Hell for Leather (Black Knights Inc. #6)(77)

“I-I don’t have—” he began, lamenting the fact that he didn’t carry a spare condom or two in his wallet like the rest of the Knights. What was the point? He wasn’t a horndog like Ozzie or Steady. He didn’t bed everything on two legs. When he had a woman—and he did have a woman on fairly regular occasions despite what some of the boys at BKI might say to the contrary—it was always planned ahead of time. A nice dinner. A movie. And the inevitable fall into bed. Then he came packing. A true-blue Boy Scout to the core. But now? Nada. Zippo. Zilch. How the hell could he have let it go this far? Where was his head?

Oh, right, offline right now because Little Mac was doing all his thinking for him.

Delilah drew back. “I’m on the pill. If you want—”

That’s all she managed because, in the next instant, he pulled himself from the decadent warmth of her body only to slam back home on a stroke that rocked her against the top of the dresser. The pill? That’s all he needed to know. Because the monthly physicals and blood work he was required to undergo working for BKI told him he was clean and free of disease. And four years for her? Yeah. No worries. She squeaked at the force of his thrust. But one look at her face told him everything he needed to know. It wasn’t a squeak of pain; it was a squeak of pleasure. So he repeated the move, over and over. Slipping, sliding, impaling. She met him stroke for stroke. Her hands on his ass, her nails digging into his flesh.

“Yes, Mac!” she moaned against his lips, her breath hot and sweet. “Yes!”

He felt it then. That fist sharp edge of release building in his balls, racing along his shaft. He wanted to stop it. Wanted to keep on taking her forever. It was so good. Too good. But he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t have the strength or willpower. Not this time. Maybe later. But this first time his hips pistoned wildly. This first time, his mouth greedily devoured her lips and tongue, her cries of pleasure.

And then she did it. She threw her head back and screamed his name right before she detonated. Her back arched. Her breasts thrust up at him, the hard, wet tips a temptation for his eyes. The walls of her vagina squeezed him like a hot fist. Lord have mercy! His orgasm answered in kind, bursting through him. And it was the most explosive, heartrending, gut-twisting, delicious, melting, decadent sensation he’d ever experienced.

He had no idea how long his body spasmed as he held himself deep, as he poured himself inside her. It seemed like forever. And all that time she clasped him to her, kissed him, her mouth so unbelievably sexy, so unmistakably greedy.

“Delilah,” he finally groaned, pushing himself deep inside her one last time, reveling in the little tremors of residual pleasure that shot up his shaft.

She squeaked again when he wound an arm under her butt, lifting her from the dresser. Making it to the bed took some doing, what with his jeans bunched down around his ankles, but he managed it. When he separated himself from her body to toss her atop the bed, the sudden feeling of loss shocked him with its strength. But he quickly pushed the sensation aside, reaching down to drag off his boots, his ankle holster, his jeans.

She lay on the bed like the incarnation of provocation. Eyes heavy lidded and sparkling. Lips red and swollen. She drove him crazy when she lazily ran a finger back and forth over the tip of one violently puckered breast. Her right knee propped up, allowing him a small peek at the plump, wet flesh between her legs.

“I thought this was a one-shot deal,” she said when he crawled up to her, over her, her eyes darting down to his dick. Little Mac, the boy wonder, had already begun to harden with new life.

“That first one had to be done to take the edge off,” he told her. “Now we’re ready to start the real show.”





Chapter Twenty


Shawnee National Forest

Southern Illinois

“Did you make it to the second location safely?” Haroun asked, and Qasim glanced around the walls of the cave. The kerosene lanterns danced their light, creating shadows that writhed and moved like living entities.

A cave. Qasim had seen his fair share. The difference was that the caves he was used to were arid and dusty. This one…well, this one was cold and damp. The walls glistened with water and moss, the chirp of bats echoed from deep inside. He was unbelievably happy to hear from his second-in-command, and when he pulled in a relieved breath, the smell of damp earth and minerals tunneled up his nose.

“We are here,” he told Haroun. “We had to carry the Marine. I think Jabbar might have broken one of his legs. It made the hike difficult. But, we are here.”

“You did not stop?” Haroun demanded, something in his voice causing Qasim to frown. “You did not refuel? You were not caught on any cameras entering the park?”

“No. Everything went as we planned. What is it?” he asked. That feeling of foreboding was back, settling like a poisoned stone in the pit of his stomach. “Is it your wound? Are you hurt worse than you led me to believe?”

“No, no,” Haroun insisted. “It is not that.”

“Then what is it, brother? What is wrong?”

The poisoned stone of foreboding grew to the size of a boulder as his second-in-command told him of the helicopters, of being forced to abandon the rental vehicle, of the men in black suits with machine guns who sounded less like local law enforcement officials and more like well-trained government agents.