Page 106 of Agency
But, then… her fucking and manipulating the guys like she had, and the fight we’d had this morning.
She’d been right, though, hadn’t she? About my not sharing my real name. Did fear keep that away from people? Or was my first name the only real artifact from my life before the military?
Inside the kitchen, they’d turned off the water a little while before. Probably nearly finished with cleanup. Now, I realized I was still a little hungry despite the massive feast we’d all prepared and almost completely devoured, and I began wondering whether there was any leftover steak I could eat some cold slices from. Maybe even some cheese to go along, and some bread.
“Damn,” I said aloud to the empty room. “Read a Roman book of Stoic philosophy for even an hour, and I started eating like an ancient soldier on the march.” I went to grab my beer again.. As I did, Andrew eased the kitchen door open and slipped into the living room. Morgan was hot on his heels, and they both mutter-whispered something to each other as they came in.
“We fine on watches?” Andrew asked, coming over and planting both hands beside me on the couch’s backrest. “If so, Morgan and I are hitting the sack. Long day.”
“Should be fine,” I said, glancing to Morgan. “Still no movement on the tracker, right?”
“Nah,” Morgan replied with a shake of his head. “No coordinated urgency, or anything like that.”
“Then good night, I guess.” I turned my attention back to my book, but called to them before they could begin climbing the stairs. “Hit the overhead for me? I’m sleeping down here.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Andrew called, and the lights switched off a moment later, leaving me with nothing but the fire’s orange glow.
“Thanks.”
A comfortable silence settled over the living room as the sound of their boots receded up the stairs. They japed back and forth about something or other, and everything seemed good-natured and relaxed as they began to get ready for bed. I allowed myself to sink back into the rhythm of the words before me, so much so that I didn’t even look up this time when the kitchen door opened again, then shut.
Going to take another sip of beer, I glanced over as I felt Ambyr’s quiet presence in the room. I nearly dropped my drink as soon as I saw her.
The firelight’s orange and red hues dappled her pale skin, and the deepening shadows embraced her like a lover. She seemed to be some goddess born of heat and combustion, and her blue eyes glinted in the dim light.
But, for all her beauty and mystique in that moment, there was something about her.
Something about her, even as she stood with hands behind her and shoulders thrust back, so her breasts rose and fell with every breath she drew.
She looked shy. She looked… uncertain.
I found myself swallowing hard as I looked to her, my eyes crawling over her like trickles of warm, sweet honey. My blood began to flow like a torrent, practically thrumming and roaring in my ears as my mind drifted, and my eyes continued their long, slow, methodical stalking of her body. But more than blood flowed. Memories of the other night, too, came rushing back.
Of the back of the Tahoe, and then her hotel room. Of how she’d tasted–sweeter than victory clutched from the jaws of defeat. Of how she’d smelled–like musky amber, and deep, pungent spice. Of how she’d felt–like God had let slip between the pearly gates heaven’s most carnal of angels.
My eyes were back to hers, then. And I could see the look there, as we held each other’s gazes.
Something else. Something deeper that simple surface level emotions like lust and being horny.
Desire. Longing.Need.
And I could feel the same thing. Not just for physical touch, though that was part. A need for something deeper. Connection, intimacy… trust.
At that last part, though, I could feel ice water enter my veins and try to stymie the blood’s flowing rush. Not that ice water could. Not with a creature like her now stalking towards me on bare feet, and with seductively swaying hips.
I took a long pull off my half-empty beer, draining the rest down, as if my the drink were some magic potion in a faerie tale that would give me fortitude against her wiles. But, who was I even trying to kid? Potions only existed in those kinds of stories, and beer certainly didn’t fortify a man against any woman’s advances.
And certainly not when they had all of Ambyr’s grace, charm, and raw sex appeal. No, she might as well have been a loaded gun, and her barrel was pointed straight at me.
“Jericho,” she whispered as she drew closer, her voice barely louder than the crackle of flames, but just as warm. “I know I tracked what might have initially passed for trust between us. But, you know that really was my last job, and that it wasn’t one I would have taken if I’d known the details. At least, I hope you know that by now.” She came closer and closer as she spoke, and, as she stepped in front of the fire and turned towards me, the handcuffs binding her became visible at the small of her back.
I tensed my thighs, trying to steal blood from my cock even as I surged with new found excitement. God, I could take her, fuck her, use her, do whatever I wanted with her. My eyes traveled down her body again of their own free will, as if they needed to remind the rest of me what my feelings were forcing my baser instincts to give up. My gaze settled for a long, intense moment on the dully shining handcuff key hanging between her breasts, and my heart and cock seemed to beat out their twin desires in tandem Morse code.
Wasn’t that what she wanted? For me to fuck her, to use her, to…
My eyes finished their long, desperate crawl down her lithe form before settling back on her twin, shining, blue orbs, and I swore she could see the battle raging inside me. No, not only see the battle–she could smell it, taste it, hear the fire raging, touch the heat burning within.
Tensing and flexing my legs had helped for only a split-second, I realized as my eyes remained on hers. Because, there was that feeling again. My cock, surging right back to attention.
