Forged in Desire

by Brenda Jackson

  “I could have taken off my own shoes,” he heard her say.

  “I wanted to do it.” Didn’t she know that when a man undressed a woman he covered all bases, from head to toe, and especially those areas in between? Her red nail polish was a total turn-on and complemented a pair of pretty feet. He appreciated a woman who liked looking good in her clothes, under her clothes, in her shoes and out of them.

  “Now for these,” he said, reaching up to gently grab the waistband of her jeans. “They have to go.” He couldn’t wait to see what color panties she was wearing, what style. He had a feeling it didn’t really matter. They would definitely look good on her.

  Another thing he noticed was that she had a pretty flat stomach that was attached to a gorgeous pair of hips. Her navel was a cutie as well, and he couldn’t resist leaning in close and copping a lick. Then another. And another.

  “Striker?”

  “Hmm?” He hoped she wouldn’t tell him to stop because he enjoyed the taste of her skin. He finally pulled back and looked up at her and smiled. “You like that?”

  “Yes, I like it a lot.”

  He thought about how much he loved her honesty while he slowly eased down her zipper, and when he saw a flash of red, his erection hardened even more. Red panties on a woman was like seeing fire. Something inside of him—probably the desire to bury his head between her legs—made him quickly pull her jeans down past her hips, curvaceous thighs and gorgeous legs. After she’d stepped out of them and stood there in her red lace bikini-cut panties, he felt his balls nearly explode. She was so friggin’ hot.

  “When will I get the chance to take off your clothes?” she asked, and he could tell she was nervous about being on display. He would remedy that soon.

  “Right now, it’s all about you,” he said, tugging the panties down her legs. Those mesmerizing dark eyes staring down at him made him wish he could make it all about her every day.

  Striker drew in a sharp breath and knew he had to pull himself together and stop thinking such foolish thoughts. There could be no every day with her, and for him to even think otherwise was as crazy as it could get.

  He leaned back on his haunches and stared at the juncture of her thighs. She had a gorgeous-looking sex. Those womanly folds were plump, ready to be divided and conquered. Or should he say divided and taken. In his frame of mind it was the same thing. He couldn’t wait to taste her. “You look amazing.”

  * * *

  MARGO WASN’T SURE what she could say to that. No man had ever been in awe of her there, and no one had ever said they thought she looked amazing. Scott would give her compliments, but they couldn’t compare to some of the things that came out of Striker’s mouth.

  And talking about his mouth...

  He was staring at her and licking his lips. This was where she could only imagine what would happen next since she had no experience of a man going down on her. She had heard her college roommates whispering about men doing it to them. She’d only listened, unable to add a thing. But she’d definitely taken something away. Curiosity.

  Now she was about to get her curiosity appeased. But was she ready for Striker Jennings? Could she handle this? There was no doubt in her mind the man was intensely sexual. He probably had the ability to make a woman scream, and she never screamed.

  She then recalled what he’d said about hearing her in the shower. Was her bedroom bugged? Had he been listening to everything she did without her knowing it all this time? Was bugging her bedroom one of the security measures the tech guy Bruce had done? One that Striker had refused to elaborate about? If he thought making love to her would make her forget about him invading her privacy that way, he was wrong. But for now she was more than willing to concentrate on other things, like how Striker was making her feel.

  Not sure what was in store and wary of how much she could handle, she was about to take a step back when he reached out and grabbed hold of her hips. And the moment he touched her, she knew she would see this through. Margo wanted to know what all the mystery was about when it came to oral sex, and more than anything, she wanted Striker to be the one to show her.

  He looked up at her. “And now for that pleasure I promised you.”

  He leaned closer and began placing small nibbles around her womanhood. The same kind of nibbles he’d nipped around her lips earlier. But this area seemed more sensitive. More in need. And when he took his hands and opened her and eased closer to insert his tongue inside of her, she nearly buckled to her knees. She had to place her hands on his shoulders to remain standing.

  There was something about his tongue moving inside of her, lapping her up one minute and then sucking on her the next. She felt sensations ripple through her entire body, and the moans that poured from her lips couldn’t be helped. The man was eating her alive. He tightened his hold on her hips and drove his tongue deeper. She wasn’t sure how that was possible, but feeling was believing.

  And then the pleasure he’d told her about began mounting inside of her, making her whimper, making her entire body tremble before an orgasmic blast detonated inside of her.

  “Striker!”

  She screamed, and her hands dug into his shoulders, but he wouldn’t let up. Nor did he let go. With no control, she felt another orgasm shoot through her. It was only then that he let her go, as he gently eased her back down on the sofa.

  “I want to get inside of you, Margo.”

  In a near daze, she lay on the sofa just as he’d placed her. Naked and spread-eagle, she watched him nearly rip off his clothing. He tossed his shirt near the love seat, missing it by an inch as he kicked off his shoes. He didn’t waste any time unzipping his pants and lowering them down strong, muscular legs. Now that he’d undressed, she saw more tattoos on his body and thought the artwork was beautiful, especially the one she got a brief look at when he turned to pull a condom from his pants pocket—a fierce-looking dragon with fangs resting between his shoulder blades.

  “I thought that I would be undressing you,” Margo said as she paid close attention to how easily he sheathed himself in a condom.

  “Next time. I need you too much now.”

  Her breath caught when she saw the size of his erection. Holy cow! And he thought she was amazing? He was male perfection. Extraordinary. Striker was definitely striking.

  He moved toward where she lay on the sofa, opened and ready. He settled on her body and immediately took her mouth. But she felt the head of his massive manhood probing at the entrance to her womanhood.

  And when he slowly began sinking inside her, on instinct she adjusted her body to wrap her legs around him. “We’re going slow and easy at first,” he said as he began gently thrusting back and forth inside of her. “And then we finish fast and hard.”

  All she could do was nod. Too many sensations were tearing into her with every thrust he made. How was that possible on the heels of two climaxes? Her nails sank into his shoulder blades, and she wrapped her legs tighter around him, crossing her ankles at the base of his back. She held on as his thrusts started coming fast and hard.

  He was looking down at her. She hadn’t known making love to a man could be this perfect. This right. Her inner muscles clenched him, milked him. Needing to give as well as take.

  Margo couldn’t handle the sensations anymore. She could no longer hold them at bay, and when he whispered close to her ear, “Go ahead and let go, baby,” she did. Never had she screamed so loud. And he kept thrusting, kept pounding, kept moving in and out of her. Then his body buckled and he became overtaken with the same climax. It felt as though her body, her soul, had been forged with his in their shared desire. She had been captured by pleasure and satisfied beyond a shadow of doubt.

  And when he shifted their bodies and rolled with her onto his side, she became overwhelmed. Her orgasms tonight had been so spectacular. And she could only thank Striker
for that.

  “We’ll take a nap,” he whispered in her ear while drawing her even closer to his side.

  A nap? Margo figured it had to be past three in the morning. She yawned as he held her tenderly in his arms. A nap might not be such a bad idea after all.

  * * *

  THE DRIVER OF the black sedan pulled the car to the shoulder of the road, killed the ignition, opened the door and got out, inhaling the crisp mountain air before pulling the coat tighter. It had taken just a couple of drive-bys to get a feel for the best time to make a move. All the plans were falling into place rather nicely.

  Looking up into the night’s sky, he was sure that snow would be falling by morning, although the moon and stars were out in full force. All in all, it was a beautiful night, and Margo Connelly needed to appreciate such nights while she could. When the time came, she would be taken care of.

  A chuckle permeated the night’s air. This would be fun.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A SERIES OF kisses scattered around his mouth woke Striker, and he slowly opened his eyes. A deep, drugging rush of desire filled him when he met Margo’s gaze. He’d never been awakened quite like this and had no complaints.

  He forced his gaze from hers to glance around the living room and saw the scattered clothing. His and hers. They’d never made it upstairs. After making love on the sofa a couple of times, they’d settled in with her stretched out on top of him. He’d grabbed a blanket from one of her closets to cover their nakedness from the cool temperature of the room.

  “Good morning, Striker.”

  She was smiling, and that combined with those kisses meant there were no morning-after regrets on her part. “Good morning, Margo.”

  “I need to go to the bathroom, and your leg is holding me down,” she said, brushing another kiss across his lips.

  “Oh.”

  Their legs were entwined, so he shifted and released his leg’s hold on hers. As soon as he did, she got up, stretching her naked limbs before grabbing the blanket to wrap around her body.

  “I’ll be back in a second, and when I return, be prepared to discuss why you thought it was okay to invade my privacy by bugging my room. I haven’t forgotten what you said last night about listening to me shower.”

  That was not a conversation he wanted to have with her. Easing up, he looked at his watch. “Shit.” He hadn’t realized it was that late. When was the last time he had slept past eight in the morning? It didn’t matter that it had been close to five before they’d settled down to get some sleep. He needed to get a grip and keep in mind that he wasn’t here for a damn sleepover.

  “We need to get a move on and get dressed. Quasar will be arriving with breakfast shortly.”

  When she dashed out of the living room to use the bathroom, Striker rubbed his face and inwardly cursed himself out. He’d let his guard down and crossed the line with a client. But not with any client. His boss’s niece. He’d known better, yet he’d done it anyway. A sexual attraction between a man and woman was healthy. But this particular attraction could get them both killed if he didn’t stay on top of things.

  He quickly stood, reached for his clothes and began putting them on. His gun and holster were a glaring reminder of why he was here.

  His cell phone rang. “Yeah, Quasar?”

  “Anything special the two of you want for breakfast this morning?”

  “No. The usual is fine, but hold off coming for another hour.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re just getting up.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  Striker didn’t like the sound of that but decided not to ask his friend to elaborate. “I’ll see you when you get here.” Clicking off the phone, he contemplated a shave and a shower.

  “I’m back.”

  He glanced over at Margo as he strapped on his Beretta and holster. She was standing there wrapped in a blanket that really wasn’t covering much of her naked body. “I just talked to Quasar. He’s going to give us time to shower and dress before coming with breakfast.”

  “Good. I’m hungry.”

  He watched her discard the blanket as she picked up her clothes. Since he’d become Margo’s protector, getting an erection was one of his prominent pastimes. And now that he had firsthand knowledge of how it felt to be inside that body and just how that body tasted, he could see himself staying hard. Forcing his gaze off her, he knew he had a problem. A definite problem.

  “So is my bedroom really bugged, or were you just joking about that?”

  He hadn’t been joking, but now was not the time to have that conversation. He figured she would be royally pissed about it. “We can’t discuss this now, Margo. An hour will be up before you know it.”

  “Fine. Just don’t think I’m going to forget about it.”

  “Whatever,” he said. Her hair was mussed. Why did he like it that way?

  “I’m ready to go upstairs now, Striker.”

  Could the reason he liked her hair be his recollection of riding her hard while running his hands through it, tightening his hold on a few locks?

  “Striker?”

  He blinked. “Yes?”

  “I said, I’m ready to go upstairs now.”

  “Oh, okay.” It was his routine to precede her wherever she went for safety measures. Damn, he needed to stay focused and accept that for him and Margo there couldn’t be any more make-out sessions. Somehow they needed to get their footing back on level ground and remember the reason his presence was required in the first place. He was here to protect her. He wouldn’t fail her like he’d done with Wade. That meant during breakfast they needed to have a real serious talk. And during that conversation he would admit to bugging her room. He was well aware there was a pretty good chance all hell would break loose with that confession.

  She followed behind him as he moved up the stairs. “How long will it take for you to finish showering and dressing?” he asked when they reached the landing.

  Easing up close to him, she said in a flirty voice, “It depends on whether or not you plan to join me, Striker.”

  Why did she have to go there and make his already aroused body even more stimulated? Her words alone could stroke him, make him fantasize about sharing a shower with her. He had to hold tight to what little control he had left. It might be a good idea to get Quasar to cover for him while he took a few days off. He needed space from Margo to get his mind back under control and hope that his body would follow suit.

  “I got a few calls to make.”

  “Oh.”

  He tried not to notice the disappointment in her eyes. “I’ll be standing right here when you’re finished.”

  * * *

  SCOTT DYLAN CLOSED the door behind the woman he let out of his house. She’d shown up last night for a booty call, and he’d been more than happy to oblige. But now with the early morning and the presence of a new day, he was still angry about his phone conversation last night with Margo.

  He was about to go into his kitchen when his cell phone rang. Picking it up off the table, he already knew who it was. Freddie Siskin, his roommate from college. “What the hell do you want, Freddie?”

  “I dropped by early this morning and saw Wanda’s car. She’s a pretty good lay and gives damn good blow jobs, so why are you in a bad mood?”

  Freddie was right. Wanda did give good blow jobs, and Freddie probably knew that firsthand. Wanda got around. It didn’t bother him. She’d gotten what she’d come for, and he’d made sure he’d gotten what he wanted.

  “Why were you dropping by?” Scott had heard Freddie had gotten laid off from his job at the bank. He hoped Freddie wasn’t trying to hit him up for a loan. He and Freddie hadn’t been the best of friends since that stunt he’d pulled with Margo involving those snakes. And then Freddie’s lie to th
at FBI agent that Scott had known about it had prompted Scott to cool his friendship with Freddie.

  “To tell you something I found out about your ex-girlfriend.”

  “Who? Margo?”

  “Yes, that bitch, Margo.”

  Scott knew Freddie was still angry that Margo had threatened them both with jail time unless they donated all that money to her favorite charity. Criminal records were the last thing they’d wanted or needed.

  “What about her?”

  “She played you, man.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I haven’t gotten over how she made us pay all that money to some damn charity. Who does that, man? Give that much money away? She must be somebody who had a lot to give away. That’s when I knew she had to be loaded and was just making those damn wedding gowns for the fun of it.”

  Scott shook his head. “Freddie, what point are you trying to make?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that Margo Connelly didn’t need your money like you thought. She was nothing more than a bored little rich broad who didn’t even have to work.”

  “Where did you get a crazy idea like that from?”

  “With no job, I have plenty of free time on my hands. So I did what you should have done when you met her and checked her out. A few searches online and it was easy. She’s worth millions.”

  Scott frowned. Freddie had to be lying. But what if he wasn’t? Scott rubbed his face, considering the possibility of the latter. He recalled how he’d wanted to make Margo dependent on him, make her need him. If what Freddie claimed was true, then Scott could imagine Margo laughing at his antics behind his back.

  “You sure about this, Freddie?”

  “Look her up your damn self. I’m telling you, man, the woman is an heiress. And she has an uncle who’s wealthy as sin too.”

  Scott drew in a deep, angry breath. That was probably the uncle who’d raised her when her parents had died. Why hadn’t she ever told him she was well-off? “I talked to Margo last night before Wanda showed up. I called to see how she was doing since there’s a killer on the loose in her town.”