Heat of the Night
Page 25

"Connor!" Her head thrashed in near delirium, unable to bear the depth and leisurely pace of his fucking. It was unbelievably good. Impossibly good. A few more strokes like that and she was going to have the orgasm of her life. "Yes… um, yes…"
He pulled free and slipped off the bed.
Stacey struggled up onto her elbows and gaped at him. "Where are you going?"
He looked over his shoulder and blinked innocently. "I'm going to get you some pie. You said you wanted some."
"Y-you… w-what… now … ?"
"I wouldn't want to force you into sex or anything."
"Get back here!"
He grinned and paused at the door, lounging insolently into the jamb. Buck-assed naked with a full raging hard-on, he made a stunning picture.
"Nympho," he teased.
"Come on!" she cajoled impatiently. "Please."
"Was that begging?"
Her gaze narrowed. "Get. Over. Here. Now."
He crossed his arms and studied her intently.
"What will you do when I'm gone and you're horny?"
"Play with myself," she said easily. "But that's not nearly as much fun as playing with you and you're here."
"Do it," he urged, his hot gaze dropping to her lewdly spread legs. "I want to watch."
She considered that a long moment, watching him watching her. The way his lips parted and his breathing sped up told her the idea of witnessing her masturbating turned him on.
"Will you jack off to this memory when you're away?" she asked, pushing her splayed fingers through the damp curls of her sex.
Connor licked his lips and took himself in hand.
"I'm ready to jack off to it now."
The pads of her fingers rested over her engorged clit and she rubbed in languid circles, shivering from both the lack of his body heat and her building arousal. She'd need a faster pace to reach orgasm, but that wasn't the point of the exercise.
The point was to get Connor in a rut, so he'd come back and finish what he started. She moaned and his entire body jerked.
"Fuck," he rasped, straightening.
"Oh!" Her neck arched back, thrusting her breasts into the air. She rubbed harder and a little faster, reaching lower to gather the slickness at the slit of her pussy, then rising up to lubricate her motions.
Then his fingers were there, pushing inside her, thrusting. Fucking. She was panting, twisting and he was standing there next to her. His gorgeous face flushed, his jaw taut, his irises swallowed by dilated pupils. His attention was between her legs, where he was fingering her expertly, where she was fondling herself frantically. His cock was hard as stone, the tip an angry red and glistening with the semen that leaked from the tiny hole.
"Let me suck you," she begged, her mouth watering at the thought.
With a rough, edgy sound Connor returned to the bed, lying lengthwise, his cock by her mouth, her pussy at his chest. They rolled until they faced one another, their heights so disparate, but perfect for this.
Stacey gripped his magnificent cock with two hands and angled it down to her waiting mouth.
Her tongue touched the hot tip and he cursed viciously but didn't lose the rhythm of his fingers.
He added his callused thumb to the mix, manipulating her clit with just the right pressure to set her off.
She climaxed with a muffled cry, her mouth full, her tongue fluttering rapidly over the sensitive spot just beneath the crown of his cock. He roared her name, coming hard, hips bucking in his orgasmic frenzy. Stacey took it all, every drop, sucking deeply with hollowing cheeks, drinking him down with open-throated delight.
"No more, sweetheart," he murmured huskily.
"You're killing me."
Stacey released him only when he pushed her head weakly away. He curled around and joined her, wrapping her in his arms and tossing a leg over both of hers.
Feeling cherished, she set her cheek next to his madly racing heart and fell asleep.
Chapter 11
It took a moment for Connor to realize what woke him. He was fully alert and sliding away from Stacey's warm body when it registered—footsteps approaching the front door. The window behind the scrolled wrought iron headboard overlooked the far end of the porch, and he pushed aside the sheer black curtain and peeked between the shutters.
Aidan and Lyssa were ascending the short stairs.
Cursing under his breath, he turned around and reached for his pants.
"Who is it?" Stacey asked in a sleep-husky rasp.
"Mom and Dad," he muttered.
"Huh? Oh… Ugh." She sat up, looking tousled and well fucked—kiss-swollen lips, pink cheeks, rosy skin. "Do you think telling them to mind their own business will work?"
"It damn well better." He zipped up and held out a hand to her. Tugging her from the bed, he ran a quick admiring glance down the length of her body, cupped a swaying breast, and kissed her passionately. "You get dressed. I'll get the door."
He turned away and she swatted him on the ass.
"Yes, sir."
Tossing a mock glare over his shoulder, Connor left the bedroom, traversed the hall, and unlocked the front door.
Aidan took one look at his bare chest and feet, and scowled. "Asshole."
"Shithead," Connor retorted.
"I take no responsibility for him," Aidan said to Lyssa. "He fucks up, it's not my fault."
She patted his arm. "Calm down, honey."
Connor smiled at Lyssa. "Hi."
Her returning smile was just as sweet as she was.
"Hi. I smell apple pie."
Laughing, Connor stepped back, pulling the door open wide. It was late afternoon, the hour when the sky was more orange than blue and the hottest part of the day was behind them. "I'm sure Stacey will be slicing it up soon. She's been talking about that pie all day."
"Have you moved in now?" Aidan snapped.
"Dude." Connor shook his head. "You need to get laid or take vitamins or something."
"He doesn't need to get laid," Lyssa assured, grinning.
"Yes, I do," Aidan argued, "and if you blow it for me, Bruce, I'm kicking your ass."
"Wow." Both of Connor's brows rose. "You must really have it going on, Lyssa. He's awfully anxious about pissing you off."
She offered a saucy shrug. "What can I say?"
"Hey, Doc." Stacey entered the living room from the hallway. "Want some apple pie?"
"Told ya," Connor said.
"Can we talk, Bruce?" Aidan said tightly, gesturing toward the front door.
"I don't know. Can we?" Connor set his hands on his hips. "You don't look capable of talking.
You look like you want to bitch."
Aidan stood there for a moment, still and tense.
Then a faint hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Please."
"Aw, alright."
"Want me to cut you a slice?" Stacey called after him.
"Hell, yeah." He winked at her. "I want to try some of that pie-that's-better-than-sex."
"I didn't say that!" she protested, blushing.
"You must really not have it going on," Aidan ribbed.
"Stace's
pie
is
good,
but
it's
not that good."
"Watch it."
Aidan's laughter followed Connor out the screen door and onto the porch. Moving to stand at the railing, Connor said, "Before you get started, my sex life is none of your damn business."
"We'll debate that later. Right now I gotta tell you about what happened when I woke up."
There was excitement in Aidan's voice, which caught and held Connor's attention. "Yeah?"
"I found a letter I wrote to myself."
Connor blinked. "O-kay…"
"While I was sleeping."
"Wager." Admiration filled Connor at the thought.
The lieutenant was wily and resourceful, two traits that any officer would appreciate finding in the soldiers under his command.
"Yes. I always liked him. Smart kid."
Wager was a few centuries beyond being a "kid,"
but Connor got the idea.
Aidan ran a hand through his hair. In the Twilight, he'd always kept it short. The inky locks were longer now than Connor could ever remember seeing them. The look softened the captain's features and blended with the glow of happiness visible whenever he looked at Lyssa. He was a changed man, a previously hopeless man who now had hope.
"What did it say?" Connor asked.
"He found traces of a bug inside the files you downloaded from the temple." Aidan walked over to the swinging bench and sat.
Turning, Connor rested his hip against the railing.
"A bug?"
"Yes, a virus or Trojan program that's been monitoring everything the Elders have been doing."
"Eavesdropping? "
Aidan looked at him grimly. "Yeah."
"So everything we know, someone else also knows?"
"Looks that way."
Gripping the wooden slats behind him, Connor looked across the side-lawn to the neighbor's yard. He exhaled harshly. "Any idea how long the bug has been there?"
"The letter didn't say. Wager is tracing it, but cautions us against holding our breaths. He says it'll take some time and there is no guarantee of success."
"Well, someone else out there doesn't trust the Elders either. Maybe that's a good thing for us."
"Or maybe not."
"True."
"The letter also mentioned that your dreams with Sheron could be true. Wager found a file on a program called 'dream incursion.' Something about enhancing dreams with information that would become memorable. He's working on that lead, too."
"Poor guy," Connor muttered. "How in hell did he end up with the Elite? His brain has got to be bored with all the chest thumping."