Gawain (Knights of Excalibur Book 1)

by Hanley, Donald

  She crept past the living room, now gloomy and uninviting with the fire turned off, and peered down the first floor hallway of the righthand wing. The nearest door was slightly ajar and a yellowish glow spilled through the leaded glass panels onto the floor. The voice she heard from inside the room was definitely Lionel’s.

  “– need to keep a close eye on him. He’s our only lead unless La Reine learns something useful from her –” He stopped suddenly and Trisha held her breath, wondering if he somehow noticed her. The light dimmed as someone passed in front of it and the door opened wider. Lionel stood there, staring at her in surprise.

  “Trisha!” he exclaimed, looking concerned. “What are you doing here? Did we wake you?” He wore a burgundy silk robe over dark blue pajamas and leather slippers. Apparently whatever situation he was dealing with occurred after he retired.

  “No, I was just – I needed a drink,” she stammered. “Of milk,” she added, just in case he thought she was looking for more alcohol.

  “Ah.” His brows drew together as he looked her over and she automatically pulled the hem of her tee lower with both hands. That had the unfortunate effect of drawing his gaze down to her bare legs and panties and she felt her face flushing.

  “I heard you talking to someone,” she explained, “and I just – I mean, I didn’t mean to overhear or anything. Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine, or as fine as it can be given the circumstances,” he said reassuringly. “Go back to bed. I’ll catch you up in the morning.”

  “You said we. Is there someone else here? I thought you said it was just us.”

  A flicker of annoyance crossed Lionel’s face. “The person I sent to follow Hawk came by to give a report. I’ll tell you everything in the morning, I promise. You should go to bed, Trisha. There’s no reason for both of us to be up late.”

  “All right,” she said reluctantly. “You’ll tell me if there’s a problem, right?” The last thing she wanted was to wake up in the middle of the night with Hawk looming over her. She wondered if she should keep the Glock under her pillow, just in case.

  “Of course. Good night, Trisha.”

  “Good –” The light dimmed again and she froze as another person stepped out into the hallway.

  She was as tall as Lionel but much slimmer. Her black leotard was tight enough to reveal that she wasn’t wearing a bra but didn’t need to, and her faded jeans had enough slashes to expose half the skin on her legs. Her hair was black as well, cropped very short with a high widow’s peak that almost reached the top of her skull, and her eyes were far too large for her delicate features, dark gray speckled with gold. The only color on her was the dark red of her lipstick. Even just standing there, she exuded wiry strength and athletic grace and Trisha couldn’t help wondering if she was some sort of punk ballerina.

  “Chantal, go back in the office,” Lionel said tersely. He was clearly unhappy that she showed herself. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Don’t be rude, Lionel.” Chantal’s voice was soft, almost purring, with a hint of an accent that Trisha couldn’t quite place. “I should at least meet the woman we are protecting, non?” She tilted her head as she looked Trisha over from head to toe, her lips curled at some private amusement.

  “Fine,” Lionel sighed. “Chantal, Trisha. Trisha, Chantal. She’s been following Hawk since he left the hospital.”

  “Her?” Trisha didn’t mean to sound so skeptical, but she couldn’t imagine Chantal being of much use against a man like Hawk. She was just tailing him, she reminded herself. She doesn’t need to be strong to do that. Why is she dressed like that, though? She must have been freezing outside, even with a proper coat.

  “Chantal is the best tracker I know, Trisha,” Lionel told her. Chantal’s smile grew as she cast him a sideways glance, but the expression didn’t quite seem to reach her eyes. “Wherever Hawk goes, we’ll be right there behind him.”

  “Where is he now, then?”

  “Asleep, like you should be. Come on, I’ll see you back to your room.” He gestured Trisha back towards the atrium. “Chantal, you should rest too. Take one of the spare bedrooms. You’ll need to be back on watch before he wakes up.”

  Chantal sniffed, as if she resented him telling her how to do her job. She turned away and strode down the hallway. Her gait was very strange, each step touching down toe first. Maybe she really is a ballerina, Trisha thought uneasily. How did she come to be helping Lionel?

  Lionel cleared his throat and touched Trisha’s elbow. “It’s late, Trisha, and I expect things to get busy tomorrow,” he said. “You’ll need your sleep.”

  “So will you,” she pointed out, but she let herself be led to the staircase.

  “I’m heading for bed as well, I assure you.” They started up the stairs side by side. “I was up before you this morning, I’ll wager.”

  “I’m usually up at five for my shift,” she informed him.

  “My colleagues woke me at three, as soon as they learned about Butler’s ... incident.” They reached the second floor and continued down the hallway. “I’ll likely have to be up early tomorrow as well, as soon as Hawk heads out.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” Lionel opened the door of her bedroom and stood aside to let her enter.

  “I feel like it is.” Trisha stopped in the middle of the room, hugging herself against a sudden chill. “Hawk is after me and I don’t know why.” Her throat tightened as she said that, nearly strangling the words.

  “We’ll figure this out, Trisha,” Lionel said earnestly. “He won’t hurt you, I promise.” He looked like he was going to add something, but he just sighed and reached for the light switch.

  “No, don’t!” He blinked at her in surprise. “It’s – it’s too dark,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “Ah.” He scanned the room but there weren’t any other light sources. “Here, perhaps this will help.” He turned on one of the lights in the bathroom and left the door open just enough to let a thin line of light spill across the carpet. “Better?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She was embarrassed by the relief in her voice. “I’m sorry, I’m just a wreck.” Lionel crossed over to her and gently rested his hands on her shoulders.

  “It’s all right,” he said softly. “It’s been a difficult day for you.” Trisha nodded jerkily and hastily wiped away the moisture in her eyes. He carefully lifted her chin with the side of his finger, looking straight into her eyes. “I won’t let him hurt you. Okay?”

  She nodded again. “Okay.” Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against the cool silk of his robe, and his hands slid down her back to hold her tightly. She felt safe for the first time since this nightmare begun and she was grateful for lending her his strength. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been there for me, she thought, reluctant to let him go. I’d probably be Hawk’s prisoner now and who knows what he would have done to me. She shivered again and Lionel’s grip tightened protectively.

  Something pressed against her hip and for a moment she though there was something in the pocket of his robe. She looked down and saw that the front of Lionel’s pajamas was tented. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry, I, uh –”

  Her hand slowly slid down the cool, soft silk of his robe of its own accord and gently pressed against his hardness. He sucked his breath in sharply as she carefully ran her fingertips up to the very tip and then back down again to the base, cradling his balls in her palm, feeling their weight and their heat through the thin fabric.

  “Trisha –” Lionel’s voice was rough and she looked up into his face. The cool, calm gray of his eyes was gone, replaced by a raw turbulent storm that ignited a smoldering fire inside her. His head bent to hers and she lifted her mouth to his, pressing their lips together in a fierce kiss.

  This isn’t right, something told her. You just met him. You’re just scared and need someone to make you feel saf
e. She didn’t care. She wanted him, now.

  She broke away from the kiss, gasping for breath, and sank to her knees, pulling his robe apart and fumbling with the drawstring on his pajamas. She finally just tugged them down over his hips, allowing his cock to spring free.

  He was uncut, which gave her a moment’s pause. She’d never been with an uncircumcised man before and the pale hood made it look like the end of his cock was missing. She stroked his foreskin down cautiously, bit by bit, and the head appeared, larger and redder than she thought it would be. She touched the tip of her tongue to his shaft, slowly drawing it upwards until it flicked off the end and Lionel groaned.

  She tilted her head and worked her way downwards, using her lips and tongue like she was slowly sucking the juice off a melting popsicle. When she reached the end, she mouthed his balls, first one and then the other, before starting back up again.

  Lionel reached down and placed his hand on the back of her head, entangling his fingers in her hair as he encouraged her to take the tip into her mouth. She let it in slowly, pressing her hands against his hips to resist his urgent pressure as she rasped her tongue across the sensitive underside. Every dip of her head took more of him in, but she only got halfway before she had to stop and release him.

  Lionel watched her with wild eyes, his nostrils flared, as she peeled her t-shirt over her head and threw it aside. She teased his cock with her nipples, brushing the hard nubbins across his shaft, and then took him in hand again, using her fingers and lips and tongue to bring him closer to the edge. She slowly increased the rhythm of her ministrations, searching for the pace that excited him the most.

  “Stop.” She almost didn’t recognize his voice as he pulled her head back. His cock throbbed against her lips and she tasted something salty, a drop of pre-cum. Lionel’s eyes were closed and his breathing was shaky. “Get up.”

  Trisha rose to her feet and he kicked off his slippers and stepped out of the pajama bottoms piled around his ankles. He held her arms and guided her backwards until her legs touched the edge of her bed. She lay back and lifted her hips to let him pull her panties off and cast them aside.

  She expected Lionel to penetrate her immediately – no, she wanted him to, to ease the ache building up inside her – but instead he knelt and gently spread her legs. She covered herself with her hand, mortified at her unsightly state, but he gently but firmly moved her arm aside and parted her pubic hair with his fingers, revealing the pink folds beneath.

  The touch of his tongue against her clitoris sent a shock of electricity through her entire body and her back arched as the sensation straddled the line between pain and pleasure. One hand clutched the bedspread while the other gripped his skull, guiding him lower. Each stroke along her inner lips caught her breath in her throat.

  “Oh God oh God.” Every jolt of pleasure built up on the last until Trisha thought she would explode, but she couldn’t quite reach the peak. “Stop – I can’t – I’m going to – God!” She writhed on the bed, clamping her thighs around Lionel’s head, searching for the one position, the one motion that would trigger her orgasm, but nothing worked, until Lionel’s tongue probed deep into her and touched off the spark. “Oh God!”

  Wave after wave coursed through her and she must have blanked out for a moment, because Lionel was suddenly lying across her, stroking one of her nipples with his thumb and circling the other with his tongue. Her womb twitched with every caress and the fire started building up again inside her.

  She pulled on his arms to get him to move higher and he obliged, sliding up to kiss her hard. His tongue demanded entrance and she let him in, tasting herself as he probed her palate. His knee nudged her legs apart and she spread her legs for him, feeling the length of his cock press against her pubes. She used her hand to guide him and the tip found her opening, already wet and ready for him, but he didn’t thrust into her.

  Instead, he raised himself up on his arms, teasing her as he kept his mouth pressed to hers, and she whimpered with frustration. He was so close! Just one push and he’d be in, but he stayed there, just barely parting her nether lips. She tried to buck her hips to take him inside, but he held her in place. She writhed under him, needing him inside her, but he waited, waited, waited until she was about to scream and then he plunged into her, their lips still locked together.

  Her gasp pulled the breath from his lungs before he pulled his head back, breaking their kiss. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long second and Trisha felt every delicious inch of him as Lionel slowly eased himself out, once again stopping with his cock just barely pressing against her opening. Then he entered her again, slower this time, and her breath took just as long to fill her lungs, catching at the very end when his head pushed against her womb.

  He pulled back and thrust again, each stroke going a little bit faster, each one shortening her breath, until she was light-headed and gasping for air. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to lift herself off the bed, but his silk robe was too slippery to get a grip. Instead, she arched her back, trying to find the perfect angle. Her pleasure started to build quickly and she bit her lip to delay her release, wanting him to come with her. And then he stopped.

  Her eyes popped open in surprise and dismay when he slid off her and stood at the side of the bed. For an awful moment, she thought he’d already come and she hadn’t noticed, but his cock was still hard, bobbing with every beat of his heart, and his eyes burned with lust.

  “Turn over,” he growled.

  Trisha quickly rolled onto her hands and knees and Lionel pulled her backwards until she was balanced on the very edge of the bed. His hands gripped her hipbones and he spread her knees wide apart, opening her cunt to the fullest. His cock rubbed against her lips and clit but this time he didn’t wait. She sucked in her breath sharply as he pounded into her, much deeper than before.

  He was relentless now, his stomach slapping against her ass with every stroke, filling her completely and driving her closer and closer to another shuddering orgasm. She came again with an animal groan, slumping to the bed as her arms gave out, too weak and trembly to hold her up anymore, but Lionel kept on pumping and she felt her insides clenching, building up to another climax.

  She fumbled between her legs, feeling the warm stickiness in her pubes, and raked her fingernails across his balls at every thrust. Her other hand squeezed her breast, pulling on her nipple until it throbbed like her clit. She couldn’t catch her breath, gasping as he slammed into her, until he suddenly stopped, pulling her hips tight against him. His cock seemed to grow another two inches and then pulsed, filling her with his semen and tipping her into her own completion and then into blissful oblivion.

  19

  Nim strode towards the frosted doors and they parted before her, allowing her access into the arrivals area at Logan International. Despite the early hour, there was quite a crowd gathered in the waiting area, eagerly searching for familiar faces among the passengers trickling out behind her. Around the periphery, drivers in dark suits eagerly raised their clipboards and tablets, hoping that her name matched their signs, but she ignored them, heading straight for the man in black leaning against a column with a dour expression on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “I could have taken a taxi,” she told him. He took a last swallow from his coffee and tossed the cup into the nearest trash container.

  “I was up anyway.” Hawk took her carry-on, a very expensive Italian leather satchel, and slung it over his shoulder. “How was your flight?”

  “Tedious, as always.” He headed for the exit and she lengthened her stride to keep pace with him. “I’m reminded why I rarely fly commercial.”

  “Why didn’t you take the jet?”

  “Because too many people would be asking too many questions. Any news this morning?”

  “Nothing. No word from Lucas.” The outside doors opened and the frigid air swirled around them. Nim’s fur-edged overcoat kept most of her warm, but her linen sl
acks did little to protect her lower legs. “He still hasn’t used the credit cards he stole from whats-his-name?”

  “Nick Johnson. No, no alerts yet. Johnson said he had about fifty dollars of cash in his wallet, so Lucas is probably using that.”

  “Unless he’s lying in a snowbank somewhere.”

  “It’s too close to Christmas to be so morbid, Gavin,” she chided him. “Let’s try to be optimistic.”

  Hawk grunted and pointed to the row of cars by the curb waiting to pick up the new arrivals. A white sports car without a driver blocked the front of the line, forcing the other drivers to loop around to get past. Its lights flashed as they approached.

  “I don’t think you’re allowed to park here,” she noted wryly. Hawk opened the passenger door for her and she settled into the seat gracefully.

  “I’m not parked, I’m picking up a passenger, like the sign says.” He closed the door and walked around to the other side. A pink slip of paper was stuck under the wiper and he plucked it out, stuffing it into his pocket without looking at it. He placed Nim’s satchel in the narrow space behind the seats and slid behind the wheel. The car started up with a deep-throated thrum that Nim felt in her chest.

  “I always presumed you drove a pickup or some such thing,” Nim observed as he pulled out into the lane. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a luxury car man.”

  “It’s a Chevy,” Hawk pointed out, glancing over his shoulder fleetingly before crossing two lanes to get to the airport exit.

  “It’s a brand new Corvette Stingray, Gavin. It costs more than some houses.”

  “It’s still a Chevy.” They joined the line of vehicles jostling to enter the Williams Tunnel to the mainland. “So what’s the plan?”

  Nim had spent the entire flight from New York considering their options. “Head directly to Patricia Macmillan’s place. With any luck, we’ll catch her there before she leaves for the day.”

  The drive to Thorndike Street took almost half an hour, largely due to a fender bender in the tunnel that bogged everything down. Hawk finally pulled over to the curb and pointed to the white clapboard-sided house across the street. The curtains were all closed and there was no sign of Trisha or any of her neighbors.