Passionate Immunity (6 page)

Lightly she traced her fingers over his chest, the hard muscles of his pecs smooth and warm to her touch. His small, nut-brown nipples were hard nubs, his skin slightly tanned. Curious and eager to explore, Kimberly leant forwards so she could move her lips along the smooth expanse of his skin.

She grazed her mouth over him, flicking her tongue out to taste him.

“Mmm,” she murmured. She moved, licked him again, rasped over his nipple. Delighted when this action elicited a low groan from him, she chuckled. Emboldened, she repeated the gesture, a startled gasp of laughter falling from her lips as he lifted her up, turned her around and pressed her into the hard, cold brick of the nearest stretch of wall.

“Tristan!” she called out. Exasperation laced her shout. She felt a small measure of indignation at being manhandled as easily as a toy, but was unable to deny the fierce surge of lust the enticing move had caused within her.

She lifted her hands instinctively to push herself away, but the solid heat of Tristan’s body pressed into her back. Kimber felt breathless again as he ground his thick, hard erection into the curve of her arse. Ensnared by him, she shifted back, shimmying against him as they danced erotically together.

Tristan wrapped an arm around her. He tugged her pencil-slim skirt up with his other hand, letting it bunch at her waist. Turning her head to glance at him, she found Tristan staring down her body with hot, ravenous dark eyes.

“An aqua lace thong?” he choked out. He he raised his eyebrows, lust hot in his gaze.

She grinned.

“And a matching demi-cup bra,” she purred, thrilled to witness such an intense reaction.

He moved the arm from her waist, his hand twisting at the wrist so he could pull the hem of her knitted sleeveless vest. In two quick motions Kimber shed both the vest and her shirt. Turning to face him, she stood in the large room, feeling safe in the warm circle of his embrace. She took a deep breath, swelling her small breasts so they filled the lacy matching bra. The demi-cup lifted her, showcasing her cleavage and setting her off to advantage.

Tristan ran the pads of his fingers over the curve of one mound, touching her as if she were a mirage and would disappear the moment he held her fully. The surreal nature of the moment crashed over Kimber. Never in her wildest flights of fancy could she have even imagined something like this happening to her. She reached out to cup Tristan’s jaw and kiss him once again, half certain the action would shatter the illusion and she’d wake up, cold and alone in her bed.

There was no jerk of waking up. No cruel alarm clock or laboratory timer to buzz and interrupt her fantasy. This was the real deal.

Heat met her touch, her tongue tangled with his, the wet strength giving back as good as she was giving. Her heart pounded in her chest and the realisation that she was about to have steamy, raunchy sex with a man she’d met mere hours ago finally sank in.

Holy fuck, she was really about to do this.

Still kissing him fiercely, Kimberly reached for the waist of Tristan’s pants. Fumbling only for a moment with the unfamiliar clasp, she wrestled to free the heated shaft she felt pressing against her body.

Tristan broke away from their kiss with a muted curse, helping her push both his pants and boxers down his thighs. Swearing in earnest he dipped one arm down into the pocket of his pants, withdrew his wallet and dug a condom out of it. With his other hand he gently nudged her around again. Willingly she turned, heard the crinkle of foil and shivered as warm fingers probed beneath her thong once again.

Together they removed the tiny scrap of lace, Kimber wobbling as she balanced on one leg then the other to step out of the knickers, and finally, she widened her stance as Tristan urged her legs apart and settled his thick head against her pussy entrance.

“Are you certain?” he whispered raggedly against her ear.

Kimber lifted her hands up, pressed them against the wall for balance. With her legs spread wide for balance she moaned at the delicious feel of Tristan’s cock seated right there where she could feel its heat soak into her pussy lips. Her juices flowed and blood thrummed in her ear, her head pounding for him to just do it, for fuck’s sake. She could hardly believe this sweet man held himself together by an inch to reassure himself she was willing.

“Tristan Walters,” she panted, “if you don’t fuck me right now, hard and up against this wall, I will find a gun on one of these shelves and shoot you myself.”

Heat penetrated her, a tight stretching as he took her at her word and sheathed his thick cock deeply into her cunt. Kimber arched her back, her breasts pressing against the cool bricks as she canted her hips back to take even more of him.

“Oh yes!” she hissed, not having the breath to cry out or say more.

She whimpered as Tristan withdrew, the aching loss of him unbelievable after the warmth and fullness of his penetration. She cried out in bliss as he rammed back into her once again.

In and out, over and over he sawed into her. Each time her walls clenched tightly, clamping down over him, greedily sucking him deeper and deeper.

“More,” she moaned, lost in the thick fog of her passion.

Tristan lowered his head to the curve of her shoulder and bit gently down into the tender spot right there. The painful sensation drove her pleasure higher, spiking their lovemaking like a shot of liquor into her drink.

Pressing her arse back, Kimber panted. Tristan moved harder and faster. She felt her walls stretching, struggling to encompass his full width as he pounded into her body. Arching up, the stunning blend of hunger and pain heightened her senses. Adrenaline coursed through her and the knot of sensual need curled deep in her stomach grew.

Reaching an arm around, Kimber grabbed her lover’s thigh, her blunt nails digging slightly into the tight flesh of his cheeks. Tristan grunted, nipped another biting kiss to the slender column of her neck and pumped inside her clenching channel again. Panting, she struggled to find a coherent word to urge him on. Her mind muddled, language escaped her. Besides, she couldn’t catch her breath even had she known what to say.

“Oh!” she moaned as Tristan lowered a hand to stroke tenderly at her clit. Her body shuddered, tightened and for a perilous moment she tottered on the very edge of climax.

“Come for me, baby,” he crooned to her, sensuality dripping from his every syllable. Her hand twitched, tightened around his buttock and her nails bit a little into the tender flesh.

With a scream, Kimber flew apart, her world shattering. Her pussy clenched tight around Tristan’s thick cock. Milking him, she shuddered over and over. Before her contractions had finished his hips jerked, short spasms rocking through him. He pumped into her, emptying himself into the thin latex.

Lungs bellowing, the harsh sounds of strangled breath filled the room as they both came down from the monumental climax. Kimber turned her head, leaning slightly to the side so she could gaze upon her lover.

Tiny beads of sweat dotted his brow, his head hung down, his fringe almost falling into his eyes. Kimber lifted a hand, running her fingers through the soft strands, enjoying the contrast between their darkness and the light of her digits. At her touch Tristan lifted his eyes to meet hers. She smiled warmly, desire, lust and a tenderness she hadn’t expected filling her chest while they silently watched each other.

“Am I a real spy now?” she asked.

As she had hoped, the potentially awkward moment passed and Tristan chuckled. Twisting one of her curls around his index finger, he tugged the strand to his lips, kissing it before letting it spring free from its bondage.

“I’m not sure that qualifies,” he replied. “But I’m certain if you have your way before the evening is through you will be a bona fide spy. Breaking and entering a facility isn’t the usual method of initiation, but that seems to be the path you’re determined to follow.”

Kimber cupped his jaw and drew Tristan near to press their lips together one final time in benediction. Heat flared between them and his cock twitched with interest within her body.

Groaning in dismay, he pulled his shaft out of her.

“We were lucky no one came last time,” he insisted. “Neither of our reputations would survive someone walking in on us here.”

Part of her—the wild, wicked section she’d never noticed before let alone indulged in—wanted to insist they live in the moment and give in to their passions. The logical part of her brain, however, urged sense and caution. Bending down to collect her shirt and vest, Kimber went about setting herself to rights once more.

Tristan pulled his clothes back into order and moved to his locker. Pulling a handful of tissues from a travel pack he cleaned himself and disposed of the used condom. Giving them both a moment to compose themselves, Kimber pulled herself together, then turned to him with a radiant smile.

“So, what do we pack into a spy’s kit?”

* * * *

Kimber sat on a bench near the lockers and watched as Tristan placed item after item in a medium-sized duffel bag. Already she had needed to ask what a number of the items were, finding herself surprised at his responses. A small zippered case which had reminded her of a lady’s manicure set had turned out to be a very professional-looking set of lock picks.

Tristan collected what appeared to be a thick fountain pen and popped it into his pocket.

“Oh, I have a collection of pens in my handbag back upstairs,” she replied.

Tristan paused in the act of coiling up a long length of rope to gaze at her. Her breath caught as her body reacted to the handsome sight he made.

“Oh love, you’re such a sweet, innocent little thing,” he commented, half laughing, half serious.

She scowled, but couldn’t think of a comeback quickly enough.

Twisting the rope deftly he knotted the length into an easily-removable knot and packed it into the duffel.

Tristan removed the pen and held it out to her. After a pause, realising he meant for her to take it, she picked it from his fingers and turned it over. She studied it for a few seconds before giving up and looking back to him. She shrugged, perplexed. “Okay. Impress me, lover. What is it? There’s no chamber or room for a bullet, so it isn’t a gun. A taser, maybe? Oh! No, I know. It’s a camera, right? The new must-have toy for perverted youths to up-skirt unsuspecting women on the train at night.”

Tristan chuckled and shook his head, a brief, sharp motion. “An excellent idea, darling,” he replied, seeming to enjoy himself. “But no. It’s a scanner.”

Kimber turned the pen over a few times in her hand, staring hard at it. She gaped, wondered how such a slender, relatively small object could hide such technology then held it out for him to take back.

“You’re kidding me. Really?”

She watched, enthralled, as he pressed the end and aimed the nib onto her hand. A thin laser dot appeared.

“Point, click and hey presto, it scans and holds images, photos, paintings and anything written. Holds up to eight gigabytes of data before you need to exchange the cartridge with a new memory card.”

“Wow,” she breathed.

“I’ll add a small digital camera into our bag, too,” he reassured her, “but this pen is not only discreet, but should be faster and safer than having to line up endless papers and put them in the right light to photograph. The laser can pick up writing in only forty per cent light and adjusts itself accordingly. Any photos we find will need at least sixty per cent light to come out clearly, but I’m hoping most of the data we want to copy and recover will be reports on whatever the hell Henley had going in this operation.”

“What will happen to her if I uncover something really bad?” Kimber asked, apprehensive for the first time. She’d been so focused on helping Preston and playing at being a spy she hadn’t really thought through the full ramifications of the work she was undertaking. Tristan shook his head angrily, brushing off her concern.

“Emma Henley is a traitor and a murderer,” he said curtly, his gaze cast down at the pen in his hands. “She abused the privilege of this office, used the tools and personnel under her protection and involved herself with terrorists. She is directly responsible for two deaths, one of them being my old partner. He had a family, a sister who still calls me periodically to tearfully recount stories to help work through her grief.”

Kimber fell silent, almost not breathing. The pain Tristan so clearly felt had been put aside, but was not even close to being forgotten or settled.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke softly.

He took a deep breath and tilted his head in acknowledgement, then shook himself as if to physically cast off the sombre moment.

“Henley is already neck-deep in shit. She’ll never see the light of day again. In a sense she is secondary to all this. It’s merely this is her project, the audit of her work that has drawn us to this place. She has enough sins cast at her door to atone for. What we want to know is whether there is something for us to clean up here, or whether we’re jumping at shadows and being paranoid.”

Kimber nodded. She certainly didn’t feel better for having had this explained to her, but at least she knew now she would not be responsible for casting a slur upon an innocent party.

“Do we have time for me to pop home and change?” she asked hopefully. She craved a brief shower to clean up and didn’t relish the thought of doing her first round of breaking and entering in a business shirt, pencil-slim skirt and low heels. With a wry grin she thought fondly of decking herself out in head-to-toe black—much like every thief she’d ever seen in the movies.

“Much as I hate to think of a black beanie covering those beautiful blonde curls, darling, yes, I think we will both need a fresh outfit,” Tristan acknowledged. “Let’s wrap up here, go back up and talk to Lucas before we collect your bag and then we can swing by both our places really quickly.”

“Won’t Lucas need to change too?” she asked, curious.

Tristan grinned at her in reply. He looked sensually wicked, like a boy with a naughty plan in mind.