“Hill…” Climax licked at her then, her legs were totally and deliciously limp against the onset of orgasm. Her upper body was curved at a precarious angle but Hill’s grip was stern, erotic in its possessiveness.
Her fingers tunneled through the glorious forest of his hair and she was overcome as much by mind-numbing arousal as she was by the reality of the formidable man at her feet paying homage to her body with such a tireless intensity and unmatched desire. She fixated on the fact that he was hers. That he had professed to wanting that status to forever stand, loosed whatever ties she’d managed to tether around her raging hormones.
“Hill...I can’t…”
“Okay,” exerting the kind of strength that only he could, Hill positioned her beautifully and brought her up and down over his very talented and active tongue.
A base, appreciative sound rippled from the back of her throat and she shattered. Stunned by the flood that followed, she made an effort to pull back.
Hill wasn’t the least interested in allowing her to do that. He held her fast, then literally drinking in the results of his attention to her sex. His need threatened to have him bursting free of his zipper by then and he knew he was at the limits of his own restraint. Persephone was still shuddering, her lush brown frame enveloping him in drugging fragrance and curvaceous appeal. That she was his; and soon to be unquestionably his in the eyes of God and man, was a reality he’d not allowed himself to dream of until he’d put his ring on her finger.
Rising effortlessly from the knee he’d taken, Hill held Persephone nestled against his chest once more. He carried her beyond the small living room to the cozy bedroom which was situated between the living area and the quaint kitchen in the back.
Persephone was adoring his jaw with soft, open mouthed pecks and then more boldly with open mouthed kisses as if to nibble her taste from his skin. Her quiet, whimpering moans would surely be his undoing, Hill thought. With more urgency than he’d intended, he set her down to the high four poster king on a platform in the inviting room.
Firelight shone upon the walls. It danced against the slight draft seeping through the stones, erotically entrancing, as it flickered in from the living room hearth.
“Wait Sef,” Hill urged when Persephone started to push up to her elbows. “Let me undress first. Coming inside my pants, isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
She smiled, her silver gaze alight with teasing fire. “Surely a guy like you doesn’t have to deal with such things?”
“He does when you’re in his bed.”
“Oh...sorry…”
“Liar.”
Persephone lay there, biting her lip and loving the new picture emerging before her eyes as his clothes landed on the plush, earth-toned rug. Her heart was pounding in her ears and at the back of her throat by the time his strip tease drew to a close. Then, he was crawling toward her on the bed.
“Now why do you get to take off everything while I have to keep on these deathtraps?”
Hill spared a moment to glance back at her shoes. “Sexy deathtraps make all the difference. Now hush up. I’m gonna have you walk over my back in them later.”
She laughed. “And what are we gonna do now?” her query was chased by a sharp, approving cry when he filled her in one deliciously intrusive stroke.
Her cry shook as did the rest of her. Instinctively, she wound her legs about his back.
“We’re going to do this now,” he sighed in contentment of being fully seated inside her with pleasure mainlining his veins.
Persephone felt her eyelids grow heavy beneath the weight of sensation. Thoroughly stretched and filled sent more whimpering moans floating past her lips. The sounds were absorbed when Hill took her mouth, his tongue filling her there as absolutely as his sex did hers.
He lost himself inside her, pumping his hips slow and affecting one moment, relentless and branding the next. Persephone’s cries adopted a breathless sobbing manner that only heightened in volume and potency.
“Am I too much?” he panted against her ear.
She shivered. “Yes and if you value breathing you’ll stay right where you are.”
“Yes ma’am,” when he shifted, it was to raise up on his knees and spread her legs for deeper penetration.
There were no complaints. Luxuriating in love and sexual satisfaction, Persephone smoothed her hands across the decadent bed, through her hair and across her skin.
Hill’s fathomless stare followed every dip and glide she made across her body. She used the hand adorned with his ring and he was so struck by the fact that he was soon smothering her beneath him once more.
The sounds of wood crackling amidst flames,
mingled with lover’s cries well into the blissful night.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
The players were assembled for a mission which had played a role to varying degrees of intensity in their lives. For some, the degree of intensity made it difficult for them to look upon the mission as simply an opportunity to mark a case closed. It was an opportunity to exorcise lingering demons- some that; despite the fulfilling lives they now led, were still impossible to shake.
Hill made good use of the information stored in the files sent over from Contessa House Publishing. After two days of phone tag, he’d connected with Malloy Lincoln. Lincoln, a retired contractor, had been on the design team for Shelanon’s fortress.
The news he’d shared had been bittersweet. Lincoln confirmed that the location they sought was just outside Medora, North Dakota. He additionally shared that Shelanon may have changed the entire infrastructure of the subterranean compound. To make things more challenging, Lincoln noted that entry-undetected entry- required bypassing two tiers. One by releasing a series of levers in sequence. Another, by inputting a ten digit security code. The group assigned to infiltration would have none of the information necessary for success.
Lincoln additionally noted that entry could be gained by explosives. That tactic would however be messy and would give Shelanon time to activate his fail-safes.
Hill accepted that was a chance they had
little choice but to take.
~~~
“Does it feel strange?”
Dena smiled, but didn’t turn to her husband when she heard his voice. Instead, she kept her dark eyes on the barrel of the Luger she polished.
“It doesn’t,” she said, “does that make me a psychotic?”
“No,” Carlos grinned. “Just a person who hasn’t forgotten how to use a gun,” he sat nearby, not touching, but close enough to study his wife’s face.
“I’m sure about this, Los,” She met his stirring pale green eyes with her dark ones. “Thanks for not giving me grief about needing to be part of this.”
