Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
The rolling, hoarse moan that came through the phone told her that he was following her directions like the good male he was—and God help them both, but she was seeing herself spreading her legs even farther as he led with his head down to her core.
“Stroke yourself,” she commanded as she rolled her hips and scissored her knees.
More moaning from him, and then heavy breathing. In her imagination, she had him entering her, and moving in and out, nice and slow, his hips rolling and retreating. So deep and then out of her. Deep again. Pulling out.
“Faster,” she demanded. “Fuck me faster, Allhan…”
While she rubbed her legs, she ground the heel of her hand into the top of her sex, her own fangs dropping down as he panted harshly.
“I’m coming,” he said in a strangled, deep voice. “I think I’m—oh, fuck—”
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop—”
“Oh, God, I’m coming—”
Denne rolled onto her stomach and barked his name into her pillow to make sure nobody heard her out in the hallway. As spears of pleasure shot through her, Al was making an unholy noise that was absolutely the best thing she had ever heard. Then he bit out her name, and she knew that was when the orgasm was happening for him, too.
The idea that he was coming brought a fresh release onto her.
In the midst of the swirling pleasure, she knew that his first time was also her very, very best time.
And they weren’t even in person.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The following evening, Allhan went to work even though he’d been told not to. As he re-formed in front of the huge red barn that housed Vishous’s FT Headquarters, he zipped his hoodie up a little tighter to his neck against the cold—and decided he was never going to look at fastenings in the same way again.
Nope. Never.
Approaching the door, he looked up to the security camera, and immediately the lock was sprung for him. The second he pulled things open, the scent of pine boards mixed with a barely perceptible undertone of electrical components hit him, and it was strange. He felt like he was home.
The great bay of raftered space arched over the dozens of workstations, and as he started walking down the aisle between all the desks, he wondered whether any of the males and females sitting with their heads in those monitors ever looked up at what was above them. It was such a nice view, row after row of the broad ceiling beams with their geometric angles meeting at the center line of the entire structure.
Leveling his stare, he focused on the far end, at the glass walls of Vishous’s stainless steel office. The panels were frosted, which meant the Brother had put the privacy filter on again. Or that it was still engaged from before.
Just as well. Allhan totally wasn’t supposed to be here, and he was hoping to get in and out quickly.
His desk was off in the rear corner, facing the wall. As he pulled out the rolling chair, he glanced back at the IT dream team Vishous had built up to precise specifications, just as he’d constructed the barn, and kitted out the sophisticated network of servers and custom web-based resources.
All to keep the Brotherhood, the fighters, and the species at large safe, organized, and getting what they needed on all levels.
Allhan had been working here for about five months. Tracking everything he saw. Assessing the infrastructures. Making recommendations for improvements, debugging laptops and computers remotely, checking for infiltrations and possible hacking.
From the start, he’d done the work to his very best ability. He’d also waited… patiently.
And then the invitation to go home and have Last Meal with Vishous had been presented to him—
A couple of males glanced up from their monitors, their brows raised with expectation like they were prepared to give him anything he wanted. There was some envy in their eyes, too.
If they only knew, he thought as he sat down and started the sign-in process.
While his fingers flew over the keys, he liked the fact that Vishous still adhered to the old school keyboard way of doing things. There was something very satisfying about typing commands as opposed to the neural-linx technology that most of the human race used. And personally, he didn’t like the idea of anybody potentially having control over his mind.
Not that he hadn’t fucked his own head up.
On that note…
The IP address of his particular connection to the internet was so impossible to isolate, it might as well have been air, but even still, as he back-doored into the Caldwell Police Department servers, he was careful to give himself a raincoated one that was easily discoverable.
And traceable right to one of the CPD’s own detective desks.
It wasn’t hard to do. During the day, he’d scoped things out on his burner phone, tapping on entry points, examining the structure of the city’s municipal servers and network. He was not impressed with the rudimentary shit. To the point that he wondered why humans didn’t take greater care to protect their information, especially around victims of crimes.