Undercover Lover (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Jane Leopold Quinn

  “Oh!” His teeth raked her nipple, then he soothed it with the wet, silky heat of his mouth. She tightened her grip in his thick hair, imprisoning his head with a frenzied strength. “Yesss.”

  Acute sensations connected her nipples and sheath, flooded her nerve endings. She whimpered when he pushed her away, not understanding why.

  Abruptly, he stood her up between his knees and roughly tugged her pants down.

  “Oh, shit, a thong,” he intoned reverently. “God damn…”

  “Sam.” she moaned, a thick finger spearing inside her. Then, two. Or three? “OhGodohGod.” She bore down, her thrusting hips begging for more. He pumped slowly, deeply, filling her, twitching his fingers inside her, grunting with every thrust. He continued drawing on her nipples while his fingers stayed buried far up inside her. The wet, sucking sounds and the scent of her juices infusing the air aroused her more. She shuddered in counterpoint to his thrusts, faster and faster. “Please…” she chanted.

  “Easy, baby. I’ll get you there.”

  “Oh, damn,” she sobbed.

  His thumb slid against the underside of her clit, along one side, then the other. Up and down, round and round until she stiffened and cried out at the beginning of her orgasm. The walls of her vagina violently clenched around his fingers relentlessly massaging the sensitive spot deep inside.

  A scream locked in her lungs, guttural moans coming out instead. His mouth closed again over hers, suckling her tongue, pulling her cries into his mouth. She rocked in his arms, clutched his hair. He lavished her mouth with kisses, his lips soft and moist, slipping back and forth over hers. When she fell limply against him, his fingers left her body. She wanted more. As if he did too, he picked her up and carried her up the spiral stairs to her bedroom. Without hitting her on the metal. Very talented.

  Chapter 7

  Sam high fived himself at giving her devastating orgasm. Settling her on the bed, he stood over her, taking a good long look. He grinned. She was wrecked, almost naked except for her slacks and the scrap of lacy thong wrapped around her knees.

  “Baby,” he murmured, pulling them off. “Your breasts…”

  Her chest expanded shakily as she lowered her eyes to her own breasts. When she looked up again, he was mesmerized by her astonishingly light eyes. Glazed eyes that she closed in passion.

  “…are awesome,” he finished.

  Her eyes lazily opened, and she giggled. “Awesome?”

  Shit. Awesome. What are you? Fourteen?

  “Yeah, awesome.” He quirked a grin. She affected him in ways he thought long gone. Moonlight shone through the window, the pearly glow of her breasts and belly contrasting with dark nipples all pointy tight. She was so much more beautiful in person and in the flesh.

  He watched as he brushed a knuckle into her belly button and over the gentle swell of her belly to the dark, curly hair between her thighs. “What a pretty pussy,” he murmured.

  She moaned, her hips surging.

  Caressing, gently yanking the strands, he curved his fingers into her crease, swirling them around her clit, plying her hot cream through the furrow, and wetting every inch. So much wetness. He marveled at her amazing responsiveness. His middle finger circled her opening and slipped inside. “Ahh…” He almost wept at the feeling. His lips parted, his eyes closed at the pleasure in her sheath, still all wet and soft from before. She convulsed around his finger, again, so soon. Still.

  She gasped sharply, turning it into a rough, sustained moan. Shifting restlessly, her hips bucked. “Sam, yesss.”

  He drew his finger out. She panted when he slid it over the bud, burrowing two drenched fingers along each side of her clit. She wasn’t done.

  Good. Neither was he.

  She gripped the sleeves of his shirt. “More…” she growled, whispery soft.

  Christ.

  “Undress me, honey,” he ordered. “Take my shirt off.” He fingered her clit again for incentive.

  She whimpered, her mouth opening wide.

  “Don’t worry, baby.” She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head in distress. “I’ll come back. That’s a promise.”

  Unsteadily, she sat up and knelt on the bed in front of him. Her hands shook, her upper teeth nipped at her lower lip, but she unbuttoned his shirt without a fumble. Sliding it off his shoulders, she splayed her fingers caressingly over his chest, pressing and flicking his nipples, plucking them with sharp fingernails.

  “Jesus.” He angled his head so he could gaze down his nose and watch her in action. Her tongue snaked out, and she took turns suckling each flat, sensation-loaded point into her mouth. He shuddered, his belly muscles jerking at the almost unbearable pleasure. She paused, peering up at him from inches away, those light eyes luminously sparkling. He gazed back, breathing like a racehorse through flared nostrils. Apparently, she liked what she saw, because she bent again and tongued him. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. God, he didn’t remember it feeling so good. Tipping his head back, he groaned loudly when she bit one button center and rocked it between her teeth.

  “Liz…” He burrowed his hands on her nape, under her hair, and cupped her head, urging her gaze up to his. “Take off my pants. Now.” He stood, kicked off his boots while she unbuckled his belt and unzipped him. His jeans dropped like stones.

  She didn’t hesitate, first tracing questing fingertips over the erection straining the front of his black cotton briefs, then wrapping her hand firmly around his prick.

  “…feels good.”

  She slid her hands around his hips, catching in the elastic waistband.

  He groaned at the loss of her hot fingers on his hotter cock. “Baby…”

  When his shorts went downward, his cock sprang out. He felt seared hot and rigid as a telephone pole. “Fuck, baby.” Yeah, he needed to fuck her fast. But something kept him from pushing her back onto the bed. He had to see what she’d do next.

  She took his cock in both hands, held it tightly, rolled it between her palms. He watched her soft, white hands circle his blood-engorged prick. It felt so good he wanted to bawl.

  “Shit…” His breathing quickened and he begged, “Suck me…” Some women didn’t like to do it, but God, he wanted to fuck her mouth, wanted to watch her take it deep, wanted to feel her hot tongue playing with him. His pulse raced with anticipation. “Please, baby, I want to see your sweet mouth around my cock.”

  She gave a little sob then glanced up at him, her mouth open and ready for him. The tip of her tongue wetted her lips, maybe to tease him? His hips thrust involuntarily.

  “You want me to suck you? Like this?” she crooned, her voice soft and breathy. She extended her tongue to touch the tip of his cock, catching the drop of pearly fluid oozing there.

  He inhaled sharply and groaned. His cock throbbed, becoming stiffer than he would have thought possible. “Yeah, please.”

  She licked her lips.

  He closed his eyes briefly at the exquisite anticipation but snapped them open. He didn’t want to miss a second of this. Gazing expectantly down the flat plane of his body, he locked his knees. It wouldn’t do to fall down now.

  “I’m going to slide your cock in my mouth,” she whispered the promise. “And suck you.” Then with a soft, very erotic cry, she enclosed the wide head between her lips and swirled her tongue over the tip, around and around, dipping into the slit.

  “Jesus.” It wasn’t a prayer. Well, maybe it was. A prayer that she wouldn’t stop the shockingly intense, sensual blow job. She buried him as far as she could, worked wetly and noisily at the length of his shaft, her head bobbing until he lost his mind. Her tongue tortured him, twitching over the sensitive vein along the underside of his dick. He removed one of his hands from her scalp and circled the base of his cock. He had to squeeze himself, the pressure unbearable.

  She pried his hand off and replaced it with both of hers, clasping the shaft, swirling her tongue over his cock head.

  “Jesus, my balls,” he gasped,
gripping her scalp with both hands.

  So good at following directions, she gently plumped his nuts in the warm cradle of her hand.

  “God damn. You little witch.” His voice rasped, his heart pounded wildly, dizzying him as the blood drained from his brain to his cock, pooling and broiling in his groin. Her head bobbed intermittently, suctioning fiercely then gently tonguing the slit. He didn’t know what she’d do next.

  “Baby…unh…oh God…” His hips jerking, he twined his fingers tightly in her hair, panting loudly. Semen churned from deep inside his balls up through his shaft, and, with excruciating intensity, shot blistering, thick cum down her throat.

  Roaring, he thought he’d never stop coming. And, God love her, she took what felt like every gallon of it, her suctioning and circling tongue continuing to torment him. Her palm followed his rapidly tightening balls until she held them securely against his groin, fingers massaging the sensitive spot behind them. “God damn,” he exclaimed in a shaky, husky voice. “You don’t have to swallow it, honey.” He gently caressed her cheeks. “Just spit it out. I’ll clean it up…holy, sweet God…” Clinging to his cock, she breathed rapidly through her nose, the faint whistling causing his body to buck at another surge of pleasure. But he had nothing more to shoot.

  Her mouth slowly slid off his tender cock, that feeling re-igniting his arousal. The hand holding his balls opened and dropped slowly to caress his inner thigh.

  She buried her face against his thigh, and in a hushed voice said, “I don’t need to spit it out.”

  Say what? She swallowed…?

  He dropped to his knees and cupped her shoulders. “Liz, baby…” He still wasn’t in control of his voice.

  She slid her fingers through her hair, holding it back. Eyes wide, she peered dazedly at him.

  “Damn!” He hadn’t had a blow job in a long time and never one this good.

  She whimpered, her face contorted.

  He tipped up her chin. “What’s wrong?”

  “It…w-was… Oh, Sam,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck, bringing her body up until the softness of her breasts collided with his hard chest.

  He gathered her shivering body in a possessive embrace. “Baby.” He kissed the top of her head, her ear, the side of her neck. She dug at his shoulders, her sharp nails scoring him. He nibbled his way along her jaw and up to her salty, wet lips. “Don’t cry.” Her lips grazed against his.

  “God, that was good.” Christ. Just let me get the sonofabitch up again. Soon.

  “Your turn, sweetheart.” Reaching behind her, he pulled off the quilt, and pushed her down onto the sheets. He stretched out over her and kissed her again. The earthy taste of his cum, the carnal scent of him on her skin aroused him. Not that he needed any help in that department. He deepened his kiss, his tongue swiping in every corner of her mouth, thoroughly possessing her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so enthralled by a woman’s lips before.

  God, he needed to sleep, but he wanted to show his appreciation. Kneeling between her legs, ass resting on his heels, he hiked up her knees. Caressingly kneading her sleek inner thighs, he opened them to the sight he’d been hungering for. In the dark, he imagined her swollen clit throbbing like his cock. She cried out when his fingers speared through her molten juices, his thumbs capturing the sweet little nub and stroking it.

  “Oh, Sam, yes…” Her hips jerked. She met his gaze, her mouth open, silently pleading for more.

  He groaned at her aroused female musky scent. Circling her hole with his forefinger, he dipped it in shallowly once, twice, keeping his movements random, becoming addicted. Toying with her. Wanting to fuck her. Please, God, let him be ready. His finger burrowed in deeper. He watched it, swirled it around just inside the rim of her vagina, felt her muscles clamp on.

  “Jesus, baby.”

  She moaned when he drew her clit into his mouth. Suckling, swallowing her juices, he stroked her with his tongue, increasing the friction when he felt her body stiffen.

  “God, Sam, please…please come inside me,” she begged.

  He could not believe how hard he was, how fast he’d recovered. Widening her thighs, he lifted them over his arms. In the space of a heartbeat, he thrust into her--one smooth, long plunge until their short and curlies mingled. Until his balls slapped her bottom. “Yeah, baby.” He couldn’t hold back a guttural groan, arching his back and suspending motion, locked inside her, his eyes screwed shut.

  God, she was tight. He didn’t know how long he could last. Her passage pulsated, clutching him.

  “God, Sam. You’re so…big.”

  Gasping on a proud chuckle, he bumped her hips up higher.

  “Yessss,” she cried.

  He didn’t think he could go any deeper, but his cock lengthened. She held him in, her silken sheath contracting, milking his dick.

  She swiveled her hips, and grabbed the backs of her thighs pulling them higher. “More.”

  The sound of her order did it. It had been too long. She wanted him to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her. He slowly pulled out.

  Her head rolled back and forth on the pillow, her face contorted in agony. “No, no…”

  He groaned, thrusting back in, plunging to the hilt. In pure reflex, his hips rolled and pumped, driving again and again.

  Deafened by the blood pounding in his ears, nothing mattered but the feel of every exquisite, slippery inch of her sheath gripping and pulsating around his cock. “Now…now,” he murmured. He pulsed, filling her deeply in a searing explosive release.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed, his voice distressingly raw.

  Holy God in heaven!

  He’d come inside her. No condom. He collapsed on top of her. Her eyes opened in shock at his weight. He immediately rolled them to their sides, still connected.

  Shitshitshit!

  He berated himself, and still he cuddled her closer until her soft moans calmed and her breathing evened.

  If I’m so devastated, then why don’t I pull out?

  Chapter 8

  Rumbles of thunder woke Sam before dawn. He crawled out of Liz’s bed and stood for a minute gazing down at the sleeping woman. Lush and warm sprawled on her stomach, her long legs stretched from her sweet, round bottom and tempted him to crawl right back in. Her ass invited nibbling, and he’d done plenty of that during the night. He didn’t want to leave.

  It had been like a fantasy, an orgy of pleasure. One of those Penthouse Forum letters: spy on beautiful woman masturbating, plot to meet her, stroke every inch of her soft body to orgasm.

  He closed his eyes, reliving that moment when she took him in her mouth, that moment when he became most vulnerable. A guy never knew how it would turn out. Some said there was no such thing as a bad blow job. Well, that’s true, but there were variations. When she sucked him off, nothing had ever been like that before. His cock throbbed hungrily, hardening inconveniently.

  Not now.

  She rolled restlessly to her side then unconsciously scootched away from the wet spot on the bed.

  God, what did I do?

  No condom. The whole night—no condom. What an idiot. The first time had been a mistake, the rest of the times just God damn stupid. What had he been thinking to put both of them at risk? He’d wanted her so much, had been overwhelmed from the moment he saw her, so consumed with lust. They’d just met, but the mugging, their date—all somehow speeded up their intimacy.

  Ugh. Now I’m getting into girlie words. I have to get out of here.

  He carefully pulled the comforter over her, reluctantly giving up the view of her pretty ass.

  He had a buy, and if he didn’t leave now, he’d never make it.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  So he left her a note. “I’m sorry,” it said. “I didn’t use a condom. We’ll talk later. I’ve got to go to work.” Creeping down the spiral stairs, bitching to himself, he acknowledged this was the first time in his life, outside of marriage, he’d done it without protection. She’d been fantastic
, and he was a bastard.

  He didn’t want to shower when he got back to his apartment to change clothes, the scent of her on his body too potent. He wanted to carry it around with him all day to remind him he was human. To remind him of the other side of life, the side without drug dealers and guns and death.

  Jeans, cowboy boots, T-shirt, denim jacket, and Sox cap represented his undercover persona. He wore a holstered .45 service revolver on his right hip hidden by the jacket. His .38 caliber snub-nose, five-shot was clipped inside his waistband on the left side. He tucked his police star inside his boot. The fantasy-come-true of fucking Liz had distracted him, but now, in real life, he had a job to do.

  He never parked anywhere nearby his home. After slipping from the back door of the Victorian, he jogged the four blocks in the drizzling rain to pick it up. On the way, he reviewed his plan.

  KISS. Keep it simple stupid. Meet up with the drug carrier and identify the money man. The plan wasn’t to rush to arrest the mules, he needed to get closer to the dealer. Going it alone, without police backup, was not only dangerous, but a career killer, against all established procedure. But he had his reasons. Maybe the wrong ones, but they were personal. One way or the other, he intended to take down the dealer who’d put Petey in a coma. He thought of those old Western wanted posters. “Wanted dead or alive.” Dead came first for a reason.

  Then maybe he could get on with his life.

  * * * *

  “Madison, you’re late.”

  “Parking.” Sam threw out the offhanded remark when he strode through the front door of the dingy diner. Even criminals had to deal with traffic and parking. Tommy Kane, looking like a nerdy accountant type with his short, greasy hair, had all the brains and money needed to be the boss. Kane’s innocent sounding name completely misrepresented him. But then his own undercover name, Sam Madison, didn’t sound too terrifying either. You’d think they were just two buddies out for a good time, but they carried cut narcotics for delivery to the money man.