Sarah leaned forward, closing the space between them. She flattened her right hand over his shoulder and kissed him. Just like she’d imagined doing for years. Ever since she realized that boys weren’t all like her brother. That Rand was someone else—someone she wanted in a sexual way.
The muscles under her hand tensed, coiling tight, but he didn’t move.
What was she doing?
The cold reality of it slapped her in the face. She was high on endorphins, exhausted, and trying to kiss her brother’s former best friend.
It was not a good look for her. Desperate had never been her color.
Besides, when had Rand ever treated her as anything but a friend? There’d been hints, moments when something might have happened, but they’d never crossed the line.
God, she’d fucked up. What the hell should she do now?
Sarah leaned back.
They could chalk it up to her being crazy, right?
Rand’s hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her forward. His lips sealed over hers. Hot. Unyielding. Demanding. He rolled forward, forcing her left leg up over his, hiking her towel up her thigh.
Holy shit. Was that his tongue in her mouth?
It was her turn to freeze, caught in the moment. Her body lost no time. Waves of heat and lust swept her. Goosebumps broke out along her arms. Her nipples tightened and her pussy clenched. She gripped his shirt, hanging on for dear life while his mouth moved against hers.
Rand Duncan was kissing her back.
…
Rand suckled her lip between his teeth, working the bit of flesh, licking her smooth skin. She groaned into his mouth and her hand clenched his shirt. The weight of her thigh over his drew his attention lower. He closed his hand over her knee, then slid it up until terry cloth brushed his fingers.
This was a dream. A false reality where Sarah Collins wanted to fuck him. It wasn’t real.
Sharp teeth nipped his lip, pinching a little too tight. Holy shit.
This was happening.
And it shouldn’t.
She was Matt’s little sister. He’d just sewn up her arm. They were exhausted, in hiding and safe for the time being. He hadn’t spoken to another person he could trust in months.
Her tongue stroked his and her hand slid between the buttons, caressing his chest.
He needed to get closer.
Rand shifted, rolling his chair away from the desk, and pulled her onto his lap, until she straddled him. She was so much smaller than him, breakable, precious.
Matt’s fucking sister. His little sister.
That factoid mattered less and less the more she shifted against him, rubbing her body over his. Her thighs tensed and she rocked her hips into his. His already aching dick throbbed.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, trapping her close to him, giving her the leverage to continue tormenting him through the layer of denim separating them. The towel dropped, draping over his arm.
He slid his hand up her bare leg, over the swell of her hip, the dip of her waist, and flare of her ribs, until he could cup the heavy weight of her breast.
Not so little anymore.
Rand tore his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck, licking her collarbone. She smelled of him. He knew it was because of his soap. It made sense. But the primal part of his brain only registered the single meaning: she was his.
His.
It was a lie, but for a moment he wanted to believe it. That in an alternate world, Sarah would be his. That he could thrust into her hot, tight pussy all night long, every night of his life.
They lived in a dangerous world, made more so by their commitment to their country. He ran through a mental checklist. Door—locked. Security system—armed. Motion sensors outside—activated. He’d done as much as he could to ensure they were as safe as could be for the time being.
She leaned back, thrusting her chest up.
Don’t mind if I do…
He was right. Her baggy clothes hid dangerous curves. Breasts big enough to fill his hands. Hips made for thrusting. Her nipples were dusky brown, the tight points beckoning him. He licked one breast and used his fingers on the other. She yanked at his shirt and buttons went flying. Like he cared. It was a shirt. Tasting her was far more important.
Was she as wet as he was hard? He released her waist and cupped her mound. Her skin was damp, slick to the touch.
Christ, she was Matt’s sister.
“Rand.” The way she said his name, infused with need and frustration… There was no doubt she knew exactly who he was. But did she realize what they were doing?
He’d just stitched her arm, for fuck’s sake. She was injured. And here he was, about to stick his fingers inside her hot, sweet body.
“Sarah?”
“Yes!” She shifted her hips, pressing down.
It would be so easy to slide into her. But he couldn’t. Not like this. It wasn’t right, no matter what he wanted or how hard his dick was. He couldn’t do this and live with himself.
“No—stop.” Rand pulled his hands back and clasped her around the waist. It was the safest spot for them. He was so going to hell for this.
“What?” Sarah panted, her eyes narrow slits, lips glossy and swollen.
“We have to stop.” How he hated those words.
“What?” she said again, this time sharper.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” He picked up the towel in a vain attempt to cover her.
“You have got to be joking.” She didn’t take over the covering herself gig. If anything, the glare she leveled at him said one thing. Pissed.
“I’m not.” He draped the towel over her shoulders, covering all the important things. It was easier to tell her no when he didn’t have to see her breasts. “You’re hurt. This is a stressful time for you. I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”
There were enough regrets to his name to not add another.
She leaned forward and the towel slipped off one shoulder. She prodded his sternum with a finger, glare sharp enough to cut him.
“You don’t get to put this on me. If you want to stop, that’s on you. Not me.” She shifted, planting her weight on one foot, and swung her other leg over his lap until she stood next to him.
The fucking towel fell onto the floor.
She was a good foot, foot and a half taller than him sitting. Putting him at the perfect height to become better acquainted with her lovely breasts. Her partially dry hair hung down past her shoulders, and she tipped her chin up, as if she were daring him to do something. He just didn’t know what.
Goddamn, she was something else.
“You have two options.” Sarah placed a hand on one hip.
He’d been too busy to notice the neatly trimmed patch of curls covering her mound. Natural. Nice. Fuck, why was he paying attention to that?
“Yeah?” He swallowed and dragged his eyes up. He meant to look at her face. Really. But her boobs—man. Had they been that big when he’d seen her last? Round and full, with nipples— Stop. He had to stop now.
Rand shook his head and forced his gaze to hers.
She smirked. And why shouldn’t she? She was a beautiful woman fully aware of what was going on in his mind. How she affected him.
He couldn’t think about that too much, or he’d get jealous of some nameless, faceless fuckwit who’d had the brains to stick around and love her like a real man. Instead of someone like him, who left. Because he hadn’t been able to face what he’d done.
“What did you say?” Had she finished whatever gauntlet statement she was about to throw down?
“You have two options, Rand. I’m getting off one way or another. You can sit there and watch, or you can play along. Your choice.”
Whoa. What?
Sarah backed away from him, hands trailing down her torso, cupping her breasts. She was a woman completely confident in herself. In her sexuality. And he’d never wanted her more. This wasn’t the same sweet, innocent girl he’d idolize
d. She’d grown up. And what did he expect from her, anyway? She’d always gone for what she wanted. Even when it meant playing dirty. And Sarah was not being nice.
The back of her legs hit the bed and she sat down, knees opening wide, giving him a glimpse of the forbidden fruit he’d touched. He fisted his hands, trace amounts of her moisture still clinging to his fingertips. She leaned back on her left arm and covered her mound with her right hand.
Fuck. She wasn’t shy at all, not that “shy” was a word he’d ever associated with Sarah.
He was a bastard. A guilty son of a bitch. Was this any worse than what he’d already done? Matt hated him. Always would. Rand had wanted Sarah since she stopped wearing those matching kid outfits, though what he wanted from her had changed from innocent to…something much sweatier over time.
He couldn’t get guiltier. It wasn’t like Matt was ever going to forgive him. Why not take this one chance he was offered? Not having a chance with Sarah had always been one of his biggest regrets. He couldn’t keep her—but he could have her for a little while.
Chapter Four
Rand’s mind was made up before the thought solidified. He stood and shrugged out of the ruined shirt. He crossed the distance in one stride and covered her hand with his. Her hips lifted, and she continued to work her fingers in and out. She tipped her head back.
Maybe she meant to offer her mouth, maybe she didn’t.
He kissed her, thrusting his tongue past her lips and his finger into her pussy. Her fingers separated, spreading herself open. He pumped two digits deep into her channel, curling them within her. She whimpered at the intrusion, her breath catching.
Slick was an understatement. She arched into his palm, seeking more.
She grasped the waistband of his jeans, yanking at his belt. Somehow, the minx got his pants undone with one hand while he was knuckle-deep in her. The woman had untapped talents. She closed her hand around his cock through the fabric of his underwear, the heat of her palm searing his flesh.
There was no way to last. If he didn’t take immediate control he was going to come on her hand, and as much as he liked to see a woman painted with his seed, he wanted inside her.
“Lay on your stomach. Now.” He spoke against her lips, caressing them as he spoke. He’d lived with the fantasy of her firm, round behind since the day she put on that first pair of tiny, spandex volleyball shorts. He planned on having his hands all over her ass.
Rand pulled his fingers from her and didn’t miss the way her body trembled.
“You’re still bossy.” Sarah leaned back on her elbows. The angry, red line of stitches glared at him.
“If you aren’t on your stomach when I turn around, I’m putting you there.”
Rand stood and backed away from the bed.
She wasn’t what he’d expected. Not that he had any freaking clue what to expect when it came to her. One of the rules about walking away had been to never ask or look up information about the Collins family. Any of them. Especially her and Matt. But mostly her.
He resisted the compulsion to upend his pack, dump everything out in an effort to find the condom he knew was somewhere buried in its depths. Thankfully, he found the protection in one of the inner pockets.
His boots came off, one then the other. He kicked them to the side as he strode to the door, ensuring it was locked, the security system was armed, and a gun was placed on top of the fridge. No one kind of protection was more important than the other right now.
Satisfied, he turned back to the bed.
Sarah hadn’t moved.
She kicked one foot off the side of the mattress, the other knee drawn up, her heel on the mattress, toes wiggling.
Of course, she’d be obstinate. It was Sarah.
Rand narrowed his gaze. One side of her mouth hitched up. She was trying to antagonize him. The brat. It took three strides to cross the apartment, even with his jeans sliding down around the top of his thighs.
He tossed the condom onto the bed and grabbed her by the hips, flipping her over on her stomach. She laughed and kicked one foot up, toes curled.
“Stay right there.” He landed a slap to the curve of her ass.
She yelped and peered over her shoulder, but didn’t move.
He hooked his thumbs in his underwear and shoved them, along with his jeans, to the floor. Naked and aroused, he rolled the condom on. If he touched her one more time, he’d forget that all-important barrier. The only thing that would be between them for a short while.
Rand pushed her knees apart. Her glistening pussy lips teased him, reminding him of just how hot and tight she’d felt around his fingers. He planted one knee on the mattress between her thighs and grasped his cock.
This wasn’t a wet dream. It was a reality. He couldn’t screw this up.
He bent and kissed the same spot he’d smacked. It wasn’t even red, but he found it.
“Rand.” She drew his name out, twisting her upper body, reaching for him.
He crawled up her, capturing her exactly where she was, and kissed her gently. He wasn’t given to tender affections, but he’d also never been with her. It made sense that with her, he would be different.
“Stay on your stomach,” he said again.
“Really?”
“Keep your arms above your head.” He grasped her hands and placed it on the mattress.
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m all the fun.”
“Big talk.”
“You going to keep talking?”
“If I say yes, will you get on with it?”
Sarah. Always back-talking.
He grinned and grasped his cock. She arched her hips, lifting off the mattress. He spread her with one hand and guided his erection to her entrance with the other.
This is really happening.
The sight of his flesh nestled between her lower lips was…hot.
He flexed his hips, pushing into her, and held his breath as her slickness eased the entrance. Her inner muscles squeezed him, drawing him deeper.
Sarah groaned. He leaned forward, planting a hand next to her waist.
“Oh, my.” Sarah’s eyes closed, her breath stirred the sheets.
“Yeah?”
“Holy shit.” She tensed around him, a conscious action that made his vision blur.
He shifted, withdrawing from her body, loving the way she moaned. He thrust into her, harder, feeling the glide all the way into his balls. The mattress squeaked, protesting the harder use, but whatever.
“Yes,” she hissed.
Was Sarah a talker? Wouldn’t surprise him.
She squeezed him with the same intensity as before.
Fuck.
This wasn’t going to last anywhere near long enough. He had to make sure she at least came before he did. Or talk about screwing up a one-time shot.
Rand pushed his hand under her hip until he could cup her mound. He kissed the back of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, and rested his forehead against her spine. Something right settled deep in his gut. Maybe if the world were different, if the past hadn’t happened, things between them would have turned out another way. But this was all they had. And he was selfish enough to take what he could get.
He thrust. She groaned, her hands fisting the comforter. This close, he could see all the micro expressions on her face. The smallest contraction of muscles around her eyes and mouth. He pressed his fingers over her mound, finding that little bundle of nerves. She shifted her hips in time with his, deepening the penetration, working in tandem with him.
The force of their joining scooted her a tiny bit each time he slid into her, inching them across the mattress. Her little whimpers of passion, the needy sounds she made in the back of her throat—he couldn’t get enough of them.
His orgasm was close. He couldn’t hold out much longer.
Rand shoved his hand farther between them until his fingers bumped his cock. Her arousal eased the passage as he drew his index finger back up, over
her clit, sliding the clitoral hood back. The erect nub was easy to find with his thumb. He stroked it in time with his thrust.
Sarah’s eyes popped open, her jaw dropping on a silent shout.
That’s it.
He drove into her, again and again, stroking her boldly with each thrust. “Come on, Sarah,” he whispered into the crook of her neck. A tingle began at the base of his spine. If she didn’t come now—
“R-Rand!” Her voice hitched into a wail, and her pussy clamped down on him.
That one act spurred his orgasm on. He thrust, jerky, uneven motions, her nub captured between his fingers as he came, seeking to draw out her pleasure. All the energy left him weak and spent. He covered her body with his.
Sarah mumbled something, but it was lost in the sheets.
He wanted to stay right there, exhausted, sated, and warm, but she was so small. His weight would crush her before much longer.
Rand wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled, squeezing her to him. His dick slipped out of her, but he kept her back to his front as they lay on their sides.
“You say something?” he asked.
“I can’t remember how to word.”
He chuckled and kissed her cheek. This whole thing was surreal. Sarah. Here. With him. In bed.
“How’s the arm?” He twined his fingers with hers, testing the waters, waiting for a moment of shock or awkwardness—but it didn’t come.
“I can’t really feel my fingers yet, so great.” Her eyes were still closed, her head pillowed on his forearm.
Fuck. He could still feel the phantom squeeze of her pussy around him. “Hey.” He nudged her shoulder. “Don’t go to sleep yet. You need to eat something. Crap. I bet it’s cold now.”
“What’d you get?”
“Mystery meat on a stick. This shit’s good. I swing by whenever I can.”
“Mm, mystery meat. That’s one thing I miss when I go home.”
“You want the bathroom?”
“Not yet.”
Rand buzzed her cheek with a kiss and eased out from under her. He checked the temperature of the food. Warm in places. He slipped them into the microwave for a few seconds before ducking into the bathroom to clean up and get out of her way.
Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes) Page 5