“Oh god, Duke, I’m gonna come. Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming—oh god, oh god, oh my god…Duke!”
At the moment of her orgasm, as she shrieked my name, she impaled herself on my cock, slamming her ass down onto me and collapsing forward onto my chest, her lips crushed against my cheek, her hands sliding under my head to clasp her arms around me in a desperate, trembling embrace. I couldn’t help it, then; I grabbed a double handful of her ass and bit her earlobe and groaned as I felt her tight pussy clamp down around me, hot and wet and pulsating as she orgasmed above me. She clung to me for a moment, just like that, my cock buried deep, her face against mine, her breath ragged, her whole body trembling on top of mine.
“Don’t come yet, Duke,” she murmured. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“You’re making it damn near impossible,” I said.
She pulled back from me, took my hands and pressed them over my head once more. “That’s the point,” she said, lifting up so I flopped out of her slit and slapped against my belly. She pivoted on me, so she was facing my feet, now, rose up on her knees and braced her hands on my thighs, pulled my cock away from my belly and slid me into her pussy. Starting slowly, Temple began to ride me, lifting up, pausing, and then slamming her ass down on me; I was utterly hypnotized by the way her ass moved, watching my cock disappear inside her as she lowered herself onto me, and then the way the generous flesh rippled and jiggled as her beautiful ass slapped against my hips.
“So fucking gorgeous,” I said, unable to help myself.
Temple didn’t respond with words, but the way she whimpered and started riding me harder told me she’d heard me, and what those words meant to her.
“I need to move, baby,” I said, helpless to stop my hips from pumping with her sensual rhythm.
“No,” she gasped. “Don’t move.”
“Fuck.” I grabbed a double fistful of the pillow under my head, gritted my teeth, and held still.
Her pace was frantic, and it took every last ounce of control and restraint I possessed to hold back my orgasm as Temple rode me. She leaned back so she was sitting up on top of me with her shins beneath her, rolling her hips in wide, exaggerated circles. Her hands went to her pussy, one hand spreading those plump pink lips apart, the other tapping her clit a few times before rubbing in circles. This was when I discovered something I hadn’t noticed until just then: there was a mirror on the bureau opposite the bed, giving me a perfect view of the front of Temple as she rode and masturbated herself to another climax.
Fuck—I could see everything, her tits jouncing as she began bouncing on me, her pussy stretched out to accommodate my cock, the way my shaft slid into her and reappeared, her fingers a blur on her clit…
Heat boiled inside me, a violent pressure aching in my balls, a fierce desperation pounding through my cock.
“I have to come, Temple. I can’t hold it anymore,” I said, “I just can’t.”
“Not yet, Duke,” she gasped. “Wait for me.”
“Fuck, honey, I’m trying.”
“I’m almost there,” she murmured, riding me hard and fast, her fingers circling crazily.
It hurt, fuck, it hurt to keep holding back like this. My balls were about to explode, the pressure inside too much to bear, the need to come too powerful.
I felt my hips begin to move on their own. “I can’t, baby, I can’t wait anymore. I gotta—Jesus, Temple, fuck, I need to come.”
“Wait for me, Duke, I’m almost there!”
I was clamping down with everything I had, every muscle tensed, head thrown back, spine arched, even my toes were curling and my jaw was grinding so hard I worried I was gonna crack a tooth.
“Oh fuck—fuck!” Temple screamed, falling backward onto me, her back to my front. “Now, Duke! Ohmygod I’m coming! I’m coming!” The last words were a sob as she reached back to find my hands with one of hers, her other still flicking back and forth across her clit as fast as she could.
“Watch us in the mirror, Temple,” I said through clenched teeth. “Watch us come together.”
I saw her eyes flick open, meeting mine in the mirror, and now we both watched as we came apart in unison.
My fingers tangled with hers, and I bellowed in pure relief and utter euphoria as I let myself go. I fucked her with everything I possessed, then, my hips slamming up to meet hers as she bounced down onto me. Her face was beside mine, then, and her mouth slid across my cheek and I turned to meet her mouth, our lips and teeth clashing in a frantic, gasping kiss.
I came within three thrusts. Our kiss became a mutual, shared groan, teeth clicking together, breath mingling and moans echoing as I fucked through my orgasm, feeling her pussy squeeze around me with impossible, unbelievable force.
I poured myself into her, into the condom, one hand tangled with hers, my other roaming her body, cupping her tits and gripping a rough handful of her hip, then knocking her hand away to take over flicking her clit, my orgasm still powering through me in wave after wrenching wave.
After a long minute or two of spasming, gasping ecstasy, Temple finally went limp on top of me, my cock still throbbing inside her, our synched breathing coming in ragged gasps.
There was a world of thought and emotion barreling though me, then. “Temple, I—” I started, intending to put some of it into words.
She shifted up my body so I slipped out of her, and then rolled to lie on top of me once more, her breasts flattened against my chest, her hair cascading over one shoulder.
Searching my eyes, she cupped my face in both hands, her brows drawn down in a frown of deep, emotive, intensity. Her mouth opened, which is why I stopped, thinking she had something to say. Instead, she claimed my mouth with hers, and this was the first kiss we’d shared outside the fury of sex.
For the first time in my life, I finally understood what real, true, soul-deep passion was; I found it in that kiss.
As earth shaking, soul-shattering as the sex had been, that kiss was more. I wanted the kiss to last forever. I buried my hand in her hair at the back of her head and kept her locked into the kiss, pulled her closer, deepening the kiss until it was all consuming, until it felt like something inside me was melting and seeping into her and merging with her. It became something more than just a kiss, then.
The whole “becoming one flesh” thing from the Bible? Yeah, I finally got it. Hey, when you do things I’ve done, seen the things I’ve seen, you look for absolution anywhere you can find it. I’ve spent my fair share of between-ops downtime in the chapel, talking to the chaplain and leafing through an old Bible, wondering if it really had useful answers in it. I can’t say I really found what I was looking for, but then, I’m not sure it exists.
Shit, I’m getting off-topic. My point is, when Temple kissed me, there in Harris and Layla’s extra bedroom, I finally understood what it meant to become one flesh. I always assumed it was a reference to fucking, right? Dick goes in the pussy, and bam, you’re “united”, and you two have technically merged, sort of. Kind of dramatic, but whatever, it was a less explicit way of talking about sex.
But no, that’s not it at all. Not even close.
Sex, fucking, banging—it’s just body parts and a few minutes of feeling great with someone sexy. Of all the women I’ve ever banged—and that number is higher than I care to think about—I’ve never felt like she and I were…one, like we’d become something more than just the sum of our two bodies and souls. Shit, I rarely ever even thought about souls. Sex was just sex. I loved women, I loved their bodies, their curves, the softness of their flesh and the way they look beneath me or above me, I love watching them squirm and hearing them scream when I eat them out, and I love feeling them come apart in my hands.
But souls? Becoming one? Passion? Nah, man, I’m good.
And then Temple Kennedy kissed me, and I just got it. Fancy-shit writers would probably say I’d had an epiphany, and they wouldn’t be wrong. That’s what it was.
Becoming one flesh? It’s when som
ething inside you opens up and reaches out and becomes part of the other person. It’s when sex and kissing and touching and holding each other just aren’t enough, like you want to somehow just…fuck, I don’t know how to put it. It’s…it’s when no matter how deep you are inside her, no matter how hard you kiss her, it’s not enough. It’s when you feel her heart, her metaphysical heart, the very essence of who she is, becoming inextricably interwoven into who you are, just from the kissing, the fucking, the touching, the holding and moving together and breathing each other’s breath.
That’s what it is, and that’s what I discovered when Temple kissed me.
The moment was broken by the sound of an explosion—
BOOM!
The explosion was a thin, distant crumping of explosives.
And then I heard Anselm firing—BOOM!—the report a deep, shaking, shuddering, echoing roll of fifty-caliber thunder. I knew the sound of that Barrett as well as I knew my own reflection in the mirror; once you’ve heard that big fucking rifle, you never forget it.
“Fuck.” I broke the kiss, whispering the epithet. “Sounds like we’ve got company.”
BOOM! BOOM!…BOOM!
I rolled to set Temple aside, scrambling out of bed as fast as I could. I’d discarded the condom and was dressed in thirty seconds flat, stomping into my boots and tying the laces in a blur of movement.
The walkie crackled from my hip pocket where I’d stuffed it in my hurry to get naked. “Sie sind hier,” Anselm said, reverting to German—they’re here.
“How many?” I asked, shrugging into the double shoulder holster harness and buckling it in place.
“Zu viele.” His Barrett cracked twice more—too many, that meant. That was six shots, which meant six kills—Anselm never missed, ever.
“How fucking many, goddammit?”
“I don’t know!” Anselm actually shouted back at me, which stunned me motionless. “A fucking shit load of them, mein Freund. Twenty? Thirty?”
I was out the bedroom door with the Mossberg, and then stopped abruptly. Temple was dressed by then—wearing the clothes borrowed from Layla—and was hustling after me. I shoved the shotgun into her hands.
“Hide in the bathroom and lock the door.” I guided her toward the bathroom, gave her the walkie talkie, and emptied my pockets of shotgun shells. “Shoot first and ask questions later. If it’s me or Anselm, we’ll identify ourselves. Anyone else, blast ‘em.”
“I don’t know how to shoot a gun!”
I was already backing out of the bathroom. “Keep a good grip on it, that fucker kicks like a howitzer. Tuck the butt tight against your shoulder and squeeze the trigger. Don’t close your eyes, don’t try to aim. Just go for the belly and you’ll get close enough.”
“But…but, Duke! I—I can’t—don’t leave me!”
I leaned back in and kissed her quickly. “You can. You have to. There’s too many of them out there for me to have the luxury of thinking about you. You’re safe in here. I’ll have a radio too, but don’t contact me unless you have to. Okay? You’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, everything will be fine. But I gotta go.”
Anselm’s Barrett was blasting nonstop, and I heard return fire, small arms, mostly. There was the sharp crack of a .308, which worried me.
Anselm was too good to be caught in a sniper’s crosshairs, but it meant they’d seen the muzzle flash and had a lock on his position. Which meant I really had to move—I’d already wasted too much time.
I cursed myself for getting so caught up in Temple that I missed their arrival, but really, deep down, I couldn’t regret it, not after what we’d shared.
I scrambled for the AR-15, then ripped open the duffel bag and slung the HK MP7 over my shoulder. I had magazines in my pockets for both and another flash bang. I wish I had my body armor, which was back at HQ—I thought Anselm had gone to grab it, but I guess he got sidetracked. I grabbed a radio from the rack and set up the earpiece and throat mic, then peeked out one of the front windows, using the frame as cover. A Suburban was hauling ass toward the house, still a good half-mile away, just emerging from the shroud of trees that lined the fence, followed by one of the big tricked out Wranglers like I’d stolen, plus what looked like a Hummer. There were more vehicles behind those, but I couldn’t make out what they were, and it didn’t really matter.
I heard the Barrett, and the hood of the lead Suburban crumpled, the front end slamming down into the dirt road. The Wrangler behind it gunned its engine and veered around it adroitly. The Suburban flipped, twisted, and rolled to one side, glass shattering.
“I need your backup now, Duke,” Anselm said over the radio. “The fun is about to begin.”
“How the fuck did they get here so fast?” I demanded. “And how’d they get in the gate?”
“It’s been an hour,” Anselm said, a note of amusement in his voice. “I left your gear by the kitchen door.”
“An hour?” I exclaimed. “I had no idea. I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, running for the kitchen.
“It is not so surprising you couldn’t hear me. You and the lovely Miss Kennedy were rather…occupied.” A pause, and then another blast of his rifle, and then his voice in my earpiece. “They brought explosives, blasted the gate open.”
That explained the first explosion I heard.
He’d brought my body armor, a bandolier of grenades, and my favorite personal weapon, an M4 carbine with the M203 grenade launcher attached to the rail. Fuck yeah. I tossed the AR-15 aside and checked my rifle—loaded, grenade in the chamber, charged, plus a stack of pre-loaded magazines. I geared up in record time. My armor had double handgun holsters already attached, so it was a matter of stuffing the nines from holster to holster, and then I was out the kitchen door.
Anselm was still cracking off shots. I trotted around to the front corner, took a knee, and scanned the scene with the optical scope. Anselm was picking off the survivors crawling out of the Suburban, and he’d also taken out the Wrangler, but there were still two…no, three…shit, four more vehicles behind that. The Suburban held eight, most of the others four or five…Anselm’s estimation of twenty or thirty was on the nose.
The four remaining undamaged vehicles skidded to a halt three hundred meters from the house forming a U with the opening facing the road. The doors opened and operatives in full gear poured out, each armed with carbines or HKs. I still heard that .308 cracking, but couldn’t see where it was coming from.
“You have a lock on that rifle?” I asked, the throat mic keying to pick up the vibrations when I spoke.
“Nein,” Anselm answered. “But he is only guessing at my location, and I am in motion. He is no worry—I will find him. You worry about evening the odds.”
I tilted the rifle and squeezed the trigger of the 203—the carbine gave a hefty kick and there was a hollow metallic thunk as the round left the chamber, then a pause of a few seconds, and then the centermost vehicle, a Hummer, exploded with a deafening crump. Orange flames billowed and the vehicle rocked skyward then crashed back down. Men shouted and screamed, scattering—making my job easier. I pinned the optics on a running operative, squeezed off a few rounds, and then shifted aim, fired again.
Anselm had set a pattern: fire three times, move positions, and fire three times. I knew his patterns, and knew he wouldn’t be moving in any predictable patterns, sometimes running a hundred meters to a new spot, and sometimes just shifting half a dozen or so meters. We worked in synch, then, Anselm plugging operative after operative, one shot one kill, then going silent as he moved to a new position. While he was moving, I’d open fire, picking a target and firing in three-round bursts.
It took nearly a minute for Cain’s mercenaries to figure out my location—and then they opened fire on the house almost as one man, rifles chattering, rounds smacking into the wood siding. Sloppy bastards, taking that long to peg my location. I ducked back out of view, switched mags, loaded another round into the launcher, and scanned for a secondary firing position. Harris had
cleared the area around the house, so there wasn’t much; this was intentional, meant to put anyone approaching the house from any direction out in the open, but it also meant there wasn’t much cover for me either.
Nothing for it. I’d have to just make do with what I had.
I edged to the corner again, peeked, and then rolled out to squeeze off a couple bursts, rolled back behind the corner. Rounds thunked and whizzed and buzzed, plunked into the grass under foot, smashed a window. The Barrett barked, the .308 cracked twice, and then I heard the wood siding splintering, which meant their shots would start to punch through soon. Time to move.
I broke into a run, circling around behind the house to the opposite corner. I hadn’t made it even halfway when I heard Anselm over the radio.
“They are going into the house,” he said. “If your girlfriend is in there, she is in trouble.”
“She’s got a radio,” I said. “Temple, you hearing this?”
“Y-yeah.” Her voice was shaky and quiet. “I hear them.”
“Don’t hesitate, don’t think, just shoot. I’ll be there in five seconds.”
“She may not have that long, Duke. Mach schnell.”
I skidded to a stop, scrambled up onto the back deck and yanked open the sliding glass door. The open plan of the house meant I had a clear view of the front door, catching the tail end of a quartet of mercs filing in. My carbine spat and the rearmost operative dropped, writhing, a round in his throat between armor and helmet. I trotted after the rest, slamming my shoulder into the wall to halt my progress and then rolled out into the hallway.
I was thrown backward by a hard punch to the chest, a round slugging into the body armor. I hit the floor on my back, sliding, gasping, chest aching, throat closed and burning as I struggled to breathe. Even in pain and unable to breathe, my training kicked in. Still on my back, I fired from the hip, four rounds, then three, then four more. The merc I’d dropped was behind me, the other four spread out in the hallway, two in front, one in back, the other pivoting to search the other rooms.
Duke: Alpha One Security: Book 3 Page 20