Riding the Storm (10 page)

Electricity.
Crap. She'd forgotten the experiment. The barometer indicated a slight bump in
pressure, something normal and anticipated, since the trend was on the rise.

When
she turned back to Remy, she swore his chest rose and fell a little faster than
it had been. He grew more rigid with each passing moment, his shaft developing
a more pronounced curve, the color deepening to a dusky crimson.

"Red
at night, sailor's delight," she whispered, feeling silly and giddy, and
blaming it on the fact that it was at least one in the morning.

What
she couldn't blame on the late hour was her arousal, the way her breasts
tightened and she grew impossibly wet. She wanted him inside her with a
fierceness that felt as foreign as it did natural. All that hard muscle and
restrained power bringing her pleasure again… She had to clench her thighs
together to ease the ache before she started squirming.

A
drop of milky fluid formed at the tip of Remy's cock, and she swiped her thumb
through the slick wetness. His sharp breath startled her, but his eyes were
still closed, his luscious lips slightly parted with each exhale.

Slowly,
she spread the droplet around the head, leaving a thin, shiny layer of silken
lubrication for her finger to slide through. When she returned her gaze to the
barometer again, disappointment sank deep.

No
malfunction.

Then
the pressure took a dive. The screen went dark, and a hand engulfed her wrist.

"What
the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Her
mouth went so dry she could practically taste her guilt, but she managed a
smile. "Your blanket fell off. I came over to put it back on, and I
couldn't help myself." She gave his erection a squeeze for emphasis.

"Learn,"
he growled, and pushed her hand to her side.

Angling
herself closer so he couldn't sit up without forcing her away, she closed her
fist around him again. "I'm a slow learner."

"I
doubt that," he said, as she flicked her thumb along the nerve-rich rim at
the underside of the head, and he hissed through clenched teeth.

Excitement
drilled through her, excitement and adrenaline at how the barometer had snapped
off when Remy woke up, all grumpy and growly like a bear awakened early from hibernation.
It might have been nothing. Then again, she might be on the road to an
incredible meteorological discovery.

"Dammit,
Haley," he breathed, but this time, he made no move to stop her.

The
barometer crackled back to life, and curiously, the pressure remained where it
had dropped.

Haley
returned her attention to Remy, but avoided looking directly into his eyes. It
was enough that she felt his smoldering gaze.

She
circled the cap with the flat of one hand as she worked the other inside his
pants to cup his balls, which were tight, drawn close to his body. When she
stroked the seam between them, Remy bent his knee, allowing for better access.

The
scent of his arousal, dark and musky, rose up in the muggy air, enhancing her
own, and she nearly groaned. She shifted her weight to her knees so her sex
settled on one heel. The pressure was good, too good, and the temptation to
rock back and forth until she climaxed had her clenching her teeth.

A
faint peal of thunder tested the limits of her hearing, but then Remy went
taut, and she knew she hadn't imagined the sound.

Ignoring
the need screaming inside her, she leaned forward and opened her mouth over the
broad tip of his cock. Her lips didn't touch him as she blew a long, slow puff
of hot air.

"Do
you want me to stop?" she asked, already sure of the answer but wanting
him to feel like he had control, a favorite Seducer technique.

"Remember
his psychological profile, " her Seducer trainer had said, referring to
the twenty-page document she'd been required to memorise. "Give him
control to draw him in. Take it away to expose emotion and heighten
pleasure."

And
her trainer should know, as one of two dozen specialized ACRO psychics who
received psychic impressions only during sex, when, they claimed, no human
could maintain the walls surrounding their minds.

Knuckles
cracked as his fists clenched at his sides. He opened them, closed them and
then opened them once more. "No," he said tightly. "No. You feel
too good."

Though
she'd expected the answer, she felt glad for her own reasons. She'd been alone
for far too long, stuck inside the weather lab with only a handful of
colleagues and no time for a relationship. Touching Remy, and being touched,
satisfied a need she'd neglected for years.

Hungry
for him, she brushed her lips over the hot stretch of skin from the flared head
to the base of his shaft, where she pressed the flat of her tongue firmly
against the pulse above his balls. He arched up and his fingers caressed her
scalp, encouraging but not demanding.

She
dragged her tongue back up, and his tortured groan drifted down to her, deep
and rumbling. It rumbled louder when she dipped her tongue into the weeping
slit.

Hot
and tangy, his male juices coated her tongue, drove her lust higher, and she
wished he'd touch her between her legs, where all she wore beneath her
button-down nightshirt were soaked panties. The thought of his fingers working
her to climax made her shiver with want.

"You
taste good," she said in a rush of breath. "Like a sultry summer
rain."

As if
in response, another drop welled up, and she took it greedily, applying suction
until he rocked into her. Indecision tore at her: Oh, she wanted to go all the
way, right now, with no regard to experiments or the weather or ACRO, but her
career depended on what she learned from this. Remy's career did as well.

She
glanced at the barometer. A thrill skittered through her at the slight decline.
Still, one measly millibar fluctuation was hardly proof that he affected the
weather, inadvertently or not. She needed more. Something the Seducers said
about emotion and loss of control being a trigger gave her an idea.

"Remy?"
She let her mouth hum around his shaft as she spoke.

"Mmmm."

"Do
you like this? When I suck you?"

He
tilted his hips, driving deeper, and he dropped one hand to her hip, where he
massaged, his thumb rasping against her overly sensitized tattoo until she
nearly cried out. "Fuck, yeah."

Oh,
so did she. She wanted to spread her legs and touch herself, or better yet, let
Remy touch her. His palm rubbed circles on her thigh, and his fingers, creeping
behind, slid into the crevice between her leg and her sex.

"Stop,"
she breathed. "No touching."

"Haley—"

She
sucked hard, drew his cock so deep it brushed the back of her throat. The sound
of his panting breaths echoed off the wood-paneled walls.

"I
want control, Remy." She scattered kisses along the crease on the
underside of his shaft. "You had it earlier. Give it to me now."

And
God help her, if he didn't give it to her right this second, she'd let him have
whatever he wanted, however he wanted it.

His
silence made her heart thump crazily, and she dared a look at his face. Oh,
man, she shouldn't have risked it. Her breath hitched, locked down in her
throat. The way he watched her, his stormy gaze so dominant and fiercely male,
almost had her rolling over in submission. She'd always liked her men a little
refined, more than a little minted lamb and pinot noir, but suddenly, she
wondered why, because Remy was barbecue and beer, and not the least bit
civilized.

Dev
had said Remy could be dangerous if he possessed even a tenth of the power ACRO
suspected, but she was beginning to see a very different reason for that
danger. He was a menace to women everywhere. Funny how the psychics hadn't
mentioned
that
important little detail.

Slowly
he shook his head. "I can't give you what you want."

His
words said one thing, the strain in his voice said another. She still had a
shot.

Circling
his cock with two fingers, she used her own saliva as lubricant to stroke him
with brisk, wet flicks against the shiny rim. "Just for a minute. I want
to take you with my mouth. And I want you to submit, let me suck you deep. Suck
you off."

His
fingers twitched where they rested just millimeters from her center. He cursed,
but he removed his hands. The loss of his touch made her want to cry.

Remember
the job, Haley.

She
glanced at the barometer: 29.83. Another tiny drop. Not enough.

"Put
your arms above your head. Clasp them together. If they come apart, I
stop."

He
obeyed, but more curses spilled from his mouth, and his muscles tensed, rolled
angrily beneath his skin, which now glistened with sweat. Power filled her in a
flood of energy, an aphrodisiac she'd not anticipated.

Three
millibars: 29.80.
Yes
. She hoped her equipment on the table was
recording outside conditions for comparison, because this drop was
considerable.

Thunder
rolled in the distance, but closer than before.

"Shit,"
he said raggedly. "I'm drawing it." She doubted he knew he spoke
aloud, but the struggle to regulate his breathing and emotions was obvious in
the tortured expression on his face, the way his eyes were screwed shut, his
lips pursed and pale.

When
a man comes, his walls crumble.

Beneath
her fingers, Remy trembled, and she sensed his need to bring the encounter back
to something he could dominate. Quickly, she swirled her tongue around the head
of his cock, but nerves had made her mouth go dry. Her hand shook as she
reached for her glass and sipped. One of the cubes tapped her teeth. Opening
her mouth, she sucked it in.

Remy
watched her, his eyes going wide when she closed her lips over him. The ice
swirled around his shaft, and he hissed when she used her tongue to rub the ice
up and down along the hard ridge.

"Jesus,"
he murmured. "No one has ever…
damn
."

His
hand came down on her hip again, and she shook her head. His curse rang out,
but she ignored him, used the heat of her mouth and the heat of his body to
melt the ice cube on his cock. When it was gone, she hummed, sucked upward, and
his breath grew labored, stopped and then rushed out with his primitive,
violent roar.

His
hips bucked, and he came in long, strong contractions that swelled against her
tongue and teeth. The salty, heady taste drove her hunger for him even higher,
and she eagerly sucked and pulled everything from him, loving how his body
jerked and his cock pulsed at every upward stroke of her mouth.

As
his flesh softened and his moans quieted, she licked him clean.

"God,
Haley," he said, his voice raw and little more than a gasp. "That
was…

"Great?"
she offered. "Amazing? The best ever?"

"Stupid."

"Not
the answer I was looking for, really."

Shaking
his head, still breathing hard, he levered into a sitting position, not
bothering to zip up. "What were you thinking, playing with me while I was
sleeping? And what did you plan to do with that?" He gestured to the
barometer, and she silently swore, having forgotten to look at the readings
when he climaxed.

Idiot
. No wonder ACRO hadn't assigned her as an operative.
Well, there was also the fact that she didn't possess any special abilities,
like telekinesis or the power to electrocute with a touch.

"Nothing.
I was just getting some post-storm readings."

He
gave her a flat stare. "While giving me a hand job."

Busted.
"No. I was—"

"Doing
something you shouldn't have done. Don't you get it?"

This
was it. The opening she needed. "Get what?"

He
hesitated, distrust putting an icy sheen in his already cool blue eyes.
Finally, he threw his head back against the back of the couch and pinched the
bridge of his nose. "Shit. Nothing."

Sighing,
she grabbed her water and tucked one leg beneath her on the couch. She hadn't
wanted to confess anything, but she sensed he required more from her in order
to open up like she needed him to.

"Remy,
there's something strange going on with the weather here, and I should know. I
deal with bizarre meteorological phenomenon for a living. I'm a
parameteorologist."

His
eyebrows slanted into a deep frown that matched the set of his mouth.
"You're a what? Who employs people like you?"

Careful,
Haley. Tell him the truth, but only to a point.

"Police
detectives, insurance companies, sometimes, when loss occurs under strange
weather conditions. Ditto for the NTSB. Physicians occasionally need expertise
for odd injuries—usually electrical. Once a shipping company asked me to
investigate a route where boat crews had reported blinding green flashes, up
close during clear skies:" She shrugged. "We're rare, but we
exist."