by Desiree Holt
“Jesus!” Justin sucked in a hard breath, and his fingers tightened on her breasts even more.
“Should I stop?” she teased, already breathless with need.
“Fuck, no.”
He moved his hands around to her back and slipped them down inside her bikini bottoms until he was gripping the cheeks of her ass. He flexed his fingers around her flesh in the same rhythm as her strokes. When his fingers eased into the tight cleft between the cheeks of her buttocks she clenched around them and increased the speed of her strokes.
“Okay, stop.” Justin wrapped his fingers around her wrist to keep her hand form moving.
“Stop?” She looked at him, puzzled. “But—”
“We have to get out of the water, so we can do this properly.”
He hoisted himself up on the deck, then reached down and lifted her up, too. He shucked his bathing shorts and tossed them aside, then divested her of her bikini bottoms. Kneeling in front of her, he nudged her thighs apart and spread the lips of her sex.
“Fuck, Marissa. I could feast on this all day, every day.”
His words and the knowledge of what he was about to do made her legs so shaky she had to balance herself with her hands on his shoulders. He had such an educated tongue, knowing exactly where to lick and swipe, when to tease her with broad, flat strokes, and when to nibble on her clit. When to trace lines with his tongue and when to take little bites. She dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his shoulders as need rocketed through her, making her body shake. When she tried to squeeze her thighs together to contain the heavy pulse beating in her inner walls, Justin deliberately forced them apart, so he could continue to stroke her sex with his tongue and fingers.
He looked up at her, his mouth wet with her juices and blazing heat in his eyes. “You are so fucking sweet,” he rasped, “I could eat you all day and all night.”
Oh, God!
The moment his mouth touched her again, her orgasm hit, rocketing through her and shaking her entire body. Justin slid two, then three fingers inside her, her muscles tightening on them as she rocked back and forth, riding out the spasms. When the last tremor subsided, Justin rose to his feet and carried her to the double-wide lounger under the overhang.
“Now it’s my turn,” he teased.
“More than you know.” Even though she was still shaking from her release, Marissa pushed him onto his back next to her, rose to her knees and took his cock in her hand. “Much more.”
She had to stretch her lips to take him all in, but his taste was so intoxicating she didn’t care. With her lips tight against the crown, she swirled her tongue around the velvety head, working hard to find room to allow the movement. She slipped her free hand between his hard-muscled thighs and cupped the sac that held his balls, grasping gently, and working them in concert with the rhythm of her tongue and mouth.
“Fuck!” Justin groaned and lifted his hips to her. “Take it easy. I want to be inside you when I come.”
Marissa slid her mouth from his cock, gave the velvety head a gentle lap, and grinned at him. “Only if you promise to let me make you come with my mouth later on.”
Was this her? She’d never been so aggressive in sex. But then, she’d never been with a man who touched her so deep inside and made her want everything with him.
“I’ll promise you anything if you’ll let me be inside you right now.”
Easing her hand from between his thighs, she turned and stretched out on her back. Justin lifted a condom from the little table beside the lounger and rolled it on. She was pleased to see his hand was shaking as much as hers.
He knelt between her thighs, spreading them wide, and paused to take a long look at her.
“Keep this in mind. When we can finally get you home? This”—he pointed at her, and then himself—“is not over. Not even a little.”
His words sent a tiny buzz of excitement tumbling through her. She looked hard into his eyes, and what she saw there thrilled her. Could she believe that was possible? She hadn’t dared let herself believe this could go on, and she wanted to hang on to his words. To hug them close to her.
Then there was no more time for thinking. With one swift thrust he slid all the way inside her, his passage eased by the liquid from her orgasm. But he filled every inch of her, making her entire body tremble. And then he began the slow, steady in-and-out movement that set every nerve in her body on fire.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles at the base of his spine. His body was solid muscle everywhere, the skin smooth except for the soft hair on his chest that rubbed deliciously against her breasts. In an instant she was ready again, her body so receptive to his it almost scared her.
“Look at me.” His voice had a gravelly sound. “Look at me, Marissa.”
She opened her eyes to see him looking into them as if he could see clear inside to her soul. The brown of his irises was almost as dark as rich chocolate, and now she could see little golden flecks like amber.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he demanded.
If she’d been able to speak, she’d have told him that would be impossible. Their gazes were still locked when her orgasm exploded from deep inside her, the walls of her sex milking the thick shaft inside her. Her eruption triggered his, and in seconds he was pulsing inside her. At the height of their shared release he took her mouth in a soul-searing kiss, tongue thrust deep inside, while he held her so close to him they were almost one person.
She didn’t know which heartbeat was shaking her body, his or her own, or whose breath was rasping in the air. And she didn’t care. At last their breathing settled and he caught his weight on his forearms, smiling down at her as he brushed the damp hair from her face.
“Never before,” he told her.
“Never before what?” She wanted him to say it.
“Never like this with anyone else.”
She smiled and hugged him close. She had never, ever, felt so at one with another person. She hoped he meant what he said about a future when this was all over. But if not? She would hold every memory of this time together deep inside her heart.
Chapter 7
Anyone watching Stefan Maes’s house Saturday morning would not have seen anything out of the ordinary. He and Desmet left the house early. They had a stop to make before they could even pick up Joubert. The car was waiting for him out front, as arranged.
“The men have all the usual firearms to take with them?”
“Of course.” Desmet nodded. “Assault rifle, machine guns, handguns and more than sufficient ammo for all of them. His lips quirked in the trace of a grin. “A little overkill here?”
“It’s not that I expect the visitors at Princessa Key to be armed to the teeth if at all, or whatever guards they have to use more than basic artillery. But it’s nice to know we control the firepower.” He leaned back in the seat. “And the arrangements have been made to transport them, including transferring to the helicopter at the Nassau airport?”
He knew they were but that weird feeling still prickled at the nape of his neck, so he wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
“Yes, as I’ve assured you every day since we set this in motion, everything is set.”
“And you have gone over the logistics with everyone again?”
Desmet chuckled. “So many times, they can recite it to me in their sleep.”
“That’s what I want. There is no room for even the tiniest error. Once the helicopter touches down we follow everything with precision. I must have success.”
“And you will,” the other man assured him. “Stefan, after this weekend there will be no question you are back in full force.”
“As soon as the luggage is loaded we will head to Joubert’s place. All is still good there?”
“Yes. His concern for his family overrides his illness and his fright.”
<
br /> “Excellent. We only need him to be compliant until takeoff.”
Again, not taking chances that they were being watched, Stefan told the driver to take them to a building at Canary Wharf. They entered a restaurant famous for the breakfast pastries he loved, and that he was in the habit of frequenting. Thirty minutes later, disguised, they left the restaurant and got into a cab.
No one would be following the cab. They’d be watching for the limo that Maes favored, and that had dropped him off there. At last they hooked up with their driver and headed for Joubert’s home.
The man was definitely nervous when they arrived. He kept looking from Maes to his wife and child standing in the foyer with him to the two “bodyguards” Maes had sent to keep the family in line.
“You will recall your men when we have arrived at Princessa Key, right?” he asked.
“Of course,” Maes answered in a smooth tone of voice. “These men are only here to keep your family safe should anyone find out about this trip. Once we reach our destination no one will bother them.”
He was glad the man didn’t ask him what about after this weekend.
Joubert hugged his daughter and kissed her, then gave his wife a hug and kiss as if he’d never see her again, which, after all, wasn’t so far from the truth. At last they were on their way to London City Airport, in the heart of the city. Joubert had called and given the proper instructions to have the plane ready.
He could not afford one slipup here. If the timing was off, if someone asked the wrong question, if… There were a million ifs. He could say he needed a little luck, but he believed you made your own luck.
In a little more than an hour they arrived at the Jet Centre at the airport, where someone waited to wave them through to the tarmac. One of the Jet Centre managers walked out to the plane to meet them. He shook hands with Joubert.
“Just wanted to wish you a pleasant flight, Monsieur Joubert,” he said.
“Thank you.” Joubert was sweating and looked a little shaky.
The manager frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re well enough to travel?”
“Yes, yes.” Joubert pasted on a smile. “Business, you know.”
He stood there, looking at Maes and Desmet, obviously waiting for an introduction. Henri, however, at Maes’s direction, kept his mouth shut. Smart man, Maes thought.
“I understand,” the manager said at last. “Sorry your regular pilots got sick and you had to get substitutes.”
Maes watched Henri carefully as he answered. “They must have the same thing I’ve been fighting. I was lucky these men were available.”
The manager looked from Henri to Val to Stefan then back to Henri. Then he dipped his head in a slow nod. “Well, be sure to take care of yourself. And let us know if there is anything we can do to facilitate things for you.” At the sound of car engines, he looked across the tarmac. “Well, I see the rest of your party has arrived.”
Maes looked up to see two limos heading their way across the tarmac.
“Yes, yes.” Joubert forced a smile. “We’ll be leaving shortly.”
“All right,” the manager said at last. “I’ll leave you all to get settled in the plane.”
Joubert looked so shaky that Maes directed Val to help him up into the plane while his crew took care of business.
“He’s all set,” Val told him, jogging back down the stairs.
Maes greeted the men exiting the limousines, all dressed in their signature black. He knew that beneath the loose shirts they wore full body armor to protect them in a firefight.
Dag Raca, first out of the limo, approached him and shook his hand.
“We are ready, my friend.”
“The weapons are packed as requested?”
“Yes. The insulation shields are in place. Once we leave Nassau, we’ll be able to retrieve the guns and be ready to go as soon as we land.”
“Excellent.” Maes nodded. “Let’s board, then. Shall we?”
The men climbed the stairway, each carrying black high-impact resin cases that were, in fact, gun cases designed to masquerade as luggage. And each had been fitted with special, illegal shields to make the contents invisible to scanners. No way were those pieces going in the plane’s luggage compartment.
Maes shook hands with the co-pilot standing by the stairway.
“We’ll love flying this baby,” he told Maes. “Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary. Just do your part.”
Then he also entered the cabin, followed by Val, who carried a messenger case. Poking his head into the cockpit, Maes greeted the other pilot and thanked him for making himself and his co-pilot available.
“It’s always a pleasure flying for you, Mr. Maes. We just wondered why you aren’t using your own plane.”
“We want to surprise some people,” he explained.
The pilot shrugged. He didn’t care. He had flown for Maes for more than five years and seen and done things most pilots didn’t even think of. For what they were paid ,the two men put their morals and scruples in the closet.
Raca stood in the middle of the aisle, chatting with their sniper, Jablan Babic. He turned as Maes entered the cabin, and the two shook hands.
“We are ready,” he confirmed. “All the weapons have been field tested and everyone has their orders.”
“Excellent. And the layout of Princessa Key?”
“Everyone has memorized it.”
Again, Maes nodded. He did not insult the man by asking him if he was sure. These men had been his solid team of mercenaries for fifteen years. Without them, he would never have been able to accomplish half the things he had. Now he was depending on them to help him recapture what he had lost.
Henri Joubert had been strapped into a seat halfway back in the plane. Maes stopped beside him.
“This will all be over soon,” he assured the man.
“I don’t know why you needed me along,” Joubert said. “Surely you could get permission to land at Princessa Key without me.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Maes sighed. “Now, Henri, you know they would insist on speaking with you personally. I am not on their list of approved guests, so you have a very important role to play.”
“And the use of my plane and my helicopter? So, you’d have aircraft with my name and logo on them?”
“Very smart of you.”
“And once we land and they verify that I am with you, I am free to walk away from you? Call my wife? Whatever?”
“Of course.” Not.
“I want you to know,” Joubert told him in an unsteady voice, “that I was against what the others did. I did not want to pull away from Grupa Industrijska.” He wet his lips. “You made a lot of money for me, Stefan. I appreciated it.” He held out his hands, palms up. “But I was helpless, a lone voice in the wilderness. Many times, I’ve started to pick up the phone and call you. Tell you we needed to reconnect.”
Liar.
“I appreciate that, Henri.”
“Perhaps when we get back from this little trip, you can settle things with the others and we can pick up where we left off.”
The man was so pale he looked ready to pass out.
Maes smiled. “Perhaps.” He patted the man’s arm. “Why don’t you close your eyes and rest? I’ll be back here after a while.”
The fear was a living thing in the man’s eyes before he closed them and leaned his head back. An expression of resignation crept over his face, as if he sensed what might be coming.
Maes walked toward the rear of the plane, where Val awaited him in the small conversation area. He settled himself in one of the plush chairs.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he said, and smiled. “A good day to go to a party. Don’t you think?”
* * * *
The sound of an incoming text woke Avery out of a semi-sou
nd sleep. She blinked and looked at her watch. Three a.m. What the hell? She tapped the phone.
“This is probably a stupid question, but you do have a secure video conference-call setup, right?”
Uh-oh. Something was drastically wrong. She scrubbed her face to be sure she was awake and texted back.
“Yes. Can I have my tech people contact you to set it up?”
In seconds the reply came back.
“Call this number for instructions.”
“Hold on. I’ll be right with you.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. If Brian Gould wanted a secure video connection at three in the morning, a big pile of shit was hitting the fan. She thought at once of Justin and Marissa, and a knot formed in her stomach.
Avery lived in a large suite at the back end of the Vigilance building, accessible only through her office. She pulled on a pair of sweat pants and an oversized T-shirt, stuffed her feet into scuffed flats, and unlocked the door into Vigilance proper. The offices never closed. Vigilance was a twenty-four/seven operation, with agents in place all over the world. If she shut down, people were left hanging in dangerous situations.
The building was quiet, all except for the low hum of voices coming from the big tech room near the front. She knocked twice then opened the door. All sixteen computer screens against the far wall were live, monitoring situations her agents were involved in. Only the big video conferencing screen was blank. Johnny Braswell, her nighttime tech crew chief, sat in his specially made leather chair, eyes constantly moving from one screen to another while he sipped on what had to be his tenth soft drink of the shift.
Two other people worked away, heads bent to what they were doing. Hildy Coyle was busy at the massive computer setup, running information, trolling for anything that had to do with whatever cases were in progress. And off to the side, Noel Gardner monitored the security system set up for various clients. On a corkboard facing him were numbers to call if one of those alarms went off.
Vigilance never slept. Hence the name of the agency.
“What’s up?” Johnny asked, setting his drink down on his desk.