Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  He flipped the light off, leaving white spots dancing in her vision, but the mental image was burned into her brain. She was well aware of just how built the SEALs had made Mason. Every inch of his body was woven with lean muscle, honed from use, not just time spent in the gym. But under his workout shorts? She’d only ever imagined what he was packing.

  She heard his feet padding toward her, and she swallowed.

  He stepped into the pool of moonlight and kept coming, his erection bobbing toward her. Even in the dimness she could see the map of engorged veins across the smooth surface.

  Would it feel like a vibrator? Without the vibrating part, of course. She didn’t expect him to perform superhuman feats or anything.

  Mason closed the distance between them, completely at ease with his nudity. He looped his arms around her, his penis pressing against her abdomen, and kissed her mouth, a gentle meeting of lips. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, her desire still simmering below the surface, undisturbed by the idea of a massive cock.

  His hands slid up her back and he tugged at the clasp holding her top together. The muscles in her abdomen clenched and she squeezed her eyes shut, pouring all her want and desire into the kiss. Their arms tangled and the top fell on the floor, forgotten. Chest to chest, her nipples rubbed against the wiry hairs sprinkled over his pectorals.

  They danced over the floor until the back of her legs hit the mattress. Her balance tipped and Mason followed her down onto the bed. Even with his weight braced on either side of her, the air was forced out of her lungs.

  After months of longing. Of being in the same room—and worlds apart. The only thing separating them now was her bikini bottoms.

  Mason’s mouth found The Spot again and latched on, his tongue flicking the curiously sensitive bit of skin. She groaned as invisible fingers stroked the coil of desire deep inside her belly.

  “Hope the neighbors aren’t home,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He chuckled.

  Whatever.

  His hands plumped her breasts, thumbs swiping over her nipples. How was it she felt the caress lower? Her back arched and she closed her eyes, running her hands over his shoulders and into his hair. He scooted down, kissing her collarbone, the length of her sternum, until his head was between her breasts.

  Mason pushed her small breasts together, licking one nipple and then the other. She gasped and grabbed fistfuls of the comforter under her. He didn’t seem to mind that there wasn’t even a handful. She felt each pass of his tongue all the way to her vagina. The room was full of her moaning. She could hear herself. She was out of control—and completely under his power.

  Her feet moved restlessly against the mattress, her legs held prisoner between his knees.

  He hissed and her eyes snapped open. That didn’t sound good. He levered up, the moonlight shining off his wet lips.

  “Careful down there,” he said, squeezing her knee.

  “Sorry.” Should she just lay there? Was she moving too much?

  “Don’t be. I like knowing you want me.” He pressed a kiss to one breast then the other, his gaze on hers. His hand traveled up her inner thigh, all the way to the edge of the material covering her mound.

  She swallowed, but her heart was lodged in her throat.

  Mason shifted, wedging his knee between hers. He pressed a kiss to her ribs and stomach. She held her breath, her mind blanking out. She literally couldn’t think, not even to be nervous.

  He pushed the material between her legs aside and slid his fingers inside of her. She gasped at the coolness of his touch and kicked her free leg out to the side. He chuckled against her hip and worked his fingers in deeper, stroking the walls of her vagina.

  “Oh...God,” she muttered.

  Her eyes rolled up in her head. She braced her left foot against the bed and lifted her hips, seeking more of him. It felt right.

  “You’re so wet. Fuck.” His teeth closed around her hip, not biting, but he could.

  Mason pushed up and grabbed her bikini bottoms by the waistband. She wiggled, helping him slide off the last barrier between them. At this point, she wanted them off. He tossed the clothing over the side of the bed and knelt between her legs.

  She didn’t have time or the presence of mind to be nervous. Her entire concentration was on Mason and the way he commanded her body, the things he made her feel. Every cell in her body was attuned to him.

  He spread her labia and thrust more than just one finger into her.

  “Oh!” She shouted, fisting the sheets.

  Holy...

  Her spine bowed as ripples of pleasure shook her, robbing her of thought.

  “Hannah—did you just come again?” Was that pride in his voice?

  “I—I don’t know,” she said between pants. She’d heard of these mystic multiple orgasms, but wasn’t that something only experienced women had? She knew how to use a vibrator, but it’d never been this...intense. Was that because of Mason?

  “I think you did.” He grinned at her.

  She didn’t know if that was a good thing—or if she was supposed to have waited for him. What had Melissa said? Fingers and tongues and things had been part of the conversation but for the life of her Hannah couldn’t remember her friend’s so-called wisdom.

  “Stay right here.” Mason leaned over her, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

  He vaulted off the bed and stumbled, nearly taking out the bedside lamp. She giggled and turned to watch him. He had to have drank way more than she realized to be this relaxed. The normal Mason was wound way too tight.

  He dug around in his bag at the foot of the bed for a moment.

  “Ah-ha!”

  He stood, a box in hand.

  Condoms?

  She hoped so, because she certainly hadn’t thought about bringing any, which was a huge oversight on her part.

  He ripped the packaging open, and something crinkled.

  Hannah swallowed and jammed the pillow under her head.

  Mason tore what looked like a small packet open and dropped the wrapper. He examined the small ring in the moonlight, turning it this way and that before his hands disappeared in the shadow of his body. Her mind filled in the gaps, aided by the sound of latex stretching. Part of her wanted the lights on, to see him roll the condom on, but then that would mean the lights would be on. And he could see her. She wasn’t ready for that kind of vulnerability. In the dark she could pretend she knew what she was doing. In the light he’d know.

  His gaze slid to hers and locked.

  She stopped breathing.

  Was there something she should do? Or say? Did he know?

  Mason put one knee on the bed, then the other, crawling up the mattress. He kissed her shin, just above her knee, one thigh, the other hip, her stomach, all the way to her mouth. She clung to his shoulders, focusing on the kiss while his hands were between her legs.

  Something bigger than his finger pressed against her. She dug her nails into his shoulders, holding her breath, bracing herself for the pain everyone talked about.

  “Fuck, you’re tight,” he said between clenched teeth.

  Sorry?

  His fingers massaged her clit, eroding her defenses. Her body relaxed, she moaned and he pressed into her, a little at a time. His weight bore her down into the mattress. It was hard to breathe, but she liked it. Was that nuts?

  Any moment it was going to hurt something bad. Would Mason realize what was going on?

  He cupped her ass, tilting her pelvis and stilled.

  He pulled back just a bit and pushed in, driving a slow, steady pace into her body while all she could do was cling to him and hold on for the ride. Deeper and deeper he worked his cock into her with a steady determination. He muttered incoherent words into her hair, stroked her clit and plucked her nipples, driving her into a mindless state where all she did was feel.

  At long last he stilled, braced above her with an arm on either side of her shoulders, his p
elvis pushing her into the mattress.

  “You—okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Holy shit, you feel good.” He flexed, grinding against her, their pelvises together.

  Mason was inside her.

  All of him?

  She couldn’t imagine where the rest of him would be.

  It didn’t actually hurt. She felt...full. That was a good word for it.

  Was...that it? Were they done?

  She’d been expecting a little more, not that it wasn’t great just...anticlimactic.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He pushed a bit of hair off her face.

  “Thank you. You too.”

  You too? Seriously? Could she just crawl under the bed and die now? This would go down as the worst sex ever. She should have read a how to guide and not listened to Melissa’s “it will come naturally” talk.

  He ducked his head and kissed her, suckling at her bottom lip into his mouth. He bit down gently. Her vaginal walls tensed.

  “Hm, you like that?” he asked against her mouth.

  “I guess I do?” Heat radiated from her cheeks.

  “Mm.”

  He kissed her again, while his lower body—moved inside of her. She gasped as a zing of electricity arced through her body from head to toe. He withdrew, only to thrust inside of her. Her toes curled and her eyes rolled back into her head.

  They were not done.

  Hannah clung to Mason’s shoulders, vaguely aware the sound that wouldn’t stop was her. A better woman might be able to do something, to move, but not her. The bed shook, thump-thump-thumping against the wall. He reached up and grasped the headboard, levering up, changing the angle.

  “Oh!” She arched her back, lost in the tidal wave of sex and ohmygodyesmoreplease!

  “Go on, Hannah, take it.”

  The spiral of lust and desire came together in a cataclysmic burst of light behind her eyelids. She wailed, her body one pulsing nerve as Mason continued pumping into her, again and again, each thrust scooting her up the bed just a bit more. When she thought it couldn’t go on anymore—that she would die if he went on another second—he stilled, his cock still deep within her.

  She panted, blinking up at the sheen of sweat covering Mason’s heaving chest. She was both exhausted and invigorated at once.

  That was...that was...wow.

  Mason released his death grip on the headboard and leaned down, kissing her gently. She felt his lips curl up into a smile.

  “Do you want to use the bathroom first?” he asked.

  The—what?

  That was it? Done and over? No catching her breath?

  “Oh, I can use the one in my room.”

  “Cool.”

  He kissed her again, his tongue stroking inside her mouth, his hands in her hair. Her head was still spinning when he pushed up and reached between them. She sucked in a breath when his fingers grazed her.

  “Sorry. You’re really sensitive.”

  “Sorry,” she muttered. Was that a bad thing?

  “What? Why?” His face screwed up into something almost painful and he hissed.

  She held her breath as his soft penis slid out of her.

  “Why what?” she asked, head spinning.

  Mason sat on the edge of the bed and cupped her cheek.

  “Don’t be sorry. It just means I can get you off in all the ways.” He grinned, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing—or a very bad thing. “Hurry back, okay?”

  He bent, kissing her forehead before standing and shuffling to the bathroom. She watched him go, not daring to breathe until he disappeared around the corner.

  Hannah pushed up, her body protesting in all new ways, and swung her rubbery legs off the bed. She stood, and sat back down immediately, her knees not quite sturdy enough to hold her.

  Wow.

  Whatever she’d thought sex might be like—that was not it.

  Her hands shook, and her fingers were a little cold.

  Adrenaline. It made sense. She’d been amped up, focused on this one act.

  The toilet flushed and the tap turned on.

  She did not want to be sitting here when Mason came out, wearing nothing but vulnerability.

  Hannah shoved to her feet and teetered to the open adjoining door and hauled her rolling, toiletry bag away from its post as the glorified doorstop. The door whooshed closed behind her, closing with a barely audible snick. Thank goodness for soft-close doors.

  Her knees and hands shook all the way into her bathroom. She flipped on the light and stared in shock at her reflection. Her hair was a wreck, a complete bird’s nest, and was that a hickey on her shoulder? Her lips were swollen, her gaze was totally unfocused and here and there were angry, red marks. From what?

  She ran her hand over one at her breast.

  What had—?

  Ooooooh.

  Mason’s head between her breasts...

  The scrape of his beard...

  Well, at least it wasn’t some strange rash.

  Oh, God.

  Hannah sat down on the toilet lid and cradled her head.

  She hadn’t even asked him about diseases or infections or his sexual history. What kind of irresponsible human being had she turned into? She leaned forward, head between her knees and sucked in a deep breath. Now she got it—how women jumped into bed with someone, caught up in the moment, and wound up with a leftover party favor they didn’t want.

  She’d have to ask him. As awkward as it was bound to be, she couldn’t go through the next few days without knowing. It would eat away at her.

  That decided, she set about cleaning up, using the toilet, and brushing out the crazy mess that had become her hair. She didn’t even realize she was still naked until after the last snarl was out.

  Hannah stood back, staring at herself. She’d never minded her body. It was too long, too gangly, her breasts too small, but she was athletic, fit, and healthy. It still wasn’t a normal habit for her to stand around naked as the day she was born.

  She dug her nightgown out of her bag, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the heat still radiating off her skin.

  The v-card was gone.

  Hannah paced to the sliding glass doors and stared out at the ocean.

  Did she feel different?

  The muscles in her abdomen and between her legs were sore, but that was it. No miraculous change, no big difference.

  Virginity was just that. A title slapped on a person for the benefit of assigning value to it and nothing more.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  She swallowed and crept toward the adjoining door. She twisted the handle and it swung toward her.

  Mason stood on the other side, still naked, but his hair was damp and there was no great, intimidating erection pointed her way. A great big bubble of warmth popped deep in her chest, spreading it’s ooeygooeyness everywhere.

  Oh man...

  She clung to the door, her knees going all weak again.

  Ho-kay, she was a liar. A big fat liar.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Come here.”

  He reached for her hand, prying it off the lever, and led her to his bed. The door swung shut behind her, locking her out of her room. She couldn’t even find it in her head to care—not when Mason was looking at her like that. Whatever that was.

  She was different. Or maybe the way she felt about Mason was what was different now.

  Mason pushed the comforter and sheets down, then nudged her onto the mattress. She scooted over, making room for him. Her heart thrummed at the back of her throat as he slid in next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her closer.

  “You’re fucking perfect, ya know?” he muttered.

  She covered his hand with her trembling fingers. Standing in the next room, their sex hadn’t seemed like such a big deal, but face to face with Mason... She was screwed.

  And all they had together was a weekend.

  But her heart didn’t know that.
<
br />   “I hate to be a downer, but I don’t think that coconut drink agrees with me.” Mason wrinkled his nose.

  “It’s okay.”

  Just a weekend.

  “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he muttered.

  “No big deal.”

  Could she really get her fill of him in five days?

  No. She couldn’t, but she had to.

  Rogelio hung back and waited for the prick, Dylan, to swipe the key card. Something about this whole plan, ever since things went sideways on the pick-up, had been off. Maybe it was Dylan. The kid was way too cocky. Or maybe it was the girl. Too good to be true. Whatever it was, Rogelio was ready to grab the merchandize and split.

  The door beeped and Dylan pushed it open. Rogelio shouldered past him and squinted into the dark room.

  “Turn the fucking lights on,” Dylan whispered.

  “Don’t—”

  Too late, the idiot flipped the switches, plunging the room into fluorescent brightness.

  Rogelio stared at the bed.

  The empty bed.

  Shit.

  He’d known it was too good to be true.

  Dylan strode to the bed and threw the perfectly made bedding on the floor.

  “Where is she? Where the fuck is she?” His voice rose with each word.

  Rogelio grabbed Dylan’s arm, yanking him around.

  “Will you shut the fuck up?” Rogelio said, voice pitched low. “Where’s the man with her? Hm?”

  “What man?” Dylan glared at him.

  “You don’t even know.” Rogelio released him and muttered under his breath. “She checked in with a guy. A big dude. Probably one of the guys who helped her get her shit from your house.”

  Cruz wasn’t going to like this one bit. One hiccup could be smoothed out. Two? Someone was going to pay and it would not be Rogelio.

  “We have to get out of here,” he said.

  “No, she’ll be back. We just need to wait for her.” Dylan glared. The kid was in over his head and Rogelio wasn’t going to help him. Not after this.

  “I’m not going to wait around for her to come back. I’ve got two more girls to pick up. You wait for her.”

  Chances were, the girl was already passed out somewhere and they could find her on the hotel security cameras. It would mean doing some clean up with the tapes, but they could always swap out the footage with another camera and the same time stamp.