Taking the Heat (Shadow Stalkers #2)(4)
Author: Sylvia Day

He gasped when she pushed a second finger inside him, the slight burn sending a violent shudder through his frame. She rose to her knees, her hair falling over his hips, her mouth sucking in a greedy, demanding tempo. Her fingers moved in and out, f**king his ass.

“Damn it, Layla. You’re shredding me.” The shock and instinctive recoil he felt was tempered because it was Layla who touched him. She was already so deep inside him, so much a part of him, that ceding the intimacy to her was a natural extension of that connection. It also felt surprisingly good. Without conscious thought, both of his knees fell wide, encouraging more forceful thrusts of her hand.

“I’m going to kill whoever taught you this,” he bit out. “String him up and castrate the motherfucker. Ah . . . shit, baby. I’m gonna come. Slow down.”

The sounds filling the room—her vibrating moans and his tortured growls, the voracious suckling and the rhythmic thudding connection of her knuckles to the lower curve of his buttocks—were driving him insane. His dick was so hard it hurt, his balls drawn up tight and full. She owned him, possessed him completely, and he felt his surrender burn through him like a fever.

“I’m gonna come hard,” he warned hoarsely. “Ease up, baby. Now. Ah . . . fuck! ”

She’d found his prostate. Rubbing the gland swift and hard, she threw him over the edge.

Mindless with the savage, wrenching pleasure, Brian cried out and cli**xed violently, his hands in her hair, his h*ps bucking. His head slammed back into the pillows, his eyes and jaw squeezed shut, his spine so stiff he thought it might break.

He pumped her mouth full and couldn’t stop, years of pent-up lust and longing exploding from his aching dick with a force that felt ripped from his vitals. Her hungry moans made his head thrash; her greedy swallows barely kept up. Her evil fingers still worked his ass, coaxing every drop from him until he collapsed into the mattress.

Dripping with sweat, he forced his cramped fingers to release their grip on her hair. She gave one last hard suck, then straightened. In a distant part of his ecstasy-dazed mind, he heard her pad to the bathroom and run the sink. That short distance between them was too much. He needed her next to him, with him, where he could hold on to her and never let go again.

“Leave the light on when you come out,” he said gruffly. “Keep the door cracked.”

Layla stepped into view a moment later, nak*d and flushed and so damn beautiful his heart thudded painfully in his chest. His dick twitched, a response that shouldn’t have been possible after the orgasm that just shattered him, but wasn’t totally unexpected with her. He’d been built for her, designed to please her. As long as her hot little body was hungry for cock, his body was ready to give it to her.

“Come here.” His arms lifted to embrace her. “Kiss me.”

She draped her body over his. The moment their lips touched, Brian rolled her beneath him, his head angling to form a tighter seal. His tongue thrust in slow and easy, stroking alongside hers, gliding over the soft recesses. She quivered and moaned, surrendering, her body going lax and pliant beneath his. He pushed a thigh between hers, finding her p**sy slick and swollen. She’d always gotten off on his pleasure. Because she loved him. He knew she loved him still or she couldn’t have touched him so intimately. But that didn’t mean she loved him like she used to, with her heart and soul, and not just because of fond memories and the connection they’d shared through Jacob.

Lifting from her, he bent his head and caught a hard, peaked nipple in his mouth. He groaned at the feel of her on his tongue, the joy of having her close, the relief from the constant ache he’d lived with the last five years of his life.

Layla bit her lip and whimpered as Brian’s tongue curled around the tip of her breast. The vibrations of his groan sent ripples of sensation skipping across her nerves. She arched her spine, fisting her hands in the bottom sheet. His skin was hot and damp to the touch, his scent sifting through her mind like intoxicating smoke.

From the time she was sixteen, she’d been drawn to his clean masculine smell. Her primal attraction to him had ultimately exposed her love to her brother. Jacob had caught her sleeping in one of Brian’s shirts and he tore her a new one. It was Brian who told him to lay off, waving her thievery aside as if it was just aggravating kid sister shit. But he’d shot her a look that gave him away, a look that revealed a tempered hunger that made her ache. She’d known then that he was aware of her the way she wanted him to be—as a woman.

The next two years of waiting to turn eighteen had seemed endless. Just as the last five had.

“Brian.” She touched his broad shoulders, stroking over the lean flexing muscles with a soft hum of delight.

He bit lightly on her nipple, the tip elongated by his suckling. Nuzzling his way across her chest, he paid the same focused attention to her other breast, plumping the swollen flesh with his large callused hand. She was barely a handful, but he worshipped her tits as if they were the best pair on the planet.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praised, squeezing her hip before sliding lower. “I’ve dreamed of having you like this again . . . hungered for it until it gnawed at me. Your body is like food and water to me, Layla. I can’t live without it.”

She closed her eyes, fighting back tears and words she couldn’t afford to say.

When he slid between her thighs, she opened to him as he’d opened to her. Not just to take pleasure, but to give it. Knowing the sounds she made, her unrestrained reactions to his touch soothed something ferocious inside him.

Brian draped her leg over his shoulder, his lips kissing their way down her inner thigh to the tender flesh clenching in emptiness. She’d felt empty for so long. So lonely and alone.

She had walked away from him because she’d needed to be the one that left, instead of the one that was always left behind. She knew she couldn’t survive another official car pulling up to her house, carrying men bearing the news that someone else she loved was gone forever. She had cut the tie first, but she’d paid the price. She was still paying it.

He pressed a soft kiss to her clit, then massaged it with the pointed tip of his tongue.

“Later,” she said, staying him.

His head lifted, his gaze meeting hers. His smile was wolfish, but it faded. Whatever he saw on her face, he knew what she needed.

He came over her in a rippling display of gorgeously delineated biceps, washboard abs, and long thick cock. Biting her lip, she slung one leg over his hip, wanting him inside her more than she wanted to live to see another day. A soft sound escaped her when she felt the wide crest part the slick folds of her p**sy.

“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.” Brian cupped her buttock, canting her slightly, making it easier for her to take the first hard inch.

Heat flared across skin, flushing her.

“So pretty,” he murmured, pushing deeper. “I love the way you blush when I slide into you. And, God . . . I f**king love the way you feel. So tight and hot. So slick. Your cunt gets so wet for me.”

She lifted her hips, needing faster and deeper. “Hurry.”

His gaze was on her face, tender and searching. “Didn’t we already talk about rushing?”

“I need you in me. You can slow down once you’re there.”

“You’re tight as a virgin, Layla.” He slid a fraction deeper, his eyes darkening as her p**sy rippled greedily. “You feel like you did the first time I had you.”

Turning her head, she pressed her hot cheek into the cool pillowcase. She’d tried starting a relationship with someone else, gave it her best shot and stayed with great guys longer than she should have. But after a couple years of trying her damnedest, she’d given up. She was hurting men who didn’t deserve to be hurt and she was hurting herself.

Brian caught her face in both hands. “Open your eyes, Layla.”

Her neck arched as he withdrew a little bit, then pushed deeper.

“Look at me,” he coaxed. “Let me watch you take my cock.”

Her lids lifted. She watched him, too. Watched his skin tighten over his cheekbones, watched the pleasure cross his face like the sweetest agony. He worked into her with slow easy drives, holding her gaze as the connection deepened. Tugging him closer with her legs, Layla lifted as he bore down, the pleasure hot and drugging.

The leisurely penetration felt like a deep inner massage and she moaned. “Brian, please . . .”

His tongue followed the curve of his lower lip, his look so fiercely sexual she trembled with the force of her desire. “There,” he purred, rolling his h*ps and pushing home. He stroked in and out, then pushed his torso upright. “You’ve got all of me.”

God, how she wished that was true.

With her legs draped over his thighs, Brian looked down between them. “I’ve dreamed of this. Dreamed of filling you again. So many damn times.”

His thick c*ck pulled free to the crest. The vein-corded length pushed back into her, stretching her deliciously. His raw, serrated groan of pleasure made her come.

“Oh!” She trembled violently as the cli**x hit her. “Brian.”

“Yeah,” he growled, holding her h*ps and pounding through her orgasm, driving deep and hard. His head bent to her breast, his mouth surrounding an aching nipple and working it with his tongue, his hands keeping her still as his c*ck shafted her convulsing p**sy with savage hunger.

She clung to his wrists and fought for breath, the mattress squeaking under the ferocity of his thrusts, her body quaking with the violence of her pleasure.

“Me, too, baby.” He gasped. “Ah, shit . . . me, too.”

He crushed her against him, his h*ps grinding against hers as he emptied his seed deep inside her.

“Layla.” He gripped the sides of her head and rubbed his cheek against hers. “Layla.”

Closing her stinging eyes, she held on as tightly as she could.

Chapter 5

Showered, dressed, and standing over the bed, Brian woke Layla with a gentle tug on her ear with his teeth.

“Put it away, stallion,” she muttered, clutching tighter at the pillow in her arms.

He laughed, his love for her a purring beast in his chest. “I’ve got a hot bath waiting for you. I’m going to grab something to go from the diner, make a couple calls, then gas up the truck. I should be back in about thirty minutes, then we’ve got to hit the road.”

“What time is it?”

“Seven thirty.”

“Oh, man . . .”

He smacked her ass through the sheets. She’d never been a morning person. On nights like the one behind them, she usually didn’t roll out of bed until after noon. “You can sleep in the car.”

“How can you be awake right now?” she groused. “I’m dead.”

“Sex with you is invigorating. You keep me going.”

“Don’t remind me.”

For all her complaints, when he pulled the sheet back and trailed his lips along the curve of her back, she moaned with pleasure and arched into the contact. The bruises on her elbows were darker than they’d been the day before, reminding him of how fragile she was.

“Be a good girl,” he whispered against her skin, “and I’ll reward you later.”

One bloodshot eye opened and glared at him. “You owe me.”

“I’ll pay. Gladly.” Brian straightened and backed away from the temptation her sleep-soft nak*d body presented. He’d f**ked her for hours, finally managing to pull away from her when sunlight peeked around the edges of the blackout drapes. But he still had so many nights to make up for. He’d had little appetite for sex since she left him and it felt as if every hunger that had been dammed up behind his heartache was breaking loose. “Don’t forget to pack the lube.”

She held up a hand, revealing the bottle clutched in her fist.

The smile on his face fled the moment he left the room. Before he walked away, he made certain the latch was firmly engaged. The morning was cool and gray, with a slight nip in the air. With a baseball cap pulled down low over his forehead, he kept a careful surveillance of his surroundings. He took a weed-riddled path through a copse of trees to the strip mall up the road, where he’d parked the Bronco. There, he bought a newspaper from a coin-operated stand in front of a grocery store and looked for any signs that the vehicle had been staked out. Digging one of the disposable cell phones out of his pocket, he called Jim.

“Hey,” the deputy answered. “You all right?”

“So far. How are things on your end?”

“They’re not looking at me for anything, so you’re still clean with the car. But you’re the lead person of interest, of course. Your mug has been sent to every law enforcement agency across the country. The heat is on, my man.”

“I can take it.” He’d expected it. He had survived the blast and taken off with the witness. To call that suspicious would be an understatement. “Thanks, Jim.”

“Take care. I won’t breathe easy until you get to San Diego.”

“You and me both.”

Brian ended the call and dismantled the phone. Then he pulled out another one and called the assistant U.S. attorney in San Diego to assure her that Layla Creed would appear on the witness stand as scheduled. He made the call short and to the point, despite the groggy AUSA’s valiant efforts to get more details out of him. He took that phone apart, too, and as he passed a parked pickup truck, he tossed the pieces in the bed. Then he drove the Bronco to a gas station and back to the motel, where he grabbed some foil-wrapped breakfast burritos and coffee from the adjacent diner.

When he returned to the room, he found Layla packed up, bathed and dressed, and falling asleep at the small table under the window. He loaded the suitcases into the truck, then came back for her.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep.” She pushed to her feet, slapped a hat on her head, and set her hand in his. She’d pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail, showing off the slender neck he loved to run his lips over. She wore jeans and a T-shirt with body armor over the shirt, and his flannel from the day before over that. Call him a caveman, but he loved the idea of her wearing his scent. Loved that she’d always wanted to and still did.