The Muscle Part Three

by Michelle St. James

  They were the magic words, and he fought against his own desire to raise himself over her body and bury himself to the hilt inside her, to fuck her like an animal until neither of them remembered anything but the feel of their bodies moving in unison, the release of her exploding around him as he poured his come into her.

  He covered her clit with his mouth, lapping at everything — the little nub, her swollen lips, the secret crease at her center that promised him paradise — all at once as he plunged his fingers inside her, pressing against her G-spot until her hips rose off the floor, tightening as she clenched around him, shuddering against his mouth and fingers as the contractions wracked her body in a series of waves, never ending swells that just kept breaking and breaking until she finally lay back, letting her body go limp, her hands still in his hair.

  But he was just getting started.

  He moved over her body and leaned down to kiss her. He wanted to remind her that he was there. That this was them, and everything they did together was beautiful.

  Then he flipped her onto her stomach and raised her ass in the air, spreading her thighs apart so he could see every contour of her dripping pussy, slick and waiting for his cock.

  He rubbed the perfect mound of her ass, then gave a little swat to the lips exposed between her thighs. She yipped a little, and just when he was about to ask if it hurt, she spread her thighs farther apart and pressed back toward him. The motion told him all he needed to know.

  He leaned his face down by her ass and licked the dripping juices from her pussy. She moaned, then leaned back even further. He positioned himself at her entrance, almost shaking with his need for her. The combination of her demand for him — somehow sexier for all her inexperience — and her willingness to take everything he was dishing out made his cock throb, almost painful with pent up desire.

  “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, Isabel,” he said. “I’m going to make you forget about everything but my cock inside you.”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Make me forget.”

  He rubbed his thick tip against her entrance, letting his shaft slide along the dewy petals. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he grabbed ahold of her hips and pulled her back toward him at the same time he drove into her, burying himself as far inside her as her tightness would allow.

  She cried out, and he stayed in position a few seconds, let her stretch to accommodate him as he sunk another quarter inch inside her. The feel of her pussy opening for him was heaven. She was tight — so tight he could feel her walls clenching around him every time he moved — but she was also blooming around his cock, opening up, welcoming him deeper.

  When he was so far inside her his balls were tight against her ass, he pulled out slowly, letting her feel every inch of him on the way out, stopping when just his tip was inside her before plunging into her hard and fast again. He growled, then dragged his cock out of her and thrust inside her again, establishing a rhythm that she matched by leaning into his thrusts, pushing her ass against him, making sure he occupied every inch of her.

  He arched around her body, took hold of her lush breasts and squeezed. “Play with your clit, honey,” he said. “We’ll make you come together.”

  She didn’t hesitate before reaching between her legs, and he felt a new rush of heat around his cock as she stroked herself. He pumped her hard, pinching her nipples between his fingers as he drove into her again and again, harder and faster until they were both in a frenzy, Isabel’s long hair streaming down her sweat-slicked back as she coaxed herself to orgasm.

  She was close, clenching down on him hard, little gasps emerging from her mouth each time he drove into her.

  “You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you, baby?” he asked, pulling her back by her hips until he was buried to the balls, his head slammed against her cervix.

  “Yes!” she gasped. He knew she was stroking herself, and the image of it, the idea of watching her stroke the warmth between her thighs, tease the little seed of her clit, sent a fresh wave of desire whipping through his body. “Come with me,” she said. “I want you to spill it inside me.”

  The words, combined with the pounding of their bodies, the frenzied motion of heir abandon, sent him over the edge and he grabbed her hips tight as he released his semen into her in a hot spurt of ecstasy, the light behind his eyes blinding him to everything but sensation — the heat of her enveloping him, gripping him like a vice while her body shuddered around him, wrapping him in a heat that was so unbearable it was pain made pleasure.

  They rode the waves of their orgasm together, him thrusting into her while she slammed back against his cock, milking him of every drop until he was empty of everything but her.

  10

  “This is the one I’m talking about,” Luca said, turning his computer around and pointing to the screen. “Seaboard. Two weeks.”

  They were in the media room later that night, going over the spread sheets that Luca had revisited in an attempt to figure out the time and place of Diego’s traitorous shipment. She and Luca had lain on the studio floor for a long time after they made love, Luca stroking her hair, saying nothing. She had been glad. She didn’t want to talk anymore about Sofia or Diego — not unless it was going to take them closer to saving her sister. Talk was just that — talk. It didn’t change anything. They needed action, and every second they spent rehashing how pissed off and scared they were was a second they weren’t trying to find out where Sofia was being kept, or how they could save her.

  She looked at Luca now, big arms folded over his muscled chest, and was surprised to feel desire surge through her blood stream. It had only been a few hours since he’d fucked her into oblivion, but she was finally starting to realize that it didn’t matter.

  She would always want him.

  He’d done exactly the right thing in coming to her. She’d been out of her mind, tearing into the canvases like a rabid animal, trying to exorcise her fear and anger by destroying that which she held most dear. It frightened her to realize that in those moments, she hadn’t been unlike Diego, trying to soothe her pain with destruction.

  But Luca had brought her back to herself, had reminded her who she was with the strength of his arms around her, the power of his body inside hers. She was never more herself than she was with him. Never more uninhibited, less self-conscious. She hadn’t needed his words then. She’d needed his body moving with hers, his mouth on her slippery heat, the orgasms that obliterated the thought of anything else. It was a kind of reset button, and when she’d finally opened her eyes to the studio ceiling, Luca’s hands running through her hair, she’d felt like herself again.

  Elia leaned in while Marco narrowed his eyes. Isabel looked at the list of dates and places with a critical eye, trying to figure out why this one would be different than the others.

  “How do we know that’s the one?” Elia asked, voicing her question.

  Luca leaned back. “We don’t. Not for sure. But this is the only one within the next two weeks, and it’s the only one coming into the Seaboard terminal.”

  Marco lifted an eyebrow. “So?”

  “So all of Diego’s other shipments have come in through the South Miami or Pomtoc terminals. And Seaboard is the terminal Sanchez uses.”

  “If Diego really is pilfering Sanchez’s source, it makes sense that it would come into the same terminal Sanchez has used in the past,” Isabel murmured.

  She didn’t know a ton about the import/export business, but she knew from listening to Diego that only three companies controlled the Port of Miami. The terminal operators had lease agreements with the port, and anything that came into or out of the city did so under the authority of one of them.

  “Exactly.”

  “Still no guarantee,” Elia said.

  Luca nodded. “True. But it’s all we have. We need to get to Diego before Sanchez does.”

  “What if he doesn’t show?” Marco asked. “What if Eduardo or one of his other
flunkies comes to supervise the arrival of the shipment instead?”

  “Then we take Eduardo,” Luca said, his voice threaded with steel. “And we do whatever has to be done to get him to talk.”

  “If Fuentes is undermining Sanchez with this buy, he’s not going to come alone or send one man to oversee the delivery,” Elia said.

  “I know,” Luca said. “Which is why we’re going to need a couple more men — and a lot more guns.”

  The determination in his eyes almost tricked Isabel into believing they had nothing to fear. That they would intercept the shipment, force Diego to hand over Sofia, and all would be well. But she knew Diego. And he wasn’t going to make it easy.

  11

  “How’s it looking?” Luca asked, glancing over Marco’s shoulder.

  It had been a week since the discovery of the incoming shipment, and they’d spent every waking hour of that time planning and stockpiling in preparation. Luca had moments of doubt — what if they were wrong? What if they couldn’t get Diego to cooperate by giving them Sofia’s location? — but he forced himself to keep his head down and get the work done. They couldn’t control the what ifs, and he hadn’t stayed alive this long worrying about them.

  You considered all the possibilities. You planned for them as much as you could. Then you did what needed to be done.

  “I think we’re pretty good,” Marco said, moving some of the packing material off the crate that had arrived that morning.

  Luca scanned the arsenal of semi-automatic weapons and ammo. He’d probably over-supplied in his determination to succeed. Isabel had been better since the night she’d destroyed her paintings — all but the most recent one — but he could see the fear in her tightly coiled shoulders, the way she seemed to carry them too close to her ears. He would do whatever it took to bring back Sofia. They had all the weapons they could carry. Any more would do them no good.

  “Good,” Luca said. “Where’s Elia?”

  “Checking out that contact of his to see if he needs a job.”

  Luca was still working on getting more men for the raid. Diego would come well-equipped, with plenty of manpower on his side. Sofia’s life was hanging in the balance. They couldn’t afford to be outgunned.

  “How well does he know the guy?” Luca asked.

  “Well enough, I guess,” Marco said.

  It wasn’t the answer Luca wanted. He swallowed it anyway. If it had been New York they could have mustered an army, but they were pathetically low on contacts in Miami. They would take what they could get.

  Luca’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his jeans and looked at the display. Someone was buzzing the front gate. He tapped a few keys on the app he had set up on his phone to feed into the security cameras, then stared in shock at the image on the screen.

  “I’ll be right back,” he muttered to Marco.

  He keyed in the command to open the gate while he stalked to the front door. Only a couple seconds passed before he heard the guttural roar of a car engine making its way through the winding drive. It was a black Audi, its windows tinted so dark Luca couldn’t make out the face of the figure in the driver’s seat. But that didn’t matter. He’d seen the face when the intercom had buzzed. He just didn’t quite believe it.

  He folded his arms over his chest as the car came to a stop in the courtyard. A moment later a giant of man stepped from the driver’s side, eyes shielded behind reflective aviators.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Luca demanded.

  Farrell Black flashed him a grin that looked more like a grimace. “Heard you needed help. Didn’t think I was going to let you use the pansy-ass blokes around here, did you?”

  Luca shook his head. “Be careful where you say that. You’re entering the house of one of the biggest pansy-ass drug lords on the coast.”

  He couldn’t stop the smile that rose to his lips as he said it. Diego was dangerous.

  But no one was more dangerous than Farrell Black.

  Luca was on the right side of the equation — Farrell’s side. But he still felt uneasy around the other man. Like a kid brother hoping his older brother wouldn’t stuff him in a locker or give him a beat down. Farrell had a way of making him careful. Of making everyone careful.

  He stepped onto the brick porch, and Luca clapped his back. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Could get ugly. Will get ugly.”

  “Heard there was a little girl involved,” he said. “I don’t like people who fuck with kids.”

  Luca nodded. He had that in common with Nico, although there had always been a lot more gray in Farrell’s honor code.

  “Then I’m happy to have you,” Luca said. “We have an extra room, plenty of food, a shitload of weaponry, and one week to prepare.”

  Farrell stepped through the door of the house, leaving Luca in his wake. “Sounds like my kind of operation.”

  12

  Isabel was making dinner when Luca entered the kitchen with a man that made her stop what she was doing and stare in shock. He was huge — at least a few inches taller than Luca’s already significant height. His biceps strained at the button down he wore over gray slacks that clung to thighs as big as some of the oldest palm tress on the property. But it wasn’t his size that forced her to resist the urge to back up against the kitchen counter.

  It was the look in his eyes.

  He had none of Luca’s warmth, none of the kindness she’d seen lurking under Luca’s tough exterior since that first night when he’d chased her down the beach.

  “Isabel, this is Farrell Black. He’s going to be staying awhile to help with the raid,” Luca said.

  Isabel dried her hands on a dishtowel and extended one of them to the big man occupying her kitchen. He looked at it suspiciously, then took it carefully, holding it like it was a grenade that might explode in his palm.

  “Pleasure.”

  She was surprised by the British accent. And not one of those street tough accents either — a proper British accent that made it clear this was an educated man. Which was doubly weird because of the faint scar that ran along the left side of his face, the close cropped hair that made her think of someone in the military, or maybe even a boxer.

  “Welcome,” she said. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Let me show you to one of the guest rooms.”

  “I don’t want to be any trouble,” he said.

  She was pretty sure Farrell Black had caused a lot of trouble in his life, but she smiled anyway. She knew from experience that people were rarely as simple as they seemed on the outside. When she’d first met Luca, she’d been sure he was nothing but hired muscle — one of the mean, uneducated men Diego surrounded himself with to ensure they would do his bidding. And Luca had thought she was a spoiled rich girl with nothing between her ears. He’d been right about the spoiled part — at least when it came to money — but she liked to think he was at least a little surprised when he got to know her.

  “Keep an eye on those beans, will you, Luca?” she asked.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I will. You sure you don’t want me to take Farrell to his room?”

  She shook her head. This was her house for awhile longer. She wanted to be hospitable and make sure their new guest was comfortable.

  She craned her neck to look at the man who loomed over her. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

  She led him through the living and media rooms, telling him where he could find everything if he needed it. He was mostly silent, and she felt the magnetic pull of his presence at her back. It wasn’t sexual like it had always been with Luca. More like she knew he was there, and she knew nothing bad would happen to her as long as he was.

  They made their way across the palazzo and around the pool, then continued to the back staircase.

  “There’s the big staircase at the front of the house, too,” she said. “But if you’re back here, this one’s a bit closer.”

  She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t say anything. She
was already growing used to his silence.

  They entered the second floor and continued down the hall before turning to the East wing and the set of bedrooms now occupied by Marco and Elia. When she got to the second door, she opened it and stepped into a large room with a private attached bath.

  “You should have everything you need,” she said. “There are clean towels in the bathroom, and the bed always has clean sheets. I hope you’ll make yourself at home.”

  The corners of his lips turned up into something approximating a smile. “Thank you.”

  She nodded. “You’re welcome. And… thank you. For helping us try to get my sister back.”

  “I don’t try. I do.”

  His voice was low and calm, with almost no inflection to accent one word over another. It was a fact. Something she could take to the bank. She suddenly felt even better about their chances of finding Sofia.

  She looked around, realizing he didn’t have a suitcase. “Do you need help with your things?”

  He shook his head. “It’s just one bag in the car. I can handle it.”

  She smiled. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to get settled. Just — ”

  But she was cut off by the sound of something crashing at the far reaches of the property. She froze in the moment Farrell’s eyes met hers, and a split second later they heard the roar of a big engine barreling toward the house.

  Farrell withdrew a weapon from under his jacket. “Stay here.”

  He disappeared into the hall.

  13

  Luca was already at the door, standing behind the frosted glass on either side when Farrell came bounding down the steps.

  “What’s going on?” he barked.