Triple Team: A Military Reverse Harem Romance, page 30
I sat next to Michael on the edge of the roof. “I should start listening to podcasts.”
“Oh?” he said. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. But this is a lot of wasted time.” A spark of mischief tickled my stomach. “It doesn’t have to be totally wasted…”
“What do you mean?”
He was on his knees with the rifle resting on the edge of the roof. I leaned back, reached up between his legs, and grabbed hold of what I found.
“I see,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Nothing too fun,” I said in a sultry voice while stroking him through his pants. “Just a little teasing.”
He put down the rifle and took me in his arms. “It is only teasing if we do not go further.”
We kissed passionately under the stars with the Pakistani city all around us. The danger of the situation made it all the more fun as I pulled down my pants and got on my knees before him.
Michael was usually deathly serious while on a mission. I enjoyed coaxing him out of his shell. It made me feel sexy. He wanted me more than he wanted to focus on the job.
He went down behind me and kissed my wet slit from behind, his hands grabbing my hips as he buried his face into my sex. His long tongue did wonderful, terrible things to me while I tried to keep my moans from revealing our location. Danger was hot. Dying wasn’t.
“I want to take you here,” Michael growled. “Now.” As I looked over my shoulder at him his dark eyes sparkled in the night.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked.
He unbuttoned his pants and began to ready himself behind me when the walkie-talkie squawked. “We’ve got action. Coming around the south. Blue van.”
“Fuck,” I cursed. Then into my walkie-talkie: “Copy that, Donovan.”
We dressed while grumbling and giggling to ourselves like teenagers who had been caught by their parents, then peered over the edge of the roof. Sure enough, a blue van came down the side street around the corner from the bank and then pulled up front, parking right at the entrance. The van door opened and three men with guns poorly-hidden beneath coats strode toward the bank.
“What do we see, Jules?” Donovan asked.
My fingers flew over the keyboard of my laptop as I accessed the live security feed inside the bank. It was a harder job than I’d expected; Karachi might not have been the most high-tech city in the world, but its banks did their due diligence when it came to blocking leaky firewall ports. Even still, within moments I had the security camera feeds up on my screen.
“They’re skipping the elevator,” I said. “Taking the stairs.” I switched camera feeds until I found the stairwell. “Second floor… third… fourth. They’re getting off on the fourth.”
“On my way through the back door,” Donovan said.
“Yeah you are,” I giggled into the walkie. Even Michael let out a snort.
While Donovan entered the building from the other side, I watched the ground below. A figure clad in all black sprinted across the open street until he reached the van. He disappeared around the back side. I held my breath for ten long seconds, waiting anxiously for his report on the radio.
“Driver neutralized,” Gregor finally said. Moments later we saw him walking from the van to the building. He had the driver’s hands bound and a bag over his head, and pushed him to his knees by the front door. Then he zip-tied his hands to the door handle and jogged away.
“Now it’s up to Donovan.” I peered through my binoculars at the fourth floor of the bank. Even though the lights were off in most of the building we could see the dark figures walking around inside. Moving down the hall toward the corner office where the bank manager was working without a clue in the world.
“Come on Donovan,” Michael growled while aiming his rifle. “Come on…”
A flash of gunfire from the terrorists lit up the bank hallway like a strobe light. Donovan’s dark shape moved among them, disarming them with strategic punches and kicks. One terrorist dropped to the ground, then another.
The lights came on in the hall. The final enemy had put 20 feet of distance between himself and Donovan. Our teammate froze, hands raised to the ceiling. The terrorist raised his gun.
Michael’s sniper rifle boomed. The sound echoed off the buildings all around and disturbed what looked like bats from many of the nearby rooftops. Across the way, the terrorist dropped his rifle and then fell to the ground, clutching his belly.
Donovan lowered his hands, gave a quick thumbs-up in our direction, then resumed tying up the attackers.
“Nicely done,” I said.
“Thank you.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed the local police department. As soon as they picked up I played a pre-recorded message on my laptop, holding the phone up to the speaker. A message translated from English into Urdu which explained that the bank had been broken into.
Gregor came climbing up the fire escape to the roof when I finished the message and hung up the phone. “Everything inside go smooth?” he asked.
“Had to shoot one,” Michael said.
“Did he live?”
Michael snorted. “What kind of a question is that? Of course he’ll live.”
We may have been hired by the bank manager to help protect him from the terrorists, but other international governments were involved with the contract. The Indian government, for example, wanted the terrorists captured alive and turned over to Pakistani police. This would allow India to put more pressure on Pakistan regarding their lax border enforcement on the west with Afghanistan. Handing over all four to the police meant a bigger payday.
“Anything useful in their van?” I asked.
Gregor shrugged. “Not anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The explosion shook the building underneath our feet and made my ear drums ache. Below, the van was a flaming ball of fire sending long shadows across the street.
Michael rounded on his teammate. “What was that for!”
“I was bored,” Gregor said, lighting up a cigar.
“Bored!”
He shrugged. “The local police might have allowed the terrorists to slip away with a bribe or two without anyone noticing. But this?” He waved his cigar at the smoldering wreckage below. “This’ll draw attention from the national investigators. No bribes will get those fucks out of this.”
“A little warning would be nice,” I said.
Gregor grinned his boyish grin at me, then took me in his arms. “Now where’s the fun in that, kiddo?”
“Careful your cigar doesn’t light my hair on fire,” I said.
“I’m always careful.” He kissed me hard, his mouth tasting like rich cigar smoke with caramel undertones. I pushed my tongue into his mouth and kissed him back even harder.
“You two should focus,” Michael said while disassembling his rifle. “It is dangerous to fool around on a mission.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. He blushed.
“You guys having a barbecue out there?” Donovan demanded. “Or can we get the hell out of dodge?”
We packed up our gear and retreated from the roof, then fled four blocks to the east where we met up with Donovan. He fell in step with us.
“Nice shot,” he said as a greeting. Police sirens wailed somewhere behind us.
“I would not have needed to shoot if you were more careful,” Michael scolded.
“Hey. I did the best I could.”
“Give him a break,” Gregor said, smacking Michael on the chest with the back of his hand. “Next time let them blow Donny away. Better that than risking our payday.”
“Hey!” Donovan said.
We reached the car we’d stashed in an alley and then drove east out of the city to the private airfield. The Gulfstream G200 was waiting for us like it was supposed to, light shining out of its windows.
The pilot wasn’t in the cockpit. Rather, when I stepped onto the plane I found him reclined in one of the passenger seats, legs kicked up with his shoes off and a laptop propped up playing an episode of Duck Dynasty.
“Oh, shit balls,” Ernest said as he scrambled to his feet. “Y’all didn’t give me a warnin’ or nothin’?”
“You were told to be ready to go,” Michael scolded.
“Yeah but the thing is, y’all said that last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, so ol' Ernesto got sick of sitting around with his dick in his hands, know what I mean?”
“Get your shoes on,” Donovan told him. “We’re leaving.”
“Okay, okay, no need to get pushy about it! I’ll have her soarin’ in no time.” He pulled his shoes over his feet.
Donovan pointed to an open champagne bottle on the floor by his shoes. “What’s that?”
“Oh, that? Well, you see, I was securin’ the cargo, and I tripped and the cork flew out all on her own, and, well…” Ernest spread his hands wide. “Y’all know how it is.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. In all the missions Ernest had flown for us around the world, he’d always managed to get a good buzz on before we flew. So far it hadn’t steered us wrong.
Michael picked up the champagne bottle and held it up to the light. “I was saving this.”
“Y’all completed the mission, right?” Ernest said. “Sounds like celebratin’ time to me! You wanna top me off amigo?” He held his glass out to Michael, who glared at him until he finally said, “Okay, I get it, geez, relax hombre. I’ll get us airborne.”
While the engines hummed to life and the others stowed away the gear, I called Daniella back. “Hey, it’s me again. Everything okay?”
“You were right, Mrs. Ellersby,” she said. “Cali is totes happy watching cartoons. I was worrying for nothing.”
“She’ll stay that way all afternoon as long as you don’t forget the 3:00pm snack,” I warned. “She’ll let you know if you forget, believe me. Oh, and we’ll be home tomorrow.” I looked at my watch, tried to do the mental math of flight times and timezones, then gave up. “Sometime tomorrow. Before dinner probably.”
“No sweat Mrs. Ellersby, I’ll be here with sweet little Cali!” She switched to baby talk. “Won’t I? That’s right I will. We’re having so much fun together, aren’t we Cali?”
“Call me if you need anything,” I said and hung up.
Donovan arched an eyebrow at me. “Same thing?”
“You know Daniella. Every cough is potentially the plague.”
“We should replace her,” Michael grumbled.
“She means well,” Donovan said as he stripped his jacket. He was wearing a tight t-shirt underneath which strained against his muscles. “And she lives next door.”
“That’s what I said.”
The sound of a champagne cork popping came from the cockpit. “Son of a bitch, Ernest! Get us in the air!” Michael strode into the cockpit, and the sound of Ernest yelping and protesting followed.
We were airborne and flying home ten minutes later. Ernest’s new private jet, although a huge upgrade over Dorothy, would need to refuel several times for the journey: Istanbul, London, and New York before finally landing in Richmond. All in all the trip would take about 24 hours total. But flying on your own private jet was way better than flying first class on a commercial airline. And not just because we could drink our own booze, especially if our pilot had “accidentally” opened some.
We drank the rest of the champagne while Donovan uploaded the mission data to the mercenary contracting website. The rest of us took turns showering at the back of the plane and then reheating burritos in the little microwave on board. We’d get some fresh food delivered to us during our fueling stops, but for now a microwaved burrito tasted like heaven.
“Michael was frisky during our mission,” I announced when all of us were together. Michael sputtered and almost choked on his drink.
“You tempted me!” he said. “You are a terrible succubus, pulling me astray.”
“It wasn’t hard,” I said. “Well, it was hard.”
“That’s awful Michael,” Gregor lectured, mimicking the Israeli’s accent. “It is dangerous to fool around on a mission.”
Donovan rose from his seat and wrapped his muscular arms around me. “I don’t blame you, Michael. All Jules has to do is breathe on me and I’m hers.”
“Is that so?” I pursed my lips and blew on his face gently. The lust in his eyes deepened. More than the others, Donovan was always horny after a mission. Especially when he was the one in danger. I loved the way he took me hard and fast. Like he’d been reminded that life was short and we needed to enjoy it while we could.
“Know what I want to do to you?” he said.
“I have an idea.”
“You know Ernest has camera feeds in the cockpit, right?” Gregor said.
I grinned at him and pulled out my phone. “Which is why I set up a trojan horse to access them from my phone.”
I clicked the app and pressed a few buttons. The sound of Ernest yelling, “Oh come on!” could be heard through the cockpit door.
“I’ve also locked the cockpit remotely,” I said, tossing my phone aside. “We’ve got the cabin all to ourselves.”
“What if he’s gotta piss?” Gregor asked with a laugh.
“He should’ve thought of that before drinking half our champagne.” I turned my eyes back to Donovan. “Well? What do you want to do to me?”
He pulled something out of his back pocket. A strip of cloth. Before I realized what was happening he wrapped it around my eyes and tied it in the back. Everything was dark except for a tiny strip of light.
“You’ve been kidnapped by terrorists,” Donovan said in a really bad accent. “You’re ours now. To do with as we please.”
I giggled. “You sound like Hans Gruber from Die Hard.”
I gasped as he grabbed me forcefully and threw me down onto the bed at the back of the plane, flat on my belly. One set of hands held me down while another removed my pants, practically ripping them off my legs. Then I felt a zip tie circle my ankle and then attach to the edge of the bed. My other leg was pulled wide to attach to the other side of the bed, leaving me spread eagle in my panties.
We’d done some forceful role-playing before, but this was new. Within seconds I was wet and excited to see what would happen next.
For a long time nothing happened. I could hear them moving around the plane, silent and busy. My anticipation grew steadily with every second.
Finally a hand grabbed my panties and ripped them aside, tearing them off my body. The cool air hit my exposed sex and an involuntary shiver ran up my spine. I felt someone approaching behind me, lingering just on the edge of touch. With my eyesight gone I imagined I could feel the warmth coming off his body. Which of them was it?
“You are our prisoner tonight,” Michael announced. “You have no say in what happens.”
“Oh please,” I said, throwing myself into the act. “Do whatever you want, just let me live.”
“Maybe,” Gregor chuckled. “If we decide you’re good enough.”
The cock wedged itself into my pussy lips and forced its way in without introduction. I cried out at the sudden unexpected sensation. Some of the best pleasure held a tinge of pain, and this was just the right amount to make me shudder and moan. Like the right kind of spicy food, burning your mouth but not too much.
The unknown man grabbed my hips and pounded me like I was his fuck toy. It was either Donovan or Gregor, judging from the size. Michael’s girth was instantly recognizable. Spread eagle on the bed there was nothing I could do but take his forceful lovemaking. I was nothing more than an accessory to his pleasure.
And it drove me wild with lust.
“Fuck me,” I said. Then, with more begging: “Please, please fuck me. I’m your little hostage whore.”
“Yeah you are,” Donovan groaned behind me. Without warning he pulled out and then pressed his bulbous head against my asshole. Demanding entry.
I surrendered to it. I wanted it, both for my own pleasure and because I knew it was Donovan’s favorite thing. But just as my tight behind began to relax, and his head pushed inside, he abruptly pulled back.
Nothing happened.
“You wanted that cock in your ass, didn’t you?” he growled.
“Yes, oh yes I did, I want it so bad.”
“Don’t give her what she wants,” Gregor said. “That’s not what we’re playing today.”
The three of them laughed while I lay there, spread wide and exposed. My loins ached for more, for one of them to take me again however they saw fit. I wanted to beg some more, to plead with them to take me one at a time or all together. But I knew that would only delay things as they teased me out.
A sudden, hot sensation touched my lower back. I winced and realized it wasn’t hot—it was ice cold. Literally: it was a piece of ice being dragged across my back, swirling this way and that, leaving a cool wet trail. I trembled as it reached my spine and then went south, bumping over every vertebrae along the way. Finally it found its way to the small of my back and then between my cheeks. The ice circled my tight rosebud, numbing the skin and getting me wet with the cool melted water. It pressed against the hole, going in and out a mere inch. I shivered with new pleasure as the unknown lover of mine fucked me with the ice until it wore down to a little shard.
The ice disappeared and then was replaced by something hot and warm and throbbing. The cock fucked my asshole as deep as it could go in one stroke, balls pressed hard against my pussy lips, making me cry out as it filled me. I expected it to do more but then it pulled all the way out. I felt my asshole gape wide for a moment before closing back tight.
It pushed back inside—but this time it was a different cock. Gregor’s, I think. It did the same thing, one long shuddering stroke, in and out again before moving away.
The next cock, Michael’s, took my pussy—there was still no way I could take his girth in my ass. But he did the same thing as his brethren, grabbing my legs and fucking me in one long deep stroke, before pulling out.
They alternated like this, one stroke each, for ages. A guy could last a long time when he fucked you with just one stroke at a time. Each one felt better than the last, building the intensity and anticipation, keeping me back from what I wanted. It was torture being kept right on the edge like that. I wanted to beg them to fuck me, to remain inside and go to town and then come all over my ass.
