Mercenary Desires

ADULT EXCERPT


"Put your legs around me, Sara," he whispered just before he took her lips in a hard, searing kiss.


His deep, gruff voice, the huff of the soft, sibilant 'S' of her name bathing her face sent shivers throughout her body. She'd do anything this man asked. They didn't have much time left. Take what you want, what you need from him. Forget everything else. Nothing matters now but this. She locked her fingers around his neck, then tightened her legs around his hips, clasping her ankles over his butt. He lowered himself to the cot and, with a palm on her bottom, pressed her mound against his penis, never breaking the kiss. She thrust her hips rhythmically, frantically against his, moaning at the promise of being filled by him.


She caressed the yellowing bruise below his eye with gentle fingertips. Every inch of her skin trembled with want, her thighs quivered, and her sex flowered open, wet and ready for him. She almost laughed at the purple prose running through her mind, but that's what she felt—an aching softening, a rush of warm cream, a pulse throbbing in her clit. She whimpered in her throat as she speared her fingers through his hair.


His breath bathed her chin, and he rasped, "I wanted you from the minute I saw you." He took her mouth again. His hard, encompassing mouth, his thick, slippery tongue thrusting inside, filling her. He traced a path down her neck with his lips, over her collarbone, then nudged at the fabric over the round curve of her breast. "Take this off," he demanded as he quickly unbuttoned her shirt. His shirt, the one he'd given her.


She arched, held her breath, and watched his every move. He tantalized her with slow nips closer and closer to her aching nipple. Heat bloomed. She'd never felt anything like his focus and intensity before. The sight of his big, raspberry colored tongue on the tip of her breast sent a sizzling path of lust through her veins, flooding her womb with heat, a spike of delicious desire. Big hairy face or not, she wanted his mouth on hers again.


She vibrated with the waiting, crying out when his lips finally closed around her aching nipple, working it with his tongue, nipping with his teeth. "Rowdy." She gripped his ears. He groaned as he suckled. She caressed the side of his face as if he were a baby. The eroticism of the sight caught her by surprise, the close up of his eyelashes resting on his cheeks, the little wrinkle between his eyebrows. She moaned and arched into the cushion of his face, tossing her head at the roll of his teeth, the back and forth of his lashing tongue.


Her nails dug into his shoulders, she opened her mouth to cry out, and suddenly his lips covered hers again. At first, the short, intense sweeps of his tongue, matched by hers, were a powerful massage on sensitive lips. Then, they collided in an explosion so hard their teeth clashed. Passionate, voracious, insatiable emotions became a wild rush of desperate, frustrated craving.


More, more!


A tremendous noise battered her ears.


"Fuck." His guttural exclamation was short and foul. "Show time, baby," he rumbled in her ear.


It was the only way to be heard, the thwapping of the helicopter blades deafened her.


He gave her one final, deep, penetrating kiss, sipping and nipping at her mouth. "My real name is Peter."


He brushed a thumb over her lips, her eyebrows, concentrating his passionate gaze on the separate parts of her face as if to memorize the whole. An ache, deeply embedded inside her, would destroy her if she didn't push it back down. If only the helicopter hadn't come. If only they'd met somewhere else, somewhere civilized. If only this weren't over.


* * * *


Rowdy's heart felt ripped in two. There were a hundred things he wanted to say to her, to hear from her, but they'd run out of time. He allowed himself another final, private look at her beautiful face and devastating blue eyes before he kissed her for the last time, touched her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the crest of her cheek bones, and finally her lips. How could he let her go?


In his business, there was always another job to do. Time to put her on the helo and move on. He pulled her through the tent opening and led her toward the military helicopter, just landed but poised and ready for takeoff at a moment's notice.


No time left. The ache, snaking and swelling through his body, wasn't just from his unrequited lust. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He clasped his arm protectively around her waist as they ran straight into the noise and dust kicked up by the spinning rotors. Sweeping her into his arms, he tucked her head against his chest to shield her eyes and almost fell to his knees with the powerful hunger for the sweet, luscious, quivering woman clinging tightly to his neck, breathing hotly against his skin.


No time left. He thrust her into the yawning opening, and as soon as her knees landed on the metal flooring, she scrabbled like a baby further inside. A crewman grabbed her under the arms, pushed her into a seat, and buckled a shoulder harness and seatbelt around her. She was handed a helmet, and before putting it on, with tears rolling down her cheeks, she met his gaze through the wide door of the helo.


No, he mouthed, shook his head. Don't cry.