Blown (3 page)

I circled my clit, working it
smoothly, with precision. A few seconds later, I clenched hard around his fingers and came with a strangled moan. Mateo lurched forward, resting his weight against me, and forced his tongue into my mouth to swallow my sounds.

"God, you're good at that
," I said with a gasp. I dropped my head against the floor, my body loose and floaty in happy post-orgasm bliss.

The tell-tale sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open got my attention and I looked up. I watched as
he rolled the condom down his shaft, stroking and staring at me with an intense, heated look on his face. I licked my lips and shifted slightly, opening my legs wider. God, I wanted him inside me.

"You're so fucking hot. Damn, Roni, you have no idea what you do to me." He positioned his cock at my opening, pushing the very tip inside. He swiveled his hips, dragging through my sex and arousal.

I looked at him deliberately, one eyebrow raised, and said, "I have a pretty good idea." Then I ran a finger up the length of his cock, pausing when I reached the rim of the condom.

He laughed and grabbed my hands in his. He pinned them to the floor next to my head. And that move, the overt control and ownership, the primal declaration, was so ridiculously sexy. I was ready to combust and still he lingered at my opening.

"Please, fuck me." I gasped out the request. I couldn't help it. He was the type of guy to deprive himself, delay his own pleasure, just to torment his partner. I wasn't in the mood to be tormented. I just wanted to be fucked hard enough to feel it for days after.

He
smiled, his mouth a crooked, careless line that thrilled me, and then he pushed forward, smooth, easy, and deep. God, did he feel good inside me. He was long and wide and filled me perfectly.

"Yes." Goddamn. I wanted to say more, to exclaim and shout and beg and cry. Instead I was locked beneath him, his weight pressing against me and his mouth suddenly on mine. He kissed me slowly as he pulled out. Then he thrust his tongue into my mouth in time with his hips, fucking my mouth and my pussy at the same time.

He didn't fuck gently. He committed fully, pushing as deep as possible with every stroke, bottoming out inside me and pushing farther still until I was stretched and panting for reprieve. And I couldn't breathe with his tongue in my mouth, lapping at my lips, my tongue, my teeth. I twisted my head to the side and gulped air. He laughed and raised up slightly, only to drop his weight onto his hands, with mine pinned underneath.

"Keep these here." He pressed me heavily into the floor, showing me where to keep my hands. I nodded, light
-headed and confused about everything except the feel of him inside me.

"Good girl." And then he braced his hands against my thighs, pushing my legs open obscenely wide, his cock sliding even deeper. He
moved his hips, retracted slightly, then pressed forward.

"I'm going to fuck you now."

Everything went a little blurry. I was reduced to pure sensation, to the powerful strokes as he thrust into me. He was done playing, done teasing, and set on fucking me through the floor. Even at his primal, pounding best, though, he was still thoughtful. He took--God did he take--what he wanted while watching my reaction the whole time. He adjusted, pushed deeper, slowed, only to go faster, all exactly when I needed it.

"I'm close." He grunted, a fine slick sheen of sweat coat
ing his face and neck. I wished that I'd taken the time to get him naked. I loved the cut of his muscles, his perfect smooth skin. I wanted to lick the exertion from his chest, and bite his nipples.

I was not, however, ready for him to come. "Not yet." I gritted
my teeth while keeping my hands where he put them.

"Roni
. . ." He didn't slow his thrusts, and he kept driving into me and my body rose to meet him. Curling tension built inside me, but I wanted more.

"Not yet."

He grabbed my hips and hiked me up until only my head and shoulders touched the floor. Back arched, legs tight around his waist, I let him use me. At that angle, he went just a little deeper, touched me just a little different, and the pressure inside me spiraled. His fingers dug into my ass, kneading in counterpoint to his thrusts, jerking me forward to meet him, then pulling me back.

"I have to." He tremored inside me, his cock jerking and swelling, and I knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.

"Almost." I was so close, driven by his hard length pulsing and pushing into me. And then I was flying, let loose as my body came apart beneath him. "Now."

"Thank God." He thrust into me twice more, then held. His back, arms, legs, everything, trembled and he jerked arrhythmic
ally then collapsed on top of me, heavy and possessive. He panted into my throat, his breath hot and wet against my skin. I loved him like this, spent and exhausted and vulnerable. We stayed like that long enough for my body to cool and the rug burn on my shoulder to make itself known. It was totally worth it.

"Tell me why we ever stopped doing that."
He groaned, far more articulate than I was in that moment.

I laughed. "Conflict of interest." Specifically,
he had found my badge and gun in my purse when he was looking for a condom while I was in the bathroom. Instead of the sex I'd expected, I found him with my gun in his hands, my badge on the floor, and a very scary look on his face. After a brutally brief conversation, we decided it would be best if we went our separate ways. At the time, it seemed prudent since I didn't want to die of a bullet from my own gun. Later I'd done some basic searches and found Mateo. And then Luis. And then vomited in the trashcan next to my desk at work.

He
tensed slightly, but didn't move. "That's right. You're a cop. Why is that so easy to forget?"

"Are you kidding?" I
rubbed my hands over his shaved head. It was damp with sweat and the stubble bit against my palms. "I can't even remember my name right now."

"Good point." He kissed me, sweet and nothing at all like the needy desperate kiss from before that was all teeth and tongue. This was gentle, if a little sad.

We were amazing together. And destined to fail nonetheless.

"You can't go back to Crimson." He looked at me in the mirror, a smug, pleased smile on his face.

"No
shit." I glared at him and seriously debated the merits of smacking the hell out of him. It wouldn't have done anything to get rid of the damn smirk, so I took another route. I refused to look at him, instead focusing on the giant damn hickey he'd left on my neck. It was low on the right side, and if I'd been wearing a normal shirt, instead of this damned spaghetti strap top, it wouldn't have been visible. Regardless, it was huge and dark purple and the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen. On second thought, I really did want to hit him. So I did.

"Hey, hey, settle down."
He held my hands in his and pulled me against his chest.

"Who the fuck does
that
? What are you? Twelve?" Because seriously, the last time I had a hickey on my neck, I was in middle school. Shit, I didn't even remember him kissing my neck, let alone sucking it hard enough to mark me like that.

"I'm sorry?"
His grin said he really wasn't and I wanted to hit him again. I tried to jerk my hand from his grip, but he just held me tighter and fucking laughed.

"This isn't a fucking game, Mateo!"

That got rid of his smile. "I know that. I'm trying to keep you from getting killed."

"You can't keep me from doing my job."

"No, but I can keep you from climbing into Crimson's bed." He threw my hands down and turned away. Two steps and he punched a giant fucking hole in the wall. Luis wouldn't like that, I was sure.

"You're jealous."

"Shut up."

"You are. But you shouldn't be." This wasn't going to turn into a big declaration of love because, hello! it wasn't love. But I'd been with enough men to know that Mateo was special. He did amazing things to my body that had more to do with chemistry than technique and this little display of insecurity was both endearing and nauseating. I
knew
he felt what I did. He should be more confident. I wouldn't care who I saw him with, it wouldn't piss me off like this, because I knew we were, for lack of a better word, special together.

"You're saying you wouldn't care if it were me?"

"If you were hanging off some nasty skank who's no threat? No, I wouldn't." I would make sure he was well stocked with condoms because, hey, STD's are not good. "You really think that Crimson makes me feel anything except a need for antiseptic?"

He
made a noise that was half grunt, half fuck you. "I don't know how he could."

I decided then that he was being kind of adorable, so I placed my palm flat against his shoulder blade and held it there. The muscles twitched beneath my hand.

"Then what are you worried about?"

He took a deep breath and re
leased it. His shoulders sagged just a little. That made me sad. He turned and took my hand in his, but didn't look at me. When he did that heavy inhale-exhale thing for what felt like the tenth time, I came damn close to smacking him again.

"What?"

"It's not like. . ." He swallowed and squeezed my hand a little harder. "I'm not stupid. I know I don't get to keep you, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. And it doesn't mean I want to see you with anyone else. Especially a dude like Crimson."

That little confession, all hearts and puppy dogs, was exactly the kind of thing that most women were dying to hear a man say. Especially a man like Mateo who followed the
all important rule that the woman always comes first. That didn't mean I wanted to hear it. He was steadily working his way onto America's Most Wanted and I was a fucking cop. Orgasms were fine. Proclamations of almost-love left me squarely in the land of
what the fuck
?

I shook my head and went back to looking at my neck in the mirror. The hickey was just as big as it had been a few minutes ago. "Fuck you. You don't get to dictate my life."

"I
know
that." He almost shouted and I was pretty sure another hole was in store for the wall. I closed my eyes and braced for it, but it never came. When I looked, he was sitting on the small sofa, rubbing his hands over his head.

I grabbed my compact out of my purse and checked the time. I'd been gone far too long and there really wasn't enough makeup in the world to cover up what Mateo had done to me. I gave up and sat next to him.

"What do you want to do?" I asked it as gently as I could. Yes, he was weirdly upset, but I was equally pissed.

"I'm going to help you, but you have to let me do it my way."

"What does that mean?"

"No more Crimson. And what do you need? To know where he's cooking? Or where he's meeting up with his boss or what?"

"Any of those would do." I smiled stupidly at him because he really was sweet and I understood exactly how big a chance he was taking here. I was about to kiss him because, hey I'd just had two orgasms, but I was totally up for another. Before I could, a loud bang sounded on the door, followed by yelling.