“I’m going to fuck your brains out,” he told her.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m gonna make you eat your insults, baby.”
“Okay,” she said with a yawn for his fingers were working magic on her body and between them, the warm sun and the hypnotic rush of the incoming tide, she was getting sleepy. “So whatcha gonna do, stud?”
He was silent for a moment as he worked his way across her shoulder blades.
“First off, we’ll shower.”
“We’re only gonna get sweaty again,” she reminded him.
“Oil mixed with sweat and fish stink,” he said. “Turnoffs and therefore not conducive to keeping my head in the game.”
“Which head?”
“Either,” he replied. He splayed his fingers under her ribcage.
“Go on.”
“First the shower. You’ll bathe me…”
“Oh I will, will I?” she countered.
“Then I’ll bathe you,” he said as though she hadn’t interrupted him. “Very slowly and very thoroughly. I want you squeaky clean.” He paused for a beat. “Inside and out.”
“Oooh,” she said. “Intriguing possibility.”
“I’ll dry you off then carry you to the bed.”
“Don’t want to get the sheets wet,” she acknowledged.
“I’ll lay you down on your back then tie you spread-eagle to the bed.”
“Huh,” she said. His fingers were gliding along the small of her back, making slow circles there.
“I’ll start with your toes.”
“Oh goody,” she said. “They don’t get as much as attention as they need.”
“I’ll suckle each one, lick between them then run my tongue slowly from the ball to the heel.”
“Instep lick! Instep lick! I love instep licks!” she said.
“Then I’ll go back up the sole, through the valley of your big toe, along the top of your foot to your ankle.”
“Ankle licks? Not so much,” she said. “Too bony.”
“Agreed,” he said. “So I won’t linger there.”
“Good boy,” she replied.
He lifted his leg and moved off her to lie down beside her. He insinuated his hand under the material of her bikini bottom to caress her ass.
“I’ll kiss my way up your shin, over your knee, along your thigh then change direction.”
“You’re gonna leave my hoo-haw wanting?” she asked.
“Not for long. Patience, woman. Patience.” He squeezed her left cheek firmly. “It’s a virtue, you know.”
“Never was one for either patience or virtue,” she stated.
“I’ll continue with your right ear.”
“Love me some ear licking,” she told him.
“I’ve noticed,” he said as he moved his hand to her right cheek. “So I’ll spend a little time there.”
“Works for me.”
“Then I’ll move on to the edge of your jaw to that precious little indention under your bottom lip.” He ran his thumb down the crack of her ass then curled his fingers between her legs to cup her.
She squirmed. “Ooh, sensitive spot that,” leaving him to wonder which spot she meant—her lip or her crotch.
“A slow lick upward there at your chin then onto your bottom lip. Another slow lick across the crease between your lips, a gentle little nibble on the top lip then I’ll settle my mouth over yours, thrust my tongue past your lips into the heat beyond.”
“French kissing is very continental,” she observed.
“Very cosmopolitan.”
“Trés chic,” she added.
“I will kiss you thoroughly, ravish your mouth then kiss your eyelids, your nose, your chin then worked my way down your neck.”
“Okeydokey.”
“Suckle the suprasternal notch.”
“You’re big on that word, aren’t you, Tater?”
“Like that little indention at the base of your throat,” he replied. “I’ll fan out along the left shoulder then the right, then drag my tongue down to your breastbone.”
“Now, we’re talking. Get to them boobies like yesterday!” she ordered.
Very slowly he sank his middle finger into the sweet slit of her cunt.
“Oh, baby, baby,” she whispered and writhed under his touch.
“Lie still,” he commanded sternly. “Or I’ll stop.”
“That won’t make your Mr. Happy very happy will it?”
“Nor will it make your hoo-haw happy,” he replied.
“Spoilsport,” she accused.
“I think about bypassing your nipples…”
“Oh, please don’t!” she said. “I’ll be good, Tater. I promise. You gotta lick my nipples. That’s imperative.”
“I’ll consider it,” he said as he pushed deeper between her folds.
“Gotta. Lick. Them. Nippy-dens,” she said with a sigh as he inserted a second finger.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll do that. First, I’ll run my tongue over one—lapping gently, slowly—until it hardens into a sweet little bud.”
“It’s hardening,” she said, beginning to pant for he was moving his finger in and out.
“Then I’ll clamp my teeth very softly around that little nub.”
“Clamping is good,” she said, lifting her ass. “Clamping is a good thing.”
“While you feel my warm breath fanning over the areola, I’ll draw that delicious little peak into my mouth and suck on it.”
“Sucking is real good,” she whispered.
“Indeed it is so I’ll move over to the other breast.”
“Don’t want it to get jealous,” she said with a shake of her head.
“I’ll give it the same amount of attention before I leave it to begin kissing my way down your stomach.”
“Oh, no,” she whimpered. “Don’t leave the boobie just yet, Tater!”
“The journey is toward a specific destination, chere,” he said. “I’m slowly making my way to our native South.”
“Deep South,” she said. “That’s a nice trip.”
“Deep, deep South,” he said as he pressed a third finger into her heat until he could go no further. He held his fingers steady and hard inside her.
“You know our motto down there,” she said, squeezing her vaginal muscles around his penetration.
He leaned over her, put his lips to her ear. “What’s that?” he whispered.
“Y’all come,” she replied.
“Oh, I will, baby,” he said in a husky voice. His fingers withdrew, advanced, withdrew, and advanced. “But you first.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Agent Albright?”
Laci woke with a start, groaning as she realized where she was. Feeling frustrated and heavy between her legs. She looked up at the steward. “Huh?”
“We’re arriving on Santorini, ma’am,” he said. “You need to buckle up.”
She nodded. Her heart was pounding and she was so aroused she was throbbing. She doubted she could even walk without squirming. She’d need to go to the restroom before she exited the plane but it wouldn’t be to pee.
“What a dream,” she whispered softly. It was so out of character for Taylor and it had been so intense! So real! She was tingling all over and there were goose bumps on her arms. She rubbed them but the sensation only made the throbbing worse between her legs.
* * * * *
With his heightened senses, he homed in on the black Gulf Stream as it touched down. She was on the private jet and from the turmoil he could sense roiling inside her, he knew she’d been dreaming of that man who used to be connected to her. The dream had aroused her. He could almost feel the slick heat of her cunt and it made his fingers itch.
He stood there at the window and watched the big black bird rolling toward the terminal and felt his blood begin to race, his breathing increase. Soon he would be face to face with his life-mate.
* * * * *
Laci deplaned with just
her shoulder bag. The steward would bring her bag to the hotel for her. A part of her wished she would be staying in the beach house where she and Taylor had stayed but another agent was using it for her vacation. Perhaps, she thought, it was for the best the beach house was taken. The memories would be overwhelming.
Laci froze as the soft voice wafted into her ear. She hadn’t felt his arrival nor sensed him at all. She turned her head and found her eyes only inches from his. He was leaning over her close enough for her to feel the heat of his body beneath the white silk shirt stretched across his broad chest.
“Hello,” he said and dark-green eyes shifted boldly over her face then settled momentarily on her mouth before he moved back.
She couldn’t find her voice. His sudden appearance seemingly out of thin air disturbed her so greatly she shuddered as he took a seat across from her. All she could do was stare at him, every hair on her body stirring.
The wine steward appeared with the plum wine and two glasses. Ceremoniously he poured a sip into the balgair’s glass and waited for the man’s reaction.
Laci watched the man across from her take a sip then nod his approval.
“Excellent vintage,” he pronounced.
She waited until the wine steward left. “Who are you?”
He smiled and that smile did things to her body that it shouldn’t have.
“I’m sure the moment I sat down your techno geeks began running facial recognition software trying to find out,” he said. He shrugged. “My name is Dixon Coulter.”
It didn’t surprise her that he knew about the camera that was hidden inside the brooch she wore on her blouse. “I am—”
“Laci Albright,” he said and took a long sip of his wine.
“Then you know whom I work for.”
His smile widened. “Indeed I do and I’m looking forward to meeting them.” He set his wineglass on the table, glancing up at the waiter who took that moment to appear. “I will order for the both of us,” he told the waiter.
Uneasily she listened as he ordered a meal that was exactly what she would have ordered for herself and what he ordered for his own repast was what Taylor would have—even down to the dessert.
When the waiter left, he leaned back in his chair and gave her a steady look. “Tell them yes.”
She blinked. Beneath the skin of her right ear was a tiny receiving device, the transmission from which only she should have been able to hear. The Supervisor had asked her for a clarification of information he’d just received from Ops.
“Yes, I am—or rather was—a Navy SEAL. I’m sure the Supervisor will make sure I get a medical discharge from the Navy when I come to work for the Exchange.” He grinned. “Won’t you, Costin?”
Laci winced as a loud gasp issued from the receiver. She knew it was the Supervisor’s reaction to having Coulter use a name other than John Doe.
“You know his real identity?” she asked quietly.
“Leave it!” the Supervisor’s hiss thundered through her mind.
“Your secret is safe with me, Cos,” Coulter said. “But that should give you some idea of just how much knowledge I have.”
“Get him to the plane. We’ll handle the rest.”
“I’m not ready to leave Greece just yet,” Coulter stated. “I believe I have earned a little vacation. The lovely Miss Albright can bring me to you at the end of the week.”
“Unacceptable!”
“Non-negotiable,” Coulter said. “Now go away.” He waved his hand and the Supervisor’s angry retort was cut off.
Shock rippled through Laci and she began to hear the rush of her blood pounding through her ears. He had cut her off from the Exchange with barely a flick of his wrist. She had no doubt the vid from the camera in the broach had been shut down as well.
“It has,” he said, reaching for his wineglass. “And every operative who has been watching us is now wandering around looking for something fun to do.”
She swept her eyes around the restaurant and was stunned to see they were completely alone. All the diners had left and not even the wait staff was hovering. Her heart began to pound.
Fear unlike anything she’d ever known settled down on her with suffocating force. She stared into his dark-green eyes—so like Taylor’s—and knew a moment of absolute terror. Placing her palms on the edge of the table, she was prepared to push out of her chair and run. His carefully modulated voice stopped her.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Laci,” he said softly. “I would cut off my right hand before I would hurt you or allow anyone else to. Trust me on that.”
“Why?” she asked, feeling nausea bubbling up her chest.
He reached across the table to lay his hand over hers. The moment he touched her she felt an electric shock travel from her fingers to her shoulder. She couldn’t move.
Didn’t want to.
“We are going to eat our meal and thoroughly enjoy every bite of it,” he said in that same soft voice, his eyes locked on hers. “Then we will go back to my room where we will have some privacy to talk. Is that all right with you?”
She nodded, unable to speak. She was caught in the verdant glow of his unblinking eyes.
“Good,” he said. He patted her hand then removed his, sat back and just stared at her.
Her body was tingling as his gaze roamed over her.
“You are an incredibly lovely woman,” he said. He drained his wineglass and returned it to the table. “And I am a lucky man.”
“In what way?” she asked. Her breathing was erratic and making her feel lightheaded.
He cocked a shoulder. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he said.
“I have a mate,” she told him.
“Indeed you do,” he agreed. “One who loves you very much and would do everything in his power to keep you at his side.”
“Yes,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips. “He would.”
He smiled again—slowly, knowingly—and that smile was so devastating to her libido she felt her womb clench.
He was a handsome man. Dangerously so. There was no getting past that. With a head of thick, curly black hair, a strong square jaw with deep dimples, a cleft chin and those mesmerizing green eyes he could be a matinee idol. His teeth were white and straight except for his central incisors which were a bit crooked. In the opened vee of his shirt, she could see a mat of dark curly hair. He had a thick Southern drawl that finally registered with her.
“You’re from the South,” she said.
He inclined his head. “Florida,” he replied. “Same as you.”
“What part of Florida?”
“Milton. Do you know where that is?”
“In the Panhandle,” she said and when he nodded she asked where his last duty station had been.
“That is classified,” he said. “I am nothing if not honorable when it comes to my commitment to my country, Laci. I’ll not tell you where I was or what I was doing when I was captured by Hassan’s men. If the Supervisor wants that information—though I can’t imagine why he’d need it—he can try to get it from the Navy. You, my love, don’t need to know.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said and saw a flash of irritation go through his eyes before the spark died and his smile returned in full force. It annoyed her because she knew he understood what his smiles were doing to her.
The waiter arrived with their meal.
“Hungry?” he asked, shaking out his napkin.
“No,” she said.
He laid the napkin in his lap then leveled those green orbs on hers. “Yes, you are.”
She opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out. She was trapped once again by his stare.
“Eat your food, Laci,” he commanded. “You had no lunch so I know you are hungry.”
“I am hungry.” She heard her words as though they were coming from a deep well.
“Good girl.” He picked up his knife and fork. “Now eat and enjoy.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
Dixon watched her as she ate. He did not speak to her. Did not want her to speak so gave her a light mental push to prevent it. He wanted her to eat. He wanted her to enjoy what she ate. He had heard her stomach growling as soon as she’d sat down at the table and had gently slipped into her mind to see when she’d eaten last. As they spoke, he sensed the confusion and uncertainty swirling through her mind to cause her to lose her appetite. He didn’t like influencing her but knew here at the beginning it would be necessary.
He liked looking at her. She was, indeed, a stunningly beautiful woman with her long blonde hair and lovely blue eyes. She had lips made for kissing. Full and lush, he could spend hours plundering them. She was small and he doubted she weighed more than a hundred and five pounds. Her waist was small enough he knew he could span it with his hands. Beneath the crisp green cotton blouse were breasts that would fit enticingly into his palms and he could not stop himself from probing past the fabrics of the blouse and lacy bra to take a quick look at the dusky peaks. He ached wanting to draw her nipples into his mouth.
Shaking that thought from his mind, he took up his napkin to blot his lips. He saw her gaze go to his mouth and smiled for her again. For some reason when he smiled at her she reacted with immediate arousal. He could smell the heady scent of that arousal wetting her folds and longed to lick the honey from between her long legs.
She was taller than he preferred his women to be but he found that didn’t matter. Everything else about her was perfect in every way. The sweet Southern accent that years in Iowa had not been able to completely wipe away was low and sultry and filled him with such intense longing it was hard to remain seated across from her. He wanted nothing more than to go all caveman on her and sling her over his shoulder, carry her off to some deep, dark cave and ravish her with abandon.
But she was too precious for such actions. This was a woman who needed to be handled with gentle care. Courted if he were to win her. Loved with tender control. Worshipped with hands and mouth. Firmly taken with strong thrusts that were not hurried or that bordered on painful. This was a woman who needed to be satisfied so thoroughly she would never look elsewhere for pleasure.
That he could provide such pleasure for her he had no doubt whatsoever. Before the Black Ascendency the hellion said had descended upon him he was at most an adequate—if somewhat bumbling—lover. Sex was sex. It was an itch that he’d scratched. The women beneath him had meant nothing more than a quick lay.
A Reaper's Love (WindWorld) Page 11