Last Breath (Hitman #2)(51)
Author: Jessica Clare

“You should come to Texas,” I blurt out because my mouth is still being run by the little head which is growing harder with each passing moment. Suddenly I want to shed a few tears. How did I not think to buy condoms at the farmácia? Shit, could I glue my dick shut? No, I’d end up busting a nut—literally—by the unpurged sperm.

“Yeah?” she asks, wiping away the moisture on her cheeks.

“Yeah.” Now that I’ve voiced the idea, I’m warming to it. I can totally see Regan on my ranch, wearing one of my old work shirts with the flaps tied under her boobs like a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. Her smooth belly would be bared to the sun, and her tight jeans would sit low on her hips. We’d ride out into the pasture and watch the sun sink below the last visible strip of land, until only the stars and the deep midnight of the night sky blanketed us. I’d lay her down on a magically-produced blanket, and we’d make sweet love amongst the silver sage that grows wild on the fields. “You could learn to ride. My mom makes a mean sweet tea and pot roast. After dinner, we’d walk down to the pond and listen to the crickets tell each other secrets about the day. Later that night, I’d take you to the old foreman’s cabin and pleasure you until the sun came up the next day.”

“Sounds lovely.” She tucks her head under my chin and I pull the covers up so she’s not chilled by the air conditioning. “Maybe you could come to Minneapolis. It’s as cold as the arctic and without the cute penguins.”

“It sounds irresistible.” But it has you, I think; and sappy as that may be, it’s all I need.

“Your dick is trying to push its way into the wrong place.” She wiggles her ass a little, like she’s not all that averse to the feeling.

“Can’t be helped. You’re naked, lying on top of me. We got done having atom-rattling sex and my cock’s not a dummy. He knows there’s a hot, tight, wet little place for him.” I shift her slightly and rub my cock along her ever-increasingly wet slit. We both groan. “Just ignore it.” But I palm her ass with both hands, allowing my fingers to pull her cunt lips apart so that more of her juicy pussy slides along the hard ridge of my cock.

“Ignore what?” she gasps, and there aren’t any tears in her eyes, just a growing haze of lust.

“Nothing, fighter. That’s not my cock rubbing your cunt right now. You aren’t getting wetter by the minute. I’m not holding your apple plump ass cheeks in my palms.” Digging my heels into the mattress, I angle my hips up and the head of my cock tip slides right into her bare pussy. My eyes roll back. “Oh darlin’,” I groan. My fingertips press into her flesh, opening her even more. Knowing this is wrong but not being able to stop, I pump into her shallowly. Each time, my cock dives a little deeper into her slick, hot channel. “You play ‘I never?’” I ask. “Because I’ve never felt anything so good as riding bareback in your tight little pussy.”

She’s panting now. “It feels incredible. I swear I can feel every vein and ridge on your cock. You feel enormous.”

Her words make me swell longer and harder than I’ve ever been. “I don’t have a motherfucking condom,” I curse, but she doesn’t climb off and I can’t bring myself to pull out. Worse, she squeezes me tight and I feel like shooting a truckload of spunk into her right then. "I know this sounds stupid, but I swear I’m clean. We got checked regularly in the army for everything.” And we both knew she was clean from the post-rescue clinic visit.

She nods and then clenches around me again. “Yes.” It comes out on a breathy, sexual sigh.

With one surge, I’m seated to the hilt and Regan lets out a low, keening cry. Her forehead drops down to mine and I take her mouth, fucking her with my tongue and cock. She responds with a matching hunger. This time it’s a frenzied, crazy fuck—our bodies slapping against each other like we’re in a race to see who can drive the other mad first. The palms of her hands are digging into my shoulders, but the pain is a welcome sign of how needy she is for me.

I’m pistoning inside her with long, hard strokes. Lifting her slightly and then pulling her back down. “Harder, fuck me harder, Daniel,” she moans into my mouth. The taunt, the plea, whatever it was, bursts through my fogged brain and I flip her over onto her back and fold her legs so that her ass is titled upward. In the next motion, I’ve sheathed myself inside her again, pounding into her as she digs her heels into my shoulders and her nails bite into the sides of my thighs. She’s marking me, my hindbrain chortles, and I love it.

“You’re so hot, so beautiful right now,” I tell her. “Your cunt is swallowing me up, like a hungry flower.” The tension of my orgasm has gathered at the base of my spine and I’m ready to spend all over her. “You coming with me, Regan?” I growl at her. “Come with me.”

I lift one leg over my shoulder and reach around so that I can roll her clit between my fingers. I need her to share this moment with me. My fingers catch and tease and pinch her clit as I stroke her with fast, hard thrusts. She’s crying now, but it’s clearly from pleasure. Her head is thrashing back and forth on the bed until her orgasm overtakes her, tensing her whole body as she bows up off the bed. Her climax causes her pussy to clamp down on me, and it takes superhuman strength to wrench out of her. I palm my throbbing cock and come jets out of me and all over her stomach and tits. I feel like I come for hours, and when the red hot fog of lust evaporates, I see that she’s covered in me. The streaks of milky-white semen look like abstract art on her flushed flesh and I feel more amazing than fucking Picasso.

I can’t stop myself from spreading it around, rubbing it into her pelvis and her stomach and up the underside of her breasts. “You look good in my come.”

She barely has the energy to stick her tongue out at me but manages a small snort. Her face is turned to the side of the mattress, and she’s trying to catch her breath. Me too. I fall down beside her, still rubbing my come into her skin.

“You’re an animal,” she whispers, but it’s not an insult. It’s a simple observation and a true one at that.

“No doubt, fighter.” I draw her close to me, and this time our kiss is languid and exploratory instead of a frenzied meeting of mouth and teeth and tongue. Her lips are petal soft, and she tastes like home, better than my mom’s sweet tea and pot roast. I could live on her taste and nothing else.