Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(39)
Elle opened her eyes, a big smile on her sleepy face. “Something to say to me?”
He didn’t answer, just swept his thumb over her lips, propped on his elbow. “Why did you let me f*ck you bareback?”
She laughed. “Good morning to you too.”
“Answer me. That was f*cking dumb. I could have all sorts of diseases.” He didn’t; he got himself checked religiously twice per year, but she didn’t know that.
“You’re a stickler for security. The kind of man who would laminate his own dick. If anyone in this world is clean, it’s you. I’d bet my life on it.”
Which she actually had done.
“The million-dollar question here is, sunshine,” she continued unfazed by his hard tone, “why did you f*ck me bareback? I could have all sorts of diseases. I might not be clean. I’m a reckless loose bullet.”
Good question. A tantrum from her and she’d had him losing his goddamned mind in a parking lot, eating from her hand like a f*cking teenager, forgetting about everything. He knew Elle was reckless, but stupid she wasn’t. She was clean.
And now that he’d gotten to take her without protection, there was no way in hell he was going to suit up.
“Nothing else to tell me?” she asked after a long pause. “Not too skilled at morning-afters, are you?”
Nope, he wasn’t. He always went to the shower and suggested to the lady that she be gone by the time he came out, if they were in his apartment, which was very seldom. More often than not he would have his sexual encounters in hotels or in their places. Easier to leave. Less messy. Now? Now he couldn’t make a single muscle flex to move away from Elle. Mental.
“Okay, let me help you with that. What about, ‘Elle, my princess, you kicked ass. You blew my mind. You are the most beautiful woman in the world and the sexiest. Last night was the best, sweetheart.’”
“Do you need all those words to let me f*ck you again, pet?”
To his utter surprise, she laughed. “Nope, Borg.”
“Good.” He wasn’t much of a pillow talker.
He rolled them onto their sides and lifted her thigh over his, palming her ass proprietarily and delving lower.
“How sore are you?”
He caressed her sweet *, her folds puffy from the night, but she didn’t flinch; she rocked against his hand. “Not sore enough.”
At her words, his cock jerked. Man, such a tease. His kind of tease.
“Any more UV tattoos your dress covered?”
She smiled coyly. “Women do not reveal their secrets.”
He was going to get his hands on a black light. In a place where he could strip her.
She reached for his cock and palmed him. “I thought piercings were not allowed in the military.”
“And they aren’t.”
“So there’s a rebel streak on you.”
He didn’t answer and slid a finger in her, then moved some of her lube to her ass.
“No,” she said, tensing.
He stopped. “I’m not used to that word.”
“Get used to it. Anal sex is not my thing.”
“Have you given it up for anybody?”
She shook her head. “No and don’t get your hopes up because I won’t. I’m not comfortable with the idea. Contrary to what men seem to believe, the route to a woman’s heart isn’t through her ass.”
“You mean you don’t trust your lovers to give you what you need.”
She snorted. “And who says I need hemorrhoids?”
He would not give her hemorrhoids. Far from it. He would make her come explosively, but he would never take something that wasn’t offered freely. “Understood. Ass’s off-limits. Anything else I should know?”
She pondered for a second. “Yes. I like my orange juice without pulp.”
From the SUV, Nico watched the heavyset woman playing with the toddler in the front yard.
“Not her,” he muttered.
He’d hacked the company providing the IT services for the airline, and once he’d gotten the list of the people who had worked that morning shift, it had been a question of matching names with license pictures and comparing them to Marlene’s. There had been twenty-six women, of which only three could have passed for her. After some snooping around, he’d discarded two of them, and now, seeing Vivian Stone huffing and puffing under the blasting heat, trying to keep up with the kiddo, he discarded her too.
She might have been able to pass for Marlene some years back, when the picture on her driver’s license had been taken, but she was one of those ladies who married, had kids, and exploded, her ass expanding faster than the family’s credit line. No way did she dispatch their flight. Besides, she was safe and sound at home, taking care of her offspring, not under police surveillance.
“You don’t say,” the man sitting shotgun spat in disgust. “Jesus, when a toddler can outrun you, it’s time to take matters into you own hands and get your ass to Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig or major liposuction or whatever shit women do these days to stay slim. In between Photoshop and chicks using old pics, Carlitos Junior ain’t coming out to play until I see the bitch live and real.”
Nico didn’t answer, wishing Carlos would shut up. He didn’t have time for brainless idiots, and getting stuck with this moron rubbed him the wrong way.