93 – In Pursuit

93 – In Pursuit


Leonor...

I curl my fingers into his hair, and it feels so good, so familiar, that it seems like everything in my life is about to fall back into place. That’s why I close my eyes and surrender completely to the moment.

His hands hurry to find their way between my legs, and I open them for him. Damien pulls me against his fingers, and I can’t tell if I’m the desperate one or if he is.

I like that touch so much that I close my eyes for a moment. The noise of the ship, I can’t tell if it was some kind of horn, alarm, or something else, snaps me awake and makes me push Damien away. He doesn’t seem to care and soon puts his hands back on me.

“We can’t, Damien. God. We’re on a serious search,” I say, keeping my hands pressed to his firm chest.

“We have the list and the location. We’ll find it quickly. They’re not going anywhere. Your tension, on the other hand, just keeps building.”

“These are missing organs, Damien. This is serious. They have a shelf life. We need to be fast.”

He looks at me with a wicked smile, and nothing about him suggests he’s going to change his mind about leaving right now.

“All right, my love. I’ll be quick. But you’ll owe me later,” he says.

I don’t quite understand what he means until Damien lifts me onto a piece of machinery. I balance as best I can. He crouches down and kisses my feet, moving up my legs, between my thighs.

It’s pointless to pretend to push him away. I barely try to close my legs; one look from him is enough. Powerful even from below, I know I’m lost and out of arguments. I relax my body and let him guide me in whatever he plans to do.

Damien pulls my panties aside and inhales my scent with hunger. I like the way he looks at me, full of promises.

“You’re going to come for me really fast, love. Don’t play hard to get.”

I bite my lip and nod.

The bastard devours me with thirst and hunger, like I’m the most delicious dessert in the world. Unfortunately for my sanity, the sight of this man worshiping me is too good to deny.

“Ah, Damien,” I say his name, more a breathless moan than words. “Like that…”

His tongue toys with my piercing, giving it all the attention, then letting go just as shivers race through me. I want to ask him to fuck me right here, even if it’s just with his fingers, but his hands are busy keeping me pinned in place.

I brace myself on my elbows as best I can. I want to look at him, and I want to close my eyes and feel everything.

Beautiful and sinful, as if he were sculpted to torment mere mortals. Tempting and skilled enough to drive me insane. Maybe that’s his intention.

Damien grants my wish. He fucks me with his tongue. I pull him closer and push myself forward. He slips away from me, gives my vulva a few sharp slaps with immediate effect.

“Keep that pussy still, love. I’m the one working here. Your job is to stay quiet and receive,” he says before licking me again, from bottom to top.

The intensity builds, warning me that our time is running out. He teases me more and more, brings me to the edge and pulls me back. Each time I return, I’m closer to falling.

I dig my nails into his shoulders, hating that he’s still dressed.

His hand grips my thigh, my breast over the thin layer of fabric. One more suction and the world gives way beneath me. I’m pushed off the edge and fall into a sea of pleasure, trembling from head to toe.

Damien holds me, swallowing my release and urging me to want more as my body finishes rippling.

I focus on breathing. I’m moved like a boneless doll as he takes out a handkerchief, cleans me, and adjusts my clothes. I slowly recover.

The practical way he does it, proving himself a master of my body and my desires, makes me angry at myself for losing control and giving in to him. I hate myself for it.

The mafioso adjusts his pants, the bulge obvious, fixes his hair, opens the door, and offers me his hand.

“Feeling more relaxed now, love?” I don’t answer. He gives a hint of a smile. “Duty fulfilled. Now we can focus on the next task. Come on, our time is running out.”

I want to dig my heels into the floor at his choice of words, but I can’t. Unfortunately, he’s right, and we have an urgent task. I refuse his hand and nearly trip on my heels right after, my legs still shaky.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I let him guide me, against my will, feeling dirty. I keep my mouth shut, the insults trapped inside, the urge to ask for more right alongside them. I’m sick for even thinking that.

He checks his phone and keeps moving in silence. On his screen I can see what looks like a map of the ship. I ask what it is, and he tells me his brothers managed to activate the cargo trackers.

We arrive in less than five minutes. His siblings greet us. I have a vague memory of them seeing me on the closet floor on the day of my wedding and my widowhood. The glimpse fades as quickly as it came.

The woman smiles at me, not friendly, but incredulous. The man runs a hand through his hair, the same way Damien does. Damien pulls me to him by the waist, possessive.

“Fuck,” his sister starts. “We still haven’t been properly introduced, dear. Nice to see you sober. Pleasure, my name is Chiara. This is my brother Salo. Yes, he’s younger than me. Your husband cheated on his first wife, not that you’re one to judge, I suppose.”

The man raises his hand in what looks like a greeting but ends up being a dismissal.

“I’d introduce myself, but you already know me. It’s a displeasure to meet you both and to be in the presence of the three of you,” I say.

“I believe in your displeasure at our presence, and judging by that flushed face at this hour of the night, I’m forced to disagree that it wasn’t a ‘pleasure’ to be with the distinguished gentleman,” his tone is acidic and cutting.

I shrink back.

“Don’t act like Dario, Salo. Mind your own business,” Damien says casually. He doesn’t seem truly affected. He knows he’s in control.

“Let’s get this over with,” Salo says. He pulls a key from his pocket and opens a container door. “The cargo made the process easier.”

“Must be our lucky day,” Damien comments. He and his siblings look pleased, smiling in a way that sends chills down my spine.

Salo pulls the door open, and all the pointless talk about the cargo making things easier suddenly makes sense.

“I already ordered the new trackers. Long range, and they can be inserted under the skin. I bought the batch from a veterinary clinic,” his sister says with horrifying casualness.

I bend over, nausea threatening to bring up my poorly digested dinner. Damien steadies me when my legs give out. The sight is horrific. I force myself to pull away from him and lean against a nearby wall.

It makes sense. It was obvious all along. I should have known that human organs have a short window before they become unusable for transplantation. Damn my mind, wrecked by grief and desperation.

The cargo is very much alive, despite the awful conditions. People piled together, curled over one another. They look to be between twenty and thirty years old, some even younger.

Damien clicks his tongue, displeased, mimicking a sound of irritation.

“I don’t like it when my helpful donors decide to play hide-and-seek. They’ll have to pay for the damage to the ankle monitors.”

The relaxed air vanishes from his face in a heartbeat.

“Salo, pick the best heart. The rest are all yours.”

Men in black seem to appear out of nowhere. The muffled sobs and shock turn into desperate cries.