Anew: Book Three: Entwined (23 page)

 “You smell so good,” he murmurs.
“Sweet and salty, pure Amelia.”

I gasp at his explicitness but the
sound turns quickly into a moan. His thumb circles over my clit at the same
time he finds that most sensitive spot inside me and strokes there repeatedly.

“Hush,” he murmurs and I do try.

But all the pent-up desire that has
been building in me--through dinner, during that magical time in the park, in
every moment with him, longing for him, loving him…all of it explodes in me. I
come suddenly with a cry that I can’t stifle. The best I can do is turn my head
into the bedcovers to muffle it.

My inner muscles are still
contracting when Ian rises above me, his expression a mix of raw desire and
amusement. “Do we need that gag?” he asks.

I shake my head vehemently. “No!”

His hand trails up my body, his
thumb and index finger closing on a nipple. He tugs hard and with a groan, I
feel the build-up of passion and need begin again.

“Are you sure?” he asks as he continues
his delicious torment.

“
Arrgh
, yes, no…Ian!”

He moves and I think he’s reaching
for something. My head tosses back and forth. “No gag, please…”

Ian pauses, gazing down at me. He
must see my agitation because at once he says, “
Shhh
, sweetheart, never
anything you don’t want.”

I relax but only momentarily. In
the next breath, he takes hold of my hips and easily flips me over so that I’m
face down, on my knees, my ass in the air.

“Perfect,” Ian murmurs. His hand
moves along the curve of my bottom and between my thighs, stroking, probing,
readying me, although truth be told, I’m more than ready for him. My hips
rotate reflexively. I can’t hold still.

 “Your pussy feels like hot wet
silk.” As he speaks, the long shaft of his cock presses between the cheeks of
my ass, rubbing up and down. Under his breath, he says, “I want you here again,
too.”

I shiver at the memory of the one
time we did that, at Carnival. That Ian is willing to acknowledge it and even
to admit that he wants a repeat is a huge step forward for both of us. I
briefly entertain the thought that he is finally putting his demons behind him
once and for all before the capacity for any thought at all deserts me.

The crest of his cock presses
against my opening, just barely entering me. In my hypersensitive state, I
can’t help myself. I press back toward him, yearning for more, needing it.

“Easy,” he whispers, his breath
warm on the nape of my neck. “We’ve got all night.”

I won’t survive that long, not
anywhere near. I try to tell him so but the covers muffle my words and I don’t
remain capable of speech for very long. Not when he thrusts suddenly deep and
hard into me, seating himself to the hilt with a single stroke.

The bolt of exquisite pleasure that
rockets through me makes me cry out but the covers absorb it. Freed of my
concern about making noise, I give myself up to the enthralling sensation of
both possessing and being possessed by him. His breathing is harsh as he holds
himself still, giving me time to adjust. I marvel at his control. It’s so much
greater than my own.

At last, he begins to move again
but slowly, each stroke long and drawn out. Pleasure builds in me but with it
comes frustration. I want the hard, fast pounding of his cock but he won’t give
that to me.

“Patience,” he murmurs. “Good
things come to those who wait.”

I turn my head to the side and
mutter, “I have waited, all day, all evening…” I sound petulant but I can’t
help it. My need for him is just too great.

He laughs but he’s not fooling me. The
husky timbre of his voice, the way his hands tightly grasp my hips, the stretch
and surge of his cock moving in me make it clear that he’s fighting for
control. The problem is that he’s winning. As much as he controls himself, he
controls me.

Deliberately, I tighten around him,
release, tighten again, my inner muscles stroking all along his length. I’m
deliberately trying to push him over the edge. The sharp crack of his hand
against the cheek of my ass stops me.

“Behave,” he says.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll just fuck your mouth and
leave you wanting.”

The threat sounds dire but his tone
is teasing. I don’t for a moment believe that he’d carry through. Even so, I
subside, letting him set the pace.

Moments later I’m rewarded as his
strokes become deeper, harder, faster. Pleasure builds in me, higher and
higher, until just when it teeters on the edge of becoming unbearable, I explode
in a white hot orgasm that overwhelms all my senses. In this shattered
universe, only Ian is real. His throbbing cock fills me with hot jets of come
as he groans above me, gasping my name.

“Amelia!”

When I’m next aware, he is slumped
over me, his chest pressed to my back and his arms holding me tenderly. His
weight bears me down into the mattress but I don’t mind. I feel as though I
could lie like this with him forever, replete in the fullness of our love.

When he finally moves onto his side,
I feel a stab of loss that vanishes as he gathers me close. We lie, spooning. Soothed
by the rise and fall of his breath, I slip into sleep.

And wake an unknown time later to
the exquisite sensation of a hot, wet tongue moving over my swollen clit. I’m
on my back, the covers pushed off the bed, warm night air caressing my heated
skin. Gazing down the length of my body, I see Ian’s head nestled between my
thighs.

A wicked sense of pleasure courses
through me. I groan softly, prompting him to lift his gaze. In the dim light,
his mouth glistens with my juices.

“Your taste is irresistible,” he
says. “I can’t get enough of you.”

I moan again as he slips his palms
under my bottom and lifts me to him. His mouth clamps hard as he sucks my clit
hard. I have to stuff my hand into my mouth to smother the cry that erupts from
me.

The tip of his tongue slips into my
opening, swirling round and round. My back arches as I feel the rush of another
orgasm building. I was asleep minutes ago and now--

“
Aaahhh, Ian!”

He lifts his head, his eyes
glittering. “Come for me, baby.”

And I do, my body willingly
enslaved to his desires. But I’m not alone. In the aftermath, Ian slips into me
with slow, aching tenderness. Stretched out above me, he murmurs, “I want to
cherish you.”

I want that, too. Joyfully, I draw
him deeper into my body. We move together, savoring each other. This time, the build
to orgasm is slow. By the time release finally comes, I’m nearly delirious with
pleasure. Ian rises above me, beautiful, powerful, and so beloved. I touch his
face in awe and wonder.

Through the intensity of his own
cresting passion, he smiles. His lips form a single word--
Mine
--in the
instant before he pours his life into me.

Ian

“Y
ou have to tell it what you want,” Hollis says. He
sounds amused.

As well he might given that I’m
staring dumbly at the order-bot, lost in thought. Amelia was fast asleep when I
left her in the soft gray light of pre-dawn.

The sight of her dark hair spread over
the pillows, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the slight flush
clinging to her cheeks, all of it lingers in my mind, at once a temptation and
a benediction.

Above all, the memory of seeing my
ring on her finger stirs me deeply. In my wildest dreams, I could never have asked
for more. Not even the climb back down the balcony could dent my mood.

I’ve managed to shower, shave, and
even put on a suit in anticipation of seeing Amelia later. I have it in mind to
take her out to dinner. But first I have to remember how to operate the damn
order-bot.

“Coffee, black,” I say.

The satisfying hiss and aroma of
freshly ground beans perks up my brain cells. I wouldn’t say they’re fried,
more off in their own little happy place.

“You’re here early,” Hollis
observes.

I take a sip, savor the jolt, and
nod. “Lots to do. How are things in the city?”

The streets were calm as I made my
way back to Pinnacle House from the McClellan mansion. But appearances can be
deceptive, especially in a place where so much happens beneath the surface.

 “Peaceful enough for the moment,”
he says. “A few hotheads are demanding that the workers not be allowed to
return to their jobs. But most residents just want to put the strike behind
them and get back to normal.”

I frown. “They’ve got to know that
isn’t going to happen. Not now that the workers have shown that they can
organize and go out on strike.”

“You and I know that,” Hollis
agrees. “But there are plenty of residents who are just plain delusional. The
effect of living in a bubble of privilege for so long, I guess.”

“You won’t get any argument from me
on that score.”

We walk together onto the floor of
the Operations Center. It’s relatively quiet, although the hum of activity
never really stops. Before I get too caught up, I take a few minutes to call my
mother and sister. We talked a few times when I was at the compound and I’m
sure they’ve heard the rumors about Davos’ demise.

They’re concerned about my role in
bringing that about. I reassure them without providing any details and move on
quickly. The news that Amelia has agreed to become my wife is greeted with exclamations
of delight.

However, I can’t help noticing that
neither of them expresses even a hint of surprise. On the contrary, I get the
clear impression that they both saw this coming or at least hoped for it.

“She’s such a lovely young woman,”
my mother says, “and it’s been obvious since the first time we saw you together
that there’s something truly special between you.”

“I’m finally going to have a
sister,” Marianne exclaims. “And I couldn’t ask for a better one than Amelia.
I’m so happy for you both!”

Not for the first time, I think how
lucky I am to have these women in my life. For all that my mother suffered
during her marriage to my father, she ultimately found the strength to leave him.
In doing so, she gave me at least a ray of hope that I could expunge him from
my own life.

As for my sister, despite living at
the center of a decadent society, she’s a fundamentally good, kind person. If
she really is interested in Edward, he’s going to have to damn well prove that
he deserves her.

Once in possession of my news, it
quickly becomes obvious that they have no time for idle chatter with me.
They’re already talking excitedly about all the plans that have to be make when
they get off the link.

Still grinning at their enthusiasm,
I start going over the latest intelligence reports on the men who were Davos’
chief allies. They’ve all gone to ground far from the city. I don’t doubt that
they’ll try to regroup but for the moment they’re focused on their own
survival.

I’m thinking about how to keep them
that way when Hodge pings me on the link. He so rarely contacts me at work that
I’m surprised. My first thought is that something has happened to Amelia but he
quickly assures me that is not the case.

“You have a visitor, sir. Mister
Jorge Cruces is requesting a few minutes of your time.”

Cruces? The head of the world’s largest
recreational drug company? The guy who ordered the execution of the two
scientists responsible for the creation of Jekyll/Hyde? This should be
interesting.

“Show him to my private office,” I
say, grapping the jacket that I took off earlier.

A few minutes later, I step into
the room on the first floor of the penthouse at the top of Pinnacle House.
Cruces is waiting for me. He has his back to the door, a position I
instinctively guess is unusual for him, and he’s staring out the
floor-to-ceiling windows at the city spread below.

As I enter, he turns. His slight
smile doesn’t conceal the intentness of his gaze as he studies me. “Nice view,”
he says.

I nod, cross the room and offer him
my hand. Cruces and I have met on occasion, mostly at the few social events
that I can’t avoid. But I haven’t had any reason to take his measure until now.

He’s tall, about my own height, and
the custom suit he’s wearing doesn’t disguise the fact that he’s in excellent
shape. About thirty, he’s got the dark, chiseled looks of a Spanish
conquistador heightened by a mezzo-American blood line.

He seems like an okay guy--smart,
tough, reliable. I don’t approve of his business but I can’t fault how he runs
it. After the disaster that the war on drugs proved to be, Cruces almost
single-handedly picked up the pieces. He established a safe, sane market in
which adults can get the mind-altering substances that human beings have craved
since we came down out of the trees.

Minors, on the other hand, are
barred and the penalties for selling to them are harsh. Illegal drug traders
end up with a long stay in one of the private prisons that Cruces runs. As for
those who go further and actually seek to create illegal drugs…

I think of the images I saw of the
scientists’ bodies hanging from lamp posts. If nothing else, Cruces knows when
to take the gloves off.

“What can I do for you?” I ask when
we’re both seated. I don’t imagine that he’s any more inclined to polite chit-chat
than I am and besides I’m curious as to why he’s here.

“To begin, I’d like to offer my
apology,” he says, cutting right to the chase. “It’s my responsibility to
prevent the manufacture of illegal drugs. Jekyll/Hyde got past me. I’m truly
sorry.”

I don’t question how he knows that
I was exposed to the drug. His intelligence sources are likely to be as good as
my own. Instead, I focus on his purpose for coming to see me in person. Apologizing
can’t be easy for one of the most powerful and feared men in the city. Hell, in
the world. But he’s doing it all the same. Apparently, Jorge Cruces is an
honorable man.

I nod in tacit acceptance and move
on. “I hear you’ve taken care of the problem.”

He shrugs modestly. “The lesser
part of it. You handled the rest.”

From the look that flits across his
face, I gather that while he has a professional appreciation for my actions, he
would have preferred to dispose of Davos himself.

“However,” he adds bluntly, “in
altering the balance of power, you may have opened a Pandora’s box. This
business with the workers--” He gestures with a long-fingered, powerful hand.

I’m reminded that he’s a top-ranked
mixed martial arts fighter. It’s his way of kicking back at the end of a long
day and letting off steam. That and the women he’s seen with. As I recall,
Cruces has good taste in that department.

“As understandable as their demands
are,” he adds, “they won’t be satisfied by the results of a one-day strike.
More will follow.”

“You think that’s bad?” Whatever
the original purpose for his visit, it occurs to me that I have an opportunity
to find out where he stands regarding the conflicts that are coming to a head
in our society. If we’re going to be on opposing sides, I’d just as soon know
now.

But he surprises me. Rather than defend
the status quo from which he profits so handsomely, he says, “All my analyses
indicate that the present situation is unsustainable. Too much wealth and power
have become concentrated in the hands of a self-anointed elite with an
increasingly dangerous agenda for the rest of humanity.”

His razor-eyed gaze meets mine. “The
question isn’t whether or not change will come. It’s a matter of how it will be
accomplished.”

I could be listening to myself, or
Edward for that matter. Which makes me wonder if the three of us shouldn’t sit
down at some point and get better acquainted. My own feelings about
recreational drugs notwithstanding, they’re used by all social classes. Cruces
must be wired into every level. He’ll have a unique perspective to offer.

“Change can come about peacefully.”
As I say this, I realize that I truly believe it despite all the evidence I’ve
seen to the contrary over the course of my adult life. Peaceful compromise may
not be the first choice of human nature; we’re still all too ready to live by
fang and claw. Yet we are capable of better, given the right conditions.

 “But not,” I add, “if we get
locked into a spiral of bloody crackdowns by those in authority fueling violent
insurrection by the dispossessed. I intend to assure that doesn’t happen. While
I can’t guarantee the results, at least there will be an opportunity to get to
something that’s better than what we have now.”

My guest looks surprised and
cautiously relieved. The thought goes through my mind that as much as I disapprove
of drugs, Cruces may not think too highly of my own line of work. Yet we both
seem able to put such considerations aside for the greater good.

Rising, he holds out his hand once
more. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. But perhaps we can talk again--”

I rise and we shake on it. “Definitely,”
I say. “There are several other people you no doubt already know but would also
find it useful to speak with about these matters.”

I’m thinking not only of Edward but
of Hayden as well. I’ve always liked my old school pal but he’s changed since
the accident that almost left him for dead a year ago, become more mature,
steadier, and stronger. I don’t know a better man to have at my back.

Cruces agrees and we part shortly
thereafter. I’m pondering our conversation as I head back down to the OC.
Before I get there, my link chimes again. This time it’s Amelia. She’s lying in
bed, her hair still tousled, looking sleepy and delicious. My cock lets me know
what he thinks of my decision not to stay right there with her.

“Good morning.” Her smile is a
little shy. Softly, blinking those big aquamarine eyes, she says, “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, baby. How are you
this morning?”

She stretches just enough that the
sheet starts to slip down over the curve of her breasts. “Good. Will you come
over later?”

A giggle escapes her. I love that
sound, knowing that she’s relaxed and happy.

“I may need rescuing from Adele and
all the wedding plans,” she adds.

I’m grinning like a loon and I
don’t give a shit. This amazing woman has transformed my world. The sooner I’m
with her again, the better.

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me
away,” I tell her.

But prying her loose from her
grand-mother may take some doing. Not to mention her
I’d-rather-be-living-in-the-19
^th
-century brother. I’m considering
exactly how to manage both as we continue talking.

She sounds excited and eager, which
in turn makes my day a whole lot brighter. She’s also got a dozen questions
that she somehow imagines I can answer--church or not, big or intimate, music,
flowers, menu, and so on. All I can gather is that a wedding, like a major
military campaign, involves heavy duty planning with equal emphasis on
strategy, tactics, and logistics.

To each and every question, I’ve
got just one answer. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

She takes the hint and laughs. “All
right, I’ll spare you the gory details. But don’t blame me if there aren’t any
elephants.”

“Hey, wait, I like elephants.”

Amelia’s giggling again and I’m
still grinning as I step into the OC. Hollis and Gab have their heads together.
When they see me, they both start in my direction.

Reluctantly, I say, “I’ve got to
go, babe.”

“I understand. Call me when you
can.”

I assure her that I will, click off
the link, and scan the faces of my two trusted colleagues and good friends.

Judging by the way they both look,
I’m not going to like whatever it is they’ve got to say.