05 Desperate Match (22 page)

“C’mere,” he said in a rough voice, placing the head of his penis at her entrance. She was wet enough he could slide in, but no, he froze letting her feel him and adjust to his size.

“Rowan, I’m ready. Please.”

Dual inhalations sounded in the room, as in one stroke he slid deep inside her and didn’t move, letting her passage widen to accommodate him. She appreciated it, but really he could’ve screwed her hard and they could’ve been snuggling in the afterglow by now. “You’re torturing me,” she groaned.

“We’ve waited this long,” he said. “I’m not rushing things with my match.” His words sounded cool, but his voice gave his struggle away. He was as aroused as she and ready to get down to business.

And then he did. Her whole body shifted upward as he backed off, then pushed his way inside again. Hard. Then harder.

She urged him on, clamping inner muscles around him and leveraging her ass to meet his thrusts.

“You like it? Feel good?”

She nodded frantically, and pushed her thighs wider. His hips increased their speed pushing her to higher pinnacles of pleasure. Together, they rocked the bed with the friction of cotton sheets, slap of damp skin, and gasps of wonder playing music in their ears.

Jill felt her orgasm building and tried to swallow it back. She’d complained about Rowan’s lack of urgency before, but now she had full appreciation for his slowing things down. She wanted to savor their lovemaking. It was the first of what she hoped would be many sexual interludes in their future, but this was their first time. There’d be no duplicating it.

They’d remember this night forever. She’d remember the look on his face as he’d penetrated her for the first time. She was no virgin, but she was something better. They were virgins to each other. Every touch, every kiss was new.

And then she could no longer hold off her orgasm. It hit her with the force of a large wave crashing against the sand and rolled through her, trickling down to foaming surf. Rowan slowed his thrusts and she felt her cheeks heat as she realized he hadn’t come yet. What was the etiquette for this? In reverse, she knew the man would pull out, roll over and start snoring. She had no clue what happened when the woman came first. Then she remembered the romance novels she’d been devouring for the last month.

“You okay? Can you take more?” Rowan asked. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his pectoral muscles gleamed with effort.

“I want more,” she said, hoping her body could cash the check her mouth just wrote. She currently felt like Jell–O and unable to do more than lie back and take anything Rowan wanted to give her.

“Roll over. Get on your knees,” he ordered.

She shook her head. “I want to see you.”

His expression softened. He scanned the room, settling on the armless desk chair. He dragged it over and sat. “Hop on.” He patted one muscular thigh, but that wasn’t the muscle that caught her attention. His erection jutted out between his widespread thighs, and she understood he meant for her to ride him. She wasn’t sure she could ever move from the bed, but she found the strength to crawl up and climb on.

They shared some laughter as she awkwardly straddled his thighs and tried to angle his penis back in her body. His arm was an iron seatbelt against her back, holding her safely on the chair. They needed her hands to reach between them and guide him in. Finally she sank back on his cock and felt the missing piece of her soul click back into place.

Her toes barely brushed the carpet and she tried for leverage, but couldn’t get much of a rhythm going until Rowan braced his feet and thrust upward.

“Oh,” she gasped. At this angle he hit all the right spots, and her brain in its post–orgasm haze snapped back to attention.

“Ride me,” he urged. “Wrap your legs for leverage.”

She understood what he wanted and hooked her ankles around the back of the chair, trusting Rowan to hold her. In this position, her breasts were level with his mouth, and he took full advantage, drawing a nipple between his lips.

“Ahh.” Her head fell forward, and her lips found the taut sweaty skin of his neck. Every nerve ending in her body was at attention and screaming for mercy. Never had she experienced bliss like this. Everyone on campus had said that sex between a matched couple was sublime, but sublime wasn’t the word to describe what was happening to her now. Cataclysmic. Cosmic.
Orgasmyclysmic
? Wait, that wasn’t a word.

“Getting close.” Rowan panted and increased the speed of his thrusting hips.

“Me, too,” she gasped, shocked that her body was capable of such a feat. She’d never had multiple orgasms and had thought it was something
Cosmo
magazine had made up. She bent her head to find Rowan’s mouth and they lip–locked as her body fell apart in his, trusting him to catch her and bring her back to earth.

Deep inside she felt the hot liquid of his ejaculate holding his softening penis in place. She clung to his neck as he stood and carried her to the bed. He was some kind of superman to be able to carry her after an orgasm the size of Texas.

“What’s so funny?” he asked at her giggle.

They lay belly to belly, facing each other in the small bed, still breathing hard. “I decided you were a superhero to be able to carry me like that. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move again. Then I remembered you’re enhanced. Technically, you are a superhero,” she said.

His eyes were closed, but he flashed his white teeth in a smile. “You’re going to move again. In a few hours when my dick recharges, we’re going again.”

“What about now?”

He pulled her in tight against his damp chest and maneuvered the blanket over their sweaty bodies. “Now we sleep.”

Chapter Twelve

J
ack slumped on his couch and ignored the cell phone’s ringtone. It hadn’t stopped all day. He’d answered the first few, and wished he hadn’t. Most were from haters who wanted him arrested after Jill’s confessions on TV last night.

It hadn’t gone as planned. They’d had a good marriage, and then she’d gone on TV and lied and made him out to be some kind of violent crazy man. Had he hit her? Maybe a few times, but never that hard, and she knew he loved her, right? He was just trying to help her.

He had a second of peace from the phone and then it started ringing again. He glanced at the caller ID, and this time he answered it. It was them. The Militia. He needed to know the damn plan after last night. He hoped it was that they were raiding The Program campus, guns blazing. ‘Cause he was in. First he was going to shoot the fucker who was banging his wife; then he was grabbing Jill and getting out.

“Yeah,” he grunted into the phone.

“Mr. Thompson?”

“It’s me.”

“Your services are no longer required of the Militia. We thank you for your time. Good day.”
Click.

“What!” He stared at the handset and cursed loudly enough to scare the nonexistent neighbors. He punched in the button to call the militia back.

“Mr. Thompson, this will be your last phone call to this number. If you call it again, you will find it out of service.”

“Just tell me what the fuck is going on. You’re screwing me? You can’t do this. I don’t have my wife back yet.”

“It became clear to us last night that your wife will no longer be of use to us. She’s loyal to The Program now. Nothing short of torture would get her to talk.”

“So torture her,” he blurted.

“You’ve already taken care of that. We’re done.”

Jack heard the silence indicating he’d been hung up on. He hurled the phone across the room where it dented the drywall, then fell to the wood floor. It was over. He’d lost Jill. He spent the rest of the day lying on the couch with the television on but not watching it. He was officially the most miserable son of a bitch in America. It was all Jill’s fault. She was a bitch. She didn’t deserve him.

He wouldn’t take her back if she begged. Wait, he’d take her back long enough to teach her a lesson. She needed to understand loyalty and obedience to her husband. He didn’t need the militia; he’d get her back on his own. If he had to, he’d wait outside the gates of her new home. She had to leave eventually, right?

As if by magic, his phone rang again and something made him answer it.

“Jack Thompson?” A low male voice was on the other end.

“Yeah?”

“I know where your wife is. The Militia has abandoned you, but I will not. A man has a right to discipline his wife.”

“I’m listening.” He sat straighter on the couch, feeling the first glimmer of hope in forty–eight hours. A smile stretched across his face as his savior gave him the details of where his wife was working.

“You get one shot,” the stranger warned. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t,” he promised, but the line was already dead.

* * * * *

“Jill, wait up. Can I speak to you for a second?”

She froze in place wondering what Commander Shepard had to say to her. There was no option to say no. The man was Rowan’s boss, but given how long Rowan had made love to her this morning, she was running late for work. “Um, sure.” She glanced at her bare wrist where a watch would be. “I have some time before work.” She hoped she hadn’t sounded rude, but had correctly given the impression that she didn’t have all day to dally.

“This will only take a minute.” The commander caught up to her and stood a foot away facing her. She waited.

“I wanted to apologize to you.”

Her brows furrowed. As far as she could remember, she and the commander had only spoken once before. He’d never done anything deserving forgiveness.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” he explained. “I wanted you off campus, and my reasons were selfish. You were a complication I didn’t need.”

Her lips parted and the apology that could’ve been automatic refused to leave. Why apologize now? Was it because of her TV interview, and how she’d swung America’s sympathy to The Program? How convenient.

“Yeah, I was angry at Rowan at first,” Shep continued, “but I realize now he was right. Seeing you on TV last night reminded me that we’re not just here to protect the country in international issues. There are problems here at home. What kind of people would we be if we ignored them?”

She found her voice. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll start working on finding couple housing for you, and as soon as your divorce is final, we’ll get the formal matching paperwork documents signed.”

“Documents?” What documents was he talking about? Rowan had never mentioned anything and neither had Loren or any of her other new friends.

“Simple contracts officially giving you a place on campus and some NDAs.”

“NDAs?” The man was speaking in a foreign language.

“Non–disclosure agreements,” Shep explained. “Basic paperwork that means you promise to keep any facts about our organization secret. But since you work a civilian job off campus, you’ll never learn any secrets in the first place, so it’s really a moot point.”

She nodded like she understood. “What if someone thinks I know secrets?”

“What do you mean?” Shep looked wary.

“Like if they think I know stuff and they kidnap me and torture me to get me to spill secrets.”

Shep smiled slightly. “You’ve been watching too much television. Since we’ve had several kidnappings in the last year, I won’t say your concern is completely unfounded. If you’re truly worried, stop working at Ikea. Stay on campus.”

Stay on campus like it was a prison? “No.”

“I didn’t think so. In that case, be aware of your surroundings and don’t make yourself a victim.”

As someone who’d been a professional victim for nearly a decade, she wasn’t sure one could always help circumstances, but the risk was still worth it. Quitting her job and becoming totally dependent on Rowan and The Program wasn’t in her game plan. She never wanted to be totally dependent on anyone again. A piece of her mourned for the loss. Other people in relationships counted on each other, but she might’ve lost the bit of her soul that could relinquish itself into another’s care. She loved Rowan and didn’t doubt his love for her, but she’d never place her physical and financial well–being entirely in his hands. She had to own it.

“Now get to work,” Shep said, reminding her she was running late.

She turned to walk toward the exit nearest her bus stop when Shep called her back.

“Jill, take a car.”

She spun back to see a set of shiny beautiful car keys in his fingers. “For real?”

“Absolutely. These are the keys to the black SUV closest to the door. Hit unlock when you enter the garage and you’ll see which car.”

She snatched at the keys and only remembered to shout her thanks to the commander when she was halfway to the garage. A car. It was almost beyond belief. A wild thought struck as she realized, she could get in the car and drive anywhere she wanted to go. She could be in Colorado by tomorrow. Or New York City. She’d always wanted to see the Big Apple. But there was no need to run. She had a steady job with a decent paycheck and a man she loved who would travel to any of those cities any time she asked.

As she climbed into the car and adjusted the seat and mirrors, she caught a glimpse of the ear–to–ear grin spreading her lips. They were lips that had lipstick and a smile. It was quite a different view than a few months ago when she’d had nothing to smile about and no money for lipstick. Yeah, it was going to be a kick–ass day.

The day sucked. She was bombarded the second she entered work. Other employees surrounded her in the employee locker room. Almost everyone was positive and supportive about last night’s interview, but she’d preferred the anonymity.

By lunchtime the stares had started. At first everyone wanted to extend their support about getting out of an abusive relationship. One woman shared her own marriage horror story. But soon they’d remembered she wasn’t just a normal woman who’d escaped a mean husband. She was now a woman shacking up with a genetically enhanced soldier. She was a curiosity, an
other
.

No one dared ask her about Rowan or The Program, but she walked into a conversation about her that stopped abruptly the second she was spotted. Her fellow employees hadn’t spotted her quickly enough to stop her from overhearing giggles and speculation about all the ways in which The Program soldiers might be enhanced. The sexual innuendo was unmistakable, and the temptation to join the conversation and indicate penis size with one of the omnipresent tape measures was truly tempting. She managed to resist, remembering Loren’s warning that for better or worse, she was now the public face of The Program.