Pervade Duet: Pervade London & Pervade Montego Bay

by Vanessa Fewings

  I had to remind myself he was in his twenties. The lines on his face evened out when he slept to make him look younger and more vulnerable. I stared at him for longer than I should, my gaze roaming over his exquisite features and that full mouth. He reminded me of a sleeping Adonis…the God of desire.

  I reined in these foreign yearnings…the shocking thoughts that would turn me from a friend to an enemy. I should be ashamed of myself for thinking such lustful thoughts…

  My lips on his.

  His hand wrapped around my cock as he squeezed me from base to tip. Him sucking my dick as he knelt before me, looking up at me with those blue eyes that told me he was grateful for the chance. Xavier deep-throating me with such skill that he emptied my balls along with my mind.

  Great, I had another reason to hate myself. I’d just saved a man from the clutches of evil and was tempted to take advantage.

  This is insanity.

  An absurd imagining from a straight man. Brushing my fingers through my hair, I shook off these thoughts. This is what exhaustion brings, I reassured myself. It changes your chemistry and messes with your mind.

  Lieutenant Rothschild had the ability to find out who had ruined my life and taken away my one true love. I’d brought Xavier all the way down here to use him.

  And that was bloody well what I intended to do.

  Xavier

  Shielding my eyes against the sun’s bright rays, I stood in wonder for a minute, taking in the stunning view of the sprawling ocean.

  My hands fell by my side as I flexed the tension out of them. My sprained wrist hurt, but keeping it in a sling was slowing me down. I pulled it off and tucked it in my trouser pocket.

  Ballad’s influence was in everything here—from the sophisticated fixtures to the expensive art. Though what really stood out was the extraordinary taste of a woman.

  On the way in, I’d noticed that the paintings all had a nautical theme. There were also photos of sea life. This man loved the ocean and it seemed strange that he’d chosen to leave the Navy for MI6. Becoming a widower had changed his life drastically.

  This grand place was both Colonial and Georgian in style. Victoria’s presence permeated every corner. Lush plants added a cozy touch that made if feel like a home.

  Standing on the porch, I remained awed by the endless blue ocean shimmering beneath the midday sun, promising warmth.

  With an uncanny ease, I processed my surroundings. A coconut tree swayed in the breeze, its leaves forming patterns. A sunflower nearby stretched toward the light, its florets in perfect spirals; 55, 34, and 21, the sequence of Fibonacci. This golden ratio’s astounding functionality proving time and time again it was an essential characteristic of the universe.

  Concentrating in a different way, I tried to view the garden as others would, as merely a lavish display of plants and flowers with an inviting pool that I imagined was heated by the sun. I was tempted to strip off and wade into the sparkling warmth.

  I wasn’t one for prayer, but I prayed now—thanking the universe for getting me out of Colchester.

  How the hell did I end up here?

  Closing my eyes, I tried to squeeze out the memory of when my life had imploded. But it was too late—my mind was back analyzing and data crunching each detail.

  I’d put my life on the line for the truth, which had seen me in Macau with both British and Chinese operatives after my blood. An interesting turn of events—the what-the-fuck kind that took the shine off travel.

  I’d been ill-prepared for field work…something they had counted on, apparently.

  No one would believe my intel that a well-respected senior agent at MI6 was a Russian operative. The man who’d ruined my life was a permanent fixture at Boodles—that gentlemen’s club where he rubbed shoulders with the Prime Minister and other members of Parliament. A Knighthood waited for him when he retired.

  My military career had started with such potential. The Queen’s Commission now seemed like a futile aspiration. My talent was my greatest weakness…my genius the greatest threat to others.

  After that car accident in Macau, I’d had my chance to run. I’d suspected there was a boat waiting. After all, Ballad had been driving at breakneck speed toward the estuary. I’d reasoned that the boat would have enough fuel to get me to Hong Kong.

  But leaving Ballad behind to die hadn’t been an option. I just hoped I’d not live to regret it. There was still the chance he’d use me to garner favor so he could restart his stalling career…

  I pushed these thoughts away and focused on the ocean view to fill my mind with something other than betrayal. This place was extraordinary.

  A red parrot flew low and landed on a post at the end of a wooden dock leading out over the water. It was like someone had designed their dream home to be a paradise.

  I’d craved the vastness of this kind of space after living in the confines of a submarine for a month—right before my life had crashed and burned in Macau. I had no idea how James had made a vocation out of living in those closed quarters.

  He’d blown up his career to help me. Though it was likely that getting revenge for his wife’s death had been his only motivation.

  And there he was, standing barefoot and not that far away on the sand. The spectacular view was enhanced by James Ballad himself. He’d stripped off his shirt and was showing off his ripped abs. His low hung shorts revealed muscular thighs. All this time he’d been hiding that ripped body beneath his combat gear. I knew he was fit but this view highlighted his athletic physique.

  A national hero who’d thrown it all away. He was one thought away from regret, probably.

  He’d set up a badminton net and beside it lay a beach towel. Atop that sat a bottle of sunblock and beside it were two bottles of water—one for me, I assumed. This enduring loneliness lifted when I was around him, my awkwardness lessoning.

  I should be happy with the idea of some much needed R & R. Still, I knew this badminton net and the impending match was him speeding up my rehab. This was him doing the right thing and not throwing me to the dogs back in England. The very cultured and moneyed dogs, no less.

  Soon, I’d be out of Ballad’s thick, dark hair. That hair and clothes of his were an obvious act of rebellion after the time he’d spent in a Navy uniform.

  He caught me staring. “I didn’t want to wake you. Where’s your sling?”

  Twisting my right arm, I let him see I didn’t need it. “Just a sprain.” I walked down the porch steps and joined him. “This is a great place.”

  “I think so.”

  I knelt to retrieve a bottle of water and lifted it in way of politeness.

  “Yes, that’s yours.” He threw in a brilliant smile.

  He had no idea what that did to me—nor would he ever. I knew his type. The alpha arrogance inside that would never allow him to lower his standards to dabble with someone like me. A proud military history to prove he possessed an off-the-scale level of machismo.

  Though we’d had our moments… I’d watched him consider what kissing me would be like. Then came his subtle knee-jerk reaction of self-chastisement for daring to go there.

  “I thought we’d play.” He pointed to the rackets. “If you feel up to it.”

  “Great rehab,” I countered.

  He nodded and then looked off toward the ocean.

  For some reason, the way he’d turned his back on me hurt like hell—like he suddenly regretted having me here.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on the game.” I headed back up the steps and walked into the mansion, quickly making my way to the front entrance. I wasn’t sure where I was going—I just needed some space to think more clearly. Ballad’s dominating presence had messed with my head.

  This crush on him was a curse.

  I yanked open the front door. A hand came around my right side and slammed it shut in my face.

  James pressed his body to mine, trapping me between him and the door. “What was that?” he growled. “You walked aw
ay from me with an attitude?”

  I spun round and leaned back—he was too damn close. His face wore a dangerous expression and his intelligent eyes stared intensely into mine.

  “I know what this is, Ballad.”

  “What exactly do you think this is other than generous hospitality?”

  I gave him an accusatory glare. “Once I’ve told you what you want to know you’ll hand me back to them.”

  “Them?”

  “MI6.”

  His focus moved down to my lips.

  James caught himself and stepped back in a rush. “That’s not the plan.”

  “Forgive me if I’m low on trust.”

  “So us working together to find out who ruined our lives is no longer on the agenda, then?”

  I chewed my lip as I tried to decide if this idea would even work. Once I gave him what he wanted, why would I even matter?

  He looked frustrated. “I wrongly assumed that you wanted your problem resolved. Apparently, you’re a genius. How about engaging that big brain to make yourself useful?”

  “Who told you that about me?”

  “Someone back at MI6.”

  “I’m afraid you’re just like all the others…”

  “I have no idea what the hell that means.” James took several steps back. “If you want to leave, leave.” He turned and headed up the staircase.

  “Where are you going?” I called up.

  “None of your goddamn business.” He made it to the top and disappeared from view.

  Uncertainty dripped from him as thick as the guilt. He blamed himself for Victoria’s death. I imagined something like that would haunt a man. James had seemingly lost his trust in life.

  Maybe in order to save his own career he’d eventually end up sacrificing mine. Men had done far worse.

  Heading up the stairs after him, I followed Ballad into the bedroom and then continued on toward the sound of a shower.

  Great.

  Ballad was wearing nothing but his fury. He’d stripped out of his clothes and was ready to walk into the spacious shower stall.

  “Maybe I should have let you walk out of the house,” he snapped.

  “Maybe I should have insisted.” Do not look below the waist.

  He glared. “Let’s agree to get today over with and we’ll part ways tomorrow. I can have a car take you to the airport. I don’t need to know where the hell you go.”

  “Why the change of plan?”

  “This is—” He gestured toward me and it looked a lot like he was negotiating with himself. “An unconceived idea.”

  Even though that hurt like hell, there was something seductive about the way he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip in contradiction. He was fighting his attraction to me.

  Now that was one hell of a surprise.

  This revelation had me staring in fascination at his turmoil…his cock twitched, betraying him.

  I quickly looked back to James to avoid embarrassing him. Perhaps it was fury that was an aphrodisiac for him. His dick seemed to confirm this as it curled up his abdomen.

  His jaw tightened. “It’s best you leave.”

  My fingers worked the buttons of my shirt and I shrugged out of it, tossing it on the floor. Next, I slipped out of my shoes and then pulled off my trousers and boxers until I was standing naked. I strolled by him and walked into his shower.

  I reached for the unmarked chrome tap that I hoped would turn on the hot water. A burst of heat cascaded from the showerhead and soaked me.

  Ballad loomed behind. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for the cold water.”

  James stepped forward and turned on another tap. “The last thing I need is you getting burned.” The water cooled as it sprayed us in a more temperate downpour.

  “You have a real problem,” he snapped.

  “Your problem is you’re lonely.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “James, on the submarine you wanted off it in the worst way. You once loved that life. It’s the sign of an unsettled mind.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Lately, you’ve had a hard time living with yourself.”

  He stepped away. “I’ll be down the hall in your guest bathroom.”

  Ballad looked as powerful and commanding striding for the door as the first day I’d met him on the submarine.

  I’d misjudged him and I felt like crap for being the awkward guy who makes everyone around him feel a level of disquiet.

  Turning my face into the stream, I closed my eyes to let the water whoosh over me. It crashed against my skin and burst against my limbs. My body acclimated to the pressure hitting each contusion.

  Loneliness found me again.

  I’d misspoken and pushed him away.

  His expression had sent mixed messages, as though he himself wasn’t sure of his desires.

  My brain was firing off at a constant rate, assessing every single interaction I’d ever had with him. Replaying every word from every conversation with every volition to curl the words this way or that in their meaning. What was not being spoken was just as powerful.

  As a child, a neurologist had told me I’d grow out of it—this leaning toward quirky, with a side of genius. As a man it had only gotten worse. They’d labeled me “nature’s Frankenstein”. I’d been eight years old when I’d overheard a medical professor call me that.

  I still felt out of place in the world.

  Caressing my wrist, I tried to soothe the ache from where the guards had dragged me across the room before bashing my head against the wall. Apparently, water torture was still a thing. I’d personally learned how miserable it felt. Part of my ability to cope had been from knowing my enemy back at MI6 would eventually go down in history as being the traitor he was. But only if I could hang onto my sanity.

  Opening my mouth, I let the water fill it to recreate how being suffocated had felt, desensitizing myself so I could face what they’d done to me.

  I jolted at the bang of the bathroom door.

  My back struck the tile when I saw Ballad storm in. His towel dropped from his waist as he rejoined me in the shower, his cock rock hard. Lifting my forearm in front of my face, I braced for his strike.

  He paused right in front of me with his chest heaving. I closed my eyes, expecting to have new bruises added to my collection.

  James yanked down my arm and pain resonated through my wrist. I exhaled in a rush as I braced for more agony.

  Cupping my face with his firm palms to hold me still, Ballad stared into my eyes with a fierceness that warned of harsh words to come, both of us drenched in water as we readied for war.

  “Forgive me,” I said, though unsure why.

  James clenched his jaw as though trying to control his anger. His stern glare snapped to my mouth.

  He crushed his lips to mine in a punishing kiss and his tongue darted into my mouth, searching and tangling with mine for control. I jolted with the shock and tried to pull back, but his hands tightened at my nape to hold me still.

  I wanted to trust it, trust him…

  My mouth opened wider to receive more of this delicious lashing. Familiar sensations of desire and surrender made my cock stiffen as he pressed his body to mine.

  His right hand rose to my scalp and grabbed a fistful of my short hair. My moan echoed into his mouth as I sank into the thrill of feeling his firm chest against mine, his uncompromising strength. My erection nudged his and the sensation felt like life itself. Like everything I’d been through had happened for a reason—it had led to this moment.

  Led me to him.

  He pulled back and glanced down at the sight of our cocks pressed together. “Oh, God.”

  “Well, that was unexpected.”

  “Did I hurt your arm?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m not sure what just happened…”

  “Let me touch you.”

  He watched my palm wrap around his full length and his fac
e showed me the pleasure he was feeling. His jaw slackened and he nodded to let me know he wanted this to continue.

  “Want me to lead?”

  “No.” He broke into a dashing smile as though all the tension was slipping away.

  “How’s this?” I stroked his cock while watching his expression, gauging his reaction, knowing this was a balance between exploration and coaxing.

  Ballad could break out of this trance and pull away. I needed him to stay with me. To trust this. Trust me.

  Kneeling before him, I leaned forward and ran my tongue around the ridges of his balls, lavishing pleasure that made them tighten in my mouth—letting his cock hang with tension, teasing him. He gripped himself to cope with the pleasure. Wrapping my hand over his, I pumped him long and hard and fast and he grimaced as though in pain, but his throaty groan revealed desire.

  My lips met the tip of his head. I opened my mouth wide and slid his cock all the way to the back of my throat as I stared up at him.

  This felt as pure as it got—an unspoken trust, a spectacular intimacy.

  He pressed his hands against the glass of the stall to brace himself as he studied me with intrigue. A flash of affection appeared in his eyes, along with wonder as he watched me deep-throat him until his body was trembling and his breaths were short and sharp, his moans echoing around us.

  He tasted of falling water and pre-cum, his heady cologne evaporating in the steam, his cock filling my mouth with profound dominance.

  The taste of hope and salvation.

  The taste of a truer freedom.

  He gripped the back of my head and forced me to go faster and take him deeper. My moan resonated around his girth, making him quiver. He needed to remain in control. To know all the power was still his to command.

  I pulled back and pushed to my feet

  “I’m not ready for…” He looked uncertain.

  “When the time comes you can fuck me.”

  “When the time comes?”

  “We need lube.”

  “Right. I don’t have it.”