Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (22 page)

"Hot, wet—" He wrapped an arm about her neck and dragged her closer, his kiss cutting off the inciting words.

As his tongue thrust deep into her mouth, she felt his fingers duplicate the motion deep inside her. She shifted restlessly as internal muscles tightened in exquisite anticipation. Beneath her outstretched hand, she felt his arousal, hard and insistent behind the prison of his zipper. She was powerless to do anything about it.

Shifting her hips, a movement hampered by her jeans and the bucket seats, she heard her own frustrated whimper followed by a rough chuckle from Kyle.

"No," she cried as he withdrew his fingers. She stiffened in shock, in protest, her own hand clutching at his blatant erection. "Damn you—"

"Get in back." He kept his eyes on her face as he stripped off his shirt, kicked off his shoes. "Now." He lifted his hips to strip off pants, briefs, socks.

He was naked, savage, the long dark rope of his braid snaking down across his chest to pool at his groin. Her eyes rose to meet his. She didn't trust herself to speak. God, he was the most magnificent male she'd ever seen.

"Now, damn it!"

Clumsy, impatient, and suddenly shy, she slipped between the front seats to the open area in back.

Don't do this
, her mind shouted one last caution. She ignored the warning, fumbling with her clothes, not knowing which she wanted off first. She tore at her bra, fingers too impatient for the small hook-and-eye in back.

Firmly he pushed her hands aside, his eyes like living green flame caressing her skin as his hand reached behind her. The loosened bra brushed against her skin, making her shiver.

They knelt, facing each other, mere inches apart. She could smell his skin, feel his heat. He looked as fierce as a pagan warrior. She put her hand on his chest, and his muscles jumped beneath her fingers.

"You feel so good," she said so softly she could barely hear herself.

He removed her bra, dropping it on the floor behind him. "Where?" he asked, sliding her jeans and bikini panties off. "Show me."

Using both hands she slid them slowly down the hard contour of his broad chest, until his flat, brown nipples peaked. "Here—" she leaned forward. "Like this—" Her tongue stroked him and his body tensed. His fingers gripped her hair. "And like this—" Her hands skimmed further down, along his ribs, to the shadowy indentation of his navel.

"I like to taste you," she said, in a voice barely audible, "here—" at the indentation of his narrow waist.

"Here—" at the jutting bone of his hip. "Here. God, I love this spot." The silky smooth, vulnerable skin between hipbone and groin. "I think this is my favorite…"

"You're killing me, jungle girl." He tipped her over on top of him, bracing her descent with his arms. She nuzzled her face against his musky roughness, feeling his fingers plunging into her hair, stinging her scalp
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as her breath whispered across his chest. She licked a path toward his navel. He tasted exciting, dark, delicious. She raked her teeth from smooth, taut skin to the crisp hair at his groin.

"But this—" Her fingers curled around the pulsing hardness of satin flesh. She touched her tongue to the damp tip of his penis. "
This
is the best—"

"Jesus." He bucked as her mouth closed around him. She experimented, sliding her tongue along the length of him. Savoring the musky taste of him as she took him deep into the heat of her mouth, sucking gently, licking, lapping, nuzzling until he cried out, dragging her up his body practically by her hair.

"Do you want me to come without you?" he demanded hoarsely, kissing her eyelids, then her mouth, as she sprawled on top of him, every nerve ending in her body snapping and pulsing.

She spread her knees around his hips, centering herself, so hot she was ready to explode.

Kyle gave a jagged laugh. "God, you still want to be boss, don't you?" He watched her with heavily hooded eyes, his hard mouth curved in a small smile as he settled his hands on her hips. "You want control, sweetheart? You're in the right position."

She thought he was going to plunge into her, braced herself, anticipated the hard thrust, but instead he brought both hands gliding up her back, then around to cup her face.

"Have at it, sweetheart."

The rigid, throbbing length of him pressed against the wet heat of her. She wanted him
inside
. She wanted to tell him what she felt when he touched her so tenderly. But she didn't have the words.

She wanted him to know that being in control wasn't all it was cracked up to be. But she didn't have the courage.

Her heart filled with feelings she couldn't verbalize and a kindling, pulsing need. Reaching between them she took the rigid length of him in her hand.

Her fingers, cool and insistent, guided him home.

God. The sensation of hot, wet woman made him leap and pulse inside her. His eyes squeezed shut in pure ecstasy. It took every bit of discipline for him to allow her to slide, centimeter by centimeter, all the way down at her own speed.

She murmured low in her throat, head thrown back, eyes closed. He curled his hands more firmly around her hips. Holding her, savoring the texture of her silky skin. He slid his thumbs neatly into the creases between body and thigh, waiting for her to move.
Delirious
with the need.

Bringing his thumbs in, he touched her portal. She shivered.

And started to move. Unknowingly assisted by his large hands guiding her rhythm, she whimpered low in her throat as she rose and fell. He felt her small hands braced against his chest, her fingers digging in as her hips moved faster. Faster. Faster.

Slamming.

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Sliding.

Grinding.

Riding him with wild abandon, clawing his chest. He groaned, arched beneath her, the sensations shooting through him in shimmering, violent waves.

He was close. So goddamned close. He wanted her with him. Sliding one thumb to the joining of their bodies, he found the slick heart of her.

Touched.

Stroked.

Incited.

She came in a shuddering rush, helpless to move. Her back arched, head thrown back as her internal muscles milked him to the point of insanity. His hands shifted to her sweet ass, fingers curled to touch.

She spasmed against him, nails digging into his stomach as he made her move again.

Deliberately.

Slowly.

Exquisitely.

He felt the heat rising in her again. That quickly. God she was responsive. She tried to quicken the pace.

His hands on her ass checked her. She growled like an animal in heat, pressing down on him, her nails embedded in his flesh.

"No more," she begged weakly, her breathing harsh, her skin wet and slick against his. He'd never felt anything more sensuous in his life. "Mercy. White… f-flag. Uncle."

"Yeah?" he could barely speak himself. The discipline it took to hold back, to let Delanie have it all, was costing him. His heart threatened to explode in his chest.

"Hmmm." Her lashes, spiky wet, drifted to her flushed cheeks.

He clenched his teeth with the pleasure of prolonging it, tormenting himself as he dragged her from one plateau to the next. Until the oxygen was so thin they both gasped for breath.

The instant he felt her body gathering, he slowed. She turned dazed eyes to his face. He had her off balance now, her body slowly being fine-tuned to his; receptive, malleable, responsive to the tiniest touch. He led her into a slow dance. And where she'd begged for mercy before, now she pleaded for speed. For another release.

Before she could protest, he kissed the pulse in her temple, the peak of her brow, the tender skin behind her ear. He felt her internal muscles quiver around him, but refused to relent. His control of his own body was complete as he allowed her to simmer, her knees pressed insistently to his sides, her hands clutching his belly.

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Even when she bowed, he held still until the moment tamed. Delanie rested her breasts against his chest, her skin fevered.

"Don't rush it. We have time." He pressed a kiss to the pounding pulse in her throat. "Lots of time."

"You're torturing me," she groaned, sitting up again so she could press down, shifting restlessly, spiking his temperature.

He touched her breasts, stroking hot, silky skin. He examined her hard nipples with exquisite care for detail, bending her so he could suckle one sweet hard peak. She made a pleading little sound in the back of her throat. He sucked harder and she groaned.

He could feel the fiery heat of her around him, the hard heavy drum of her heart beating in rapid counterpoint to his own. And still he kept his hips steady. Until almost every vestige of her impending climax was gone.

Only then did he guide her hips into a plunge and thrust rhythm, again and again. Rebuilding speed until he imagined the chopper vibrated around them and he could feel her hands on his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Her nails became tiny darts of ecstatic sensation.

The sweet scent of her skin drove him mad. This was like so many of his dreams. "Are you real?" he asked, as her legs tightened exquisitely. The memory of her had kept him alive for so long, but nothing compared to this reality.

Her silky legs tightened as she threw her head back and her muscles gathered—"Damn you! Why do you keep stopping?" she cried in frustration. "It's like turning down the flame just as I start boiling."

"I don't want you boiling again. Yet." He smiled at the metaphor. "Just keep at this nice, steady simmer."

"You make me crazy. What do you call this darn technique of yours?"

"Torture. Torment. Teasing."

Delanie had been glaring down at him; now a slow grin appeared as she said impishly, "Technical difficulties?" She pressed her hips down and did a slow deliberate grind. Her smile widened at his instant response.

He laughed. God, what the hell was he going to do with this woman? "Technical difficulties? I'll give you technical difficulties."

Giving her no more time to think, he turned with her in his arms, brought her flat on her back against the carpet and plunged inside her to the hilt. She gave a gasp of surprise; her eyes flew to his face as he kept up a hard, steady rhythm, giving her no quarter.

Her body bowed beneath his, her eyes squeezed tight, her nails imbedded in his ass.

He showed her the power he'd been holding back.

She screamed as she came.

The rain had stopped, the sky now bright with the beginning of a spectacular rain forest sunset. Brilliant
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red, orange, magenta, and deep plum, the colors were almost garish in their intensity.

Kyle cradled her with a tender strength that magnified how different they were.
This is nice
, Delanie thought, drowsy, satiated, and strangely at peace,
lying here, safe in his arms
. Even her stomach felt happy. In a little while they would have to go back to San Cristobal, but for now—

"Rise and shine," Kyle said, his voice rumbling beneath her ear. She thought he was asleep, and his low baritone startled her. She sighed, shifting slightly. The humidity had climbed while she'd dozed causing their bodies to stick together.

"One more hour," she begged, wanting to postpone the inevitable a little while longer.

"Montero's waiting for his report," Kyle said, sounding as reluctant as she felt. "I'm late as it is. And we still have to get you back to town."

"Right." She sat up, dragging her crumpled red T off the back of the front seat and pulling it over her head. "What's the bet Palacios's men will be swarming the place, watching every airport for you?" She took a second to flip her hair out of the neckline, looking at Kyle as he stretched his long length on the floor, his arms behind his head. The sunset bathed his lean body, highlighting the hard planes and angles.

He looked sexy as hell. She concentrated on getting dressed.

The corner of Kyle's mobile mouth kicked up in a smile as he watched her squiggle into her underwear.

"What?"

He snagged her hand as she reached for her jeans, and yanked, effectively toppling her onto his chest.

He held her face between the splayed fingers of both hands, their gazes locked. It was as though he were trying to see inside her brain with X-ray eyes. Or worse, do a Spock mind-meld.

"What do you see?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light. He looked very intense, and her heart knocked against her rib cage.

"A woman who's devoted, loyal to a fault…"

"Great," she said lightly, "I sound like a faithful hound."

"An incredible lover." His eyes raked her features one by one before meeting her gaze again. "And a woman who doesn't trust easily."

No kidding
! "I trust you."

He kissed her. Slow and deep.

It felt like good-bye.

"Let's talk about what needs doing when the shit hits the fan."

"When?"

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"Trust me on this, jungle girl. There's no
if
about it. We need contingency plans," he said dryly. "Okay, here's what we have to do…"

He didn't like being cornered, didn't like being hemmed in with zero options. He was not a happy man.

Soon after liftoff, Delanie had taken a wide roll of electrical tape out of her bottomless purse and taped up the window beside her. Her head rested against the silver X, and she'd fallen asleep, having fought off exhaustion for hours. She rested in a sort of alert doze. A technique he'd often used when there was danger about. As a civilian Delanie shouldn't have acquired that knack. Nor should she ever have had the need for it.

He glanced over at her pale face in the gathering dusk and the muted lights of the instrument panel. Her eyelids were slightly swollen. It was as though she allowed herself only so much emotion before burying it.