Chapter Two
“Jesus Christ,” Sean said for the third time.
“You haven’t done anything but take the Lord’s name in vain since we left that place,” Dylan said from the back seat.
Ben kept his eyes glued to the road leading out of Mississippi, but he wasn’t seeing the landscape. His mind was back on that compound he and his brothers had just raided, just like Sean’s was.
He threw his kid brother a look. It was bad enough he felt responsible for the well-being—and that included mental health—of his team, but he didn’t want to fuck up his brother for life. And the shit they’d just seen and done was the stuff of nightmares.
“Can we stop for food?” Chaz asked.
Ben glanced in the rearview mirror at the wall of flesh taking up every corner of the SUV. At least the colonel had given them a vehicle big enough for all of the Knights to fit in, which was no small feat. They were all huge, except the youngest, Rhoades, who wasn’t even a fucking man. Though he was rivaling even Ben for height, leaving him thinking Rhoades just may be the biggest Knight by the time he filled out in the shoulders.
“Guys, I gotta take a piss. This ride’s smooth, but the shocks aren’t that great way back here,” Chaz said.
“This is just like a fucking family road trip,” Ben grumbled. “Where would you like me to stop? We’re in butt-fuck M’ss’ssippi.” Slurring the word, he waved at the windshield, which was nothing but road and scrubby trees on either side.
“I can take a leak anywhere, but I’m willin’ to wait on the food.” Chaz’s teeth flashed white through the fading evening light filtering through the tinted windows.
“Fine, I’ll stop. Any of you other motherfuckers have to take a piss, now’s your time, because I’m not stopping again until I get out of this godforsaken state.” Ben veered off the highway near a cluster of trees and threw the SUV into park. As his brothers climbed out and lined up along the road to take a whiz, Ben and Sean remained.
“That was fucking insane back there,” Sean said quietly.
“No shit.”
“Did you know what we were walking into?”
“Hell no. I knew the same as you—that we were raiding a compound with some couyon homegrown terrorist who had too much explosive on site and a lot of people following his gospel.”
Sean nodded at the reference to the guy being crazy as Chaz bounced into the back seat again. “What are we talkin’ about?”
Neither answered.
“Now c’mon, guys. No secrets in Knight Ops.” How the hell Chaz managed to smile after seeing what they had and doing what they’d done, Ben had no fucking clue. He must be a better Marine than him.
But he straightened at what he’d said. “Knight Ops?”
“Yeah, fits, don’t ya think?”
The rest of the brothers piled in. Ben got on the road.
This wasn’t the first time he’d led men to do unspeakable acts, and following those moments, he’d debriefed each one, letting them tell their side of the story. There was a healing in the speaking of things.
“All right, guys, I need to know everything you did, said and thought. Starting with Chaz.”
Silence descended.
“You want us to tell you what happened back there, Ben? I’m pretty sure it was you picking up those dead bodies too,” Rhoades said.
He shook himself. “Yeah, I remember and likely will for a long time. Which is why we’re discussing it. Then we’re going to cross the Louisiana border, get us some grits and crawfish. After that, we’re going to find a way to decompress. I don’t give a shit if you find a hooker. Just get this out of your system, starting now.”
His tone laid down the law, and Chaz started talking. Each of them added on to the story, one by one, until it all came out. Crazy homegrown terrorist with two hundred followers locked in his compound, “testing” his new street drug and listening to his word about the world being against them. Chaz and Dylan had taken the back door and located enough explosives to wipe the small town off the Mississippi map and leave a crater the size of the Grand Canyon.
Then Ben and the rest had stormed the front and walked in on what seemed at first to be a party. Except all the guests were twitching like zombies, jaws slack and eyes vacant. Within seconds of entering the compound, the crazy leader had stepped out with an automatic and explosives strapped to him like a vest.
Ben and his brothers had taken the man and disarmed the bomb he wore in seconds, but the dancers kept dancing, oblivious to their surroundings. Until they all fell down and croaked, that was.
He swiped a hand over his face, unable to stop seeing the unnatural movements of those people even in the throes of death.
Suddenly, he knew how he was going to unwind. The only way to erase the memory was to see people dance to real music and not whatever they heard in their heads after taking a shitload of poison.
And maybe find a woman or five to fuck. Yeah, an orgy sounded real good right about now. After those grits, of course.
Telling their story had the exact effect Ben had hoped for. The guys were laughing and joking. Dylan had ripped a fart and they were all diving for their windows to get fresh air.
Sean was even sporting a crooked grin. “You’re right, Ben. It’s just like a family road trip. Maman would be proud.”
“I’m sure,” Ben said dryly as they stuck their heads out their windows again. Dylan sat there grinning at his accomplishment, all of them much lighter than they’d been ten minutes before.
“Look at all Rocko missed. When is our sixth man joining us anyway?” Roades asked about Rockingham.
Ben glanced in the rearview mirror at him. “Soon. He was delayed getting out of the country.”
Sean twisted in his seat. “So what’s the plan, guys? The cabin’s not far over the state line. I say we stop for supplies and hole up there for a few days. Fish, catch some gators. Drink beer.”
“You guys can. But I’m going back to New Orleans,” Ben drawled, not taking his gaze off the highway.
“What’s in New Orleans? You got some pussy?”
“A lot of pussy in New Orleans for the Knights,” Ben said, his own lips quirking slightly at one corner. “But no. Just gotta see something. I’ll drop you guys off and take that old motorcycle in, leave you the Knight bus to get back home.”
They all laughed at his referral to the vehicle. When they passed the sign for the state line, a cheer went up, and Ben pulled into the first roadside food joint he saw.
They drew a lot of stares as they packed away enough rations for a whole platoon of Marines and then piled back into the SUV and headed to the cabin. The sight and smell of the swamp conjured good feelings of homecoming, and Ben was feeling slightly lighter by the time he dropped off his brothers and kickstarted the old bike.
He took the roads at top speed, leaning hard into the curves, letting the cool air wash over his face and hoping it erased more of the crap collected in his brain after the day’s events.
Somehow, his thoughts revolved back to Dahlia. The woman had gotten in his blood after just one night, and he wanted a second night just to see if he was entertaining a fantasy rather than reality. She couldn’t be that good.
His mind wandered all over those curves. Ripe breasts and hips a man could grab onto, ankles that had made a good starting point for kissing and movie-star plump lips to end at. Everything between was délicieux.
By the time he rolled into the parking lot of the club, his cock was already hard. He swung his leg over the bike and crossed the gravel to the door, the bass of the music greeting him. It was only Wednesday, but Cajuns knew how to get their party on. They’d invented the fais do-do.
He paused with his fingers on the handle, the bass vibrating into his hand. All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if seeing people dancing was what he needed, after all. After that brisk drive home, he was feeling half-human again. He didn’t need to blur the lines between what he’d seen with the zombie dancers back in the compound and the real-life ones here in the club where he’d found Dahlia months ago.
Dahlia.
He yanked open the door and stepped into the packed house. People bumped into him from every side as he strode straight to the bar, not looking around. He needed to wrap his fingers around a glass of whiskey—fast.
When he reached the bar, the bartender lifted his jaw in greeting. “What can I get ya?”
“Dewars.”
The guy dropped him a wink and grabbed the bottle and a glass.
Ben didn’t know what to think about the wink, but right now all he wanted was the slow burn of alcohol sliding down his gullet.
He knocked back the whiskey and asked for another. This request didn’t earn him another wink, but he wasn’t looking for friendship. Cradling the glass, he turned to face the room.
For a second, he feared staring at the dancers on the crowded floor would conjure visions of the zombie dancers falling over and convulsing as the poison claimed them. But to his immeasurable relief, he only saw happy people getting their party on.
The alcohol was working its way into his system and he felt the tense pull of the muscles in his shoulders begin to relax. The Cajun hillbilly music had some odd techno infusion, but Ben didn’t give a damn what was playing, as long as it wasn’t silent.
He stood at the side of the floor, watching pretty girls moving with their pretty friends, sparkly tops reflecting the lights. Couples bobbed to the beat, standing close with their heads together, talking over the music.
Ben was happy to be off the job and away from his brothers, who’d surely be setting up poles for night fishing and cracking open some beers right about now.
His gaze roamed around the room, moving from one face to the next. It only took him a few before he realized he was only searching out dark-haired women.
If he found her, he didn’t know how she’d even react to seeing him. He’d never looked her up and had left her sleeping with only a note of farewell. Why hadn’t he contacted her again? He knew where she lived. Sure, he had a reputation for loving and leaving women with no remorse and hardly a backward glance as he left their beds, but his thoughts had returned to Dahlia—a lot.
What were the chances he’d see her again tonight? He was a fool, but that didn’t stop him from seeking out the next head of rich black hair in the crowd.
After he disregarded half a dozen more women, his heart gave a hard jerk against his ribs.
Could that be?
He circled the crowd to get a better look. Too many bodies in the way. He’d have to go in.
Carrying his drink, he stepped onto the floor, his gaze trained on the spot where he’d seen the dark beauty. She was wearing a deep red top, a color that was too close to what Dahlia had been wearing when he’d seen her last.
Actually, he’d seen that red top wadded up half under her bed on his way out, but that was beside the point.
Someone jostled him from behind, and the whiskey in the bottom of his glass sloshed over his fingers. He raised the glass and swallowed the rest and then passed his empty glass to a dancer.
She looked at it, back to him, smiled and continued dancing, still holding the glass.
Ben placed his hand on a guy’s shoulder and moved him aside so he could pass. By the time he reached the spot where he’d seen the woman, she was no longer standing there.
He was tall, had the advantage at six-three of towering over most men. But Dahlia was much more petite and could easily be hidden by so many bodies. If she was here at all.
Last time they’d been together, he’d been coming off his stint in North Korea. Missions didn’t make him flighty—coming back and joining civilization did. He had trouble transitioning, working out how he fit in after the shit he’d seen or done. Tonight being the perfect example.
His mind had been pretty blown up with details of the mission, and Dahlia had managed to wipe it to a blank slate with a single stroke of her silky-soft, talented fingers. Not to mention that sweet mouth and all the things it was capable of.
Great, now he was sporting wood again. He stepped around a group of dancers and spotted the dark hair that had fallen like a sheet around them as she rode him well into the night. The curve of creamy shoulder.
He closed his fingers on that shoulder and she spun to him, tipping her head all the way back to see his face.
Arousal hit his system like a fucking SS missile, along with a blast of something that felt uncomfortably like relief. Her eyes were the same deep chocolate that he’d fallen into before, and no, nothing about her appearance had been exaggerated by his brain. She was even more beautiful, if that was possible.
He breathed out a word, knowing she wouldn’t hear above the music, but he needed to say it anyway. “Dahlia.”
* * * * *
All night long, Dahlia’d been giving herself pep talks. She was not going to see Ben, so just forget it. She wasn’t here to go home with somebody, only to meet a few new people to hang with and fill her boring evening.
Now he was standing right in front of her, looking bigger, stronger and more bad-ass than she remembered.
Before she could overcome the reaction of her body at seeing him, she caught a whiff of his aftershave, though he didn’t appear to have shaved in a week. She’d stopped dancing and stood there stupidly staring up at him. They were the only two people on the dance floor standing dead still.
He still held onto her shoulder and squeezed it as he leaned in. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Not “Can we talk about me leaving before you woke.” Not “I never even asked for your number.”
She gave herself the fifth pep talk of the night. You’re not going home with Ben.
But her body had other ideas, if the heat pooling in her lower belly and slipping down between her legs was any indication.
She nodded. and he didn’t hesitate. Sliding his hand down her arm, he caught her by the hand and towed her through the group of people. If she’d tried to leave the dance floor on her own, it would have taken her fifteen minutes of pushing and excusing herself to get by, but the mass parted for Ben and closed the gap behind her.
Her mind was going haywire with the messages it was receiving. Her body was already screaming to be with this huge Cajun. To have him backing her against a wall and hemming her in with his broad chest. Crushing her lips beneath his, taking control as he had all those months ago.
But her brain was trying to wrap itself around some logic. She wasn’t sleeping with him again. No way. She had some self-respect, and while they’d both enjoyed the experience—well at least she thought he had—she wasn’t going for round two.
He led her to the back of the club where you could hold a conversation, but all the tables were full. Instead of turning around like any other human on the planet, Ben marched up to a table and flicked his head at the patrons.
They stared at him for a second before getting up and leaving.
Holy shit. That was arrogant as hell.
And it had worked.
The man was very different from anybody she’d ever known, which was saying a lot since she’d grown up with a father in the military.
Ben turned to her, eyes burning. More green than hazel, she remembered, but tonight they looked darker. Maybe it was the club lighting or the way they burned when he stared down at her.
He waved a hand for her to sit and after she did, he hovered over her, his mouth close to her ear. “I’ll get us drinks.”
Damn, her reaction time was slow tonight. If she didn’t know better, she’d think herself concussed.
Oh, she had been hit in the head, all right. Struck stupid by a hot man who’d done things to her body that—
Before she could complete the thought, Ben was back, setting two drinks on the table and then taking his seat across from her.
She blinked at the drinks. “How did you get to the bar that fast? It’s way up front.”
“I didn’t. I took these off the waitress. I hope you don’t mind Sazerac.”
She shook her head. The drink was undeniably New Orleans, the equivalent of a whiskey cocktail. She lifted her gaze to his, and electric sparks flew between them.
Fuck, she was hoping that life-shattering attraction wouldn’t be present between them, but it was already smoldering.
Ben sat straight in his seat, gaze moving over her face and hair, over her shoulders and down to her breasts then back up to meet her eyes. “I didn’t know if I’d find you here tonight. I haven’t been back since we met.”
“I haven’t been back either.”
His eyes hooded. Need spiked in her core. He was looking at her the same way he had right before he’d stripped her. She’d never forget it, and her body sure wasn’t letting her now.
To cover the quiver in her belly, she picked up her drink. The cognac slipped down her throat, a warm burn all the way to her stomach. When she ran her tongue over her lips to gather the drops off, his gaze shot to her mouth and locked there.
The quiver amplified.
“Damn, it’s good to set eyes on you.” His gruff voice barely projected over the noise of the club, but she heard, her every sense attuned to this man. He didn’t touch his drink, but she needed more liquid fortification.
Taking another sip, she floundered for something to say to him. When she lowered the glass, she managed, “Why did you come here tonight if you haven’t been here besides that once?”
His stare pinned her. “To find you.”
Oh God. A wave of lust and dizziness struck her, knocking her off-kilter. At this rate, she’d be flat on her back with her legs in the air, screaming Ben’s name in minutes.
“Why did you come here tonight if you haven’t been back either?” he asked in that warm, buttery, low drawl.
She directed a lock of dark hair over her shoulder and fought to be one of those cool women who never comes off as silly or stupid. Even though Dahlia wasn’t one of them.
“I needed to unwind tonight.”
His eyes sparked, tiny creases appearing around each. “So do I. What a coincidence.”
She reached for her drink again, but he removed it from her clutch and wrapped her fingers gently in his big, rough hand. If she stood up, she’d be so embarrassed, because she was sure her panties had just gone up in flames and all the ash would fall out from under her skirt.
9-1-1, what’s your call?
I just melted my panties. I think I’m spontaneously combusting. Please send help.
But who could help her? Under Ben’s steady, smoldering stare, with her hand firmly enclosed in his, she had no choice but to follow her instincts.
And sleep with the man.
No, no—to get up and leave. She’d come to the club to unwind and now she was more high-strung than when she’d arrived.
“All I have is my bike, but there’s a helmet for you. If you’ll come with me.”
She shook her head, an action that was becoming habit around him. He probably thought her simple-minded. They hadn’t exactly exchanged a lot of words the first time around. Saliva, yes.
He reached out and snagged her other hand, holding her captive by his gaze and his touch. “Dahlia, I need you tonight.”
Oh fuck.
“Will you let me take you home again? I promise we’ll come back for your car in the morning.”
There it was, the promise for more than waking to find your new lover gone. There would be a morning, which meant coffee, conversation, the possibility of a shower and…
Her mind was running away with her. She hadn’t agreed to leaving with him.
He stroked his thumb up and down hers, circling the base in an insinuative way that had her conjuring flashes of memories of his touch all over her and his mouth slanting across hers as he sank deep into her again and again in a series of sexy man pushups.
“Dahlia,” he said quietly, cocking his head and his brow at her, “don’t make me beg.”
At that, she laughed, the sound throaty from the cognac and desire. “As if a man like you begs.”
“I can beg, but I don’t want to. Just walk out that door with me, get on the back of my bike and wrap your sweet legs around me. We’ll go back to your place and I’ll show you how sorry I am for leaving in such a hurry before.”
She didn’t believe for a moment that he had a reason—she figured loving and leaving was his way. He was a playboy—his amount of game made that clear. Nobody used his eyes and words and touch like this without practice.
He drew small circles up her thumb to her nail and looked deep into her eyes. “C’mon.” Without waiting for her answer, as if knowing she was already caving, he stood and drew her out of her seat. When he slid an arm around her waist and led her out of the club, it took her mind several seconds to catch up. As the cooler night air hit her hot face and the thrum of bass in her ears quieted, she realized he’d gotten her outside.
What a fool she was. She stopped walking.
“Good idea.” He planted his hands on her waist and dragged her against his steely chest as he slammed his mouth over hers. He kissed like he did everything else—with total command. Her body was at his mercy as he kissed the hell out of her.
“Ben…” she murmured between sweeps of his tongue that had her toes curling in her high heels.
He drew back, face in shadow, but she saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I’ve been thinking about you every day since we were together.”
Stunned by his words, she blinked up at him. What could she say to that? The only thing on the tip of her tongue was that he’d popped into her head every day too, but she couldn’t admit that, could she?
Though he just had.
If they were laying it all out on the line, she had one thing on her mind. “How can I ride a motorcycle in a skirt?”
He dipped his gaze over her body, leaving a trail of warm, sticky honey behind. “We could take it off first.”
A laugh escaped her, just as throaty as before. “I don’t think so. This is the party capital of the world, but I think the police would frown on a naked woman riding on the back of a bike unless it’s Mardi Gras.”
“Well, cher,” he drawled, pressing closer to her and planting his hand on her buttocks to keep her in place, “you’ve had me between your thighs before. Call it a warmup.”
She shivered at his words, and when he caressed her ass, hiking up the fabric of her skirt as he did, she nearly came on the spot.
He did that incredibly hot maneuver again where he leaned close to speak into her ear without turning his lips to it. “What do you say?”
She felt herself nod.
Walking across gravel in heels was never an easy task, let alone when one had knees of jelly. Why the club didn’t pave the parking lot was beyond her, probably thought it lent to the authenticity or something.
Dahlia could barely remain upright but somehow made it to his bike. She expected something polished, shiny and new. Instead, Ben’s motorcycle was vintage, looking to be from the ’50s at least.
He shot her a crooked smile that felt like syrup dripping over her body as he mounted the bike in a slow, deliberate maneuver and kickstarted it. Then he handed her the helmet, which she strapped under her chin, the long hair she’d released from the confines of her bun after work trapped around her neck and shoulders.
Ben tipped his head for her to get on the back, and she did, obviously giving him a show when her skirt rode up her thighs.
“I just saw your panties, and I can’t wait to take them off you,” he growled. “Now put your arms around me.”
Holding on to a man this big wasn’t easy with short arms, but she scooted up until her pussy was pasted to his ass and she could lock her fingers together. As they rolled out of the parking lot, her mind spun. She couldn’t believe she was doing this—for a second time. Where was her self-respect?
Who cared? He was the sexiest thing on two legs, and she wasn’t going to miss another chance to be in his bed. Opportunities like this didn’t happen more than once in a lifetime, and anything else was baby angels raining golden gifts down upon her.
When they hit the asphalt, he gassed the bike and they shot forward. Dahlia squealed and felt his rumbling laugh vibrating through her arms and body. She wiggled closer, and he tossed her a look as they took the streets of New Orleans at a pace that suggested maybe he was just as eager to be with her.
* * * * *
They fell through her door, and he kicked it shut, reaching back to twist the deadbolt. The sexy vixen was all over him, her arms around his neck and her body plastered to his. He lifted her, and she wrapped her thighs high on his hips.
“You know the way,” she said in that sultry voice that was quickly stripping away his control. His balls ached and his cock throbbed as he navigated her dark apartment.
Her bedroom door was open, her ceiling fan revolving slowly and providing a trickle of cool air. His mouth watered as he lay her on her bed and followed her down. When he claimed her lips, his heart gave an odd undulation of excitement. He’d been with women over the course of the months, but he needed to get back between the thighs of this one particular woman.
To sink into her hot, tight body and lose his mind.
She plucked at the cotton of his T-shirt on his spine, and he rolled his shoulders to help her strip it over his head. She threw the garment aside and he dived for her neck as she ran her hands over his pecs.
“This is crazy,” she gasped as he dotted kisses up the column of her throat and bit into her ear right above her dangly earring.
“It’s crazier not to follow our instincts.” He scraped his teeth down her neck again, and she squirmed in his hold. When he reached her collarbone, he lapped lightly at the delicate line, following it to the hollow of her throat and finally lower to her cleavage.
Dragging in a deep breath, his head flooded with her unique scent and the traces of her perfume, the same as she’d worn before. He ran his nose up and down the seam of her breasts and considered shredding her top to get at what was underneath.
“What is that maddening scent?” he murmured.
She named a perfume he didn’t know but would definitely remember. It was all woman, all Dahlia. As he scraped his jaw over her blouse to her breast, his beard made a scratching noise against the cloth. He flattened his palm over her stomach, easily able to span her waist with his long reach of fingers. He’d forgotten how petite she was, how fucking perfect.
He pushed back to look down at her. “I need you naked. Now.”
She bit into her lower lip and he issued a low groan, his mind running with the memory of what her sharp little teeth had left all over his chest and abs that night. He’d worn her marks for most of a week.
He reached for her hem and she sat up as he pulled off her shirt. Her bra clasp took a simple pinch of his fingers to release.
“You’re damn good at that. Practice much?” She cocked a dark, arching brow at him, and he couldn’t help the crooked smile that claimed his mouth.
Pressing on his shoulders, she got him on the mattress and rolled atop him. With her skirt bunched around her hips, her pussy nestled over his bulging erection. Thank God his jeans acted as a barrier, because if they were skin to skin, he would have lost it by now.
Need pulsated through his system. This was what he’d been hoping for—her to dissolve that stress and turn his memories of the compound into smoke. With Dahlia, there was nothing but this… wanting.
She leaned over him, hair tumbling around them in thick waves the way he remembered, and he wished to hell he had more hands. Sinking his fingers into her hair and cradling her head, he inched his other hand up her smooth, bare thigh to her ass. He let out a groan as he discovered just how high her panties rode up on her full ass. She may be small but she was packed with curves.
“Fuck.” He hooked his fingers under the elastic of the leg and followed the cloth up to her hip. She ground against him, breath washing over his lips and tormenting him further. “I’m not going to make it long if I don’t take you.”
She swished her pussy back and forth over his erection in a teasing way that had him gritting his teeth. “Nobody’s holding you back.”
He flipped her. Sucked her breasts into hard peaks until she was writhing and then dragged his rough jaw down the center of her body, leaving red beard burn in his wake. This time he wanted her wearing his marks.
Her skirt took half a second to discard, and he had intentions of ripping her panties, but once he spotted the expensive white lingerie, he couldn’t bring himself to rip them off. He wanted to see them on her again too bad.
Lowering his head, he caught the thin floss of silk in his teeth and edged them down inch by inch, holding her gaze as he did. His cock swelled to the point of bursting, but he wasn’t going to shuck his jeans until the last second.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as he tugged her panties off with his teeth. Inch by inch they slid off. Once she was free, he started at those ankles he remembered so well. Licking the smooth skin, moving up her calves and stopping at her inner thighs. Her scents of arousal had him drunker than any amount of whiskey he could down, and damn if she wasn’t glistening with need.
From between her legs, he looked up at her. Her stomach dipped sharply, and her breasts heaved with her labored breathing.
“Ben,” she rasped.
He held her gaze and without warning, speared her pussy with two fingers. Slamming deep, enveloped to the knuckles by her fiery heat. Need exploded in him, and he had to close his eyes against the sweet torture as he pressed his fingertips upward into her inner wall. Juices flooded his hand, and she went wild. Sharp cries escaped her plump lips as she bucked her hips, pushing up and down on his fingers to get what she needed so badly.
With his other hand, he reached up her body to close his fingers over her nipple as he slowly, gently eased his fingers out of her body. “More,” she whimpered, but he was going at this at his own pace, the way he did everything.
Watching her beautiful features, he filled her pussy with his fingers one more time. And again. She shuddered in pleasure. Fucking her slowly, he kept her just on the edge.
Her inner walls squeezed his digits and when he felt the first pulsation of her orgasm starting, he pulled his fingers free.
“Oh God. Ben, don’t stop.” She’d bitten her lips so they were swollen and wine-red. He moved up her body to paint her full lower lip with her own juices. Her mouth parted on a gasp and he kissed her hard, lapping at her flavors, sinking his tongue deep in mimicry of his fingers in her pussy.
She clung to him with one arm around his shoulders and reached between them to pop the button of his jeans. The zipper vibration set his teeth on edge and sent his cock pounding in time to his pulse. When she reached inside his briefs and pulled out his cock, he shuddered.
There was nothing but Dahlia—that compound wasn’t even on the map of his mind anymore.
He got to his knees and fisted his shaft, watching her eyelids flutter as she looked on. Fuck yeah, he remembered that from the first time—she enjoyed watching him stroke himself.
“You like that, don’t you? You want to see me get off for you?”
“Yesss,” she hissed.
“Maybe later. Right now, I want your legs spread wide on this bed while I put on a condom.”
He didn’t need to ask her twice. As he got to his feet and removed his boots, socks and kicked off his jeans and briefs, his sultry woman didn’t just part her thighs a little bit—she spread them as wide as he expected.
The sight was too much, and he couldn’t stare too long or he’d risk blowing too soon. He ripped open a condom and rolled it in place with one jerk of his hand. Fuck, he hated these things, so confining. And he wanted to feel Dahlia wrapped around him with no barriers, only her extreme heat and his balls resting against her ass as he sank to the root.
She slid her hands down her body, letting him see how she touched herself. Sometime soon they would have to play. But not tonight. He hovered over her again, nuzzling her lips as he ran his cock head up and down her slick seam.
“Ben, I want this so bad. Don’t make me wait.”
Now there was no holding back. He thrust in hard, and she cried out. Tossing her head back on the pillow, stretching perfectly around him. He lowered his mouth to her throat, tasting the sweetness of her skin and moving upward over her jaw to the corner of her lips.
When she twisted her mouth against his and kissed him with so much pent-up passion, he let go of his firm grip on control and his body guided him.
In boot camp, they practiced shooting and tactical maneuvers over and over until it was reflex. This was something much more primal, a drive to sink into Dahlia completely and never surface.
He jerked his hips, she raised hers to meet his plunges. Their tongues tangled, and he heard his unintelligible words that she answered with breathy ones of her own. The darkness of her apartment, the scent of her perfume, the cool air of the overhead fan on his sweat-dotted spine all heightened his awareness far too fast.
Leaning back, he met her eyes, glossy with pleasure. He had to watch her shatter for him and fast. Had to feel her pulsating around him before he could let go of his precious grip on control and come.
She dug her short nails into his ass, dragging him down, closer, harder. The bed shook as he claimed her with everything in him. And she gave herself up.
A sharp cry left her as a mind-blowing first hard pulse of her pussy around his length stripped away his control.
“Holy fuck,” he ground out as her second contraction hit. A rough cry escaped her, and her next clench sent him over the edge. Heat blasted up from his spine to envelop him.
All thought fled as he let go completely, pounding into her, staking his claim in her body as a roar shook his chest and long seconds passed. Scorching heat tore through him as each spurt left his body.
His mind blank, he collapsed. When he finally drifted back to reality, it was to soft kisses being rained all over his face, eyelids and finally his mouth.
“Dahlia,” he breathed for the second time that night, cupping her cheek.