Chapter 256

Hope and Art sat on one of the couches in Art's sitting room. The nurses, Bobby and Sandra, holding hands, sat quietly on the other couch as they watched.

Hope made a very light outline of a face. "Slightly wider," Art instructed. A touch with the eraser, a quick few sweeps of her hand, then she started on a rough but very light outline of the eyes. Light so she could easily erase and change anything that needed to be changed.

Art thought for a second, then began describing the man's eyes. Absently, lovingly, he put his hand on Hope's neck, occasionally very gently massaging it. Without hesitating, he went on with the description, his eyes losing focus as, in his mind's eye, he again saw the man walk out of the house to the limo, his security guards alert as they walked with him. Art droned out his description and thoughts, not even noticing Hope's flying pencils as the sketch now boldly took shape without the eraser being used anymore.

Bobby and Sandra looked at each other, smiles touching their lips as they wondered.

"His eyes," Hope absently said. "He noticed you. He locked eyes with you for a second."

"Yeah, I suppose he did. I guess I never noticed that," Art replied, not fully realizing what Hope had just said.

The sketch seemed to grow out of the page as Hope's pencils brought out details of the man's face – details that Art had not even mentioned aloud, let alone coached her through as she drew them.

Faster than she had ever sketched a face, the drawing took form and was finished. As the two sat staring at it, Hope quietly said, "He's an Alpha, you know."

The comment seemed to wrench Art's mind from the sketch/picture as he began to realize what had just happened. "I didn't ... I mean ... You drew what I saw, but I never even mentioned his mouth or ... his hair, and you didn't erase or change anything as you worked. But ... it's perfect. That's him ... How did you do that?" he very quietly asked, his voice almost breaking as he struggled to believe. "You ... saw him, didn't you? It wasn't just my description. It couldn't have been. You only used the eraser in the very beginning. There was no adjustment as you drew and I described again and again, like we did with the other two. You knew. Once we got started, you just drew him. It... can't be," he stumbled out. "And how do you know he's an Alpha? You can't tell from the sketch."

Hope put her pencils back in their box. There was no touch-up needed. The sketch was complete – so perfect it almost seemed as if the person were looking back at them.

"You saw him," Art continued. "When I began to describe him, you saw him, didn't you?" he whispered.

Hope thought about denying it, but somehow she couldn't. "I ... I don't know what I did. It was suddenly so easy. When you began to describe his face in detail, I could hear your voice – way in the background – but I saw him walk out of that house, reach his limo, then turn back to stare at you. It was eerie – scary. I was ... there," she finished as tears sparkled her eyes. "What have I done? What's happened? That man is evil," she finished, her voice trembling.

Art hugged her to him, kissing her forehead before they both sat staring down at the picture in her lap.

Clearing his throat, "We need to get this to the General," the young Alpha said.

"But it's late," Hope objected. "We can do it in the morning."

Art was shaking his head. "Whitworth was emphatic about that. He said he wanted to know, night or day, if I thought of anything at all. This is a hell of a lot more than just thinking of anything. This is a picture of someone that might very well be important to the slavers. The more I think about it, the more I realize that. I only saw him as he walked out of the house, and I don't know anything about the meeting, but he had security people who looked as if they were extremely competent. He's important. I just know he is. And with all that's happened to me..."

"He looked straight at you," Hope offered, then clamped her mouth shut as she thought what that might mean.

Art picked up the phone and dialed the General's suite.

Ellen, General Henry Whitworth's first wife, lay on the bed, having regained consciousness from her orgasms. She stared adoringly at her husband as he pounded her sister. Barbara was on her knees, her face buried in a pillow and her ass positioned near the side of the bed as Whitworth, standing behind her, continued to slam his cock up her. She could feel Ellen's love for her as her sister reached out a hand to caress her hair.

"Finish her, Henry. If you keep on much longer, she won't be able to walk in the morning. And hold her breasts. She loves that when you come from the back."

Whitworth reached under his new wife/sister-in-law and took her breasts in his big hands, but despite his nearing orgasm, those hands were gentle, squeezing only the amount he knew she liked. "I'm almost there," he gasped out as his rhythm faltered and he began short, hard hunches.

Barbara's head snapped up from the pillow, her neck arching back, her mouth opening in a silent, "O," as she felt his cock push hard against her womb, his body beginning to tremble.

Ellen, not having moved her hand away from contact in time, was caught up in the Alpha-induced orgasm. Both women screamed as Barbara felt the gush of semen flood her pussy, the warmth of his seed splashing her cervix, the feeling of the virile male's pulsing cock driving both women to a bliss that their minds were unable to process.

Ellen slumped back with a silly expression on her face, while Barbara shivered for a moment longer, before joining her in sleep. Whitworth, his slowly deflating cock soaking in his sister-in-law's twitching pussy, stood beside the bed still holding Barbara's breasts as he tried to regain his breath. Damn, that was good he thought. Hmmm, it's not that late yet. I wonder if...

And the phone rang.

"This better be important," he snarled under his breath as he tried to reach the offending instrument without taking his cock out of his wife. "Shit," he muttered as he gave up, pulled out and took the couple of steps necessary to reach the phone.

At the last instant, he realized it was an internal call and curbed his response to something resembling courtesy. Instead of a snarled out, "Yeah," he managed, "Whitworth," but it was difficult to do as he stared at Barbara's come-drooling pussy. Damn, that looks sexy, he thought.

"Sir, this is Art. I have something that might be important. Could I..."

"Come on," Whitworth said in a somewhat reasonable voice. Ending the call, he grabbed a pair of fatigue pants and pulled them on. Fuck dressing. Pants are good enough for now. As soon as I get rid of him, I'm going to have some more of that pussy. What the fuck is so important this time of night, anyway?

Art, his arm around Hope as she stood holding her sketch, rapped twice on the outer door of the General's suite. A split second later, Whitworth, dressed only in fatigue pants, jerked the door open, not expecting anyone but Art. His hairy chest matted with sweat, smelling of sex, the big man stood frozen for a second.

Diana had told Hope that enhanced Alphas could blush, and she had seen Art blush, and the others on occasion, but Hope surely hadn't expected to see the General do it, and certainly not to this extent. The flush started in his face and crept downward across his neck and into his chest, a deep, dusky red.

Whitworth stood staring at the cute, innocent-appearing sixteen-year-old bride looking back at him. Art could have sworn that the General wanted to run. "Uh," Whitworth got out before Art broke in.

"Sir, sorry to bother you, but you were insistent that I get in touch with you immediately if I thought of anything that might be of importance." Going on, he told Whitworth about remembering, and Hope, now blushing almost as much as the General, handed him her sketch.

"I'm sorry, Sir..." Art began.

"Nonsense, Son. You did exactly what I told you to do. I'll get this processed." Focusing on Hope, "Thank you, young lady. This is a beautiful sketch. Truly the work of a master. And ... I apologize for my appearance. I didn't expect you to be here when I opened the door."

Hope was shaking her head, and said with an adult flair that amazed the General and made Art proud, "Your mode of dress is entirely appropriate under the circumstances. We hope the sketch will be of value to your investigation."

As they turned to go back to their suite, Art wondered, Where did that come from? as he glanced at his pretty wife. Maybe she's really coming back from all the bad that's happened to her. She surely did sound confident just then ... and adult.

"I'm proud of you," he told her as they entered their suite.

"For what?"

"Well, for everything. First of all, for the wonderful sketch you did, and also, for not getting flustered when the General opened the door after ... Well, it was obvious what he had been doing."

"And what are we going to be doing a few minutes from now?" she asked with a little giggle.

"Probably about the same thing," he laughed, hugging her tightly against him as they went on into their bedroom.

After they had eaten and returned from the kitchen, Matt again sat on one of the couches in his suite's sitting room with Courtney and Bridget snuggled against him. His cock had been erect so long it hurt no matter how he adjusted it in his pants. In her prolonged excitement, milk from Courtney's braless breasts had spotted her top. Matt had scrupulously held back his pheromones, but making out with the two sexy women had left all three people in a state of high arousal.

Bridget was trembling with desire when the Alpha leaned back, took a deep breath and said, "Ladies, we have to stop. I'm just a guy, and this is more than I can stand. If we don't stop now, I'm going to do something that we may all regret come morning." Putting a couple fingers under Bridget's chin, he again touched his lips very gently to hers, then continued, "You're beautiful, and sexy as can be. Never doubt that. But we've only known each other for a couple of days. If I take you into that bedroom and make love to you for the next several hours, what are you going to think come morning, hmmm?"

Bridget looked at him as she tried to suppress a giggle at the serious expression on his face. "I guess I would still be in a state of shock, just like I've been in all day. And ... I might be sore, come to think of it," she finished as she glanced at the bulge in his jeans, knowing that wasn't what he expected to hear, then added, "Well, judging from that bulge in your pants, maybe a lot sore."

"You're not helping much," he tried to grump.

Courtney leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Matt, Bridget is ready, and I'm certainly ready for you to make love to her. We have all night, and if she is too sore in the morning, Little One should be able to heal her."

"Oh, fuck," Matt sighed, forgetting to watch his mouth around Bridget. Leaning back, he continued, "It's the woman who is supposed to be the one to hold back, and the guy is supposed to keep trying to get into her pants." Addressing his wife, "I feel like pulling my hair out; I want the two of you so badly, but I don't want to take the chance that Bridget will regret this tomorrow, not to say anything about what you may be thinking in the morning." Turning back to Bridget, "I'm way too old for you. Hell, I'm almost twice your age..."

Courtney broke in. "And with the enhancement, that means absolutely nothing. You're an Alpha. Diana says that Alphas tend to 'call' their women. Jeff referred to it as a bond that works both ways. Whatever. Just look at her. Can you honestly tell me she isn't in love with you, or that you're not in love with her?"