by Gennita Low
He could sense her thoughts. It was amazing. They hadn’t anticipated that when they’d planned to add the synchronized brainwave experiment as part of TIVRRV.
Totally immersive indeed. He still couldn’t decide whether it was a fair exchange, that he was able to remote view through her, sense her experience through her, and she, on the other hand, was able to move into his subconscious and participate in his dreams. And he was aware that his dreams betrayed his feelings more than anything else, because every dream he had when he sensed her presence was about his desire for her.
It was not enough, though. He didn’t want just the virtual part of her, or dream-fucking her, or watching her romp around the pool naked. He wanted to be alone with her—man and woman—in a bedroom, all to himself, with no technology or serum enhancing the experience.
His lips twisted. Too late for that, McNeil. Everything, as usual, was ass backwards.
One day he would get back to normal.
Jed looked at the control panels in front of him and a rueful smile crept onto his lips. Getting back to normal? With a woman who could spy with her mind? With a woman who joined in his sexual fantasies when they were asleep? He shook his head, slightly bemused by his own thoughts. What was he thinking?
He had been having some strange ideas lately. When emotions got in the way, he did what he did best—compartmentalize.
If he stopped viewing his assignment as part of his job, there would be more complications than it would be worth. Lives could be put at risk. He’d learned that lesson a few times in this lifetime.
In comparison, in many ways, Elena was a fledgling in the cloak-and-dagger world. Her two years away from field experience had also made her vulnerable emotionally. Killer instinct was usually the first to go. He had to be careful and not give her too many choices, especially in the beginning.
Sexual desire was an important part of an intimate bond, but so was trust. It surprised him that she wasn’t fighting him as hard as he’d thought she would. One punch. Probably more coming later. But there was no deep hatred or hysteria, powerful emotions that could weaken any imprinting process.
Elena definitely wasn’t acting revolted or disgusted. That meant what they’d intimately shared didn’t revolt or disgust her. He found that oddly pleasing.
“Activate program,” he instructed softly.
Chapter Eleven
It was like standing in a huge spotlight on center stage. Except there wasn’t an audience waiting for her performance. She stood there, waiting.
And on cue, he suddenly appeared, timing impeccable. Hades.
Helen grinned. She couldn’t help it. When a delicious naked man, sleek and sensuous, sauntered toward a girl, and he was all hers in that place and time, there was just so much self-control a healthy female had. Her libido didn’t seem to care that said male was also a computer-generated avatar.
She went up to him, eyeing his body appreciatively. One would think that now that she knew the face behind the avatar, it would be less exciting to watch a naked man. Not so. It made everything brand new, more exciting, even. The real man behind the controls was far, far more intriguing.
They met in the middle somewhere, still in that spotlight. The few times they’d done this, he had activated different scenes, once using the virtual image of a room that looked the same as the VR room in which she’d learned remote viewing, and the last time, he’d recreated her quarters to the last detail, reminding her how he’d come to her that one memorable night.
She knew him well enough by now to understand what he was trying to do. He wanted her to anticipate his next move, to wonder, and thus keep her mind on him. It was essential because of the brainwave synchronization going on.
She cocked her head. “Hades or Jed?”
“Does it matter?”
The man before her was a blond god, created by the newest virtual programming technology. She had had a hand it. At first, Derek had produced a really buffed up version of the caveman type, and that wasn’t anything like the way she’d envisioned the perfect male, so she’d fiddled with the program and voila! A dream man, virtually hers.
Did it matter what she called him? “No. Yes.”
“You sound undecided.”
She changed the subject. “Shouldn’t we get started?” She looked around her. “Where’s the scenery?”
“We have time while our brainwaves get in sync.” He stepped closer. “Do we really need any scenery?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Do you think, now that I know what you’re up to, that I’d let you seduce me so easily?”
“Yes.”
“What, you just snap your fingers and my body will magically obey?”
His smile indicated an arrogance used to compliance. Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re asking for another punch,” she warned, “and that’s not going to help with the brainwave syncing going on, what with me in a mood to kick your ass. Unless, I can make you pissed off too?”
Jed McNeil pissed off? Every time she’d seen him, he was downright cold-blooded. Did the man even feel anything?
But he did. Her mind mocked her with a sexy memory of him pushing deep inside her as he climaxed. He’d growled out something and had kissed her till she was breathless. His heart beating rapidly against hers as he lay on top of her. His soft words spoken against her ear, words that had turned her on.
“I want more of you,” he’d told her before starting all over again.
She shivered at the heat of that memory. She turned away from the naked avatar.
“I want more. It’s all been virtual or in darkness or some kind of mind meld sex,” she said. It was everything a woman like her should abhor. But there was no denying that he had used it to intrigue her and she’d found it seductive. Defensively, she tossed a shrug, and said over her shoulder, “What, don’t you think the real thing with me would live up to your fantasies? You know, there can’t be any real bonding without real intimacy. And no, the other night doesn’t count because you came to me when I wasn’t ready.”
“You were ready,” he drawled in that lazy Southern voice that she’d given him. “And it was me in the dark, not your fantasy of a blond Adonis. You responded to me, not some visual sex candy.”
She should have thought about making him look like some hairy ogre with Darth Vader’s voice. He laughed softly, reminding her that he was able to catch images of her thoughts.
“What makes you think that would stop me from touching you?” he asked.
“But I wouldn’t be turned on,” she retorted.
“Tsk. Shallow.”
She shrugged. The bait had been giving her the power to create an image. She’d taken it and created something she’d personally find attractive.
“I’m not into ogres,” she said. “If I were, then you wouldn’t look so pretty right now. What I’m saying is, had I known, I wouldn’t have fiddled with that program, and you would still look like Derek’s version of Tarzan of the Big Man Boobs.”
He laughed again. Her own lips curved up reluctantly and she added, “I know, I know. This is a ridiculous conversation.”
He came up behind her. “You forgot something.”
“What?”
“That I’m turned on by you.” His hands settled on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “That I’m dreaming of having sex with you. There’s nothing virtual or Hades about that.”
Helen blinked in surprise. She hadn’t had time to process what was happening to her to think of all the possibilities. She had been too busy nursing her bruised ego at having been tricked.
But her subconscious hadn’t been. In fact, it had somehow sought out the culprit and tried to tell her, at every possible turn, who was behind the avatar. Only, she’d been too busy with the physical aspects that she’d ignored her strength—her instinct.
He wanted her. Not just as someone to seduce, because people didn’t dream about doing erotic, sexy stuff to someone if they weren’t turned on by that
someone in the first place. Dammit, it felt good to that bruised ego to know that she could turn him on too.
“You do turn me on, Elena. In my sleep, I dream of doing you in every way imaginable. But you already know that, don’t you? I know you want more, and I was going to let you have your way with me tonight before we were interrupted. So you’ll just have to make do with another virtual date.”
She felt his hand slide over her breast and sucked in her stomach at the sudden heat of his touch on her bare flesh. She frowned and looked down. Her eyes widened at the sight of a familiar red bustier. The very same one that she’d seen earlier while she was trying to remote view on her own. Her breasts strained against the neatly tied bows. The thong was a mere scrap of cloth, not much protection from his hand.
She made a sound of disgust. “I thought that stupid garment was torn to pieces! You can’t use the same cheap slut suit on me twice!”
Before she even finished her sentence, the red bustier had morphed. She was now wearing a hot pink number, the décolletage so low and tightly held together, her breasts were in danger of popping out. In fact, she could see her nipples… Glitter caught her eye. She shrieked.
“Tassels! You…gave me tassels!”
“You said slut suit,” he reminded her, laughter tingeing his voice.
Helen struggled half-heartedly, distracted by his amusement and the sight of his tanned hand sliding lower. She reached behind her and circled his arousal. It was hard and ready. There were a few moments of silence as their hands imitated each other’s teasing.
“When we’re into each other like this is when we’re most in sync. We don’t need any setting. Just you and me, giving each other pleasure, thinking of what we’re doing to each other.”
Thinking? There was no thinking at this point. All she could do was emit a groan. She widened her stance.
“Swivel your hips for me like you were doing,” he whispered in her head. “Slowly.”
“I’m not. Swiveling. My hips. Ooooh!”
He’d simply pulled the strip of thong aside. His intimate touch was unerringly on target.
Helen bit down on her lower lip. She could feel herself getting wet and she couldn’t help but wonder if in real life, her panties were getting wet too.
Couldn’t think. Not when those fingers traced slow circles that were driving her crazy, making her unconsciously grind her hips, trying to make him go faster. A part of her—a tiny, tiny part that was left of her ability to think—noted that every time she tried to analyze her situation, he made sure to stop her from doing so.
“I don’t like the ribbons,” he murmured. “In my way. I want your breasts free from clothing. Yeah, like that. I like the tassels. I like the way they sway every time you swivel your hips.”
Parts of her clothing disappeared and rearranged before Helen’s eyes, like one of those crazy supernatural movies with lots of CGI. Her corset became some sort of push-up contraption, giving her a view of her own nipples like never before, then the tassels reappeared and she shrieked again. This time they were weighted, their swaying pulling heavily at her nipples.
Hades’ legs widened her stance and he pushed her forward, his fingers relentlessly chasing her pleasure. She gasped as his erection slid between her legs and he undulated. He slid a wet finger inside her.
Helen closed her eyes. His fingers. His hips moving hers back and forth. The swaying of the weighted tassels massaging her nipples. The pleasure was sharp. Focused. She could hear her heartbeat thundering, and in the background, the soft echo of his following hers. The slide of his fingers slowed down; the pleasure building inside her spreading like wildfire. She swiveled her hips and moaned softly at the feel of his penis probing her tantalizing heat.
“It’s time to go to our intruder’s hideout, Elena. Checkered flag.”
She could only moan her protest when she heard his soft command. She’d known it was coming—the trigger code that started the RV process when their brainwaves hit simultaneous theta.
“Don’t stop…”
“I feel your pleasure, Elena. Your body is soft and pliant against mine right now. So wet I want to turn you over and spread your legs—”
Not knowing whether he was carrying out his promises never failed to push the excitement ratio way up. She had never known a man who could undo her like that, just with words.
Helen felt a delicious shudder through her body as his fingers brought her ever closer to orgasm, her need to come locking his consciousness to hers as her mind obeyed the embedded trigger and hurtled into the ether.
It surprised Jed how quickly he was growing used to her. The real Elena was funny, quirky, and spontaneous—something he wasn’t—and he’d thought that she’d find it difficult to be in a controlled environment with him. Yet she’d adapted quickly. Not without a fight, and he was sure, not without future retaliation, but she had come along once she’d figured out what was going on.
She was amazing.
It also surprised him how easily she turned him on. His response wasn’t, like he’d thought, just visceral or sexual. Not any more, anyway. He was attracted by the woman herself. Plus, being able to remote view along with her was exciting. Twenty years in this business and there had been some crazy advances in spy technology, and he was hooked to this remote viewer.
As she bilocated—the moment the mind was said to disengage from the physical plane—he experienced that floating sensation, similar to skydiving. There were random colors and shapes floating around, as if his mind was moving through time and space before settling on the agreed targeted coordinates.
And then they were there—wherever that was. Did she even understand how amazing it was to be able to do that?
It was difficult to explain even to himself how he was there, and yet not. His brain wasn’t confused at all, though. With his eyes open, there was Elena in his arms, suspended in virtual reality. With his eyes closed, there he was seeing another place through Elena’s mind.
During their first session, when he’d first experienced this, it had taken him a few minutes to adjust mentally and physically. He’d prepared himself but it was still difficult to suspend the initial mental disbelief that it was happening, and even as he told himself to not think about what was happening, to just experience it for what it was, his mind refused to stop analyzing.
Perception was oddly uncontrolled, for instance. That made it even more difficult to adjust. It was all somebody else’s viewpoint. It was a strange thing to turn his head and still see the same angles. His brain initially rebelled against the “logic”, and he had to stop the urge to open his eyes.
He’d since learned to control the urge to fight it. Like watching a movie, right? Observe. Take it in. Then, and only then, analyze. It made it easier to let go.
He heard the roar of the race car engine. That meant Elena’s consciousness had started the remote-viewing process. Some remote-viewing programs taught their trainees to use a “vehicle” to control the way they gather information. This helped, especially the beginners, to not be overwhelmed by the senses. He’d been told that one could wander around in the ether without a “vehicle”, but there was less control, and the viewer wouldn’t remember as much.
From his studies of the subject, the most used mode of observation was usually an electronic vehicle, such as a camera or a digital recorder, something with which the viewer was familiar. He’d smiled when he’d learned that hers was a race car. Perfect. Elena and high speed went hand in hand.
Through her eyes, he looked at the cockpit of her “car”. They told him that as the viewer became more experienced, their vehicle became more “real” to them, with their subconscious adding little details that only the owner would do. A fuzzy pair of purple rabbit’s feet dangled from the rearview mirror. Purple rabbit’s feet as décor? He curbed the urge to ask her about it. Not the time. But he was sure there was a story behind that if Elena felt so strongly that she brought them into her subconscious.
Wha
t was Elena needing luck for? From his observation of her all these months, she’d rarely displayed any fear in all her challenges. The real woman underneath all that muscle and cockiness held secrets that he wanted to explore, but to do that, he had to find time outside the mission.
Elena’s voice interrupted his train of thought. “We’re here,” she announced. “Are you with me?”
A small smile curved his lips. She was always challenging him. She knew damn well he was with her. He could feel her awareness of him, her need and desire fueling that mental connection. She was frustrated, still reeling from wanting to come, and mad that even in the ether, she wanted him to continue caressing her.
He would never tell her but her feelings tortured him too. It was so tempting to just let go and let their mutual attraction take them to the ultimate conclusion, but he knew if they did that the mission wouldn’t be completed for a long, long time because they would just be having one long bout of virtual sex. Not that he wasn’t interested in exploring that with her.
But the urgency of finding the mystery intruder reminded Jed to always put the job first. The danger the intruder represented was real. He knew there was a correlation there with Elena’s problem, but he hadn’t been able to connect the dots yet, and he was determined to. Something told him that if he didn’t, the problem was going to get bigger than just a need for sexual gratification as a side effect for Elena down the road.
So, no climax for them both till he had more control of himself. He could just imagine how absorbed they would be in each other’s senses that he would put their safety at risk.
“I hate it when you’re silent like that,” Elena interrupted again. “Stop teasing!”
Jed sensed her thinking about his hand inside that scrap of thong, wondering whether he was still playing with her.
Teasing Elena was becoming a habit. “I’m changing the program over here,” he told her, “so when you come back, you’ll be bent over in a special chair and I’ll be inside you, fucking you senseless.”