Matthew lowered one of his arms and reached in under the waistband of his boxers, fisting his erection. He briefly let go to push the restricting material down around his hips, settling his fingers around his cock again. He didn’t have any lube, but he’d be quick enough without it. He pictured Ereshkigal’s thick bush and moved his hand steadily up and down his length. He imagined her wet and ready, and quickened his motion.
She had slammed down on him so hard and wrapped around him so tightly, he couldn’t remember the last time sex had been so much to his liking. She’d held nothing back and liked it rough, just like him. Less than a minute passed while he stroked himself, and his balls tightened up into his body. Matthew thought about the moment Ereshkigal had bitten his nipple with her taunting white smile. He tugged one last time and shot off, groaning at the release.
As his breathing settled, he gave out a small curse. He’d sprayed all over his chest and belly and neglected to have something nearby to clean himself up. Matthew slipped his boxers all the way down, off his ankles, and used the material to mop his wet skin. He tossed the used garment into a corner, and closed his eyes. He’d discard it in the trash later. Right now, a short nap was in order.
Sometime later, his alarm woke him out of a disturbing dream. And thank God. His body was awash in sweat, quivering even as he cleared the fog of his brain. Matthew’s heart raced. What had made him have a nightmare like that?
In his nocturnal imaginings, his new boss had him trussed tightly over a wooden sawhorse, bare ass up, lightly tapping his skin while she strapped on a huge pink dildo. She had taunted him about where it would go. Matthew had never been a fan of the strap-on, and this one had been aimed at him. He patted his alarm with a shaking hand, thanking it for bringing him back to reality. His sphincter still clenched in horror, thinking about what might have happened…even if in a dream.
Was his subconscious trying to warn him that Ereshkigal could not be trusted? If so, it made a very good showing.
After a few minutes, Matthew realized his dick remained unreasonably hard after the threat of an ass-fucking. How was that possible? He took a deep breath and thought hard. Bits of the dream from before Ereshkigal’s interest in a strap-on toy popped into his head, and he sighed with relief. He’d had the goddess up against a rock wall and had been balls deep in her soft warmth. That was the reason for his cock-stand. He wasn’t into the submissive thing; he was one hundred percent sure. Matthew headed for the bathroom and a quick, cold shower.
Half an hour later, he stood in an alley in Northampton, waiting with his crew until he received the “okay” from his man out front. The window they had picked to breach was ridiculously easy to remove, and within seconds, they had the frame out and had crawled in. So simple. Now came the hard part.
Matthew had chosen his team carefully, selecting the most computer savvy amongst his Plymouth group. They had been shown the picture of the gods in the paper, and now would hack into everything on the office computers to see if they could get more frames from the same shoot.
Matthew took one terminal, and two of his men sat at others. The third member carefully rifled through file cabinets and desks. They didn’t want anyone to know the office had been compromised. The gods remained paranoid enough about their safety without Matthew pointing a helpful finger at a weakness in their surveillance.
It approached three in the morning when one of the men finally yelled out in triumph. “I’ve got something, boss.”
Matthew rose from his seat and peered over the man’s shoulder. Sure enough, it was the cold-looking bastard from the ad, and he gazed adoringly at a dusky-skinned woman, soaking wet in street clothes, being drawn up in his arms from the water. The look in his eyes was mirrored in hers. And check out the woman’s lips. Matthew would put money down that the big immortal had just been kissing her. If this wasn’t a god and his Chosen, dammit, he deserved to be fucked up the ass.
“That’s it.” He clapped his underling on the back. “Good job. Print me one of those and see if there are more.”
“I’ve looked through everything else. There are others from the same day, but they’re all of people who are obviously models. There are no guys as big as this one—or the man you called Anshar—in any of the other shots.”
“What about the girl?” Matthew inquired. He looked closer and thought she was shaped like a model; no hips, no tits, but the nose was too big to be considered pretty. “She’s in clothes rather than a bathing suit. That leads me to believe she’s part of the crew.” He turned to the guy at the other computer. “Bring up the employee files and see if you can match her.” He bent over and lifted the picture off the machine where it had just been printed, and held it up to the glow of the screen.
“I’ve seen that woman already.” Matthew’s minion started scrolling through things rapidly. “I’m not sure where, but…” He stopped midsentence and raised his eyes to meet Matthew’s, then grinned.
His hands moved from the keyboard toward a group of frames on the desk, lifting one up and slowly turning it around for Matthew’s perusal.
There she was. The lady in question stood with her arms around an older woman, smiling into the camera.
What luck.
“This is her desk. Let’s have a look around and see if we can get a name and address on our mystery woman.” Matthew was gleeful.
It was child’s play from that point. Numerous letters addressed to Gloria Wingfeather lay on the desk, and once they had her name, they broke into the employee database and retrieved everything else they needed to know.
Matthew congratulated himself as they replaced the rear window of the office and left, creeping silently back down the alley. He had thought the reconnaissance would be a cinch, and he’d been right. The bigger problems started now. The gods were smart, and would surely be keeping an eye on Gloria since she had Chosen status. Matthew would just have to be smarter. He smiled and formulated a plan.
Ereshkigal had let him know Erra was out of town for a few days, but due back this afternoon. The god’s absence had made this excursion possible. Matthew’s boss would be extremely displeased to find out he still targeted Chosen. He therefore had to find a way out from under Erra’s constant surveillance once the war god returned.
Order of operations? Get rid of Erra. Make a trip to Agawam.
Chapter Ten
Enten sat quietly frozen on a bench outside Glory’s office, waiting for her. After hours of arguing and threatening Marduk―and with the help of Tess, who’d reminded her stubborn husband about the call of a god to his Chosen―he’d finally been given his turn guarding her, as long as he could lure her someplace off the beaten path where the human PP couldn’t blend in with the crowd and sight a possible god.
“Enten?” Glory emerged from her building and stopped dead, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she eyed him like he’d played the starring role in of all her sexual fantasies over the past ten days. He looked down at himself. Was it possible she liked him in these damned tight jeans? If so, the ball pain they gave him could be endured. Or maybe the black, leather boots did the trick for her. He thought he remembered reading somewhere that women liked men in boots.
Enten stood up, and smiled. “Glory,” he spoke cautiously, remembering how Tess had warned him not to be overbearing. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m here.” He tried to dim the normally icy light in his eyes.
“I love that you’re here…I mean, I’m happy you came.” She seemed to stumble over her words, but squared her shoulders and took a more determined stance. With a deep breath, Glory walked closer, stood on tiptoes to brush her warm lips over the coolness of his cheek, before standing back, blushing.
Enten gulped, stunned. After their long kissing session in the cabana on Rainsford, Glory had exhibited some attraction to him, but he figured it might have been the, uh, heat of the moment. He had assumed once they separated, she would cool off…or warm up without him near. Now, she indicated she had missed him. He took that p
ositive sign, and quickly blurted out his reason for visiting. He felt like a teenager, tongue-tied and unsure.
“I know this is spur of the moment, but could you take the day off with me? My bike is parked around the corner, and if you agree, we can pick up lunch and have a picnic.” Enten had found a spot north of the city called Conway Station. It was infrequently found by tourists and held the ruins of a small station for the defunct New York-New Haven-Hartford railroad line, now surrounded by trees and accessible only by dirt road. A picturesque river offered shallow swimming, and numerous old stone footings of the original railroad bridge rose over the water where they could perch and eat lunch. It fit the bill perfectly for the isolated location Marduk had suggested.
“You know what?” she said breathlessly. “I deserve some time off. Let me pop back in and tell the crew I’ll be taking a mental health day.” She opened the door, turning her head to him. “I’ll be right back.” She scooted into her office.
Glory didn’t invite him in. Her staff would be curious about him, and perhaps she hesitated to have a big deal made over their going off together. He’d have liked her to introduce him, acknowledge that she felt more for him than a casual acquaintance, but he’d be patient. At least she’d agreed to go with him on a picnic.
He took her absence as an opportunity to retrieve his motorcycle from where he’d left it behind a dumpster. He’d ridden it into Northampton, invisible. Gauging where he would turn corporeal again, and had hidden so no passers-by would witness his sudden emergence from the mists. He acquired the bike again, became embodied, and wheeled it out.
His ride today, a sweet, vintage 1950s bike, modified to seat two, had a classic feel instead of the sleek speed demons the other gods favored. He was glad he’d chosen it. The old champ would take to the back roads they’d be traveling like it had been born to them.
He waited, straddling the seat, extra helmet in hand, as Glory skipped from her office. She eyed the bike and grinned. “I’ve never been on one before,” she admitted. “This is going to be fun.”
She easily climbed on the back, securing her helmet, but not hesitating to lean forward and wrap her arms around Enten’s middle. Even though he knew she had to feel an immediate blast of cold against her chest through the thin shirt she wore, she still trilled in excitement.
“Oh my God. This is sinful,” she exclaimed.
Enten found himself smiling. “Point me in the direction of your apartment…or house.” He knew she had an apartment. The gods who’d followed her told him, but she’d be freaked out if she knew of his awareness.
“Apartment,” she answered, guilelessly. “It’s just a few streets away.”
Over his shoulder, he said, “You’ll need jeans and shoes.” Looking pointedly at the delicate sandals that showed off her elegant, long toes, Enten wanted to suck every one. He pried his mind away from that picture. “Do you own a leather jacket?” He’d donned his the minute he’d gotten on the bike, and wouldn’t risk road rash for Glory.
“No leather.” She paused thoughtfully. “But I have one that’s thick denim.”
Enten shook his head. He’d let her wear a cloth jacket for the first few miles of the trip, but for the majority of their travels, he would make sure she was fully covered.
His original plan had been to grab food at the Miss Florence Diner, but Enten quickly changed his path toward the Bluebonnet. That would lead him up Route 5 and 10 to a nice leather shop in Hatfield. Once Glory got outfitted, it became a direct shot from there to Conway Station. He patted himself on the back that he’d spent his last few days scouting the area for all contingencies.
They pulled up in front of a brick apartment building. Glory really did live right around the corner from her office. Enten thought about parking the bike and joining her, but made the decision to wait on the street while she retrieved what she needed. If he took her up on her offer to go inside, it was possible their picnic would never happen. And he’d scare her off for good. Better to take things slowly, and have her learn to trust him, even though he’d eventually frighten her away from him―at least physically―with a winter god’s version of sex.
Glory came out of the building, her incredibly long legs encased in tight jeans, her red canvas high-tops back on her feet. As he had imagined, the jacket clung to her lean frame evocatively, but would afford little protection should there be a need.
He reminded himself not to be heavy handed. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stop at a leather shop and pick you up some proper attire.” Before she could argue, he continued, “It’s not just for you. I need to keep one with the bike as standard equipment. I don’t like having passengers who aren’t well protected from the elements.”
As Enten planned, there was nothing Glory could say to that. It was his bike, and he made the rules. He just hoped she appreciated that he’d asked. She gave in graciously.
“Sure. I guess that makes sense.” She swung her leg over the bike and eased her body up close to him again. Enten really liked that.
They made the short trip to the diner, and once there, ordered a little of everything Glory liked—which seemed to be a lot of food, but Enten liked a good eater—and headed north, out of the city.
****
Glory had little reason to wander outside of Northampton proper, so she had no clue where they were going. She had been born and brought up in the Worcester area, halfway between her current home and Boston, and had only been here for two years. She guessed this road led to Shelburne Falls because it was the only beautiful tourist place she knew of. She’d brought an old school chum there last summer and enjoyed the Bridge of Flowers and the glacial potholes. She wouldn’t mind seeing it again with Enten, but right now, snuggled up to his delicious chill in the heat of the day, she just wished the bike trip would go on forever.
All too soon, Enten pulled the bike into a small parking lot, and she was forced to unwrap herself from his cool body. Glory hoped the next leg of the trip would be longer. She really liked the excuse to snuggle, and Enten smelled so damned good. Like a winter pine forest.
Speaking of smells, the tang of leather assailed her senses as soon as they opened the door to the air-conditioned store. Enten seemed to know just what he wanted, and after approaching and conferring with the owner, Glory was brought several styles to try on, all of which looked far superior to any clothing she had purchased in a very long time.
She didn’t lament that fact. All of her discretionary money went to support her mother in the care facility she’d chosen. It was what it was.
Before she could protest, and much to her embarrassment, Glory also found her size-nine foot being measured and fitted with stunning black, heeled boots sporting silver rings on the side. They felt soft, like butter, and she’d never owned anything so nice in her entire life. She was mortified when Enten told the clerk they’d take them…without giving her a choice. It was high-handed of him, but in a sweet way, so Glory bit her tongue to keep from protesting the extravagance.
Still, to spite him, she purposely avoided ogling the equally soft, black jacket she was most drawn to out of the bunch she’d tried on, and instead picked a utilitarian style that would suit a variety of riders and would be of more use to him.
It was a huge surprise to her, when they approached the register, that the jacket of her dreams was the one thrust into her hands. Glory could only gawk at the amount of cash Enten turned over. Apparently acrobats made a shit-load of money.
They walked outside, with Glory still unable to speak, and Enten stuffed her old things into his saddlebags. She didn’t know whether to thank him, or berate him for spending so much. She settled on a little of each.
“Enten, I can’t thank you enough for the beautiful boots, but after I use them, you need to store them with the jacket for future riders.”
He met her eyes squarely, and simply quirked a lip at her. “I would, but I don’t know another woman who can boast a size nine boot. I’m afraid they won’t do
anybody but you any good. Besides,” His eyes did that crystal twinkly thing again. “I hope you’ll be taking a lot of rides with me.”
Her heart fluttered. Would Enten invite her to spend more time with him once he knew more about her? She had a hell of a past, and not all guys would be able to take it. Glory made a decision; she’d give Enten her life story—albeit abridged—over lunch and see if he would be scared away.
They got back on the bike. Glory liked everything about it so far and couldn’t wait until Enten showed her some of the power he’d boasted the antique motorcycle was capable of. She’d seen the size of the engine; it had to have some decent pick-up.
They got back onto the main route, and he opened the bike up. Far from disappointed, she felt like she was flying. And when they cornered, Glory found she leaned naturally with him, becoming a part of his body and the bike at the same time. It was exhilarating.
They eventually left the bigger road for a series of small ones that wound their way through lush countryside, small hamlets, and breathtaking scenery. She had no idea where they traveled, and the thought excited her. She rubbed her nose up against Enten’s shoulder and inhaled the smell of his leather jacket. It had been part of him so long, it was a well-aged teaser that, when layered with Enten’s crisp, pine-forest-in-winter smell, had all of her synapses firing.
Glory hunkered snugly warm in her new jacket, yet the cooling balm of Enten’s body ensured she didn’t overheat. It was a heady mixture, like air conditioning and thick, down comforters. The combination defied explanation, but she liked it a lot.
Enten turned the bike onto a dirt road and Glory, wrapped snugly around him, took the “move as one” edict to a whole new extreme. Once or twice, accidentally on purpose, she’d let her hands slide and move to his lap. She knew from those little forays that his impressive cock lay hard in his jeans. His clipped, muffled groans and barely perceptible shivers of delight showed how much he enjoyed her not-so-innocent forays.
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