Unleashing the Storm (9 page)

The
dewy grass tickled her toes as she headed toward the barn. She didn’t need the
bright light from the nearly full moon to guide her—she could find the barn
blindfolded—but it helped her keep an eye out for Tom, who was nowhere to be
found.

Lifting
her nose, she inhaled, seeking his scent. Now that they’d mated, his fragrance
had become a beacon, stronger than it had been before, and she should be able
to smell him if he was nearby. She caught a lingering impression—he’d been this
way recently.

Frowning,
she stopped at the stack of hay bales that had been delivered yesterday and
that needed to be hauled into the barn. A T-shirt lay draped over one corner.
Horse snorts and sleepy chicken trills and the sounds of animals moving about
in stalls collided in her ears, but no footsteps.

She
glanced back toward the house, cursing. Derek might be her only option right
now. But dammit, sleeping with him would only cause problems this early in the
game. Dinner had been mildly amusing, the way the two men had been so blatantly
competitive, but in all seriousness, the rivalry was a bad sign. Clearly,
neither was the type to share, and she had no time or desire to deal with
jealousy or posturing or idiotic alpha-male chest pounding. And unfortunately,
Tom and Derek seemed to be as alpha as it got.

Hands
on hips, she looked into the distance, into the forest behind the farm, up the
hill toward the exotic animal acres, in the field to the west.

The
field where one of the horses frolicked, seemingly chasing a man. A man who
moved like an Olympic sprinter. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes. There
was no way a human could keep up with a horse. No, her eyes
weren’t
playing tricks on her. The man was Tom, and he was running a race with Shamal,
her little gray Arabian mare.

She
inhaled sharply, her mind trying to make sense of what she was watching. Did
Tom possess some sort of animal gift like hers? Was he somehow genetically
enhanced? She wouldn’t put it past the government to try something like that.
Especially with soldiers.

The
graceful power of his body mesmerized her, drew her, made every cell quiver
until they felt ready to burst, and she suddenly didn’t care if he was Robocop.
Heat washed over her until her clothes felt sticky and confining, and she
stripped out of them, spread them on the bales of hay. She threw back her head
and let the night breeze cool her, caress her naked, tingling skin.

When
she looked up again, Tom was heading back, following Shamal now as she cantered
in a beautiful, easy stride. It was hard to believe that at one time the horse
had been so starved she’d been only hours away from death.

Kira
climbed up on the bales of hay and stretched out, stomach down on the clothes,
wanting a view of Tom as he jogged in, wanting to be ready for him.

She
lifted her hips slightly, slid her hand down her stomach, dipped her fingers
between her legs and found that she was definitely ready. Her juices already
ran hot and heavy, matching her breathing, her pulse, her desire.

Burying
her fingers to the second knuckle inside her core, she stroked herself. Her
blood surged, and she knew she wouldn’t last long once Tom entered her. Heck,
she was on the verge now. She imagined her thumb circling her clit was Tom’s
tongue, that her fingers were his…it had been so long since any man had done
more than simply screw her, and she craved the attention.

Tom’s
attention.

He
drew closer, her breath grew more rapid and, reluctantly, she slid her hand
from between her legs and admired the way his sinuous, effortless lope brought
him to her quickly. As he slowed, she reached for him. “Tom.”

A
blur of silvery, shadowy motion hijacked her vision. Pressure and a pinch of pain
shot through her. She barely had time to blink, and then the pressure and pain
evaporated. The hand that had been crunching down on the back of her neck was
gone, balled in a fist beside Tom’s thigh.

“Fuck!
Kira, what the hell? You scared the shit out of me.”

She
pushed up to her knees and brushed bits of hay from her cheek that had been
smashed into the bales of hay.

“Yeah,”
she muttered, moving her hand to rub the back of her neck. “Ditto.”

His
sharp, angry scent mingled with the sudden musky scent of arousal. Her lack of
clothing had registered.

“What
are you doing?” His voice, already slightly labored from his run, now sounded a
little low and rough. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why
aren’t you?”

He
swore, ran a hand through his hair. “I needed to burn off some energy.”

She
twisted around to sit on the bale, planted her feet on the edges and spread her
legs wide, letting the cool night air ease her where she burned. “So did I.”
Boldly, she palmed her inner thigh and stroked her way to her sex. Using the
tips of two fingers, she found her bud, swollen, hard, slippery. “I hope you
didn’t burn off too much.”

His
audible swallow rang in her ears, almost as loud as the hum of blood rushing
through them. “No, ma’am.”

She’d
never masturbated in front of a man, but thanks to the extra hour, her need had
doubled, and the more aroused he was, the more semen he’d spill. Besides,
inhibitions flew the coop when she was in heat. When her cycle was over, she’d
be humiliated and full of regret at the things she’d done, but right now she
didn’t care.

Biting
back a moan, she slid her two fingers, one on each side of her clit, up and
down, and then added a grind with her hips.

“I’ve
imagined your tongue doing this,” she said, and the way he watched her, his
gaze like blue fire, set her blood alight like her veins contained gasoline.

“I’ve
imagined the same thing.” He took a step toward her, and though she was dying
to let him do what she suspected he was going to do, she couldn’t wait any
longer.

Quickly,
she shimmied down the hay pile. She strutted up to him, drew a finger through
the sheen of moisture on his bare, muscular chest. “Another time. Right now I
need you inside me.”

“You
aren’t afraid to ask for what you want, are you?”

She
shuddered at the sound of his voice, at the heavy scent of her arousal, and
his, at the way his nostrils flared as she dragged her hand down through the
light dusting of chest hair. “Never.”

Spreading
her fingers, she flattened her palm over his abs, took in the way they bunched
beneath her touch. A wave of dizziness spun her head, and there was no more
time for foreplay.

Greedily,
she yanked down his sweat-dampened shorts. His cock, dusky and marbled by thick
veins, curved upward so the tip nearly touched his stomach, and beneath the
magnificent length, his sac drew tight before her eyes. As she rolled her spine
straight, she let her cheek brush his erection, let the velvety skin caress
hers. The way his breath caught and his body went taut brought on another wave
of dizziness and desire. Oh, she wanted to take the time to taste him, to suck
him until he begged her to let him come, but the dull ache in her womb had
worsened.

Damn
that extra hour.

“Now,
Tommy,” she whispered.

Before
he could move, she swung a leg up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and
clambered up him like he was a tree.

He
barely had time to grasp her butt to support her before she lowered herself
onto his cock and impaled herself deep.

“Jesus,
Kira,” he growled, and, oh, God, his voice alone…her climax blasted through
her.

She
screamed with the intensity of it, with the sweet, sharp pleasure that went on
and on. Searing flashes of light exploded behind her eyelids, and she writhed
against him, felt him lift her up and down, drilling into her core. The
incredible strength it would take to do something like that barely registered
because all that mattered was finding relief that orgasm couldn’t bring.

Not
her orgasm anyway.

“Come,
Tommy, please…”

She
fell forward, burying her face in his neck. The stroke of his shaft against her
pulsing inner walls brought her to the edge again, and she dug her nails deeply
into the ropy muscles between his shoulder blades. He was so strong, so raw,
and she could only bear so much. Groaning in exquisite pleasure, she ground
against him. A shudder went through her, appreciation for the hard body holding
her softer one. The sensation of skin sliding against skin fogged her brain
until all she could do was feel.

And
the things she felt…fire where their bodies joined, her juices flowing down his
cock, his tawny chest hair rubbing her hard nipples…God, she’d never get
enough.

She
tightened her secret muscles around his shaft, squeezed so hard she felt his
pulse in the sensitive ring of tissue at her entrance.

“Oh,
man,” he panted, and he swelled inside her, his release so close she could feel
it coming.

“Tommy,
fill me…”

He
grunted, rammed upward so hard she nearly lost her grip, and then his hot wash
of seed spread through her insides like the caress of a million tiny fingers,
and she came apart again. Flexing so violently she felt a pop in her spine, she
bucked against him, let her channel clench and milk every drop he could give
her.

Slowly,
the sexual haze receded, and she eased back on her gyrating hip motions that
made Tom’s body jerk reactively.

“Thank
you,” she said, her voice quavering, and he merely nodded, his breathing still
coming in panting rumbles.

Her
legs felt rubbery and liquid as she let them slide down his magnificent body,
let his semi-erect cock slip from her sex. He watched her, his eyes hooded and
not giving anything away, but she got the impression he didn’t know what to
make of her. No one did, no matter how hard she prayed to find someone who
could.

When
her heel caught on a baling twine, his hand flashed out to steady her, and this
time his gaze took on a slightly protective gleam. Now might be the perfect
opportunity to set some ground rules for the safety and best interests of all
involved.

“Look,”
she said, as she retrieved her clothes from the hay bales, “we need to get a
few things out in the open.”

He
arched an eyebrow and pulled up his shorts. “And those would be?”

“You
are never, ever to come into my bedroom unless I invite you. Don’t even knock
unless there’s an emergency.” She slipped her tank over her head. “And just
because you’re servicing me, don’t think that gives you any special privileges
around here.”

He
nodded, and she swore one corner of his mouth twitched in an amused smile
before it twitched right back to Mr. Grim Face.

She
pulled on her shorts. “And last, but not least, don’t think sex equals a
relationship. You don’t own me, you have no claims to me, and you have no say
in my life. I do what I want, and I see who I want. And, of course, the same
goes for you.”

Now
he didn’t look amused at all. In fact, his lips pulled into an even deeper
frown, though no other outward signs that he’d even heard her were visible.
“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

Slipping
past him, she headed toward the exotic-animal pens to make her night rounds.

Hopefully,
if she needed Derek—or anyone else—soon, Tom would remember what she’d said
about seeing whom she chose. She’d also set some of her limitations, something
she’d learned long ago she needed at this critical time. A tight rein on her
life, especially during the spring, kept her world as controlled as possible, a
vital element since the fever made her vulnerable.

A
tight rein also kept her alive.

The
C-130 leveled off, bouncing in the turbulence. Dev kept one hand on the yoke to
steady the plane and prepared to go home.

“Dream
Catcher, this is Ghost Control—we’ve got Deltas lookin’ for a ride home.” The
controller on the radio issued lat and long, and Dev checked the charts.

“Ghost
Control, this is Dream Catcher. Roger, copy your coordinates. We’ll see you in
thirty,” Dev said. He gave a nod to his copilot and banked the empty plane
around, reversing course. The unusual order piqued his curiosity—and his sense
of foreboding. Somewhere, something had gone wrong if his crew was being tagged
for a last-minute pickup.