With a brief glance and bowed smile, Lexie said, “Thank you, Dana. I believe we have everything we require.”
Captain Warren’s smoldering expression held Lexie’s gaze, as he added, “Should Rob need assistance, have him call back.”
Dana cheeks flushed. She bit out a, “Yes Sir,” and stalked from the cabin. Before the door closed completely, Lexie yanked the shirttail from Warren’s pants and ripped it open. The few remaining buttons sailed through the air, pinging about. She knelt between his open thighs. Her palm slid over his neck and across his stony pecs, eliciting a rumble inside his chest. It vibrated under her fingertips, until she moved them down over each corded bump of abdominal muscle. The pilot’s hands molded her lush contours from the tops of her rump, up the dip of her waist, and along her spine to her neck where they dove into her long ebony hair.
Before this progressed any farther, Lexie had to know, “Are you screwing the flight attendant?”
His nose wrinkled as though he’d smelled something rotten. “No.”
“You owe me no explanations. She’s a beautiful girl. No one would blame you for it. I just don’t want to be kicked off the flight mid-air.”
Lexie’s chin shot up as he tugged her hair back. Soft lips kissed and unyielding teeth nibbled a trail up her neck to her lobe.
“She’s infatuated. I’m not. Too willowy. Too dramatic. Too young.”
He worked along her jaw until he reached her cheek. With a tilt of her head pressure so lavish bombarded Lexie’s mouth. Allure gave way to carnal hunger and she experienced a kiss more powerful than her first. He ate at her lips like a man starved. His lips warmed hers as he sucked and pulled, opening her mouth to him. The torrid way his tongue massaged hers made her clitoris pulse with want.
Both near suffocation, the kiss broke. In labored pants he said, “I have a thing for women with red soled shoes, red classic cars, curves and fuck me red lips.”
“It’s Russian Red. The lipstick color. But my lower lips are fuck me red.”
With that, she pushed him back into the chair and pulled at the belt around his waist toward her. Small, but deceptively strong she positioned his crotch below her breasts. Crudely, Lexie unfastened his belt and slacks and freed his thick cock from black boxer briefs. Without preamble, she stroked his length and guided the orbed tip into her mouth. When it met with the back of her throat, the captain hissed through clenched teeth. She firmed her lips around him and swallowed several times before sucking him like a lolli until he popped out of her mouth. Halfway down his shaft uniformed color ringed his girth.
“See, Russian Red.”
“I need to see fuck me red, for color comparison.”
Lexie smiled. “I’m not done here.”
She plunged him back into her hot mouth. One fist pumped the base which her lips could not accommodate. Saliva pooled around him as Lexie worked his delicious shaft. The leather screamed under the captain’s grip, when she picked-up tempo. His hips rolled with her. The muscles of his chest and abdomen rippled and a fine sheen of sweat slicked his skin. She strummed her tongue over his slick tip and came away with the salty taste of pre-cum.
Before she could make him explode, Captain Warren plucked her off the floor. She dangled, wrapped in his arms. He braced his forehead on hers. From her vantage point Lexie could see the intricate design of light and dark blue fissures in his eyes.
“You have no idea how much I hate to rush this, but Rob just switched off auto-pilot which means we’re going to hit the storm I was hoping like hell to avoid. I’ll make it up to you later, if you’ll let me.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Been flying since I could walk. Amazingly, I felt the plane shift, even with your hot mouth on me.”
Lexie couldn’t hold back a whine of disappointment. She’d never begged a man for anything and should turn red from embarrassment at the unchecked display. Need made her weak. If he’d just let her go, she’d be back on her knees in a flash. She’d plead, grovel. Whatever it took to have him.
The notion perplexed Lexie’s higher intelligence. Having only met the man. Wait. They hadn’t even been formally introduced. All she knew of him was a last name and the want of him. Unknowing the reason, but driven by some deeper instinct, Lexie was drawn to him as she had never been by anything other than medicine. His crooked smile and easygoing personality appealed to her new carefree attitude. Those piercing eyes and exquisite body ignited her sexuality. But the intensity of his passion claimed her. So, foolish or not, she would beg.
A smile brightened his face and he whispered, “I’m not done here.”
He whirled her around to face her chair. His hands ran up her arms, and he placed her hands on the seat’s back. He pushed her knees with his own into the seat of the chair. Hot kisses showered her neck while his hands slid under her shirt. He hefted her breasts, caressing them and molding them with his touch. Her skin scorched in their wake. With a flick the front clasp of her bra gave way. When he pinched her nipples the sensation had her arching. His lips were hot on her cheek. His dick nestled into the groove of her ass and elicited a moan from them both. Lexie rocked her hips, rubbing his cock against her covered sex. With each roll, the V of her thong pulled more tightly chafing her clit.
While teasing her nipples with one hand, the captain’s other rushed to the hem of the pencil skirt. He tugged at the material, but only gained an inch. Moving his hand to the back side he pulled again, gaining no skin. With one last flick of her nipple, his hand retreated. Lexie heard the shriek of ripping fabric before she felt the coolness of the cabin’s air on her butt. The erotic sound of ripping fabric would live on forever in her fantasies.
Lace from her panties strummed over her clitoris and bit into her cheek as Captain Warren jerked them to the side. Lexie repositioned her knees wider in the seat to keep her balance, and then muffled a scream of ecstasy into the leather. His tongue swiped a sumptuous line starting on her swollen clit and ending with a bite on her lower back. “I’ve had red popsicles, but that red’s the best I’ve ever tasted,” he growled near her ear. “Save me some for later.”
Lexie whimpered in response.
When his hands gripped her bare hips and the smoothness of his erection slid between her cheeks, fresh moisture coated her lower lips. Her vagina pulsed with need. He glided the head of his penis teasingly over her lips. Their juices melded.
“Condom,” Lexie panted.
“Shit! Condom. Right. You’re making me forget myself, Doctor.”
He fumbled around for a second before she heard the rip of foil. His hot cock left her for the barest of moments before it returned to massage her clit. Slowly, he entered, filling her and giving her what she so desired. Sweet sexual oblivion took hold as they joined. The job, hell, the whole world, fell away as he wrapped an arm around her middle anchoring her to him, and then he covered one of her hands with his own and rhythmically drove into her.
Each thrust snuggled his core to her bottom and pierced her womb. Each withdrawal massaged her tight walls, setting her neurons off like firecrackers on Independence Day. He nudged her face up from the pillowy seat. “No one’s going to hear, but me, and I want to hear everything you have to say about this.”
“They’re not intelligible words,” she panted.
“That works too.”
He peeled off her top and Lexie sighed. His arm and hot body continued to brace her while his other hand smoothed over her abdomen and down her thigh. Open mouthed kisses sprinkled her bare shoulder.
Not even face to face had Lexie ever made more engaging love. So drawn in to this man, her hands abandoned the chair. One gripped his hair, the other bit into the skin of his waist as she urged him closer. Their tempo rose, along with their voices which filled the cabin with pants and moans.
On another pass, his hand plunged from her belly to her center. His fingers spread her slippery lips wide and stroked the ridge of her sex. “So good. So good.” Lexie chanted the wor
ds.
“Too damn good,” he answered.
His husky voice in her ear, massaging cock deep inside, and stroking finger coalesced into a fierce orgasm. Lexie came hard with a scream. Every muscle in her body constricted with sheer pleasure. Her channel convulsed, milking his release. He barked an expletive as he erupted. The warmth primed Lexie for a second climax, until the plane rattled, then dropped five feet.
They careened backward, two half naked bodies still joined in the throes of passion and turbulence. Captain Warren caught the edge of his seat and hoisted them into it before they hit the floor.
“Shit,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Better than okay.”
Lexie disengaged herself and slid into her seat. Staring across from her, the man was a rumpled mess and looked delicious for it. Clothes hung from his every limb. The white shirt she’d been so eager to remove, lacked several buttons and boasted a rather large rip. Hair stuck to his forehead, wet from sweat.
She licked her swollen lips. “I suppose you need to go.”
“Hate to, but yeah.” He ruffled the hair on his forehead and huffed. When she expected him to turn and leave he captured her hand, pulled it to his mouth and straightened her fingers. His face buried in her palm. Hot wet kisses soothed her flesh. “I have to get you safely on the ground.”
As Lexie watched the beautiful pilot dress, she erupted into a fit of giggles.
He cocked his brows and cinched the knot on his tie.
“What? Is my fly down?”
“No, you look perfect. It’s just, now I’m a member of the Mile High Club.”
“Yeah? Me too.”
“For the hundredth time,” she said with a snort.
“Believe it or not, until today, I took my job seriously.”
“Yeah, so did I,” she said with a high brow, the unasked What’s your point? written above it.
He leaned down and kissed Lexie’s cheek. “You took my Mile High virginity, Dr. McCrae.”
“Lexie,” she amended.
“Lexie.” Her name rumbled from his lips.
“What’s your first name, Captain Warren?”
After kissing her other cheek, he said, “Beck.”
Her nails sank into his shirt and she pulled him back for a searing kiss. “So, Beck, is your beach virginity intact?”
“I grew up on the beach.” He shrugged and grabbed her hand. His lips brushed the back of her hand. That brilliant smile flashed. “But I just bought a boat.”
Lexie watched his wide frame maneuver through the small cockpit door and fantasized about what he’d look like naked and what it’d be like to have sex on a boat.
ENEMY MINE
When friends become enemies and enemies become lovers.
Born in the blood of Sierra Leone's Civil War, enslaved, then sold to the US as an orphan, Base Branch operative Sloan Harris is emotionally dead and driven by vengeance. With no soul to give, her body becomes the bargaining chip to infiltrate a warlord's inner circle. The man called The Devil killed her family and helped destroy a region.
As son of the warlord, Baine Kendrick will happily use Sloan's body if it expedites his father's demise. Yet, he is wholly unprepared for the possessive and protective emotions she provokes. Maybe it’s the flashes of memory … two forgotten children drawing in the dirt beneath the boabab tree… But he fears there is more at stake than his life.
In the Devil's den with Baine by her side, Sloan braves certain death and discovers a spirit for living.
READ MORE
JUSTICE MINE
For justice. For country. For love.
After witnessing her friend’s sexual assault, seven-year senior Magdalena Wells escapes an attack with a few bruises and a thousand questions. As a journalist in practice, if not in pay, Mags vows to utilize the skills she mastered in the Democratic Republic of Congo and answer every single one, just as soon as she gets the hell out of town.
Law Pierce’s aim is rest and relaxation after two years undercover in South Africa on an extended Base Branch mission, but restlessness puts him in trouble’s path. As a servant of justice, Law will do everything in his power to keep trouble safe. The fact that trouble’s petite stature and luscious curves stir his every primal instinct is a massive inconvenience he struggles to ignore.
Together Magdalena and Law uncover a web of corruption and dirty lies that could set their country’s top official ablaze, if the inferno doesn’t consume them first.
READ MORE
Books by Megan Mitcham
BASE BRANCH SERIES
ENEMY MINE
JUSTICE MINE
STRANGER MINE
WARRIOR MINE
DANGER MINE
PRISONER MINE
VERSIONS - August 2016
VIRTUES - September 2016
VARIATIONS - October 2016
SURVIVOR MINE - 2017
BUREAU SERIES
FOR ALL TO SEE
PAINTED WALLS
FORD’S BOOK - 2016
ANTHOLOGIES
ANTICIPATION
COWBOY HEAT
HIGH OCTANE HEROES
CONQUESTS
ROGUES
SEX OBJECTS
WILD AT HEART VOLUME II
benefiting Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge
BOX SET
HEARTS IN DANGER
Limited Edition
benefiting the American Heart Association
For information on new releases and giveaways, sign up for Megan’s newsletter at www.meganmitcham.com.
ENEMY MINE - Excerpt
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. Sloan’s sun flushed skin prickled quickly in the cool water. For the next twenty minutes, she focused on the rhythm. She released every concern from her mind and swam. No, in hooker mode her legs couldn’t kick as furiously as she wanted nor arms stroke as hard, but her muscles still sang. The effort gave her brain a welcomed respite from the restless night.
Covert work had always been Sloan’s forte. Morphing into someone else. Hiding who she was. What she’d endured. But this assignment held in the balance every desire she’d clung to since the day she’d quit mourning her parents and started fighting, everything she’d thought beyond her grasp after so long struggling to make it a reality. This assignment had also tapped a well of emotion she’d thought long ago drained.
“Nice stroke.”
His voice destroyed her solitude. The dark timbre resonated down Sloan’s spine like a cellist’s bow being dragged across the C string. A fresh wave of gooseflesh crested over her. She curled the water’s surface and turned toward Baine. Words froze in her throat. Thick and unruly dark hair cropped neatly around his ears, but dipped and swayed wildly at his forehead. The perfect handle for screwing. Jezuz. If that one wasn’t enticing enough, the swells and dips of his traps, shoulders, and biceps provided a feast of options to grip while riding the sculpted V of his hips. Everywhere she looked his swarthy skin wrapped taut—over a defined eight pack, thick and sturdy legs, corded forearms. The short crinkles of brown hair that peppered across his chest and peeked out from the waist of his swim trunks sizzled her brain.
“Thank you.” Sloan aimed for courteous and non-solicitous, tamping down the resentment, warring curiosity, and wicked lust he stirred inside her with every bit of self-control she possessed.
The bespoke suit he’d worn so well the night before had been traded for charcoal swim trunks and a towel slung over one shoulder. He moved toward her with grace that belied his bulk, before dropping his towel on the chaise next to hers. Of all the chairs and loungers in the place, he’d chosen the only occupied lounger on the entire patio. The act, though in all likelihood innocent, rang in Sloan’s ears like a war cry. A deliberate move in a complicated game of chess. Having just finished her laps, his timing was too perfect to be coincidence.
Baine turned and settled his gaze on her. Sloan searched for any sign of recognition in the sky blue orbs, in the tautness o
f his square jaw, or the furrow of his brow, and found none. Good. If he recognized her, the mission would be ruined. Not that she’d live to see the fallout. It was good that his eyes hadn’t alighted with remembrance, but heedless of the boon, emptiness pitted her belly.
Every battle honed instinct screamed for Sloan to retreat. In submission, she pushed off the bottom and glided to the stone outcropping only a few feet away from the enigma that was Baine Kendrick. She should hate him on sight. Anger roiled just under the surface, but the sudden and undeniable physical awareness of him played bumper-cars with the ire and her brain.
“It’s all yours,” she said, levering herself out of the water. Thousands of droplets rained off her body, and Baine’s intent study likely cataloged each. Like a damn schoolgirl, her cheeks heated.
“That’s good,” he said. A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. Then he added, “I think you would put me to shame in a proper race.”
Sloan shook her head, unable to speak. The twinge of memory of two forgotten children racing over the green grass was too sweet and painful to rouse.
He held out a towel, and she forced her feet to close the distance. Proximity sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her, similar to the energy that surged before a fight, but different. She swallowed hard, struggling to ignore the nuance, which made her hyper aware she wore only strategically placed strips of spandex. When her fingers closed around the terry cloth, Lana and Cynthia ambled through the doorway onto the patio. Their conversation quieted once they saw her and Baine. The women waved.
“Good morning, ladies.”
They beamed at him as they walked by, then settled on side-by-side lounges at the opposite end of the row. Sloan nodded and soaked up the excess moisture from her hair and body in preparation for her escape. She secured the towel around her body with a tuck of its tail at the top of her breast, and gave him the best smile she could muster.
Red (Close Contact Book 3) Page 2