Get Your Sexy On

by Kimberky Kaye Terry

Éven your pussy smells good, damn!µ The scent of her cunt was a heady mixture of sex, lust, and

  her natural womanly smell. An addictive, intoxicating aroma.

  He spread her thighs wide and centered himself between them, to better angle his mouth. To better

  angle himself so he could get at her sweet snatch.

  He ground his entire face into her pussy and ground his body into the sheets as he devoured her. He

  hoped like hell he wasn·t scaring her as he rutted his face against her cunt, but he couldn·t stop himself³

  even if he wanted. Her pussy was so juicy, so good and sweet. Her smell was heady, overwhelming.

  He felt like a starving man at a buffet, the need to devour her was surreal.

  He felt like a damn animal.

  He grunted, thinking he was even growling like a damn animal, but he loved pleasuring her, making

  her moan and writhe as he catered to her. His thrusts into the bed became stronger as he ate her.

  His heart thudded heavily against his chest as she held on to his head, keeping him

  centered where

  she wanted him, where he

  wanted to be. He grabbed each side of her thighs, forced her impossibly wider,

  and fucked her with his mouth, pumping his body hard into the sheets.

  She yelled and screamed out her pleasure, her body shaking wildly, her arms flailing around her body.

  He felt the moment the orgasm violently rocked into her.

  At that same time, in one final thrust of his tongue deep into her core, he ground his body into the

  mattress, his cum jetting from his body in nearly painful spurts as he spent himself on the sheets.

  28

  ´W e need Runninghorse.µ

  Mac leaned back against the kitchen chair and rubbed his temple, massaging away the headache that

  had been hovering for the last few hours.

  ´Yeah, you·re probably right.

  Just a matter of him being available,µ Mac answered, and shoved the

  chair back and stood, rotating his back as he stretched.

  Í already checked. I called him on the way over. He·s back from his last mission. Taking some time

  off, he said.µ

  Mac grunted out a laugh. Trust that Kyle had already done a recon on the situation.

  ´Question is, will he be willing to help?µ Kyle asked.

  Mac didn·t answer, knowing the answer already. Mac hadn·t ever called in the favor Runninghorse owed him. Once during their time in Afghanistan, he and Runninghorse had gotten caught in rebel

  crossfire. Runninghorse had taken a bullet in his leg, that, although not fatal, had disabled him. Had Mac

  not thrown him over his shoulder and run like hell toward their HumVee military vehicle, the rebels would

  have finished him off.

  He·d woken a couple of hours ago, Sienna·s body snuggled against his. He·d eased his body away from

  hers and sat on the edge of the bed.

  She·d murmured in her sleep, and he·d leaned down and

  placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, telling

  her to go back to sleep.

  With a sleepy murmur of

  consent, she·d relaxed her body, one small hand lying beneath her cheek,

  and fallen back into slumber.

  Standing over her for several minutes, he let his possessive eyes travel over her face and body. In

  sleep, her face was relaxed, free from the lines of worry he·d noticed bracketing her mouth.

  She looked

  innocent, trusting, as she lay curled around the pillow he·d used.

  He·d left the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him, and made his way to her kitchen.

  He·d

  soon called Kyle, briefing him on the situation and sharing the directions to Sienna·s home.

  Now he and Kyle had set up laptops and mugs of coffee on her kitchen table, creating a makeshift

  office space.

  He glanced over at the time flickering on her oven clock.

  Although it was near midnight, Mac didn·t

  see them going to bed anytime soon.

  Ís he in country or did he vamp?µ Mac asked.

  Whenever he ended a mission, Runninghorse had a tendency to leave the country, or simply go ghost,

  going wherever, no one knew.

  Neither did they have a way to contact him when he·d

  disappear.

  But, without fail, when it was time, he·d contact you if you needed him. The man had an eerie ability

  to know when he was needed.

  Like Kyle, Mac and

  Runninghorse went back to his days in the U.S. Army. He and Runninghorse both

  enlisted with the recruiter in Hampton, although they hadn·t known one another prior to the day they

  signed up. Both had arrived at the Fort Dix Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS), Special Forces

  division.

  Whereas he and Kyle had been battle buddies, Runninghorse had been a loner. He·d been assigned a

  buddy when he first entered the army, as all had been in the Special Forces unit they·d been assigned to.

  After that soldier had been killed during a simple recon mission, one that had turned bloody and

  violent, Runninghorse went solo, rejecting each new ´buddyµ sent his way. In the end, the

  battalion

  commander had instructed the unit commander not to assign him any more partners.

  Which seemed to be exactly what Runninghorse wanted.

  He·d stayed on with the unit, even after Mac and Kyle left.

  Recently he had retired and entered into

  service with the FBI as an agent in a specialty unit that dealt primarily with closed-in case files, crimes that

  had gone unsolved for years.

  But Mac knew there was more to Runninghorse·s job

  description, as well as his specialty unit, than

  what was public information.

  ´Did he say how soon he could arrive?µ

  Ńo. But knowing Runninghorse, I wouldn·t be surprised if he came tonight.µ Kyle laughed at the same

  time that the doorbell rang, and both men stared at each other, stupefied.

  ´What the hell? No fucking way!

  Not even Runninghorse can travel that damn fast! Did he say where

  he was when you spoke?µ Mac asked as both men swiftly walked to the door.

  Ńope. I don·t even know where he calls home these days.

  Somewhere on the East Coast, I thought,µ

  Kyle said, shrugging his

  shoulders.

  Mac·s hand automatically went around his waist, his hand resting on his weapon, before he opened

  the door. He·d felt naked without his gun, and rarely was without it.

  He hadn·t taken it to the school, didn·t want to get frisked and asked a bunch of questions.

  He·d been

  so violent after seeing Sienna dancing for Marks, it was a good thing he hadn·t had it. He might have gone

  out searching for the man.

  Mac had asked Kyle to pick up his weapon at his home before he·d come over. He had no intention of

  leaving Sienna·s side, with the new threat she faced. And with the company that hood kept, he was damn

  sure not going without his piece.

  He cautiously opened the door, prepared to see either

  Runninghorse·s solemn face or Marks·s, and

  was thrown when a pimply-

  faced kid, with a huge pizza in his arms, stood on Sienna·s doorstep, chewing

  gum.

  Śomebody order an extra large pepperoni with extra cheese?µ

  Mac turned to Kyle. ´You order pizza?µ

  With a sheepish grin and shrug, Kyle withdrew his wallet from his pants. ´Guess I forgot,µ he mumbled.

  He paid the kid, tipping him generously before taking the box from his hands.


  Ánd since when did you start eating pizza?µ Mac grabbed the box from Kyle and walked to the kitchen, throwing the box on the counter, before going to the glassed hutch in the corner of the room and

  removing two plates.

  Śince when did you start using china for pizza?µ Kyle asked with one brow raised. Mac looked at the

  delicate floral plate in his hand.

  He wouldn·t have noticed

  anything strange about it, had Kyle not pointed it

  out.

  Á plate·s a plate«. Who gives a shit if it has flowers on it?µ

  Śienna will. Trust me. Women care about shit like that. This is her ¶good china.· The kind of dinnerware reserved for

  holidays, dinner parties, and important people,µ Kyle said, taking the plates from

  Mac·s hand and returning them to the glass shelf. He walked over to her overhead cabinets and searched

  until he found what he was looking for.

  He grunted in satisfaction and placed two plates, obviously less expensive, printed with a floral design,

  on the counter.

  ´Whatever. A plate·s a plate, just like I said.µ

  ´This is why I get all the ladies, and you don·t.µ Kyle laughed.

  Ĺike I said«whatever.µ

  After digging into the pizza, they returned to work. Kyle, on the laptop, was doggedly searching for

  articles online, police reports, anything that mentioned Damian Marks.

  Garrett was searching online, going to the chat groups he would frequent when he was on an

  assignment, using various aliases, posing as another creep on the make, looking to score.

  Í·m not picking up anything.

  Sent a bunch of messages out.

  Nothing,µ Mac said, rolling his neck to

  ease the knot of tension.

  ´Maybe you·re using the wrong lure. Go in as a woman.µ

  ´Yeah, did that. No bites yet,µ he said, his eyes scanning the message board, his fingers typing out a

  message.

  Garrett stood and stretched.

  Peering at his laptop screen, his partner leaned over his shoulder and let out a choked laugh.

  ´Vivilicious?µ

  Mac felt heat wash his face, the tips of his ears burning. ´Yeah.

  Once had a girlfriend named Vivian.

  That was, uh, my nickname for her. She used to want me to call her that while, uh«µ

  Óh, hell no! You calling out sex names during the heat of the moment? That·s too damn

  funny!µ Kyle

  laughed, and Mac shoved him away and returned his attention to cyberspace and typed in another

  message.

  Vivilicious: Looking 4 ways to make $ dancing. Free-lance gigs are my fav. Anyone got info?

  No bites. But he knew he·d get inundated with responses soon.

  Whenever he posed as

  ´Vivilicious,µ he

  usually did. His online persona,

  ´Viv,µ was a good-time girl. No questions asked. She wanted good times

  and fast cash. At least, that was the persona he·d carefully cultivated since adding her to his lineup.

  She·d come through on more than one occasion for him, getting him inside info he couldn·t have

  gotten elsewhere.

  ´Damn, man, I·m beat. Let·s pick this up tomorrow,µ Kyle said, and Mac glanced up from the monitor.

  ´Yeah, I guess. May as well. I didn·t come up with anything worth a damn thing,µ he said in disgust,

  pushing back from the table.

  ´Did you?µ

  Kyle stood and arched his back, yawning. Ńaw. Nothing. Maybe when Runninghorse gets here, he

  can get us intel we can·t get.µ

  He picked up the plates and went to the small kitchen sink and rinsed them,

  before placing them in the wire dish rack.

  ´You·re the cleanest straight dude I·ve ever met,µ Mac

  commented, rising from the table.

  ´My mama didn·t raise a slob.µ

  Kyle laughed, wiping his hands on the dishrag draped over the faucet.

  ´Besides, man, when you grow up with five women, you learn a few things.µ

  ´You know, I don·t think Sienna should go.µ Mac·s thoughts were tuned in to Sienna, and not on the

  reason for his partner·s anal habits.

  ´To the yacht?µ

  ´Yeah. I want to keep her out of it. If there·s any way we can. I think we can get this guy without her

  being involved.µ

  Kyle looked thoughtful, before answering, ´How·re we going to do that?µ

  Mac ran a hand over his hair, his normal MO when frustrated or thinking.

  ´Don·t know. But with

  Runninghorse·s help, we get the surveillance up that we need, Sienna can stay

  home. She won·t have to see this asshole or worry about him popping up in her life ever again,µ he

  finished grimly.

  ´Might work,µ Kyle agreed.

  ´Yeah, it can. We need

  Runninghorse, though, for it to work. To get the info we need to nab Marks·s

  ass, find out what he·s up to.µ

  ´We have a week to get the ball rolling, right?µ

  ´Yeah, the party is going down next Saturday.µ

  ´You coming into the office tomorrow?µ Kyle asked.

  Ńo. I think I·m going to set up an office here. Until this shit is over, I don·t want Sienna alone.µ

  ´What does Sienna have to say about that?µ

  Śhe doesn·t have any say in it.

  I·m not leaving her alone until this shit is over.µ

  Óh, it·s like that, huh?µ Kyle laughed knowingly.

  ´Don·t know what you·re talking about. I·m staying just to protect her, nothing personal about it.µ

  Ńothing personal, huh? Okay, keep on telling yourself that and maybe you·ll convince

  somebody. Did

  you ask her what she thought?µ

  Ńo, he didn·t.µ

  Both men turned. Sienna stood in the door, arms wrapped around her body, wearing Mac·s discarded

  T-shirt.

  Although the shirt ended near her knees, Mac jumped up and walked over to her, standing in front of

  her to hide her from Kyle·s amused, interested gaze.

  ´Baby, what are you doing up?

  You should be asleep.µ He reached a hand out and ran it alongside

  her cheek.

  ´Yeah, nothing personal.µ

  Mac ignored his partner·s taunt.

  Í·m fine, Mac. What do you mean you·re staying here? We never talked about that.µ She stared up at

  him, her big eyes questioning.

  Ít·s late«or early. Whichever way you want to look at it, I·d better go. Looks like you two need to

  discuss a few things.µ Kyle stood directly behind Mac as he spoke. Í·ll see you tomorrow, Mac.µ

  Sienna looked around Mac·s large, obstructing body and stared at the handsome man standing directly

  behind him.

  ´Kyle, Kyle Hanley. I·m Mac·s partner.µ

  ´Hello, Mr. Hanley.µ

  ´You don·t have to be formal with me, Ms. Featherstone. Kyle is fine,µ he said, reaching a hand out to

  shake hers, shoving Mac to the side.

  When Mac barely moved, Sienna wasn·t surprised. His body was a mirror of his bull-like

  personality.

  Ćall me Sienna,µ she said, smiling as she shook his hand.

  Ĺook, I·d better go. Got a full day ahead, tomorrow,µ Kyle said, and turned to Mac. ´You want me

  here tomorrow?µ

  ´Yeah, I·ll call you in the morning. You can go to the office first, pick up what you need. Meet me back

  here around nine or so.µ

  Mac caught the way one of Sienna·s eyebrows rose; yet she said nothing as they walked Kyle to the

  front door.

  Ít was nice meeting you,

&nbs
p; Sienna. I·ll see you tomorrow, Mac,µ he said, and left.

  After Kyle left, Mac turned to her. When he saw her staring up at him, one hand on her hip, he knew

  he was in trouble. He ran his hand down the back of his neck.

  Śo you wanna tell me what your friend was talking about.

  Since when did you decide that you were

  going to stay with me? Even if it·s nothing personal.µ

  29

  W ith satisfaction, she saw him flinch when she threw his words back at him.

  Í think it·s best until this is over for me to stay with you.µ

  Sienna walked into the kitchen, leaving him to follow her. ´Want something to drink?µ she asked.

  ´There·s more coffee in the pot.µ

  Ít·s too early for me to drink coffee,µ she replied, opening the refrigerator door.

  Ńo. I·m fine.µ

  Mac leaned against the counter, warily watching her choose a dish, pour milk into a tumbler, grab a

  cookie from the jar, and sit down in one of the high-backed island chairs.

  After dunking the Oreo, she delicately took a bite of the cookie, munching on it before taking a drink

  of milk.

  Mac walked farther into the room and stopped in front of her.

  Í don·t like that Marks hunted you out.

  Why the hell does he want you for this ¶entertaining·? I·m sure he could find any number of women to do

  it.µ

  ´Hmmmµ was all she said as she continued to munch on a cookie, never looking his way.

  ´You·ve dealt with the man, you should know that he·s a snake.

  There·s more to this than meets the

  eye. I don·t think it·s safe for you to be alone, until this is over.µ

  She said nothing, again. Didn·t even look his way.

  Áre you okay with me staying?µ

  he finally asked into the silence.

  She placed her cookie down and gave him a look. One brow raised, head cocked to the side, hand on

  hip, ´mouth pursed outµ type of look.

  The universal look women gave to men when they were