Dark Control (DARC Ops Book 4) Page 7

  “Having fun yet?”

  “Please,” Matthias whimpered. “Please . . .

  It was all he could do, begging for it. He had nothing sexy or witty to say, no play-acting, only the raw desire which ate away at his mental faculties, eroding any sensible thought, any communication beyond one-word, one-syllable pleading sounds.

  “Please what?” she said. “That doesn’t sound like a man who wants it.”

  “Want it . . . I want it.”

  She had his tip sliding closer and closer.

  “You gonna show me how bad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You ready?”

  He almost whimpered.

  Matthias felt her hips tilting up and finally allowed him to slip inside her and he was already pumping hard, from the bottom, his hips pushing into her with a frenetic force. She pushed back against him, arching her back and changing the angle in a way that made his eyes cross. Working himself in and out of her was the most exquisite sensation that he’d ever had, the way her body clamped onto him so snugly and perfectly. He felt more of himself drifting away, more of his consciousness dissolving as he became a mess of sensations.

  Finally, he was having his fun, from the bottom, but he needed more control. He needed more flexibility and range to do what he craved in that moment.

  Matthias scooted out from under Laurel, spinning her over, him on top now and working harder, spreading her legs wider and thrusting deep into her core. Laurel was grunting with him, taking the pressure, the pounding. He was knocking into her as hard as she’d wanted. It was part of their agreement, his reward for having a bit of patience. That little task was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever done, assignments with DARC Ops included. And thank God that it was over, that he’d no longer have to show such restraint, and thank God that it was exactly what Laurel wanted, his unbridled lust to come raging back into her.

  She’d been very quiet with his work, the two of them concentrating quietly, almost solemnly. No words. He was back on top of her, his mouth on her neck, feeling her breathing, tasting her sweat. It took a few moments to realize that she’d already dug into his back with her nails, likely leaving long red streaks up and down. Likely bleeding. The pain of her nails was exhilarating, that mix of pain and pleasure. She was probably feeling something similar, the way Matthias was working so hard into her. He’d mix it up, from soft and hard, going down to kiss her, or to suck on her breasts, before backing away and leaning back and just completely killing her exactly how she’d wanted to be killed.

  10

  Laurel

  She got what she asked for. His size and his strength, and his stamina, had been destroying her with each blast of his body into hers. With each hard pump she gripped tighter onto his back until her arms lost all strength, falling like two useless twigs to the mattress. They lay there, stretched out, her hands holding onto two clumped-up mounds of bedsheets. That was all she had left, just holding on for dear life, holding on during the wild ride as the bed rocked and shook hard underneath her. Something about sex with Matthias reminded Laurel of one of those mechanical bull rides at country bars, where she’d fight to hold on despite the bucking, despite the strength, only this time she wasn’t on top of the huge creature, but underneath, and still having to grip the bed as if she might fly off somewhere. She also had to fight to stay conscious during the onslaught, her vision going a little dark and blurry, her breathing way too fast and shallow. Finally, she felt it, the killing that was so necessary. She’d meant it at the time as a euphemism for a good, hard, mind-destroying fuck, but what it really meant was for her old self, her old life, to be finally killed off. And what better way to kill it off than to take this absolute stud to bed and ramp up his lust to such a point that she might emerge after, after surviving the onslaught, as a changed person. She would crawl out of the rubble of her past relationship and of this new recent destruction, and be faced with the challenge of forging a new identity.

  So far, underneath him, her mind couldn’t work well enough to find that identity. In the heat of the moment, she had no answer, no direction, only that this was the best sex of her entire life. Perhaps that could be her short-term identity, a temporary life stuck underneath Matt at all times, her legs wrapped around his hips, her claws into his back, her body and soul being reprogrammed.

  What new woman would emerge from this bedroom?

  She had already taken several huge steps today, beginning with her confrontation with Jason—getting her things out of that fucking garage and away from him for good. And then the confrontation with him at the bar. But perhaps the biggest step was her time with this new man. She was surprised how easily she could ease into the dating world, the flirtation, the excitement. She had imagined herself going years before she could even work up the desire to start looking, much less find someone suitable to date. Looking was perhaps the scariest part. And here she was, dancing, drinking, laughing. And now, fucking like an animal and coming so close to having another earth-shattering orgasm.

  She couldn’t believe how easy it was. In a single day, she had traveled around the world, from zero to sixty, from dead to killed and reborn and alive.

  Alive. That’s what this was. Not killing, not death, but her sudden clarity. The dizziness had lifted, the foggy edges of a possible fainting spell diminished. She could see the room with clarity, and she could see him, Matt, the sexy strain in his face, him biting his lip, his eyes closed, him lowering his head and just concentrating into her. She could feel every inch of her body pulsate with pleasure, everything radiating outward from where Matt had done the most killing. A mixture there of battered soreness and warming, glowing electricity. It was the epicenter of her destruction, where a surging bright light radiated through her body and up into her mind. And then there was a sound, a rising primal scream that deafened her. And then Laurel realized that it was her own anguished cries as her orgasm sparked through her.

  She woke up to the distinct feeling that she was naked, her ceiling fan blowing onto her bare skin. She never slept like that. She reached down for her bedsheet, and out of the corner of her eye saw a long leg pointing to the foot of the bed. Above that, a meaty, muscled thigh, and then a . . . Matt.

  She could smell him, that deep earthy musk. It was in her dream, too, where she clung on to the back of a shirtless warrior riding a horse, her face buried in that scent. They had been riding in a dark wood, crossing over a few stony brooks before reappearing in a golden meadow. And that’s when she woke, the lamplight from outside shining into her eye. And now it sparkled off Matt’s eyes as they opened slowly.

  Laurel hoped that he was coming to the same happy realization that she had. That it wasn’t just a dream. That it was still happening, still real. She rolled over, into him, back into his embrace.

  Matt brushed a finger through her hair and said, “I can’t believe I let myself fall asleep like that.”

  “You must have been tired.” She snuggled into him. “You worked hard.” His skin was so much cooler now. The bed, too, after such scorching hot activity.

  “Yeah.” His cheeks reddened, as if he were a little embarrassed about just how hard he’d worked. A little more bashful and self-conscious now that the fireworks of his lust had ended.

  Laurel took it all in, smiling at him again until he looked away. And she was, in a way, glad of his demeanor. “That was really fun,” she said. “I don’t usually allow myself that kind of . . . you know . . . indulgence.”

  “Sex?”

  “I mean . . . A one night stand, though? Hell, no.”

  “I guess I should feel pretty privileged, then.” He smiled at her, brushing his fingers along her bare arm. She shivered at the sensation, as she remembered the feeling of him thrusting into her. Skin on skin.

  Fuck.

  “Crap. I must have been drunker than I thought. We didn’t use anything, did we?”

  He smiled again, touched her again. “I’m good. I get tested regularly. All part of my jo
b.”

  What type of work did he do, exactly? Laurel quickly decided she didn’t care right then. “Me too, and I’m on birth control. Both necessary, after, well, you met the asshole last night.”

  He kissed her. “I don’t usually do this.”

  “You don’t meet some strange girl in a bar and then save her life in the same night?”

  “Yeah. Pretty boring life, huh?” He leaned forward and gave her forehead a sweet little peck. “And I’m actually, usually, pretty responsible. Old military habit.”

  Laurel arched her head back to get another look at his face.

  “But hey,” he said. “I guess I’m on vacation.”

  “Do you have to be anywhere soon?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Laurel wished she hadn’t asked.

  He leaned over to grab his phone off the nightstand. “No. And nothing till much later. You?”

  Then she regretted it even more, sinking her head back down into his chest with a groan. “It’s actually a huge day for me. I’m giving a presentation at work.”

  “Oh, no. I feel bad, then.”

  “No, no way. I needed this. It’ll help me.”

  “Help you?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “A confidence boost. I get kinda nervous with public speaking.”

  “What’s that old trick? Pretending everyone in the crowd is naked?”

  “I bet I’ll just be picturing you naked.”

  “Will that help?”

  “Hmm.” She thought for a moment, and then laughed. “No. No way.”

  “Awww. I want to help.”

  “You already did.” She ran her hand down his smooth body. “So much.”

  “Well, I’d like to help you again.”

  “Maybe you still can.” Her hand coursed down the length of his body, on his side, past his hips and onto his thigh. No clothing anywhere along the way as she wrapped her hand around his thick length. Matt’s head fell back again as he groaned.

  11

  Matthias

  He was running on about three hours of sleep, which, back in his deployment days, would have been no big deal. He’d trained himself to operate on as little as that a night for sometimes a week’s stretch at a time. Three hours now shouldn’t be too bad, especially if it was just one night out of the week. His new goal was to definitely not go under that again.

  But what if he met up with Laurel again?

  He’d left her downtown condo after fixing up some coffee and scrambled eggs, which he’d left warming for her upon her wakeup. One last little thank-you note for his unexpectedly exquisite first night in Atlanta. It was hardly enough of a thank-you. He made plans to revisit her for that, as soon as tonight or tomorrow. The sooner he’d see her again, the better. Whatever they had together seemed like a delicate little spark, a small smoldering ember that he wanted to keep warm. It was so new, so small and fragile, a flame that he wanted to make sure to not let go out. They made sure, last night, to stoke the ember with kindling, each of their romps in her bedsheets adding to something that could be totally amazing. He wasn’t sure what that would be, or if it would even be at all, but the possibilities were tantalizing.

  The possibilities ran through his mind as he stopped at his hotel room for a change of clothes. He’d already showered at Laurel’s, another step in their progress, gaining access to the woman’s domestic inner sanctum, her personal life displayed in the various skin-care products and cosmetics. He showered with her soap and dried off with one of her old towels hanging on the door, smelling her in the towel and on him. If he was going to clean her scent off him with the shower, he could at least apply a little more before leaving and taking on the day without her.

  Matthias took one last look at his still unused hotel room, the perfectly made bed, everything untouched, and then he headed out to face the day. It would begin with an early morning meet-up with Ernesto. Ernie was already a few hours in with a surveillance mission, scouting a small private airport just outside the city limits. He’d gone there immediately after leaving the bar, pulling an all-nighter in his car parked by an access road. Matthias presumed that, by now, his friend would be tired and grumpy. Especially if he heard about how Matthias had spent his night. It was a little more stimulating than sitting in a parked car for eight hours.

  They were meeting in the parking lot of a nearby coffee shop, Matthias taking his bike there despite the threat of darkening skies. He hadn’t planned on what would happen if it rained. Back in the city, if the weather was threatening rain, he’d just leave the bike at home and hop in his black Camaro. Here in Atlanta, “on vacation,” he was stuck with the bike and no roof to block whatever weather he had in store.

  Matthias checked the sky one last time before stepping into Ernesto’s undercover car—a white Chevy Impala.

  “I’m surprised you’re awake,” Matthias said, passing him a cup of coffee.

  “Same to you.” Ernesto took a sip of what was most likely, by now, his fourteenth coffee in a row.

  “You know me, I’m an early riser.”

  “Yeah,” said Ernesto. “But after last night?”

  Should he tell Ernie about not only his late night, the trouble they’d gotten into at the bar, and what it had led to? Maybe he’d get to it later, leaking out the info and testing the waters with a guilty laugh. “What about last night?”

  “Flirting with that blonde?”

  Blonde? Laurel was a brunette.

  Ernesto kept eying him. “When I left the bar, you were dancing with her. Swing dancing. And you were doing a pretty good job of it, too.”

  Matthias chuckled quietly. He hoped the conversation would shift away from his personal life and to work, their surveillance mission.

  “But you not remembering that . . .” Ernesto said. “It tells me just how late of a night it was for you. You don’t waste any time, huh?”

  “Well, you told me to enjoy myself. I remembered that.”

  “You certainly did.”

  “It wasn’t the blonde, though.”

  “Wow.” Ernesto shook his head. “So it gets better, huh?”

  “Much.”

  “Wait. Do I really even want to know?”

  “Probably not.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Matthias couldn’t hide his grin. Yes, it was that incredibly bad. So very, very bad.

  “Just be careful you don’t step into any honeypots.” Ernesto took a big bite of his sugar-glazed donut.

  “You too,” said Matthias, watching him chew the sugary snack.

  “Huh?” Ernesto said with his mouth full.

  “Nothing.”

  “I mean it, though. People might start noticing you, especially the more you hang around with me.”

  “You think you’ve got eyes on you?”

  “Hell, yeah. I can feel it.” He put the donut down on top of a napkin on the dashboard. “Of course, some of this could be the paranoia from the security breaches, from hackers tracking our cars. I always feel a little on edge these days, but you never know.”

  There was some truth to that. Matthias certainly didn’t know about Laurel, if she could in fact be some sort enemy operative. A honeypot, a sweet trap that he’d already stepped into. She mentioned working in computers and security. And she was drop-dead gorgeous.

  But where did Jason fit in the mix? If he was her handler, he sure committed to the role of ex-boyfriend, getting a busted-up face and a criminal charge for his efforts.

  No, she had to be legit.

  She had to.

  If not, Matthias was in a world of trouble.

  “Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” Ernesto said. “Forget it. I’m sure she’s a sweet girl. Not sweet like honey, either, but just . . .”

  The raindrops began to fall softly, almost imperceptibly, pattering on the car’s roof in long intervals before quickening and building up to a steady shower, which washed ripples of rainwater down the windshield. Matthias stared out of it at the murky, distorted neon s
ign of the coffee shop. It looked even darker outside now, and colder. A shiver ran down his spine.

  “Anyway,” said Ernesto. “Enough about that. Congratulations on getting laid and everything, but it’s time to get to work.”

  Good. Matthias was happy to finally start working. He was even excited. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt like that.

  “I’m just about done for the morning,” Ernesto said. “So it won’t take too long. But what we’re going to do is tail Jim Malloy. He’s the Commissioner of Resources and Economic Development. We’re going to tail him from a doctor’s appointment. Our intelligence tells us that he’ll end up, one way or another, at a meeting with the Southern Dragons.”

  “Sounds like you’ve already got your hooks in this guy.”

  “Not really,” Ernesto said. “We tapped his office phone, but it’s been pretty quiet. That’s why we’re chasing him around with these doctor’s appointments and small-time bullshit.”

  “Any idea why he’s meeting with members of a biker gang?”

  “We’re still working on that,” Ernesto said.

  “But you think he’s going . . .”

  “I’m just hoping.”

  “Hoping?” Matthias said. “That’s an odd choice of words.”

  “Well, yes, fine, of course I don’t want a prominent politician to be involved in any nefarious activity with a biker gang. So, right, I’m hoping he doesn’t go there, that he just drives straight back to his office, where he’ll continue serving the needs of the his constituency and those of the community at large.” Ernesto took a breath.

  “Okay,” said Matthias. “But that would make for a pretty boring day.”

  They were headed downtown, with larger and more extravagant apartment buildings appearing on either side of the street. The rain had picked up steadily and the sound of it on the car’s roof began to drown out the quiet background music of Ernesto’s radio.