Into the Mist (Falcon Mercenary Group #1)(3)

She shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want me…”

He yanked her against him in one swift motion. She let out a small gasp when he swung her up into his arms and headed for the bedroom.

When he shouldered past the door, he nudged the light switch with his elbow then moved toward the bed where he dumped her in the middle.

Her lips quirked into in a smile as she rose up on her elbows. “You going to stand there all night, cowboy?”

When he didn’t move, she edged off the bed and reached for him again. This time he didn’t stop her. She obviously had a desire to dictate the action, and he could be a reasonable man. When a gorgeous woman wanted to call the shots, he didn’t object. At least not until he could get her naked and underneath him.

He allowed her to start peeling his clothes away. She started with his jeans, hiking them down his legs. He kicked off his shoes and did a little dance step until he was free of the confining denim.

She moved forward again, sliding her hands underneath his shirt and pressing her palms against his abdomen. He flinched as a thousand teeny tiny needles assaulted his skin. The chemistry between them was off the hook. At this rate, he’d go off like the Fourth of July before he ever got between her legs.

With tantalizing slowness, she edged the shirt up and over his head. She rose up on tiptoe, straining to reach, but he wasn’t about to help her. Not when she was at full stretch, her br**sts plumped against his chest. Hell, he’d sit back and enjoy the view.

Finally, she wrestled the shirt from him and tossed it aside. Then she went for his underwear. He let out an agonized hiss when her fingers brushed across the sensitive skin of his groin. Her palms smoothed down his legs as the underwear inched lower.

His c**k sprang free as if it had a life of its own, and half the time it did. It strained outward, begging for her touch. When he was free of his underwear, she ran her hand back up his leg and cupped his heavy sac in her hand.

God, he ached. Her fingers all wrapped around his balls was enough to make him explode. Then she let go, and he groaned.

She stepped back, her eyes running up and down the length of his body.

“You like what you see, sugar?”

“Very nice,” she purred. “Nothing wrong with your equipment.”

He grinned and wrapped a hand around his straining cock. He pulled gently, working his hand up and down as he grew even harder.

“Lie down,” she murmured, gesturing toward the bed. He wondered what her back-up plan was now that he wasn’t passed out or dead from whatever drug she’d slipped him.

He wagged his ass over to the bed like an obedient stooge, but really, what red-blooded man wouldn’t be jumping to do this woman’s bidding? Hell, right now, he’d leap out the window naked and bark at the moon if that’s what it took.

He flopped onto the bed, legs spread, hands behind his head. If she wanted to run the show, he’d let her. For the time being.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a foil-wrapped packet. Came prepared, did she? It was then it registered that she didn’t carry a purse. Combat boots and no purse. He might have just lost his heart.

As she moved to the bed, she ripped at the edge of the condom pack with her teeth. She threw the foil away and slipped the tip of the condom between her lips. A red condom. What the hell?

Okay, he wasn’t arguing. Really. She could put a pink rubber on him, and he wouldn’t bitch, but the idea of a colored dick set his teeth on edge.

All complaints ceased when she crawled up between his legs and lowered her head to his thighs. Oh hell, she wasn’t.

Fuck. She was.

She slipped the condom over the tip of his c**k with her mouth. And she didn’t stop there. Warm, moist lips surrounded him as she slowly eased her way down.

Fuck, she was well on her way to deep-throating him. He liked head as well as the next guy, but he’d never had a woman slide a condom all the way down his dick with her mouth.

The head of his c**k bumped against the soft flesh of her throat, and her tongue unrolled the remainder of the condom. Unbelievable.

Slowly, she began inching her way back up, her mouth working its magic over the thin latex. If ever there was a time he cursed condoms, that time was now. What he wouldn’t give to feel that tongue and nothing else.

“Get your damn clothes off,” he growled.

The corner of her mouth quirked in amusement as she stared up at him. “Now who’s in a hurry?”

“You can take them off or I’ll tear them off,” he said calmly.

Annoyance flitted across her face, but she set to work untying the little string that held her shirt on. When the scrap of material fell away, his pulse sped up. God almighty, the woman had gorgeous br**sts. And her ni**les. Perfect.

He reached out to palm one, wanting to feel the slight weight in his hand, but she pulled away and climbed off the bed. She bent down to take off her boots, giving him a perfect shot of her br**sts as they swayed with the motion. Then she stood and shimmied out of her tight jeans, no small feat, and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear. It was interesting to note that her panties were white and functional. Kind of like her combat boots.

She yanked her underwear down, and his eyes drifted to the curls that shielded her pu**y. His c**k tightened, became unbearably hard.

She noted his reaction and pinned him with her emerald stare. Her small, pink tongue darted out and ran across her upper lip as she moved back to the bed.