Pumping up into her. Feet braced on the bed. Slow at first.
Long sexy wet thrusts and harsh moaning melting sounds.
I pulled Shy’s hand low so she felt us joining together. “What do you feel?”
“You're big. Stretching me. Hard. I'm making you all wet.” Her fingers coasted from my balls to her breached pussy.
She shivered.
I groaned.
“That’s good?” she asked.
“Oh yeah.” I nipped the side of her arched neck, my tongue working circles on her skin as our fingers did the same below, where we connected, held still, thrummed hard and pulsed.
Curling her hand around the thick base of my shaft, I hilted deeper. “Squeeze me tighter.”
“Like this?”
On the next hard thrust, my balls knocked her fist.
Then fast and hard.
Longer. Deeper.
I explored her cunt taking me in, our hands wet, our rhythm rocking, her fingers slipping up toward her clit.
Moving my hands up to her hips, her waist, her tits, I flexed my ass and drove into Shy.
Slamming.
Roaring.
Coming so fucking fast and hard and forever I froze in place, tensed all over.
All my muscles released, and I fell against the bed with a rough laugh.
Shy panted on top of me.
I flipped her around, breathlessly kissing her. Sweeping tendrils of hair from her face. Linking my arms behind her back.
She kissed my chin and smoothed her palms over the tats on my shoulders.
Her silver-gray eyes looked dreamy when she propped above me, her tits doing another number on me. “Any thoughts about setting a wedding date?”
I pressed my forearm over my face, mostly to hide my smirk. “First you say I’m your lover. Then you start planning a family with me. Now you’re draggin’ me down the aisle already?”
Shy beat a pillow against my head.
I caught the cushion after two swings and stuffed it under my neck.
I drew her down to me, my heart taking on new life all of a sudden. “I think we should get the jump on Brodie. Really piss him off.”
“Yeah? You want to get the rush on him?” Shy looked up to lick her lips, flutter her eyelashes.
“No. I wanna get the Rush all over you.” I flipped her onto her back, my mouth slanting across hers.
“I think you already did that.” Squealing, she raised her thighs to my hips and her hands to my shoulders
“I can’t wait to make you officially mine, Shy.”
Keep reading for the first chapter of
WALKER
Bad Boys of X-Ops 1
From the world of the Carolina Bad Boys and Retribution MC! A new, complete four-book spinoff series! Hot. Sex. Action. Suspense.
http://amzn.to/29ysvlb
Chapter One
Somewhere over Lebanon, February 2015
“JUST A LITTLE R&R, he said.”
I listened to Storm grumbling through the industrial-sized headgear affixed to my ears, the rotors of the HH-60 Pave Hawk whump-whump-whumping overhead and on the tail.
“Exotic location was the phrase I used.” I chuckled low in my chest. “Didn’t mention nothin’ about R&R.”
“Thought I’d at least be able to get my jock off without gettin’ my fucking head shot off.” Storm aimed me a look from the pilot’s seat, one sinister black eyebrow raised.
“I’ll get you a hooker in Dubai after we get out of this mess.” Unbuckling, I reached over and tapped him on the cheek, ignoring the growl that parted his lips.
In the cargo area of the Sikorsky helicopter, I checked my parachute, the altimeter, the straps of my harness, and my pack filled with all sorts of goodies. I was unofficially Storm’s copilot, but fuck it. The man didn’t need me. He could handle the chopper on his own without the usual five-man crew. He’d have to, because I was getting ready to jump ship in high-altitude, high-opening, full-on fuck-this-shit terror.
Storm snorted, and his deep voice rumbled over the ear-gear. “Unlike you, I don’t need to pay for my pussy.”
“Not after that time you caught syphilis, right, Kemosabe?” Ignoring the curses Storm slung my way, I started zipping into my fancy flight suit, checking and double-checking straps, buckles, my bailout O2 line.
Storm stepped into the back with a dip of his head. “Remember what Blaize said about covert mission?”
“The fuck. I’m always covert.” I wrapped my arms protectively around the night camo pack snuggled against my chest like it was a baby in a papoose, because I knew what was coming next.
“Hand over the flash bang, Walker.” He opened his palm.
“Goddammit. I feel naked without my C-4. You know that.”
“Gimme.” Storm advanced.
“Motherfucker.” I watched while he dexterously unzipped the side pocket of my pack, eagerly snatching the two M112 demolition blocks of putty-white plastic explosives wrapped in a Mylar bundle.
My eyes narrowed. “Blaize is a bitch.”
“Head bitch in charge.” He pleasantly agreed. “Blasting caps? Priming unit?”