CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Zane
One large window overlooked the lagoon where our bungalows stood, the water still calm. From the fifth floor, we could see the water was rising, moving closer inland. Sloane sighed and closed the curtain. “I’ll never go back there. As soon as this storm is over, they’ll come to take me away.”
I pulled her tighter against me. “We should make a plan. We need to figure things all the way out. Not just wait to see what happens.”
The room was luxurious, but I liked the rustic feel of the bungalows better. In the middle of the room, a king-sized four-poster bed took up most of the space. Green palm-tree-imprinted material covered the bed, the windows, even the shower.
A small flat-screen television hung on the wall in front of the bed while a long dresser took up the space underneath it. Next to that sat a mini-fridge, packed to the max with drinks. Another one had fruits and cheeses in it. There were two baskets filled with packages of nuts of every kind, assorted cookies, and crackers filled with different stuffing. We wouldn’t starve, but there’d be no fine dining. At least there was plenty of wine and a nice bottle of Scotch.
I poured us each a glass of a wine, hoping it would be just the thing to settle Sloane.
She wasn’t quite herself. She seemed oddly uncertain. Wary of what was going to happen.
I wasn’t a planner, never had been, but I felt like if we had a plan of action, then both of us would feel better. Two chairs were on either side of a tiny round table. The whole setup looked uncomfortable to me, so I opted for the bed.
Kicking off my shoes, I nodded toward the expansive space. “Come, let’s get comfortable while we sip wine and plan out our future.”
Sloane pulled her sandals off and joined me on a mattress that wasn’t nearly as soft as the one we left behind. Lying on her side, she took the glass I offered her. The red of the dark wine stained her lips as she took a sip. “This is nice.”
I propped myself up on a couple of the pillows and sat back, tasting the wine. “It is good. Now to talk about the future.”
“We can plan all you want, Zane, but you have to know that, in the end, the planning will be done for me. I’ll follow orders. You’ll follow orders. It’s how this job goes.”
“Then quit. You don’t need this shit. I can take care of you.” The words left my mouth before my brain could shut me up. But they were out there, so I left them right where they were.
She took another long sip. “I’m not about to quit. I put too much of myself into this job. I love it.” She met my gaze straight on. “Is that going to be a deal breaker for you? If it is, I’d like to know now.”
And there it was. Sloane wasn’t going to quit. Not for me, anyway. She was a strong woman, with firm commitments to her career, a thing that was respectable.
Which meant I’d have to get over my qualms about her being in danger.
Could I do that?
I couldn’t force her to let me take care of her. I had to let her do what she wanted. No matter how unsafe it was.
“Okay, so you’ll be staying on with the FBI. Where do I stand in all that?”
“Anywhere you want.”
As easy as it was for her to say that, it wasn’t exactly easy for me to understand. “So, am I to stay in Queens or—”
“I don’t live in Queens. My parents do. I have a one-bedroom apartment in Washington, D.C. I also spend time in Virginia at Quantico as often as they let me. When I’m there, I tend to stay in the dorms.”
“You sound kind of busy.” It was all beginning to settle. She wouldn’t have time for me.
She took another long sip. “I am. I have little time off. My life is always a bit hectic. And I can be called into action at any time. I know it’s daunting to think about life with me.” She licked her lips. “I understand that, and I won’t blame you if you want to call it off once this is over, which will be very soon.”
Sloane was hard. I’d never done hard before. I’d never put this much of myself into another person. But I wasn’t afraid of trying.
Taking the drink out of her hand, I set it down and pushed her shoulders onto the bed, hovering over her. “You know… this entire conversation is a buzzkill. We could spend the next day or two talking about all kinds of serious shit, or we could spend it having fun and making love.” I kissed her. “And then, once all this is over, I’m going to show you why you’ll want to work every bit as hard as I will to make sure we stay together. I hope you’re ready for me.”
The blue of her eyes went dark. “Zane, I think I’ve been ready for you my entire life.”
My fingers grazed a path up her inner thigh, moving under the hem of her shorts. With the flat of my palm, I pressed it against her warm mound. “I’m going to show you who owns this.”
But instead of pulling her shorts off and fucking her again, I rolled onto my back, linking my hands under my head.
She cocked her head. “Um… what are you doing?”
“Do you know the movie True Lies?”
She blinked at me. “Yes. The spy movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis that was released about a year or so after I was born.”
Ouch.
I ignored her smirk. “Yeah, it’s one of my all-time favorites.”
She pulled an Arnold accent. “It’s not a tuuumah.”
“Wrong movie. Anyway, there’s this scene that—”
She rolled her eyes and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Let me guess. It’s the scene where Jamie pole dances on the bed.” She snorted. “Typical.”
“Hey now, typical or not, that scene is classic.”
“Yeah, it stars in every boy’s wet dream.” She picked up her wine. “And what exactly does that have to do with you…” she slapped a hand on her crotch, “owning this?”
I laughed. God, she was freaking adorable.
I waved my hand. “Don’t change the subject.”
She raised a pale brow. “And what exactly is the subject?”
I sucked at French in high school, but I had the accent pretty much down pat. “Dance for me. Dance sexy.”
She batted her lashes at me. “Let my hands be my lover’s hands?”
I clapped. “Exactly.”
“No.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “No?”
She took a sip of her drink. “Exactly.”
I wasn’t ashamed to beg. “Please.”
She laughed. “No. Talking about a buzzkill. Your buzz will forever be killed if you witness my attempt at dancing.”
I linked my hands behind my head again. “I think I should be the judge of that.”
“You know. I don’t have to strip for you.” She batted those long lashes again. “I’m a sure thing.”
“Strip.”
She looked around. “There’s no music.”
I pulled my phone for my pocket and tapped a few times, grinning as “Alone In The Dark” by John Hiatt & The Goners began to play.
“Seriously?” She looked at me, incredulous. “You are a True Lies fan.”
“Strip.”
She looked around again, searching for an excuse. “But I’ll ruin it for you. Don’t you want Jamie to live forever in your mind for this?”
“Strip.”
She pouted and gulped the rest of her wine. Then she took mine from the nightstand and gulped it. “What do I get if I do?”
I dropped a hand to my crotch, gave my cock a good shake.
She laughed. “Like I’m not going to get that anyway.” Her eyes widened. “I know. If I strip for you, you’ll…” she tapped her lips in thought, “let me tie you up.”
I grinned. I was down with that.
She grinned too. “Ever had a vibrator up your ass?”
I jerked upright, my butt cheeks squeezed to the max. “No!”
“I’ve heard some guys like it that way? I’m sure I brought mine with me.”
I was off the bed. “No!”
She laughed. A full belly laugh that caused tears to squirt from her eyes. My sphincter relaxed, and I sank back down on the bed, eyeing her closely.
“Come on, Zane…” She unfastened the top button of her blouse, swaying to the music. “Don’t you think it’s a fair trade?” The second button was next. “I’ll be gentle.”
All thoughts of vibrators and asses fled my mind as she slid one side of the blouse off one shoulder.
“Slower.”
Pulling her lip between her teeth, she went slower, her eyes on me as she swayed like a cobra, entrancing me with her movements. The blouse slid off the other shoulder, then fell slowly to the floor.
My cock pulsed. “Take the bra off first.”
Her eyes still locked on mine, she reached back and unhooked it, letting it drop just enough to show the top curve of her breast. I groaned, and she let the bra fall away, only to raise and squeeze her breasts with her hands.
Unzipping my shorts, I took my cock in my hand and stroked down the length. She smiled and moved to the bedpost at the foot of the bed. Pulling a Jamie, she licked it, and I nearly came in my hand.
This woman was going to end me.
The music shifted to “Earned It” by The Weekend, and Sloane’s nostrils flared, her hands sliding over her body as I masturbated to her. The shorts slid down her legs, leaving her naked except for the white lace panties covering only part of her ass.
She was wet. Part from where I’d fucked her earlier, and part from her excitement now.
“Touch yourself.”
Her chest heaved as she squeezed her breasts, then one hand trailed down her stomach to cover her center. She cried out as she touched her clit through the wet material.
“Take off your panties.”
Slowly, she did as I said, and her hand went back to her center, one finger moving through her folds. God, she was sexy. My cock was like steel in my hand. I wanted to stop this game. I wanted to drive into her. But I also didn’t want this to end.
Sloane’s thighs shook as she circled her clit, her gaze dropping to my hand. She licked her lips, and it was my greatest desire to slide my cock between them, but I held back, wanting to watch the beautiful goddess in front of me explode.
My balls clenched with need, but I gripped the base hard to stop from coming too soon. This was too good, too quietly intimate. I was a voyeur and a participant. And so was she.
“God, Zane.” The words were light and barely audible in the still air, whispered just as a rumble of thunder disrupted the quiet outside.
I stroked harder too, my hand moving in time with hers. I was certain the expression on my face was just as urgent. The need just as great. As was the sense of raw intimacy I felt having sex with a woman I wasn’t touching.
Sloane exploded first, her legs trembling, her face a picture of beautiful agony. She fell forward on the bed, and I pulled her to me, up me, replacing my hand with her body.
She screamed as I impaled her down on me, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her breath harsh pants in my face.
“Use me, Sloane,” I said as she began to grind down onto me, taking what I had to give. “That’s right. Make yourself feel good. Ride me, grind me. It doesn’t matter.”
What I said was the truth. I’d take Sloane Anderson any way she’d let me.
The storm outside began in earnest, almost in competition to the storm occurring in our room.
She moved up and down, her walls stretching to accommodate me, sheathing me with warmth. I could feel every little movement she made.
When she arched her hips, she became even tighter. When she moved her legs, I felt the difference too. Slight changes in the way she held her body affected the way she felt inside.
I’d never cared enough to take the time to notice all the details of lovemaking.
As she came, and I followed, I noticed everything, then seared it into my mind so I’d never forget. A huge blast of lightning lit up the room just as the lights went out. We’d most likely be left in darkness for the rest of the storm.
For some reason, that didn’t bother me one bit.