Billi Jean (30 page)

His face was flushed dark with an intense, hungry look. But whatever Russell wanted, she knew she’d love. Slowly, he tightened his grip on her hair, and flexed his hips so the tip of his velvety cock pushed against her lips. “Hold my thighs, that’s it. Let me fuck your mouth, let me have this.”

Oh, my God.
Had she ever heard anything so amazing? A rush of moisture flowed from her and she knew, absolutely knew it was dripping from her. She sat back on her heels and carefully placed her hands on her thighs. Russell’s eyes flared almost black and he licked his lips. His eyes shot down to her thighs, then back up to her breasts and on to her face. Reaching up, she trailed her palms over his legs, moving them around to cup his firm ass before, with a smile, she did as he asked and settled them on his thighs.

“Fuck, you are hot.” He butted her mouth with his erection. The warm, rounded head slipped over her lips, but he pulled his hips back when she opened her mouth. “That’s it, open for me. I want you to touch yourself with one hand.”

When she hesitated, he smiled down at her hand, used a thumb to caress her cheek. She kissed his thumb.

“Come on, baby, come with me.”

Oh, God.
She loved that sexy growl. With a shiver, she took one hand off him and trailed her fingertips from her neck down between her breasts to lightly graze her own stomach, and then spread her legs and touched her own pussy. The first small caress had Russell pressing his erect cock past her lips and tongue. His groan sounded so sexy, she used two fingers and traced her own clit.

“Holy shit, yeah. Do that. So hot, so hot.”

When she reached up and pinched her own nipple Russell went wild. She watched his flushed face grow tense as he shoved along her tongue until she felt his thick head hit the back of her throat. She gagged, but he withdrew and pulled free, then did the same thing, each time flexing his hips, pressing her to take a bit more.

Her jaw felt stretched almost too wide with each long, slow thrust. His penis was so thick, so long, she moaned softly when she only managed part of him. Russell’s head fell back when she did. Each and every muscle of his stomach and chest flexed.

Touching her own aroused flesh, she moaned again at how hot and wet she was. She was dripping for him. So aroused, her fingers felt like paradise. Russell cursed when he looked down and saw her. She could see his chest rise and fall with each breath as his thrusts became a bit more out of control. Excitement shivered along every nerve. She felt on the verge of coming. She’d never masturbated this way before, on her knees, and certainly not in front of anyone, but Russell’s body, his reactions, his hard penis pressing and shoving along her mouth—all of it swirled into a toxic cocktail of pure lust.

“Ah, fuck, Susan, baby, God yeah, so good, so good. Open for me, baby.”

His voice was rough with passion, his muscles strained, both his hands started to tremble on her head and she was going to come. It was so erotic, so bad, so
Russell
at his most wicked. She flicked her clit once more with her wet fingers, and began to feel the tingle before the pleasure.

“Ah, God, yeah, yeah. Come with me baby. Keep your eyes open. See me. See who’s giving you this. Take it, baby, take it. For me. Give me this, Susan.”

The last broken plea was more than she could take. She felt herself shattering, flying with a rush of pleasure. Russell suddenly dragged his erection from her, practically tossed her down on the bed and thrust her thighs open to shove himself in so deep she thought she’d feel him forever. His sweaty body covered her. His hot breath feathered over her neck and, with a roughness that excited her, he shoved her legs up against his chest and pinned her down to tunnel into her with desperate thrusts. It was too much. It was perfect. It was amazing. Digging her nails into his back, she held on because there was nothing else to do. He possessed her, took everything and gave her so much back she trembled with the force of her orgasm.

Firm, hard, wild thrusts filled her world and suddenly, in the midst of it all, Russell shouted her name and his hot release filled her. If she could have died from the pleasure, she would have. It was so good she never wanted him to stop. His low, long grunts as his body shuddered filled her with as much pleasure as the twisting, circular path ripping through her body and spinning her out of control.

Just as the sensations started to fall from breathless heights, Russell pulled from her, tossed her on her hands and knees and frantically mounted her. He was rough and out of control and this time he truly did mount and take her. There were no sweet words, no softness at all from him, just Russell using her so hard he made rug burns on her hand and knees. One big arm squeezed her tight around her tummy; the other was fisted in the mattress inches from their faces and he was rutting like a wild man.

It was so delicious, all she could do was explode with pleasure. “More, more, Russell. More.”

He groaned her name. His erection swelled thicker and stiffer, enough to make her tremble with need as he shafted her urgently. She felt trapped, unable to move, unable to control this or him, and she wanted more. It was so exciting she cried out and arched as much as she could, bucking into him, meeting each thrust until she was spent and limp with the force of her climax.

“Damn, damn, baby.” Russell’s voice penetrated her senses, sounding urgent and ragged. His thrusts became wild and unsteady as he neared his climax. She felt him stiffen, his hands gripped her tight enough to leave bruises, then with deep, sharp lunges, he buried himself and collapsed on her, his erection jerking with the forceful blast of heat. Tears filled her eyes and fell past her lids, but she rubbed her face on her own arm to hide her reaction. She wanted him here—behind her, inside her, on top of her, just
with
her, not leaving. Not going away.

“Baby.”

She couldn’t speak. Not yet. It was all too much. Tears stung her eyes, but she held the rest back, unwilling to cry in front of him. No need to show him that. God only knew what he’d think. Her father never could understand her tears, and no doubt Russell wouldn’t, either.

“Susan, talk to me, baby.” He was breathless, and still hard. “I lost control there. Was I too rough?”

“No, Russell. Never.”

His breath puffed warm and fast against her neck. Shifting behind her, she shivered when she felt something like a kiss, hesitant and light, along her shoulders when he moved off her. Was he worried? He hadn’t been worried about his sexual aggressiveness since those first few days.

Slowly, she felt his muscles bunch around her and he leant back, withdrawing from her body slowly. One hand rested on her butt, caressing and lingering near certain areas she knew he was interested in exploring. He’d not said a word, but he often took her from behind, pressing his thumb along her ass when she was climaxing. Once or twice, he’d even pushed against her there, making her wild but also confused and more than a little worried. Russell wasn’t a small man, and his fingertip breaching her ass was one thing, but his erection? A whole different venture she might not be willing to take.

“Baby, I have to go.”

She let her head sag against the floor and sighed. “I know. I kind of thought you might.”

“I’ll try to call.”

She turned her head to meet his grey eyes and wished he’d give her more. But she knew that was a lot. Russell never said anything he didn’t mean. He must not care for her, not like she cared for him, like she…loved him. God, she loved him. And now what? He was leaving. And she was staying here. Alone.

Sadness felt like it was swallowing her whole, but she forced a smile and kissed him, a quick brush of her lips after such wild madness. “If you can. I know it might not be possible, Russell. I understand.”

Something passed over his face—disappointment, maybe? She wasn’t certain, but it was gone before she could say anything.

“Come on. I have my bag in the truck. We can shower, then I have to go.”

Yeah, they could have sex again, but he was still going.

Trouble was, she suddenly didn’t want to have sex. She wanted him to curl her up, hold her tight and not let her go. She wanted him to stay. To choose her over whatever waited for him with his SEAL buddy.

If only. She knew that wasn’t possible. He was a SEAL and—even though he was retired—she would never come before his unit.

Her dad had put her first because her dad had loved her. And, somehow, that thought only made Russell leaving her alone all that much harder.

Chapter Sixteen

Russell was in deep. Too deep? Maybe. Concentrating on cleaning his gun, he tried to focus on it rather than the woman driving him nuts. No such luck. Memories of Susan were killing him. Doubts and fears he’d never known before were ripping him apart.

She’d not asked him to stay. Not even once. She’d let him take her like some wild beast, but she’d not asked him to stay. Not that he could have. But she hadn’t known that, right?

And when he’d offered to call, how fucked up was he to be stung that she hadn’t seemed to see how much of a sacrifice that was? She’d not even seemed to believe him, or, worse, care.

Was he reading her all wrong? Was she in this for the sex? For a fling, but nothing more?

“Ace, get your head in the fucking game,” Mac snapped.

Russell wanted to snarl right back. Three weeks, he’d been here. They’d got one mission completed, or at least begun. They’d sprung Mac’s man, but they were nowhere near getting the original mission under wraps.

Like he cared. He wanted to call Susan so badly, he was aching. More than call her, he wanted to be back with her, and not here, away from her and filled with so much worry he didn’t know what to do with it. He’d wanted to tell her he was in love with her and that, once he got back, he wouldn’t be leaving her ever again, but he’d fucked that up.

Talk about a coward. He’d let her out of his arms and swallowed back the words. Let her tell him she wasn’t staying at the ranch, and pretty much let her set him aside.

He was a coward. She hadn’t set him aside. She hadn’t wanted to go to the ranch, but it didn’t mean she didn’t want him. It simply meant she was one stubborn woman, and didn’t like him ordering her about.

“Ace? Man, we need you here, with us.”

Russell shot a look over at Mac that would peel paint. Mac didn’t even blink. Big, as tall as Russell and broader, Mac could knock the shit out of a lineman on the Dallas Cowboys starting line-up. Roughly dressed in BDUs and, for some reason, a black T-shirt with a Corona logo and a few holes in the front of it, Mac looked like some beachcomber. Dark blond hair lightened by the days at the beach was tangled all over his head. He was tanned from the sun, too, and this time he was also sporting an evil-looking sleeve tattoo from his wrist to his shoulder that Russell hadn’t seen before. Mac didn’t take his stare as anything more than Russell’s normal, ‘pissed off at being here and wasting time’ expression. That pissed Russell off even more, but what could he do?

“Tell me what you want, then, dickhead, and I’ll do it. Sitting here, soaking up rays, is
not
what I came down for.”

Mac had the good sense to keep his mouth shut until Russell got his temper under control. The man was a friend—a good friend—but this shit was killing Russell. They’d been on a team together, bled together, they’d even been held in an enemy camp together, but this was Russell’s life, his
future
Mac was fucking with. Susan was it, not this pain-in-the-ass mission stalling out and leaving them hanging. Russell needed action; wanted it badly enough to go blow a few heads off to get the ball rolling.

Brown eyes met his before Mac ran a hand through his tangled hair. Maybe that was where Russell picked up that trait, because he did that when he was frustrated with Susan. Not that Mac had any reason to be frustrated with him. So what if he was cranked and ready? That was what he was here for.

“Look, you’re here to help us, not start a fucking war. We need you—where is the Ace I knew? Has this woman gotten to you this bad? She’s a fuck, nothing more. Go fuck some other woman and get some tension out, then—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence because, suddenly, he was on the ground, Russell’s face in his with Russell’s arm shoved against his throat.

“Don’t ever talk that way about her again. Got it? Do you got it? I’ll rip your throat out.”

Pumped on adrenaline, Russell could barely let go when Mac tried to nod. The man was as tall as him, well over six feet, and outweighed him by twenty or more pounds, but Russell was one pent-up, angry man.

Mac blinked and shook his head when Russell let up some pressure on his throat, but Russell kept his knee rammed against the other man’s chest.

 “Just remember it, Wolf, because I will not say it again. Next time you’re going down.”

“Fuck, Ace, I
am
down, you fuckin’ asshole. Now get the hell off me.”

“Shit, man, what’d we miss?” Tazz called behind them.

Sighing, Russell got up off Mac and shot Tazz a glare. The younger man winked and picked Russell’s chair up from where he’d overbalanced it in his hurry to get to Mac. Sitting, Tazz slouched down, folded his arms over his chest and crossed his legs.

Mac got to his feet, no doubt exaggerating how he was rubbing his neck and shoulder, but Russell ignored him.

“Not much. Ace is tense.” Mac shot Russell a frown and got his own chair, sitting with a low curse.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Tazz’s Texan drawl was going to get him sucker-punched, since killing a team member was frowned upon. The dark-haired Texan had a smart mouth and had no problem running it.

Robert McNeil, named Tazz because he’d once been Tasered and had beaten the shit out of the dude who’d thought the stunt was funny, was not a man to take lightly. Not with his skills with his fists or his knives. Tazz could gut a man before the guy even knew his life had just ended. Lean, only a couple of inches shorter than Russell, Tazz looked handsome to the point of being a liability at times, because the women always remembered him. He was well worth the bullshit, though, because he was the best fighter Russell had ever seen. And not just the best fighter. Tazz never gave up. No one on his team would ever leave a man behind, but Tazz would never leave a mission or a
lead
behind. He was like a hound on a scent. Tenacious didn’t even come close to describing him if he wanted to know something. The irritatingly stubborn bastard was nosey, too.