Heroes David Hagberg (best motivational books TXT) 📖

For her, the downward path came with the deaths of her grandparents. To fill the gap they left behind, she had joined the Bund in Milwaukee.

For him. it came on the day he joined the Nazi party and began his training at Park Zorgvliet for his infiltration into the United

States. His father wanted him to be a soldier. A moderate. He shook his head.

“What are you smiling about?” Eva asked.

Schey opened his eyes. She switched the light out, but there was enough coming from the open curtains at the window to see that she was nude.

“I was thinking about my father,” he said softly. Eva was lovely. Her breasts were large and well-formed, her legs long and straight, and the tuft of hair at her pubis very blonde.

“I never rode first-class on a train like this,” she said.

Schey lay on the top bunk. He threw the covers back. Eva grinned, came across the tiny compartment, and climbed up with him, her skin soft and a lovely, clean odor coming from her.

He held her close.

“We’ve got this night, at least,” she said, her voice husky.

He looked into her large, liquid eyes. Her nostrils were flared, her lips wet. Her face was slightly tanned from the New Mexican sun. It contrasted nicely with her blonde hair.

“I love you,” he said to her.

Her eyes filled. “I love you, too, Bobby, but I’m frightened.”

He stroked her hair. “It’ll be hard, getting back. But the war will be over pretty soon. Then we’ll be able to settle down.”

She wanted to believe him. It was obvious from her expression.

But it was also clear that she was very frightened. She shivered, and he pulled her close again, her breasts crushed against his chest, her legs entwined with his.

“Oh … Christ … I don’t want this to end,” she cried.

She was kissing him, her mouth exploring his, her hands fluttering over his shoulders and his back, drawing him even closer, holding him so tightly that at times he could feel her heart beating.

Later, he gently pushed her back, kissed her chin, her neck, then her breasts, taking each nipple between his lips, his tongue making a circular pattern on the areola.

She moaned and arched her back as he slid lower, kissing the gentle rise of her belly, his tongue flicking suggestively in and out of her navel.

“Bobby?” she called softly. She reached down and took his head in her hands, and raised him away so that she could look into his eyes.

He smiled at her. This was so good he never wanted to stop.

“I can’t wait. I love you. I love you …”

He turned and kissed the palm of her right hand, then slid down lower, his lips brushing her inner thighs, and she flinched.

Then his tongue was inside her, parting her lips, making circular motions around her clitoris. She wanted to jump out of her skin. The pleasure was so intense it was nearly painful. But then he took the tiny organ in his lips and drew it in, her entire body rising off the bed, the sensation was so intense.

“Bobby …“the involuntary cry escaped from her throat.

He slid it slowly back and forth between his lips, even the tiniest of motions causing wave after wave of pleasure to course through her body. She was coming again and again, each time not quite completely, but each wave more intensely pleasurable than the last.

Suddenly he was on top of her, and inside her, deep inside.

Eva looked up into Schey’s open eyes. She could see that he was lost in his pleasure. It was the first time that he had lost himself so completely, and her love for him rose like a huge ocean wave—a tidal wave that could not possibly leave her unchanged. And he was coming; she could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the thrum of his body, and she could sense it between her legs. He did love her, and it was all she needed.

It was cold and raining in Chicago when they arrived. They were an hour and a half late because of some delay in Iowa during the night. Instead of a two and a half hour layover for the Twentieth Century, they now had slightly less than an hour.

Their porter helped them with their bags. Schey slipped him fifty dollars. He knew it was far too much, but the man had shown them kindness. At the moment, in the present world situation, it was rare.

They transferred over to the Twentieth Century, a sleek, long train with silver Pullman cars and brisk, efficient, even somewhat haughty porters who installed them in their spacious first-class compartment.

They had coffee, and before they were finished, the train was pulling out for the long sweep around Lake Michigan, then east toward New York, the western hospitality they had enjoyed on the Denver train now replaced with an eastern efficiency that would brook no delays.

Last night they had been tired and had been glad of the inactivity. But as they rolled across the Illinois and Indiana farmlands, Schey was impatient to get on with it.

“How long will it take for us to make contact in New York?” Eva asked at one point.

Schey had been smoking and staring out the window. “That depends,” he said absently.

“On what?”

He looked at her. “On whether or not he’s been compromised.”

“What if he has been … compromised? Or what if the FBI has somehow traced us to this train? What then?”

Schey resisted the urge to snap at her. He counted three before he answered. “I don’t know, Eva. We’ll just have to see.” 1 “Play it by ear?”

He smiled. “Play it by ear.” He looked again out the window at the flat and, to him, mostly featureless land. A little farther to the east and they would be passing through the heart of industrial America. It was not so concentrated as the factories and mills in the Ruhr, but it was large, powerful, and