The Thrust Page 14

  Trent tilted her chin up and kissed her lips. She opened her mouth to him, relishing the feel of his tongue against hers.

  “What about dinner?” he teased.

  She paused. “Are you hungry?”

  Trent laughed and tugged at her waistband, shimmying her pants down. “Yes. But not for dinner, delicious as it is.”

  Clarissa gasped as his fingers found her clit, thrumming a staccato beat on the sensitive bud. She unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers fumbling in her exuberance. His shirt fell open, revealing his broad, muscular chest.

  “Bedroom,” he said, and she nodded, stepping out of her pants.

  He picked her up and she straddled him, wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing him as he walked them to the bed.

  She didn’t want him to go without her tomorrow. Didn’t want him to go at all. But she knew he would, that he had to. So tonight she’d give him something to remember her by.

  Clarissa pulled him down on top of her, needing to feel his weight. He groaned as his cock, still in his pants, pressed against her body.

  “Let me,” she whispered, unbuttoning his fly. He pulled his pants off—not easy to do since she still had him trapped against her body.

  “I want you so badly,” he said. She gripped his length and he groaned in pleasure.

  “Me too.”

  He inhaled sharply and slowly sank into her heat, filling her completely. Clarissa moaned, and he pulled almost all the way out before plunging into her once more.

  Each long, delicious stroke hit her G-spot, uncoiling something deep inside her until she began spiraling into her climax, her body shuddering beneath his.

  “Come for me, Clarissa.” Trent kissed her neck, pumping his hips into her.

  She grabbed hold of his muscular ass, feeling the way the sides pulled in with each thrust, his thighs tightening between her splayed legs.

  Every nerve in her body lit up with desire, and she cried out his name as she came, her pussy clamping down against his rigid cock inside her.

  “Ahh, fuck, I can’t hold on much longer,” he groaned, and she urged him on, bucking her hips up to meet his thrusts.

  “Fuck me, Trent. Harder.”

  He paused, looking into her eyes, and he took her hand in his, pinning it above her head. “Yeah?” he asked.

  He wanted permission to take her, to hold her hand down. Yes, that was fine by her. Because it was him—not some soldier on the Tracks. Not some guy she had to fuck to get what she needed. No . . . this was all about pleasure.

  And she felt safe in Trent’s arms.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice thick.

  He pumped into her, gripping her hand as if she were the only thing holding him in reality, his body flexing with each thrust.

  “Clarissa,” he gasped, and he collapsed in her arms, his seed spilling into her.

  His hold on her hand softened, and she laced her fingers with his.

  “Be safe tomorrow,” she said softly.

  * * *

  The next afternoon Trent was back in Manhattan, again disguised as a soldier. Leaving Clarissa back in Letliv hadn’t been easy. Each time they parted ways he worried it would be the last time he saw her.

  Focus on the mission.

  He slipped through the hole he’d created in the north entrance of Grand Central and made his way to Annie’s train car on the Tracks.

  She was in there, but she was crying.

  If someone hurt his sister, he would fucking kill them.

  “Annie?” he called softly.

  Annie jumped, looking over at him. “Oh my God. Get in.”

  He stepped inside her train car and sat on the floor, out of view of anyone who might pass by.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?”

  “What are you still doing here? I thought you guys left!”

  “We did,” he said. “I came back because we need more intel. I need to meet with Evan. Can you arrange that?”

  At the mention of Evan’s name fresh tears spilled out.

  Fuck. “Is he . . . Is Evan okay?”

  “I don’t know,” she said finally. “He’s missing. I was hoping he left with you somehow. But I know they got him.”

  Trent’s chest tightened. “Who? Who has him?”

  “I don’t know. Scar was messing with him. The last time I saw Evan, he was going back to his bunk to wait for Scar to come to him . . . so that Scar wouldn’t come to me.” Annie looked at Trent, her panic rising. “I think something bad has happened.”

  “I’ll find him.” Trent took her trembling hand. “I promise.”

  Trent got Annie to talk him through where in the building the soldiers slept, and where they kept Evan prisoner the first time they brought him to the camp.

  This wasn’t going to be easy. He just hoped that they hadn’t killed the kid.

  Grand Central Terminal

  EVAN

  Evan couldn’t stay conscious long. He’d wake, his bruised body aching, with the chains still around his ankle and the darkness surrounding him. Then he’d drift off again, as much as he fought to stay awake.

  In his fevered nightmares, last night replayed itself over and over again.

  After he had snuck back to his bunk, Evan had been unable to stop thinking about everything he and Annie talked about. Killing Scar.

  He knew being in his own bed was the best way to ensure Scar stayed away from Annie, but after his confrontation with Scar earlier, Evan wasn’t even sure if Scar would make good on his threat to come after him that night.

  He lay on his cot, his eyes open in the dark, his rifle at his side.

  And then Scar came for him.

  This time, Scar didn’t cover Evan’s mouth with his hand. He just sat on the edge of the bunk and whispered to him.

  “See you decided you wanted a visitor after all,” Scar had said.

  Evan shook his head. “Please, just leave.”

  “If I leave here unsatisfied, I know exactly where to go. So.” Scar grinned, his teeth flashing in the minimal moonlight that streamed through the barred window.

  “Leave her out of this.” Evan inhaled shakily. What would happen if he shot Scar, right then?

  “Then pull down your fucking pants, and get on your hands and knees,” Scar gritted out.

  Evan felt like the world was swallowing him whole. Like he was dying, and no one noticed. His bunkmates were asleep.

  Even Private Hernandez.

  Evan pushed his pants down and turned around, obeying Scar. Because what else could he do?

  Kill him, the voice inside of him urged. But he couldn’t. He was too afraid of what would happen if he did . . .

  Evan woke in his cell with a start and cried out. No one answered. Within minutes, he had passed out again.

  Asleep was worse than being awake. While he was asleep, he relived the way Scar had mounted him, cursing softly in his ear as he tore him in two with the pain.

  After that, things got fuzzy.

  Suddenly, there was a wet thwack sound, like someone had dropped a coconut on cement. Scar collapsed on top of him, his now-wilted cock falling out of him, leaving a slimy trail of pre-come and spit down the back of Evan’s naked thigh.

  Evan rolled onto the floor with a crash and pulled his pants up.

  Standing above him, brandishing the butt of his rifle . . . was Hernandez.

  “Die, motherfucker,” Hernandez said, spitting on Scar’s limp body.

  The rest of the men couldn’t pretend to be asleep now.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “Intruder,” Evan said. “Someone came in and attacked me, tried to steal my rifle, and Private Hernandez got him.”

  Someone. He was careful to say someone, not Scar.

  It was still dark in the room, but an oil lamp was quickly lit.

  “Holy fuck, it’s a soldier,” one of the men said. He gingerly rolled the man over onto his back, blood from the body seep
ing onto Evan’s sheets.

  “It’s Scar,” another said. The man was easily recognizable given his namesake—the line of knotted skin that crossed his face.

  “We didn’t know who it was,” Evan lied.

  Hernandez jumped in. “I heard someone stealing a gun and thought it was a civilian getting ready to shoot us all. I took action, eliminated the threat. I had no idea it was Scar.”

  “We need to tell the Colonel,” one of the men said. He didn’t sound like he wanted to be the one to do so.

  Scar groaned and sat up before falling back down again, grabbing his head as if he could hold it together with his hands.

  “He’s okay!” Evan tried to sound relieved. Was he relieved?

  No. He wished Hernandez had killed that raping murdering son of a bitch.

  “Let’s get him to the infirmary,” Hernandez said.

  “I will kill all of you for this,” Scar croaked. His eyes, covered with blood from the wound on his head, were wild with anger.

  “I just did what you taught me to do,” Hernandez said, hoisting Scar up. “Eliminate threats.”

  Another soldier took Scar’s other side and helped them out of the bunk. Evan didn’t know what to do. Should he follow? Clean up the bloody sheets?

  Did anyone know Scar had been raping Evan, or had they really been asleep?

  Evan looked around at the other soldiers in desperation. “What do I do?”

  “Scar is Colonel Lanche’s next-in-command,” one guy said somberly. “I think this is worth waking the Colonel up for, especially if Scar is badly hurt. You should go tell him what happened.”

  “We didn’t know it was Scar,” Evan said again, as if lying would make it true. Make him safe.

  The other soldiers looked at each other uneasily. Then, to Evan’s surprise, they nodded in agreement.

  “There was no way to know.”

  “Seemed like a civilian sneaking in, really.”

  “Hernandez did a good job protecting us.”

  Evan didn’t know if they were trying to cover their own asses or if they really believed it, but either way the other men were sticking with his alibi.

  Now it was Scar’s word against all of theirs. Would Scar really be able to kill them all?

  God, Evan wished Hernandez had killed Scar.

  And now . . . now Evan had the unfortunate job of informing the Colonel what happened.

  He quickly changed the sheets, throwing the bloody ones into the hamper, and pulled on a clean uniform. It took him less than three minutes, but it felt like forever with the other men watching. No one was going back to sleep tonight.

  “I’m . . .”

  Fuck. He was scared to tell the Colonel. But could he tell the guys that?

  “Maybe,.” Evan said, “maybe we could all go together to tell the Colonel what happened. That an intruder snuck in and Hernandez took out the threat, and only after did we realize it was Scar.”

  One of the soldiers spoke up. “He’s right. Lanche will want to interview all of us about this. May as well get it over with.”

  “We’re going to get in trouble,” one of the guys said. “I barely know this kid. I’m not going down for him.”

  Evan bit the inside of his cheek to hold back tears of fear and frustration. “You guys were all sleeping. We all were. It happened very fast. If it hadn’t been Scar, it could have been someone coming in here to kill us all. Like Hernandez said. We were lucky tonight.”

  “My first thought was that maybe it was one of the Letliv . . . terrorists,” a soldier said.

  “The people who wrote that pamphlet didn’t sound like they want to kill people for fun,” another said. “But, yeah, it could have been an outsider. We are all on high alert, right?”

  “I better go tell Colonel Lanche what happened,” Evan said. He didn’t want to, but with Scar alive and a dozen soldiers as witness, there was no choice.

  Hernandez and the other man came back, covered in Scar’s blood.

  “Is he okay?” Evan asked.

  Please say no.

  “I woke up the medic,” Hernandez said. “She got started right away on him. She said it’s hard to tell now if he’ll be okay, because with a concussion sometimes the brain swells.” He sat down on his bunk and put his head in his hands.

  “You protected us,” Evan said. “You didn’t know it was Scar. It could have been one of the . . . the Letliv guys.”

  Hernandez nodded. “Thanks. I’ll go with you to tell Colonel Lanche.”

  Evan felt better knowing at least Hernandez would be joining him. The rest of the soldiers put their boots on, too. They would come.

  The walk to Colonel Lanche’s sleeping quarters felt safe with a dozen men who would back up their story.

  It had been stupid of Evan to feel safe when it came to Lanche. He knew that now. He was awake again, his face pressed against the cold cement floor of the closet. His head felt clearer, as if the sleep had helped.

  How long have I been out?

  Lanche hadn’t taken the news about what happened to Scar well. Obviously. But Evan hadn’t realized that he’d torture the truth about what had happened from Hernandez.

  Hernandez had caved quickly, at least according to Lanche. Evan prayed they hadn’t brought his girlfriend Marisol into the interrogation, the way they’d done with him and Annie. It was impossible not to spill your guts when Lanche had his filthy hands on your girlfriend. Hernandez had admitted that he knew ahead of time that Scar was the man in Evan’s bed. That he and Evan had planned on killing Scar if Scar ever came in there again. That they’d planned on pretending Hernandez thought it was an intruder.

  God, Hernandez had told the Colonel everything. Evan knew from personal experience just how convincing the Colonel could be when he used his “advanced interrogation techniques.”

  And then Lanche and his men beat the shit out of Evan and locked him up. But when was that? Hours ago? Days?

  No one had given him food or water; he was thirsty, but not hungry, so it couldn’t have been days.

  There was a sound at the door, rustling. Evan scooted back as far his chains would let him, so his back was protected.

  Two of Lanche’s guards opened the door—the ones who had done most of the damage to him. They unchained him silently and dragged him to his feet. Evan couldn’t walk well, though, not with his head pounding the way it did.

  At least he was holding on to consciousness better. He must have a concussion. Would his brain swell, like that medic said might happen to Scar?

  “Where are you taking me?” Evan asked, his words slurring, sticking in his mouth like peanut butter.

  “To the Colonel. Move.”

  Letliv

  JENNA

  Jenna loved having Barker all to herself. The tent they were staying in on Trent’s property wasn’t going to work forever, though, so they were looking at some of the abandoned homes on the outskirts of town, trying them on for size.

  There wasn’t much else to do, until Trent returned from Grand Central with intel about how they would move forward. How they would kill Colonel Lanche.

  “How ’bout this one?” Jenna asked, opening up a window to let some light in. A mouse scurried away. Dust covered the furniture. Whoever had lived here had left in a hurry.

  She wondered where they were now. If they were even alive.

  “It’s just like the last two,” Barker said. “Perfectly fine.”

  “You have no woman’s intuition,” she teased. “It has to pass the Jenna Test.”

  Barker grinned. “Oh really.”

  “Yup.” Jenna pushed him back onto the couch, which had a bit of a mildew odor to it. “It’s gotta be fuckable.”

  “The house has to be fuckable?” Barker shook his head, but she knew he was used to how she thought.

  “Yup.” Jenna pulled her top off, leaving her breasts bare, and straddled him.

  He immediately took her nipple in his mouth and gently bit it.

  Jenna thr
ew her head back in ecstasy, moaning with pleasure.

  “God, I love these tits,” he growled.

  “My tits love you,” she gasped. “I mean, I love you.”

  He laughed. “I love you too.”

  Barker tugged his pants down and hauled her up, flipping her over the side of the couch so her ass was in the air.

  She looked back at him over her shoulder with a smile. “Playing rough?”

  “If you want me to.” He tugged at her pants until they were around her thighs, restraining her. “You better be wet for me.”

  Jenna laughed, swaying her hips. “Or what? Will I get a spanking?”

  Barker swatted her ass, once on each cheek, just enough so she felt the warmth meld into immediate pleasure.

  “If I wasn’t wet before I sure am now,” she laughed. “See for yourself.”

  Barker slid his fingers over her pussy and moaned in appreciation. “I guess this house is fuckable enough for you, then.”

  “Mmmm. Won’t know for sure until you make me scream your name,” she taunted playfully.

  With a low, guttural sound, Barker thrust into her wet pussy, filling her completely. After all their time together, his size still shocked her.

  “Ohhhh my God,” she moaned, stilling to let her body accommodate his girth.

  “That’s right,” he murmured, thrusting inside her, in and out. Dust rose and settled with each pounding movement, lit up like sparkles in the sunlight streaming through the open window.

  “I could fuck you forever,” she said. “Let’s do that. Let’s just stay right here and fuck forever.”

  Barker reached around and grabbed hold of her swollen clit, pinching it rhythmically in time to his strokes. Jenna’s climax climbed through her and the intense energy seemed to shoot out her toes, her fingers, everywhere. Her whole body quaked beneath Barker and she cried out his name into the still air.

  “Yeah, baby, that’s right,” Barker said, speeding up, his thrusts fast and uncoordinated as he lost control and just fucked her as hard as he could.

  Jenna squirmed in pleasure under him, loving the feel of his chest against her back, of his hips slamming into her ass and thighs.