The Perfect Weapon Ending 1 Chapter 1001: Part 1 Section 3 of 7
Ending 1 Chapter 1001 Part 1 section 3 of 7
They had fallen asleep, entwined, the yards and yards of golden sari fabric interwoven between them. Much later, she woke up, she knew, with a smile on her face. Levering up on an elbow, she looked down at him, at his profile in the moonlight. Delicately tracing a light finger across the arch of his eyebrows, then along his nose, over his lips and down his chin, she rested a fingertip on the base of his neck, feeling his pulse. Gently easing away from him, she went into the bathroom and creamed off her now-smudged makeup. Coming back into the room, she stared for a long while at his long body stretched out on the bed, the gold fabric crossing one of his broad shoulders shimmering in the moonlight. Walking over to the window, she noted that they had never made it outdoors...She should probably extinguish those citronella torches, but... She looked back over at him and thought, that would be a waste.
Frowning, she watched him sleep, sensing that she had missed something tonight. She had intended that the night be all about him, but somehow he had turned it into something else. Something wonderful, but...She felt as if she hadn’t found him or rather, not him, but some part of him, something he wanted or needed. She had come close, she knew, but...what was she missing? Some hint she had not taken, some clue she had not found. Or not understood.
Touching his skin lightly, smiling as he murmured, “Laura...” in his sleep, she let her mind wander, thinking about the night, about all the nights and days since she had begun to change, to open up to new ideas, ideas that brought her beyond herself. Sucking in a breath, realizing he had just given her the most incredible gifts...his faith in her... she decided that her first instincts had been correct.
This was not about trust so much as it was about control. Or maybe it was both, but maybe Jack had to take a step toward relinquishing control. Maybe that’s why he liked her strength? Hmm. She would remind him that they had always taken turns. That it was now her turn to find what he wanted, what he deserved to have, as Dave would say, although she was sure he was wrong about the trust business. She just had to put all the clues together and find her way. He would have the patience to allow her to do so, she knew. Knew too, that the love and trust in his eyes would give her all the courage she needed.
Running her hand through his hair one last time, she stood up. Padding silently into the closet, she surveyed her jewelry cabinet. That jewelry had been a wonderful starting point, had encouraged his comments, his revelation that he had wanted to see her as a queen, as a strong woman, as a powerful partner. What could that mean in their life, in their love making? What should she do? Where was the answer? Methodically, she opened every drawer and every jewelry case she owned, searching for an answer. It had to be here. These jewels had all been hints, clues...Surely, there was one more, if she could only see it.
Finally, she opened a large drawer in her jewelry cabinet and took out the weighty gold necklace that was the only item in it. The item she had been avoiding. Holding it in her hand, she stared at it. Jack had told her it was called freeform jewelry-making. She had told him it looked savage. Had said it was strangely enticing but...dangerous in some way. He had quickly agreed and looked at it hungrily. She had never understood his reaction to it. It was not particularly beautiful and in fact it almost scared her every time she saw it. She didn’t know what to do with it, she had thought, would not know how to act wearing it. Shrugging, she fastened it around her neck. Looking in the mirror at herself, the rosy, swollen lips, the hair tousled and wavy around her, the new assurance in her eyes from his reaction to her efforts for him, she tilted her head.
Tonight...this necklace matched her, matched the way she felt. She had never worn it because she had never been able to match an outfit to the piece, the necklace so strong it never seemed to match anything. Now, staring at herself, she realized her mistake. The heavy gold swirls that covered her upper chest, the large uncut gemstones that were both embedded in the sworls and dangling from them onto her breasts were meant to be worn like this. As a woman’s only adornment. The only possible competition for the power of this kind of artistry was nudity. And confidence in your own power.
This was a powerful piece. It both complimented a transformation within, into a woman, and accelerated the transformation into...what was it, how did he see her? He had said tonight, that the beauty, the power, the radiance, he had seen, shown her, was the real her. Was it? She looked like...she could defeat anything in this necklace. Was this woman standing so proudly, unafraid, the real her? With him? She should just...let go, a little voice said as she ran a hand down each side of her nude body, discovering herself in that moment, a self she had not known.
Yes, she needed to be nude to wear this, she thought looking at herself carefully in the mirror. He must have known that. Why hadn’t he told her? Asked her to wear it like this, those times he had asked about the necklace, why she never wore it? She would have...But then again, before this moment, she could not have carried it off, would have felt intimidated by the sexuality of the piece, the power in it.... He would have known that. He must have been waiting. He was good at waiting. What else had he been waiting for?
Throwing on a plain white long nightgown to hide her intent, she walked back into the bedroom. Smiling at the innocence of his face, soon to be changed, she shook his shoulder and spoke clearly, knowing by now that it was a bad idea to wake him softly because he thought it was an ambush, “Jack! Wake up. It’s Laura.”
“Okay. What is it?” He sat up immediately, wiped the sleep from his eyes. Then seeing her, gave a sleepy smile. “Oh. What’s up, honey? Why do you have a nightgown on?”
“Because we’re going outside and I don’t want to traipse around naked.”
“Ousside?” He yawned. “But didn’t we just-“
“Hours ago. You’ve had time to recover,” she teased and tugged his hand.
“Can’t I get any respite from your demands?” he asked smiling, even though he was yawning. She pulled him out of bed and across the floor. “Wait, don’t I need to put something on?”
“Jack Bristow, you could walk naked across the Agency rotunda and care less, so you can certainly walk into our dark back yard in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, I don’t know. What if Mrs. Greenlaw is an insomniac and she’s up getting warm milk and looks out the window and sees my-“
“Jack!” She turned and gave him a glare, then laughed seeing the sleepy mischief in his eyes. He laughed too and they raced outside. Only then did he notice that she had brought out several citronella torches long before he had arrived home. Walking forward, he waited for her directions as she pulled one torch out of the ground and looked around. Pointing in the direction of the edge of the flowerbed, behind a short wall formed by roses and jasmine, he stopped when he saw the blankets piled on the ground. She walked over to him, stepped over the shrubs, barely noticing as they caught at the cotton of her flowing nightgown and held out her hand.
He stepped over and waited, looking at those blankets. Suddenly, he smiled, “No substitute for extensive background....preparation, eh?”
And she realized he was right, that she should have thought about this a little harder before tonight, thought about those clues, those patterns. Damn Dave for being right too, he was so annoying, like some sort of...guilty conscience or something. As she stood there, holding the last citronella torch in one hand, debating where to place it, she felt his stare and turned toward him. Noting his wide eyes scanning her body, she paused, realizing the torches had backlit her and he could see through the thin layer of cotton as well as he had seen through the golden silk of the sari. He stared and then gestured toward the nightgown. “Take that off.”
Out of nowhere, but in reality, from the depths of her mind as all those clues came together, inspiration struck. “You dare to make a demand of me like that?”
His eyebrows rose. He grinned, ready for whatever game she wanted to play. “Please? I’ll...do whatever you want if you do that for me.”
“So you will. Lie down on the blanket. Now.”
She smiled at the speed with which he complied. “You can take directions well.” When you want, she added to herself, licking her lips as he raised himself on one elbow and bent one knee. Too bad she had forgotten her camera. She handed him the torch.
Suddenly she whipped off the nightgown and tossed it onto the big floribunda rose bush he had given her. Grabbing the torch from him, she stared down at him watching her open-mouthed. He stumbled over his words, to her surprise, as he said, “Laura- what? You...the moonlight...I....”.
She had truly shocked him with her abandonment of modesty, she saw. Then her eyes wandering down his body, she raised her eyebrows, oh...she had more than shocked him. My. Oh, my. Then she saw exactly where he was staring. That necklace, that savage necklace, that glinted in the moonlight like some sort of pagan talisman around her neck. Seeing the fierceness of his response, seeing his hand automatically move to touch himself, she moaned. Clearly, she should have worn this necklace before.
“You look.... You look...” he stammered, while she stared at him.
It was her turn to be shocked. Not by what his hand was doing, so unconsciously she realized as her breath hitched at the sight. No, by his utter lack of words. Jack was never speechless. What had she tapped into? Right now, staring at that necklace, than at her face, then at her holding the torch, she saw something in his eyes, something new, some willingness to enter uncharted territory. But what in the world could be left for them to explore? Ask, a little voice told her, just ask and you may receive what you need... To give him what he needs?
“I look...What? Tell me. I need to know,” she demanded.
“Like a warrior. My god.”
My god, her instincts sitting there before her jewelry cabinet contemplating that necklace had been right. She should listen to her inner voice more often, she decided as he continued, finding words.
And what words, she thought then and had never forgotten.
“That necklace...With that necklace, that torch, the moonlight, the scent of roses and jasmine in the air, your hair so wild around your shoulders. You look like a warrior queen now.....Just what I want. Need. Beautiful. Radiant. Powerful. And now? Dangerous.”
He licked his lips and brought both hands to his hardness, while she tried to hide the gulp. What had she unleashed? Say something, Laura! She told herself, then just let go, let the words flow straight from wherever it was that wisdom resided.
“Are you in my power?” she asked, staring down at him.
“Uh-huh.” He nodded absently, still staring at her, reaching a hand out to stroke the long muscle in one of her taut thighs.
She stared at him in shock once again. Jack ‘Mr. Vocabulary’ Bristow had just said, ‘uh-huh’? Unbelievable. She lifted the torch up, watching him watching her, and shoved it into the ground with a stronger-than-needed push, just to see his reaction. He swallowed hard and gripped her thigh with one large hand. His hand was so warm, she thought with a shiver. She wanted that warmth. Wanted him. She ran her fingers up and down the pole of the torch as she thought and he swallowed again.
“If I’m a warrior, are you...my prisoner?” she asked softly, pushing her other leg forward so that his other hand would begin to touch her there as well.
“You bet.” He began massaging both legs, staring up at her dazedly, making her groan involuntarily. Then she realized what he had said.
“Jack,” she hissed, bending toward him, “Play the game.” His eyes focused again and he nodded. She repeated slowly, “If I’m a warrior, are you my prisoner?” she asked. Then she spread her legs a little further apart and stuck her hands on her hips. He looked up at her and licked his lips. She put both hands in his hair and ran them across his scalp, massaging. He looked like he might...purr at any point, she thought in amazement.
“Yes. Yes. I am your prisoner and I have to do whatever you want.”
What I want, she thought, is to understand that puzzlebox of your mind. The key to understanding Jack, she had always thought, or rather had felt with woman’s intuition, instinct, the key lay in his sexuality. Was she closer to understanding him if she played this game right?
“So, my prisoner, lean back and put your hands up, over your head...Yes, like that...” She knelt down next to him and just looked at him. “So, strong...Mine now...” she murmured, as she skimmed her hands over the muscles in his arms. Felt the latent power in the bunched muscles and marveled that such a strong man, strong in all ways, would allow himself to be so vulnerable. That a shy man would show so much of himself to her. This was...power, she thought. This was the power of love, the paradox of love. That in giving you received. Would she ever fully understand it, she wondered, as she bent down and ran her lips along his arms, bit and licked her way to his shoulder.
She thought again of his words in the past, wondering which were clues, remembered earlier telling him he would have to pay, as she had so many times and he replied as he had so many times, ‘I live in hope.’ What had he hoped for? What would a man like Jack hope for? What...
“Jack says that when he is with you he feels free...”
Freedom, how would Jack find freedom? Control....control, loss of control? But, that could be too scary for him, she thought. She could not, did not want to force him to lose control. She understood, if only dimly, that he would immediately retreat if she tried to demand that. But....what if he could hand over the control to her? He would have to trust her, but he did, Dave was wrong, there were no trust issues. Were there? She looked down into his eyes, warm, happy, at his smiling mouth. And decided no, there was no problem with trust between them.
“You have so many transgressions for which you need to pay.” She began and watched the smile fade and something else begin to flare in his eyes. “How will you pay, my prisoner?”
“I believe that would be your choice. I have no power. It is your choice. I await your...pleasure,” he said quietly, although his eyes danced and his skin rippled in response to her every touch as she explored him.
She had him! She thought in exultation. She had figured it out. But careful, careful....Don’t make assumptions.
“So you do. And do you know what my pleasure might be?”
“Tell me. You must tell me so that I make no errors. I do not want to have to pay for yet more transgressions.” His eager eyes gave the lie to those words, she thought with a smile.
“I want us to explore each other, to know each other, to touch and kiss and lick and-“
“Bite? Do you, would you like me to bite you? Everywhere?”
She moaned. “Yes. Bite. And suck and stroke. Until we cannot hold back anymore. But....” She shook her head, trying to find her own control. She had to have it for both of them. For once, for the first time, really.
“But what?” He asked impatiently, moving his body until she put a hand on his shoulder and held him still. Or rather, she thought wryly, he allowed her to hold him still. What a dangerous game this was, this game of consent.
“But you are in my power, correct?”
“Yes. Your wish is my command.” He turned his head and kissed her arm, lightly bit the muscle in it, then nibbled on it the way he knew she liked until her next words.
“My wish is ...to take you.” She said it firmly, slowly, waiting. Then winced as he inadvertently bit her hard. Shaking his head, he licked the hurt and kissed it before turning to face her. She sucked in a breath at the intense flare of heat in his eyes as he looked up at her. His face was blank with shock, then tight with desire. She felt the tenseness of his muscles, saw his desire, impossibly, grow even more. She straddled him, holding his hips tightly between her knees as she raised herself on her hands on either side of his shoulders. Watched his eyes drop down her body, saw his gaze trace the pattern of the necklace on her chest the rise and fall of the dangling uncut gems on her breasts.
“Take me? What does that mean?” he asked cautiously raising his eyes finally. His eyes were hopeful, but knowing she had never acted like this before, there was also caution. She smiled. Cautious, so...Jack. So careful of...What? What was he being careful of? His own hopes, his own desires? Was he afraid that this could not possibly be happening? Or was he, could Dave be right, damn him? Could he be afraid to trust her?
She leaned over him, took his mouth in a kiss that surprised him, she could tell for a moment, until his mouth opened under hers. She kissed him and kissed him until she felt his mind, his heart open even more as she gave him everything she could, told him everything she dared not speak with her voice, but the truth she could convey with her lips.
Finally, reluctantly lifting her lips, then delving back down when he protested and lifted his mouth to hers again, she swallowed. Took a deep breath, cleared her head. “I want to take you. Make you mine. I want you to give me everything you can give me. Your body, your love, and the most important thing tonight that you can, no, will give me? Do you know what that is?”
“No,” he moaned, as her mouth took his again. She dropped down, rubbed her breasts and the loose gems against his chest. He closed his eyes in delight and arched his back forcing their bodies together. “No, I don’t know what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”
“Yes, you will. Because you don’t have a choice, remember?” Replaced the dangling gems with her fingers, rubbing his nipples into hardness as he squirmed under her. She knew how much control he must be exerting to keep his hands above his head. Knew how lucky she was that he was allowing this game, this way to find him. Did he know, sense, what might happen? Or did he think it was just one of their games? “I have taken your choices away, remember?”
“Yes, just---”
“You have to please me, correct?” He nodded. His eyes opened wide as she moved her fingers to her own nipples and began rubbing the gemstones against them. “Because I am in need of the pleasure you can give me.”
“I can see that...” he said absently, watching her hands as she watched his face tighten. Well, clearly, Laura, you should have tried this before, she thought wryly, feeling his body’s response against her buttocks, as she unconsciously rubbed back into him.
“But do you know what would give the greatest pleasure?”
“Biting?” he asked. Swiftly leaning on his elbows, he bent up and gave a sharp nip to the tip of her breast as she held it for him between her fingers.
“No, not biting, although....” she moaned as he did it again. No, she thought, this could not go on, she had to be the one to maintain control and if he did that enough... “Not biting,” she repeated, even as she shuddered as he held her nipple between his teeth.
“Not biting? Hmm, my informants were wrong about your...needs, then,” he said, with an eager smile. “Tell me, how did my background research fail so badly?”
“Because they did not know that every time between us would be...rife with new possibilities.”
“Ah. So not biting? How about licking?” he asked and with a warm sweep of his tongue, drew a gemstone against it and then against her nipple, licking them both. Somehow, she thought, she was enjoying it more than that amethyst.
“No, not licking,” she answered, although it was difficult, so difficult. God, how did he do this for her every time? Maybe she wasn’t as good at this as he was, because....Well, then she decided, she would have to improve. Heaven forbid, she not be the star in any class. Good, Laura, that distracted you and-oooh, no, he-
“Sucking?” he asked softly and drawing his teeth along her nipple first, pulling it out, he suddenly clamped his lips around it and sucked hard. She bucked against him, involuntarily trying to get closer, just to get him inside her, when she thought, NO! Not this time. No, this time was for him. With a groan, she shoved back and away, groaning again as his mouth left her flesh.
“No, that is not it, either. For such a renowned warrior, you are not excelling at ascertaining the correct strategy this night.” She smiled, as one hand traced the lines of his mouth and the other circled one of his nipples, then flicked across it. She took her hands and grabbed his and forced them back over his head.
He shivered, but she could tell it was delight, not cold that made the flesh so sensitive as he moaned under her. Gathering his thoughts, he asked “No? I must have more to learn. Tell me, tell me.”
“Oh, I will. In a minute,” she said and bent down. As she neared his neck, he arched his head back and she stopped, struck by the vulnerability of his presentation of his throat to her. Struck by the moment, by what he was offering, she paused and then feathered her tongue across the pulse in his neck, knowing how much he liked that, then nibbled up and down until his hands came up to hold her head in place.
“Anything, anything, I’ll do whatever you want. I have no choice, correct?” he said softly, turning his head, trying to find her mouth as she evaded him. She put his hands back over his head and held them there for a moment, until he nodded.
“Yes.” She darted in and kissed him for a moment only, then moved away to ask softly, even as he protested, “You have to do it, don’t you?”
“Yes, I have to. Whatever you want?” he asked, growing curious, she could tell, even as the needs of his body were beginning, she thought, to cloud his mind as much as hers were, watching his response, then moving her own body downward, as she reached a strong hand down and clasped him. “What is it?” he asked demandingly. “Tell me. Now.”
She stopped moving her hand. “You are in my power, prisoner. You cannot make demands.” Then she bent her head down and moved her mouth over him, over inch of him she could reach, taking her time, wanting to hear his gasps, his moans, as he obeyed her and kept his hands above his head, only able to respond to her with his words and his body’s response. As her mouth hovered above his jutting hardness, she paused. He groaned and shifted his hips upward. She pressed a hand down on his hip, pushing him back down. “I did not say you could do that,” she said in a warning tone, although she knew there was a smile in her eyes. “That is a demanding movement and prisoners cannot make demands. Remember?”
Ready she thought, to go over the edge, he nodded reluctantly and waited, no doubt thinking this was just a teasing game, that she would never push him the way she intended to. But he was wrong, because no, they were not close to giving him what she thought he truly wanted, needed. He did not have to accept a reasonable facsimile, she thought firmly, she could do this. She could. She slid her tongue out and circled him, thinking, ha, I can make circles too. Over and over until she could feel in the trembling of his thighs, see in the bunching of his arm muscles, held so rigidly over his head when she knew that he wanted to reach out and grab her, that he was so close, but not close enough....
“What do you want? Really want, Jack? Tell me...”
“I’ve already told you everything you need to...” he trailed off, she knew, because he could not tell her a lie.
“Tell me. You can tell me anything.” Then she had a thought, even as she bent her head and nibbled on him, smoothed her hands along his thighs, gripping the hardness of those muscles as well. She lifted her head slightly, just enough that she could speak, but her breath would still tease him as she spoke. “You will tell me everything. You have to tell me, remember? You have to do what I want. And what I want is to know this. What do you want most?”
When he still hesitated, instinct told her to try a different tactic for a moment. The truth. So, she slid back up his body. Cupping his face between her hands, she whispered, “It’s me, Laura. Your wife, who loves you. Tell me. What do you want most?”
He swallowed hard, shuddered as she saw something in his eyes, some...decision? she wondered, as he nodded and said very softly. “Freedom.”
She nodded and kissed him, rewarding him for his honesty.
Hearing, Jack says he feels free when he is with you....
But don’t make an assumption, Laura, find out the meaning of that.... “What does that mean to you?” she asked, making her way back down his chest, over his abdomen, then lower still. She asked the question again, as she slid her tongue out and began caressing him.
“That I don’t always have to be in control,” he blurted out, then gasped as her mouth closed over him. Positive reinforcement, she thought to herself. She had been wise not to assume. She would have assumed that freedom just meant that freefall they felt together. But, he meant something else in addition to that. How could she.... Control was so important to him, for whatever reason... Why was that, she wondered? Control...something he would not easily relinquish... but how could she...And suddenly it all came together, his comments, his responses... She could give him this freedom tonight. He was already halfway there.
“You’re my prisoner...” she began, lifting her mouth, but stroking her tongue along his length. “I am in control and you are my prisoner. Yes?”
“Do I have any choice?” he asked in a raspy tone, raising his hips up toward her mouth. She pressed a hard hand on his hip, pressed him back down.
“I didn’t say you could do that,” she said, kissing his hip, feathering her tongue in small circles.
She lifted her head. Purred against his flesh, not even knowing from where this voice, these ideas came, but letting go, said, “What I want, my prisoner, is for you to relinquish control. You will lose control.”
She saw the flare of interest in his eyes, felt it in the tenseness of his body, then realized that he had not responded, that something held him back. Some fear...some worry that lay beneath his need for control. Someday, someday she vowed, she would understand it, but tonight, now, was not the time. Right now was the time to give him surcease, release, to take the first step. What would work?
She lifted one hand and gently touched his hair, cupped his cheek, traced his mouth. The familiar gesture relaxed him and she bent down and gave him a gentle, loving kiss so that he could find his Laura in the woman above him. Against his lips, her hands in his hair, her body resting along his, as so many times before, she told him, “You will give over control to me by promising me that you will not allow yourself to come until I allow you to do so.”
Would that work? He would be handing over control to her, but not really losing control because someone was in control, they were not lost? Was that the right combination for him? Yes, she decided as she saw him come to a decision, as he nodded.
“Yes,” he said simply. Then made her heart melt, the way only he ever could or would, merely by lifting his mouth to her and waiting for her kiss. Seeing the love, the faith, the hope in his eyes, she was shaken. This was a huge responsibility, someone else’s heart and happiness. No wonder, those hearts he had given her today had been on chains.
The chains of trust, as he lifted his arms around her and opened his thighs as her legs slid between his legs. As she made love to him again, in a new way, this time for the first time, without hesitation, without worries, without fear of doing something...wrong, that she had not even realized until this moment had hampered her before. In giving him freedom, she had found her own. Another of those damn puzzles she could never solve.
“Honey, I’m....” he said brokenly, breaking out of the game. “I can’t...I’m losing it...You’ve taken me too high and I am lost and I’m going to....”
“You’re not losing it. You’re finding it. Finding me, you, us. That connection. Take it, take it. I’m giving it to you.” She slid her body up his and impaled herself on him, causing him to groan so loudly, she opened her eyes wide in shock. Moving her body against his, she leaned down and captured his mouth with hers. Against her lips she felt his breathing grow harsh and unsteady and she reveled in his response.
“You are mine, mine,” she moaned. “My prisoner, my spoils of war. Mine.” Then she gasped as his fingers slowly, languidly began touching her. “Yes, and I am so lucky....” She kissed him wildly once again, feeling his control become more and more tenuous, felt the struggle within him as he sought control, felt her own control become as gossamer thin as the silk of the sari. “No, you do not get to choose, to make the choice, Jack. I am taking you remember?”
“Yes, yes. Please, take me.”
“I will take you when I am ready,” she moaned into his mouth, and continued moving her body against his, then her hands, touching everywhere she could reach, his shoulders, his neck where her mouth began biting, his strong arms and she marveled that this strong man was allowing her to make him so vulnerable, wondered where true strength lay and then lost the thought as he moaned and shuddered under her, as her fingers stroked his nipples, her mouth took his, as her body took his.
“Come for me. Now, Jack. Now. I want to take you, take you, take you.” And he looked up at her, she fell into his eyes, into his need and want and desire even as his body stilled, waiting, waiting and suddenly she knew what he was waiting for and called out, “I love you.”
He arched his back and poured into her. She looked up as he tangled one hand into her hair and to her utter shock, put his other hand in his mouth and bit down hard on it as a guttural noise erupted from his throat and his head arched back. That, that is what she had been waiting her entire life to see, she thought, and began to scream just as one hand came forward to touch her lightly and his other hand came up and covered her mouth.
Falling forward on him, she whispered, her heart still pounding, “I don’t know how I could vanquish you, prisoner, you are so strong.”
“You make me weak and strong at the same time,” he whispered, staring at her face. One hand came up and explored her features as if he had never seen her before.
She sat up on him, wanting to look at him, wanting to touch him. She ran her fingers up and down his arms, his strength fascinated, enticed her, as it always had. So much latent power.
“How can that be?” she asked, as her lips replaced her hands on his arms, as her hands began moving across the bunched muscles of his chest.
“The eternal paradox,” he said softly, watching her hands move down his body.
“Eternal paradox? I...do not know this.” She heard her accent, her foreign intonations slide out and sighed with relief that he was accepting it clearly as part of the little game. This was so dangerous. She could get lost in this game. This game of unlocking his mind.
She took a breath, told herself to focus as she said, “I understand that not only are you a warrior, but that you are also a learned man. In my backward country...” With one hand she touched the necklace and traced one of the sworls, watching his eyes follow her fingers. Watched her play with that necklace that encased her, nearly weighed her down with the heaviness of the sworls and swirls and twists and gemstones that glittered in the glow from the torch. “In my backward country, we prize....knowledge. Perhaps you can trade that knowledge for your freedom.”
“Perhaps I will not want to be free. Or perhaps my knowledge is a puny thing, unworthy of---”
“I hear that you have written a manual...”
His mouth quirked. ‘Good try,’ he mouthed. Then said in the tones he was using for the game, “It did not cover this eventuality.”
“What eventuality is that?” she asked, moving her hands down to his thighs and massaging the muscles there, hearing his groan.
“When the predator become the prey,” he asked, shifting his body under her hands, trying to maximize the sensations.
“Did it also cover this eventuality?” she asked softly, kissing him with all the love she could muster.
“What is that?” he asked, breathing heavily once again.
She cupped his face, that beloved face, in her hands and smiled at him. Smiled wider as his hand came up and his fingers traced her mouth for once.
“That the captor falls in love with her captive? That the new predator adores her prey?” She dropped a kiss on his mouth.
“No. I never imagined that eventuality. Is it a possibility that I have overlooked?” he asked, smiling. She stared at him, realizing that she was seeing something rare, Jack Bristow completely relaxed.
“Definitely.”
“Should I, in the cause of exhaustive background research for my people, investigate this matter?” His mouth quirked up on one side. She leaned down and bit his shoulder. Hard. He laughed.
“That would presuppose you might have another occasion to apply the results of your research. And I can assure you, my prisoner, that I will never let you go. Or share you. That is one price you have to pay.”
“Ah. That is my hope. But what if I should be able to escape and return home?”
“Ah. But what if you do not wish to escape?” She asked, rubbing her leg along his.
He reached up suddenly and tugged her chain and she automatically went toward him, fell fully on top of him, anticipating that he would, as always, catch her. Holding her tightly, wrapping one leg around hers, he pulled her head down to his. Just as she leaned forward to kiss him, he rolled them, pinning her underneath him. “Ah. But what if you do not wish to escape?” he asked, ignoring her attempts to dislodge him that faded away into nothing more than moans as his mouth touched hers. “What if my arms became your home? Your querencia? What if?”
Sitting there on the bed in Panama, all alone, she wrapped her arms around herself, and rubbed her goose-bump-covered-skin, trying to get warm. Shook her head, trying to evade that question, as she had always wanted to evade that question. She hated that question. Always had. Or at least she always had ever since that day she had looked down a street and watched it curve away from her, unable to see the end. What if she had turned around? Then or later? What if....? Bah, that question was not helpful. Regrets were not helpful. One had to look forward...but....
What if...
What if...
What if....
Jack loved that question. That was how he ran games, very often, she knew. That damn elliptical thought process of his. Starting at the end and then allowing his brain to circle back and around and anywhere it wanted, searching for connections and ideas...And it had always driven her crazy. The shortest distance between two points was a straight line. ‘Just keep focused,’ she had told him so often, thought more often. He would laugh, ask her, ‘What if you just let your mind go, let it find its own path? Maybe it would go straight, maybe it wouldn’t. What would happen? You’ll never know if you don’t try, let go. So, what if....’
What if...
What if...
What if....
TBC at Chapter 1001 Part 1 section 4