Wild Heat (Hot Shots: Men of Fire 1)
She reached for his shaft, but he knew he couldn't last much longer, so he dodged her hand and found a condom in his bedside table. He ripped open the package and was about to slide it on, when she held out her hand.
“I'd like to do the honors.”
He handed her the condom and held his breath as he watched her put the rubber on his thick head and slowly roll it down.
“It barely fits,” she whispered when it was halfway on. “You really do need the extra-large ones,” she said with a small smile.
He clenched his teeth, finding it impossible to joke around when her hands were on him and he was this close to losing it.
“You have five more seconds to get it on,” he warned.
“Or else?”
“Or else this,” he said, covering her hand with his own and sliding the condom the rest of the way before grasping her thighs in his hands and spreading her legs open wide for him.
The soft “Mmm” sound she made sent him over the edge and he thrust all the way inside.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders and even though he took her mouth as roughly as he did the rest of her, she was right there with him, driving him higher, wilder. He heard her gasp and call out his name and then everything went black as he spiraled into his own climax, his hips moving of their own will. Her inner muscles clenched and pulled around him, drawing out his orgasm.
He rolled them over so that she was nestled in the crook of his arm, and his lungs burned from exertion.
As he stroked her hair, he knew there was no point in thinking she was just an exceptional screw. She was all that and more. Much more.
He loved her.
He looked down at her face and saw that her eyes were closed, dark circles of exhaustion beneath them in sharp relief to her beautiful honey-tinged skin. She'd been through hell in the past couple of days. They both had.
Exhaustion pulled at Logan. With Maya safe in his arms, he gave in and slept.
Hours later, as night fell away and daylight returned, jealousy burned in the woods surrounding Logan's house.
She was there with him. Fucking him.
Goddamn it. Even after everything that had happened, they were still doing it like bunnies. Nothing was stopping them, not explosions or bombs or even deaths.
This time they'd finally pay.
And so would everyone they loved.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LOGAN FELT Maya stir, one of her thighs sliding against his. Sunlight streamed into the room and he was already rock hard, ready to take her again. He shifted their positions so that she was lying flat on the pillow and he was leaning on one elbow, looking down at her. Her eyelids fluttered as she awakened and he took a long moment to appreciate her high cheekbones, her lush mouth, the curve of her jaw, and her long, smooth neck.
She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, the only one he wanted in his bed for the rest of his life.
Her eyes opened and she smiled at him, stretching her arm up to press her palm flat against his chest. “Hi.”
He smiled back, relishing her touch, loving that she was in his bed and not looking for an excuse to leave. “Did I wake you up?”
She rubbed her hip against his erection. “Something did.”
“I want you again, Maya. Badly.”
“Then take me. Now.”
Women had frequently praised him for his smooth moves, for his control. Their pleasure came first, no matter what. But he'd never been this tempted, this desperate.
“You make me lose control,” he said as he pushed her thighs open with his knees.
“Good.”
She pulled his head down and kissed him just as she lifted her hips and took him inside her soft heat. He hadn't touched her in hours, but she was as ready for him as he was for her.
He kissed her hard, holding himself rigid and unmoving within her. More than anything, he wanted to thrust once, twice, three times, and come with her squeezing him tightly, no rubber barrier between them. But it was too soon. She wasn't ready to commit to a lifetime with him. Yet.
He forced himself to slide all the way out, even when the small sounds of disappointment coming from her throat clouded his thinking, and had a condom on in less than thirty seconds, rolling over so that she was straddling him. She smiled again, a seductive grin that made him even harder, and then her quadriceps tightened as she shifted into place above his shaft. Balancing her hands on his chest, she slowly lowered herself down onto him, one inch at a time.
It killed Logan not to thrust high and hard into her slick heat. Finally—Lord, it couldn't have been soon enough—she settled down onto his base, her soft, round butt cheeks pressing into the tendons across his hips. And then she was lifting herself nearly all the way, only to come crashing back down, over and over, harder, faster each time.
She threw her head back and arched her spine as she rode him, her br**sts bouncing in rhythm to her thrusts. He slid one hand to her ass, the other to her tits, and stroked her, groaning his encouragement. He was unable to hold back his orgasm until she'd found her own pleasure.
Gripping Maya's hips hard with both hands, he held her hard against him as his shaft twitched and jumped within her tight canal. She ground her hips against his groin as she cried out his name, her inner muscles squeezing him.
She collapsed onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around her rib cage and waist. They were still catching their breath when he said, “I don't want there to be any secrets between us anymore, Maya. I want to tell you about the reasons I used to play with fire.” He hoped that if he opened up completely, she would too.
Maya shifted slightly to look at him. “I'm listening,” she said, her eyes soft, already filled with under standing.
“I was ten years old the first time I lit a fire.” He remembered that hot summer afternoon well, when a pile of leaves and a match became an epiphany. “My father was a difficult man to be around. A grade-A ass**le, actually.”
“I can't imagine that. It must have been hard for you.”
“Harder for my mother. She cried a lot. I figured out pretty early on that sticking up for her only made things worse. I was hiding from them, kicking through piles of dry leaves, when I found a box of matches on the ground. I'm not going to lie to you. That first fire was awesome. Dangerous. I felt like a goddamned superhero.”
“Any boy would have.”
Her insight, the fact that she wasn't judging him for what he'd done, meant the world to him. “That first fire didn't last long. Thirty seconds, maybe a minute. But it was just enough smoke and flame to make me excited. And a little nervous.”
eached for his shaft, but he knew he couldn't last much longer, so he dodged her hand and found a condom in his bedside table. He ripped open the package and was about to slide it on, when she held out her hand.
“I'd like to do the honors.”
He handed her the condom and held his breath as he watched her put the rubber on his thick head and slowly roll it down.
“It barely fits,” she whispered when it was halfway on. “You really do need the extra-large ones,” she said with a small smile.
He clenched his teeth, finding it impossible to joke around when her hands were on him and he was this close to losing it.
“You have five more seconds to get it on,” he warned.
“Or else?”
“Or else this,” he said, covering her hand with his own and sliding the condom the rest of the way before grasping her thighs in his hands and spreading her legs open wide for him.
The soft “Mmm” sound she made sent him over the edge and he thrust all the way inside.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders and even though he took her mouth as roughly as he did the rest of her, she was right there with him, driving him higher, wilder. He heard her gasp and call out his name and then everything went black as he spiraled into his own climax, his hips moving of their own will. Her inner muscles clenched and pulled around him, drawing out his orgasm.
He rolled them over so that she was nestled in the crook of his arm, and his lungs burned from exertion.
As he stroked her hair, he knew there was no point in thinking she was just an exceptional screw. She was all that and more. Much more.
He loved her.
He looked down at her face and saw that her eyes were closed, dark circles of exhaustion beneath them in sharp relief to her beautiful honey-tinged skin. She'd been through hell in the past couple of days. They both had.
Exhaustion pulled at Logan. With Maya safe in his arms, he gave in and slept.
Hours later, as night fell away and daylight returned, jealousy burned in the woods surrounding Logan's house.
She was there with him. Fucking him.
Goddamn it. Even after everything that had happened, they were still doing it like bunnies. Nothing was stopping them, not explosions or bombs or even deaths.
This time they'd finally pay.
And so would everyone they loved.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LOGAN FELT Maya stir, one of her thighs sliding against his. Sunlight streamed into the room and he was already rock hard, ready to take her again. He shifted their positions so that she was lying flat on the pillow and he was leaning on one elbow, looking down at her. Her eyelids fluttered as she awakened and he took a long moment to appreciate her high cheekbones, her lush mouth, the curve of her jaw, and her long, smooth neck.
She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, the only one he wanted in his bed for the rest of his life.
Her eyes opened and she smiled at him, stretching her arm up to press her palm flat against his chest. “Hi.”
He smiled back, relishing her touch, loving that she was in his bed and not looking for an excuse to leave. “Did I wake you up?”
She rubbed her hip against his erection. “Something did.”
“I want you again, Maya. Badly.”
“Then take me. Now.”
Women had frequently praised him for his smooth moves, for his control. Their pleasure came first, no matter what. But he'd never been this tempted, this desperate.
“You make me lose control,” he said as he pushed her thighs open with his knees.
“Good.”
She pulled his head down and kissed him just as she lifted her hips and took him inside her soft heat. He hadn't touched her in hours, but she was as ready for him as he was for her.
He kissed her hard, holding himself rigid and unmoving within her. More than anything, he wanted to thrust once, twice, three times, and come with her squeezing him tightly, no rubber barrier between them. But it was too soon. She wasn't ready to commit to a lifetime with him. Yet.
He forced himself to slide all the way out, even when the small sounds of disappointment coming from her throat clouded his thinking, and had a condom on in less than thirty seconds, rolling over so that she was straddling him. She smiled again, a seductive grin that made him even harder, and then her quadriceps tightened as she shifted into place above his shaft. Balancing her hands on his chest, she slowly lowered herself down onto him, one inch at a time.
It killed Logan not to thrust high and hard into her slick heat. Finally—Lord, it couldn't have been soon enough—she settled down onto his base, her soft, round butt cheeks pressing into the tendons across his hips. And then she was lifting herself nearly all the way, only to come crashing back down, over and over, harder, faster each time.
She threw her head back and arched her spine as she rode him, her br**sts bouncing in rhythm to her thrusts. He slid one hand to her ass, the other to her tits, and stroked her, groaning his encouragement. He was unable to hold back his orgasm until she'd found her own pleasure.
Gripping Maya's hips hard with both hands, he held her hard against him as his shaft twitched and jumped within her tight canal. She ground her hips against his groin as she cried out his name, her inner muscles squeezing him.
She collapsed onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around her rib cage and waist. They were still catching their breath when he said, “I don't want there to be any secrets between us anymore, Maya. I want to tell you about the reasons I used to play with fire.” He hoped that if he opened up completely, she would too.
Maya shifted slightly to look at him. “I'm listening,” she said, her eyes soft, already filled with under standing.
“I was ten years old the first time I lit a fire.” He remembered that hot summer afternoon well, when a pile of leaves and a match became an epiphany. “My father was a difficult man to be around. A grade-A ass**le, actually.”
“I can't imagine that. It must have been hard for you.”
“Harder for my mother. She cried a lot. I figured out pretty early on that sticking up for her only made things worse. I was hiding from them, kicking through piles of dry leaves, when I found a box of matches on the ground. I'm not going to lie to you. That first fire was awesome. Dangerous. I felt like a goddamned superhero.”
“Any boy would have.”
Her insight, the fact that she wasn't judging him for what he'd done, meant the world to him. “That first fire didn't last long. Thirty seconds, maybe a minute. But it was just enough smoke and flame to make me excited. And a little nervous.”