and now, hard and fast, I need
to concentrate.
“Stop that,” I say and give the
cheeks of her ass a light smack. The moment I do, I freeze. I did this before
only more so at Carnival. I don’t want to go back there but… I could swear that
she liked it. Then and now.
“Again,” she whispers. “Please.”
It’s that ‘please’ that undoes me.
I could have held out against anything but that or so I tell myself. My skin
feels like it’s on fire for reasons that have nothing to do with the
temperature of the water. I lift my gaze from Amelia for a moment and stare out
the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bathroom, taking deep breaths and fighting
to get myself under control.
The view of the vast expanse of
ocean is calming, as always, but the sight of the hump of rock and foliage in
the near distance reminds me of what’s at stake. Like all the small islands
that ring the atoll, it’s loaded with early warning security and automated defenses.
A bird can land safely; anything else will be blown to smithereens.
Something clicks in my head. A
flood of sensation surges through me, so powerful that it shifts reality. Suddenly
I’m back in the city, lying on the street in front of the club, pain roaring
through me and the smell of cordite from the missile the drone launched burning
my throat.
My reaction is visceral. I grab
hold of Amelia, turn her around, and yank her against me. With one hand I grasp
the nape of her neck, holding her in place as I take her mouth. With the other,
I roam over her body, cupping her full breast, tracing the slim line of her
waist to the swell of her hip and beyond. I push between her thighs, fingering
her along the length of her slit, delving inward to feel her wetness. I’m
desperate to reassure myself that she’s what’s real. That we are.
The rest of it--the nightmare in
the street, the pain and blood, everything that went before it--they’re just
ghosts that I need to let go of.
Except they aren’t. Everything they
represent--Davos, the danger he poses to Amelia, the situation she’s trapped
in--all of it is still front and center in our lives. Worse yet, I can’t even
deal with it right now. I have to wait, gather information, prepare. My
patience, already strained to the breaking point, threatens to snap.
I can’t let that happen, not for
any reason, not with Amelia.
Lifting my head, I gaze down at
her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen and moist. As I watch, her eyes
flutter open.
Softly, in a breath of sound, she
murmurs, “What’s wrong, Ian? You were gone for a moment and now... Where were
you?”
I’m shaking my head before she
finishes. I won’t bring that ugliness into our lives. But at the same time, I
can’t help but acknowledge how attuned she is to me. That’s both good and bad.
I don’t want her thinking about anything except this moment, the two of us in
the here and now.
“Doesn’t matter,” I murmur and kiss
her again, more gently now but still giving vent to a fraction of the roaring
hunger that’s surging up from soul deep inside me. Her mouth is warm, soft,
yielding. She’s not denying me anything.
My throat tightens as I move my
mouth over the curve of her chin, biting just a little, before finding the
hollow at the base of her throat. She moans as I suck her there but I don’t
linger. My need to taste her is overwhelming.
I slide down her body, my mouth
tracing a line from between her breasts to her naval and beyond. When I settle
on my knees in front of her, she gasps and runs her fingers through my hair,
holding on to me as though her life depends on it.
I love the little arrow of hair
that arches down her pubic bone, stopping just short of her slit. My nose
nuzzles in it, inhaling the scent of her, jasmine and musk, sweetness and
arousal, pure Amelia.
The water sprays over my back as I
use my thumbs to part the lips of her sex, spreading her. Her clit is pink,
swollen, delectable. I want to suck it into my mouth,
to concentrate.
“Stop that,” I say and give the
cheeks of her ass a light smack. The moment I do, I freeze. I did this before
only more so at Carnival. I don’t want to go back there but… I could swear that
she liked it. Then and now.
“Again,” she whispers. “Please.”
It’s that ‘please’ that undoes me.
I could have held out against anything but that or so I tell myself. My skin
feels like it’s on fire for reasons that have nothing to do with the
temperature of the water. I lift my gaze from Amelia for a moment and stare out
the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bathroom, taking deep breaths and fighting
to get myself under control.
The view of the vast expanse of
ocean is calming, as always, but the sight of the hump of rock and foliage in
the near distance reminds me of what’s at stake. Like all the small islands
that ring the atoll, it’s loaded with early warning security and automated defenses.
A bird can land safely; anything else will be blown to smithereens.
Something clicks in my head. A
flood of sensation surges through me, so powerful that it shifts reality. Suddenly
I’m back in the city, lying on the street in front of the club, pain roaring
through me and the smell of cordite from the missile the drone launched burning
my throat.
My reaction is visceral. I grab
hold of Amelia, turn her around, and yank her against me. With one hand I grasp
the nape of her neck, holding her in place as I take her mouth. With the other,
I roam over her body, cupping her full breast, tracing the slim line of her
waist to the swell of her hip and beyond. I push between her thighs, fingering
her along the length of her slit, delving inward to feel her wetness. I’m
desperate to reassure myself that she’s what’s real. That we are.
The rest of it--the nightmare in
the street, the pain and blood, everything that went before it--they’re just
ghosts that I need to let go of.
Except they aren’t. Everything they
represent--Davos, the danger he poses to Amelia, the situation she’s trapped
in--all of it is still front and center in our lives. Worse yet, I can’t even
deal with it right now. I have to wait, gather information, prepare. My
patience, already strained to the breaking point, threatens to snap.
I can’t let that happen, not for
any reason, not with Amelia.
Lifting my head, I gaze down at
her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen and moist. As I watch, her eyes
flutter open.
Softly, in a breath of sound, she
murmurs, “What’s wrong, Ian? You were gone for a moment and now... Where were
you?”
I’m shaking my head before she
finishes. I won’t bring that ugliness into our lives. But at the same time, I
can’t help but acknowledge how attuned she is to me. That’s both good and bad.
I don’t want her thinking about anything except this moment, the two of us in
the here and now.
“Doesn’t matter,” I murmur and kiss
her again, more gently now but still giving vent to a fraction of the roaring
hunger that’s surging up from soul deep inside me. Her mouth is warm, soft,
yielding. She’s not denying me anything.
My throat tightens as I move my
mouth over the curve of her chin, biting just a little, before finding the
hollow at the base of her throat. She moans as I suck her there but I don’t
linger. My need to taste her is overwhelming.
I slide down her body, my mouth
tracing a line from between her breasts to her naval and beyond. When I settle
on my knees in front of her, she gasps and runs her fingers through my hair,
holding on to me as though her life depends on it.
I love the little arrow of hair
that arches down her pubic bone, stopping just short of her slit. My nose
nuzzles in it, inhaling the scent of her, jasmine and musk, sweetness and
arousal, pure Amelia.
The water sprays over my back as I
use my thumbs to part the lips of her sex, spreading her. Her clit is pink,
swollen, delectable. I want to suck it into my mouth,
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