This Year's Black (Killer Style 2)

At length, her eyes flicked open and a lazy grin curled her mouth. She continued to stroke him, increasing the pressure and pace with each pass. “Come for me, Devin.”

The buzzing in his balls reached a fevered pitch and they pulled close to the base of his cock. His hand covered hers and he tried to aim away from her, but she kept his dick pointed straight at her tits. “Ryder, I’m going to—”

“I know.” She twisted her wrist on the downward stroke. “Come. For. Me.”

Unable to deny her order, he surrendered to the vibrations building in his balls. The sensation intensified, stoking his pulse until the orgasm spurted from him all over her perfect tits.

Chest heaving, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his, claiming her—and that’s exactly what this was. She was his now, whether she realized it or not.

Chapter Thirteen

“Fashion is never in crisis because clothes are always necessary.”

— Achille Maramotti

Ryder’s eyes snapped open as the sound of a gong reverberated against her skull. Her phone vibrated just out of reach, notifying her of a text and then going silent.

Sated down to the depths of her soul, she considered ignoring the message. Devin snored beside her, oblivious to the noise. His brightly tattooed arm encircled her waist, holding her close. A rock was trying to fuse itself to her shoulder blade, or at least that’s what it felt like, but it had been there most of the night. Early morning light illuminated the tent’s interior, falling on her panties that had landed near the zipped closed front flap and Devin’s boxers still tangled inside his pants on the floor.

The gong sounded again.

“You gonna get that?” Devin’s voice, thick with sleep, brushed against her hair.

If she did, it meant she’d be letting the rest of the world into their tent haven. She’d have to leave his embrace and get dressed. They’d have to go find Sarah Molina and the money. Then they’d jet off the island and return home to Harbor City where they’d go their separate ways.

Which is exactly what she wanted.

So why was she ignoring her stupid phone as it gonged a third time?

“If you don’t answer it, they’ll just keep calling.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to the curve of her neck.

“God, I hate it when you’re right.” She swiped her phone off the floor and glanced at the screen. The clock read five-twenty-eight as she tapped the text message icon.

Carlos: SM’s GPS went on this morning. She’s on the move heading toward AC. Bonus, I intercepted a text she sent. All it said was: eight Earl Gray. That mean anything to you?

Earl Gray. The name sparked something in Ryder’s brain, but not enough. Closing her eyes, she blocked out the tent, Devin’s warm body so close to her, and the lingering citrusy hint of his cologne. Her eyes snapped open. That’s it. Smell. Tea Time smelled just like a freshly brewed pot of Earl Gray tea. Eight had to be eight o’clock.

She rolled over and grabbed Devin’s face between her hands. “We’ve got her.”

The contact sent a frisson of awareness skittering up her arm and she shivered. The shimmy drew his attention. His pupils dilated and his gaze locked on her mouth. She meant the kiss to be celebratory, but all it took was the touch of his lips to hers for the world to go off kilter again. Desire as strong as a lifelong hunger roared to the forefront and she wrapped her legs around his bare hips and twisted, flipping him onto his back. Holding his arms above his head, she kissed her way down his neck and sucked on his collarbone.

“Damn, you taste good first thing in the morning.” She licked along the bright purple curve of the tribal tattoo on his right pec. Her hand slithered down between their bodies to grasp his hard-on. “I could eat you right up—if there was time.”

“I just knew there had to be a catch.”

“Always.” She gave him a hard, quick kiss as the day’s details worked themselves out in her head. “You know it’s probably a trap.”

“She hasn’t exactly been trying to cover her tracks.”

“True.” Ryder weighed the options. Follow the coordinates and risk walking into a worse shit storm than they were in already? It sure as hell sounded like suicide. Then again, Sarah had a gift for hiding right out in the open, so there was no guarantee they’d get this close again before the merger deadline. “Sarah’s smart and she’s been onto us from the get-go, but it’s our best worst chance.”

Working alone, Ryder had a slim chance of success. Her gaze slid over to the half-naked man beside her. But together? If it was a trap, she had to make sure Devin made it out with enough time to call in her brother and the cavalry.

They had the where and the when. If they kept it simple—and didn’t get themselves killed—Sarah could fall right in their laps. They’d have her on the jet with the wheels up before her thugs even realized what had happened.

“You have good instincts, I trust you.” Devin tucked a hair behind her ear. “You should, too.”

Bounding up from his warmth before she got lost in him again, she slipped on her panties, washed her chest, and tossed Devin his clothes. “Get a move on, stud. I’ve got a plan.”