“Yes.” She needed more, needed him closer.
“You taste perfect,” he growled. “Like hot honey syrup, smooth and sweet on my tongue.”
She whimpered, her head twisting on the bed as she fought the need to beg for more.
“Do you want to come, baby?” he asked, his voice wickedly teasing. “Your little clit is so hard and swollen. Do you want me to make it feel better?”
“Yes,” she cried. “Do you want me to beg?”
“Oh yeah,” he laughed, a low dark sound. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Beg me to make you come.”
She was beyond shame. Beyond the normal boundaries of virgin hesitance.
“Suck it,” she begged, “suck my clit. Hard. Do it hard. Like you did my ni**les.”
“Mmm.” The vibration of pleasure as he licked through the burning slit nearly sent her over the edge.
“Do you like it when I hurt you?” he asked her. “When I pinched your little ni**les and tugged at them with them my teeth?”
“Oh God.” She shook like a leaf in a hurricane. “Yes. I do. Please, please do something.”
His fingers slid through her juices, moving down, caressing over the entrance to her vagina before circling the little puckered hole of her rear. She jerked at the caress but lay still, shaking as he did it again, then again. The fourth time she choked on a cry as the tip of his finger slid into her. Fire. Heat.
He gathered more of her juices and repeated the movement, over and over again as his tongue licked at her swollen pu**y, until she screamed with the building pressure when his finger slid deep, deep inside her burning rear.
His lips clamped on her clit then, his tongue rasping it as he sucked it into his mouth. His finger moved inside her, f**king into the untouched channel and sending those much needed, hungry flames burning through her body.
So close. She was so close… Another finger joined the first then, working into her, stretching her, burning her as his mouth suckled her, his tongue flicking pressing, destroying her. When her climax hit, she screamed. She couldn’t stop the sound, couldn’t control the response. Fire was streaking through her ass, burning her alive with the pleasure and the pain as she exploded with such force, such overwhelming response, that nothing mattered, nothing existed but the conflagration tightening her body and burning her alive.
Until… “Hell, Kiowa, you were supposed to protect her, not f**k her.”
What happened next was little more than a hazy realization of a blanket being jerked over her as—
Kiowa?—came over her with a gun aimed at the door and a growl that sounded all too animal-like.
“Damn, Simon, forget the gun in his hand, look at that dick!” the female who had entered crooned with husky appreciation.
Kiowa growled again, frustration eating him alive as Stephanie’s dark, wide eyes centered between his body where he crouched over Amanda.
The slender, pretty, female mercenary stood beside her much taller lover, Simon Quatres, who grimaced with male distaste.
“Down, girl,” he muttered, before giving a Kiowa a hard look. “Could you put some pants on or something?”
He could still smell Amanda’s arousal, sweet and hot. Beneath him, she stared back at Simon and Stephanie in dazed fascination, though he could feel the fine shudders working through her body as he tasted the essence of her need on his lips. And he wanted more. Cursing he jumped from the bed and dragged his jeans over his hips before struggling to pull the zipper over an erection that howled in discontent at the confinement.
“Your timing sucks, Simon,” he snapped when he turned back to them, but his gaze went to Amanda. She was staring up at him, dazed, almost drugged. But there had been no signs of drugs, he would have sensed it first thing. He frowned, moving closer to check her dilated pupils and feel the warmth of her skin.
Her whispered moan as he touched her had his senses screaming in demand. She needed to be f**ked. He could smell it on the air around her, taste it on his lips, feel it surging like a wave of heat around him. And he wanted to f**k her, so damned bad it made his back teeth hurt.
“You know, for a damned careful man, you’re making some major mistakes here,” Simon said then.
“Did you forget who she was by chance? Maybe her would-be attackers hit you on the head or something?”
Simon’s blue eyes regarded him with sharp disapproval.
“I didn’t forget who she was,” he snarled back. “Let it alone and tell me what the hell happened to her Secret Service detail.”
Simon grunted. “Strange thing going on there, buddy,” he said sarcastically. “Gloria and the Ladies showed up at her place. No dead bad guys and the Goof Troup was in place next door safe and sound. All we found was a little blood on the back walk and it looked like several other patches of it had been carefully erased. Someone was busy.”