Enigma: Prologue to Live Wire

by Lora Leigh

  Her lips parted for him, her little pink tongue peeking out to lick over the engorged, flushed head of his cock as rapid-fire electrical impulses began to attack his nerve endings.

  Clenching his teeth, he couldn’t hold back the groan that rumbled in his chest. It was so fucking good. Her tongue was a lash of pure ecstasy on the head of his dick, the aching throb of pleasure sending waves of sensation through his balls and then across the rest of his flesh.

  His fingers clenched her hair as his thighs tightened. He swore he could feel his come building in his balls, threatening to erupt.

  Holding the base tight, he rubbed the head against her tongue, her lips. Watching as her eyes met his, as the engorged flesh of his cock caressed paradise.

  He wanted to sink inside. To feel her hot mouth closing over the super sensitive head of his dick and sucking it in. The anticipation of it was killing him.

  “Suck it,” he ordered roughly. “Let me in that hot little mouth, baby. Let me fuck it like I’ve dreamed of for ten damned years.”

  Ten fucking years. It was too late to wait for this. Too long to wait to feel her lips closing over the head of his cock, sucking him into ecstasy.

  Her lips parted.

  Jordan didn’t wait for her to take him. Her lips parting was permission enough.

  Holding firm to her hair, he watched instead as he pushed inside, then shuddered as a wave of heat tore through as he watched her suck him inside.

  Sweet, pink lips were stretched, reddened. Those brilliant emerald eyes fluttered, closed as pleasure suffused her face. Her hands smoothed down his flanks before moving up, one hand moving between his thighs, her fingers finding the taut, responsive sac of his balls and cupping it with silken hands.

  This was paradise.

  Ah hell, he was going to lose himself in her and he could feel it. The threat of it was there. The threat of losing every promise he had made to himself over the years had the potential to destroy him.

  “Fuck yes!” he hissed out as she began to move, her mouth caressing the engorged crest as she began a firm, erotic suckling of her mouth that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out against for long. “Suck my dick, baby. Sweet, hot fucking mouth…”

  His thighs burned they were clenched so tight as her hungry mouth began to work over his cock. Her tongue lashed against the underside of the head, rubbed. The suckling pressure eased, then tightened.

  Flames of hair swayed down her back, over her shoulders, caressing his thighs. Her hands were never still. One caressed his balls, the other clenched at his thigh, her fingertips rubbing against it ever so often. Her cheeks hollowed as she caressed the throbbing cock head in her mouth, working it with delicate greed as a moan whispered over the aching crest.

  Hell, he couldn’t hold out long. He wanted to fuck her too badly. The need to spill inside her was building in his balls, burning through his body.

  “Fuck,” he snarled in desperation. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to lose his hold on the sight and the feel of her holding to him as his hips moved, his cock thrusting against her swollen lips.

  The sensual, completely absorbed look on her face ratcheted the pleasure racing through him. He could feel his entire body tightening to the breaking point, every muscle, every cell was attuned to each draw of her mouth, each flick of her tongue, each incredible stroke of her silken fingers against his balls.

  Clenching his hands tighter in her hair, he fought to hold back his release, fought to hold back the groan building in his chest.

  She was killing him.

  Watching her, seeing the fantasy that had haunted his life since the day he had first seen her in Aruba eight fucking years ago, was wearing away every objection he had used over the years to remain distant from her.

  “Tehya,” he couldn’t hold back the groan. “Ah, God baby.”

  Hell, he swore he could feel his knees weakening.

  His hips jerked against her as he fought to keep his strokes shallow, to keep from hurting her. Damn, it was hard. He needed to be further inside her. He needed to be surrounded by her.

  But pulling back from the sweet pleasure of her hungry mouth was impossible, not simply because she refused to release him, but because he couldn’t make himself pull back.

  Her mouth tightened on his cock as he felt the blood pounding harder through the shaft. His balls were agonized, the shaft flexing, release was only seconds away.

  “Tey,” he said desperately. “I’m going to come, baby. Move that sweet mouth or I’m going to fill it.”

  She moaned, a hungry, greedy sound that lit a fire to a sensual fuse that exploded through him, with the power to weaken his knees and almost take him to the floor.

  His hands tightened further in her hair. He had to be pulling the strands and couldn’t pull back. The surge of sensation racing through his cock, exploding through the head and spurting from it, rocked him to his soul.

  He’d never come so hard. Six years of waiting, fantasizing, and his mind was exploding with his release.

  And still, it wasn’t enough.

  He was still hard, the pleasure tearing through him was like a narcotic, an addiction, and he wanted more.

  Somehow, he found the strength to pull her head back, watching as his cock slid from her reddened lips, as those amazing green eyes opened to stare back at him in dazed pleasure as her tongue ran over her lips, the pleasure apparent in her face.

  “Lie down.” He raked his eyes over the gentle lines of her body. The scattering of freckles across her nose was duplicated in a small area across the tops of her shoulders. Just the lightest hint of them beneath the skin, intriguing him, tempting him to investigate the satiny flesh.

  She lay back, her breasts rising and falling quickly, her face flushed, her soft flesh sweat-dampened.

  “Spread your legs.” He could barely force the words out.

  Tehya stared up at him, watching the wild blue of his eyes, darker, gleaming brighter than she had ever seen them.

  “Beautiful.” The sound of his voice was thicker, harsher, as he came to his knees before her spread thighs. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?”

  She shook her head. She had never seen herself as beautiful. She had never believed she was beautiful. But at this moment, she felt, at the very least, pretty in his eyes. When he stared at her as though he were starving for the taste of her, his cock thick and hard, flushed, the head dark and throbbing as he came to his knees between her thighs.

  “How pretty,” he murmured, reaching out to run his fingers over the bare folds of flesh.

  For a second, nerves edged at the arousal that had her dazed, almost uncomprehending.

  She could see his absorption with the fact that there were no curls there, that her skin was softer, smoother than it would have been if she waxed or shaved.

  Naturally bare. She had been bred to have no pubic hair. Her father had known the child he wanted, and he had chosen the perfect woman to conceive that child. And one of his requirements had been a woman whose genetics lacked the gene for pubic hair.

  The thought, the memory of that past, threatened the pleasure wrapping around her.

  Then his fingers parted the folds, slid against the entrance, and two pressed inside her.

  Immediately her hips jerked, sensation slamming through her womb, her clit, rocking through her system with an overload of pleasure.

  “So ready for me,” he said hoarsely as he came over her, his fingers sliding free as he gripped his cock and tucked the engorged crest against the entrance.

  “Jordan.” She could feel him, thick and heavy, prepared to penetrate as her lashes fluttered in pleasure.

  “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s okay.”

  He pressed tighter.

  So many years of waiting. So many years that she had felt teased out of her mind, desperate to have him touch her, hold her, and it was finally happening.

  Her hands lifted, her fingers gripping his hard biceps as he
began to enter her, stretching her, burning her.

  Her nails dug into his arms, her hips lifting, lowering, working his flesh deeper inside her as her gaze locked with his.

  “Perfect,” he whispered. “That’s it sweetheart. Fuck me.”

  Tehya shook her head as she felt her juices gather and gush at the eroticism of the command, the sound of his voice, so rich and husky.

  Surging closer, she gasped, bit her lip. He was so thick, so hard, the shaft was almost bruising as it impaled her, separating her intimate flesh and forging inside each time she thrust upward.

  Her thighs spread wider, each sensation merging into the one before it, building, coalescing into such sharp, fragmented shards of sensation, that by the time he took control of her and forged into the hilt, she was crying out in pleasure.

  “Look, Tey.” His gaze sliced from hers as he glanced down her body, pulling hers to that point where they met.

  The swollen folds of her pussy were parted, glistening with wetness, cupping, enfolding the base of the hard shaft penetrating her.

  The sight of it had a punch of pleasure tearing through her womb, jerking her hips tighter against his, lodging his cock harder inside her, the head rubbing against the over-stretched depths of her vagina.

  As she watched, he pulled back, revealing the glistening shaft, pulling out until only the thickened crest remained before pushing inside her, slowly, deeply. The flared head stroked over ultra sensitive nerve endings, rasped against excited flesh and sent a flood of sensations racing through her bloodstream.

  As though that thrust were a breaking point, Jordan gave a harsh groan before pulling her to him, his lips covering hers as his hips began to move with a smooth, steady rhythm.

  Tehya fought to hold onto him, to meet each stroke as pleasure seared her senses and flamed through every cell of her body.

  Electric heat sizzled through her, fingers of it raking from her womb to her clit, her nipples. Her body was screaming for release, each thrust of his cock rasping through her pussy, caressing the sensitive flesh with rapid-fire strokes.

  Her gaze locked with his, mesmerized with the brilliancy of the blue, held in thrall with the hunger and the need reflected in them.

  A hunger and need that tore through her, that rose with each thrust, with each forceful entry, into the clenching flesh surrounding him.

  “Tehya.” Her name seemed torn from his lips as her legs wrapped around his hips, her nails digging into his arms. “God yes, baby. Fuck me.”

  His voice was harsher, thicker.

  Tehya felt the waves of sensation gathering in her womb. The clenching tightness that echoed to her pussy, spasmed through it. Her clit swelled, tightened.

  She could feel his cock, thicker, harder than before as each thrust began to tighten, shorten.

  Sensation began to burn in her clit, her pussy. Her breaths became moans, rising with each shocking burst of pleasure as she felt the pleasure tightening inside her, burning, flaming out of control, until it suddenly exploded like fireworks gone wild.

  His name became a wailing moan. As her hips arched, she felt her pussy tightening, clenching on his thrusting cock a second before the world melted around her.

  Ecstasy began to thunder through her. A storm of sensation exploded through her in rapturous bursts, arching her body, shuddering through it as she felt Jordan thrust in hard, deep. He jerked her against him, his hard, muscular body rippling with pleasure as he began spilling inside her.

  Spurting deep and hot, his release swept through her senses as her own seared her nerve endings and left her gasping at the intensity of her own orgasm.

  She didn’t know if she was breathing. She didn’t care if the world itself rained down upon them. Nothing mattered but this pleasure and the white hot mix of sensation and emotion rising through her.

  Emotion.

  She had sworn she would never love, but she knew, six years before, that was a promise she would end up breaking.

  She loved Jordan Malone.

  He’d just destroyed both of them.

  Jordan stared at the ceiling above him as he held Tehya in his arms and knew he had made a huge mistake.

  He’d fought this for six years. Fought it and swore he’d never give into it, because he knew it had no future. That he had no future with her.

  Tehya had that love of danger, the addiction to the adrenaline rush, the same as he had. He’d seen it in her far too many times.

  She wouldn’t let it go. She would find trouble if she stayed with him. They would tempt each other, dare each other, and eventually, he feared, find trouble that would end up getting them both killed.

  And even if he was wrong, even if she was the home-and-hearth type, there was always the risk that his enemies, those made before his time in the Elite Ops, would find him. And when they found him, they would find his weakness.

  Tehya.

  “Nothing to say?” she whispered from where she lay against him, obviously awake.

  When he said nothing, she moved.

  Rolling from his side, she rose from the bed, and moving slowly, wearily, collected her gown from the floor and pulled it over her head.

  Wiping his hand over his face, Jordan rose himself, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched her broodingly. Son of a bitch, this was one of the reasons he hadn’t taken her to his bed. Tehya wasn’t a one night stand, and he had known it.

  And hurting Tehya was something he had tried desperately not to do.

  Something he had known from the beginning that he had no choice in.

  Tehya promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She fought back the tears but she couldn’t fight back the pain clenching her chest and throbbing through her heart.

  She had always assumed a broken heart was more figurative than literal, but she could feel it ripping in half beneath her flesh. Even her bones ached, her ribs felt too tight, under pressure, as though the emotions tearing at her heart were going to burst from her skin as well.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Those eyes. That brilliant, almost neon blue stared back at her somberly.

  Irish Eyes, her friend Sabella Blake had told her once. Jordan had Irish Eyes. Any woman lucky enough to steal his love would have a true window into his soul. Sabella had told her how she had once ‘seen’ the horror of her husband’s torture when he was kidnapped by a drug cartel owner, Diego Fuentes. That she had felt his pain, dreamed of his screams.

  Tehya had always wondered what such love would feel like. She had fantasized about possessing this man’s love. A fantasy. That was all it was.

  “I have to finish packing.” She heard the hoarseness of her voice and knew she wasn’t hiding her emotions as well as she had hoped to.

  “Tehya, I don’t want to lose your friendship either, not because of this,” he said as he pushed his legs into his jeans then rose and pulled them over his muscled legs.

  “Are we friends, Jordan? Were we ever?” She had never felt friendship from him.

  She couldn’t define exactly what she had felt from him over the years. She knew her own emotions had been in conflict more than once, but friendship had never been the definition she would have put on their relationship.

  “I hoped we were.” That edge of regret in his voice tore at her.

  She could almost feel the pity coming, and she really didn’t want to have to shoot him. If he dared to feel sorry for her, then that would be the least of the problems he would have.

  Giving her head a quick shake she turned and walked from the bedroom. She couldn’t handle this tonight. She couldn’t stand here and discuss friendships, see the pity on his face, or face the realization that six years of dreams had been wasted effort.

  Six years. God, it had been so long. It had been too damned long. Suddenly, she felt far older than she actually was, and far too tired to fight with herself any longer.

  “Tehya?” Jordan followed, standing in the bedroom doorway as she moved to the stack of empty boxes an
d protective paper stacked next to the shelves she hadn’t yet packed.

  Each of the trinkets had been collected over the years. The pocket dragons. There were fairies, there were expensive little keepsake boxes. And there were pictures. Pictures of the team she had worked with, their wives. In a few there were children of those men. In a few, there was an unsmiling Jordan. In one, he stood next to Tehya, one arm around her shoulders as they stared back at the camera.

  This was the past six years of her life.

  She picked up the picture of her and Jordan first, wrapped it, packed it.

  “Why do you think I haven’t taken you to my bed before now?” he asked from the bedroom doorway.

  “Why don’t you leave, Jordan?” She didn’t look at him, she couldn’t.

  She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream, and she wasn’t about to do it while he was standing there watching her as though waiting for her to break apart.

  Before she knew he had moved he was next to her, his hands gripping her upper arms as he jerked her around.

  She saw the anger then. His eyes were bright with it, the blue snapping down at her as his expression tightened with it.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you!”

  “And you haven’t.” She wasn’t backing down from him but she would be damned if she would cry for him.

  He hadn’t done this to her, he hadn’t asked her for what she felt and how many times had he pushed her away, done everything but told her that it couldn’t happen?

  It had been her own stubbornness, her own stupidity that had led her here. She had known better. At least she should have known better.

  Sex wasn’t love, and she could see now what he had tried to save her from.

  Yet the anger was there inside her as well. A feminine fury she couldn’t escape.

  “Tehya, we’re friends,” he ground out furiously. “If you ever need me…”

  “I didn’t need you before I came here, and I won’t need you after I leave.” Jerking away from him, she stalked to the far side of the room and faced him where the sheer power of his presence would hopefully be diluted.