat. “Okay. No talking.” She nodded weakly, cradling her head again. “Just try not to throw up again. Okay?”

  Ugh. I want to die. She wiped her parched lips with the rag, but it did nothing for the vile taste in her mouth. The helicopter dipped and her stomach lurched again. No. She glanced at Grant. I want to put a bullet in his knee and then die.

  Grant offered her a sheepish grin, mouthing the word sorry. Crap. He was being nice again. Okay, so maybe blowing out his knee was a little harsh. Even with the worst headache on record, she knew he had probably saved her life. Again. There was that, and the fact that he was flying the helicopter. She ran her tongue over her teeth, her mouth so dry it stuck to the enamel. God, what she wouldn’t give for a glass of water. To hell with the glass. She’d drink out of a puddle of mud if he would just land this thing within a hundred yards of one.

  She cleared her throat, wincing at the sound of her own voice as it echoed through the headset. “Ahh,” she coughed and tried again. “Got any water?”

  Grant shook his head. “We will be landing in fourteen minutes.” She could tell he was trying to keep his voice as low as possible. He was going to kill her with kindness. Her lips curled into a somewhat involuntary smile. It was something she hadn’t had much use for lately. It felt almost strange.

  She closed her eyes and sank back into the hard bucket seat, trying to organize her thoughts. She had a million and two questions, but nothing was going to be asked or answered until they landed. She usually didn’t mind flying, but she could safely cross puking in a helicopter off her list of things to try in the future.

  Grant watched her from the corner of his eye as he maneuvered the chopper into the landing zone. He hadn’t known many women in his life, but the ones who came to mind resembled nothing of the tough-as-nails woman who sat quietly in the seat next to him. Other than throwing up in his friend’s multi-million dollar aircraft, she had handled waking up at thirty five hundred feet pretty well, all things considered.

  She’d been surprising him from the minute she’d opened her eyes on that beach. Not many people could impress him these days, and she’d managed to do it at nearly every turn. He kept thinking about the look in her eyes when he had issued that brilliant declaration back at Salina’s. He could have kicked himself for being so damn thoughtless.

  She had been a slave, for fuck’s sake. Most likely a sex slave. God only knew what nightmares she had lived through. He had no right or business throwing things like spanking and bondage around so casually. The look in her eyes when he’d said it was nothing if not pure need. Aside from confusing the hell out of him, her reaction to him and his thoughtless promise inspired an entirely different line of questioning. He was going to have to navigate these waters very, very carefully. First and foremost, he needed to find out just who the hell she was. That, he feared, was going to be one hell of a chat.

  After setting the chopper down as close to the tree line as he could, he cut the engine and unbuckled his harness. “Stay there. I’ll come around to help you out.” He slid his headset off and hooked it into place between the seats.

  In total Thalia fashion, she unharnessed herself and was half out of her seat before he had gotten there. “I said to stay put,” he grumbled as he ignored her protests and scooped her out of the chopper.

  “What happened?” she shouted mere inches from his ear. His steps faltered as his head jerked away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.” Grant sat her down at the base of a nearby tree then braced his hands on his thighs as he looked her over. “What happened? I don’t remember anything beyond Salina drugging me.”

  Grant huffed and straightened, wiping his forearm over his brow. “Stay here. I need to unload a few things from the chopper. We’ll talk when we get to the compound.”

  Thalia moved to get up and Grant whirled around, pinning her with his fiery stare. “I. Said. Stay.”

  She slumped against the tree. “Can you at least tell me where we are?”

  “Zimbabwe,” Grant shouted over his shoulder as he turned and jogged back to the helicopter.

  Chapter Ten

  Zimbabwe. She could work with that. It was only one country away from where she needed to be. By tomorrow. That’s doable. Not. She was so screwed if she didn’t get to a phone. She was probably screwed regardless. Jauhar wasn’t known for his pleasant, understanding nature. Thalia immediately began recalibrating her plan. If she could ditch Grant long enough to contact Jauhar within the next six hours and managed to get him to accept the delay, she should be able to get back to Mozambique, retrieve the thumb drive, and be in Nampula by Friday, maybe?

  She looked down at her leg, realizing for the first time the clothes she was wearing. Wonderful. Grant obviously had to dress her. Again. She really had become a completely useless invalid. She carefully pressed her palm to her thigh and let out a relieved sigh when she felt the lack of heat radiating from the wound. Blessed Salina. Despite jacking her up on who knows what, the woman obviously knew what she was doing around a stab wound. Finally something was breaking her way.

  Still, she had one big problem. Blowing the original drop wasn’t going to win her any confidence points with Jauhar. How did this get so out of control? It was supposed to be simple. Both Jauhar and Don Lalia wanted that thumb drive. It had taken her the better part of six months on the run to figure out what they were after. She still didn’t know why they wanted it.

  Six months after Issa’s murder, she had been ready to give up and just let them kill her when she stumbled upon a recorded conversation between Issa and Jauhar hidden among some of the other things Issa’s estate manager had given her. The hopelessness in Issa’s voice had cut her to the bone. Jauhar had threatened him. The recording was vague, but it was clear Issa owed him money, which made no sense because Issa had more money than God.

  One thing on the recording was made crystal clear; Jauhar had Issa killed. Nearly every detail of Issa’s murder matched the threat Jauhar had made. The revela
tion had given her a fresh fire in her bones; the will to not only survive, but to make sure Jauhar paid with his life for the bullet he’d put in Issa’s head.

  After Don Lalia’s men caught up to her in Mozambique, she decided it was time to stop running. They would catch her and kill her eventually. It was only a matter of time. She couldn’t let that happen before she’d extracted revenge for Issa. So she made a deal with the devil himself.

  The only way she was going to get close enough to Jauhar to kill him was to demand an in person meeting to hand over the drive. People like Jauhar didn’t like being given ultimatums, but apparently he was as ready to end this nightmare as she was, readily agreeing to meet her in Nampula. She had no misconceptions about his intentions to kill her. She no longer cared if she died, as long as she took him to hell with her.

  Lost in her thoughts, she flinched when Grant dropped a big duffle bag onto the grass beside her. She looked up to see him studying her, a hard expression chiseled into his handsome face. Why was he helping her? In five short days she had only managed to make his life as miserable as hers. In that moment she realized she no longer feared him, which probably made her an automatic candidate for idiot of the year, but it was true. Something inside her ached to reach out to him, to let him in and tell him everything. She knew if she gave into those feelings it would only make leaving him that much harder. And she would leave him, as soon as she was able. She was a walking dead woman with a very short expiration date. Despite her growing attraction to him, there was no sense in letting him believe they had anything more than a physical connection. Regardless of whatever else she had to deny herself, she at least wanted the chance to explore the sexual power he had over her before she said goodbye to him forever. Hopefully she would get that chance before she ran out of time.

  Insisting that she be allowed to walk from the helicopter to the compound instead of letting Grant carry her was a moronic idea. By the time they reached the front door she had nearly passed out from exhaustion. Lack of food and water, combined with the chaos her body had been through in the last week, made her capable of only two things by the time she stepped inside the industrial style flat. Taking a micro shower and finding a bed.

  Thalia opened her eyes to see Grant standing in the bedroom doorway, his hands tucked into his pockets, watching her. She lay unmoving for a moment while she took in the man staring back at her. He’d shaved, the smooth skin on his sharp jawline and strong chin somehow giving him an even harder edge about him, if that was even possible. Thick veins curled under the tanned skin of his biceps as they strained against the deep green t-shirt he wore like a second skin, stretched tight across his chest. Her fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and unbutton the top button on his threadbare blue jeans. She could almost taste the fog of testosterone that emanated from him, floating effortlessly across the room as it reached out and tickled a spot deep inside her.

  She closed her eyes, etching the image into her memory before she let it slip to the back of her mind. Taking a quick mental inventory, she realized her screaming headache was blessedly gone, but her stomach burned from lack of sustenance. “What time is it?” She could tell by the dim light from the window it was nearing nightfall.

  “Almost six,” Grant said, uncrossing his bare feet and taking the few steps needed to reach the side of her bed. “Hungry?”

  Starving. “No,” she said and shook her head. Flipping back the covers, she threw her legs over the side, wincing at the small ache in her thigh. “I need to make a phone call.”

  “Whoa there, fossa.” Grant blocked her escape, caging her in with his thighs. “You’re not doing anything outside of eating dinner until we have a little chit-chat.”

  Thalia’s body temperature skyrocketed. She was practically staring at his crotch, saliva pooling around her tongue at the temptation in front of her. Her vision from the beach played in her mind like an erotic film. When Grant’s fingers threaded through her hair she nearly came unraveled with the desire to touch him. A whimper spilled from her lips when he tilted her head back, giving her a glimpse of the fire raging in his eyes. There were no words needed to communicate the sudden and mutual need that filled the small space between them.

  “This won’t change my mind. You’re not making any phone calls until we talk.”

  She didn’t care. She wasn’t playing a game or trying to seduce him into letting her go. She needed to taste him. Needed to feel his strength binding her to him. She gave a silent nod, her womb fluttering to life when his golden eyes darkened to a rich maple, his inner beast calling to her.

  “Unzip my pants and take out my cock.” Thalia’s hands trembled with urgency as she unbuckled his belt and slipped the button through its anchor as she’d wanted to do moments earlier. The sound of his zipper raked over her skin as she drew it down, revealing his black boxers and the prominent bulge behind the thin cotton. Her fingers tingled as she cupped his shaft and ran her palm over its thick length.

  “Take it out, Thalia.” His gruff command sent a river of lust flowing through her veins. An aching throb unfurled inside her, flooding her with excitement. She impatiently tugged at his jeans, sliding her hands into the waistband of his boxers, quickly slipping them over his cock and down his muscled thighs. He’s gorgeous. His swollen head bobbed free in front of her and her tongue slid over her lips with anxious anticipation. She couldn’t wait to taste him. Wrapping her hand around the base, she followed the slight upward curve to the ring around his tip, the hardened silk sliding through her fingers as he drew in a ragged breath.

  She raked in her own staggered breath when he threaded the fingers of his other hand into her hair, cradling her head between his hands with a commanding grip. She didn’t feel trapped, but there was no question of who was in control. What she had imagined on the beach was nothing but a watered down version of what it felt like to have him truly holding her captive to his will.

  “Open your mouth.” Her body tensed as his grip tightened, her scalp tingling as each strand of hair was pulled tight. His hips pressed forward, pushing the swollen head beyond her lips, his unique flavor exploding over her tongue. “Fuck!” Grant held her head and pushed to the back of her throat, her lips meeting her hand that still gripped his shaft. Agonizingly slow, he withdrew from her mouth, letting her taste and feel each vein and ridge with the tip of her tongue. “That’s it fossa, taste me. I’ve been dying to feel you like this.”

  With the pull of her lips, she drew the seed from his slit and rolled her tongue around the smooth edge, extracting another agonized groan from his chest. “Fuck, yes!” His hips flexed again and she tensed as he pushed to the back of her throat. He waited there patiently as she steadied her breaths, the look in his eyes coaxing, demanding she relax and let him. When she did he slid past her tongue, her throat swallowing hard around his cock as she watched his mouth open on a cry.

  “Christ!” His hips jerked back and he pulled from her mouth. “Stand up.” He helped her to her feet, and then pushed off his pants and boxers, kicking them away. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked as he bent and yanked her thin, cotton pants to the floor.

  Now that she had tasted him, tasted the power that lurked inside him, there was no turning back. As long as she kept her wits and didn’t allow anything between them to distract her from her plan, there was no reason to deny herself this one need. She nodded and stepped free of her pants, collapsing back onto the mattress when his lean, hard body crowded against her.

  Hovering above her, he worked her knees apart with his and took her chin in a firm grip. “Talk to me, Thalia. I need a yes or no. Is this what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then take off your shirt. I want to feel all of you against me.” He pulled his own shirt over his head as he watched her do the same. She cringed when she saw the brown and green swirls of bruises across her abdomen. Her arms folded over her midsection in an attempt to hide them.

  “There’s no need to hide
from me, fossa.” His hands landed at her sides and he pushed her back to the mattress with the weight of his body. “I’ve seen the worst of it and you’re beautiful. All of you.” He held his heavy weight suspended above her as his hot tongue traveled the length of her neck and swirled around her earlobe. His panting breaths sent a wave of heat rolling over her skin as he whispered in her ear, “This will be hard and fast, fossa. Hold on to me.”

  Thalia had no sooner wrapped her arms around him when he pushed the head of his cock through her slick entrance and thrust into her to the hilt, stretching her to the point of delicious pain. “Ahh! Yes!” she cried out and rocked into him, the force of his next punishing drive sliding her further across the bed.

  “Oh, fuck yes!” One arm tunneled beneath her shoulder, his hand gripping the back of her neck as the other slid beneath her ass, anchoring her to him as he thrust deeper. “Kiss me,” he ordered, and she opened her mouth to him, his warm tongue sliding in to tangle against hers with an urgent demand.

  The air around them swirled with the scents of their combined arousal and crackled with the electric charge that pulsed between them as each of his powerful thrusts fused them closer and closer together. His desperate grunts and ragged breaths sent wave after wave of pure lust rushing through her veins as they rocked across the bed, lost in a hard frenzy of lust. Her body tensed, the walls of her pussy tightening around his cock as the first flutters of her orgasm rushed along her spine. He tore his lips from hers in a responsive growl, the tendons in his neck stretching beneath his skin as he threw his head back on another powerful thrust. “Holy hell. That feels…fuck…” He moved faster, driving harder and further. She could feel his shaft swell inside her. His fingers gripped her ass so hard she knew she would have more bruises added to her already battered body, but she didn’t care. She loved it. She loved the feel of his weight against her as he held her down and took what he needed from her over and over.