World Without End Read Free Page A

sound, Pasha yanked his boxers down his legs and then took him into her mouth. Behind her thick locks, her blue eyes stared up at him, her gaze serious and intense, the way one stared down an adversary. Conway surrendered himself to the smooth, texture of her mouth, and the dream and the hollow feeling of loneliness that had haunted him just moments ago began to drift away.
    Several minutes later, his knees grew weak. His body started to jerk.
    Pasha sensed what was about to happen and stopped. She slid out of her underwear, removed her tank top, then moved on top of him and guided him deep inside her. Pasha always had to be on top she didn't like sex any other way and he wasn't surprised when she grabbed his wrists, moved them over his head, and pinned them hard against the mattress with a surprising strength. Pasha needed to dominate him like she did everything else in her life; she controlled how they fucked, set the pace and tempo she even controlled where he touched her by guiding his hands to certain areas, watching him the entire time.
    Pasha leaned forward, her back arched, until her breasts rubbed against the upper part of his chest and the whiskers along his face, and then rocked back and forth, slowly, in full control, and stared down at him through her hair. Other women in his life had required constant foreplay before actual intercourse. Sex was a production. Not with Pasha. She fucked like a man, got right down to it without any pretense, no moaning, no change in expression, just greedy, give me what I need and absolutely no talking, her eyes always open and watching, her intense gaze reminding Conway of the way a jewel thief prizes a rare, priceless stone locked behind glass.
    What a pair we make, Conway thought.
    A moment later Conway felt the pressure build again. Without a sound or a change in expression, Pasha rocked her hips even quicker while keeping his hands pinned above his head, her strength amazing. His body jerked and shuddered and a moment later it was over, both of them quiet, breathing hard and sweating.
    Pasha lay on top of his chest, her breasts damp with perspiration, sliding against his already wet skin. She still held his hands in place and then rested her chin on his shoulder, near his scar, her hair covering his face and eyes. It was like he was looking at the world from a jail cell.
    "I'll always be here for you," Pasha whispered, her words a low, drowsy hum against his ear. Conway could hear her labored breaths, could smell the sleepiness and sweat lingering on her skin.
    "I know."
    "I'll keep you safe," she said.
    "I promise."
    Conway pried his hands away from her grasp, wrapped his arms around her back, and hugged her close to him. He felt the hard, rubbery stump of her left ear press against his cheek, a grim reminder that love and the whispered promises of solace and protection were no match against the chaotic agenda of the outside world.
    According to the glossy sales brochures and slick advertising materials, Delburn Systems specialized in helping companies develop successful e-business solutions for their Web sites. Delburn's twenty-odd employees, the overwhelming majority of them in their late twenties to early thirties, had their own business cards printed with their names, phone numbers, and job tides, listing their areas of expertise. They hustled about the city of Austin, Texas, playing the part of eager young professionals looking to cash in on the exploding potential of the Internet.
    In reality, Delburn was a CIA front, the temporary base of operations for the Information Warfare Analysis Center. The five-floor, nondescript brick building that housed them was owned and operated by the CIA and used the latest technological advances in biometric security to keep the true activities of the company safe from prying eyes and ears.
    The conference room was painted a pale yellow and had floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a partial aerial view of the bustling activity of