Mercenary Desires (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Quinn, Jane Leopold

  “That does it,” he muttered. He wasn’t going to waste any more time. This asshole was not going to have her. He pushed the door open and stalked through, lips compressed, his glare hidden behind aviators.

  “Hello, Sara.”

  * * * *

  Sara’s heart hammered hard. She looked to her customer as if he were the one who spoke, then to the man at the door. That voice. She’d know that voice anywhere. In disbelief, she watched the Greek god stride across her shop dressed in mouthwateringly-fitted black jeans. He’d rolled the long sleeves of a white dress shirt back over thick, muscled forearms. The sight of him tugged at her heart, and every other part of her suddenly hot and soft intimate places. Good Lord, more purple prose.

  Instinctively she knew him, even though his face was clean-shaven and unmarked. She knew his hair, still long, pulled back in a neat salt and pepper ponytail at his nape. In slow motion, he reached up and removed his sunglasses. The shop disappeared. Her customer disappeared. She gripped the edge of the counter. The warm, moss green eyes held her enthralled and breathless. Her mouth fell open. She didn’t care. Trying to speak, she found she couldn’t utter a word.

  “Sir, the store’s closed.” He broke the spell with his commanding voice, but never took his eyes from hers.

  Her face flamed. Speechless, deliriously happy, and the most turned on she’d ever been in her life, she managed to croak, “Hello, Peter.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll leave, Sara.”

  She nodded absently, then remembered her customer. “Don! Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He dropped his voice so only she could hear and patted her hand. “I’ll talk to you another time.”

  She watched as Don left the store, then as Peter closed and locked the door and turned the “Closed” sign outward. Rowdy. His eyes, those burning green eyes, sliced through to her soul.

  “I’ve thought about you,” they both said at the same time.

  “I’ve wondered what you’re doing.” Again, at the same time.

  His cheekbones flushed, nostrils flared. The muscle at the side of his jaw clenched.

  Her own cheeks burned. Crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, surprised she sounded normal, “Are you in town for business?”

  “Yes. No. I’ve wondered about you,” he repeated.

  “Why?”

  “Sara.” He sounded awkward. “I don’t have a prepared speech. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the minute I put you in that helo.”

  “What happened between us?” she asked.

  He brushed his hand over his hair, releasing some of the strands. “Damned if I know. I just couldn’t put you out of my mind.”

  His uncertainty was endearing. “I know,” she said.

  “You, too?”

  She heard the hope in his voice. Nodding, she slowly backed toward her workroom. He followed, never taking his gaze off hers. She quickly sidled around her worktable, needing a little space. Almost as shocking and horrifying as her kidnapping had been, Peter Rowdy Pierce showing up in Chicago at her shop was pretty scary, too.

  He picked up a dainty screwdriver, rubbed his finger along its narrow length, frowning a little. A scorching blast of hunger and need slammed into her. He was so big, his shoulders massive. The sensuality of his huge hands toying with her teeny jewelry tools was a promise of what he could do to her with those hands.

  His beautiful eyes shifted to her face. “Tell me now if you want me to leave, because I’m not going to wait much longer.”

  Her body thrummed with anticipation. She felt herself flowering again, moistening, aching, wanting his thick, hard, ridged cock inside her. She wasn’t sure if stretching out the wait was causing more pleasure or more anticipation. “You shaved.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his fingers over his jaw. “When did you notice?” His lips quirked. His gaze locked on hers, in a powerful, sensual hold.

  “Rowdy, Jesus, you look good.”

  “Sara.” The smile crinkling the corners of his eyes belied the tension palpable in his body. “You’re not doing any better than I am, are you?”

  She gave a little huff of agreement and shook her head slowly back and forth in amazement. Back home in Chicago, she’d tried to put him out of her mind, but he’d been larger than life. Her hero. They’d made a connection out there in the desert. She just hadn’t known how strongly he felt it too. Until now. Taking the first deep breath in what felt like a long time, she knew his merest touch would be enough to send her over the edge.

  “Leave? Or stay?” He edged around the table, a predatory light in his eyes.

  She feathered her fingertips over his shirtfront, enjoying the crisp, cotton feel. Even more, she loved the hard, thick pad of muscles underneath, the line of hair down his chest. Leaning into him, her lips curved in a flirtatious smile and, with a seductive purr, she said, “Stay.” She found his nipples with her thumbs, their stiffness arousing her even more. “Rowdy, please stay. God, I want you.”

  * * * *

  Rowdy groaned and lifted her up onto the table, mindful of all the little tools and stones, and caught her lips in a hard, possessive kiss. “Who the hell is Don?”

  “A friend.” Her voice quivered in arousal.

  “A boyfriend?” If he was, he sure caved and scampered out fast enough.

  She brushed a fingertip across his lips. “No. Just a good friend.”

  With that out of the way, he pushed her sweater off her shoulders and traced the edge of the tank top with both thumbs, stroking over to the center of her breasts.

  “Not here.”

  “Where?” His voice was an embarrassing breathless, husky whisper.

  “My office. Big couch. In there.” She pointed to a door at the back of the workroom.

  “Thank you, Lord.” He swept her up—he loved doing that—charged through the doorway to her office, kicked the door shut, and dropped her down on the sofa. The little devil lay there beaming up at him with those blue eyes, looking all molten and soft. He knelt beside the couch. “Take this off,” he ordered as he pulled her sweater and tank top all the way off.

  “Son of a bitch.” His breath caught in his throat. He was afraid his heart would stop.

  “You don’t like it?”

  Her falsely innocent question kicked it back into a pounding rhythm. “Like?” he gasped. Glancing at her pleased expression, he dragged his gaze back to her breathtaking breasts. He fully appreciated her spectacular bra, the colors shimmering into each other, the lace barely covering her. But really, he could give a shit. All he wanted to do was taste her soft, cushiony skin. Preferably now. He lowered his head and sucked her nipple between his teeth.

  She responded with a sharp cry.

  Right through the lace, he rocked it, lashing the tip with his tongue.

  She twisted and surged, her fingers in his hair, gripping his head. “The other one,” she begged with little kittenish mews.

  He was a good boy. He did as he was told. With a final nip, he lifted his head and whispered, “The jeans.”

  She nodded frantically. “Uh huh.”

  He slid them down her long, beautiful legs, right off over the sexy stilettos. “Fuck.” The panties matched her bra, blonde pussy hair peeping through the lace. “Jesus, sweetheart, you’re killin’ me,” he groaned. “Long legs, sexy underwear, and stilettos? I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  She groaned. Her chest rose and fell sharply. “I want you inside me now. Slow later,” she ordered, gripping the front of his shirt.

  “Yes’m.” He stood, divested himself of his shirt, boots, and jeans, and after peeling her out of her bra and panties, knelt between her thighs on the cushions. “Leave the shoes on,” he commanded. He didn’t give a crap if those spikes scratched his ass to ribbons.

  “Rowdy, I want you. Now.” She clutched his arms, pulling him toward her.

  Chapter 6

  Shaking, you’d think it was his first time with a woman, Rowdy thought as he pushed
her thighs out, rolling them open. God, she was wet and ready, her clit swollen and red. Her soft pussy glistened moistly at him. “Hoh…Jesus,” he intoned reverently. He wanted to ram his aching cock inside her little hole until she shrieked with pleasure.

  She moaned and threw her head back. “Oh, God.”

  She squirmed when he pressed his thumbs on either side of her clit. “This is so pretty, darlin’.”

  Her hips pumped, she gripped the sides of the cushions.

  The sweet little cherry nub hypnotized him.

  “Please.”

  He slid his middle finger inside her in short, slow, twisting pumps.

  “Rowdy, please,” she begged.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. She tightened on the tip of his finger. His cock surged in anticipation. She took two fingers all the way in, her muscles contracting around them. He pressed on her G-spot. She growled long, low, and feral.

  “Yeah, now.” His shaking fist gripped his cock and steered it into her sweet, tight pussy. “Unh,” he groaned, twisting his hips, circling and teasing. More like torture. Hot…feel good…want inside. He was a caveman, and she was his woman.

  “Yes,” she cried, panting hoarsely, surging up, tossing her head back on the cushion, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  He inched in, hips pumping shallowly, her silken walls luring him in.

  “Please, Rowdy!”

  Jesus, one more push. “Shit!”

  “What!”

  “Condom,” he barked.

  “Don’t you have one?” Her panic was unmistakable.

  He scrambled off, reaching for his pants. Ripping the package open, he sheathed himself, just that almost driving him over the edge. “I’m back,” he muttered as he reseated himself at her entrance.

  Now her hands were at his waist, his hips, gripping his ass. She gave a sharp tug. He obeyed and thrust, burying the thick head of his cock in as far as he could go. He grunted at the spike of pleasure roiling from inside his balls, racing through his body, and tried to pull out to thrust again. She wouldn’t let him go. Fine with him. Pumping and circling his hips, he fucked her. He hadn’t thought he’d last long, but it seemed like hours. His eyes rolled back in his head. She was hot and wet and tight, so slippery. Jesus, God.

  His tightening and aching balls, the raging heat and pressure of his cum, like no other feeling known to man, it had to explode. No choice. No stopping it. Coming… He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning through the sensations. They bucked against each other. She kicked his ass with the sharp spiky heels and panted.

  His cum roiled, rose violently and burst from his body, hot and dense. Dying. So good. His body pumped uncontrollably. He didn’t want it to end.

  Finally, though, he slowed, felt her arms around his back, hands stroking, felt her fingernails digging in, scratching.

  Christ. Shuddering, he dimly wondered if she’d had an orgasm. He’d been so hungry for her but had done nothing to help her. What an asshole. He’d make it up to her. Even if it took a lifetime. “I’m sorry.”

  Her fingers stilled. “What for?” she asked warily, in a low, whispery voice.

  He collapsed to her side against the back of the couch and pulled her tightly against him. “Don’t know if you came. I was an animal.” He tipped her chin up and turned her face to his. “It’ll be better next time.” Her silence unnerved him. Please, God, don’t let me screw this up.

  * * * *

  Sara cupped his face in her palm and rubbed her thumb across his lips. She smiled when he bit at the ticklish feeling. It was the most spectacular sex of her life. She’d come in spades, and he actually cared whether she had or not. Rowdy Pierce was a special man. “Next time?” She giggled. Kissing his chest, she whispered groggily, “You think you can do this again? I’m not sure either one of us would survive.”

  * * * *

  She awakened alone, covered with an afghan. Stunned, she lay there, unwilling to face the possibility he was gone. Even though she’d only known him less than twenty-four hours, most of which was spent running for their lives, she hadn’t been embarrassed with him. His response to her body, her response to his, had been as if they’d been together for years.

  She listened for sounds from the shop. There were none. Squeezing her eyes closed, taking a deep breath, she knew she wanted to be with him again. Her body hadn’t felt this gloriously well-used in…in ever. This couldn’t be the end. He hadn’t come all this way to Chicago for one time with her.

  The little bell over her front door dinged, and she leaped off the couch. Who was coming in? The door had been locked. Wrapping the blanket around her, tucking it in over her breasts, she crept to the office door and quietly turned the dead bolt. She was in no mood for a customer, and if it was a robber, he’d just have to take everything.

  The knob turned. She stared at the door.

  “Hey, babe, you in there?”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. Awash with giddy, sensual feelings, she opened the door a sliver and peeped out. He was back. With shopping bags.

  He crowded her back into the office, green eyes sparkling mischievously. “I found this food shop down the street but…” His gaze swept her from head to foot. “But I’m not hungry.” His nostrils flared, and it was hard to miss the flush of sensual awareness on his cheeks as he backed up and relocked the door. “Are you hungry?” His smile quirked up on one side.

  She slowly shook her head and met his gaze. “As delicious as you look in those jeans, you need to take them off.” Her heart beat like a trip hammer. “I am hungry, as a matter of fact.”

  His mouth opened, eyes widened, and he tugged open the button at his waist. “What do you want?” His jaw worked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

  “Take it all off and lie down on the couch,” she purred. Boots, jeans, shirt—all came off. No underwear. She hadn’t noticed that before. He went commando, which seemed to fit the primal kind of man he was. Now it was her turn to feast her eyes. Magnificent! Broad shouldered, narrow hipped, he looked like a statue, except he was warm flesh and hard muscle. His erection curved up his belly from its black nest. She let the afghan slip to the floor. She could practically see his cock throb.

  He crooked a finger at her, giving her a squinty stare. “Come here, honey.”

  She moved toward him, placed a hand in the middle of his chest, and pushed. He easily toppled back. Oh, God. His cock bounced. He wrapped a hand around his penis and slowly slid it up to the tip while watching her. She licked her lips. His gaze followed her tongue. As much as she wanted to take him in her mouth, she wanted him inside her more. A high-pitched cry came from her throat. Cream trickled from her drenched pussy.

  He started to look desperate, like he was worried she wouldn’t come to him. He massaged himself again, his eyes slits, taunting her. God, she wanted that huge bad boy inside her. Sliding along his thighs, she put her hands on his shoulders, and impaled herself. Impaled very slowly. Enjoying every second.

  With a deep growl, he gripped her waist and pulled. Hard. She threw her head back and shouted. He was in, as tightly as it was possible to be. He took her head between his palms and kissed her, covering her mouth, eating at it, thrusting his tongue as she rocked wildly against him. She cupped his head, too, taking his mouth with equal ferocity and a groan that wouldn’t end.

  He gripped her bottom, took control, and rammed her against his cock. He reached between them and pressed and flicked her clit until she felt the flutters in her vagina, the waves of contractions, little explosions like stars shattering.

  She might have passed out for a moment. Still straddling him, she wilted into his embrace, biting his shoulder in a passion-induced reaction to another huge orgasm. He clasped her close with shaking arms.

  * * * *

  Hours and hours later, after making love in every room of her apartment, Rowdy and Sara stood in the shower locked in each other’s arms. His heart thumped under her ear, she ached oh so pleasantly, was drowsy and satiated. They had
even made love in the shower, a risky proposition, but they’d managed beautifully. Peter Pierce was a very strong and agile man.

  “I wanted you from the first moment.”

  “Even then?”

  “You were traumatized. I didn’t want to touch you.”

  “I touched you first.”

  “I must have scared you. My beard.”

  “Your eyes.” She nibbled at his chest. “Your eyes were so warm. I trusted you. Knew you’d protect me with your life.”

  “I couldn’t stay away,” he murmured into her ear, tracing his hand over her thighs, higher and higher, until his slick fingers pushed into her sheath.

  “Yes, darling,” she groaned as he pumped them in and out. “Oh, yes.” She was going to come again. They hadn’t known each other long, but he knew her body so well. Knew how to get her there and then to push her over the edge. It was a while before she felt the water pelting on her skin again, the steam shrouding them.

  She thought she was probably half in love with him.

  “Do you think you could stand to have me around?” he whispered.

  She gazed up at his face. He had that hopeful look again. Her lips curved in a smile. “Yeah, I think I could stand it.”

  “Yeah, you can stand more of this.” His head angled for a kiss.

  “Why, of course, my dear.”

  “Ouch!” He jerked.

  “Who thought biting a man’s nipple could be so painful,” she murmured into the muscular cushion of his pecs.

  “You naughty girl. Am I going to have to spank you?” He drew in a quick breath.

  She gave his cock a delicate yank and licked the offended nipple. “If you think you can catch me.”

  She giggled and almost made it to the shower door before a strong arm clamped around her waist and drew her back to cradle his rapidly rising cock against her bottom.