Ultimate Warriors (30 page)

     
As he
moved up her body, she reached for him, exploring him with her hands like a
blind woman. He was surprisingly firm muscled. Not bulky like the superhero
posters on her walls, but not soft, either, as she expected a geek to be. He
must get away from that laptop occasionally, she thought.

     
Her
hands slid across his flat belly and dipped between his legs. He sucked in a
breath as she gripped his cock. Her fingers ran the long, firm length of it,
all the way down,
then
all the way up again. The head
was wide and warm. She cupped it in her palm, squeezing a little.

     
His
breathing went ragged. He groaned a little as he leaned in and kissed her.

     
"You
took off your glasses," she said. She tried to imagine it.

     
"Yeah,"
he said. "I can’t see a thing."

     
She
laughed at that. Her arms went around his neck, holding him tight. "Are we
really going to do this?"

     
"If you’ll let me."

     
"Do
you have condoms in that black bag?"

     
"Only a couple dozen."

     
She
smiled against his lips. "We can always go out for more
later
."

     
He
levered himself away, until they were no longer touching. She thought she heard
him strip off the glove, then tear a foil packet. She waited for him to return,
but the seconds ticked by and he waited, not moving, not speaking.

     
"Clark?"

     
No
answer. She lay still, waiting, listening. She couldn’t hear anything beyond
the ocean music--no movement, no breathing. Had he left her? Why?

     
The
seconds ticked by. Blossom lay still at first, not wanting to break the magic
of the game. But when endless moments passed and still he didn’t return, she
sat up, her hands reaching for the ties on the blindfold.

     
"Leave
it on," Clark said.

     
Her
hands stilled on the laces. "I thought you had gone."

     
"No,"
he said. "I’m here, watching you."

     
"Why?"

     
He gave
a wry laugh. "I don’t know. I guess I just like looking at you, knowing
you can’t see me. I’m not sure you would be so eager to make love if your eyes
were open."

     
A
glimmer of shame flashed through her. "My posters bother you, don’t they?
I’m sorry. I know it’s silly of me, obsessing about superheroes.
About men who don’t exist."

     
"No,"
he said. His voice sounded strange.
Uncertain.
"It’s not that. It’s just..."

     
She
wished she could see his face. "What?"

     
"I’ve
dreamed of a woman like you," Clark said.

     
Blossom
gave a shaky laugh. "You’ve dreamed of woman with freckles and frizzy red
hair, who didn’t want to date you because you drag a laptop around?"

     
He
shifted on the mattress.
"Well, not that, exactly.
I’ve dreamed of one who trusted me enough to let herself go in my arms."

     
Blossom
kept her voice steady. "And you think I could do that?"

     
"I
know you can," he said.

     
"I
wish I could believe you," she said. "But the truth is
,
I’m not sure it’s possible for me. I’ve never had an
orgasm. I can’t even imagine it."

     
In lieu
of an answer, she felt his lips on her stomach, her breast, her neck. His body
moved, fitting itself to hers. She parted her legs, cradling his arousal.

     
And then
he was inside, filling her, stroking, moving. "You know what I’m imagining
right now?" he whispered in her ear.

     
"What?"
she whispered back.

     
"The two of us on a beach, alone.
Doing
this."
He thrust in.

     
"Someone
would see us," she said. He eased out.

     
"No.
We’re alone.
On a deserted island."
He surged
forward, harder than before.

     
Blossom
sucked in a breath. "Are there palm trees?"

     
"As
many as you want," he said, his hips flexing under her hands.
"All around us.
Swaying gently in the
warm breeze."

     
"What
does the ocean look like?"

     
He
quickened his pace. "Pale green and sparkling. You can see clear through
the water to the sand."

     
She felt
herself slip toward something she desperately wanted to reach.
"The sky.
Is it blue?"

     
"It’s
brilliant." He
was loving
her hard now, with
long, deep strokes, mingled with the scent of his sweat and the ragged sound of
his breath in her ears. She opened her mouth on his shoulder and tasted the
salty, slick flavor of him.

     
"The
sand is warm," he murmured.
"Warm and soft.
You can feel it beneath you."

     
His
hands ran along the backs of her thighs, lifting them as he angled her body for
a deeper thrust. She knotted her hands in the comforter. So close. She could
feel the moist breeze on her face, smell the salt in the air.

     
"Let
go," Clark breathed.
"Now.
Do it for
me." He gripped her hips and surged forward.

     
Shattering
light burst inside her. She felt her body fling outward, as if exploded into a
million, glittering pieces,
each
one an eternal
fragment of bliss. She clung to Clark’s shoulders as his body pistoned against
hers. She felt him go even harder inside her.

     
He cried
her name as he came. His orgasm triggered aftershocks of
her
own
release. They pulsed like the ocean, waves and waves of bliss,
carrying her gently back to earth. When it was over, she melted into the warm
sand, her mouth seeking Clark’s lips. He kissed her deeply, his breath slowing
until it matched the rhythm of the ocean in the background. A soft spray of
water misted over her.

     
Wait a
minute.
Sand?
Water?

     
She
jackknifed to a sitting position. Her head hit Clark’s chin.

     
"Ouch!"

     
She tore
off the blindfold.

     
And
glimpsed
wide ocean
and white sand. The sparkling
sunlight forced her eyes shut again. She wasn’t in her bedroom. Oh my God.
"Clark?" Her voice wavered.

     
He
grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet. "Hoooo-yaaah," he
yelled, swinging her around. Her bare feet fought for balance on the soft sand.
"We did it!"

     
She
cracked her eyes open and focused on his face, struck by how handsome he was
without his glasses. "Did what?"

     
He
shoved a springy dark curl out of his eyes and grinned at her.
"We teleported."

     
"That’s
impossible."

     
He
laughed and swung her around again. This time, Blossom had the presence of mind
to be embarrassed. They were both naked, for God’s sake.
Out
in the open.

     
"Look
around you," Clark said. "We’re here. It’s possible." He dropped
her hand and punched a victorious fist in the air.

     
She
couldn’t deny he had a point. "But how?" she asked. "What did
you do?"

     
"It
wasn’t me," Clark said. "You did this."

     
"No,
I didn’t."

     
"Yes,"
he said, "you did." He caught her hand and tugged her back down on
the sand. "Let me explain."

     
By the
time he had, she was stunned, bewildered, and seething mad. And wishing she had
some clothes to put on. It was beyond awkward sitting here on the beach, naked,
while Clark explained how he’d been acting under orders to talk her into bed.

     
"Let
me get this straight," she said. "You’re some kind of psychic
superhero secret agent. I needed an orgasm to turn me into a superheroine. And
you volunteered to give it to me? So I could help you save the world?"

     
He
looked away.
"Yeah.
Something
like
that. You know, I think that’s why you’re so visually oriented. It’s part of
your talent. You have to see where you’re going in your mind in order to
teleport there."

     
Tears
stung her eyes. She blinked hard, willing them not to fall. She’d thought she’d
attracted Clark on her own. She thought he cared for her. Now she’d discovered
she was nothing but an assignment to him. She scrambled to her feet and started
marching across the sand.

     
"You
can just take your save-the-world problem and shove it, Clark. I’m not
helping."

     
He
jogged up behind her. "What do you mean? You have to help. Or else
everyone in the world, including us, will be dead in--" He checked his
bare wrist. "Shit. I left my watch in your apartment."

     
She came
to a halt. "Can’t some other superhero stop Lex Loser?"

     
"If
that were possible, Heroes Incorporated would have handled it by now." He
shook his head. "No. The fate of humanity rests in our hands. You have to
get us into Lex’s lair. I’ll do the rest."

     
"How
am I supposed to do that? I don’t even know how I got us here." She bit
her lip. "What if I can’t get us back? We could be stuck here for weeks.
Naked.
With no food."

     
"There
are coconuts, probably," Clark said. "But that’s beside the point.
You can get us back. I know you can. Just picture it."

     
Blossom
sighed. "Okay, what do I have to do?"

     
Clark
blinked. "I don’t know. What were you doing when you teleported us
here?"

     
Blossom
frowned, trying to remember.
"Nothing special."

     
"Thanks
a lot," Clark said.

     
Blossom
blushed. "I mean, I was just picturing the beach you were talking about,
then, when I came, here we were."

     
"Okay,"
said Clark. "We can work with that. I’ll describe HI headquarters, give
you a mental image. You grab my hand, concentrate, and we’ll be there."

     
"Uh, Clark."

     
"Yes?"

     
"There’s
only one problem."

     
"What’s
that?"

     
"We
can’t go to headquarters."

     
He gave
her a puzzled look.
"Why not?"

     
"We’re
naked, remember?"

     
He
looked down. "Oh. Yeah. I forgot."

     
Blossom
rolled her eyes.
"Geeks."

     
Saturday, 3:52 p.m.

     
Eight
hours, eight minutes, and counting...

     
They
landed in the bathtub, limbs tangled.

     
Clark
lifted Blossom over the rim of the tub, trying not to get distracted by all the
soft skin in his hands.

     
"That’s
strange," she said. "I was picturing the bedroom."

     
"That’s
not good," Clark told her. "We could have rematerialized in a wall or
something.
Or in mid-air.
Your father was killed by an
error like that."

     
Blossom
shivered.
"Oh, God.
I had no idea."

     
Clark
strode into the bedroom. "Ideally, you should practice. Do some safe,
little jumps. Get the hang of it." He glanced at the clock on the
nightstand. "But there’s not time for much. We’ve got to get to
headquarters as soon as possible." He grabbed his clothes, then scooped up
hers and tossed them to her.