CHAPTER 4
“She wants to come,” Eveque’s woman said to him. “She’s been locked up for all these years and seems ready to live. I think that’s good?”
Spook felt Eveque’s eyes on him “What you think?”
He shrugged, not wanting that job. “Not my call.”
“But if it was?”
He lowered his head, sure it was a bad idea but for reasons he wouldn’t name. “She’s a grown woman, I think she should be able to do whatever she wants. She’s safe with us. I can keep an eye on her.”
“We have the meeting,” he reminded him.
“I’m sure we can find somebody to look out for her during that.”
Sahvrin nodded. “Sure you’re right.” He looked at Beth. “Get her.”
Eveque stifled a grunt when his woman launched a hug attack with a kiss on the cheek before running down the pier before he could go with her.
“Very strange thing to see,” Spook said, putting his black hat on and slipping his shotgun strap on his shoulder.
“What, me with an angel?”
“You with a woman.”
“She’s not a woman, she’s an angel.”
“She sure must be,” he chuckled, walking past Eveque.
“You gonna be okay handling Maggie?”
He tapped his pipe on his hand. “Yeah. Pretty sure we have an understanding now.” He wanted to crack a joke about her chemical balancing exercises, but he was still in the process of erasing the whole thing from his mind. His usual mental scrubbing techniques were proving to be the only thing funny about it. All his brain wanted to do was return to the scene of the crime and confirm fifty times that her body was as perfect as her face.
They waited on the porch swing for Beth and Maggie, and Spook knew all that was in the silence between them. Everything they didn’t want to talk about but couldn’t stop thinking about. “What you have in mind for The Gauntlet training for your woman?”
Eveque put both hands behind his head. “Lots of crash courses. I’m gonna try to buy us two weeks before the shipment still.”
“That’s better than one.”
“You think it’s time to do anything useful?”
“Definitely. They can learn skills and practice them daily. Other than teaching how to survive long enough not to die, I need to sharpen senses and observational skills.”
“I gave her a week to decide if she wants the position as my right hand.”
“Was wondering about that.”
“So am I.”
Spook angled his head at hearing his tone. “She’s safer if you make her Belle Eveque.”
“She can be Belle Eveque from home just as good.”
He nodded, getting it. “She could.” He glanced at him. “Would she?”
He scoffed with a headshake. “She’s too stubborn to make do with helping from home.”
“She can be a great asset.”
“Or distraction.”
Spook understood completely. “And she’d be at greater risk.”
“Exactly.”
He could feel it in between the words he spoke. “You have a plan?”
“You fucking know I do.”
Spook was a little surprised to hear desperation under the anger and yet had an inkling of what that might be like. “She’ll be safer if she’s trained.”
“I’ll train her but that doesn’t mean she has to pass The Gauntlet and be a part of the blood bath coming. She’s my wife, the mother of my future kids.”
“And you’re her husband and the father of her future kids.”
“And one of us at risk is enough.”
“But… two of you is also stronger.”
He eyed him now. “I guess that means you won’t help me.”
Spook eyed him with a chuckle. “My Eveque is stuck with my loyalty till I leave this earth. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll see to it.”
“I’ve got a couple ideas but need two days to nail a plan down. You can think with me till then?”
“First thing that comes to mind is her geospatial skills being really needed in 8-Bit’s remote hideout to help with oversight operations.”
Eveque stared at him for many seconds, head shaking. “Mon Dieu, you’re a fucking genius.”
“That’s if she doesn’t feel more needed elsewhere,” Spook said, opening the likelihood of shit going sideways. If she was anything like Maggie, those odds were high.
The sound of Maggie’s excited laughter caused Spook to need to stand, telling him how far she’d got under his skin with those bizarre altercations.
Eveque stood too and Spook made his way off the porch, not wanting to make it obvious he was avoiding Maggie. He intended to keep plenty of physical distance between them. Talk when necessary. He was kind of glad she didn’t talk, it made it easier for now.
He turned his attention to the night and everything lurking in it as he made his way down the pier, keeping ten feet between them.
He heard feet running up and glanced down right as Maggie linked her arms in his.
“No,” he said, pulling out of her hold. “No touching,” he reminded her.
She gave an indifferent hmm, that sounded like fine and put her hands behind her, keeping pace next to him.
She had a tablet with her. Good. “Do you know how to whistle?”
She shook her head in his peripheral sight.
“I’ll teach you. We can use it for communicating.”
She wrote and handed him the tablet. You like talking to me?
He handed it back. “I like training you how to survive.”
She wrote and handed it back and he resisted a sigh. He took it. I like talking to you.
What the hell. “That’s nice.”
At the boat, Maggie sat at the very front and he sat in the seat before it, feeling like she was the type to fall out while going forty mph.
But now he had to see the virgin white dress she wore. At least the flowing material covered everything but her creamy white chest with the one mole that called to his obsessive study habits.
The short side of her hair faced away from him, and the long side had a braid that reached her waist. Why would she do that to her hair? Like she was trying to be two different people in the same body.
“Can you swim?” he asked her.
She nodded a lot with a smile as if happy to know something he asked.
“Good, one less thing I have to teach you.”
She wrote on the tablet as they got going and handed it to him. He looked at her and took the tablet, setting it behind him. He pointed to his mouth, then her. “Words,” he said. “I want you to use them when you talk to me.”
She stared back at him and barely shook her head.
He leaned toward her and called her to come closer. When she did, he put his mouth near her ear and whispered, “You know words. You have a voice. You don’t have to say it loud. You can say it as quiet as you want. But when you say it to me, say it with words.”
He pulled back and she kept her gaze lowered as she reached up and touched her ear, her glance flicking his way.
He leaned over again, and she eyed his mouth before moving her ear in. “Can you whisper? Like the wind?” He blew softly and she jerked back, touching her ear again.
He angled his head, presenting his ear, pointing to her then to his ear. He waited with his eyes closed then finally felt her erratic breath. He nodded, tapping his ear and she blew softly like he’d done. He slowly opened his eyes, angling a look at her as she stared with a worried expression. He touched his mouth, getting her to look at it. “Perfect,” he said without sound.
She reached out and touched his mouth and he took soft hold of her hand and shook his head. He pointed to his lips and mouthed, “No touching.”
Her gaze rose to his, curious and hungry as she touched her fingers to her lips before lowering her gaze seeming in deep thought.
He touched her knee, putting his ear toward her, touching it, and calling her to it with a finger. He closed his eyes again, nodding a little as he waited. Again he felt her breaths near. This time when she blew, there was a light hum in it. He looked at her giving her a smile and a nod before leaning his mouth. She gave her ear to him, and he made the sound of a gentle breeze with a low whistle with it.
She pulled back with a smile, touching his mouth and he again gently moved her hand and shook his head. She pulled it back, her smile fading only a little as she processed whatever was in that head of hers.
The rest of the ride there, she faced the passing swamp, making her wind sounds with hums while Spook studied her. Half his brain formulated communication plans for her, while the other battled those fiery visions that kept returning to his brain. Even with that, he couldn”t stop watching her. His mind set its hooks deep and there was nothing he could do to fight it. Once it got what it wanted and needed, it would rest. He knew better than to deny it.
He”d get her to mouth words first. Would be good observational practice. Then he”d get her whispering. He didn”t care if she never spoke words to another soul, he just needed her communicating with him so he could teach her everything she needed to know as quickly as possible.
As they pulled up at the main house, Spook touched Maggie’s knee again and leaned to her ear. “There will be a lot of people here. Stay close to me. You understand?”
He pulled back, looking in her face until she acknowledged with a nod.
He hopped onto the pier and gave her his hand. She grabbed hold with both hers and he let her work out the logistics of climbing onto the pier.
“You can do it,” he said when she tried twice. “Take your time.”
She finally realized holding him with both hands restricted her balance and leverage and used one instead. When she made it, she jumped up and down with claps then hugged him. She quickly let go, remembering the no touching but the brief three seconds told him one thing he really didn’t want to know. She had no fucking bra on. Now he’d never unfeel her nipples against his chest and his brain would fucking kill him about it. It had to find light and see if her breasts showed through the material immediately and then it would need to relive the moment he’d felt it until Spook scrubbed it from his brain. That wasn’t happening soon enough.
As they approached the main house, the noise grew and the second they rounded the corner with the first crowd, Maggie grabbed his hand. He looked down at her and the fear in her eyes brought his fingers tightly around hers. He leaned to her ear. “They’re all family,” he said, pulling her closer to him as they weaved in and out of the growing crowd.
Her sister looked back in concern again. “I got her,” he assured.
Spook tugged Maggie along, trying to keep his eye on Eveque. Maggie tugged his hand and he looked down at her. The distressed look brought his mouth to her ear. “What’s wrong?”
He moved his ear to her mouth and got a lot of hot air and half mm’s that sounded a lot like the noises she’d made during her chemical balancing exercise. He straightened, trying to understand. “What?” he mouthed.
She pressed her lips together, her brows furrowed before slowly mouthing the word bathroom.
He gave her a full grin that she’d mouthed her first word and she tugged his hand again, nodding. He made his way to the main house, deliberately not looking at anybody to avoid conversation for as long as he could. Once inside, he found the lower bathroom had a line of people and pulled her up the stairs to the one on the second floor, finding it empty.
He showed her in and turned the lock on the inside of the door and shut it then stood guard nearby, pulling out his phone and texting Eveque. Maggie needed the bathroom. In the main house, second floor. Where are you?
He put the phone in his pocket and eyed the woman stumbling up the stairs. Holy fuck, Katrina. He’d forgotten she was there. He pretended to study one of Eveque’s paintings on the wall behind him when she paused at his side, angling her head. “Are you…oneofthetwelve?” she slurred. He looked at her, and she sucked in a breath pointing at him. “You’re…the Sneaky sonofabitch,” she remembered, with a half grin before narrowing her gaze. “You’re the one that ratted me out.”
“You’re drunk,” he said, silently willing his Eveque’s ex-slut to quietly find the stairs with her face before Maggie came out.
“I am,” she assured, nodding, eying him up and down. “You still don’t fuck?”
She reached for his groin, and he snatched her wrist up, spinning her drunk ass around right as the bathroom door opened.
“Ohhhhh, is this your date?” she cried, sucking in a huge breath.
Spook released her, not liking the confused, worried look on Maggie’s face.
“Are you fucking him?” she asked, stumbling toward her as Maggie moved in a wide arc around her toward him.
“Shhh, shh, you don’t need to keep it a secret from me,” Katrina hissed as Spook grabbed Maggie’s hand and escorted her away from her drunk snickers. Halfway down the stairs, Maggie yanked her hand out of his and he glared at her for a split second before leading her out.
Just what he fucking needed. A pissed Maggie at a party full of horny drunks.
Finally outside, his phone buzzed, and he turned to her. “Don’t move,” he ordered, opening Eveque’s message.
At the Basilique. The rest are here, just waiting for you.
He glanced at a distracted Maggie, straining to see all around her as he texted. What about Maggie? You find anybody to stay with her? Ran into fucking drunk, mouthy Katrina and now Maggie’s acting weird.
I’m waiting for Mah-Mah to get Juliette to come keep an eye on her. She’s MIA with Beaux.
Spook glanced toward Maggie, finding her not there. He scanned the crowd, looking all around. “Maggie,” he yelled. Gotta be fucking kidding me.
He called Eveque as he quickly moved to the perimeter of the crowd in case she’d headed away from it.
“I can’t find Maggie.”
“What?”
“She was right fucking there and then she wasn’t. Start without me, I have to find her.”
“We’ll wait. Call me when you do.”
He hung up and again scouted the worst-case scenario on the outer perimeter. Her getting lost in a crowd was one thing but getting lost in the swamps was deadly for her. He made his way back to the spot he’d lost her, looking around again.
He turned at hearing yelling and laughter and followed the sound toward the live band. He pushed his way through the people crowding the dance area, spotting Maggie’s white dress at the front of the stage. Dancing.
Fucking great. He pulled his phone out. Found her. She’s dancing at the band. You find Juliette?
He put his phone in his pocket as Zep jumped off the stage and pulled her into his arms. Spook shoved his way through the crowd as his he went in for a kiss. He barely remembered blood relations as he shoved him away from her. “You even know who this is?”
Adrenalin hammered with the need to lay the slut brother out.
“Well if it isn’t ole Spooky, spook.”
He grabbed Maggie’s hand and pulled her with him.
She yanked on his arm and he turned, finding Zep pulling her in the other direction.
Spook stepped in his face. “Eveque wants her with her sister.”
“I don’t give a fuck what Eve—”
Spook slammed his elbow into his face and pulled Maggie through the bodies. Once in a clearing, she fought to get out of his hold and he held tighter, forcing her to keep up with his pissed pace.
When they were out of the chaos, she stumbled and he barely kept her from face planting. “Are you drunk?” he realized. “Holy shit, how the fuck are you drunk?” he cried half to himself.
She pointed behind her with hmmm’s.
“Words.” He straightened her and held her face. “Use words. Who gave you alcohol?”
She pointed, her eyes barely staying open and mouthed something.
“Man?”
She nodded.
“The one who tried to kiss you?”
She nodded again and smiled then pushed him, the momentum knocking her off balance.
He held on to her. “You’re pissed at me?”
She nodded a lot.
“Why? I didn’t do anything to you.”
She jabbed her pointer finger against his chest and looked up at him hardly able to keep her eyes open. “Hmm—”
“Stop humming at me,” he said, putting his ear next to her mouth. “Tell me.”
“Wwwww” she said around a lot of hot air. “Wwwwwoman.”
It was barely a drunk whisper, but it counted and he was sorry he couldn”t celebrate it with her. “That woman? That woman was drunk like you and being a putan, a slut. She tried to touch me, and I stopped her.”
Her mouth opened as she blinked at him in anger and confusion.
“You’re not a slut,” he said, realizing what he’d said. “I meant she was trying to touch me like you do, and I turned her so she couldn’t. That’s all.”
She kept her angry blinking gaze on him then leaned in with a moan.
“You’re sick?”
She nodded and he moved aside right as she vomited next to him.
“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” he muttered, holding her hair back with his hand on her forehead to keep her from falling over. “Have you ever had alcohol before?”
Her head shook a little as she hurled again.
He looked around, feeling his phone buzzing in his pocket.
She finally straightened and leaned into him again, hardly able to stand. He wasn’t going to fucking drag her. “I’m carrying you,” he announced, lifting her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, stroking his face with erratic hand flops. She gave a soft moan as she sank her fingers in his beard, barely scratching his face.
“Stop,” he said, moving his mouth away when her curious fingers found his lips.
“Mmmm,” she murmured, moving that same hand around his neck, and stroking there now.
Fucking agonizing inquisitive touch. It could be payment for all the sins he’d committed in his life. Past and especially future.
He stopped at one of the random benches on the path to Basilique, setting her down and sitting next to her like a wall. He pulled his phone out.
Just bring her here with you.
”Already planned it,” he muttered, texting him that.
She gave a moan and collapsed into his lap. The short-haired side of her head faced him, and he stared at her bothersome perfection. He moved the strands of dark hair out of his way, to revisit the problem. Maybe the issue was his observation skills. He settled his hand on her shoulder and she reached up and put her hand over his then moved it to her face, inviting him to touch.
“No touching,” he said quietly, moving his hand back to her shoulder.
She put her hand on his now, her fingers moving randomly along it. He really wanted to let her just to figure out what and why she did it. As odd as she was, it could be many things non-sexual.
“Can you walk?” he asked, standing next to her in case she fell over.
She stood and nodded, swaying like a tree in the wind, only there was no wind.
“Hold my hand?” He took her hand without waiting and led her. “So you don’t fall,” he said, not wanting her to make a habit in her head about it.
She tugged his hand and he looked back. “What?”
She mouthed something and he stopped.
“Say it again?”
She moved her mouth slowly with exaggerated shapes, making it harder to read.
“Bathroom?”
She nodded, jerkily.
“There’s one at the Basilique. It’s right ahead.”
Eveque’s woman ran at seeing them coming. “Is she okay? How did she get drunk?” she gasped.
“Good question. I turned for two seconds, and she’s gone. I spent fifteen minutes searching all the deadly places she could have gone before finding her at the live band, dancing. And drunk. And I busted Zep’s nose,” he informed Eveque when he reached them.
“What the fuck he do now?”
“He said your name crooked.”
“He’s got more of that coming,” he muttered, clapping his hand on Spook’s back.
Good. He fucking needed a whole lot more.
“Everybody is here,” Eveque said as they made their way to the entrance of the tall white church-hall.
“She’ll sit with me,” Spook said. “I’m not letting her out of my sight if it’s okay with you.”
“It’s fine,” Eveque said.
“She can sit with me,” Beth offered.
He eyed her, biting his tongue on the instant no realizing it was a logical suggestion. “You want to sit with Beth?” he asked her, getting a headshake before she leaned her head against him. It was a dirty move, but he’d expected exactly that answer from her. He wasn’t sure why she needed to be with him, he was just glad she did since she was so unpredictable. She was given to him to watch, and he could do that a lot better with her six inches from him.
“So the whole meeting has to be in French?”
Eveque’s woman asked as they entered.
“Yes, Ma Petite, but I will interpret.”
“You don’t have to unless you think I need to know,” she said. “I’m not technically Belle Eveque yet as you said. What am I again?”
“Propriétaire De Mon Coeur.”
“And that means…”
“You forget? How can you forget this?”
Spook grinned at hearing Eveque tease his woman.
“I remember I’m the owner of something,” she whispered. “Oh, duh, your heart! Wow, that’s a round table. And now they’re all standing. Should I bow or anything?”
“No, Angel, you don’t bow. And standing is basic protocol,” his Eveque whispered as Spook made his way to his seat with Maggie only to realize there was just one.
He glanced around and spotted a chair on the far wall and sat her at his chair, putting his mouth to her ear. “I’m getting another chair. Wait here.”
He made his way to the far end of the room, and got the chair, almost knocking Maggie over when he turned. “Pour le mour de Dieu,” he muttered, raising his brows at her worried look.
He headed back, not needing to see she followed and set the chair next to his all while Eveque explained who she was and what the hell he was doing to the curious eyes he felt all over them.
He put Maggie in his chair and sat in the smaller one only to have her try and move onto his lap.
“What a beautiful, devoted pet,” Nitro said, amused.
“Looks like you’ve trained her well,” Hurricane chuckled.
“A little too well,” Lesion added.
Spook barely shook his head, glad they were speaking French as he set her in the smaller chair and took his usual seat.
He put his hand on her shoulder when she tried to get up again. “Maggie,” he muttered, hoping the warning in his tone made some difference while Eveque introduced his woman.
Maggie grabbed his hand, the urgency in her grip telling him she might have a Maggie scene if he didn’t allow it. He slid his thumb repeatedly over her hand when her grip never loosened, and he realized she was terrified.
“She has one week to make her final decision,” Eveque said. “If she chooses to serve with me, she will go through The Gauntlet.”
“A woman?” Traps wondered as murmurs broke out, all equally as curious.
Shank slapped the table with a laugh. “Does this mean we’re voting out the celibacy code?”
“Don’t you wish you horny bastard,” Bullets said, with his rolling thunder laugh.
“The celibacy rule remains,” Eveque said, and Spook wondered if he’d heard a for now in the back of his tone.
“How’s a woman gonna pass The Gauntlet?” Patches wondered.
“The same way you did,” Bacon said, grinning at him.
“Shut up and serve me boudin balls,” Patches said.
“Where you want it?” Bacon asked with mirth in his mischievous brown eyes, grabbing himself under the table.
“She’ll have to show us how,” he said, glancing at her with a wink. “Allow me to introduce you to The Twelve, Propriétaire De Mon Coeur. From my right,” Eveque began. “Shank, leader of our Blades Hatch. Bullets, leader of our Firearms Hatch. Nitro is leader of our Explosives Hatch. Traps is leader of the Traps Hatch. Lesion is head of the Chemical Hatch and Spook is leader of Tracking and Survival. Then Bacon is chief of Provisions Hatch, and Patches, his best friend, is our Medical Hatch extraordinaire. Then we have Hurricane, head of the Demolitions Hatch, 8-Bit is leader of the Tech Hatch, and Spar is the Hand Combat Hatch commander. And I am known as The Maker.” His woman leaned and spoke, bringing his laugh. The sound and sight of it loosened something in Spook that he realized had been there for years. “The owner of my heart says I am The Maker of trouble. She is still angry that I required her to take a week to make her decision. She says it’s purgatory.”
The table erupted in laughter before Eveque said, “So moving on to business. We have enough evidence to know the Roulettes are trafficking in our swamps. They will face the Auditors for their crimes and to get them here, I’m going to start a war.”
The men cheered, and Eveque leaned to his woman who said something in his ear. He spoke back to her, putting a look of fear on her face.
“What’s your plan?” Bullets asked when things settled down.
“We’ll enter a deal with the devil to move illegal guns through our waterways. I’ve already set up a Ba-tie with the Prez of New Orleans Roulettes. Fifty of ours against fifty of his on our land turf. No weapons allowed. Teeth and knuckles to the death.” Eveque shook his head. “But we will not kill with intention a single soul in the Ba-tie. We will drag them to the Weigh Station to face the Auditor’s.
“I’ll buy us two weeks to prepare for the arms movement. We’ll get them to a secure location, and during the Ba-tie, we’ll have Hatches relocate them to another site. They’ll give us their guilty or never see those guns again.”
“I have thirty men in my Hatch fit for the Ba-tie,” Hurricane said.
“I have seventy-five,” Spar said.
“With or without blades,” Shank said, “I have fifteen.”
Eveque nodded. “We’ll pick the best from each. The Twelve will lead and my Blood will select a couple dozen more men for logistics and security. All The Hatchmen will be near and ready for 8-Bit’s direction. We’ll have the battle plans drawn and ready.” He looked at 8-Bit. “I need tracking for Beth and her sister. Something they can’t lose easily and can always wear. Each of you will make assessments and let me know personally what you will need. Every possible weak link needs to be fortified or cut off. We won’t know how long this will last so we’ll plan for the worst and pray for the best.” He looked around the table. “We understand?”
“Aye,” they all said together.
Eveque stood, regarding all of them. “Are we ready to bring these demons down?”
They all stood with a shouted “Aye!” and slammed their right fists on the table.
They sat again and Spook noticed Hurricane eyeing Maggie again. They all did, but he seemed to have a hard time being discreet. He caught Spook watching him and grinned. “If you get tired of babysitting, be sure and call me, I’d be happy to take over.”
Spook ignored him, wondering if they were done.
“I think he may be as attached as she is,” Lesion said.
“I can see why,” Hurricane muttered back. “She’s like a—”
“Say one more word about her and I’ll break your dick off,” Spook said, just loud enough for his ears. And apparently everybody else’s.
Maggie’s thumbs rubbed the top of his hand hard enough to give him a brush burn as all eyes burned on him. He stroked her hand back, wondering what was wrong. Fuck, she’d needed the bathroom. He leaned to her ear. “Bathroom?”
She nodded quickly and he stood, leading her to the side of the room. Entering the small hall, he opened the door, making sure it was empty. “You should have said something,” he scolded lightly.
While he waited, he listened to Eveque talk about equipment and supplies while the men chattered amongst themselves. Maggie came out and eyed him, the look on her face making him tense. “What’s wrong?”
She backed up to the wall and stood with her head lowered and he leaned his ear near her mouth. “Tell me.”
She very slowly whispered, “Say one…more…word…about her. And…I will…break—”
“Holy shit,” he whispered, angling his head to look at her. “You know French.” The sudden feel of her warm breath on his mouth held him still. She nodded and he slowly straightened, staring into her face now aimed up at him.
She mouthed, “Thank…you.”
“Thank me,” he said, distracted with her perfect mouth. “For what?”
“For…protecting…” She added sign language, moving her hand over her chest, drawing his eyes to her breasts. His brain remembered she didn’t have a bra and made out the perfect shape of hard nipples. The idea they’d all seen them had him fucking pissed. But not as much as going back in there with her did.
He took her hand and pulled her toward the back of the church and left out the rear door. At the first bench he came to, he sat with her and pulled his phone out, texting Eveque. Carry on without me. Two startling facts. Maggie knows French and she has no bra on. Pretty sure killing one of The Twelve isn’t the most productive end to a meeting.
He waited for his return text as Maggie lay her head against his shoulder. She was no doubt exhausted and still half drunk.
He texted Eveque again. I should take her back so she can go to bed. He looked down at her head. “You ready for bed?”
She gave a small nod.
“I’ll bring you back home.”
The phone buzzed and he looked. Good idea. Take the boat, we’ll meet you there later. She okay?
He texted, She’s tired. And half-drunk still. See you when you get back.
“Let’s go, Maggie.” He stood and gave her his hand and she took it, rubbing it against her face before standing.
Not wanting to see the look she wore, he led her to the landing where the boat waited.
The ride back, Maggie fell asleep with her head in his lap. He was glad it wasn’t far. The air was chilly, and he kept rubbing her arm, warming it. He woke her up and she sat up, looking around then at him, giving a light moan, and laying her head on his shoulder.
“Come on,” he said, helping her stand. He climbed out the boat and reached down and hoisted her onto the pier, not making her work. She stumbled a little and he lifted her in his arms and carried her, keeping his senses sharp. Cougars weren’t known to attack unless provoked but he sure as hell wasn’t taking chances on being an exception.
He opened the door and checked the house before bringing her to her bed and laying her in it. He moved the pillow and heat slammed his balls at seeing her chemical balancing tool.
She sat up then got on her knees, pulling his ear to her mouth. “Stay…with…me,” she barely whispered carefully.
“I’ll be in the living room. On the couch.”
She slowly sat back down on the bed, her hand encountering the silver toy. She picked it up and held it up before him, nodding with raised brows.
Fuck, did he really want to know what she was trying to say? He nodded back, not sure what he was agreeing to.
She handed it to him, and he shook his head.
She turned the top of it and shook it then mouthed something.
“You don’t need to do that.”
She narrowed her brows and nodded, holding it before him, turning the top like he wasn’t understanding.
“Just go to sleep, Maggie, you don’t need to do that tonight.”
She gave agitated hmmm’s shaking her head like not doing it violated some ancient code.
“Fine, do it. I’ll be in the living room. Just be quiet.”
“Hmmm,” she said, pushing the tool toward him.
Fuck, was it broken? He took it and turned what she had. “I don’t have batteries here.” He unscrewed the top, his cock getting painful in his pants when he picked up the smell of her on it. He dropped out the batteries. Your flashlight has C, said his conveniently helpful brain.
“I’ll get some batteries.” He handed it back to her, needing air.
In the small shack he found his flashlight and carried it back to the room wondering how he’d survive knowing she was doing that. And if she made those sounds while she did, he’d fucking need to kill something.
Back in the room, he opened the flashlight and took out the batteries then put them in her tool, checking it worked before handing it to her. She smiled like he’d fixed her hair dryer, not her dildo, mouthing thankyou.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered, leaving the room and shutting the door.
He went on the couch and lay there, tempted to go on the porch. But then he might not hear and his brain would crucify him for not getting the information.
It didn’t take long for the show to begin. He lay there, his mind locked onto every delicate sound as he imagined what she looked like. She’d been under the covers last time. Did she always do that? He pushed his hips, forcing his cock against his jeans, breathing through the heat roiling in him as her mmm mmm mmm’s began to strain, harder. The pattern of sound changed, not progressing but growing less. She finally gave a small growl, and something banged against the wall shooting him off the couch.
“What happened?” he called just outside her room.
The door jerked open, and she shook her head, pointing at the wall. He looked and saw the tool on the floor as she paced before him, huffing and winded.
“Is it broken?” he wondered, his eyes needing to see if her tits were safely hidden.
She shook her head then started doing sign language.
“Words,” he reminded her.
She stopped and faced him with hands on her hips and his gaze auto-checked her breasts, finding them not safely hidden at all. The light in the room outlined their perfect, delicate shapes.
She shot out a hard “C” sound with a stomp and his gaze flew up to her face. “I…can’t,” she mouthed.
“You can’t what?”
“Orrrrgaaaasm,” she mouthed very slowly.
“Pour le mour de Dieu,” he barely muttered, closing his eyes. He was standing in a room with the most beautiful woman in the fucking world discussing her problem with orgasming. He could fucking sympathize.
“Then do it later,” he suggested, getting another head shake.
“You do this… exercise every day?”
She gave a serious positive nod, dumbfounding him.
“And…do you always use that…tool?”
She again nodded.
“Have you had trouble before?”
She shook her head and pointed at him.
“Me?”
She nodded.
“What about me?”
“Trouble,” she mouthed.
“I’m trouble?”
She gave another definite nod.
“How am I trouble?” Was like his brain craved to hear everything he knew he shouldn’t.
She started signing with her hand and he wasn’t about to insist she use words now. She pointed at him then tapped her chest like a heartbeat going hard and fast then she drew her finger down her body and stopped right where he could never go.
He turned, putting his hands on his head, his cock throbbing.
She made her way around, standing in front of him.
“I don’t fucking know what to tell you Maggie,” he said, facing her.
She tapped his chest, and he snatched her wrist off him, staring at her.
“Not…mad,” she said, looking worried.
He let out a half laugh, releasing her. “You’re not mad,” he muttered, shaking his head while focusing on the problem so he could resolve it and leave. “Have you…tried using other things? Like your hand?” He realized he’d need to look at her if he was going to read her lips. He sure couldn’t handle her whispering it in his fucking ear.
The answer was no which was hard for him to fathom.
“Ever?”
No again.
“You can try that?”
The look she gave said she didn’t understand how that was even possible.
“I’ll call your sister, maybe she can…instruct you.” Fuck, he couldn’t call her for that.
She stared at him perplexed then walked back to the bed and sat, appearing doomed.
She slowly lay down on her side and he made his way over. Knowing why this was so necessary would help but that meant talking more about it. Was a trap he didn’t want to get in because he wasn’t sure he could escape it.
“Do you need to do it to sleep?” he wondered. She didn’t answer or look at him and he sat at the edge of the bed, angling his head. “You ignoring me now?”
Slow headshake.
“Hey,” he whispered. “You won’t die.”
She did something angry looking with her hands and the idea that she was this pissed over not having an orgasm made him grin. Almost like a daily chore she had to do rather than something she shared with another person.
He still couldn’t believe she saw it was something strictly medical. Guess he could too for her sake.
“Let’s try something different for you.”
She eyed him with a shy curiosity.
“But no touching,” he said. “That rule stays.”
Her small nod came as she continued looking at him with open wonder.
“I’m going to tell you what to do and you’ll do it and have your orgasm.”
The look of wonder told him that was a new concept she was willing but nervous to try.
He turned his back, closing his eyes. “I won’t look. I’m going to talk to you with words and you’ll answer me with words. Okay?” He waited for her answer. “Yes? No? You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes.”
Well, that was a neat trick to get her to talk. It was barely a whisper, but it was a perfect start.
“I want you to do exactly what I say and how I say to do it.”
“Yes,” she whispered again.
Fuck. Was he really about to do this?
Medical.
“Pull up your dress and… open your legs.” Creating the choreography of her orgasm was going to require him to walk through the fire with her, he realized. “When you’ve done it say yes.”
“Yes.”
The hot word burned him. “Are your legs open?”
“Yes.”
His cock jerked again with her hot answer. “Open them wider.”
Fuck. The push of her leg into his back and the moans escaping her had him on fire. “Yes,” she said, around shallow breaths.
Fuck she was already so aroused. “I want you to touch your clit. Do you know what that is?” he asked, realizing she might call it something else.
Her breaths turned hitched and erratic.
“Maggie,” he said quietly. “I need words.”
“Yes and yes,” she said around her growing moans.
“Are you touching it?”
“Yes.”
He imagined her hand on it, closing his eyes. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Good. Stroke it very softly.”
Her every delicate mmm sucked his cock.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Don’t stop stroking it. Is your clit wet?”
She gave a tiny mm-mm that sounded like a no.
“Wet your finger.”
Jerky mm’s came next, maybe confused.
“Put your finger in your pussy and wet it.”
Several breaths shot out, strained with moans again.
“Did you do it?”
“Yes,” she barely whispered.
“Stroke your wet finger on your clit,” he said, his pulse hammering in his cock.
Her mmm’s got longer and softer, burning him.
“Feels good Maggie?”
“Yes.”
Her whisper was so fucking hot. “Use both hands. Put your middle finger in your pussy while you stroke your clit.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her leg pushing rhythmically against him now.
“Are you fucking your finger Maggie?”
“… Yes,” she cried softly, sounding worried.
He closed his eyes, envisioning that. “That’s good, you’re doing perfect. Is your pussy getting hotter?”
“So hot,” she whispered.
His fought to keep his breaths steady. “Make it so fucking hot,” he ordered. “Rub your clit faster for me.”
Her strained mm’s were now replaced with shocked oh’s as her leg pushed even more into his back.
Pour le mour deDieu. “Fuck your pussy with your finger,” he said. “Is it fucking wet and tight?”
She answered with those soft cries, and he resisted the repeated urge to turn and see what that looked like on her angelique face.
“Are you close?”
Her breaths turned sharper with strained mmm’s.
“Tell me with fucking words, are you close?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Rub your clit faster now. I want to know when you’re coming, tell me.”
Her cries grew louder. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Spook,” she shot out, squirming and thrashing behind him.
Don’t fucking stop,” he ordered, winded. “Rub your sweet fucking pussy.”
She gave a strained cry at the last and he listened, burning in the rapture of sounds as she very slowly came down from that heaven. He clenched his eyes tight and willed the heat in his body down, knowing he’d just broken every celibacy rule in the book while helping her with her medical condition. He didn’t touch her, and he didn’t look, he reminded himself.
Fuck, he’d go with that for now.
“Was that good Maggie?” he asked quietly.
“So good,” she said, like she’d never had that before and wondered over the cool trick.
“Good night,” he said, hurrying out the room when the need to show her other cool tricks got to hair-trigger. One more look, sound, touch, or fucking smell, and he’d tear her to pieces and love every second of it.