B.O.B.'s Fall

Damn, his cock was hard, and the lab-issued overalls he wore did nothing to hide it.



Mac shifted uncomfortably, his hand moving between his thighs to shift the heavy weight of his balls and palm the long length of his erection.

The woman had no modesty; that was all there was to it. She stood beneath the outdoor showerhead, turning slowly, her full, high breasts glistening with rivulets of water, the little rise of her tummy suntanned and wet, the patch of light blonde curls between her legs a contrast to the darker tone of her skin.

He frowned as his gaze centered there. He had always preferred a waxed mound to one hidden by the light covering of hair…until now. With Elyiana it appeared mysterious, tempting, it made him want to spread her luscious long legs and bury his head between them to reveal the secrets hidden there.

What secrets were hidden there, though? He fought the fog in his mind; he knew the answers were there, floating around somewhere, just out of reach. Did he know her? He felt he did, yet he could remember nothing about her. Not how she felt or how she tasted. He knew the sound of her voice, the lyrical accent that had him wanting to listen to her forever. Just as he knew she liked long, slow kisses, and that sex with her was always different.

Once in a jungle at dawn, another on his boardroom table. He shook his head. He knew her, he knew he did, but what he knew didn’t make sense.

What had happened? How had he found himself on that gurney in an unfamiliar scientific lab? He knew when he woke up he had expected to see blood, and a lot of it But there had been none. Not a wound, not a scar, nothing to indicate the trauma he had somehow expected.

He ran his hand over his muscular abdomen now, frowning at the feel of it. He felt like himself, yet he didn’t. He looked like himself, yet he didn’t.

His hair shouldn’t be so long, flowing past his shoulders in straight, dark red waves. It should be conservatively short. Yet, he knew he had once worn his hair just like this. He was stronger than he thought he should be. He had been going for three days, watching the house, making certain she was alone and that she wasn’t being watched by any other than him. He had taken little more than a nap here or there, and yet he felt refreshed, at peak condition.

Only his mind wasn’t functioning right. His brain felt scrambled. It was incredibly hard to remember the things he knew he should. Yet, he had known how to get out of the labs.

Instinctively he had manipulated the security and the jet glider. He had found the switch that made the ultra-light air transport invisible to detection and had managed to disengage the GPS.

How had he known how to do that yet couldn’t remember things he should know about himself?

He was Mac. Thirty-five years old, rich, he knew he had money but not how to get to it. He had family, but he didn’t know who they were. He knew he wasn’t married, yet he felt he should be. He knew his life was in danger, but he couldn’t remember how or why.

Goddammit, why couldn’t he put everything together? And why the hell did he feel equal parts arousal and fury for the woman he was watching?

He gritted his teeth as she took the soapy cloth, propped her slender long leg on a curved pipe and began to wash the honey gold mound of her pussy. Suds filled the sleek hair, dripping to the cement pad she stood on and hid the pink flesh he was dying to taste.

She would be sweet, like wild rain on his tongue. Yet, he couldn’t remember going down on her to find out. He shook his head as she detached the showerhead from above, and lowered it until she could rinse the suds from between her golden thighs.

Her head fell back as obvious pleasure washed over her expression. The spray pelted her cunt, massaging her clit, and for a moment he thought he was going to come in his overalls at the sight of her little shiver of pleasure.

Elyiana. Her name whispered through his mind. Elyiana Richards.

Legs. He smiled at the thought. The woman had legs that went all the way to her neck. Long and shapely, perfectly rounded and strong. She could hold a man to her with legs like that. Wrap around him and hold him in place as he filled her with his seed.

His mind was consumed with thoughts of sex when he should be trying to figure out why the hell he was here and what this woman was to him. As she finished rinsing, he stood slowly to his feet, watching as she pulled the thin towel from the post beside her.

She wrapped it around her, tucking the ends securely between her breasts as she stared into the brush where he hid. He smiled tightly. She knew he was there. He didn’t know how she knew, he hadn’t done anything to give himself away and he knew it. But she was aware of him.

Mac tensed as she tilted her head, moving slowly, hesitantly as though to investigate the area he hid in. A frown crossed her brow and he could see a bit of confusion in her expression, as though she weren’t certain. Frightened. He didn’t want her frightened, he wanted her hot and screaming in pleasure beneath him as he worked his cock between her thighs, sliding into her creamy heat, working deep inside her tight pussy.

On the heels of that thought, the sound of an engine was heard overhead. Ducking further into the brush, he narrowed his eyes as the civilian jet glider set down in the cleared yard and a lanky male form exited the vehicle.

“Scott.” Joy filled the woman’s voice as she moved quickly to the craft, accepting the embrace that wrapped around her half naked body as though she were meant to be there.

Mac’s teeth clenched as fury swept through him. Pure possessive rage tightened every muscle and bone in his body until it was all he could do to stay in place and watch the scene as it unfolded.

“Hey, gorgeous.” The blond-haired Australian’s accent was thick, filled with laughter as he dropped a quick kiss to the lips turned up to his. “Thought I’d check up on you before heading into Brisbane for supplies. You need anything while I’m out?”

“I’m still well stocked,” her answer drifted back to him on the breeze. “Give me a call before you head back in, though, just in case.”

He ruffled her hair affectionately before his arm dropped over her shoulders for another quick hug.

“Everything going fine then?” he asked her curiously. “How’s the deadline?”

“Almost there.” She backed up a bit, tightening the towel around her as the knot slipped.

“We had another run in with The MacDougal though. The publisher has received several blistering emails this month alone. That man needs the stick pulled out of his arse in a bad way.”

The MacDougal. The words echoed through his mind. He heard the disdain in her voice, the sense that she had somehow been hurt. Her expression was a bit pouty and a lot angry.

“So pull it out,” the man laughed, a wide smile creasing his angular face. “If anyone could charm the beast that is The MacDougal, then you’ve surely taken my vote.”

She chuckled at the comment. “But you’re prejudiced in my favor,” she reminded him.

“’Course I am.” He shrugged, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “You charmed me, love. The MacDougal surely couldn’t be any worse.”

“Perhaps not worse, but not worth the effort,” she assured him. “Now get out of here. I’m sure you’re already running late. You’re always running late.”

“Running late I am,” he agreed. “I’ll give you a call in a few days. Have your list ready.”

The door to the glider rose slowly and he ducked into the craft. With a quick wave as she stepped back, he closed the door. In a smooth surge of power, the small glider lifted then banked and shot into the sky.

With one last cautious glance toward where he hid, Elyiana moved quickly back to the safety of the house, closing the door behind her, and if he wasn’t mistaken, locking it.

Was she frightened? Expecting him?

He gritted his teeth against the fragmented memories shifting through his brain, the scattering of impulses that had his frustration level rising. He needed answers and he was certain she had them. She had to have them or why else would every instinct and memory he could drag from his fractured mind send him here?

He wasn’t going to find them here, skulking in the brush, watching the cheery comfort of the small house she had retreated inside. Besides, he was damned hungry, and thirst raged inside him, unlike anything he felt he had known before. He was confused but he was determined.

This woman had to hold the answers he needed, why else would he be there. Why else would something inside him be pulling at him, pushing him closer to the woman who awaited him inside? He wasn’t the trusting sort, though, even for something as temping as the leggy little bohemian who had entered the house.

He slid purposely from the brush working his way around to the back of the little one-story bungalow to an opened bedroom window. He could hear her in the front of the house, the sound of her voice humming some tune, the muted sound of pots or pans banging in a cabinet.

Pushing the window open further, he climbed into the opening, straining to fit his muscular body through the small entrance. Once inside he moved quickly to the bedroom door, peeking through the small opening between it and the frame.

She had at least pulled on clothes, not that there was much to the dress she wore. The dark gold and violet sundress fell to just above her knees, swishing seductively along her trim legs.

The slender straps emphasized her graceful shoulders and long neck while her hair fell in a damp cascade of waves to the middle of her back.

He drew back as she turned to face the door, hearing her light footfalls as she headed for the bedroom. He tensed, knowing she was going to enter the room, that within moments, one way or the other, he was going to have her in his arms.

The door flew open and Mac moved. Using a speed he wasn’t aware he possessed, he jerked her from her feet, pinning her back against his chest, her arms to her sides.

“Ye’ll no be wanting to fight me,” he warned darkly at her ear as her scream echoed around them both. “I willna hurt ye unless you make me, Legs. Please, for both our sakes, dinna make me.”

For a moment, he thought she would obey him. That she would still in his arms and give him a chance to settle his senses and to control the lust raging through his body. But only for a moment.

One second he was holding a full-bodied, luscious little sex treat in his arms; the next minute he was attempting to still a fully enraged she-cat intent on de-manning him. Some nights, it just didn’t pay to be a man.