Wings of Gold Series

by Tappan, Tracy

  “Damn.” He pushed up on straight arms. “Damn, damn, damn,” he hissed from above her. “I’m going to come, Farrin. Ah, damn, so good. Stop me…stop me if I go too crazy, because…” His tempo increased, his hips plunging fast and hard.

  Her swollen cervix was hyper-sensitive to the butted hits of his penis against it, making it so she felt every thrust deep inside her womb. She hauled breaths in through her mouth, her insides quaking.

  Their flesh slapped together loudly, a wild mating. Sweat fell off him onto her, mixing with the perspiration misting the valley between her breasts and shimmering on her nipples.

  She reached for his thighs. Her hands slipped off. Was he okay? With his chin tucked down and his eyes screwed shut, he looked like he was in pain.

  A hoarse, bitten-off shout escaped him, and then he threw his head back, his teeth clenched so hard—to silence himself, she’d guess—that corded lines ran from his jaw down the length of his exposed neck. His hips canted forward and stuck to her as he shoved into her as deep as he could go. He froze there, his pelvis shuddering against her. A guttural groan rumbled out of him, a noise of such pure, unadulterated ecstasy that hearing it—knowing she’d inspired it—made her blow apart again. This time her convulsions clutched at the length of his sex.

  He barked a shout, bucked and jerked, then grabbed for breath and dropped down on top of her.

  She only had a couple of seconds to enjoy a feeling of unexpected female pride—look at her, able to give a man such intense, healthy pleasure!—before he lifted off her.

  Her joy and pleasure began to evaporate. She wasn’t ready for him to leave her.

  But he didn’t leave. He merely reached between their bodies, holding onto the rim of the condom to keep it in place while he withdrew, then angled sideways a bit to get it off. He sank back on top of her, snuggling his face against her throat. A huge sigh blasted her skin. “I guess I needed a pillow too.” He chuckled breathlessly. “Wow.”

  She smiled at the ceiling, languidly gazing at the dozen birthmark-like knotholes marring the blond wood. So this is true intimacy.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  With a groan, Jason finally managed to hoist himself off Farrin. He didn’t want to, but in the Pakistani heat, he was probably cooking her by lazing around on top of her body, enjoying her awesome softness. Sweat had pooled between them. He didn’t mind, but women usually did care about such things.

  He kissed the tip of her nose, rolled off, and stretched languidly, his always-sore spine zinging him. He discreetly collected the used condom he’d left on the sheets, then combat-crawled on his belly over to the edge of the bed and tossed it in the trash. He’d have to cover up the glaring piece of evidence with other trash at some point, hide from the CO what had gone down in his bed while he was off post. A chore for later…for now, replete, satisfied, drained, Jason rested on the mattress where he’d stopped, his legs partially sticking off the end of the bed, and vented a huge sigh. Just going to rest for a…

  He startled when Farrin’s fingers fluttered across his back.

  “What am I drawing?” she asked him.

  He blinked groggily a couple of times. Hell, he’d dozed off. “Um…I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. I’ll draw it again.”

  He paid attention, then curved his lips into a smile. “A happy face.”

  She kissed the back of his neck. “And do you know why I’m drawing a happy face?”

  He widened his smile. “I could come up with about a dozen arrogant answers.”

  “They’d all be correct.” Her palm cupped his butt cheek.

  He came all the way awake, his balls especially going Hey! as they remembered how she’d touched him before when she’d messed with his ass. Balls talked to dick, dick conveyed to brain through a series of pulses that it was very interested in round two. Brain was gung ho, too.

  “That was my first ever orgasm,” she nicely told him.

  He rotated onto his side and looked at her. She was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, a very Buddha-beautiful display of her breasts and curls. His balls hammered a repeat request at him. Did her compliment mean she was up for more, too…?

  “I’d love to do it again,” the clairvoyant woman said. “Too bad we don’t have more time.”

  He raised both brows. “You have someplace else you need to be tonight?”

  “You…?” The words stumbled out of her. “You can make love more than once in the same night?”

  How arrogant should he get with this answer? I’m not a wrinkly creepy fuck, so yes. He threw that one away. “Twice, definitely. Three times, if I’d been eating right this last week.” Four times…well, he hadn’t pulled that off since his twenties. Although he could imagine revving up for action any time Farrin got on all fours for him and—his dick did its up periscope! impression, and he hissed a soft breath. Man, just from picturing it.

  She gawked at his boner. “I didn’t even touch you.”

  “I was thinking about you in a certain way.”

  Interest lighted her eyes. “What way?”

  “Er…”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re not ready for it.”

  “I want to give you what you enjoy, too, Jason.” When he still hesitated, she shoved at his shoulder. “Come on, let’s hear it.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, I’ve been working on a little fantasy about taking you from behind.”

  “Oh?” She mulled that over, but then her eyebrows gradually began to draw together and her eyes to blink rapidly, and—

  Ah, hell. “Not in the behind,” he jumped to clarify. “I mean in your…uh…” Okay. He couldn’t keep saying the word vagina. He wore the dual designation of a trident and a set of wings—there had to be some kind of rule. “…in the normal place, just with you on your hands and knees.” His dick bumped against his lower belly. Yeah, yeah, pipe down! We’re not doing this. We really, really want to do this, but, you know, we shouldn’t. Should we?

  Her expression cleared. “Ah.” Peering at him through her lashes, she toyed with a few strands of his chest hair. “Why is that your fantasy?”

  “I love your ass.”

  She looked him directly in the eyes.

  Yep, simple.

  “Isn’t my behind sort of on the big side?”

  “Nope.”

  She made a hmm sound. “I thought my breasts were my better feature.”

  “Love those, too. Didn’t I aptly demonstrate that?”

  A lovely shade of pink dusted her cheeks. “Why aren’t I ready to be on my hands-and-knees?”

  “The position is…um…I don’t know…”

  “Savage?”

  He laughed. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘impersonal.’”

  She pshawed. “That’s impossible with you.” Her lingering smile was sweet, but this time also tinted with—he clamped his jaw against a throb of pain in his hardened flesh—naughty girl.

  Really, really want to do this, but… There was also the lack of rubbers to consider. “I don’t think we have…” The sentence was interrupted by a heated, back-and-forth debate going on between his boner and his rational mind. His rational mind won, barely, and the dreaded question got asked, “Do we have any more condoms?”

  “Not any that I know of.” Her eyebrows magnetized toward each other the way they did when she was thinking. “Can you just pull out when you climax?”

  Astonishment. Utter. Complete. Did it show? Probably. He felt his mouth drooping open. The idea of sexually transmitted diseases didn’t bother him. He didn’t have any, and he’d bet his right nut Farrin didn’t either. But as birth control went, the ol’ “pull and pray” method was very unreliable. And in spite of all the ways Farrin was unschooled in sex, he was positive she knew this. “Um, you being a doctor and all, I’m assuming you know how risky that is.”

  She waved airily. “If you’re worried about it, then we don’t have—”

  �
�No, I’m not.” Hold up. Who was talking here: Boner or Rational Mind? Because if Rational Mind was still calling the shots, then shouldn’t he be worried? About an accidental pregnancy…and maybe the idea that Farrin was possibly trying to trap him? He immediately stamped out that second one. No way. Was he trying to trap himself, then? Suuuure, if Hell was experiencing a low pressure system right now. ’Course…

  This was Farrin, so…damn, maybe.

  “Okay. I’m fine with it, too.” She climbed onto all fours and presented herself to him.

  The sight smoke-checked Rational Mind out of the decision-making process with a solid right cross. Boner took full charge, and Jason was up on his knees so fast, the room spun. Setting a palm on Farrin’s lower back, he moved up right behind her, nostrils flared, his heated eyes pinned on the prize. So furry and womanly… A growl erupted from his throat. She might’ve been onto something about the savage part. Because if he accidentally impregnated her, he could only imagine thumping a fist to his chest and howling in fierce male satisfaction. Christ, frost was forming on the windows of hell.

  All other thoughts got stuffed by Boner. Action. That’s all he wanted. Smoothing his hands over the plentiful bounty of Farrin’s ass, he angled his hips up, rubbing his dick along the crease of her bottom. His steely head popped up top, then he dragged back down and straightened himself out, nudging just inside her opening. His balls crowded up against his body when he saw her lips ripple once around the top of his dick, then grab on tight. He panted out two hard breaths. Damn him if he wasn’t going to come right away doing this.

  Being a voyeur to one’s own self was hot, for one. For two, eighteen years of sexual deprivation had left Farrin’s passage an extremely snug fit. Third, he’d never experienced glove-free screwing before. Never, ever, even though he’d only ever engaged in sex with monogamous partners. He’d just never trusted any of those other women enough to put the health of his dick fully in their care.

  But with Farrin, so genuine smelling and honest and real, he had those strong threads of connection, and as he slid inside her, a silky, slick ride, he shuddered all over. Fourth, he’d never been inside a woman he cared about this deeply.

  Hooking his fingers around her hipbones, he jacked her closer, even pulling her off her knees a bit, and plunged all the way to the hilt. His first sample of her soft-feeling butt rammed up against his hips was tremendous, and he groaned from deep inside his chest. Trouble, trouble, trouble—this was going to be better than he imagined.

  Her inner muscles quivered around him, and she gasped.

  “I generally go deeper in this position,” he said hoarsely. “Okay?”

  “Very.”

  Good. So, so very good. He flattened a palm on her lower back, a quick reassuring touch, before he grabbed her hips again and set to work on her. Teeth gritted, ass muscles straining, he drove into her, again and again. The curtain of her hair swung, her breasts bounced, she moaned in pleasure, but only the peripheral part of his brain registered these. His main focus was latched onto where they were joined. Good God, he couldn’t believe the suctioning power of this woman. His dick pumped spastically a couple of times, probably dangerously leaking pre-ejaculatory juice inside her. He kept going. Boner was firmly in charge, and he couldn’t even tell if Rational Mind gave a shit.

  His breath sawed in and out of his chest. A relentless tug pulled from deep under his anus—his prostate doing a happy jig. Going to come. Soon. Leaning over, he reached around to Farrin’s front and slipped a finger through her pubic hair. Finding her clit, he massaged it steadily, all the while pumping his hips.

  She snatched her pillow, dragged it over, and buried her face in it. Her sheath gripped him so violently through her orgasm, his vision sparked along the edges. Grunting, he flopped all the way over onto her spine, his lips going slack against her flesh. “Oh, Jesus…”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jason figured the guy who’d made up the saying, a watched clock never moves, knew exactly what the hell he was talking about, although the guy neglected to expound on a few situational aspects that could heighten the phenomenon. Like: put two people who’d had sex the night before at a table together in the morning, sipping coffee, not talking at all while they waited for a helicopter to arrive and take one of them away, and time actually came to a complete and torturous standstill.

  Or maybe, ironically, it was the opposite. The hands of time spun wildly, like on the face of a clock at the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, inexorably hustling all the involved participants toward the inevitable good-bye. A guillotine to meet, absolutely, and if ever there was a time in Jason’s life when he needed a numb-out cushion-room in his brain to help him deal, it was now.

  But his trusty hiding place was failing him, overtaxed with all the shit he needed to screen out from last night’s sexual escapade. Yeah, escapade…that’s what sex with Farrin was supposed to have been. Fun screwing. An awesome tension-reliever. A release that, granted, he’d known would be more than the usual pleasant. But not this. This…link between them that he could now never undo, like the physical had somehow cemented his deep feelings for her, the threads between them strengthened to unbreakable nylon. Which was fan-fucking-just-great.

  Because Farrin was leaving.

  What she thought about her imminent departure, he couldn’t tell. She seemed content enough, sitting here in the outpost kitchen in her oversized military clothes, absently contemplating the wall across the room, her bag—her damned, piece of shit, fucking bag—at her feet.

  He, personally, was in a low-broiling panic, a whole lot of nothing coming out of his mouth, when there was so much he should have been saying.

  If I got you pregnant, will you have the baby? I’d like you to, and I’d like to be a part of it because… Actually, will you marry me? I’ll get you pregnant for sure, then, and we’ll make a family together, and… Why? I just so happen to be off my cork in love with you, that’s why. At Usman and Afia’s I thought I was falling in love with you, but now I know. I really do know.

  None of those sentences—not even a babbling partial mashup of some—made their way into the silence. Every time he tried to configure something reasonably intelligible, his tongue just ended up moving around inside his mouth, like he’d find the necessary words hiding among his teeth.

  “Good morning, sir.” The one remaining SEAL sauntered into the kitchen, outfitted in the same clothes as Jason’s borrowed kit. He nodded at Jason, but held off on tossing out any appreciative winks. Nice of the guy, considering he had to know Jason didn’t sleep in the CHU last night.

  “Ma’am.” The SEAL nodded at Farrin, too.

  “Good morning,” she responded. Her smile was pleasant.

  Maybe only Jason felt awkward.

  The SEAL poured himself some coffee and took a slug. “This is good, sir.”

  “Thanks.” Jason made it strong enough to peel the top layer of flesh off a person’s intestines: the Navy way.

  “Ma’am, you can head out to the airfield now.” The SEAL gestured at Farrin with his mug. “Your transport is inbound. One minute.”

  “Okay, thank you.” She rose.

  Jason stood too—and shuffled a sideways step, his balance thrown off a little by a wave of nausea hitting him. Understandable, he supposed, considering he’d just left the majority of his important organs on the chair behind him: liver, lungs, kidneys. Definitely his heart.

  He picked up Farrin’s bag, then placed a hand lightly at the small of her back to escort her out the door. As soon as they exited, he heard the far off whop-whop-whop of rotor blades pummeling the air. He usually loved that noise. Now he hated it. The sound grew louder…

  Dead man walking—toward a guillotine, the electric chair, a lethal injection: whatever implement, Jason was headed toward death to his soul the instant Farrin stepped on board that bird.

  Say something to her.

  He led her through the HESCO barrier gate to the perimeter of the airfield. The helo a
rrived. It flew to a spot over the flat circle of dirt, hovered, rotors kicking up a swirl of dust, then set down.

  Jason’s stomach made little jumpy grabs for his esophagus.

  The side door opened and the aircrewman leapt out. He jogged toward them, holding a passenger helmet.

  This is it. Time’s run out. Say something…

  Farrin turned to him, wind from the rotors whipping a few strands of hair out of her ponytail. Even though she had to raise her voice to be heard over the thumping blades, she still managed to sound intimate. “I lost count of all the ways you saved my life over this past week, Jason. Thank you for that.”

  He stared down at her. His lips were cement, his tongue a brick, his padded brain-room in complete disarray.

  She smiled tenderly. “But thank you especially for last night.” She brushed a hand over his cheek, her gaze hazy with a loving warmth. “You saved me in more ways than you’ll never know.”

  Pain needled his tear ducts as he envisioned her last night in the moment after her very first orgasm, her eyes smoldering with awe, the dark tips of her breasts hard, her curls damp, her ribs pumping.

  Okay, all crazy talk aside, will you be my girlfriend? I don’t care that the relationship will be long distance. I need you in my life any way I can get you.

  Nothing. Not a peep. The memory of her raw beauty was clutching an agonized lump around his windpipe.

  The aircrewman came up to them, snapped off a salute to Jason, then addressed Farrin. “Dr. Barr?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re ready to transport you, ma’am.” He helped her get the helmet on.

  Jason watched, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Good-bye. He couldn’t even find that one word hiding among his teeth.

  “You’re all set, ma’am. Follow me.” The aircrewman and Farrin took off for the aircraft.

  Jason inhaled a painful breath, razor blades in his lungs.

  Farrin cast a glance over her shoulder at him. You’re really not going to say anything to me?