Unearthed Treasure (7 page)

He couldn’t possibly wait another moment, courtesy be damned.

David climbed off the bed and stalked across the room. He entered the bathroom. Chelsea was rinsing her body. He watched the blurred outline of her sensual frame like a voyeur through the frosted glass of the shower. Moving to the door he saw her face lift as she caught sight of him.

“I’m just getting out now,” she said.

David opened the cubicle, the catch making a snick sound. The steam billowed out and warmed him. He cast his eyes lovingly down her slick, naked form. Covered in water, glistening, she was a highly erotic vision. For a second he was at a loss for words. Their gazes met and he felt trapped, ensnared. He never wanted to look away from those perfect eyes. “I think you need help soaping yourself,” he said, surprised by the thickness in his tone. Need clamoured at him, pushing every other thought out of his mind.

She grinned as she stepped back, inviting him to share the small cubicle with her. “I’m positive you need help getting clean too,” she purred.

He loved the way sinful sex rolled from her in waves. She tempted him on every level. For a second he imagined thrusting his hard, hot cock deeply into those lush lips, watching their pouting fullness close around his shaft and suck the ever-loving hell from him.

He nearly groaned at the vision. She seemed to read him easily—though his thoughts couldn’t have been too hidden considering his erect dick bounced against the flat plane of his belly.

Chelsea reached out to touch him first, her hand slender, warm and wet. With her other hand she grabbed a small bottle of shower gel, squirted some and spread it over his chest.

They were silent as they caressed each other, passing the bottle back and forth as they soaped one another. He loved the softness of her skin. She felt so delicate to him, so breakable. It was an odd feeling, for he knew Chelsea so well.

She was strong, fierce, like a womanly warrior from ancient times. Seeing her like this—vulnerable, naked, feminine—was almost as intimate as watching her face change as he’d thrust his cock into her willing body. They had shared parts of themselves he knew would bind them together forever, no matter how this turned out. That thought made him hot as hell.

“I want to do things to you,” he confessed in the sensual moment that blossomed as they washed each other. “I keep imagining what you’ll look like with me in your mouth. How bliss and need transformed your face when I penetrated you. I’m not sure I can ever get enough of you.”

She rinsed the soap from him, gliding her hands over his chest, his stomach and arms. David angled Chelsea so she stood beneath the spray and he could rinse her as well. When they were done she pressed her breasts into his chest, threading their legs intimately together. She lifted her face and kissed the edge of his jaw.

“I want that too,” she replied in a low tone. “Even though I’m satisfied, can feel the passionate exhaustion in my bones, I crave you. I want to do everything with you, play out all of our fantasies. I’m just as addicted as you, David.”

Satisfaction washed over him. They were definitely on the same page. He moved his hands down the curve of her back, water sluicing as he touched her. He cupped his palms around her arse, enjoying the soft, firm roundness of them. He drew her closer. Chelsea’s eyes widened and his masculine instinct quivered. He’d come close to touching a nerve, or perhaps one of those fantasies they’d discussed.

Slowly, carefully, respectful of the fact that he might be misreading her, David held each of the globes of her pert, round arse. Moving the cheeks apart just a little, he gazed steadily at her, waiting for Chelsea to move or deny him, to draw a line. She did neither. Indeed her pupils dilated with lust, the colour seeming to darken into an almost violet blue shade.

“Oh, darling,” he purred, lust now riding him hard. Stretching his index finger out, he slowly trailed the tip between her cheeks and made a slow line for the tiny, tightly puckered hole of her anus. When he stroked over her furled skin, she moaned, arched her body into his, simultaneously pressing her breasts into him and tilting her hips to press her arse back into his caress.

Breath escaped him. Need slammed into him.

Chelsea wriggled her arse, urging him on.

Panting with need now, he joined a second digit in with the first and he explored the tender flesh, seeking nerves that would increase the pleasure. He knew this part of her, the thin, delicate membrane, would be incredibly sensitised to his every caress. Chelsea threw her head back decadently and moaned, clearly conveying her pleasure at his touch.

“Is this one of those secret fantasies?” he asked.

Even to his own ears the tone sounded darkly dangerous. Hunger hammered at him, and the elemental, animalistic side to him wanted nothing as much as to bend her over right there in the shower, spread her cheeks wide and plunge into her, to claim her arse as he had claimed her pussy—to own her body and soul as she did him. Chelsea might not know or understand it yet, but she held his heart, his lust and his spirit, everything he was. The desire for that to be reciprocated was a fire burning within him.

She sensually wrapped a wet, slender arm around his neck. Chelsea looked into his eyes, her gaze as stormy, deep and unfathomable as the sea.

“I’ve fantasised about anal play, anal possession, yes,” she confessed. “But…but well…it’s never come together for me. The right man, the right time… It never all lined up.”

Deep in his soul a beast howled, denied. David moved his fingers, though remained caressing her arse. It took him a moment to struggle with himself, but he held onto his control, his restraint, and eased himself mentally back from that dark, intoxicating desire. They had forever, he reminded himself. There was no need to try everything in their first true day together.

“I understand,” he replied, strain in his tone.

Chelsea shook her head.

“I’m not being clear,” she said. “I was trying to be delicate, but I should have known better—I’m not like that, I’m more forward and blunt usually. David, I’d love to explore anal sex with you, but I’ve never done it before so…so we can’t just jump in. I’ll need…preparation. I want to do this with you, but you’ll be my first.”

Not for the first time around this beautiful woman, words failed him. A darkness he didn’t often acknowledge inside himself blossomed, grinned feral and smug inside the depths of his chest. Unable to explain what her trust and faith meant to him, David instead lifted a hand to tilt her chin.

Lowering his head, he then slowly pressed their lips together and kissed her with all the passion, love, need and gratefulness that swirled around in him. She returned his kiss just as hard and hungry. Love and excitement burst between them. Chelsea met him press for press, her passion as ardent as his. She parried her tongue with his, her need clearly equal to own yearning. She was his equal, his partner, his soul mate in every respect.

Slowly they pulled apart. David felt drunk on their passion, on the excitement of knowing what was to come. He was her first. She was giving herself to him, a part she had never shared with anyone else. The barbarian he kept locked away wanted to pound his chest and crow with delight.

He stared at her, drinking in and memorising the sight of her. Every detail of her face, her smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she grinned at him in that naughty manner, he burned it all on his brain, etched it into his deepest soul.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

Chelsea reached out and turned off the taps. David opened the cubicle door, stepped out and got them both towels. He dried himself in record time. Wanting to give Chelsea a moment alone in case she needed it, he pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, her body warm and literally steaming in the cool air.

“We’ll take our time,” he promised her after lifting his head away. “There’s no rush, we have forever.”

“I know,” she replied with that naughty grin. “I’ll just be a minute.”

David lifted his hand to lightly caress her face. He loved her with everything inside him, adored her more than mere words could ever convey. Hanging up the towel he cast a final glance at her before leaving the bathroom.

Chelsea had learnt at a young age to never show fear. In her book, the moment you let people know you were afraid it was all over. It was part of the reason she always showed such bravado, regardless of the situation or her true feelings.

She didn’t fear David, not for one instant.

The man could be dangerous, deadly even. He could be merciless and devious. Those were aspects of him she admired and could even be grateful for. It was also much of what those who glimpsed only at his surface saw. The Agent. The patriot, deeply loyal and unwavering in his dedication to getting an often hard, dirty, thankless job done properly.

Beneath that, however, was the complicated, intricate, endlessly fascinating man she had come to know, respect and love beyond all reason. He was kind, compassionate and acted with a ceaseless, genuinely chivalrous manner.

She knew without a doubt he craved to fuck her up the arse, to pound into her and possess her every most intimate secret. The thickness of his cock in the shower moments earlier as he’d stroked her private passage had been proof positive of that. But the second—the very moment—he’d thought she was not amenable to the suggestion he had backed off. Not tried to wheedle or convince her, talk her into it or explain how wonderful it could be. He’d stepped back and had respected her—her decisions and beliefs
—
without question.

Had she not been in love with him already, adored him more than the stars and sun and moon, she would have fallen a little for him in that moment.

Dry, Chelsea hung up her towel and stole a glance at her reflection in the mirror.

Just minutes ago she’d pleaded with him to have sex with her—unprotected. Part of her felt there could be no greater trust, no more intimate sharing between two people. Now she wasn’t so sure. Chelsea half expected to see something different about her face, but there was nothing. No literal bonds tied them together, no stamp on her forehead or neck stating ‘Property of David Greer’.

She could feel them becoming more entwined, the need and power between them growing and hardening. Soon it would be impossible to contemplate anything without him by her side. She huffed out a tiny laugh. Who the hell was she kidding? Right now she couldn’t imagine life without him. She wanted him by her side, needed him in her life.

Who the hell was she and what had she done with Chelsea Atchison?

Grinning at her reflection, the moment she had asked the question she knew the answer. Chelsea Atchison was a hard-core, never-say-die, stubborn-arsed secret agent. She wasn’t afraid of anything, not even of being tied body and soul to a man who could destroy her with ease, should he choose to do so.

She blew a kiss to her reflection.

Trust like this, soul deep and terrible in its intensity, ran both ways. She’d no more turn her back on David, or harm him, than she’d shave her head bald and sever a limb. Deep in her heart, she knew he felt the same about her.

Turning on her heel, she then headed into the bedroom. David had pulled the covers back on her bed, a tube of lubricant he’d evidently found in the top drawer of her bedside table on the mattress next to him. Unsure what to say—was there even a protocol for this?—she was relieved when he simply and silently held his hand out to her.

Relief washed through her and she crossed to the bed with an eagerness she hadn’t felt since her first few sexual encounters. She climbed up next to him, wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed his lips hungrily. It didn’t seem to matter how often they did this, their kisses never got old, never lost the intensity of that first one. Desire burned through her, the dark desire to give up all control, to lose herself in his heated embrace and forget the rest of the world even existed. Who cared about smuggling rings, terrorists or threats to national security when David cradled her in his arms, when his kiss could set fire to her every nerve and when with one hot glance from him she wanted to shed her knickers, spread her legs and feel his cock penetrate her every orifice.

Her every orifice.

Chelsea could kiss David until the world ended, the sun imploded and all the angels and demons of the universe came trumpeting in. Even then, she could imagine herself begging for one more kiss, one more caress, just a little more and then she’d deal with it all. Her body flushed, every inch of her aware of this man who held her soul. Juices dripped down her thigh, her passion heightened by the knowledge of what they were going to share.

David nudged her onto her knees.

“Play with your nipples,” he commanded.

Groaning, not one to usually follow any order, Chelsea found herself eagerly complying. She knew the exact pressure that would send her to the stars, the right twists and manner that she loved. Turning her head as she stimulated herself, she saw David behind her, studying her intently. She knew him well enough by now to know that he drank in everything, and would file this knowledge away for intimate use later.

That thought made her hotter.

“It’s going to burn,” he whispered darkly to her. Chelsea heard the cap of the lube pop open and felt her heart hammer at the knowledge of what was coming. He touched the round globes of her arse with cool, moist fingers. He spread her cheeks apart with his gentle hands and pressed his slick digits against her anal passage.

“You’ve been trained to shut pain out—I know this for I’ve been through the same. But don’t compartmentalise it, trust me on this. I don’t know how to express it better, but embrace it, lean into it. When you first started endurance training, once you mentally talked through that first burn of pain, where you wanted to give up and stop—well, you know how it is. If you keep going, the pain goes away, and the adrenaline kicks in, the pleasure starts. This is the same.”

As he spoke he traced his finger teasingly around the tiny entrance. She felt the breach of just the tiniest tip. He slicked more lube inside her, easing his passage. Then he was gone, more gel squirted and he was back.