Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(67)

He looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, and she was moaning and quivering. On the second go-round he hadn’t planned to pound so hard. In fact, he’d established a moderate rhythm. His strokes had been gentle and undemanding. But she’d asked, said she wanted hard again, and he’d had no problem giving her what she wanted.

“Striker?”

“Yes?”

“What’s happening to me?”

He knew why she was asking. “You’re experiencing orgasmic aftershocks.” Orgasmic aftershocks weren’t all that abnormal after an intense orgasm or a series of them. Usually they only lasted for a minute or two. So far hers had lasted for over five minutes now. If a man hit a woman’s G-spot at a certain angle, followed by the insertion of his finger inside of her for further stimulation, it could cause continuous surges of pleasurable sensations. And he’d deliberately made sure she received the full effect.

“It will wear off in a minute. How do you feel?”

“It’s hard to explain.” She glanced up at him. “I feel like you’re still inside of me.”

“I am.”

“I mean you. Not your finger.”

He smiled. “Next time I’ll make sure I stay.”

She finally stopped trembling and tried lifting her head, but it fell back against his arm. She must be drained. “Next time?”

Striker stared down at her. Had he said that? He hadn’t meant to give her the impression there would be another time for them. When he inhaled her scent he knew there would be a next time. Somehow he would protect her as well as bed her.

“You’re okay now,” he said, sliding his finger out of her and then boldly licking that finger while she watched. “Delicious,” he said huskily. “Now we’ll shower, but not together. I don’t want to wear you out too much. Besides, I need to call Quasar to bring our dinner and get an update with Stonewall with the relocation plans.”

“So we still have to leave here?”

He shifted to face her. “Yes, but you understand why, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, I understand. I just wish they would catch the person responsible, put him in jail and throw away the key.”

“That might happen. I understand the psychic who they didn’t listen to the last time has agreed to work with them again. If the authorities had taken her seriously before, then they would have known they’d been holding the wrong man.”

She lifted a brow. “She’s that good?”

“I hear she has quite a reputation and has worked with law enforcement before. Most notably, she worked with the feds to bust up a human-trafficking ring a couple years ago.”

“Wow. I hope she uses her psychic abilities to bring an end to all the killings.”

Striker pulled her closer into his arms. “So do I.”

*

RANDI TURNED FROM the barred window when she heard a sound behind her. The person she’d been waiting for had entered the room. Murphy Erickson. He seemed surprised to see her, and, just like she had requested, he was alone and wearing no restraints of any kind. Other than the orange prison suit, there was nothing to show that he belonged inside these prison walls.

He looked over at her, and his lips lifted in a curious smile. “Well, who do we have here?”

Already she was picking up negative vibes and, in a way, that was a good thing. “I’m Dr. Randi Fuller, Mr. Erickson. A psychic investigator.”

His eyes narrowed. “A psychic? I didn’t ask to see you.”

“No, but I asked to see you.”

He glanced around, and when he looked back at her, his face had hardened. “We’re alone. Don’t know whose idea that was, but it was a stupid one. I could kill you. With my bare hands. What do I have to lose?”

“What you have to lose is whichever body part you want me to mutilate first. Just so you know, I am a fifth-degree black belt. If you try to attack me, I will hurt you to the point that you’ll wish you were dead. In the end, you might very well be.”

He stared at her for a minute and then chuckled. “You’re kind of feisty, aren’t you? I like you. But just so you know, I don’t believe in your mumbo-jumbo stuff.”

“I’m surrounded by skeptics every day, but it doesn’t matter. In the end, I produce results.”

He pulled out the chair at the table and sat down. “So what do you think you’re going to get out of me?”

“Anything you want to tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell. In the end, I produce results,” he echoed. “We’re up to how many dead people now?”

Randi stared at him. He was trying to use her own words against her. How could he talk about those people whose lives he’d help to end as nothing more than a means to an end? She wondered how one man could be so evil. The aura surrounding him was vile and full of dark forces. She could barely stand to be in the same room with him.

When had it all begun for him? Had it been when his mother’s live-in lover had sexually molested him at ten? Or when his mother had whored him out as a teen whenever she needed a fix? Both scenes flashed in Randi’s mind. She had to get past his upbringing since it was clouding the present.

“Why kill them? They didn’t do anything to you.”

Her words, as she’d known they would, put him on the defensive. “They did do something to me. I don’t care if some of them were no more than spectators in the courtroom. They were there to witness what they thought was my downfall. So I’m making sure it’s theirs.”