Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(129)

God, his voice was so bland. So unemotional. It was unnerving.

She struggled to gather her thoughts. They were getting scrambled by a strange, staticky buzz of interference from him.

“That’s why I’ve been so freaked out about Carrie,” she confessed. “If they know where I live, then Zhoglo knows about Carrie too.”

“Don’t panic about Carrie yet,” he said. “What else did you do?”

She’d been internally debating the wisdom of confessing to her Gavin Street detour, since it hadn’t been on the trajectory she’d originally laid out to him. In his current mood, she was less and less inclined to do so. She was jittery, nervous, tearful. She did not want to be yelled at or harangued. And what did it matter, if that conversation with Josh took place on the phone in the cab, or in person?

“I think I’ve covered it all,” she said. “Bank machine, apartment, rental car place. Then I came back here.”

“That’s it?” He stared straight ahead.

“Uh, yeah,” she said.

He looked away from her, as if the blackout curtains over the window had suddenly taken on some deep significance. “I see.”

She felt so alone all of a sudden. Bereft. Which was silly. He was just depressed and stressed-out, and no wonder, for God’s sake. She should try not to be clingy and demanding. It was the kiss of death.

Still. It made her ache.

But she knew a quick, surefire way to find him again, and she had the time, before Joshie picked her up. She got off the bed, and slid her arms around his head. “Nick?” she asked gently. “Where are you?”

He looked up at her. “Nowhere,” he said.

She stripped off her clingy blue microfiber tee in one sinuous move, and cradled his face against her cleavage. “I know of a nicer place that you could be,” she murmured.

“Oh, yeah? Do you?” His voice was faintly challenging. “Show me.”

She smiled at him and unhooked her bra. She was getting more sexually confident every day that passed, and that big bulge in his jeans encouraged her. She unbuttoned her jeans, kicked them away.

Nick put his hands on her hips, and stripped the panties down, with a hard, impatient jerk. She heard a rip, felt a seam give way.

Whatever. Ripped underwear was a small price to pay for what he was always willing to deliver. She let the savaged garment fall, and lifted her ankles out of it delicately. Stood before him naked.

He nuzzled her breasts, eyes shut tight, mouthing her nipples, suckling her. Using his swirling, rasping tongue to make her shiver with anticipation. Then he got up and yanked off the fleece polo he wore. He opened his pants, and let his erect cock spring free.

He looked at her expectantly, dragging his hand slowly up and down the veined shaft. Gave her a what-are-you-waiting-for jerk of his stubbly chin. Uppity bastard. She was spoiling him rotten, if he was starting to take this sex slave business for granted.

It pissed her off, but as always, her emotions for him were a volatile, dangerous mix. Everything about him stirred and heightened her, even when he was arrogant.

But now was definitely not the time to scold him for it.

She sank to her knees and took him into her mouth, using all of her newfound skill on him. He went rigid, his fingers digging painfully into her hair. She could hear his rough, ragged breathing.

All the other times she had gone down on him, he’d melted for her, shivering and pleading. Vulnerable. This time he didn’t. He turned his face up, eyes closed, gripping her hair, guiding her head to show her how he wanted her to take him. How deep, how fast. It was much harder this way, to breathe, not to gag on his thick, broad member, not to get tired. He didn’t make a sound, didn’t look at her.

What was with him? She pulled away from his hands, alarmed as well as angry, and struggled to her feet. “Nick, I’m not—”

“Shhh.” He spun her around, and pushed her down onto the bed, hard. She tumbled onto her hands and knees. He gripped her hips. “Let’s try something different,” he said, nudging himself into her hot cleft. “Let’s try it with no talk. No sound track, for once. Let’s just f*ck.”

She gasped, at his first hard, penetrating shove. She wasn’t wet enough yet. “I like the way we do it,” she said shakily. “I like the talk.”

“I don’t, right now. I’m not in the mood.”

“But I—”

“Shhh.” He actually had the nerve to put his hand over her mouth, the bastard, but when she reached up to paw it away, that left only one arm holding her up, and she sprawled onto her chest, bed bouncing, his hot, smothering weight on top of her, his thick phallus prodding deeper. He slid his hand around her hip, threaded his fingers down into the curls that covered her labia. Caught her clit tenderly in the vee of his index and middle finger.

She struggled against his muffling hands, fighting against the confinement as well as the pleasure that he drew from her unwilling body. His skill was unerring: that urgent pump and squeeze in perfect time with the deep plunge and glide of his rigid shaft.

The climax wrenched through her, long and jolting and almost painful. She flushed for shame in the glowing aftermath. What kind of head case was she, to get off like this on his freaky games?

Her body was in thrall to him. It was unbearable.

He took his hand from her mouth to jerk her hips higher, and she twisted to look at him. “Stop this,” she said. “Get off me.”