Flashes of Me (14 page)

“You smell delicious.” Henley links his fingers behind his head, giving me complete access to his body, his gaze tracking my movements.

My face heats. “Now you smell delicious.” I coat his cock with my juices, reaching deeper and deeper inside me. “You smell like me.” My body aches for his.

“I like smelling like you,” he rumbles.

“I like that too. I need to feel you against me.” I straddle his thighs and push my pussy lips into his hot hard shaft. A shudder rolls over Henley, his cock vibrating against my clit, and I moan, sensation rippling from my core.

“You feel decadent and naughty.” I rub my pussy up and down his shaft, moistening his skin more, branding him with my scent.

“You feel even better.” Henley folds his fingers over my hips and assists me as I rise and fall against him, his strength supplementing mine. “Soft and wet and hot.”

“I’m hot for you.” I grab my breasts, cupping and squeezing my curves, twisting my nipples, the pinch of my flesh escalating my desire.

We grind against each other, my softness meeting his rigid form. Henley lifts me higher and higher. His tip skims over my clit, teases my entrance, and I quiver, needing more, needing his cock inside me.

“Take me, Henley,” I urge. “Make me yours.”

“You
are
mine.” He raises me above his cock. I reach down, wrap my fingers around his shaft, and position him at my entrance.

Henley pushes into me, his broad cock head stretching my pussy to the point of pain, and I swallow a whimper, not knowing if I can take him. He’s huge, the largest I’ve ever had inside me.

Henley stops my descent, pausing with his tip lodged inside my pussy. “You’re too small.” His arms shake. Perspiration dots his forehead. Lines etch around his mouth.

“We have to fit. I’m yours.” I wiggle, Henley’s hands slip, and his cock slides deeper. “Yes,” I gasp, clutching his arms. “That’s it. Give me all of you.”

“I’ll give you everything,” he murmurs, lowering me slowly, impaling me on his thick cock. “And you’ll take it. You’re strong.”

“Strong,” I repeat, digging my fingernails into his skin, relaying some of the sweet agony. Henley relentlessly invades my body, forcing me to take every delectable inch of him.

The descent is endless. He explores virgin flesh, areas of my pussy never touched by any other man, and I feel everything, the flare of his cock head, the pulsing of his veins, and, finally, the tickle of his private curls against my feminine folds.

“You took all of me.” He gazes up at me as though I’ve done the impossible.

“Yep.” I lift my chin, seated securely on my behemoth, filled with pride and his hard cock. “You’ve ruined me for all other men.”

“There won’t be any other men,” Henley growls, his tone thrillingly possessive, his grip on my hips tightening. “You belong to me, kitten.”

“I do belong to you.” I run my fingertips over his arms, smoothing the red crescents I’ve left on his skin. “Don’t you feel the connection between us?” I repeat the question I asked him when we first met.

“I felt our connection while compiling your employee file,” Henley confesses, his face flushing pink. “I couldn’t stop collecting information about you. I told myself it was because you were a potential security risk, a possible Volkov spy, but when I saw you in the coffee shop I knew the truth. I needed to know all about you because you’re mine.”

“I took one look at you and almost lifted my blazer.” I cup my breasts, pressing them together. “You were the most magnificent creature I had ever seen and I didn’t know how else to attract your attention.”

His eyes gleam. “You already had my attention.”

“I like that you watch me.” My pussy loosens around his cock, adjusting to his size. “I like that you look after me.” I swivel my hips, testing my readiness, and Henley groans, his body shaking under mine. I experience no pain, only a sumptuous fullness.

“I’ll look after you now.” I rise up, unable to move far, and fall back on him. My breasts bounce, and need unfurls inside me. I lift and drop, lift and drop, riding Henley’s cock, the action coaxing more moisture from my core, easing the sensual slide.

This gentle fucking isn’t enough for me. “I need your power, Henley, your strength.” I squeeze him with my inner muscles and he bucks upward. “Yes.” I hold my breasts. “Give me more.”

“I’ll give you as much as you need, kitten.” Henley pushes upward with his hips and drives me down on him with his hands, smacking my pussy lips against his base, my ass against his thighs. A delectable heat spreads over my body.

“More,” I cry.

“Yes.” He thrusts as he propels me up and down his shaft. The bed rocks, the headboard banging against the wall. My juices splatter over Henley’s skin, my natural musk mixing with his cologne.

“Fuck me harder,” I demand, greedy for more, knowing he can give this to me.

Henley flips me onto my back. I wrap my legs around his waist, cling to his shoulders, and hold on as he pistons wildly in and out of me. Our bodies slap together, his chest flattening my breasts, his hips colliding with mine.

I learn his rhythm and then move, raising my hips, meeting him halfway. He grunts in my left ear, the animalistic sound propelling my passion upward. My heart pounds, my pussy hums, and my nipples sting. A sheen of perspiration covers us, rivulets of moisture dripping between my breasts.

I flick Henley’s earlobe with my tongue, tasting salt and virile man, a man determined to please me, to claim me, our bodies, hearts, and souls meshing. As he labors over me I glide my hands along his back, exploring the ridges in his scarred skin, the dip along his spine. His muscles flex and move under my fingertips.

He’s strong and healthy and mine. I dig my heels into his clenched ass cheeks, seeking to push him past all control. He thrusts harder, owning my pussy.

I tremble, bands of emotion wrapping around me tighter and tighter and tighter. It won’t take much to break me and I don’t want to come alone. I rake my fingernails over Henley’s back, ripping a growl from his lips.

“My wild kitten.” He nips my neck, the pain pushing me toward the edge.

“Close,” I pant, my lungs aching and my pussy pulsing. Henley varies the angle of his thrusts, rubbing against my clit, and my eyes widen. “Henley?” I clutch his shoulders and grit my teeth, desperately hanging onto reality.

“Come for me,” he commands, his deep voice stripping the last of my control. “Come now.” Henley bites my bottom lip.

I scream and buck, clenching down on his shaft. He drives deeper, pinning my hips to the mattress, and he throws back his head, his roar temporarily deafening me. Hot cum spurts from his cock, filling my pussy, amplifying my orgasm.

I writhe, captured by his big form, as the room bursts with color and light, the beauty reflecting my bliss. Henley thrusts three more times and collapses, flattening me, his form comfortingly hot, heavy, healthy.

“Henley.” My voice is muffled by his skin.

“Sorry, kitten.” Henley takes me with him as he rolls onto his back, his arm wrapped around me, his cock softening inside my pussy. “Loving you short-circuits my brain.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll take better care of you in the future.”

“Then I’ll have to work harder to short-circuit your brain.” I smile at him. “I like it when you lose control. I feel desired.”

“You
are
desired.” He glides his hands over my back, and another soul-deep tremor rolls along my spine. “You’re a strong woman, strong enough to deal with any situation.”

With Henley beside me, I feel strong. I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Do you really think I’m strong enough?”

He hugs me, pressing me against his massive form. “I know you’re strong enough.”

W
E EAT BREAKFAST
in the room, shower, and dress, these everyday tasks becoming special because I complete them with Henley. For my first day as Blaine Technologies’ security liaison, I choose to wear my favorite coral-colored suit. The hip-length jacket has empire seaming under the bodice and a whimsical lace-up front closure. The skirt has a high waist and a pencil silhouette. I pair this with matching heels and my floral tote.

Henley wears the same suit as yesterday with a fresh dress shirt. He leaves his other shirt hanging in my closet and packs up his gear, making three trips to his car as I tidy the room and transfer the contents of my clutch purse to my tote.

My passcard isn’t in my purse. I check the belt I wore yesterday. It isn’t clipped to the white leather. I skim my hands over my yellow blazer and skirt. The passcard isn’t fastened to the fabric.

My shoulders tense. My passcard must have fallen off my belt while Henley and I were cavorting on the bed. I search through the rumpled sheets. The scent of sex and Henley’s cologne fills my nostrils. I don’t find the passcard.

I couldn’t have lost it. I lower myself to my hands and knees, the carpet rough against my bare skin, and look under the bed.

“That’s a nice view,” Henley drawls. I glance over my shoulder. He’s standing in the doorway. “Are you looking for something?”

I hesitate, knowing how seriously he takes the security at Blaine Technologies, dreading his reaction. “I’m looking for my passcard.” I can’t and won’t lie to him. As my father says, trust is based on truth, and I want Henley to trust me. “I must have dropped it.” I peer under one of the nightstands, spotting nothing but dust.

Henley says nothing, the silence worrying me. I turn my head. He’s tapping his fingers against his phone’s small screen.

“What are you doing?” I sit upright. “Can you track passcards?”

“No.” His face is hard, his expression intense. “I’m texting Grant, telling him to deactivate your passcard.”

“Is that necessary?” I stand, my face and knees burning. “The passcard is probably here somewhere.” Henley’s jaw juts out and he continues tapping on the screen. “I know.” I sigh. “We can’t take any chances, and you can ask him to activate the passcard again when we find it. Grant will think I’m an airhead, but everyone already thinks that anyway.” I shrug.

“I don’t think you’re an airhead.” Henley clips his phone to his belt. “But you were distracted yesterday.” His eyes gleam.

“I was very distracted,” I admit. My thoughts consisted of him. “We’ll search the room systematically from the window to the door. My passcard has to be here.”

We scour every inch of the small space, rummaging through drawers, moving furniture. My passcard isn’t in the hotel room.

“It probably fell off in your car.” I struggle to maintain my optimism.

“Come on.” Henley grips my hand and pulls me out of the room, down the hallway, his stride long. I hustle to match his speed, my movements constricted by my tight skirt.

Henley is upset with me, as he should be. He trusted me to keep my passcard safe and I failed him, putting the security of an entire building and all of the people working there at risk. Using my passcard, anyone can enter the unmanned back doors and gain access to some of the classified areas on the legal floor.

I suck in my breath. “Did you give me access to the Fortress?”

“Yes.” He rushes me through the hotel’s front lobby. Daytime John opens the door, says something. I don’t hear him. My missing passcard might have undermined all of Henley’s hard work and vigilance.

“It has to be in the car.” I run, passing him, my heels tapping on the pavement, my heart pounding. Perspiration trickles down my spine.

Henley unlocks his vehicle. He searches the trunk and I frantically search the interior, feeling under the seats, flipping through the documents in the glove compartment. The passcard isn’t in his car.

Henley fills the driver’s seat. “The passcard is gone. We’ll handle this matter at the office.”

I shut the passenger door, buckle my seat belt. “I could have left it there.” I cling to this slim hope.

Henley grunts, driving quickly, his profile severe and his expression grim. Tall palm trees and pastel-colored buildings blur as he weaves the car in and out of traffic.

“If the passcard isn’t at the office, if someone else has it—” The band around my chest tightens. “Wouldn’t they also need my thumbprint and numeric code to access the Fortress?”

“Numeric codes are easy for any professional to determine.” Henley’s tone is curt, his words clipped. “Your thumbprint hasn’t been loaded, but it’s only one barrier for a thief to overcome.” His lips flatten. “That’s not enough, not nearly enough.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Henley doesn’t say anything. I gaze at his face as he drives, memorizing the flatness of his nose, the shape of his chin, the thickness of his eyebrows. The silence in the vehicle is ominous, reminding me of past losses, reminding me of the eerie silence following my father’s last breath.

I can’t lose another man I love.

Chapter Twelve

H
ENLEY HOLDS MY
hand as we walk to the elevator, his grip tight. He doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look at me.

We enter the empty elevator. I stand beside him, vividly aware of his big body. He stares straight ahead, his face as hard as rock.

I squeeze his fingers, he squeezes mine, and hope flickers inside me.

“No matter what happens today, what you have to do,” I murmur, “I’ll understand. The days I’ve spent with you have been the best days of my life.”

Henley gazes down at me and frowns. “We’ll have more days . . . if you forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” I raise my eyebrows, confused. “This was my mistake. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I failed you, kitten.” His eyes blaze. “One of my employees stole from you and I allowed it to happen.”

“No, I allowed it to happen.” I won’t allow him to take responsibility for my error. “I should have been paying closer attention to my surroundings.”

“I monitor those surroundings.” Henley’s expression grows frighteningly fierce. “You had the passcard clipped to your belt. I remember that clearly. That person
touched
you.” He folds the fingers of his free hand into a giant fist. “You’re mine.
No one
touches you.”

His possessiveness curls my toes. “It must have been a casual touch because—”