Sundown, International: Duty & the Beast

by Cat Marsters

  Sundown, International: Duty & the Beast

  Cat Marsters

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Cat Marsters

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  ISBN (10) 1-59596-587-4

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-587-5

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  Changeling Press LLC

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  Editor: Sheri Ross Fogarty

  Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Prologue

  She was busty and young, her olive skin and dark hair gleaming with health. When she peeled off her skin-tight shirt and thrust her lacy D-cups at him, Finn nearly choked on his coffee.

  “Uh,” he managed, trying not to stare at the beautiful swell of her breasts.

  “The door is locked,” she said, unzipping her skirt. Her underwear was matching -- lacy and skimpy. “No one will disturb us.”

  “Well,” Finn put down his coffee on top of the essay he’d foolishly believed she wanted to discuss. Clearly, he hadn’t been suppressing very well lately. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but really it’s not necessary.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Do you like an audience?”

  “Er, no.” He tried to banish the thought of having sex on stage in the lecture theatre. “What I mean is, you don’t -- we’re not going to -- oh, Christ.”

  She was unhooking her bra. Her breasts were magnificent.

  “I don’t want anything from you,” she assured him eagerly. “I’m not looking for you to raise my grade or anything. I just want to be with you.” She ran her palm over her plump nipples. “Naked.”

  “Uh,” Finn said again, seeing his tenure swirling down the drain. Dammit, he’d been too long without a woman if he couldn’t put her off at all.

  “I’ve been dreaming about you,” she said earnestly, while he tried to remember her name. Emma? Ella? Anna?

  “Well, you know, dreams have lots of different meanings,” Finn said, mesmerised by the gentle sway of her breasts as she rolled her stockings down her legs. Annie? Danni? Fanny? Hell, probably. “Perhaps you should be talking to the psychology department.”

  “But I don’t want the psychology department,” Sanni/Sally/Polly said. “I just want you.”

  She was nearly naked now but for a pure white lace thong that was perfectly offset against her dusky skin. Finn felt sweat break out on his forehead. Not to mention the definite response his cock was having to all this nubile young flesh on display.

  “Well, that’s very sweet of you,” he said, trying to be cheerful, “but it’s really not all that appropriate. After all, I’m your professor, and you’re my student, and you know, the university frowns on that sort of thing --”

  “Oh, but I won’t tell,” Dolly/Dora/Nora said earnestly. She slid the thong down over her perfect buttocks, her thighs, down the impeccable lean curves of her legs, and onto the floor. Her breasts swung as she straightened. “Besides,” she said, standing before him totally naked, “we’re both adults.”

  “Yes,” Finn said, his voice a little higher than he’d have liked, “some of us more than others.”

  A feline smile took over her face. “And after all,” she said, bearing down on him, “what harm can it do for us to give each other a little pleasure?”

  Her lips framed the word beautifully. Finn’s cock certainly agreed with her, even while his head was yelling, No, no, it’ll all end badly. Remember Harvard and all the lawsuits. Sooner or later you’ll run out of universities. You’ve got to stop letting them seduce you!

  Cora/Laura/Maura was licking her lips now, falling to her knees. Finn reached for the phone to call for help. After all, if he made a call and told them there was a student making inappropriate suggestions to him, and he was still fully dressed, and she was naked, then who were they going to suspect?

  Maureen/Colleen/Collette was unfastening his fly now, and Finn couldn’t quite manage to make his hands stop her. He gripped the phone determinedly and tried to remember the number for the college porter.

  Right now he could barely remember his own name.

  After all, the voice in his head said, you don’t try very hard to stop them from seducing you. Look at you now, cock out, all hard and ready for her. You’re hardly crying rape, now, are you?

  Well, it was true, he wasn’t. A gorgeous girl was determined to pleasure him and Finn couldn’t quite bring himself to stop her. The thing was, he spent so much time suppressing his natural pheromones that every now and then it just built up and he couldn’t refuse a direct offer.

  Linette/Lindy/Cindy wrapped her hand around his cock.

  “I’m not going to raise your grade,” he said, admitting defeat and letting his head drop back against the chair.

  “I don’t want you to,” she said happily, and bent her head to suck just as the phone he was holding started to ring.

  “Oh, dear God,” Finn mumbled as her hot, wet mouth enveloped him. His hand squeezed the phone convulsively, and then all of a sudden a tinny voice was saying, “Dr. McCready? Dr. McCready? Are you all right?”

  Finn’s eyes bugged out. Crap, he’d hit the ‘answer’ button. “Er, yes,” he said, and tried to push Mindy/Mandy/ Candy’s head away from his groin. With a little noise of dissatisfaction, she sucked him deeper.

  “Oh… all right.” The voice was female, but he was currently too distracted to take notice of anything else about it. “I am Detective Angeletti. I have been given your name by a representative of the Sundown, Inc. agency in London. I believe you can help me on a police matter.”

  Sandy/Sondra/Rhonda was licking his balls now. Finn tried to focus. “Sundown?”

  “Yes. You are an expert on ancient and obscure languages, yes?”

  She had an accent, one of those very sexy European ones that make the words sound as if they’ve been rolled around in the mouth before being purred aloud.

  “Uh, yes,” he said, momentarily distracted. “Languages and cultures --” His voice rose as Ronnie/Connie/Bunny enthusiastically deep-throated him. “Yep,” he squeaked, his voice still far too high to sound normal, “I’m your man.”

  The girl -- what the fuck was her goddamn name? -- looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, her lips stretched wide around the head of his throbbing cock. She rubbed those wonderful breasts of hers all over his balls.

  “Good, then I hope you can help me. Would it be at all possible…”

  Her voice faded away as Honey/Peaches/Bananas, whoever the hell she was, sucked him so far down her throat that her tongue tickled his balls. Finn’s vision went fuzzy. Lights exploded. Visions of the gods swam before his eyes.

  “…do you think?”

  Fisting handfuls of silky dark hair as she gave him the best blow job of his considerably long life, Finn tried hard not to pant. “What, sorry?”

 
“I said…”

  But it was no good. He was about to come, and by all the gods it was going to be a good one. Finn managed to hit the silence button on the phone before he exploded down Fruity’s throat with a loud yell. She sucked down every last drop, then looked up at him with swollen, shiny lips and heavy-lidded eyes.

  “Mmm,” she said, her little pink tongue licking away the last drops of his come. “I want more of that.”

  Finn nodded dreamily. So did he, funnily enough. He turned vaguely to the phone in his hand. What had she been saying? This was going to be embarrassing. “I’m sorry, Detective Thingummy, but I wasn’t listening. You see, I was busy having an incredible blow job. Could you repeat that?”

  No. Maybe not.

  He hit the silence button again and her voice fazed back in. “…sound like something you could do?”

  Well, he was an Elf. He could do anything. Pretty much. Within reason. Probably.

  “Absolutely,” he said cheerfully, as Strawberry, or whatever the fuck her name was, unfastened his shirt and rubbed her breasts all over his chest. “That sounds right up my street.”

  “It does?” The detective sounded surprised. “Right. Well, then, I’ll have the flight details faxed to you.”

  “Excellent,” Finn said as Apple bit his nipple. “See you then.”

  He put the phone down and allowed Grapefruit to divest him of the rest of his clothes, some of them with her teeth. She presented one plump nipple to his mouth and he sucked happily before the realisation hit him.

  “She’ll fax the what?”

  Chapter One

  Sofie Angeletti stood at the edge of a freezing airfield outside Prague and scowled.

  Why this Dr. McCready couldn’t get a commercial flight like a normal person, she’d no idea. After the frankly bizarre and extremely difficult phone conversation she’d had with him the other day, she rather doubted his ability to help her in any useful way.

  She checked her watch. He was late.

  Late and difficult. Already she disliked him.

  It was a damn stupid case anyway. Why the hell they’d sent her chasing wild geese all over the damn country she’d no idea. It was so far out of her jurisdiction she hadn’t even known what to say. Well, she had, but it wasn’t repeatable. She was pretty sure they were just trying to get rid of her.

  Sofie had never had the talent of making friends easily.

  Shading her eyes as the rumble of a plane ripped through the air, she looked up to see a cargo aircraft coming in to land. Dammit, where was he?

  The air traffic controller on the far side of the tarmac gestured for her to put her ear protectors on, and she did, wincing at the high level of noise that still filtered through. The air rippled in waves as the huge machine displaced it all, riding majestically along the runway like a stately battleship.

  She watched idly as it came to a halt -- right in the middle of the runway, which she thought was a little odd, but then it was only a small airfield and they probably didn’t get many planes -- and a hatch at the back opened out. Then two men ran over and pulled a ramp from the hatch.

  Then a car shot out of the hatch, some retro sports car, so fast it flew over the ramp and bounced on the runway before screaming across the tarmac, skidding around and heading back toward the plane.

  “Oh my God,” she muttered, “it’s Batman.”

  The men were closing the hatch now. Sofie, fascinated, caught a glimpse of a dark-haired driver waving at them, and heard him cry, “Cheers lads!”

  She shook her head, determined not to be amused. It was all right for this playboy racer to piss around on airfields, but she had a consultant to meet.

  The plane started moving again and the car took off after it. Spinning past her, it slowed fractionally, enough for her to get a closer look at the driver, who winked with one eye and twinkled with the other, then sped away, chasing the plane until it took off.

  Sofie stared after it, and felt a laugh bubble up inside her. Clearly this guy was madder than a bag of snakes, but he looked like he was having fun. For a very brief second she wished she was having as much fun, but then she composed herself. Fun was irrelevant when you had a job to do.

  She was just looking around for someone to ask if Dr. McCready’s plane was delayed, when the sports car came screaming back toward her. Curvy, retro, and very expensive-looking, it skidded to a sideways halt a few feet away, and sat there, panting like a wild beast.

  For a few seconds Sofie and the car regarded each other. Then the door swung open and out sprang a man in jeans and a leather jacket, running shoes on his feet and a gleam in his eye.

  “Hello,” he said, beaming at her, and Sofie found herself smiling back. He had a rather infectious grin, big and bright like a child’s, and his eyes shone with enthusiasm. After an entrance like that, he was practically bouncing with joie de vivre and Sofie wished she could live life that hard and full, just for an hour or two.

  “Hello,” she said. He was looking her over rather appreciatively.

  “I do hope you’re waiting for me,” he said. He was speaking Czech without any accent, clearly a native.

  She smiled. “I’m afraid not.”

  He didn’t look daunted. “Really? How do you know?”

  “The man I’m waiting for is…” a boring doctor of linguistics with an eccentric telephone manner. “English,” she said.

  “Ahh. Can’t help you there. Well, actually I can, because I speak English.”

  Cheers lads. Of course he did.

  “So do I,” she said. He smelled good. Clean, like soap and shampoo, but also… kind of… elemental, like a scent designed to bypass her nose, go straight to her brain and say Yum.

  “Oh, do you?” He suddenly switched to English so quickly and fluently it knocked her back a little. “There’s a coincidence. English is one of my favourite languages. So many words! You just don’t get that many words in other languages. I mean, how many countries need so many words for, say, rain?”

  “Not many other countries get as much rain,” Sofie said, trying to keep up.

  “Nope, that’s true. Actually it’s not, plenty of places get more rain, they just don’t get it as often.” He frowned as if thinking about it. “It rained all the time when I was in Fiji,” he said.

  “Wet season?”

  “I hope so,” he said with a sparkle that made her laugh. “Oh no, wait! I didn’t introduce myself. Here I am, speaking the language and ignoring the rules. Fionnbar McCready.”

  Sofie blinked.

  He leaned forward and stage-whispered, “This is the part where you tell me your name.”

  Stunned -- how could this energetic man be the difficult creature she’d spoken to on the phone? -- Sofie stuttered, “Sofie Angeletti.”

  His mesmerising eyes lit up. “Really? Wicked! Then you are waiting for me!”

  He suddenly grabbed her in a hug, gave her an enthusiastic kiss on both cheeks, and set her down, beaming.

  Sofie just stared. “You’re Dr. McCready?”

  “Yep. Call me Finn. Can I call you Sofie?”

  “Uh --”

  “I haven’t been to the Czech Republic in ages. Well, not since it was still Czechoslovakia. Do they still do those cool Kraslice egg things at Easter? I love those. The prettiest girl once gave me one carved like actual lace, it was amazing.” He cocked his head, watching her. Then he smiled, a cheeky grin. “You weren’t expecting me, were you?”

  Sofie tried to recover herself. “Of course I was. Why else would I be here?”

  “No,” he waved at the car, at his scruffy jeans, “I mean me. You were expecting some old man with white hair and bushy eyebrows. Why do old men have such huge eyebrows? I mean, normal eyebrow hair sort of stops growing at a certain length, doesn’t it? What happens when you hit about seventy, does it just stop grow -- no, that’s not right. Stop stop growing? Start growing more? I dunno, what do you think?”

  I think you’re certifiable, Sofie thought, rapidly r
e-evaluating. Difficult, yes, but that was because he was insane.

  “I think we should get going,” she said, as firmly as she could.

  “Right, yes, of course. Good idea. Wee bit nippy, isn’t it?”

  “Nippy?”

  “Cold. Chilly.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Freezing brass monkeys. That doesn’t really have a translation in Czech, does it?”

  “Er, no,” Sofie said, “but I think I’ve got the idea.”

  Finn had the distinct impression Detective Angeletti didn’t like him. Which was fair enough because he had been known to infuriate people in minutes before. He supposed it made a refreshing change from the women who started ripping their clothes off five minutes after he walked in the room.

  Small shame though, because the detective was a bit of a hottie. Cool blue eyes, long blonde hair -- at least he assumed it was long, it was fastened back in a thick chignon. Honestly, a chignon! Too many pins in a hairstyle like that. He’d hated them in the eighteenth century and he hated them now.

  Detective Angeletti needed to let her hair down.

  “I love Prague,” he said as he catapulted the Jaguar toward the city. “Lovely bridges.”

  “Yes,” said the detective warily. “Very picturesque.”

  “Shame about all that communism stuff,” he mused. “Still, you’ve got to learn, eh? Like Germany. Nicest bunch of people you’ll ever meet, the Germans. Ever so polite.”

  “Yes, I’ve always found so.”

  “Mad language though. Those words that go on forever. Selbstverständlich, Kriegsdienstverweigerer --”

  “‘Obvious’, and ‘conscientious objector’,” she translated, which made him grin and toss her a new one.

  “Zivildienstledeistender. That’s ‘conscientious objector doing alternative work for the community.’ See? It’s genius. I love languages, they’re brilliant.”

  “Indeed,” she agreed weakly, clinging to her seatbelt as he put the E-type through its paces. Yeah, she’d arranged a commercial flight for him, but Finn hated boxy little hire cars, and besides, the vintage Jag started getting petulant if he left it too long, refused to start and sulked in the garage.