Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(100)

“Get on your hands and knees, Jaimie.” His voice was nearly hoarse, yet velvet soft and firm.

She did so, very slowly, watching him the entire time. He just stood, his movements unhurried, his hand absently stroking his erection. Her mouth watered. She touched her tongue to her lips, not taking her eyes from the broad, flared head with the tempting small drops of moisture. She knew his taste intimately. Darkly male. Salty and unique.

He moved around her, dropping one hand onto her hip possessively. The feel of his heat was amazing. He knelt behind her, his fingers flexing at her hips once before gripping her hard. She was unprepared for his entrance. He slammed into her hard, burying himself to the hilt, the velvet steel pushing through the tight folds of her muscles, sending flames racing through her body and scraping over the tight bundle of sensitive nerves until she felt raw and inflamed and so needy she couldn’t stop her gasping breath. He hammered into her, over and over, driving her up fast.

Jaimie heard the roar of blood in her head, her pulse thundering. He was rough, but so careful of not hurting her. She loved the way he felt, so thick, invading her over and over, going deep, so deep she swore he was in her stomach. She was so close she pushed back hard, reaching for release. His fingers fisted in her hair and he pulled her head back, suddenly stopping all movement.

Mack leaned forward, his body over her back, his cock a steel spike buried deep in her pulsing body. He put his lips against her ear. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to a man to know the woman who belongs to him doesn’t trust him?”

She stiffened. She could feel the anger running through him like a raging river. He pulled back, nearly all the way out, until she gave a protesting sob, following his body with hers. He slammed his body harder into hers. Her womb convulsed. Her body rippled, clutched at his, but he stopped again, leaving her gasping, needing. Mack at his most lethal with her. She recognized danger. His deliberate seduction hadn’t been about lying beside her all night needing her body. This was something altogether different.

“Mack, please.”

He bit her shoulder. Hard. His tongue swirled over the ache. “Don’t Mack me. Who the f*ck do you trust with your life when you don’t trust me? Joe? Is it Joe, Jaimie? Fucking tell me who it is.”

“Not Joe.” She tried to move, but his body locked hers beneath him, his fist tight in her curls. She tried to clear her mind. “You pulled the plug on the back-trace. I knew I was stirring up a hornet’s nest, but I wanted that last nail in the coffin.”

His fingers tightened in her scalp almost, but not quite, to the point of pain. “Those two men who came here to question you would have destroyed your computers and then they would have killed you. They were definitely Black Ops.”

“I knew I was taking a chance, Mack, but I had to do it. I had to make certain you were protected.” She held perfectly still. His shaft pulsed and jerked in her, sending hot waves spiraling through her body.

“Phillip Thornton might want Kane and Brian dead, because he doesn’t want Whitney exposed. And he certainly can’t afford for his new identity to come under scrutiny, so getting rid of Kane and Brian is a good idea for him. Getting rid of you is even better. But there is no way Whitney or this Thornton are the ones trying to murder GhostWalkers. They put too much into us. They think of themselves as patriots. Thornton took the heat and disappeared in order to help Whitney arrange his own death. These men believe in the GhostWalker program.”

“So he would kill Kane and Brian and me, but not the rest of you?” Jaimie asked.

“We aren’t a threat to him.” Mack pulled out and slammed home again.

Her tight sheath clamped down around him like a vise. She was so close, but he held her release just out of reach. “Well, I intend to make certain he won’t send Kane and Brian on any more suicide missions,” Jaimie said. “And I want Whitney stopped.”

“Honey.” Mack kissed the side of her neck, suckled there for a moment, branding her. “It won’t ever matter what proof you have, they’ll only discredit you.” He knelt back up, still retaining possession of her hair. His voice changed, the anger breaking through. “Stop f*cking around and tell me who else you’ve trusted with this information and why you trusted them, and not me.”

Jaimie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. He looked cool and calm, but she knew him far too well. He was not only angry, he was hurt. Really hurt.

“Mack.” She had to work to keep her voice from trembling. He always affected her that way. She’d never been able to stand up to him when he became like this. It was far worse being naked. “Great interrogation technique. This isn’t fair.”

“You trusted someone else and you didn’t tell me. Did you expect me to be happy?”

“I gave you the information I had on Phillip Thornton. Any information I have on Whitney or proof I’ve collected, I have no problem sharing with you.”

“Why, Jaimie?” he asked, his voice quieter than ever.

She couldn’t stop herself from pushing back against him, trying desperately to force him to keep moving, but he held her firm, refusing to give her release. She set her teeth. “You stopped the trace.”

“Griffen’s phone has been bugged for a while. The setup’s been in place and they wouldn’t suddenly change it. Someone else was trying to get information about you. You, Jaimie. They were coming after you and it wasn’t Whitney or Thornton. Whoever is against Thornton and Whitney is also against every GhostWalker.” He bent his head until his lips were nearly against hers, his dark eyes boring into hers. “Let me tell you something, baby. Whether you like it or not, you’re a GhostWalker.”