Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(48)

He reached down between her legs, his fingers brushing delicately over the sensitive seam of her labia, and parted her, insinuating one long finger slowly inside. The contact jolted her closer. She swayed over him, undulating like an exotic dancer over his delving hand, hips jerking, squeezing around him. Panting. Embarrassment forgotten.

“Yeah. That’s good,” he muttered. “Such a tight, perfect, gorgeous *. I think my finger is about to come all by itself.” He thrust two fingers in, curved them into a gentle hook, stroking and pressing a tender spot near the entrance of her snug channel. She jolted over his moving hand, as his rough voice urged her on. “Take me deeper. Pump it, harder…faster…there. There you go. Almost there…oh, yeah. Yes, yes, yes. Oh, Christ, that’s so sweet.”

It was. Just like before, it was heavenly and wonderful, the wave lifting her, pitching her over.

She was infinite, boundless. Lost in the pulsing, surging bliss.

When she got her leaden eyelids open again, she was flat on her back, panting in sobbing gasps. Legs splayed wide and limp. She felt like a flower beaten down to muddy earth by a rainstorm. Nick was poised over her, braced on his arms. She sensed rather than saw his triumphant grin. She was destroyed and he had only just begun.

She licked dry lips, tried to speak, but her voice was gone. Her throat was dry from panting. Sore and rough from screaming.

“Your landlady must be shocked to the depths of her puritanical soul.” He sounded pleased with himself.

Her chest jerked with breathy laughter. “Did I, ah, make noise?”

“I thought the windows would shatter.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said tartly. “Well, then. I guess the cops will be here any time. You’d better hurry and get on with it, hmm?”

He grasped her hand, put it on his cock, covered it with his own as he swirled her fingers around his glans, rubbing up and down the broad shaft. She could barely close her fingers around it.

“I never hurry,” he said. “I take my time. Come what may. Let them lay siege. I’ll go out in a blaze of glory. But I’ll die happy.”

The image made her wince. “Don’t even say that word,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t even joke about it.”

He ran his fingertip tenderly over her trembling lower lip. “Sure thing, babe,” he said gently. “Got any condoms?”

The question jolted her abruptly back to mundane reality. She tried to remember if she did. She had hardly ever entertained Justin in her dinky apartment. He had found it cramped and irritating, and had much preferred his own sleek bachelor condo, all done up in cool matte metal and black leather. “No, I don’t think that I do,” she said.

He nodded, unsurprised. “I won’t come inside you.”

It was a risk, but her idea of risk had been radically redefined today, and she was in no condition to argue. He fitted her hands around the base of his shaft, against the springy thatch of dark hair, and swirled the blunt tip of himself against her, nudging and prodding until he was firmly lodged. He forged slowly inside.

She gasped. She was hypersensitive after that violent orgasm, and the deep penetration was overwhelming, slick and soft though she was. He pushed deeper, each short, hard shove jerking a whimpering gasp from her throat. The room was getting lighter, and she could see the grim line of his mouth, the tautness of his jaw. His eyes burned into hers, as if he were trying to make her admit something.

She braced her hands against his chest, holding him at arm’s length, but he made a low sound and yanked her hands out between them, trapping her wrists with one big fist.

“Take me,” he said. She heard the pleading behind the harsh command. He jerked her legs up over his big shoulders and leaned, squeezing her legs high, swirling that throbbing club of flesh inside her.

Filling her with himself. So deep.

She didn’t know how she would survive if he started to move, but he did, slow, heavy lunges that ground her hard against the mattress. His shaft stroked and pressed and slid over a bright glow of awareness, creating a delicious, aching friction that got more and more intense until it was too much. She had to retreat from it. She turned her face away, squeezed her eyes shut. Panted, in short, sharp breaths.

He jerked her chin around. “Look at me!” His voice slashed across her ragged nerves, and her eyes popped open, swimming with startled tears. “Don’t hide away inside your head.”

“But I—”

“I need you. Right here. With me,” he said more softly. His hips came down heavily with each stroke. “Look at me. I need you.”

She stared back, and the intensity amplified, like a feedback loop. The bed squeaked and rattled, unused to such hard use. His thrusts got deeper, faster, their gasps, moans and whimpers sharpening as they struggled in a desperate, heaving knot. She crested again and again, wailing as her body drew him impossibly deeper, bathing him with slick juice, clutching and milking his phallus with each ramming stroke.

Suddenly he wrenched out, and hunched over her, face contracted in a grimace that looked like pain. Hot, jerky spurts hit her belly, in a climax that seemed that it would never end.



Nick lay on his back afterwards, eyes burning.

He knew the script. He was supposed to cuddle her, sweet talk, make her laugh, if possible. Another silly crack about her landlady and the cops would be good. She’d given all she had to give. She was amazing. She’d held nothing back.