by Pam Godwin
Her hands flew to the granite globes of his ass as she relaxed her tongue and breathed with his thrusts.
He gripped the headboard, bracing the cant of his body, while his other hand fisted in her hair. He held her head immobile, fucking her face with the frenzy of a mindless animal.
But he wasn’t mindless, his gaze too alert and watchful. He never looked away, penetrating her with his eyes as deeply as the plunge of his cock.
It was that constant, worshiping eye contact that turned her on more than anything else. She savored the salty taste of him, the feel of his balls grinding against her chin, the way his body moved in a sensual dance. But God almighty, she loved the way he watched her.
He was language without words. The devotion-forming capacity of nature. The spirit of adventure and love. A humanist at war with monsters. And a carnal beast in the throes of pleasure.
His breathing deepened, and his honed physique flexed and dampened beneath her hands. She indulged herself, tracing all his grooves and indentations while sucking and licking the furor of his hardness in her mouth.
He gritted his teeth, his masculine features straining as he battled against completion.
“Fuck.” He pulled out and squeezed the base of his erection as if trying to ward off a demanding release. “Your mouth feels too good, baby. I almost came. Not going to last a minute once I’m in your hot pussy.”
“Good thing you have supernatural stamina. I’m expecting a long night with you.”
“How about a long life with me?”
“That, too.”
“Stay there.” He shifted down her body, curling his warm, hard muscles around her uninjured side. Lifting her good leg, he hooked it over his hip while keeping her wounded thigh flat on the bed. “Don’t move or fight against me. I don’t want that leg straining.”
They’d both been tested by the doctor. They were clean, and she was on birth control.
“No condom.” She quivered at the feel of him sliding along her drenched slit from behind.
“My first time bareback.” He leaned over her face, mouth open and panting against her lips as his cock teased the pulsing ring of her opening. “I’m so in love with you.”
“Same.” She gripped his nape and pulled him down for a kiss. “Please, Luke. Fuck me.”
He pushed in his tongue. Then he pushed in his cock, sinking both with a shuddering, body-trembling groan.
With her lying on her back, he hiked up her good leg, holding it against him while guiding the movement and angle of her lower half as he plowed into her from behind.
The position allowed her injured leg to rest on the bed and away from the piston of his hips. It also gave him access to her mouth and a view of her jiggling tits, of which he took full advantage. He kissed her. Stared at her body. Kissed her again. Bit her nipples. He was everywhere, over, under, and inside her at once.
Lying on his side while holding her leg in an arm lock didn’t affect the rhythm or force of his thrusts. Nor did it stop him from reaching a hand to where they were joined to add another layer of stimulation.
He played with her clit and stroked the flesh that squeezed around him. Then he pushed two fingers inside, entering her alongside his cock. Triple-penetration. She nearly came undone.
“The silk inside you feels unreal.” He licked at her mouth, trying and failing to keep their lips sealed. “The sensation is so much hotter, softer, fucking wetter without a barrier. Christ, I’ll never go back to condoms.” He held her gaze and slammed into her with cock and fingers. “I want to put a baby in you.”
She laughed blissfully around his hungry tongue. “Let’s practice for a while. Lots and lots of practice.”
He moved his hand to her breast and got to work, fucking her with shocking endurance. His deep, frenzied strokes delivered a religious experience, the heat of his kisses an empowered sense of rapture. He injected wonder into reality and transformed the world into electric hues of elation.
Making love to him was a cosmic explosion of body and mind. A splitting of atoms. Nuclear fission.
Energy released around her, sparking a chain reaction, rapidly multiplying the sensations plummeting through her, and sending her over the edge.
She came so violently she screamed, gasping for air and choking out his name. Pleasure burst in a starscape of light, crashing through her nerve endings and sucking all her strength.
Complete and total surrender.
“Vera.” He saw it, felt it, and went rigid, groaning and jerking and succumbing to his own breathless release.
A warm rush flooded into her as an expression of gobsmacked adoration overtook his face.
“What are you thinking?” She cupped his hard jaw, laughing and wheezing.
“No words.” He tried to catch his breath and lowered her leg. But he didn’t pull out. “It’s indescribable.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re not finished.” He thrust lazily inside her, testing the rigidness of his cock.
“I hoped you’d say that.”
“You’re not getting rid of me.”
“Not even when we fight. And we will. I’m going to challenge everything you say and do. Can you deal with that?”
“I fucking look forward to it.”
His mouth covered her lips. His hips rocked against her, and their bodies came together, unshackled in love and united in war.
Luke circled the Koenigsegg Agera, admiring its low profile, aerodynamic lines, and metallic silver paint. It used to be the sexiest goddamn thing he’d ever seen.
That was before he rested his eyes on Vera Gomez, who was currently naked and bent over the hood.
“Luke.” She rubbed her pussy against the front wheel well, no doubt leaving streaks of moisture on the paint. “If you don’t finish this soon, I’m going to take care of myself.”
“Be quiet.” Fucking hell, he was hard. Painfully, miserably rock-hard. “I paid a lot of money for this view.”
All of Marco’s hypercars had been sold, but this one. Luke had personally funded the shipping expenses to transport it from California to Bogota, Columbia.
For one reason only.
He wanted to fuck the world’s sexiest woman on top of the world’s sexiest car.
Never in his wildest fantasies did he think he would be standing here, in the middle of a forest outside of Bogota, taking in this view.
Her heart-shaped, upturned ass bore the welted marks of his spankings. Her skin slicked with sweat. Arousal soaked her thighs. He’d been playing with her in this position for over an hour.
“This is the pinnacle of my life.” He grinned at her backside. “Nothing will ever top this.”
“Don’t say that, you fucking asshat. What about marriage? Kids? Grand—”
“Nope. This is my fantasy. One I’ve dreamed about for as long as I can remember.”
“You fantasized about beating a woman’s ass when you were a kid?”
“Beating the sexiest woman’s ass on top of the sexiest car.” He unzipped his jeans and freed his cock. “I can’t even tell you how many times I shot my load with this image in my head.”
“How’s the reality holding up?” She wriggled her hips.
“Fuck.” He gripped his cock, trying not to come. “It’s better. The reality is so unbelievably sinful. Wish you could see it.”
She moaned, stretching her arms out over the hood and rocking her hips. “Come on, Luke. I ache.”
He stood still, committing every glorious detail to memory. Then he prowled toward her, kicked her feet apart, and sank himself into her throbbing wet heat.
His hands traveled over her delicious curves. His heart raced with the unfettered force of his thrusts, and she gripped him, clenching, with a tight, greedy cunt.
He wanted it to last forever, but she was already there. His body, completely attuned to hers, followed the sounds of her blissful cries, climbing with her, fusing, crashing…
Impact.
He drove savagely int
o her, spilling his seed as she found her own release. His head fell forward, his mouth sucking and biting her shoulders, his senses exploding in ecstasy.
As they settled down, he tucked himself away and pulled her limp body into his arms.
She stared up at him, and he kissed her dazed smile, lips gliding, and hearts pounding a single tattoo.
“I have a surprise for you.” He brushed her hair from her face. “Get dressed.”
He stepped back, admiring the view of her tight, sexy body as she dragged on jeans and a t-shirt. “What’s the surprise? Go ahead and tell me.”
“Vera.” He clicked his tongue. “Don’t start.”
“I just want to know.”
“You want to argue.”
“No. I just don’t like surprises.”
“Too bad.”
She growled under her breath. “You’re so annoying.”
“You’re so beautiful.”
Her dark eyes softened. Her lips turned up, and he considered riling her up again, just so he could savor all her expressions.
An engine sounded in the distance, and a moment later, a motorcycle emerged on the winding road through the trees.
“Expecting someone?” She joined his side.
“Yep.” He removed the Koenigsegg key from his pocket.
The motorcyclist pulled to a stop in the clearing and turned off the engine. The man had been thoroughly vetted, the deal already negotiated. Luke expected no trouble.
“Mr. Smith?” The man removed his helmet, revealing a bald head and a silver beard.
“Yep.” Luke held out the car key.
“She’s a beauty.” Eyes on the hypercar, the man shrugged out of his backpack and handed it over. “It’s all there. In small bills, just like you asked.”
The heavy weight of the bag promised a clean transaction. While the man checked out the Koenigsegg, Luke opened the backpack and counted the money.
“What are you doing?” Vera stood over him, her fists anchored on her hips. “You’re selling that car? Why? It’s your dream car!”
“Shh.” He continued counting.
She fell quiet, waiting for him to finish.
“It’s all here,” he said to the man. “We good?”
Better be. He was selling that car for a fraction of what it was worth.
“All good.” The man grinned. “The second helmet is on the bike.”
Luke strapped the backpack onto Vera’s shoulders and kissed her stiff lips. “Let’s have some fun.”
“I can’t believe you sold that car.”
“I have everything I want right here.” He kissed her again. “Come on.”
Then he put her on the motorcycle, tucked her close behind him, and hit the road.
As much as he enjoyed the hypercar, it didn’t compare to the feeling of an engine between his legs and Vera’s warm body wrapped around his back.
He opened the throttle, startling a yelp from his girl. Then she laughed, clutching his waist and squeezing her thighs around him.
This is heaven.
He took her to a small town on the southern outskirts of Bogota. Not the safest area, but they wouldn’t stay long.
Zipping along the crumbling streets, he veered toward his destination. When he arrived at the old hospital, he turned off the engine and lifted Vera from the seat.
“What are we doing here?” She scanned the dilapidated building, the broken wrought iron on the windows, and the overall gloom shrouding the place.
“We’re spending the money.” He grabbed the backpack and hooked it over his shoulder. Then he grabbed her hand, pulling her along. “Twenty minutes. In and out.”
“Okay, but isn’t this a hospital? What are we buying?”
“Smiles.”
He couldn’t stifle his own as he led her through the front entrance and down a dank, unkempt corridor. There was no security here. No visitor protocols. Nothing to stop them from entering the first room.
An elderly woman lay in the hospital bed, her arms and chest hooked up to a chirping, outdated machine. There were others in the room, presumably her family, sitting on the floor and standing along the wall.
“Luke?” Vera squeezed his hand. “Do you know these people?”
“Nope. Reach into the backpack and give them a gift.”
Her forehead knitted. She glanced around the room at all the silent, staring faces. He watched the realization widen her eyes and swell in her chest.
She pressed a fist to her mouth, nodding as tears welled along her lashes. Then she reached into the backpack.
And so it went.
He followed her from room to room as she passed out money, speaking rapidly in Spanish, trying to convince each patient that she expected nothing in return.
When she lingered too long at a bedside, he quickly dragged her to the next one, keeping her moving.
They were in a dangerous neighborhood, riddled with poverty and crime. He wanted all the money gone before they drew too much attention.
By the time they reached the last room, her smile was blinding, contagious, and worth all the hypercars in the world.
She was happy making people happy, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would thrive as a Freedom Fighter.
He couldn’t stop staring at her, at the majestic glow that shone in her eyes, her tears, her constant smile.
“What?” She walked beside him through the parking lot, watching him watch her.
“You know the fantasy I had with you and the hypercar…”
“And my glowing red ass?”
“Yeah.” He stopped at the motorcycle and hauled her against his chest, smiling against her lips. “You just topped it.”
“We topped it. Thank you for that, for what you did in there.” She raked her hands through his hair and kissed his mouth. “I love you.”
Impact. Direct shot to the chest.
“I felt that.” He rested his brow against hers.
“I’ll say it again if you stop for ice cream on the way home.”
“Klondike bar?”
“Three boxes.” She wedged on the helmet and flipped up the visor. “Variety packs. All the flavors.”
“One box.” He straddled the bike and pulled on his own helmet. “Six orgasms.”
She started to argue until she registered the last part. Then she grinned, slapped down the visor, and climbed on behind him.
“No stops.” She rested her chin on his shoulder and hugged his back. “Let’s go home.”
———————————————————
The DELIVER series continues with Tomas’ story:
Dominate (#8)
Pecos River Bridge
Langtry, Texas
Ten years ago
There were many reasons to jump, but Rylee Sutton only needed one to step off the ledge.
He was her one.
Her only.
Her first love, her best friend, her husband.
He had been her ever after.
Now there was no future. No do-overs. Nothing left but inconsolable pain.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see through the searing blur of tears that poured from the damage inside her.
Goddammit, she was a mess. How had she ended up here?
Perched on the bridge high above the Pecos River gorge, she dangled her feet over the yawning black abyss, her flip-flops clinging precariously to her toes. Another sob shuddered up, and she angrily kicked off the sandals, sending them tumbling into the dark.
Plunging.
A silent, insignificant drop.
She would be next.
After a four-second fall at seventy-five miles per hour, she would crash into the Pecos River with the force of a speeding truck colliding with a concrete building.
She’d thought about this a lot, had done the research, and knew this was the one thing she would not fail.
She was done. Done failing at life. Done failing her husband.
If she on
ly knew where she’d gone so terribly wrong.
She’d supported Mason through thirteen years of medical school and residency, worked multiple jobs to pay off his student loans, and delayed her own career pursuits to assist the startup of his private practice.
Together, they’d been an unstoppable team. The power couple that all others envied. She’d helped him become an orthopedic surgeon, and now, he was supposed to be at her side while she studied criminal justice.
Only he wasn’t with her.
He was with someone else.
Anguish surged faster, harder, wracking her body in vicious waves. She clapped a hand over her mouth and sobbed against her fingers.
She loved him so much it hurt. She hurt so badly she couldn’t see past it. Couldn’t see anything but the images of him with another woman.
“I knew, Mason,” she cried, yelling at the moonless, unfeeling sky. “I’ve known for months and refused to believe it.”
She was an idiot.
His late nights at work, shady excuses, casual flirting with other women, disinterest in sex with her—all the signs had been there, glaring at her. So two nights ago, she followed him. Watched him enter an unfamiliar house without knocking. Waited for him to come back out.
When he didn’t, she stormed right up to the front door and opened it.
No amount of suspicion could’ve prepared her for the sight of her husband banging a woman against the wall. He hadn’t even made it past the front room before shoving his dick inside her.
Rylee had lost her shit. Utterly. Maniacally. She’d screamed. He’d begged for forgiveness. She’d left in her car, and he’d chased on foot.
The devastation was so complete she couldn’t remember the last two days. She hadn’t gone home. Instead, she’d driven five hours through the desert, stayed in a motel, and found herself in Nowhere, Texas, staring over the side of a bridge.
She couldn’t pull herself away from the ledge. Revenge was gnawing. Consuming. Demanding that she hurt him as deeply as he’d hurt her.
Her death would destroy him.
Lifting her phone, she glanced at the twenty new texts and missed calls. He’d left hundreds of messages over the past two days, ranging the spectrum from denial and anger to guilt and fear. He was sorry. He wanted her back. He would do anything for her. Blah, blah, blah.