She tried to hide her flaming face in her hands, and he thrust up again, knocking Maura off-balance, and she slammed her hands on either side of his shoulders to steady herself. "You were exquisite..." he whispered into her ear.
He was Satan, she thought blindly. The Devil.
He laughed, shoving up again, palm firm against her stomach, fingers tightening just under her navel where Maura could feel the top of his cock pressing insistently. "You soaked the cuff of my shirt. I kept sniffing it during that indescribably boring meeting- my cock was hard all afternoon."
"James..." she moaned, trying to concentrate, "I'm going to- um, I'm ready-" He started laughing, bouncing Maura up and down on his shaft. She put her hand over his this time, arching her back again and moaning. The vibrations from his laughter, the strain of the tendons in his legs against hers, the intense, almost painful pressure of their combined hands against the thin skin of her stomach was too much. "It's the G-spot!" she shrieked, "I- I just remembered!"
***
James couldn't understand why he was laughing even harder while he came with the same intensity. He dug his heels into the rugs on the floor, shoving his cock as deep as he could inside his wife’s wildly clenching pussy to keep her from pushing him out. The feeling of his bride flailing above him with utter bliss and praising him at the top of her lungs and laughing too was more than he could handle. They collapsed together, covered in their combined arousal and a sense of ridiculousness alien to them both. And nothing, he thought, had ever felt better in his life. "Oh, Maura," he groaned, "my Maura-girl..."
His left hand slid to hers, idly turning the ring on her finger before bringing it to his lips. James curled around her, almost asleep when he heard her whisper, "It’s possible that I love you, you stubborn, stupid, terrible man..."
***
"MR SAHNOUN!"
"Good afternoon, Mr. O'Connell."
"HAVE YOU SEEN PINE? I'VE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE; WE HAVE BLAST REPORTS TO LOOK OVER."
"I believe he and Miss Maura are taking a nap, sir."
"A NAP? NONSENSE. JAMES DOESN'T 'NAP.' I NEVER HEARD OF SUCH A THING."
"You're welcome to check their tent, sir."
"EH... I'LL JUST LOOK OVER THOSE REPORTS MYSELF."
The next twenty-four hours were a blur. James was mapping strategy for their return to Algiers while trying to pull together the mining report and fielding phone calls from an increasingly agitated Kingston. Swallowing her resentment of Nicholas, Maura offered to help him transfer funds and monitor security chatter about the fake kidnapping of the Algerian First Lady. She'd been furious when James told her of the poor woman's fate, and she spent many moments pondering how to best beat the living hell out of Fassell.
Stretching her arms for a moment, Maura had to admit that it felt good to be back on a keyboard.
"Have you checked the Interpol line for any comment on the kidnapping?" Nicholas still couldn't look at her, hunched over his monitor and typing furiously.
"Yes, nothing there. So far, the only major traffic on the story is coming out of South Africa," she answered, rubbing the back of her neck. "Do you need help on those reports for the French and the Saudis?"
"Almost there," Nicholas mumbled, "but there's a problem with General Nezzar- he keeps demanding more money, he's already drawn an extra thirty-four million pounds."
"Again?" Maura frowned, "What could he possibly be using it for? Everything's been supplied by the Corporation. He's got to be stockpiling it."
"Who are we talking about?" James walked into the tent, still going over some air surveillance photos.
Nicholas and Maura looked at each other cautiously, an ironic echo of their time working together back in Manhattan. "General Nezzar, Mr. Pine. He's just requested more money, and that's after the thirty-four million draw from last week."
His eyes turned frosty. "Block him from the account. Don't answer any queries from Kingston or Fassell. I'll handle it." His decision put James on the satellite phone with a screaming First in Command for most of the evening. Maura brought him a plate of food and two fingers of Macallan, which he gratefully downed first. Smiling a bit, she made him another, placing it in front of him before leaving again. She had to admit it, hearing him be so cold and collected with Kingston when she could hear the woman bellowing down the phone line was arousing.
Staying in the tent with James was too much temptation. Remembering how she climbed his lovely, long body and rubbed against him like a sex-crazed Howler monkey made Maura groan. Not the time, you idiot! she thought, reluctantly leaving with a quick glance back to admire him again.
Lying together in bed that night, they looked out the tent opening to the full moon holding vigil over the Sahara. James was still halfway sprawled over Maura, long fingers idly teasing between her thighs. "No more," she groaned, "you're being mean, now..."
He chuckled, rolling off her and nuzzling into her hair. "Oh, Maura-girl, poor love."
Running her fingers over the hills and valleys of his ribcage, she sighed. "Do you feel ready for tomorrow?"
James tucked an arm behind his head, idly playing with her curls as he watched the moon. "There is always a plan, darling."
"Knowing the diabolical Mr. Pine," Maura stretched, "there is a plan within a plan within a plan."
