Hot Ride

by Kelly Jamieson

  She closed her eyes. His mother had just died, for heaven’s sake, and here she was attacking him.

  “Sera,” he said again. She opened her eyes. “I know we shouldn’t be doing this, but I want you so bad. I…need you.” The aching need in his eyes reached deep inside her and squeezed.

  She nodded, his hands following the movement of her head, and she slid her own hands to his face, cupped his cheeks, brushed his mouth with her thumb. “I know. I want you too.”

  Her eyes drifted shut and their mouths joined again, slowly, warmly, and she wasn’t sure if she’d pulled him closer or he had moved her face. Her mouth opened wide for him and she tasted the faint mint of the antacids he’d chewed after supper, loving the taste of him, the sweep of his tongue, the feel of his body against her. It was like a drug. Intoxicating. Addicting.

  Together they moved from the kitchen to her bedroom, where they undressed while watching each other in the shadowed room. Sera slipped out of the knee-length shorts and sleeveless shirt she wore, down to her panties and bra, and watched dry-mouthed as Ryan shrugged out of his shirt. When his fingers went to his fly, she tracked his movements with her eyes, anticipation buzzing inside her as his body was revealed to her. She tipped her head to one side to watch him step out of his jeans, admiring the muscles flexing in his legs, his lean hips, the eye-catching bulge in his boxer briefs. Her fingers longed to touch, to feel the weight of him, the softness and the hardness of him, and she stepped toward him.

  She rubbed her hands over his chest, across flat nipples that hardened at her touch, rough hair between them, over smooth skin and hard bone of his shoulders.

  His eyes smoldered at her touch, his hands clasping her hips. Heat surrounded them. She longed to make things better in his world, knew she couldn’t make the pain of losing his mom go away. But she could ease it. She could make him feel alive. She kissed his chest, inhaled the warmth of him, the fresh masculine scent that she now knew as his alone. She kissed her way across his flat muscles, licked over the nub of one nipple and felt him quiver. Inspired, she kissed lower, bending her knees, skimming her lips over his abs, loving how they tightened beneath her caress. Then she lowered herself to her knees, the carpet soft beneath her, and kissed him just above the elastic of his briefs, where a thin line of hair dipped lower.

  His hands went to her hair and fisted there, the tug sending pleasure streaking through her. She pressed her cheek against the bulge of his cock beneath soft cotton, closed her eyes and again inhaled, his scent there distinctly musky-male. Arousal crashed through her, made her ache down low. With a murmur of pleasure she rubbed her cheek against him, then kissed him through the cotton. Her mouth watered and the need to taste him had her slowly drawing his underwear down, over thick, hair-roughened thighs, to drop to the floor. With small movements, he kicked them off his feet, and his fingers tightened more in her hair.

  Burning hot, silky flesh tempted her and she forced herself to take her time, to slow down enough to admire the shape and size of him, to test the weight of his balls in her hand. She loved how tight and firm they were, loved the shape of the head of his penis, the thickness of it. She stroked a finger along prominent veins, then dragged fingers through the thick thatch of dark curls at the root.

  “Christ, Sera.” She slanted a glance upward, saw his darkened cheekbones and firm mouth. His head tipped back, and eyes closed, he almost looked in pain. Yet his hands held her head there. She licked her lips first then leaned in to taste him, a swipe of the tongue over the head wringing a gasp from him. She swirled her tongue over and around, wanting to get him wet, then licked up and down the shaft.

  She felt his reaction in the hardness of his hands, the tremor in his legs, the way his cock jerked and swelled at her touch, and it thrilled her to do that to him. Her mouth ached for him, and she opened wide and drew him in, tongue sliding wetly, cheeks hollowing as she sucked him.

  “Fuck!” The pull on her hair sent sharp sensations skittering over her, and she moaned, her mouth full of him. The smarting shimmered through her, intensifying the pleasure she took at having him in her mouth. She loved it.

  He didn’t stop, tugged harder, and she went mindless and hot. She took him deep, as deep as she could, sucked him, licked him, devoured him. He moved his hips, held her head, fucked her mouth with muffled groans and whispered praise. “So good…Sera, your mouth is so hot…love that.”

  She caressed his testicles, drawn up tight, and when his body tensed and his hands tugged hard on her hair to pull her head away from him, hot pinpoints of sensation zigzagged from her scalp to her pussy, and with a muffled protest she kept her mouth around him, held the base of his cock with one hand, pumping, cupped his balls with the other until he exploded in her mouth, hot spurts of sharp taste, and she held him there, lips stretched, sucking and swallowing.

  “Ah, Christ, Sera, Christ.” His fingers released her hair and held her skull, his hips pulsing toward her. Then she slowly slid her mouth off him, with one last swirl of her tongue over the head of his cock. She looked up at him, and their eyes met. The rapture in his eyes and the softness of his mouth sent tender feelings drizzling through her, like sweet, warm syrup. She wiped her mouth and rose to her feet, sliding herself against him as she stood, his hands on her arms helping her.

  “Jesus,” he gasped, and she kissed his mouth. “That was unbelievable.”

  She brushed her smiling mouth across his again. “Yes, it was. Mmm, you taste good, Ryan.”

  He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, squeezed her tight. “I’m gonna need a few minutes, dammit.” He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

  “That’s okay.” They settled under the poufy duvet, bodies pressed together, and they kissed again, long, lush kisses. Ryan’s kisses wandered from her mouth to her jaw, nipped at her neck, sipped at the pulse at her throat. She tipped her head back, gave herself up to the floating, the heat seeping through her. His tongue tasted her, his mouth stroked her, sensation building and whipping over her body. Her breasts swelled as his beard-roughened chin rasped over her sternum, aching for his touch, and when he pressed a kiss between her breasts, she arched against him.

  He slid his hands beneath her to unfasten her bra then tugged it off and dropped it over the side of the bed. He kissed the inside curve of a breast, the under curve, and her nipples tingled in anticipation. She moaned, wanting to encourage him, but unable to formulate words. She pushed her fingers into his hair, remarkably still tied back, and she clawed at the elastic to free the silky strands. They spilled around his face, tickled her chest, and she grabbed his head and pulled her mouth to his nipple. With a muffled chuckle, he kissed the tip of her breast, a closed-mouth kiss, and she groaned again.

  This was so crazy, so unbelievably hot, this man in her bed with her. She wanted to do everything for him, everything he needed and wanted. The thought caused a flicker of worry inside her. She’d never felt like that before, about anyone.

  But he was hurting and although she was tough, she wasn’t unfeeling. And now, she needed him too.

  Then his tongue slid over her nipple in a heated, satiny lick. It still wasn’t enough. Her whole body quivering, she pressed up, and when he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, sensation exploded in her, streaming through her veins in hot sparkles. He sucked hard on the tip, and she felt it between her legs. “Oh god!”

  He moved to the other breast, his hand covering the one he’d just sucked on, and his fingers played with her nipple, tugging and pinching. The exquisite sensations on both nipples shot a barrage of sparks through her body, coalescing in her pussy in a heated rush of arousal.

  She moaned, shifting her legs against smooth sheets, her hips lifting with need. Ryan placed a hand on her lower stomach and held her there as he continued to suckle at her breasts, lips tugging, tongue licking, teeth nipping in sharp little stings, until she felt both her nipples were glowing hot points of sensation.

  His hand slid lower, inside her panties, ov
er her curls. She parted her thighs to allow him there, moaned, turned her head on the pillow. His fingers curved over her pussy and at first his fingers just held her, and she pulsed against his hand while he continued to torment her aching, blazing nipples. Oh dear god in heaven, she was going up in flames, heat and need swelling in her womb, making her arch her pelvis into his touch. She needed more, sought relief, and finally his fingers moved, parting her folds and sliding into her wetness.

  She breathed out a long sigh, spread her legs farther, let him dip his fingers into her opening, slick her cream all over her pussy in slow, sizzling strokes, up, down, around. It was like that night in El Mirage when he’d stroked her to orgasm with a slow, sure touch. He circled her quivering and needy clit, around and around, down for more honey, back up and around.

  “Ryan!” she gasped. Her hips lifted almost off the mattress. He lifted his head from her breast and sent her a wicked smile.

  “What?”

  “I need…I…”

  “Mmm.” He turned his gaze to her nipples to survey what he’d done to them, gave each tight, burning tip a last lick, then kissed his way down over her tummy. Settling himself between her legs, he hooked his thumbs into her panties and drew them down over her legs, tossing them aside as he had her bra. Then he pushed her thighs farther apart and studied her. God, oh god. She bent her knees.

  She felt his breath feather over her pussy as he murmured her name. He parted her with his thumbs, leaned in and licked her. Hot flames sparkled inside her, built into a conflagration, rising up, and yet she needed more, she needed his tongue, his mouth right there…oh sweet Jesus yes, there. He kissed her clit, a firm kiss that made her jerk, and she pressed a hand over her mouth to hold in the noise that tore from her throat.

  He kissed her clit again, and wetness gushed between her legs. Then he kissed her folds, a kiss to one side, a kiss to the other, soft, sucking kisses, drawing swollen sensitive flesh into his mouth and releasing it with a brush of tongue. The sensuality of it, the gentle care of it, melted her inside and she dissolved into a puddle of helpless bliss.

  Sensation built to an unbearable peak and when finally he did the same to her clit—a kiss, a soft suckle, a brush of his tongue—she spasmed and burst, cried out, body tight and arched. He sucked on her clit with firm but gentle pulls and she felt as though her pleasure poured from her body into his mouth and he swallowed it, took it from her and gave it back.

  He slid up beside her, hand cupped over her pulsing pussy, then he swiped fingers deeply through her slick folds and lifted his hand to her mouth. “Taste yourself,” he murmured, watching her with hot eyes. “You taste so sweet, Sera, like honey and peaches.” She held his gaze, opened her mouth, and in the most erotic moment of her life, she licked her own essence from his fingers. She sucked on him then released him, and he moved over her. His cock had swollen and lengthened to stunning proportions again.

  “Need a condom,” he muttered. “Do you…?”

  “Yeah.” She rolled over and fumbled around in the drawer of the table beside the bed, then handed him the package. He held himself and rolled the condom onto his impressive erection, then his warmth enveloped her again as he moved over her and probed at her entrance. She bent her knees and lifted her legs to open for him, still soft and sensitive from the orgasm, and when he pushed into her she closed her eyes with delight, the pushing, stretching sensation of him inside her an exquisite pain.

  She clasped his back with her hands, her body tightening and trembling around him, tried to pull him in with every little inner muscle, and he sucked in a breath.

  “Tight,” he whispered. “Hot. Wet. Sera.”

  “Yes.”

  “I love how you feel around me.”

  “I love it too.” She wondered at the wisdom of using words like that to describe what they were doing. Love was an important word. A special word. A frightening word. And yet…the right word.

  She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he rocked against her, hot muscles, damp flesh and impaling cock. He drove deep, hitting her cervix, her body hypersensitive, and when he slid his hand between them to stroke over her clit, she came again in long, rolling waves of rapture.

  “Ah, Sera.” His long groan came from deep inside him as he thrust harder, faster, prolonging the ecstasy of her orgasm as he strove for his, and then he too tightened, spasmed, eyes closed, jaw tight as he poured himself into her in long, hard pulses.

  They lay together, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other, spent and drowsy. Ryan stroked a lazy hand over Sera’s silky hair, her face pressed to his chest.

  “I didn’t tell you the whole story about my near-death experience.”

  Ryan’s hand stilled. Now what? “Go on,” he murmured. He was almost comatose with sexual satisfaction but she wanted to talk.

  She kept her face averted, stroked her fingers through his chest hair. For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to say any more. Then, “There was someone else there with me in the corridor—I couldn’t see what he looked like because the light was so brilliant, but I felt so peaceful and accepted. He asked me to think about what I’d done in my life and I started to see my life in scenes like a movie. He told me I had more to do.”

  Jesus Christ. Those must have been some good drugs she’d taken. “Sera. I think that was likely some kind of hallucination from the drugs you took.”

  “I should have known you would think I’m nuts,” she mumbled against his chest. “Anyone else I’ve ever told has.”

  A wash of shame heated him. She was serious. This was serious.

  She lifted her head and met his eyes. “I wasn’t afraid. Because I was dead, nothing else could hurt me, I guess. I was just…interested. I felt very relaxed, detached, almost. Then he said, ‘You know you have to go back. Because of your mom.’ And I did know. I knew he was right and that I had to go back for something. I didn’t know exactly what it was.” Her eyes implored him for understanding. Belief. Faith. “I didn’t want to go back. My life was crap and I was scared and it felt so lovely there. But then I realized because of my mom that I was supposed to help other girls who get hooked into drugs. That’s why I came back.”

  She paused for another breath. “My friends thought I was crazy. They all dumped me. Told everyone I was crazy. My family…well, I didn’t have much family. I never told any of my foster parents. I learned to keep this all to myself. There’s never been anyone in my life who understands it.” He held her gaze, her face pale and tight. “And I don’t expect there ever will. I don’t know why I told you this.”

  He didn’t know what to say. His chest ached, ached for what she’d gone through as a kid, whether it was some kind of psychotropic dream, or a vivid imagination, or…he couldn’t come up with much else. Kids could be cruel, and when she said there’d never been anyone in her life who understood and she didn’t expect there ever would be, he hurt for her. He could only imagine the loneliness that came from feeling so different and not having anyone who loved you anyway.

  He slid his hand into her hair and brought her head down against him again, holding her.

  He thought of his mother, how he’d been such a burden to her through his wild teenage years, constantly in trouble, unable to control his temper, fighting with her to the point of making her cry time and time again. And yet…she still loved him. To her dying day, she’d loved him anyway. The thought that Sera’d never had that, and her belief that she never would, felt like a jagged blade twisting in his heart. Had she hoped for that from him? Was that why she’d told him?

  “I see women like Carly, and I just…I have to do this,” she added.

  He nodded slowly.

  “Just promise me you won’t tell anyone else. If they think I’m working on this case because of some psycho, near-death experience…well, I don’t want to get fired.”

  He’d heard some whacked stories, some truly horrible experiences that had motivated his fellow agents to do the kind of work they did, but this
definitely took the prize. And yet, he understood that feeling—that need to fight for something.

  She lifted her head to look at him again. “I truly believe that, Ryan, and I’m doing some good here. I’m getting so close… I know Dominick Casas is linked to it, and if we can get to them and save even one life, it’s worth it. I just…want you to know why this is so important to me.”

  She pleaded with her eyes for understanding from him. He stared back at her. Hey, there were a lot of people who claimed to have had a near-death experience. It didn’t make them crazy. Right? “I won’t tell anyone else.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  A buzzer woke Ryan and he struggled to figure out where the hell he was, why he felt so goddamn good even though he thought he should be feeling bad—and memories of the day before flooded back, his mother dying, and Sera being there.

  Sera.

  They lay in her bed, their legs tangled together, body pressed to naked body, her soft breast against his chest, her cheek on his shoulder, her long, silky hair draped across both of them.

  The buzzer sounded again.

  “Your door.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Sera.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Someone’s at your door.”

  “Huh?” Her eyes flickered open and the buzzer sounded again. She frowned. “Who the hell could that be? What time is it?”

  Ryan was shocked to see they’d slept until almost ten o’clock. After several rounds of healing, restorative, life-affirming sex, they’d finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning.

  “Want me to see who it is?”

  She sighed and rolled away from him, and without waiting for her answer, he climbed out of her delicious bed and grabbed his jeans. He didn’t bother with underwear or a shirt, didn’t even bother doing up the top button, and strode to Sera’s door. He flung the door wide, unconcerned about safety or security, to find an older man standing there.

  They both stared at each other with matching consternation.