Guts & Glory: Hunter (In the Shadows Security Book 3)

by Jeanne St. James

  “They just might. Depends who’s at the register. You might even get a discount.”

  “Or I could borrow your car, go back to the Bates Motel, change into clean clothes, grab a condom and hope one of the Bryson Bobbsey twins doesn’t pull me over when I speed back over here.”

  “You have condoms in your motel room?”

  “Of course.”

  “More than one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’re only bringing back one?”

  His face split into a smile. Then he hooked his leg around her hip and knocked her off balance, somehow rolling them—without crashing into the table—until he was on top. He planted his palms on the floor on either side of her head and dropped his face until they were almost nose to nose. “How many do you need?”

  Somehow, someway, the knot on his towel had given way and his erection was now settled at the crux of her thighs. This in no way helped her with thinking before she acted.

  “How many do you have?”

  “I haven’t checked lately.”

  “Good answer.”

  He closed the gap between them, giving her a quick kiss and then he was up and on his feet. Like magic.

  Or more like a routine from Magic Mike.

  But without the towel, this was so, so, sooooo much better than the movie.

  Holy shit.

  She licked her dry lips. “How fast can you get there and back?”

  “How fast can you shower, brush your teeth and do a little bushwhacking?”

  She grinned.

  He grinned.

  He grabbed the towel and was gone.

  Chapter Eight

  After locking the door, he hung her house and car keys on the hook by the front door and turned to stare up the narrow steps.

  He hated this house. He almost had a panic attack in her tiny bathroom earlier. The single bathroom in the house only had space for a sink, the toilet and a combo shower and tub. How she tended to her son in that bathroom, he had no fucking clue.

  They were about to have sex and, guaranteed, it would not be in that fucking shower. And he sure as hell hoped she had a bed larger than a twin-sized in a bedroom bigger than a closet.

  He lived in a spacious studio-like condo in Shadow Valley and if he ever built a house, it would need to have an open floor plan like Mercy and Rissa’s.

  He could never live in a house like this.

  But then, he wasn’t moving in. He was just moving in on the woman who lived here.

  He was only here to break the seal, then he could leave, head back to his motel and plot his next steps in finding Taz.

  But the fantasies he had about Frankie before she showed up at his room yesterday and again after she left were about to go three-dimensional and high definition. No fantasy, all reality.

  “Loquilla?” he called up the steps. Was she ready and waiting for him?

  Fuck, he hoped so. He was lucky he didn’t crash her piece of shit car on the way to the motel or on the way back since he couldn’t get the picture of her naked and writhing on her bed out of his head. Which made for very distracted driving.

  He might have even run over a squirrel, but he didn’t bother to slow down to check.

  Rest in pieces, little buddy.

  He came prepared this time, though. His Sig, his Buck tactical knife and six of what was left of the twelve-pack box of condoms he’d usually carried in his always-prepared duffle bag. However, no one but him needed to know where he’d used the other six.

  That was classified information.

  He couldn’t imagine they’d need all six this morning. But he’d give it the old college try. He learned perseverance in the Army and was never one to give up until he reached his goal.

  But a realistic goal would be two. Maybe three.

  He grinned and called up the stairs again, “Frankie.”

  His mouth snapped shut as she appeared at the top of the steps, hands on hips, head tilted, her long dark brown hair draped over her shoulders and down her chest.

  His eyes may have bugged out of his head because she wasn’t just standing there looking a little miffed. She was standing there completely naked.

  “Why are you wasting energy by yelling my name? You need to use that energy for other purposes.”

  As soon as the breath rushed back into his lungs, he asked, “Like what?”

  She flung a hand out and her full tits bounced with the movement, catching his attention. “If you had actually come up the steps instead of standing at the bottom and yelling like a three-year-old, then you’d know. Did you bring the condoms?” Her eyes widened when he held up the strip of six. “Aren’t you being a little optimistic?”

  “You said you hadn’t had sex in ‘forever.’ I figured you may want to make up for lost time.” He’d gladly volunteer for that.

  “Well then, why are you still down there and I’m up here?”

  He pressed his lips together and bounded up the steps two at a time. He was lucky he didn’t tackle her to the floor like she did to him earlier. But he wasn’t in the mood to have their first round of sex in the narrow hallway or on the floor, which wasn’t as clean as he kept his own place.

  Instead, he went toe to toe with her and stared down into her upturned face. She was so fucking beautiful. Her dark eyes, her thick black lashes, her full lips...

  “How are you not out of breath after doing that?”

  He cupped her cheeks and said, “The only thing that’s stealing my breath is you standing here naked, knowing that I’ll soon get to taste and touch every part of you.”

  Who just said that? Was that him? He didn’t say shit like that. But he was glad he did when her eyelids lowered and her lips parted.

  “I assume your bedroom is to the right, since it doesn’t have Marvel stickers all over the door.”

  “I like Marvel, too,” she murmured. “There’s something about a man in a tight costume—”

  He swallowed the rest of her words when he took her mouth, sweeping his tongue through it, capturing her groan and keeping it for himself.

  When he released it, he grabbed her shoulder to turn her in the direction of her bedroom and slapped her ass. “Go.”

  Her head twisted to glare at him. “Go?”

  “You heard me. Go.” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Look, we have six condoms. What time does your son get home?” He needed a plan of attack.

  “I pick him up from daycare when I get off of work.”

  Work? Well, that might put a kink in his plans. “You work today?”

  “Yes.”

  This was news. He glanced at his watch. “What time do you work?”

  “I need to be there at ten forty-five.”

  That was an odd time. “Who fucking starts their work day at ten forty-five?”

  “Someone who’s a server at the only semi-fancy restaurant within a thirty-mile radius.”

  Fuck. It was now after eight.

  “How long does it take you to get ready for work?” He saw his window of opportunity closing to use at least three of those condoms.

  “About a half hour, give or take fifteen minutes.”

  What? “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “That’s what we should be doing instead of standing out here in this hallway discussing how long we have until I have to leave for work.”

  He pointed toward her bedroom. “And I told you to ‘go’ and you had to sass me.”

  Her eyebrows shot up to her forehead and her head jerked back. “I sassed you?”

  There it was. That fire. “Yeah, you gave me and are still giving me that loquilla attitude.”

  “If you don’t watch your attitude, you’re going to be leaving with the same number of condoms as you walked in with.”

  “And your dry spell will continue,” he reminded her.

  She pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Good point,” she muttered, then turned and strutted that curvy ass of hers right through her bedroom door. “Hur
ry up!” she called over her shoulder.

  She might not want to encourage him to hurry anything. It had been a few weeks for him, and he was raring to go. He hadn’t realized how long it had been until he found his condoms buried deep at the bottom of his duffle.

  He had been slacking on finding female companionship since this search for Taz had been taking up most of his time, with working out at Shadow Valley Fitness the rest.

  Good thing that was going to be corrected here this morning. If he stopped standing at the top of the steps like a dumb ass.

  When he walked through the doorway, a hand reached out, grabbed the waistband of his jeans and hauled him inside as the door slammed shut behind him.

  “About time,” she said dragging him across the room toward the bed. He was relieved to see she had a decent-sized mattress. Maybe not a king, but a queen was good enough, and he was just glad it wasn’t a single, otherwise he’d just be bending her over it.

  He grabbed her wrist, planted his heels and jerked her to a halt. “Let’s get one thing straight.”

  Her dark brown eyes hit his. “Just one?”

  “Yeah, it’s an important one. I said I like spicy, loquilla, but that does not mean domineering, remember that.”

  She smiled and lifted one shoulder. “Okay.”

  That was too easy.

  “I’m fine with you driving the bus, but let’s get on board,” she encouraged him.

  While she climbed onto the bed and propped herself up with the pillows, he moved to her dresser and unclipped his holster, setting it on the top. He kept his eyes on her, letting his gaze roam over every curve and peak of her. Her tits were big enough to fuck. Her ass was big enough to fuck. And so was her mouth.

  And, damn, he didn’t know where he wanted to start first. Once his head was free of his shirt, his eyes landed on her again and he knew exactly where he would start.

  Her knees were cocked open, one hand cupped her own tit, and the other was sliding down her belly to...

  Fuck. She had bushwhacked all right. The hair right above her pussy had been trimmed in the shape of an... arrow. Which pointed right at his first target.

  “I have a good sense of direction, didn’t need the visual, loquilla.”

  “Well, I figured just in case you got lost.”

  His hands went to his belt buckle. “I’ve got a pretty good compass.”

  “Men don’t like to stop and ask for directions.”

  “I’m not most men.”

  “I hope not,” she whispered as she watched him unzip his jeans to relieve the pressure his erection was causing.

  “I never fed you breakfast,” he heard as he bent over to unlace his boots and toe them off. “You must be hungry.”

  He grinned at the floor, then straightened and shoved his jeans down his legs and over his knife holster. “Starving.” He stepped out of them, removed his Buck knife, putting it next to his Sig, then slipped out of his socks and boxers.

  Her eyelids were heavy as she played with herself, watching him strip down. She liked what she saw.

  Good. He liked what he saw, too. A flush crept from her chest into her cheeks. Her dark nipples were puckered, just waiting for his mouth. But they would have to wait.

  He needed to follow the arrow first. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her there. Of burying his tongue inside her before burying his cock.

  Which he fisted once, twice, as he approached the bed, his actions drawing her eyes. He tossed the strip of condoms by her side so they were within reach, planted his knee into the mattress and climbed onto the bed.

  Then he dropped to his belly and buried his head between her thick thighs, tracing the tip of his tongue along both creases where those thighs met her pussy. Her nails dug into his shoulders painfully and he allowed it because he liked it.

  He tipped his eyes up to hers when he ran the flat of his tongue up one plump, slick labia and then the other.

  Fuck yes, this woman could get wet. She was probably ready for him now, but he didn’t want to rush their first time.

  Using the V of his fingers, he separated her and lightly blew on her clit. He grinned again when her hips jerked, and her nails dug even deeper into his shoulders. The slight pain kept him from losing it and just taking her like he really wanted to do. Kept him there in the moment.

  The last time he had sex, it was a quick fuck in a bathroom stall in a bar in downtown Pittsburgh. The blonde was shallow, had big, fake tits that hardly jiggled and she probably only fucked him so he’d buy her drinks the rest of the night.

  He didn’t.

  There was nothing fake about Frankie. No plastic surgery. Her hair didn’t seem to be dyed. No fake eyelashes, no fake nails, those were all real. She probably couldn’t afford to pamper herself.

  But he liked what he saw. She didn’t hide the curve of her belly and her tits jiggled and bounced when she moved. Her hips were wide, but her waist defined. But it was her ass and thighs he couldn’t get enough of. The first time he took her, she would be on her back. The second time he would have her on her belly or her knees.

  But this time... this time he wanted to watch her face, her reactions.

  He wanted to study the arch of her throat, taste the tight beads of her nipples, lick along her pulse, kiss her lips, explore her mouth. Stare into those dark eyes when he buried himself deep and came.

  He wanted it all.

  She seemed to be a woman who would give it all. If she wanted to give it to you. If not, you were shit out of luck. She had two speeds... Go and stop.

  Her head was tipped up and she looked a little annoyed. “Are you just going to breathe on me, or are you going to make me come?”

  He lifted his head. “A little fucking impatient, are we?”

  “Well, it’s been over four years.”

  “Did he make you come?”

  Her expression made it evident she wasn’t expecting that question. And he wasn’t sure why he asked it. Because, truth be told, he really didn’t want to know.

  “Occasionally.”

  He could live with that answer. “With me it won’t be occasionally.” Because, fuck it... ¿Quién es más macho?

  With a curl to the corner of her lips, she dropped her head back onto the pillow and said to the ceiling, “Good.”

  “Good,” he murmured and flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue. Then he got to work.

  Frankie’s brain had stopped working. She couldn’t think at all. All she could do was feel what he was doing to her. His mouth was latched onto one nipple and he was not gentle at all. It was almost painful.

  Almost. But not quite to the point of telling him to stop.

  “Yes,” she hissed. No, she was encouraging him instead.

  He had her wrists pinned above her head and he was powering deep. His hips like pistons as he pumped hard, fast, relentless.

  Her eyes rolled back, and she cried out for the hundredth time when he adjusted the tilt of his hips again, making sure he couldn’t take it any deeper.

  Oh fuck, he couldn’t.

  Could he?

  He needed to release her arms so she could grab his ass and see if it was possible. Every thrust pushed the air from her lungs, and as soon as she’d suck in another breath, he’d slam it right back out of her.

  She was close to coming a third time. There was something about his hips. Whatever he was doing...

  Fuck. Whatever he was doing, he needed to continue.

  The twinge of pain he caused with his teeth and mouth only enhanced what those hips were doing. He was a powerhouse.

  And he didn’t treat her like she was some delicate flower. He gave her his all.

  Because if this wasn’t his “all” he might be able to do some damage.

  With a last nip to her breast, he surged upward, taking her mouth again, forcing her lips open, taking control.

  He swallowed every one of her gasps and she couldn’t stop them from coming.

  She only wished she cou
ld watch him move, his back, his ass, his thighs. Just imagining his muscles bunching as he drove hard and deep, took her to that point of no return.

  And she didn’t fight it. She let it happen. She broke her mouth free and rolled her head back as she cried out, pulsating around him, which drove him to pump even faster.

  He finally released her wrists, but she couldn’t move, she was only a boneless shell as he cupped one of her breasts and kneaded it, then twisted the nipple. His other hand wormed between them and found her overly sensitive clit to thumb it roughly. And suddenly, she was back in the game, digging her fingers into his ass, lifting her hips to meet him thrust for thrust, their damp cheeks glued together, his grunts filling her ear.

  And, Jesus, if this man pulled a fourth climax from her...

  Moments later he did just that, as he shoved his face into her neck and groaned, his body flexing and curling as he drove deep one last time.

  After she began to come down from her orgasmic high, she closed her eyes and tried to wrangle her out-of-control breath, but she gave up on that and figured if she hyperventilated it was well worth it.

  Especially when he left his face buried against her throat while his body relaxed, and he gave her some of his weight.

  Not all of it, though, because he was bigger and built from solid muscle and while she was curvy, he still weighed a lot more than her.

  Or, at least, she hoped he did.

  Didn’t matter. He hadn’t been turned off by what he saw. When she stood at the top of the steps in all her glory, his eyes had become heated and hyper-focused, leaving no doubt he wanted her.

  She was a single mother who’d pushed out a kid three years ago and still carried that extra baggage. She wasn’t a gym bunny and never would be, and you wouldn’t catch her going for a jog through town. No, instead you’d see her sneaking back into the kitchen at The Carriage House and standing next to the chef to taste his newest masterpiece as he explained to her how to make it.

  She liked to eat, but she loved to cook. That had been her dream, to be a chef. She wanted to express herself through food, but never got that chance.

  However, the man whose breath was starting to beat a little slower against her damp skin seemed to enjoy her stuffed peppers yesterday.