Read Online Dawn Endeavor 2: Hayashi's Hero by Marie Harte - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marie Harte
Tags: Multiple Partners
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once he finished with them they'd go to sexuality at its basest, and that wasn't taking Montaña's sick desires into account.
The rogue Circs he kept for security purposes took a lot of maintenance. But with them in hand, he didn't worry about Hawkins and his fucking team every other second of the day. Being in the States bothered him. He wanted to remain at home, in his newly renovated mansion in Rio.
But orders were orders, and his boss wanted him to be hands-on with this new delivery.
Unfortunately, manufacturing and moving their new wonder drug took longer than expected, despite the plan to make it on U.S. soil. “You'll see,” Montaña had promised. “Making it here will expedite cost and time.”
“Expedite, my ass,” Delancy muttered and injected himself with another dose of Montaña's special stuff. Since they'd improved the formula, it no longer put those who took it in a coma, nor did it kill. The shit worked better than Viagra and gave him the ability to jack off 24-7, which came in handy at his age. Hell, his business partner was better than a pharmacy. Montaña had something for every ailment under the sun. And this one would nullify the psychics Admiral London promised would be the new best thing in warfare.
Personally, Delancey didn't know what to think about Admiral London's knew psychic guinea pigs. Project Dawn had bombed, big-time. Maybe two percent of the Circs they'd created remained stable. Doc Dennis's men and his own team— ex -team. The rest turned psychotic in less than a year, even under their new controls. Sex and violence seemed to keep the rogues calm, at least for a time, but it always ended the same way. A frenzied rampage of murder and rape, followed by a bullet to the brain. Such a waste of a lucrative resource.
Delancey had known the project would tank after the first few test runs. But he was a man with aspirations. So what if a few of Uncle Sam's finest took a hit? Sacrifice was a part of duty, and Delancey stood to make a fortune farming rogue Circs to foreign governments.
Too bad moral dickheads like Hawkins had to stick their noses where they didn't belong.
Along with everything else Delancey had been promised by that asshole in charge of the Circ project, the plan to kill Hawkins and the others had failed. The navy had turned their suspicious eyes on him. Thankfully, his contact had shielded him from the worst of it and directed him to another profitable scheme: new drugs that could instill instances of psychic ability in normal users while hurting actual psychics with inherent ability. Delancey smacked his lips. That was some seriously good shit, and it fucked up Admiral London's plans. A two-for-one. It should have been perfect.
Except this scheme involved South American mercenaries, oddball psychics, and Ricardo Montaña, a monster in human skin.
He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door and tried to ignore the screams Montaña never failed to produce out of his bedmates. “Pablo, turn up the music.” Pablo nodded, and the techno beat amped through the speakers. The young mercenary/crewman returned to the bar but kept a watchful eye on the nubile women.
Annoyed by a present he was forced to deal with and a past he couldn't rectify, Delancey motioned to one of the dancers. Her tits didn't sway as she moved, so firm and round and young .
A familiar hunger returned, and with it came a haze of something more. Ah, the wonder drug had finally taken effect.
“Come here and get me off, honey. I need to forget for a while.” The woman crossed the distance, knelt between his legs, and serviced him like a pro while her friend continued to gyrate to the heavy beat. The music pulsed in time with his cock, and for a few minutes, Delancey lost himself in a desire that didn't last long enough.
The price of pleasure, he thought as he spurted into the woman's mouth. A vision of bright skies and calm seas filled his mind's eye. He jerked as the woman swallowed him, and
The rogue Circs he kept for security purposes took a lot of maintenance. But with them in hand, he didn't worry about Hawkins and his fucking team every other second of the day. Being in the States bothered him. He wanted to remain at home, in his newly renovated mansion in Rio.
But orders were orders, and his boss wanted him to be hands-on with this new delivery.
Unfortunately, manufacturing and moving their new wonder drug took longer than expected, despite the plan to make it on U.S. soil. “You'll see,” Montaña had promised. “Making it here will expedite cost and time.”
“Expedite, my ass,” Delancy muttered and injected himself with another dose of Montaña's special stuff. Since they'd improved the formula, it no longer put those who took it in a coma, nor did it kill. The shit worked better than Viagra and gave him the ability to jack off 24-7, which came in handy at his age. Hell, his business partner was better than a pharmacy. Montaña had something for every ailment under the sun. And this one would nullify the psychics Admiral London promised would be the new best thing in warfare.
Personally, Delancey didn't know what to think about Admiral London's knew psychic guinea pigs. Project Dawn had bombed, big-time. Maybe two percent of the Circs they'd created remained stable. Doc Dennis's men and his own team— ex -team. The rest turned psychotic in less than a year, even under their new controls. Sex and violence seemed to keep the rogues calm, at least for a time, but it always ended the same way. A frenzied rampage of murder and rape, followed by a bullet to the brain. Such a waste of a lucrative resource.
Delancey had known the project would tank after the first few test runs. But he was a man with aspirations. So what if a few of Uncle Sam's finest took a hit? Sacrifice was a part of duty, and Delancey stood to make a fortune farming rogue Circs to foreign governments.
Too bad moral dickheads like Hawkins had to stick their noses where they didn't belong.
Along with everything else Delancey had been promised by that asshole in charge of the Circ project, the plan to kill Hawkins and the others had failed. The navy had turned their suspicious eyes on him. Thankfully, his contact had shielded him from the worst of it and directed him to another profitable scheme: new drugs that could instill instances of psychic ability in normal users while hurting actual psychics with inherent ability. Delancey smacked his lips. That was some seriously good shit, and it fucked up Admiral London's plans. A two-for-one. It should have been perfect.
Except this scheme involved South American mercenaries, oddball psychics, and Ricardo Montaña, a monster in human skin.
He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door and tried to ignore the screams Montaña never failed to produce out of his bedmates. “Pablo, turn up the music.” Pablo nodded, and the techno beat amped through the speakers. The young mercenary/crewman returned to the bar but kept a watchful eye on the nubile women.
Annoyed by a present he was forced to deal with and a past he couldn't rectify, Delancey motioned to one of the dancers. Her tits didn't sway as she moved, so firm and round and young .
A familiar hunger returned, and with it came a haze of something more. Ah, the wonder drug had finally taken effect.
“Come here and get me off, honey. I need to forget for a while.” The woman crossed the distance, knelt between his legs, and serviced him like a pro while her friend continued to gyrate to the heavy beat. The music pulsed in time with his cock, and for a few minutes, Delancey lost himself in a desire that didn't last long enough.
The price of pleasure, he thought as he spurted into the woman's mouth. A vision of bright skies and calm seas filled his mind's eye. He jerked as the woman swallowed him, and
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