Storm (Bad Boys of X-Ops #3)

by Rie Warren

Blaize’s hips ratcheted up.

  I anchored her down.

  Working both her holes in tandem, I brought her to a mindless fever pitch and threw her over the edge when my lips softly latched onto her pinked clit.

  Arms raised, she pushed against the headboard, pushed down onto my mouth, my hands, my exploring fingers. A quaking, short laugh tore from her throat.

  I added another finger. And another. Slowly burying them knuckles deep inside her ass I’d been loving and stretching for days.

  Her stomach was a glistening swathe of creamy skin. Her tits bounced on her chest. She lifted up from her heels, riding both my hands that rode both her fucking hot holes.

  “Jesus. You make me wanna pound right into you.” My nostrils flared as I watched her screw herself on my fingers.

  “Uh uh uh!” Stuttering, Blaize grabbed my wrist and stopped me. “Fuck me now.”

  “Get my cock wet.” I kneeled beside her, my eyes glazed over.

  I grunted the moment her hand curled over the heft of my shaft. Her fingers glided—wet and squelching with lubricant—up and down.

  “Get me dripping for your ass.” I held the nape of her neck in my hand, rubbing the tips of my other fingers across her parted mouth.

  She drizzled more lubricant onto my steel-hard shaft before bouncing my balls in her wet palm.

  I knocked her hand away with a shaky, almost-done laugh.

  Lying back, I welcomed her on top. “You wanna be in charge this time?”

  “No. Take me, Storm.”

  Her hands framed my face when I rose above her.

  “Fuck me, babe.” She nipped the side of my mouth.

  I rolled the backs of her thighs up to my shoulders, holding her wide open. My cockhead hovered above her tight, slickened ring.

  Breathing out, I prayed for control, hoped I didn’t hurt her . . .

  Touching the broad tip of my cock to her starred flesh, rubbing dollops of clear jizz around it, I almost fired off without even breaching her.

  But when Blaize needfully pressed up against me, I groaned and huddled closer.

  “Press out. You gotta press out and take it, cher.”

  “I have watched anal porn before, you know?” she sassed back.

  My head rolled on my neck. “Ah hell. We’ll be talkin’ about that later.”

  I watched as the thick head nudged inside.

  Her muscle opened, accepted me, and clamped closed around me.

  “Ah. Fuck.” My fists planted beside her hips, I stopped moving. “Blaize?”

  “Slow. Go slow.”

  I bent over her, holding her head in my hands. Another inch struggled inside her ass. “I will never hurt you. Never hurt you, cher.”

  “I know.” Reaching up, she wound her arms around my neck. “I want to give you this. Give you what was once taken from me.”

  “God, Blaize.” Stalling completely, I nudged her lips with mine.

  She pressed closer, easing inside my mouth with her tongue. The slow burn of a kiss deepened with every second I held still with just my cockhead buried inside her. Then—as she gasped against my devouring mouth—the hot wet slide opened.

  I felt her, taking me inside the tight tunnel.

  Her body pressed up, and I ran my hand down her tummy, to her clit, along her wet, wet, wet folds.

  She jerked up, gasping, swallowing the last veiny inch of my cock into her ass.

  Blaize stilled. Breath halted. Breasts brushing against my chest.

  Her ass filled with me.

  “God. Mon Dieu!” I kissed her earlobes, her flushed face, her parted lips. “Did I hurt you?”

  Her palms skittered along my sides and planted on my ass. “The best hurt.”

  “I have to fuck you.”

  “I want it. I want you.”

  Oh, Fuck.

  I withdrew, her tight clasping passage scorching my cock.

  With my cock held just inside, I rocked back. Deep. So deep she cried out my name, clambered for more, almost crawled on top of me to get it.

  I established a smooth piston motion inside of Blaize’s ass—in no hurry at all. I sucked her nipples, fucked her ass, pressed down on the hood of her clit.

  Drawing her tongue into my mouth, I slammed into her with my full length.

  Wildly turned on, I braced up on an arm. “You like it.”

  Her pussy was like a pressed-open flower when I flicked my fingers over her shiny labia.

  “Love it!” she gusted out. “Love you.” She wrangled her hands around my neck. “Kiss me. Mark me. Fuck me.”

  “Say it again.” I punched my cock into her.

  “I love you, Storm!”

  I pulled out. Drizzled on more lube. Sank hard into her ass.

  Blaize bit my shoulder, almost tearing flesh before she flung backward, totally exposed and open to me.

  Dropping my body onto hers, I plunged into her, slowing the motions as the hot jolt spread into the base of my spine, lanced through my groin.

  She bucked with me, riding the last wave, a scream tightening her throat.

  Come seeded from my slapping balls to the rutting dick she gripped inside her tight ass.

  My teeth flashing against her neck, I pulsed inside her. The hot flow filled the tight hollow and dripped out between our mashed together, taut, sweaty bodies.

  Blaize shuddered with every rope of come I released into her, my body completely stretched over hers. Muscles wrenched tight. My neck corded. A snarl of her name slowly, achingly becoming a deep groan of raw pleasure.

  “Oh my God.” She collapsed back onto the bed, drawing me with her. “I don’t know whether to give you a demotion or a promotion after that.”

  “If you’re judging by how hard I fucking love you and love to fuck you—definitely a promotion.” I slipped out of her as gently as possible, listening to her hiss.

  Warm air met my slippery, hot-to-the-touch cock. Milky come covered the shaft. It trailed from her ass.

  Touching her with just a fingertip, I traced the delicious hole I’d burrowed so deeply inside.

  “My God, woman. That’s insanely hot.”

  With a hoarse laugh, she lightly kissed my neck. “You are such a man.”

  “Much as I love seeing you like this”—leaning over her, I lashed her with my tongue and lips—“gonna get you cleaned up.”

  “Mmm’kay,” she sleepily mumbled.

  Even though I kept my touch tender and light when I used a warm washcloth to take care of her, she roused from sleep.

  I got rid of the washcloth, brought her a glass of water, and slipped into bed beside her with an arm cranked over her waist.

  “Glad you’re still awake.” I brushed bright strands of hair from her temples. “Wanted to give you this.”

  I opened my palm, showing her the small black box.

  With an immediate shake of her head, Blaize tried to skedaddle away from me. “Storm . . .”

  “Merde. Where you going?” I arched an eyebrow at her, latching my arms around her waist. “Do you break out in hives every time emotions are involved?” A low chuckle worked its way from my chest. “Now, take the box, cher, and open it.”

  Her hands shaking, she accepted the gift. Warily—almost as if she expected a poisonous spider or something else horrifying—she opened the jewelry box.

  Inside, on a satin cushion, nestled a delicately made fleur-de-lis pendant necklace embedded with diamonds.

  “Oh, thank God,” she breathed out.

  I snorted. “Blaize. You do know I’m sitting right here, right?”

  “I thought—”

  “I know what you thought.” I took the necklace from her and draped it around her neck so I could work the fancy clasp. “That’s why I’m laughing. Jesus, woman. Give me some credit. When I ask you to marry me there’ll be romance involved, not after I just fucked your ass for the first time.”

  “When you ask me?” She peered up with those vivid cornflower blue eyes, a pretty pink flush on her cheeks
.

  “You heard that right.” Tangling my larger fingers around her smaller ones, I meaningfully rubbed her ring finger.

  “Okay,” she whispered shyly.

  Score.

  “You like it?” I asked.

  She lifted the twinkling ornament, making the diamonds flash. “It really is beautiful, Storm.”

  I lay back, grinning like an idiot. “Bien.”

  Blaize twirled her fingers through the hair on my chest, kissing a slow, sexy path up to my ear.

  “You can call me Nash if you want, Blaize.” I nudged her chin beneath my knuckles, bringing her closer to my lips.

  “You’ll always be Storm to me. The strong dark storm that changed my entire life.”

  Keep reading for the first chapter of

  Bane: Bad Boys of X-Ops #4

  Series finale, coming summer 2016!

  Chapter One

  Location: Mexico City

  November, 2015

  I RUSHED INTO THE crib, shouting, “Justice!”

  Walker—slung across my shoulders—was like a dead weight. Blood from his bullet wound oozed through his pants and dripped down my back, a sticky warm reminder of how badly we’d fucked up.

  The goddamn narcos.

  And goddamn Walker for his big mouth.

  I shouted for Justice again, but the only reply I got in return was the stomping sound of my own boots on the concrete floor of our Mexico City outpost.

  Blaize had said she was just sending Kiki and me, but she changed her mind at the last minute. Everyone was here—in this kitted-out warehouse—Walker, Justice, Storm, Kiki, Blaize, and me. Which was A-OK on one hand, because I had no desire to be alone with the woman we called Baby Spy.

  Or maybe the prob was I had every desire to be alone with her. Really alone. Naked, sweaty, fucking, and alone with Kiki.

  None of the dudes had a damn clue what I really thought about the woman. They all pretty much wanted her dead after Walker’s almost mission failure last spring. Kiki was the only possible target to blame.

  Me? I’d had a huge hard-on for her since the first time I’d set eyes on her. All bad attitude, and wild, long, half-shaved hair. Those enormous ice blue eyes. Her absolute fearlessness and the rockin’ body that could probably withstand every single thing I threw at her.

  One massive reason having the entire gang in Mexico City definitely wasn’t a good thing? I’d been given private orders. Not from Blaize. From those above her head. No one else knew. Turned out my fellow operatives weren’t the only ones who’d rather see Kiki more dead than alive. When I’d gotten the kill order through secret channels just before our mass exodus from DC, I’d almost lost my shit.

  I’d been tasked with killing Kiki Damage. Apparently I was the one operative the higher ups at T-Zone considered to have absolutely no morals or a conscience to dictate my actions.

  Nice.

  And even though everybody on the team, plus the boss lady, had been mobilized for this mission, not a single motherfucker answered my distress call as I stormed through the crib.

  Typical.

  Walker struggled in my fireman’s hold, coughing. “Put a rush job on shit? Kinda bleeding out here, Bane.”

  “Justice, goddammit!” I bellowed again, my bulging muscles finally beginning to tax out from the weight of the heavy man stacked on my back. “Where the hell are you?”

  Stalking through the cavernous sectioned-off warehouse, I checked the barracks, our armory, the computers and logistics unit.

  Empty. Empty. Empty.

  “Shit,” I muttered, making it to the high-tech triage I’d outfitted like a miniature combat support hospital.

  Laying Walker down on his front as gently as possible on the clean-sheeted gurney, I spun around to hit the operating room lights. The area thrown into high beams, I started washing my hands in the tin sink.

  Walker moaned from his prone position.

  Storm skidded around the corner, a frown marking his forehead as soon as he caught sight of wounded Walker, who’d turned pale beneath his normally mahogany-colored skin.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  Storm. Great. Just what I needed after tonight’s FUBAR detail. There was no way this night could unfuck itself now.

  “Where’s Jus?” I asked.

  “Out.”

  “Blaize?” I dried my hands after two thorough cleansings. Snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves.

  “Out.”

  “Kiki?” Pulling a pre-prepped surgical tray from the shelf, I set it on the wheely-table next to Walker’s side.

  “Dunno.”

  “I’m really bleeding here, dudes.” Walker started shivering, maybe in shock, but it wasn’t like he’d never been shot before. “Know you hate each other, but what say you bury the hatchet long enough to make sure I live to see another day?”

  “What the hell happened out there?” Storm scrubbed and gloved his own hands then took up a stance across the gurney from me.

  “Asshole here got shot in the ass.” I took the scissors to Walker’s clothes, shearing his jeans from ankles to hips.

  “I’m totally not laughing.” Storm’s shoulders shook.

  “Yeah. Me either.”

  We raised eyebrows at each other, my mouth twitching and Storm chewing down on a growing smirk.

  To say Storm’s and my friendship—not to mention our working relationship—had been rocky since that night so long ago in Egypt was the freaking understatement of the century. We avoided each other as much as possible, went out of our way to piss each other off, and generally hated one another with two years of brewing animosity.

  So whenever we caught ourselves getting along? That never lasted long.

  “You want me to put him under?” Storm asked, hooking bags up to the IV pole.

  “Walker.” I tapped him on the cheek. “You wanna stay awake for this or not? Up to you.”

  “Just dull the edge. I’m good. Don’t want you disfiguring my ass.”

  “Damn. Do you wax or something?” Storm glanced at his bare rear—crusted in iron-colored blood—while I snipped off the rest of Walker’s clothes.

  “Didn’t you fucks get enough talking about my ass in Yemen?” Walker barely flinched when Storm sank the needle into the arm he’d swabbed. “I’m Native American. We’re smooth dudes. Unlike you hairy fucks.”

  “I say knock him out.” Storm rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Walker. Your precious ass is safe from us.”

  “Probably not from Jade though, huh?” Storm outright grinned at Walker’s discomfort.

  “Fuck you and get on with it. I think the bullet’s traveling to my nads.”

  “I think it’s firmly lodged in your left cheek, dude.” I swished Providine all over the skin surrounding the oozing bullet hole, listening to Walker’s muffled hiss.

  “Serves him right. After all that talk at his wedding about shoving dynamite up our asses.” For once, Storm looked to be enjoying himself at Walker’s expense instead of mine.

  He glanced at me, and I nodded. Without a word, we communicated like we used to, and he slowly dripped more morphine into our hurting buddy.

  Just like old times.

  Justice was my right hand dude when it came to patching up, stitching lacerations, sometimes even bringing people back to life—Walker’s wife Jade, and that night in Beirut, case in point.

  But Storm used to lend a willing, and adept, hand.

  That had been before . . .

  The two of us were probably a Jerry Springer episode waiting to air live. Or Doc Phil. Or whoever the latest TV head-talker/trainwreck mastermind was these days.

  I held out my hand, and Storm handed me the 10 blade.

  Making the incision, I watched Walker’s eyelids peel wide before they drooped. Then I turned my attention to locating the bullet bored into his ass with the least amount of intrusion possible.

  “Los Reyes de Guerra muchachos didn’t like the new terms we presented for the AKs.�
�� I passed the scalpel back to Storm, and he slid the forceps to me without being asked.

  Like well-oiled machinery, he packed the oozing hole with gauze to soak up the worst of the blood.

  “And?” Storm reached overhead and adjusted the light to shine exactly where I needed.

  “Then Walker started getting lippy with jefe.” Gently probing deep into Walker’s gluteous medius, I gripped the bullet.

  But shit was slippery.

  “Suct—”

  Before I finished the word, Storm vacuumed up the seeping blood with the aspirator.

  “Walker talked back to Carlos? The self-proclaimed killer? You tell him about the Uzis?” With a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled the instrument away from the field of surgery.

  “Was saving the best for last. Didn’t get the chance before they opened fire. Big mouth here”—closing my eyes, I concentrated on easing the bullet out—“just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “I’m still copacetic,” Walker slurred.

  “Can fix that in a second.” Storm hit the plunger again.

  “Shit. Liked it better when the two of you weren’t working together.” Walker’s body relaxed completely, but his eye—the one I could see—still blinked slowly.

  “What are you? A fucking horse? How are you still talking?” Disbelief crossed Storm’s features.

  “Raise horses. In Wyoming. Where’s Jade? She here?”

  “Oh yeah.” I chuckled. “He’s feeling it.”

  With one quick move, I tugged the slug free and pinged it into the dish Storm held out for me.

  “Ouch.” Walker half-heartedly complained.

  “Shut up. Just saved your ass. Literally.”

  “There, there, brah. Donut cushion for you for a couple days,” Storm drawled out. Then his glance slid to me. “You sure you weren’t the one who pulled the trigger on Walker? You have a habit, y’know?”

  Dickbrains. Typical Storm. Getting a dig in anytime he could.

  I ignored the cunt, clanking my teeth together.

  Despite his jab, he continued to assist me, anticipating my every need. Like old days, to save a life or to get out of trouble.

  Suturing up the ragged hole with neat rows, we worked quickly, in tandem, trading off-color jokes about Walker’s wounded ass while he muttered and swore and fought against the drugs and pain to stay awake just because he was such a stubborn bastard.