Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(69)

How did it sound? Like he’d died and gone to heaven.

Sweet Jesus, did he dare?

What was she asking of him really? Nothing more than one night of pleasure and, wonder of wonders, it just so happened indulging a woman’s pleasure was one of his specialties, given the tutelage of a nice, widowed Brazilian lady.

Funny, he hadn’t thought of Raquel Silva in years, but maybe he shouldn’t be surprised she popped into his head now.

On their very first nerve-wracking assignment, he and Grigg had spent a long, hot month doing recon on their target and staying in Raquel’s little boathouse. The days had been filled with waiting and watching and copious note taking. The nights, though…oh, the nights had been filled with something totally different.

And despite the fact that randy young men were known to engage in a little locker room talk, neither he nor Grigg had spoken about their experiences with Raquel in all the years to follow that first mission, as if verbalizing the intimacy would taint the spirituality of it somehow.

And it had been spiritual. A broadening of mind, body, and soul.

Though they’d been highly trained soldiers, it’d been obvious to both of them they’d arrived at Raquel’s boathouse that sweltering South American summer as boys. By the time they’d left, that sweet Brazilian lady had turned them into men.

And oh buddy, how many times had he fantasized about showing Ali everything he’d learned? How many times had he played out each individual caress of his callused fingertips, each laving pass of his tongue, each heavy stroke of his body into hers?

Countless. That’s how many. Countless. And he had his chance to make all his fantasies reality.

She was asking him for one night. One night of indulgence, one night of passion and memories. After all the years of denial and sacrifice, didn’t he deserve to take this one night and make love to the only woman who’d ever touched his heart?

Probably not. Someone like him, someone who’d seen and done so many dark, vile things, someone who’d crawled around in the rancid sewer of humanity was surely unworthy to lay a hand on someone like her. Someone as clean and pure and radiant as sunshine.

So no. He didn’t deserve this one night. But, God help him, he was going to take it.





Chapter Fifteen


Suddenly Ali’s back was slammed up against the bathroom wall, and Nate’s tongue was introducing itself to all of her teeth, and…yeah…there went her shirt. He literally ripped it from her shoulders.

Holy crap!

Now she knew what people felt when they talked about the world tilting on its axis. Right at that moment, she didn’t know which way was up.

He cupped her breast, lifting it, weighing it. And then her bra was miraculously gone. She didn’t know how it happened or precisely when—which just proved this wasn’t Nate’s first rodeo—but she was suddenly bare, and his mouth was there.

Oh hot.

It was so hot, the hard pull of his lips at her nipple, the gentle scrape of his teeth. That was the deciding moment, right there, right then. The turning point. It could go either way. She could pull back, and he’d slow it down. He’d gentle his hunger and sweetly see to her needs, like he’d done that day on the beach.

But she didn’t want sweet. And she certainly didn’t want gentle.

All she wanted, all she could think of, was getting him inside her. Having him fill her with his hard length and thrusting until the friction became unbearable and she exploded into a thousand pieces of ecstasy.

They both fought to get her jeans off, hands frantic, bodies wiggling, mouths hungrily devouring heated flesh. When the stained denim pooled at her feet, she impatiently kicked it away.

“Get inside me, Nate,” she demanded harshly, tunneling her fingers through the soft curls of his hair and pressing him more tightly against her breast.

She didn’t know how he managed it, but somehow he snaked a hand between the frenzied press of their bodies to release those last few buttons of his fly, and…he was there.

He pushed the leg of her panties aside and…oh, God he was right there. Hot and throbbing, just brushing against her. Teasing, tormenting.

He groaned against her nipple and then he was pushing, slowly, inexorably, sliding inside her. She momentarily balked at the intrusion, because, cripes, he wasn’t your average Joe by any stretch of the imagination.

A frustrated rumble sounded deep in his chest, and she knew exactly how he felt. She wanted that final connection, that full penetration. The place where two bodies joined and worked together to fulfill the ultimate goal of release. She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes closed, and concentrated on relaxing her inner muscles.

Taking immediate advantage, with one final, forceful jab that nearly knocked the breath from her, he was fully seated.

Behind her lids, her eyes crossed in pleasure/pain. He stretched her, filled her to the very brim, stimulating every vibrating, overly excited nerve ending.

And she was there. Impossibly, unexpectedly, she was at that almost frightening precipice where the body took over and rational thought was inconceivable. She was helpless to do anything but squirm, trying to achieve that last bit of stimulation that would send her careening over the edge.

With his big hands holding her hips pinned against the wall, he pulled back, sliding his length outside of her, and she moaned at the loss.

“Condom,” he growled, and she shook her head with frustration.