Chapter 24.
Skye woke slowly, clawing her way out of vague, foggy dreams. She was really, really comfortable. Mm. Was she back in Avengers Tower, in one of Stark's sinfully soft beds? It took several blinks to get her eyes open and look around.
Not Avengers Tower. Somewhere even better. Gauzy white curtains blew at French windows open to a balcony, and outside she could see blue sea bathed in sunshine.
Nice. Skye smiled lazily, looking around. She lay in a huge, luxurious bed, soft white sheets draping her naked body.
Huh. Naked? Skye didn't normally sleep in the nude. Right now, though, she couldn't bring herself to care. She looked vaguely around some more, taking in the opulent furniture, the fan whirling lazily over the bed.
The door opened and Skye looked across – at the most handsome man she'd ever seen, walking into the room. Tall and darkly gorgeous, he was deliciously edible. Broad shoulders stretched the seams of his black T-shirt, thick muscles bulging from the short sleeves.
"Hey, you're awake, Skye, how are you feeling?" he asked gently.
"Good. You're so beautiful," she said wonderingly, running her eyes over him greedily. He was wearing black cargo pants and tactical boots.
"Thank you. I see you're feeling better." He approached the bed, smiling. His chin was thickly stubbled, and Skye couldn't help but wonder how it would feel if he scratched that roughness over her body. Her lips parted at the thought, heat welling between her legs.
"Was I sick?" Skye asked, bemused. She felt fine.
"A little bit. We gave you something to make you feel better." He glanced at the bedside table, and she looked over to see an empty syringe lying there, before looking back at him. She couldn't get enough of looking at him. She didn't think she would ever get enough of looking at him.
"What's your name?" she asked softly.
His smile widened. "Brock. Brock Rumlow."
"Brock," she tried the name out in her mouth. "Brock. That's a good name. A strong name. It suits you, you look so strong."
He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat now. "Yeah? You like that?"
"Oh yes. I love strong men." Boldly, she flung back the sheet covering her. "Please. Please would you fuck me?"
Dark eyes surveyed her body slowly, thoroughly, before he looked back at her face. "That," Brock Rumlow said softly, "will be my genuine pleasure."
Confession time. I have dreams where I find Brock Rumlow standing over me like that. Only I don't need drugging to start begging. That man. Whoa. He could turn me to the dark side ANY TIME.
And yeah – short chapter – sorry. Couldn't resist stopping on yet another cliffhanger. But I promise I'll post a new one tomorrow to put you out of your misery!