Strangers of the Night: Touched by Passion / Passion in Disguise / Unexpected Passion. Megan Hart
didn’t speak to the armed guards posted at the elevator entrance to the floor. One or both of them might be on her team, but she never knew. Never would know, not unless it was necessary. Vadim made sure of that.
Samantha had been working at the Wyrmwood job for the past eighteen months. She’d never asked what strings had been pulled to make sure she was assigned to the fourth floor. She simply followed the rules she’d agreed to when she took the job. The money from the Crew kept coming in, deposited into an account in no way connected to the one she used for her Wyrmwood salary, and which she checked only once a month, using an encrypted burner phone she then tossed immediately. Money she couldn’t spend until she was no longer needed here.
The question was, when would she decide that she was finished with this assignment? How much longer could she stand it here before she lost more than a little bit of her own mind? Working in near silence all day long, taking the vitals of men and women who were often little more than chilly mannequins. Forcing her body into an artificial day/night cycle that fucked up her social life, not just her mental state. She was not the first person Vadim had ever assigned to this task. Sooner or later, all of those who’d come before her had ended up leaving, some of their own accord and others because they’d stopped toeing the Wyrmwood line. She’d never found out how many of them had ended up as patients themselves. Stopping for a moment in front of a closed door with nothing more than a small viewport in it, she allowed herself the briefest second to touch the cold metal. A little longer, she told herself. Surely she could last a little longer.
At the desk, positioned between the two corridors of the L-shaped building, she managed some banal chitchat with the nurse leaving her shift. Patty was nice enough. She did yoga. Had a bland husband, several unremarkable children and a couple of dogs she referred to as “fur babies” in a way that made Samantha supremely uncomfortable. She and Patty would never be friends—Wyrmwood employees were discouraged from socializing outside of work, anyway, even if they’d had anything in common beyond the job. Samantha knew, though, that no matter how normal Patty seemed, the fact she worked here at Wyrmwood meant she had the highest security clearance possible. It meant that, like Samantha, Patty was capable of killing you with a ballpoint pen or her bare hands. Not only capable, but willing.
“Quiet tonight,” Patty said in an echo of Nathan’s earlier statement. “You shouldn’t have any trouble.”
“Never do,” Samantha said with the bright, sterile smile she’d cultivated over the years as part of her armor against the “normal” world. It had worked well for this stint in Wyrmwood, that was for sure. That smile, she was convinced, was what had finally earned her the job. “Have a good night. Give the pups a squeeze from me.”
“Will do!” Patty gathered her things and signed out of the computer, pausing for another of those snapshots, and left.
Alone at the desk, Samantha released a pent-up sigh and allowed her face to fall into an expression that didn’t even come close to a smile. She was still being watched, of course. She knew that. But she didn’t have to pretend she was here for a party. If anything, the two performance reviews she’d had since taking the assignment had made note of her “professional demeanor” and “consistent attitude.”
Signing in, adding another profile picture to the files, she settled into her seat to scroll through the notes left behind by the last shift. Patty preferred crossword puzzles to extensive note taking, which was fine with Samantha, since there was rarely anything important to note. Fourth floor had twenty patients who required varying levels of care, and all of them were her responsibility.
But she was there, really, to take care of only one.
If there was something about warm, smooth skin and bristly beard stubble that wasn’t meant to send a girl straight to heaven, Persephone Collins didn’t want to hear about it. The man in the bed beside her had muscles in all the most important places, eyes as dark as midnight, hair like the sweetest Australian black licorice and, more important, a mouth made for kissing that he hardly ever used to talk. Silence was one of a man’s best qualities, according to Persephone.
Well, silence and a nice cock.
It didn’t have to be huge, she thought as she rolled over to let her hand trail down his firm, hairless pecs to the bit of fur on his belly. Just proportional. A little lower, and her fingers brushed soft flesh. He stirred, thickening under her stroking touch. His groan made her smile.
He put a hand over hers. “Again?”
“Again,” she whispered and lowered her mouth to taste him. Warm, sweet skin. Tangy. She closed her eyes to savor his unique flavor.
“Please,” he said. “I don’t think I can.”
She looked at him. “Oh, I think you can.”
“We’ve done it five times, babe.” His voice dipped low, almost into a growl that became a drawn-out groan when she again dipped her head to take him between her lips.
She ran her hands over her body, knowing exactly what he would see. High, huge breasts tipped with cherry nipples. Flat belly. Wide, curving hips. And also...
“You don’t want this sweetness?” She let her fingertips travel over the thatch of soft strawberry hair between her thighs. The hair was really hers.
Not much else was.
The guy on the bed—damn, what was his name, exactly? It began with an M. Mark? Marcus? Marcellus? Whoever he was said, “Of course I do, darlin’, but you’ve about wore me out.”
Her fingers curved around his shaft again. Stroking gently. Up over the head and around, until he arched. Cock stiff. The sound of his moan rippled through her.
Oh, how she loved fucking.
Especially men built like working out was their job. Oh, right, she thought as he continued to respond to her touch. It was his job. She’d met him at the gym. He was a personal trainer.
It surprised her when he sat up to put one big hand on the back of her neck to pull her close for a kiss. She managed to turn her face at the last second so their lips slid against each other quickly, barely connecting. She urged his mouth along the line of her jaw and down her throat. Lower, to her breasts. He licked and sucked at one nipple, then the other, and although this body that he was worshipping was mostly illusory, it still felt good. More than good. Fantastic.
Desire rose within her, trickling through her veins. Filling her. It swept away everything except the urge for mindless ecstasy.
“Come up here.” Strong hands urged her upward to straddle his face.
His tongue slid against her, effortlessly finding her clit. His hands kneaded her ass cheeks—plumper than her own. Softer. Her real body was tight, lean, hard with muscles she’s built at the gym where they’d met. The gym where he’d never paid a second of attention to her before today, when her rising need had made her focus on him.
Persephone shook away these thoughts. She needed to come, to lose herself in exploding pleasure. To be swept away by fantasy, not reality. She looked down at his face, his eyes closed as his mouth worked on her.
“There,” she murmured, rocking against him. Letting the sensations swirl inside her from deep in her belly. “Oh, yeah. Right there. Right there.”
She’d intended to ride his cock one more time before using his shower, helping herself to whatever was in his fridge, perhaps lifting the contents of his wallet before leaving him sleeping in the tangled, sweaty sheets left behind after their marathon fuck session. However, she wasn’t going to turn down the delight of his lips and tongue against her. It was better, in fact. Taking this pleasure from him without having to focus on his.
He muttered something against her. The vibrations sent another surge of pleasure, up, up, twisting tight and coiling. She cried out as her thighs trembled. Her cunt clenched, throbbing.