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Wingman (Elite Ops) by Emmy Curtis (4)

He’d been all set to apologize. To call for calm. To urge her to pretend that kiss had never happened. It was the right thing to do. It was the sane thing to do.

But she just barreled in, throwing herself at him, and he for one wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nope. He was going to do something else with that mouth he’d been fantasizing about for years.

He pulled her closer and put his mouth over hers. As he closed his eyes, he clocked a look of bewilderment on her face, but by the time he’d processed it, he was already kissing her, and nothing short of an act of God was going to stop him.

She tensed and he summoned all his willpower to step away from her. But she melted against him before he could, touching every part of her to every part of him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Yes. He mentally pumped his fist in the air. She wanted him. She wanted him like fuck, man. Everything he’d been longing for, suffering through those lonely nights for, those cold showers…it was all right here, in this room.

He bent his knees and lifted her off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist, but he hesitated before turning to put her on the bed. This was as close to heaven as he could imagine, having her wrapped around him. Heat rose in him, and desire turned his whole world into static, the only clarity being the woman he held.

He wrapped his arms around her as if he were trying to absorb her into his body. Just for a second he wanted to assimilate, close his eyes and recognize that she was his, that she’d stay with him now, and they’d fly together until they retired.

He gently bent down and placed her on the bed, not wanting to have her body away from his. She sat on the edge, looking up at him, her brown eyes looking like little eclipsed suns.

He took off his T-shirt and knelt before her on the floor. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask if she was okay with…whatever was about to happen. But she placed a finger over his lips and shook her head. She didn’t want to have the conversation.

It was a shame, as her conversation and her fast-as-hell mind always made him slightly dizzy with wanting her. But they could talk later. Would have to talk later.

She pushed him away and stood. Her eyes firmly on his, she took off her sweatshirt and her black yoga pants.

His brain became fogged with need as she peeled off her tank top to leave her in peach-colored bra and panties. The shade emphasized her tan skin. He wanted to know when she’d been out in the sun, but his mind had already moved on to the fantasy of her sunbathing in a tiny bikini.

He crowded her, his leg pressing against hers so she fell backward onto the bed. As she lay there, looking up at him, he undid his pants and slid them off.

His dick sprang free, and he took pleasure in watching her gaze follow it. Then he climbed onto the bed next to her and kissed her stomach.

She arched against the touch of his mouth, stretching her arms above her head. He sat up and snaked a hand beneath her, unclipping her bra gratifyingly quickly. She laughed. “Nifty. You’ve done that before.”

“Beginner’s luck,” he said, trying not to smile.

She crossed her eyes at him, and he gave in to a laugh. He sat astride her, reveling in the feeling of her soft stomach against his dick. He spanned her rib cage with his hands and stroked them upward, until they were under the silky fabric of her bra.

Missy’s laugh turned into a moan and his fingers found her nipples. He felt them harden under his fingers and the sensation pushed lava through his veins from his fingertips to his dick. His balls tightened against her. Jesus. Why had he waited so long for this?

She placed an arm over her eyes as if it were too bright in the room, so he switched off the bedside lamps. Although the sun hadn’t completely set, the room was rendered into darkness.

With firm hands, she pulled him down on top of her. And then his body was pressed to hers and the world as he perceived it ceased to exist. Thought escaped him as his body and various fantasies took over.

He swallowed hard against the wave of…something unfamiliar and intense washing over him. Missy was naked, her body pressed against his. He needed to feel her, properly, and he couldn’t while he was on top of her. He shifted off her, pulling her with him, so they lay facing each other. He stroked her back from her neck to her shoulders, her waist, and her ass, reveling in the disbelief and wonder that his hands—his own hands—were actually touching Missy’s naked body.

Just as he was settling into a haze of need, she pulled away and climbed on top of him. Ahhh Jesus. He wished he’d left the lights on. He’d give a million dollars to be able to see her in full freaking Technicolor, naked and astride him. But instead he allowed his eyes to adjust to the shadows, and used his fingers to feel her soft curves and the firm muscles quivering beneath her tan skin. He longed to feel her wetness against his dick. She shifted her pelvis against him in response, and he wondered if she was reading his mind, as she did when they were on duty.

A groan shuddered through him as she opened her legs and slicked along his length. She was so hot and wet and soft. She brought her legs up either side of his hips and pressed her wet heat down on his dick. Her eyes closed as she sat upright and slid herself back and forth along his length.

Then she raised herself off him, causing an unwelcome coolness where her body should have been, and slid her hands over his dick—up and down and in a spiral around the head. He was not going to last worth a damn if she carried on.

“Condom?” she asked, her hand stilling on him.

He tried to gather his senses. “Of course.” He pointed to his pilot case and tried to reach it, not wanting Missy to move a fucking inch away from him.

She stifled a laugh at his expression, which probably had an air of desperation about it, and gave him her hand. “I’ve got it. Anchor me.”

For a split second he wondered if that was some kind of sex that he’d missed while pining for Missy from afar. Then he realized she just wanted him to hold her hand so she didn’t fall off the bed. He grabbed her hand and she stretched to reach the bag, just being able to drag it toward the bed with her fingertips.

“We’re a great team,” he said, reaching for the condom.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he noticed a slight change in her demeanor. He shouldn’t have said that. Wasn’t that what their whole argument had been about?

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m saving that one to kick you with later.”

Dammit, she always fucking knew what he was thinking. All he wanted to do was lose himself in her again.

“Now, where were we?” she asked as if she were inside his head again. She pulled his dick toward her, until his tip was touching her clit. His eyes widened as he sought to take in this image: Missy, naked, pleasuring herself with his dick. Never had he allowed himself to ever imagine that his fantasies would become real.

And then she placed him at her entrance and moved her hips around in a circle, allowing less than an inch of him inside her. Instinctively, his hands flew to her hips to try to stop her from teasing him before he’d had a chance to put the condom on. But she cocked a confident smile and continued playing with him. He wasn’t getting enough of her; he wanted to be balls deep in her, feeling every muscle contract around him.

But also, more than anything, he wanted to see her face when she came. A shot of abject desire stabbed through him, making every muscle in his body contract. He pulled his dick away from her and urged her closer, wanting to make her feel the same need that was pulsing through him.

His fingers plundered her wetness, touching her clit for the first time, making her gasp. The sounds she made nearly pushed him over the edge. The moans and sighs. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget how she sounded.

He slid his fingers inside her, almost dying at her heat and wetness and the tightness that stretched around them. She rocked against him, and when he curled his fingers inside and stroked her clit with his thumb, she trembled. Her head stretched back and he had her. Her nipples puckered for him as if attached to her clit with an invisible wire. He ached to get his mouth on them, but she was so close to coming, he didn’t want to stop the momentum. He was in a fucking dream.

She tightened around his fingers, as one last throaty moan filled the room. She came with a rush of loud breaths and spasms, her eyes still closed. He slipped the condom on, and she found his dick immediately, and before he could protest—as if he would—he was inside her. All her heat and wetness surrounded him as she sat firmly down, burying him deep within her.

Lights prickled his peripheral vision. She rode him long and slow, and then faster, seemingly anticipating every nerve ending’s demand, until his fists were wound in the bedcover as he strained into her. His balls tightened almost painfully as he exploded inside her. His brain fritzed as if he were concussed. But there was no pain, just amazing release…as if everything in him was reaching out to be a part of her.

“Jesus. Jesus,” he said, gasping for air.

She released a small exhale of a laugh before collapsing onto him, with her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and closed his eyes. Her breathing became steady, and he let go, once again, to heaven.

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