Lost and Found (Masters & Mercenaries: The Forgotten #2)(52)

His tongue fucked up inside her, thrusting the way his cock would. Over and over he tongued her and his thumb found her clit, pressing down and rotating.

She went over the edge, clutching at his shoulders and calling out his name.

It was over far too soon and he was backing away, his lips glistening with the evidence of her orgasm.

“Now, love, it’s my turn.”

She took a deep breath, ready for whatever came next.





Owen had to force his hands to stop shaking. She’d been everything he’d dreamed of, hot and ready for him, so sexy he couldn’t stand it. Her body was curvy and intensely fuckable. Even in his brief life, he’d had many women, and none of them moved him the way she did. Not a single one of the subs he’d played with kept him up at night, thinking about her. Not a one of them had managed to chase away the demons that plagued him.

He’d spent the last several days thinking about her, plotting how to have her again. He might have looked calm on the outside, but inside the woman was turning him into a madman.

He was worse than Robert about Ariel, and that was saying something.

But Robert hadn’t just shoved his tongue up his woman’s pussy and made her cry out his name. Robert couldn’t taste his woman on his lips, smell her all around him. Damn but that scent was the sexiest thing he’d ever known. Becca smelled like sex and need and comfort.

He kissed her one last time right on her soft, plump pussy and promised himself he would be right back there soon.

She was fooling herself. She might go on that date tomorrow, but he would be the one in her bed that night. He would make sure of it.

He’d put on his sheep’s clothing. He could play the modern man, but his wolf would come out in the end. His wolf would howl until he had what he wanted—her.

She looked sweetly disheveled, her hair brushing the tops of her breasts, her skin flushed a pretty pink. “Your turn. What do you want me to do?”

Everything. All at once. She was responding beautifully to his topping her. She hadn’t seemed scared or self-conscious about her body. She’d strode up to him bold as brass and offered herself to him.

He got to his feet and helped her balance as she moved that shapely leg back down to the floor. Fuck but she was gorgeous. She was gorgeous and smart and way too good for him.

And it didn’t fucking matter because he’d figured out he did have something to offer her. She’d been scared tonight. She’d been disconcerted, and it had all drifted away when he’d topped her. She wasn’t thinking about what had happened at the office now. She was utterly focused on him, and that was exactly how he wanted it.

For the op, of course. Not because the way she looked at him did funny things to his soul. Not because he’d already started thinking about how he might keep her.

Jax had. Jax’s wife now traveled with them. River was part of the team.

River didn’t run a research facility. River wasn’t a bloody doctor. There was no way Becca Walsh would walk away from everything for love. She had a career.

This wasn’t going to end the same way Jax’s op had. And that was a very good reason to enjoy her while he could. He might find what he needed tonight. After she fell asleep, he could search her place, find the package, and the bloody op would be over. They would move on and he wouldn’t see her again.

“Take my shirt off.”

He wanted to feel her hands on him. His cock was dying, but there was no way he would give in so easily. He would fuck her long and hard, but if this was the only time he had with her, he was going to play.

She was breathless as her hands went to the buttons of his shirt.

He’d fucked her so fast the first time, there was no way she’d gotten a good look at his chest. At his skin, really. The doctors had done an excellent job of clearing up the terrible reaction he’d had to the drugs Dr. McDonald had pumped through his system. His skin had been ravaged for months, and he still had some scarring.

Would it bug her?

She unbuttoned his shirt and eased it off him, and he saw the moment she caught sight of the scarring. It was faint now, but it would be on his skin forever. It had gotten as light as it ever would, he’d been told.

She draped the shirt over the edge of her couch and turned back to him. Her fingers skimmed over his chest and the sides of his torso, where it was worst. “This was an allergic reaction.”

He had a story prepared. “When I was younger I had a bad reaction to a drug I took after I was injured. It’s nothing. It’s a whisper of something that happened.”

“What was the drug?” she asked.

He wasn’t going into this. He would get caught in a lie. “Becca, nothing but feeling tonight. Take off my belt.”

“But most drugs don’t have dermatological reactions like this. At least not ones on the market.” She was staring at the scars.

He wasn’t going to become some research subject for her. He’d already been that. She might not know it, but she’d played a part in the drugs that had scarred him for life. He didn’t blame her. He was almost certain she had zero knowledge of what her work had been used for, but he wasn’t about to indulge her curiosity now that she’d gotten some relief.

And she’d given him an excellent excuse to find out how she liked the disciplinary aspect of D/s.

“Turn around, grip the side of the couch, and present yourself to me.”