by Nicole Snow
Fire. Pleasure. Climax.
I come hard and cry out, digging my nails into his head, holding him so hard against my pussy I'm afraid he's going to suffocate.
Thankfully, SEALs are too tough to drown between a woman's legs. Chris just licks me more aggressively, sweeps his tongue across my clit while it's pinched between his teeth, carrying me through the brilliant, screaming storm.
I never know when I stop coming. When I open my eyes, he's naked and on top of me, shoving his cock through my wet silk. I feel his balls jerk to a stop against my ass, and my pussy twitches, flexing around him.
He's so fucking perfect. We're perfect, molded to fit together in the fullest carnal sense.
“There's a good chance I'm leaving soon, baby. Make tonight count,” he growls, stopping to stamp his hot lips and stubble across my throat. He sucks the nook below my ear so hard I know he'll leave a bruise, and I don't care.
“What? There's a mission?”
“Never can tell. That's up to the higher ups. But I know when I smell shit going down, and right now it's an open sewer.” He runs his hand through my hair, tugs my locks in one fist, and pulls, just as he rears back and drives his cock into me again. “Fuck me just like that. Fuck me like you're gonna take my dick when I finally come home. Let's do this thing so hard I'll feel like I'm already having homecoming sex.”
“Chris...”
I say his name softly, but the time for tenderness is over. All the wild energies from the party take over.
His cock slams into me again and again, so much force my hips flex off the table before smashing back into it. I pinch my legs around him, tighter than I've ever held him before. I love how he feels just gliding through my hot, wet pussy, straight up to my womb, and then coming down again, only to lunge forward and fill me all over again.
It's rhythmic. It's fiery. It's so intense I'm on the verge of tears when he starts to grunt and tense up.
The wine cellar always feels a little humid, but tonight it's a damned sauna. Sweat rolls off us in rivulets, and I impulsively rise at one point when he slows his strokes, kissing the drops off his chest.
He tastes salty, masculine, strong.
Just like the sea that keeps calling him away from me, the ocean that wants to pull him away from our love, into dangers I can't comprehend.
His mouth covers mine, owning it. His tongue punches deep, fucking me with the same rough tempo in his hips. I kiss him back harder, sucking him as hard and long as I can, throwing my hands over his neck and digging my nails deep.
“Fuck!” he grunts like a wolf, and I see the killer instinct sparkling in his dark green eyes.
I thought our night was crazy before, but now I feel like a total psycho. A deprived, depraved, sexually famished lunatic. The only cure in the world is his cock, his come.
His sweat, his scent, his thrusts.
“Fuck me so hard it hurts,” I tell him, digging my nails into his neck. “Show me what you've got, Chris, before you take it all to the battlefield. I want you to break me. Leave me something to remember, no matter what happens. Mark me.”
I hear myself saying this crap, and I know I've lost my mind. But deep in my heart, it all feels right, and I realize I owe it all to him.
The virgin good girl died in Vegas. I'm his woman now, and I want to be everything he wants, the brightest, most beautiful spark in his churning inferno.
He doesn't say a word. He starts fucking me faster, faster, faster than we've ever gone before.
His hands squeeze my ass so hard it hurts, lifting me off the granite countertop and slamming me back down again. It's probably going to lose a few bruises, but so what?
The pleasure arcing through my body overwhelms everything. His chest moves so fast the dragon moves like a comet. My arms and legs are burning, and it's hard to breathe. All the oxygen in my lungs drops out as the most intense orgasm of my whole life rips out.
“Chris!” His name rockets out before I'm overwhelmed. It takes all the energy in my body to squeeze out the last two words. “Love. You.”
He's slamming me against the counter like a ragdoll, just as breathless as I am, right on the edge. My pussy clenches as his cock starts to balloon, a prelude to the fire about to fill me, hot come flooding my depths in waves.
He shoves his face against my neck, sucks my flesh into his mouth, and bites down. Hard.
The shock makes my explosion ten times harder.
I come like it's the last time. Ever.
A thousand futures roll before my eyes in a single heartbeat, all the futures with Chris I want and need. Pleasure roars like rising flames, crackling all around me, blinding me, fusing me to him.
I hear him grunt through the swirling chaos, and feel his seed split me in two. We're hooked. One.
Pumping, twitching, groaning, melting...
This time the ecstasy hits like a tornado, stronger and wilder by the second, pulling me deeper into its undertow. I can't let up, can't breathe, can't even recognize who the hell I am. There's just him and I, his cock and my pussy, plus about a million bolts of lightning tearing me apart.
Everything goes white. Then red and black. My clit feels like it's going to burst if it doesn't drown in his come first, overflowing all around us. I want to hold onto it, the pleasure and his seed, root it inside me while his cock continues to jerk, taking his last pleasure while my pussy convulses.
But I can't. I've come close to passing out a dozen times with him before, and this time I actually do.
Fuck.
XII: Sweet Delia (Chris)
“Delia! Wake the fuck up. This isn't funny.” If I weren't so freaked out, I'd slap her.
She's been out for like five minutes, barely breathing. I'm about to spin around, pop one of these two hundred year old corks, and splash thousand dollar wine all over her face when she finally moans.
I wrap my hands around her and lift her up, kissing over the dark, red stamps my teeth left on her neck.
I'm not sure what the fuck I was thinking. The girl went crazy, completely loco on my dick. I matched her with my own mad thrusts, fucked her so hard she'd break. Now, I'm trying to make sure I didn't short-circuit her whole system for real.
“Did I really black out?” she whines, running her hands down my chest.
I laugh and kiss her forehead. It's slick with sweat and bathed in her hormones, some wild, feminine scent I can't ignore. It also makes my dick throb like a greedy motherfucker, and right now I know she needs to rest.
“You scared the shit out of me. I was about to start CPR. Always fantasized about fucking a chick senseless, but it looks like the reality is something else.”
“Well, you were good. It was worth it,” she says, running her tongue gingerly along her lips.
Fuck. If some crazy bastard offered me a million bucks to hang with her like this without getting turned on, I'd lose in about ten seconds flat.
This girl's a natural at getting me hard, bringing out the wild animal inside me. When we're fucking, it's like nothing else in the world matters – especially not the fact that she's my step-lover, and I'm about to leave her behind for the most dangerous mission I've ever dealt with.
“You're talking like it's already over,” I tell her, teasing my lips against hers. “Let's go upstairs and get you some water. Breathe some fresh summer air. We'll pick this up in my room, and this time you're staying with me through the whole damned thing.”
She laughs softly. Fuck, do I love that sound. If I have my way – and I will – it's all I'm gonna be hearing when she's around, nothing but bliss to make up for all the bullshit we've been through on our way here.
I throw on my pants and look for her underwear. I've destroyed one bra strap, completely snapped it in two. She gawks at me, trying to fix it on, holding one arm across her tits.
“You wanted me to leave marks,” I remind her. “Guess that extends to the clothing too. Save that shit for the long nights when you're missing me. I'll keep these.”
<
br /> I stuff her cool, soaked panties into my pocket. She bugs her eyes out and laughs, shaking her head, unable to believe I'm not just screwing around.
I'm dead serious.
She'll find out soon. These are coming with me all the way to North Korea, where the poor oppressed fucks have probably never seen a pair of sexy lingerie outside Dear Leader's palace.
“Better get that dress on quick unless you want me to carry you upstairs naked.”
“You wouldn't dare,” she says, lifting it off the floor and trying to struggle her way into it.
“Try me. I already got your pussy hot in front of about a dozen people.” I step toward her, reaching for her open dress, helping get it over her shoulders again. “You don't know half the shit I'm gonna do to you, babe. You think you've seen anything? Give it a few more years. I'm gonna make you the sexiest chick on earth.”
She replies with a kiss, and I taste her as long as I can. It's only a few seconds with the way my dick starts to ache, begging to plow her again, so I grab her by the wrist and we're out the door.
She's still laughing and brushing her fingers on my arm as we step outside.
I barely notice what's in front of us, at first, too lost in the pleasure. That makes it so much fucking worse when I finally do.
When I see the bitch, Delia's soft little nail strokes become tiny daggers.
“Mom?” I push her hand away, bowing up like I'm staring down a viper. “What the fuck are you doing lurking out here?”
She smiles sweetly. Or, rather, imitates what Evie thinks a sweet, friendly smile looks like coming from normal people.
“Oh, you know how we all are with our phones these days, son. I've just been out here enjoying the show.” She flips through something on her screen, never shaking off that wicked ass grin. “Wow, and I thought the pictures I snapped upstairs while you two danced were pretty hot! Your father's going to have a coronary when he sees these, Cordelia.”
Fuck! I want to run up, rip the phone out of her hands, and smash it into a million smithereens. But I already know how futile it is before her phone pings, and she opens her mouth again.
“Oh, that's Bruce now,” she purrs, looking up at Delia. “He's got the message, loud and clear. Looks like daddy's coming home early from Atlanta. He wants to have a heart-to-heart with his son and daughter, and who can blame him?”
Delia's little hand was shaking in mine before, but now it's like she's coming apart. I pull her tighter, step forward, between Evie and her.
“So what? We weren't gonna keep this under wraps forever anyway. I was planning on telling her old man myself next week, but thanks for sticking your damned nose where it doesn't belong once again, mother.”
The same green eyes I see staring back at me in the mirror jump around in her head. She's pissed that I'm not more rattled. I won't let her see that it's taking all my military focus to hold it together right now, to avoid carrying Delia upstairs, jumping in my truck, and leaving this fucking asylum forever.
It's not good enough for mom. She marches up, shoots her hand out, and slaps me across the face. It barely stings compared to the shit I've been through overseas, but it resonates through me like a fireball, threatening to turn everything I've built with my girl to ash.
I hear Delia sniffle, feel her reach up with her free hand to wipe her eyes. The urge to put my own devilish mother out of her misery with my bare hands has never been greater than it is right now.
“You hit me like that again, and you're going away in handcuffs. I'll have the cops here in a heartbeat.” All my reason is hanging by a thread in those words.
“Sure you will, you dickless little shit. You're just like your father. Not man enough to deal with me on your own terms. Always having to run away, or get somebody else involved.” She looks at the ground for a second and honest-to-God spits, before our eyes lock again. “You're such an embarrassment. You think you're stronger than everybody else, including the woman who suffered to squeeze you out? You think running around playing SEAL means everybody has to worship the ground you walk on, including this slut?”
Evie gestures at my girl with one bright green fingernail, and I swear I'm going to break it the fuck off. My muscles are totally wound up, ready to strike, ready to kill.
If only it were that easy. I've never learned how to handle her shit when she's this evil, and now she's just dropped an atom bomb on our heads.
I do the only thing I can. I turn around, squeeze Delia tight, cradle her in my chest. All the pain inside her comes ripping out. I push my fingers through her hair, a human wall between the psycho hellbent on ruining our promises.
“Uh-huh, go ahead, keep ignoring me, Christopher. Typical. You've got about – hmmm?” I hear her pause, as if she's checking the time. “Three hours until Bruce gets back. Better start packing. I'd tell you to bring the college girl with you, but something tells me there isn't room on base for her. Never mind the poor dear being a fish out of water without this glamorous life. I don't think she's ready to be without her father's riches and no man. She knows it's just a matter of time until you leave her to go on another mission to some God forsaken, savage land.”
“Shut. Up!” Delia tears herself away from me and it comes tearing out. Before I can stop her, she puts her hands on my mother's shoulders, and pushes her hard.
“Why are you such a freak? Why!? Is it the drugs? Why do you think it's your place to get between our love?”
I'm ready to restrain my mother, expecting her to fight back. Instead, she just straightens herself and smooths her skirt, the same freakishly calm smile on her lips.
Sonofabitch. I wonder what the hell she's got pumping in her system now, giving her this cruel, otherworldly focus.
“Dears, I haven't had so much as a non-alcoholic beer since leaving rehab. I'm completely sober. That's what's so amazing about this – I can see how insane this...this thing between you is. How wrong, how confused you both are. And I'm going to put a stop to it. It's taken me a long time to save myself, and now I'm ready to save my family too.”
It's so goddamned eye rolling I almost go blind. So, she's in her manic phase today, up on her high horse, ready to swing her sword and take everybody else's heads off for her own ego.
“And Cordelia, if you ever put your hands on me again, Christopher won't be the only one calling the cops,” she says with a smirk. “Haven't you done enough damage by fucking your own stepbrother and destroying your father's fragile psyche? Are you really going to make him pick you up from jail too?”
Delia looks like she's going to explode. I need to shut this fucking demon up, before she gets us right where she wants us, in too deep. She wants us to hurt her so she can play victim. I'm not gonna let that happen.
“Get out of our way,” Delia snarls, walking several paces ahead, stopping just short of Evie in the hall.
“What's the matter? The basement was perfectly fine while you were defiling my wine cellar, kids.”
“Move, mother. I won't ask again.”
“Then knock me to the ground, big boy. Throw me flat. I know you'll try to get in touch with Bruce and twist his righteous anger into supporting this sick fling you're both enjoying. I'm going to make good and well sure you're truly separated.”
I'm about to push past her and pull Delia with me when she lunges. The crazy bitch goes right for my eyes with her jade fingernails, and I twist away. Delia and I both catch her, shove her, fling her so hard against the wall she hits with a loud smack.
I'm surprised there isn't a hole in the drywall. Mom spins, sputtering, one hand near her abdomen like she's got a broken rib.
Shit.
“Now look what you've done,” she growls, pressing her fingers gingerly into her side and wincing. Delia's hand goes clammy and cold in mine as we watch her dial something on the phone, lift it to her lips, and start talking.
“Hello, Sheriff? It's Evie Cleveland at the Burr estate. There's an emergency here. Yes, Bruce and Evangeline Burr, that
's...”
She starts rattling off our address. I jerk Delia forward before my asshole mother can block our way again. We're flying upstairs.
She's in full tears, barely able to move, so I hoist her up and carry her. The house is completely dark upstairs, but it doesn't stop me from leaping over drunken stragglers on the ground, heading for the garage.
“Jesus, Chris, what's going on? What are we going to do? We're fucked.”
I clench my jaw. It's the last time I ever want her saying that word unless there's something sexy behind it.
I don't say a word until I throw her in the passenger seat and start buckling her seat belt. She isn't protesting anymore by the time I start the engine. The slowest garage door in the world opens, and I'm tearing down the long, winding road downhill.
My fingers tap the alert for the snob in the guardhouse over and over again, but he isn't opening shit. I stop next to his window for about three seconds.
A single look inside tells me everything I need to know. He's standing up at full attention, a stern look on his face. He doesn't even open his window, just shakes his head and points back at the house, one hand near the taser on his hip.
He's got balls for wanting to tango with a Navy SEAL in full combat mode, I'll give him that. Tonight, balls aren't enough.
“Baby, hold on.”
It's all the warning I give her before I floor it. The guard panics, shouts, and then there's nothing at all but the screaming crunch of metal-on-metal as my truck smashes through the gate.
Delia bursts into tears all over again and covers her face. It takes us a full minute on the open road, roaring down it like we're riding a bullet, before she starts laughing.
“What's so damned funny?” I snarl, trying to decide where the hell we should go. I remember the mid-tier motel the navy set us up at, and I start heading in that direction, wondering if my beautiful girl's truly lost her mind.
“It's nothing,” she says, wiping at her tears. “I knew what we're doing is wrong, Chris. Taboo. But I never thought it'd make us wanted. How many laws did we just break? How long before Evie sics the entire city PD on us?”