In Rides Trouble: Black Knights Inc.

by Julie Ann Walker

  ***

  Becky was dying.

  She wanted to rip off his jeans and impale herself on the smooth hardness she’d just held in her hands—it was either that or she was going to shimmy up his big body, wrap her legs around his head, and insist he wear her around like a government-issue gas mask. But he was determined to draw out the moment, to slow everything down when all she wanted was hard and fast and now, now, now!

  Because they were there. Finally. After all the years of wanting and denying that wanting, they were finally grabbing onto each other with both hands. Literally.

  Well, not quite literally. Frank could only use one hand, since the one in the sling was pretty much restrained from much wandering.

  “Frank,” she moaned his name, “stop stalling.”

  His deep chuckle was exhilarating given that it rumbled through her breasts where they pressed tightly against his chest. The sensation zinging across her nipples made her eyes cross.

  Okay, so scratch the gas mask idea. She’d just straddle his chest while she tickled his ribs. That’d certainly work.

  “I’m not stalling.” He ran his teeth down the column of her throat. “I’m trying to get a few facts straight.”

  “Fact one,” she said and shivered when he sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, “I want you. Fact two, you want me. Fact three, I’m not fragile. I’m not going to break, so there’s no reason for you to worry you need to be careful or that you need to hold back.” Because, yeah, she could feel him against her, so big and hard and big. And she knew Frank, his mind was going to be making sure she was okay, that he didn’t do anything to hurt her or scare her or make her uncomfortable.

  And that just wasn’t going to work.

  She didn’t want him holding back, staying in control, reining in his lust.

  She wanted him. She wanted sex. No-holds-barred sex.

  She tried to convey this by grabbing his ears and reclaiming his mouth, by boldly reaching between them to caress him.

  God, she couldn’t help but moan at the contact, he was so hot and smooth and pulsing and so completely, utterly male…

  She dipped her chin in order to look at him there, spearing unapologetically from the V of his undone jeans.

  Well, hello.

  Okay, so Frank’s goods were…fearsome. Long and thick, violently red and rock hard. The veins roping up the length of him stood out in harsh relief, the head broad and weeping.

  She went to her knees then. It’s all she could suddenly think about. Tasting him, getting her mouth around—

  “I’ll never make it,” he growled, grabbing her shoulder and hoisting her up against his chest, slamming his mouth over the top of hers until the only thing she knew was him, his hands and skin, teeth and tongue, the hot, spicy smell of hungry man filling her flaring nostrils.

  He was backing her up, edging her toward the bed, and when the back of her knees hit the mattress she grabbed his waist and twisted until it was him who fell backward onto the bed.

  With his shoulder confined to the sling, she didn’t want him straining to hold himself above her. All she wanted was for him to feel, because she knew for a fact, that’s all she was going to be doing.

  ***

  Just look at her, Frank thought as he lay back on the bed, watching her through heavy lidded eyes as she grabbed the waistband of his jeans, pulling them down over his thighs, whipping them off his feet, tossing them over her shoulder. She looks like a huntress claiming a kill.

  So fierce and proud and determined. So unapologetically female with her slim, smooth limbs, tiny little waist and flaring hips.

  “Becky, please just tell me what you want. Tell me what to do to make you feel good.” The last two words came out as a strangled growl, because she’d dropped a knee to the mattress and started climbing on top of him.

  For a brief moment, he was filled with doubt. Wondering if what he was doing was right. The answer, of course, was no, but, then again, just how wrong was it?

  Not very, because, number one, she wanted this. She’d said as much. And number two, she’d grabbed his hand and pressed it between her legs.

  It was the only kind of answer she gave him. The only kind he needed really, because yes, what he felt against his fingers was so soft and smooth and warm.

  It was also soaking wet.

  She was wet for him. For this. For whatever he could give her and, baby, he was determined to give her everything.

  Now.

  No more stalling.

  He watched her face as he slid first one finger and then another inside her, watched a blush of heat rise from her breasts to her throat to her cheeks, watched as she licked her lips then caught the lower one between her teeth.

  She was everything a woman should be. Hot and wet and wonderful. Abandoned as she raised her own hands to her breasts and lightly pinched at the hardened nipples.

  The sight went all through him, making his hungry dick jump up and down against his belly, like it was shouting, “look at me, look at me, look at me!” She caught the movement and reached down to stroke him, softly, lazily.

  She moaned at the same time he did, arching her back and opening her legs wider. With his thumb, he located the little pearl at the top of her sex. Rubbing against it, he watched, fascinated, as her color deepened.

  Sweet Lord, she was so unbelievably delicious, so completely perfect.

  “Oh Frank, I’m going to…”

  “Yeah, honey,” he growled, working his fingers faster, “come for me.”

  “No.” She shook her head and a heartbeat later—less really because he sure as hell hadn’t seen it coming—she was straddling him. Angling him toward her entrance and sinking down.

  His whole world exploded.

  With a burst of pleasure so intense he thought maybe he’d come, she impaled herself on him, surrounding him with her wet heat, taking every inch of him in one long, steady glide.

  He didn’t know if it was minutes or hours that passed as the two of them remained motionless, reveling in the sweet sensation of two bodies joining so elementally it seemed impossible they’d ever part. But then she leaned forward, kissing him, swinging her hips up only to drive them back, and two things occurred to him. One, he hadn’t come—thank God. And two, he wasn’t wearing a condom.

  He tried to tell her this very important fact as her short nails bit into his chest. She was clinging to him as if she was afraid they both might just blow apart.

  He wasn’t so sure she wasn’t right. Which was why he needed to open his goddamned mouth and—

  “Becky,” he managed to grind out, even though his eyes were crossed, his toes curled, and his brain focused, completely focused on one very specific part of his anatomy.

  It’d never felt this good. Never. Not even the first time when he was fifteen and so horny he actually thought he’d die from it.

  “Becky,” he tried again as her hair hung on either side of his face, smelling fresh and clean. For days he could have waxed poetic with descriptions of her hungry mouth and darting tongue, written sonnets about the sweet grip of her smooth thighs around his hips as she once more angled her pelvis back only to drive forward, composed symphonies about the soft smoothness of her breasts pressed against his chest, about the firm roundness of her ass gripped in his hand.

  But he didn’t have days. Because he was seconds away from coming, and that would be bad on so many levels, the worst being he wasn’t wearing a condom!

  She pulled her mouth from his. “Oh, Frank, I’m going to—”

  Yeah, he knew exactly what she was going to do, because her muscles tightened around him and if he let her…Well, he’d follow right behind her, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

  With superhuman effort, he gripped her hips and lifted her from him, ignorin
g her cry of anguish and biting down on his own tongue to stop the same when he slid from the hot heaven of her body.

  “Condom,” he managed to growl.

  They stared at each other for a few ticks of the clock, then Becky scrambled over to her bedside table and pulled out a blue rubber dildo—hello!—which she hastily tossed over her shoulder before heaving out a box of condoms.

  He didn’t know why he felt so goddamned gratified when he noticed the box was unopened.

  “New box?” he asked, just so he could hear her affirmative.

  “Not really,” she said, and he frowned. “I bought it three years ago.”

  Something wonderful and terrible exploded inside him. It was possessiveness and something more…something he refused to name.

  She ripped open one foil package and looked over at him. “I’m not sure I got the right size.”

  “It’ll fit,” he assured her.

  With stunning speed, she rolled the condom onto him, once more straddled his hips, and drove herself down his length.

  His neck arched, and he knew he should never have doubted what she wanted. Never have worried about giving her what she wanted. Rebecca Reichert wasn’t the kind of woman to wait around for a man to make the moves. She took what she wanted, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead!

  He was pressed so deeply inside her, as far as he could possibly go, and she was hanging above him, her arms braced on either side of his shoulders, her face mere inches from his.

  “If I move,” she whispered, gazing down at him, the heat in her eyes enough to make him come on the spot, “I’m gonna lose it.”

  He wished he could tell her it didn’t matter, wished he could promise he’d make her lose it a hundred times more. But that would be a lie.

  “I wish I could tell you something different, honey.” He laughed regretfully. “But you’re not even going to have to move because I’m going to come in about two seconds.”

  She groaned and then she moved and—

  “Becky,” he gasped, heaving beneath her when her inner muscles clamped down on him, pulsing and sucking and—

  Holy hell! He exploded. Lights flashed behind his eyes, his spine snapped back, his world became a kaleidoscope of sharp sensations that burst through him like electrical charges.

  He finally understood why some people referred to an orgasm as a shattering experience, because he was blown to pieces, rocketed apart and reduced to his elements, every part of him a shimmering molecule of ecstasy.

  When his body put itself back together sometime later, he opened his eyes to find Becky laying on top of him, a satisfied little smile playing at her lips.

  The wanton minx, he chuckled, gently lifting her off him, tucking her next to his side so that her cheek pillowed on his chest and he could run his fingers through her hair.

  “So, uh, what’s with the toy?” he asked.

  “Mr. Blue?”

  He couldn’t stop the snort that escaped his lips. “Is that what you call it?”

  “Yepper.” She ran her fingers through his chest hair. He could feel her mischievous grin. “Blue because, you know, he’s blue. And Mister because, well, he’s a boy. He’s been handy to have around all those times you and I went at each other, verbally that is, and then I didn’t have any way to work off the frustration.”

  He groaned at the thought of her lying in bed, using that absurdly colored toy on herself while fantasizing about him. Funny, he’d probably been three doors down doing the same thing. Oh, not using a toy. He had an experienced right hand for that, but there’d no doubt been endless times they’d both been thinking of the other while pleasuring themselves.

  The idea was sexy as hell.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, reaching beneath the covers to palm him. “Mr. Blue holds no comparison to the real thing.”

  God love the woman.

  ***

  Becky woke sometime later to feel of Frank’s large, callused fingers fluttering across her nipples.

  “Mmm,” she moaned and stretched, cracking open her eyes to glance at the clock on her bedside table. At some point, he must have gotten up to turn off the light because the red digital numbers glowed dimly in the surrounding darkness.

  “It’s three-thirty in the morning, Frank,” she mumbled, sucking in a breath when his lips closed over her left nipple. The hot spear of his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves had her eyes rolling back in her head. “You’ve got to be up in another two hours. You need to get some rest before surgery.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he grumbled, the sound strangely menacing and strangely…meaningful.

  She didn’t have time to try and figure out what that meaning was, not when he shifted closer and the hard, hot length of him pulsed against her hip. She reached down, grasping him, marveling in the silkiness of the skin she found and the marble hardness it covered.

  “Oh, that’s you,” she giggled when he groaned at the contact. “For a minute there, I thought I was in bed with a baseball bat.”

  “Mmm, very funny,” he murmured, moving to her opposite breast.

  Oh, this is perfect, she thought, stroking him softly, her womb contracting at one particularly strong pull of his lips. This is how it was always meant to be. The two of them, laughing, teasing, making love.

  Why had they waited so long?

  Okay, she knew the reason. It lived up in Lincoln Park, but she wasn’t going to think of that now. She refused to think of that…

  Tomorrow was for reality.

  Tonight…tonight was for fantasy.

  And the truth of the matter was, her fantasies didn’t come close to the reality of Frank. So big, so warm and strong. His skin was smooth—except for the hard ridge of the occasional scar. His muscles hard—no exceptions there. And his smell…

  It was the sexiest thing she’d ever encountered, because it wasn’t applied or contrived. It was all clean, healthy male, and every time she sucked in a breath, a delicious little tickle trilled through her belly.

  “No,” she complained when he pulled away, his mouth leaving her nipple and his hard penis slipping through her ambitiously working fingers. “Don’t go away.”

  “I’m not going anywhere you won’t like, honey,” his voice grumbled through the darkness. A second later, his mile-wide shoulders were pressing her legs apart.

  Oh, no. He was right about that. He certainly wasn’t going anywhere she wouldn’t like. “Mind holding this leg up so that it doesn’t bump against my shoulder?” he asked, as he pushed her knee back until it hit her chest.

  Was he kidding? She’d tie herself in a bow if that’d help him in this little endeavor.

  “Happy to oblige,” she said as she hooked a hand behind her knee, keeping her leg out of the way, “assuming that it’s, uh, gas mask time,” she finished, chuckling.

  “What?” she felt him glance up.

  “That’s what I was thinking when you first came in here, when you were just standing there, driving me crazy, touching me but barely touching me all at the same time. I was thinking if you didn’t get naked and get inside me, double quick, I was going to climb you like a cat climbs a tree, wrap my legs around your head, and make you wear me around like a government-issue gas mask.”

  “Christ, woman,” he groaned, but his chest shook between her legs, and it wasn’t long before his deep laughter echoed around the room.

  “Now if you start that, I’m going to throw you on your back, straddle your chest, and tickle your ribs until I can’t see straight.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask,” he murmured, placing a kiss on the inside of her right thigh, his breath hot, moist and altogether too far away from the spot she most desired it.

  Bull’s eye, Frank. Go for the bull’s eye.

  “Well, i
n case no one’s ever told you, when you laugh it vibrates through your chest.”

  “Still not following.” He licked another hot kiss higher up on her trembling thigh.

  Getting closer…

  “Well if I were to sit on your chest while making you laugh, it’d be like straddling a giant, furry vibra—oh!”

  Bull’s eye!

  “Forget it,” she breathed as his tongue speared into her, only to retreat and swirl at the top of her sex, tapping rhythmically against her clitoris as his thumb entered her and stroked in and out. “This is so much better.”

  “Mmm,” he growled his agreement, and the added vibration made her toes curl.

  She knew it’d be good. She’d always known it’d be good. But this…this went beyond good. Maybe the simple explanation was that it felt so much better because they’d held back for so long, or maybe they had some sort of weird chemical compatibility, some sort of animal synergy, because this was…

  “Oh, Frank, I’m going to come,” she breathed, and everything inside her tightened into a painful ball of pleasure.

  …this was transcendence!

  “Frank!” she screamed his name, curling her fingers in his hair and pressing him against her as ecstasy snapped her head back, pulsing from the base of her spine out, toward her extremities, and then rebounding back again.

  The fingers of her free hand curled in the sheets, her knees instinctively hitched higher.

  Oh, oh, oh this was going to be a good one.

  A thousand explosions detonated inside her, a thousand colors swirled behind her screwed tight lids, a thousand sounds beat against her eardrums. She’d never lost touch with her mind before, but it was gone. She was nothing. Nothing but a bundle of firing nerve endings, pulsing muscles…

  “I love the way you announce you’re about to come,” he chuckled as he started kissing his way up her body.

  Was he talking?

  Why was he talking?

  One did not speak after an orgasm like that.

  “Ah,” he murmured before sliding the head of his penis inside her. He must’ve donned a condom at some point, the crafty, multitasking sonofagun. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He kissed her, delving his tongue inside her mouth.