“No. No. This is unacceptable.” She scooted backward and started in on the button and zipper of his jeans, tearing his pants open. “I am not doing this now.”
“Ros. I’m serious. I’m trying to do the right thing here! For once,” he finished bitterly.
“No.”
“Ros. Wait.” He waved his hands in the air and she ignored them.
“You picked the wrong time, buddy.” Grabbing two handfuls of denim, she dragged them down his thighs, freeing up the essentials. And the essentials were unperturbed by his bullshit, serious-relationship, ill-timed nonsense. It was the first time she’d come this close to his cock. Well, face-to-cock, as opposed to having him inside her. He looked to be just the right size, long and thick with veins wending up his length. The man had a rather attractive appendage, actually. She wrapped her hands around his hard length, testing the feel of him. Taking her time to learn him.
“I like this,” she said.
His mouth opened, so she stuffed hers full of his c**k and sucked. No more excuses. No more talking. He tasted wonderful and felt even better, with silken smooth, salty-tasting skin over such solid flesh. Creamy pr**cum trickled onto her tongue. His hands cradled her head and fingers sunk into her hair. Nothing mattered but her hunger for him.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Sweetheart.”
She took him deeper then pulled back, drawing on him fiercely. The encouraging hands in her hair calmed her down some, signalling his capitulation to her. She massaged his sweet spot with the tip of her tongue and he groaned, stomach muscles clenching.
“You win,” he said.
Which was really all she needed.
His c**k slipped from her mouth with a wet pop and she crawled up his body, covering him with kisses as she went, from those hot muscles that delineated his h*ps to his neat belly button, his pecs and the flat discs of his ni**les. The crook of his neck smelled divine; she could kiss and lick him there all night.
Amongst other things.
“What were you thinking?” she asked, tickling the rim of his right ear with her tongue.
“I don’t have a f**king clue.”
The heat of his c**k filled her hand and she fit him to the wet lips of her sex. Slowly, gently she took him inside. He seemed to need gentle now. Giving in didn’t really suit him.
The worried expression gave way to ecstasy as she worked herself onto him. His lips parted and teeth clenched.
“Are you wet enough?” he asked and she nodded.
Wet and determined. The push of him into her pu**y felt wonderful. Hard and fast was fun, too, but they’d been a bit out-of-control crazy last time. This time she could savor the experience, the feel of him stretching her, filling her until finally her body rested against his pelvis. In this position, every time she rocked back against him her cl*t rubbed against his body in the best way. Pressure could be the most amazing thing.
“Oh, that’s nice,” she murmured.
She kissed the side of his face and the bristle of his short beard. Talk about an intriguing sensation. Having him go down on her sometime hit the top of her to-do list. Capable hands smoothed over her sides and slid around to cup her br**sts. He teased her ni**les, rolling them between his fingers—and damn, sensation shot straight through her spine. Her inner muscles grabbed at him and they both moaned. But she kept the pace lazy, indolent. A struggle, but well worth it. Fucking him like this had to be the most pleasant indulgence ever, shitty motel room and end of the world be damned.
“Does it feel like we’re in a relationship now?”
He chuckled. “Yes. It does.”
“Good. It does for me too.”
She sat up higher, her hands braced on the mattress beside his head. Nice to give him room to maneuver, but even nicer to add a swivel to her h*ps and gauge his reaction. His eyes widened and his c**k bumped against something awful good inside her. Holy hell. Pleasure flooded her until her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. They needed to do that again and again.
Oh, yeah. Everything in her tightened in anticipation. They were right where they needed to be. She was right where she need to be, with him.
She picked up the pace, taking him harder. Heavy breathing and the slap of flesh meeting flesh filled her ears. His hands seemed to be everywhere, all over her, working her into a fever. Fingers lightly pinched her ni**les and stroked her thighs. Their bodies knew each other just fine, knew exactly how to get where they needed to go. Her movements grew frantic, faster and harder. He stared up at her and she stared right back, unwilling to break the spell.
Until she couldn’t see any longer.
Gray blurred her vision and her cunt clenched at him, waves of the most astonishing sensation washing through her. Hard hands gripped her hips, kept her moving when she faltered.
Her heart stopped; she could feel it. Her head fell forward and her body jerked atop him. Nick pounded into her, again and again, fingers sunk into her flesh. His c**k surged into her and she felt him explode. The heat of his come filling her. He groaned and held her tightly, keeping her in place until he finished.
She lay down on his chest, or maybe she fell. The sweat on her back chilled as her body cooled. Her front stayed toasty warm, heated by him, but her spine was another matter. Pity she couldn’t bring herself to move.
Nick shifted a bit and drew up the covers. That was good. He reached over and pinched out the last candle on the bedside table.
His arms surrounded her.
Something moaned from out in the parking lot and she shivered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Fuck.” Nick pulled the pickup to the side of the road out of habit more than anything. It wasn’t like anyone would need to pass.
The front half of the huge plane sat embedded in a house, torn apart on impact. Bits of blackened metal were strewn across the road in front of them. Its ass was a burned-out husk in the garage across the road. Little remained of the actual brick and tile dwelling the Hercules had hit, the walls having caved in around the wreckage. The Humvee it had been carrying lay further down the street, smashed to smithereens. Bodies were scattered around, most of them too badly decomposed to be identifiable. But their equipment he recognized just fine. These boys had been Special Forces. The Minimis, M4s and other fancy toys confirmed it. All of it was the sort of stuff that would be useful for buying Roslyn’s way into Blackstone.
“There’s something you don’t see every day,” Roslyn said, gaping at the wreckage.
“This isn’t going to be pretty. But I’ll feel better if we have more weaponry.” He’d also feel better if she kept her lovely self in the car, but small chance of that.