Pussycat Death Squad Read online

  He stared at her for a long moment, then asked the question she'd been dreading. “What are you doing here? I thought we were supposed to be avoiding one another?”

  Lelia shook her head, tempted to lie. But knowing he would see through it, she finally answered with the simple truth. “I don't know why I'm here. I knew you would be here, knew I should avoid you, but I came anyway.” She lowered her head, preparing to rise from the mat.

  Patrick placed his hand on her chin, raising her face. Before she could even catch her breath, he lowered his mouth to hers. She gasped against the incendiary sensation that raced through her body at the touch of his lips against hers. His answering groan rumbled in his chest as he pulled her closer; her arms automatically went around his neck. She returned the kiss, giving him her tongue when he demanded it.

  She couldn't get close enough to him. The feel of his body against hers made her want to scream in frustration because they couldn't get any closer. In one frantic motion, Patrick laid her down on the mat, moving himself on top of her so quickly she felt a moment of vertigo. She moved against him urgently, not really sure what she wanted, but knowing he could give it to her.

  Patrick slipped a hand between their surging bodies to untie her keigogi. She wore nothing but a thin T-shirt beneath it. He lowered his head, sucking one of her puckered nipples between his lips in a motion that was almost painful, but only made the heat between her legs burn even higher. She couldn't help arching her back to bring her nipple into even closer contact with the ecstasy that his mouth gave her, but then she ground her throbbing clit even harder against his engorged cock. Even through the heavy cotton of her keigogi trousers, she could feel the thickness of it.

  Though still a virgin, Lelia was far from naive. It was impossible to live in a barracks full of women, even chaste ones, and not gain some knowledge of sex. Even as she rubbed herself more urgently against him, she knew precisely what was happening when her first orgasm exploded across her trembling body.

  She pulled Patrick's head up for another torrid kiss, even while the throbbing spread out from between her legs.

  The carnal, openmouthed kiss was almost Patrick's undoing. He'd begun the kiss as an exploration. He simply couldn't resist the temptation any longer. Now he was so hard, it was everything that he could do to think at all. Despite her orgasm, she was still pushing and grinding against him, and he had to fight not to give her just what she was asking for. But there was no way that he would have sex with a woman for the first time on a sweaty gym floor mat, and it made him want to kick something, hard. Besides, he didn't have any protection on him. A keigogi, despite its simple construction, lacked any pockets to conceal a condom—an unsurprising circumstance considering that they were designed for fighting, not seduction.

  He pulled away from her, collapsing prone on the mat. Neither moved for a long moment; then Lelia reached out and touched his shoulder.

  “Patrick, are you okay?”

  “Not by a long shot. I've never been so hard up in my life,” Patrick rasped.

  Lelia moved closer. “Is there something I can do to help?”

  Patrick choked back a groan. “I'm pretty sure you don't want to do any of the things going through my mind right now.”

  “How about this?”

  Patrick gasped as she stroked a hand over his bottom and then pushed at his hip, obviously urging him to turn over.

  Against his better judgment he did as she asked, something he regretted the moment she began tugging at the drawstring of his pants.

  “What the hell are you—” He broke off as she unfastened the pants, then slipped her hand inside. He felt his control slipping away as she pushed his briefs aside. The feel of her soft flesh in such an intimate place was almost his undoing.

  With a low murmur, she stroked her hand down his cock, then pulled it slowly out of his trousers. She studied it for a moment, fondling the head. He gritted his teeth to keep from coming when she glanced back up at him with a shy smile of approval. Then she whispered, “I've heard about this, but I'm not sure how it's done. Will you teach me how to pleasure you?”

  Patrick's back arched involuntarily as he closed his eyes to restrain his need. Jesus Christ, no way in hell was he going to survive this. On the other hand, it was a helluva way to go. He answered through gritted teeth, “Just stroke it, baby, nice and slow.”

  She gave him that shy smile again; then, in a move that would've befitted any porn star, she licked her palm in a sensuous motion—a movement that made what little blood was left in his head immediately rush to his groin. Now sufficiently lubricated, she slid her hand over his cock again, squeezing rhythmically along the way. The friction was driving him insane, and he slid back down on the mat, propping himself on one elbow so he could watch her suddenly seductive moves.

  She continued stroking up and down for a long moment, her eyes focused on his cock in an avid stare that was viciously arousing. She glanced back up at him again. “Is this right?”

  “If it was any righter I'd be a dead man. Squeeze the head a little bit,” he whispered, then had to struggle to hold back a shout when she complied with his instruction.

  She continued the movements, down to the base, then back up. Now he was leaking precum in a steady stream, so she didn't need any further lubrication, but as if sensing how goddamned sexy that move was, she licked her palm again. Slowly this time, her eyes never leaving his face.

  She groaned, almost a purr in the back of her throat, as if she sensed how close he was to coming. He watched as she licked her lips, and more than anything on earth he wanted to feel her mouth on him, but it was not to be. She began really stroking him now, sliding from tip to his balls at an increasingly frantic pace. His hips jerked in time to her motions. His mind shut down completely as he focused on nothing more than his desperate need to come.

  He couldn't hold back the growls forcing their way from his throat, and then the shout when his orgasm swept him up, leaving him completely helpless in her hands. She smiled down at him, grabbing a towel from the mat, and began to clean both of them up.

  He sat up, adjusting his clothing to make himself decent. Then he took her chin in his hands and leaned forward to capture her mouth beneath his own in a tender kiss.

  “Wow, that was unbelievable,” he whispered against her lips. He looked down into her velvety brown eyes and smiled. “For a rookie, you've got skills. You took out the pro.” He leaned forward to kiss her again, but she moved away, rearranging her clothing with what seemed to be nervous energy. He lowered his hands to the mat again, giving her a questioning look.

  Lelia met his eyes briefly and looked down again, still fumbling with the tie of her uniform. “This is wrong, Patrick. I'm sorry. I guess I got carried away in the moment.”

  He grabbed her hands to still them. “You got carried away in the moment? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I told you there couldn't be anything between us. I thought you understood.”

  “I did understand, at least I did until you came here. You said yourself you knew I'd be here.”

  Lelia shook her head in apparent frustration. “I know. I'm sorry.” She rose from the mat and scurried from the gym.

  Patrick remained seated, watching as the glass door swung for a moment from the force of her exit. Then he flopped back down on the mat, an arm folded across his eyes. All that, and all she had to say was “sorry”?

  * * *

  Lelia lay on her bed staring up at the acoustic tile ceiling. Her body still throbbed with longing for what she knew Patrick could give her: sex, and lots of it. Mind-blowing, toe-curling, throw-your-knickers-away sex. She moved her hand up to stroke her breast; memories of him sucking it into his mouth didn't calm her ache at all. Over and over again she'd heard other soldiers speculate about the pleasures to be found in a man's arms. Certainly she had all the normal urges of a twenty-eight-year-old woman, but until she'd met Patrick, she'd never even been tempted. Now she realized she'd been
so sheltered that there was no possibility of temptation. Would she have responded so strongly to any man she encountered? She shook her head immediately in response to that thought. The Colonel always had men about; all his aides and various ministers were male, and some of them were quite handsome.

  This was wrong on so many levels. She wasn't even supposed to be alone with Patrick, let alone engaging in any type of physical contact like they had tonight. No wonder dating was so strongly prohibited. She didn't see how it couldn't lead to Zina. Right now it was all she could do to recall that premarital sex was forbidden. She could still feel his warm body pressed against her own, and couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if she'd allowed the situation to go further? Hot images of his naked flesh against hers left her aching and longing for more. Recalling the velvety feel of his stiff penis throbbing in her hand made her desperate to feel him deep inside. She searched for a prayer that would calm her mind and help her get past this, but all her senses were saturated with his smell, his taste—the everything of him—and she was lost. She groaned aloud in disgust.

  Was she really so weak that she would fold at the very first temptation she encountered? Forget faith and oath for nothing but sexual gratification? For she had no doubt that it was nothing more than that. The barriers between them were far too vast to be overcome, even if Patrick were inclined to do so. Nothing in his demeanor indicated that he was interested in anything more than a sexual relationship. Of course, she wasn't convinced that she wanted anything more either, but it would probably sit on her conscience better if it were about more than sex. But he'd have to convert to Islam before they could be married, and she couldn't imagine an American marine even considering such a thing. Marriage! She rolled her eyes. Amazing where a woman's overactive imagination could take her. Why on earth was she trying to turn their relationship into something more than it was? It didn't help her pride any to know that she had succumbed to what she'd feared happening to her greenest soldiers.

  She rolled over on the bed, trying to be quiet so as not to awaken Astaria, who was sleeping on the other side of the room. She didn't need a clock to tell her that it was three in the morning, nor did she doubt that this would be a totally sleepless night.

  * * *

  Lelia rushed down the long corridor, a sheaf of papers clutched in her hands. One of her soldiers had been injured in training that morning, and in the way of the military everywhere, she had to complete a stack of forms explaining what was a very minor incident. She'd almost reached the ready room when a wave of awareness made her look up. Her other senses told her before her eyes did that Patrick was coming from the opposite direction. They hadn't so much as exchanged a single unnecessary word since their sensual encounter in the gym. She knew he was angry with her; his frigid glances had made that clear. But he'd kept his word. She felt unaccountably bereft at the loss.

  He acknowledged her nod of greeting with a brief tilt of his own head. Lelia was so distracted by the meeting that she almost walked into the open door of the ready room. Her face heated further when she heard his chuckle of amusement at her discomfiture.

  A short time later, her task completed, she exited the ready room. As she walked down the now-empty hallway, a door suddenly came open, and she found herself pulled into what appeared to be a broom closet.

  She automatically struck out to defend herself, only pulling her punch when she recognized Patrick's distinctive smoky scent. She knew he didn't smoke, but for some reason he always smelled like really good pipe tobacco. Fortunately, he blocked the blow a split second before it landed on his head. He grabbed both her hands to prevent her from striking out again.

  “Sorry for the caveman tactics, but I'd prefer not to land on my ass again if I can help it.”

  They stood staring at one another for a breathless moment, their hands clasped together. Lelia was pretty sure what was going to happen next. Even so, she wasn't prepared for his words.

  “I'm going to kiss you. With tongue. I'm going to lick the inside of your mouth like an ice cream. Then I'm going to suck your tongue. I've been dying to suck your tongue. Do you have a problem with that?” The sensuality of his words was belied by the deep, angry cadence with which he spoke them.

  Lelia stared back at him, so aroused by what he'd said that she was unable to form words, even if she had had any objections.

  “You got that?” he asked a bit impatiently at her nonresponse.

  She nodded. “Yes. It seems you're obsessed with my tongue.”

  He growled in response to her smart-assed comment, barely giving her time to catch her breath as he lowered his mouth to hers and did just what he'd told her he would. The feel of his tongue stroking the confines of her mouth set off an explosion of need in her body. She shivered, pulling him closer as she returned the kiss, with interest.

  He groaned against her mouth as his hands slipped down to grip her bottom, lifting her against him and grinding her clit against his heavy erection. The kiss went on for what seemed like forever until finally they had to break for air.

  “Woman, you're driving me out of my mind.”

  Lelia shook her head in denial. “I haven't done anything.”

  “That's the problem. Look, I know you said we can't have a relationship or anything, but why can't we just hang out? Get to know one another. You've been here for a couple of weeks now, and I bet you haven't had any fun. I know some of your Guard have gone into town, but I'll bet anything you haven't.”

  Lelia shook her head. “I've been very busy. I have a lot of responsibility—”

  “So do I,” he interrupted. “But that's no excuse for not going out sometime. Go out with me. I promise you a good time. And I even promise to keep my hands to myself.”

  Lelia pointedly glanced down to where their bodies were barely paper-width apart.

  Patrick gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Hey, I'm a marine. I can be trusted to keep my hands to myself.”

  I believe you can keep your hands to yourself, Patrick. The problem is, do I want you to? This was absolutely insane; yet she couldn't deny herself the pleasure of a day in his company. “What should I wear?” she asked.

  Patrick grinned back, satisfied with his success. “Plan on an adventure. I promise you'll be very wet,” he replied cryptically.

  Chapter Four

  Heat shimmered up from the pavement like waves on a distant shore. Lelia watched it in rapt fascination. Though she was from North Africa and accustomed to oppressive temperatures, this heat was totally different. Laritrea was a mountainous country, and the cool Mediterranean breezes ameliorated the heat. This part of North Carolina was low and swampy, and with the humidity, it was like trying to breathe through a damp towel. She watched as women walked past on the sidewalk, their limbs exposed by shorts or skimpy skirts. Though she was sure they were probably much cooler, she didn't think she could ever be comfortable wearing such clothes. She looked down a bit self-consciously at the jeans and short-sleeved shirt she was wearing. It felt a bit strange to be out of uniform. She almost regretted not wearing her hijab.

  Though Patrick had said it was perfectly acceptable, she was not accustomed to wearing it when she was outside her own country. Of course, she had never been out of uniform when she wasn't at home either, but that was beside the point. She glanced over at Patrick, who was similarly attired in a dark green polo shirt that brought out the green in his hazel eyes. She watched admiringly as he navigated through the appalling traffic. Patrick had told her that even with much of the military deployed to one conflict or another, traffic in Jacksonville never seemed to lessen. She rarely drove, though she had her driver's license. Usually she served on point when they traveled, watching for danger or any attacks on the Colonel. Patrick glanced down at her with a grin when she asked again where they were going.

  “We're here,” he said, pulling into a large parking lot. He waved an arm in the direction of what appeared to be some type of amusement park.

  Lelia raise
d her brows. “You cannot be serious.”

  “What, you got something against bumper boats?”

  “Bumper boats?”

  “Sure, they're like bumper cars, only they're, well, boats.”

  Lelia shook her head, “I'm hardly dressed for water sports.”

  “Neither am I. Come on, unless you're chicken?”

  “Hardly. Apparently I was woefully misinformed about American dating customs.”

  “Really?” Patrick tilted his head to one side, his arms crossed across his chest. “So, do tell me what you've heard.”

  “It was my understanding that a gentleman would take a young lady to a movie and perhaps dinner. This place looks like it's for children.” Raucous laughter punctuated her comment, confirming her initial impression.