Operation: Thrustmaster (Rock Hardin: Agent of A.S.S. Book 1) (6 page)

     
He didn’t have to be told twice. Rock immediately put himself behind and rubbed his cock along M’s wetness, lubricating himself before shoving into her tightness. He groaned in pleasure as she enveloped him, and he began to ride her hard, knowing that he had until S came to live. The pleasure reverberated throughout his entire body, and he moaned and gasped, fucking M for all he was worth. He pistoned his hips back and forth as both of the women moaned in pleasure, their voices mixing in the most delightful way, urging him forward, harder and harder.
 

     
M had trouble keeping in line with her Mistress’ pussy, which was part of his plan. The more he jostled her about, the harder time she had of licking her Mistress. M wrapped her arms around her Mistress’ thighs, trying to keep herself steady as she groaned into the pussy she was devouring. Rock kept thrusting, wanting to come so fucking badly. Her tightness squeezed him, drawing him into her depths, and he rocked back and forth, plunging in and out of her with abandon.
 

     
S began to writhe under M’s attention, her eyes closed in ecstasy even as she still held the gun. When she began to groan, her breath coming more and more ragged, Rock picked up his pace, wanting, needing, desperately to shoot his load into M, trying to time it for a bit before S came. The orgasm came upon him, hard, violent, explosive. He ground his teeth and tried not to let it show he came, but it was so hard to keep pumping his cock in and out of that sweet, tight pussy as if he were still fucking and not coming. He longed to just bury himself in her; each motion wrung him out, making him quiver and tremble.
 

     
As he came down from his climax, his cock sore and aching from the overuse, too sensitive now from the orgasm, he saw S’s flesh tremble, and she screamed as she came. Her free hand worked her breasts, pinching her own nipples through the leather suit as M relentlessly kept licking her pussy, getting every drop, every bit of pleasure out of her Mistress as she could. Rock withdrew quickly from M and, even though it still felt wrong to him, he socked S as hard as he could, knocking her out as she came.
 

     
M jerked up, and he fell back, taking her in a sleeper hold. As she fell unconscious, he eased Slave M gently to the ground, and brushed a kiss over her temple. “Thank you,” he whispered, then wasted no more time in getting dressed, and dashing out to resume his mission. He remembered his knife, but only barely. Rock thought he was lucky to remember to put his boots on, hopping from one foot to another in his haste to catch up with LeMarchand and Cynthia.
 

     
The next room was clear of people, and he moved through the lavishly decorated place quickly, looking for the way out. As he ran past another window, movement caught his eye… a car, heading down the road towards the plains. He’d have to be quick to catch them. Hardin raced ahead, trying to find the way out...or better yet, the way to the garage.
 

     
Most structures had a sort of uniformity to them which helped him find the front door. He burst outside, and looked back at the house in which he’d been held. To the far side, a garage stood, and Rock closed the distance. When he reached for the side door to the carport, the door opened before he could touch it, and Petite stood there. Her mouth dropped open, and she stood there for a moment, as if trying to process what she was seeing.
 

     “
Surprised to see me, sweetheart?” he asked, then rushed her, slamming her against the door, and scanning the garage. Seeing no one else, he focused his attention on her. She slammed her knee up into his groin, and he released her, taking a step back as pain surged through him. Petite dodged into the garage as he groped after her. She reached for her purse and before he could stop her, pulled a gun.
 

     “
Very,” she said, her voice and her hands trembling. Rock tried to straighten up, to stand taller so as to intimidate her, but the pain radiating throughout his groin made it a difficult task indeed. “Don’t!”
 

     
Rock raised both of his hands. “I’m not,” he said, making his voice smooth and even. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to save her.”
 

     “
It’s too late,” she said. “They’re going to be on the plane to--” Realizing what she was saying, Petite cut the words off. “You’re too late.”
 

     “
It’s never too late,” he said soothingly. With great care, he took a step forward, sliding his foot so as not to spook her. “I know you’re confused… you don’t want to do this.” Petite shook the gun at him, and he stopped where he was. “You’re not a killer.”
 

     
Petite never took her eyes off of him. “You don’t know me,” she said, a pleading tone in her voice. “Don’t make me do this.”
 

     “
You’re not a killer,” he said again, reaffirming what he surmised about her. “You’re just in over your head. I can help you. I can get you out.”
 

     
She shook her head, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. “You can’t. You don’t know them.”
 

     Rock eased forward another step, and began ever so slowly to reach for the gun. “I know
you
,” he said, voice soft, almost whispering the words. “You could have killed me a dozen times over… but you didn’t. You chose to delay me instead. Just give me the gun, Petite. I promise everything will be alright.”
 

     “
I…” she said, but her hand began to lower, and he grabbed the gun. She covered her eyes with her hands, and looked up to him, “They have my sis--”
 

     
A gunshot rang out, and she fell forward. Without a second’s hesitation, Rock shot with Petite’s gun, shooting a thug who had come into the garage and seen the scene between them. The thug fell backwards against the wall as Rock caught Petite and lowered her to the ground. When the thug didn’t move, and no others came through the door, he turned to the woman in his arms. “Petite,” he said, voice urgent.
 

     
Her eyes fluttered open. A tiny hand reached up to stroke his face, “My family…”
 

     “
You’ll see them again,” he promised. “I’ll get you to a hospital. Just hold on!”
 

     “
No,” Petite whispered. “Jasmine Morgan… my sister. Save her.”
 

     “
Hold on!” he said, shaking her. As her eyes closed, he felt her go limp in his arms. “God dammit,” he muttered under his breath. Gently, he kissed her sweet lips one last time, then laid her on the ground. He had no time for anything more.
 

     
The garage held a number of cars, but also a motorcycle. Lady Luck must have been shining on him for the keys were in the ignition. He pushed the bike out the open door, gave Petite one last look, then kick started the cycle. It roared into life, and down the road he flew. He had been unable to save one lady… but he could save the other.
 

Chapter Four

     
Rock caught up to them as they entered a private airfield… the very same one he’d arrived in. His jet was gone, but a few others were here. He angled the bike away from the road towards the low bushes and shrubs to give him some cover. Rock ditched the bike and snuck along the ditch, creeping as close as he could. He had no idea which plane they were taking, as the vehicle he’d seen on the road had been ditched at the side of the runway. The agent fished around in his jacket and came up with the shades Skip had sent with him. “Let’s hope these work,” he said.
 

     
As he put them on, his world changed, colored with blue, green, and orange blobs. The shades lost the edges of any objects or people, and colored the world in heat. With them, however, it was easy to see which of the jets were beginning to power up their engine. As he took off the shades and tucked them away again, a quick look told him no one was faced his direction, and he raced as low and fast as he could towards the jet, using as much of the terrain as he could to cloak himself.
 

     
The ramp was still down, but not for much longer. As a man began to close it, Rock lunged from underneath the belly of the plane. He grabbed the ramp and used his weight to lever it open. “What the--?!” the mook said, caught flat footed as Rock climbed the ramp. The jet began to move. The mook reached into his jacket for his gun, but the plane lurched, knocking him off balance. Agent Hardin grabbed him by his lapels and threw him off the ramp before thrusting himself inside the plane. He didn’t watch the thug bounce and roll on the runway, scanning the seats for Cindy instead.
 

     
She sat bound to the chair near the cockpit. LeMarchand wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Before he could move, a fist socked him in the jaw causing him to reel to the side. Ducking another punch, Rock turned to see another couple of thugs, one right in his face. He put up an arm to ward off the blows as the thug behind the first yelled, “Get out of the way, idiot! You’re in my line of fire!”
 

     
Instead of shrinking away from his attacker, Rock pushed forward, getting inside the thug’s punching range, moving him back. The second thug fired wildly as the two interlocked scrappers came lunging at him. The secret agent kept his head and used the first thug as a meat shield, though behind him Cindy screamed at the gunshots. The plane, moving already, began to lift into the air taking off to an unknown destination.
 

     
The first mook jabbed him in the side, hitting where LeMarchand had scoured him before with the barbed whip. Wincing in pain, Rock hit back, knowing just where to strike to do the most damage thanks to his martial arts training. A couple jabs to the kidney and the first mook toppled back… aided by the plane which skewed their fighting ground dangerously. The thug with the gun lost his footing, but fired again nevertheless, having a clear shot at his opponent. The plane tipped back further and further, causing Rock to stumble forward. He ducked behind a seat for cover as the last remaining mook fired once more.
 

     “
Stop shooting!” Cindy wailed. “You almost hit me!”
 

     
Both of the men ignored her. Hardin rushed forward as the mook leveled his gun, finally having regained his balance. He grabbed the gun, and the men wrestled with it as the jet began to level off, not climbing as high as it could go. Grunts of exertion and pain from elicited from both, and the mook slammed Hardin back and forth between the seats. Rock wouldn’t let go of the gun, and as he squeezed the mook’s hand, more shots fired wildly until the gun went click-click-click. Now that it was empty, he changed tactics. Hardin grabbed the mook with his free hand, swept the inside of his leg to throw him off-balance, and threw himself backwards. He rolled easily, taking the off-balance mook with him, throwing him over to land hard in the aisle.
 

     
The jet began to veer slightly, throwing the fighting ground off as Rock kip-upped, landing on his feet somewhat shakily. The mook scrambled to get to his feet, but he was too late. Rock stomped on his head, knocking him unconscious. As he drug the mook over to the door, he grunted, “Welcome to the mile high club, buddy….” The agent tossed the thug out the door and watched him sail through the air for a moment. “You just got fucked.”
 

     
With no further enemies to fight, he moved to Cindy as the plane began to take a nosedive. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he flicked his blade open, cutting her bonds. “Stay here, I’m going to the cockpit.”
 

     
The girl rubbed her wrists as he moved towards the front of the plane. “Hell with that, I’m staying with you!”
 

     
He shrugged out of his jacket when he reached the cockpit and tossed it to her as they hadn’t bothered giving her anything to cover herself. “Stay back,” Rock said, testing the door. It was locked. The plane began to fall faster, as he backed up and rammed his shoulder into the door, breaking the flimsy lock. As he thought… one of the mook’s wild shots had pierced the thin wall and killed the pilot. Grabbing the corpse, he pulled it out of the seat and sat down in it.
 

     
When Cynthia saw the dead pilot, she screamed. Rock shook his head, trying to ignore her as best he could, but the noise she created was simply ear-piercing. “Quiet,” he said. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
 

     “
You don’t know how to fly a jet!” she said, yet she moved into the cockpit, stepping over the corpse to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.
 

     “
I read about it in a book once,” he quipped. Grabbing the stick, he pulled it up slowly, leveling the plane off before he started to have it climb again. Everything else seemed to be alright. No stray bullets had hit the control panel.
 

     “
You read about it?” she asked, incredulous. However, as the plane leveled off, she relaxed a little, finally shrugging his jacket on. “Oh, funny, smart ass.”