Navy SEALs Complete Series: 3 Books + 3 Novellas (Tempting Navy SEALs) (93 page)

She was desperate. He kept licking around it, building it higher. She could only go so high, then,
phfft
, it was just over. A violent ache that lasted for days and no relief. She would kill. She swore she’d shoot him with his own gun.

Then two fingers slid into her pussy. Not just slid in,
thrust in, filled her, fucked into her with deep, hard strokes as his mouth covered her clit, sucking and licking,
right there
.

She screamed into the pillow. She bucked and jerked, twisted and exploded with such force she swore she felt her mind dissolve. It was exploding, melting, heat was lashing at it and disintegrating it, as the most deliriously violent orgasm of her life ripped through her.

She was dying. She had never known why the French called it the “little death” until now. She was dying. Done in by the most exquisite orgasm in her sexual history, or so she thought.

Before she managed to come down, before the first agonizing shudders had finished with her, Ian, diabolical lover that he was, pushed her higher.

He slid from beneath her, his fingers retreating. A second later the iron-hard length of his cock was tunneling inside the gripping, spasming muscles of her pussy with hard, heavy thrusts.

Gripping the material of the curtains that bound her hands, Kira pulled herself up, her muscles tightening through her body as she tried to breathe. Just one good breath as the first orgasm continued to tremble through her body even as he lengthened it and built the next.

The feel of his thick erection working inside her as his hands gripped her hips, held her in place with dominant force, was her undoing. She had never been a submissive, either sexually or in life, but oh God, she could definitely see the benefits at this moment.

“Ian . . .”

“I’m here, Kira.” His voice was so rough, guttural as he moved heavily behind her. “I have you, darlin’. I won’t let go.”

One hand cupped a breast, his fingers working her nipple as the other moved between her thighs, playing her clit with just the right amount of pressure.

It was violently sensitive, but he knew how
to touch, how to stroke. Just as he knew how to fuck her. He didn’t go easy on her. He made pleasure and pain combine, thrusting hard and deep inside her, flesh slapping together, their moans mingling.

She couldn’t bear this. Kira wasn’t certain when she realized the line she had just crossed, when she realized that pleasure and emotion were comingling. She knew she couldn’t bear it. She knew it was too much, too soon. She wasn’t ready for this.

She tightened in his arms, fighting to pull back, to hold on to that measure of control. She shifted, mind and body, pulled on her training, on what she had become. She would give him the illusion she gave everyone else.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He bit her shoulder. Bit her. Again. “Do you think it’s that easy? That I’ll let you draw back now? By God, I won’t take the Chameleon. I’ll have the woman.”

“Please.” She shook her head, her upper body falling back to the bed, leaving her rear up, her pussy open to him as he pounded inside her. “Ian. I’m . . .” She was what? Scared? Lost? “Please . . .”

“I have you, Kira.” He came over her, his voice thick now as the sensations began to build to cataclysmic levels. She heard the restraint in him though, and ached for it. Heard the regret that shadowed the dominance she knew he was capable of displaying. “I’m right here. Just come for me, baby. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

She was helpless. Bound, both physically and mentally, and she knew it. She was lost.

When the second orgasm came, she didn’t bother fighting it. She screamed, crashed, jerked in his arms, and felt the muscles of her pussy clench violently on the suddenly throbbing length of his cock.

He had thought to use a condom? At least he had a brain. She could hear his release in his shattered groan, in the jerky thrusts, the throb of his erection, but she didn’t feel the wetness of his semen.

For a wild moment, she regretted that. Wanted it. For one impossible, insane moment, Kira wanted things she knew she should have never considered. Had never considered before in her life. She wanted more than just the sex. And she wanted more than the restraint that tightened his body despite his release.

She wanted all of him. She wanted to defy that hard-won control that held him back, that kept a tight rein on the obvious hungers he was denying himself. She wanted to challenge him and feel him meeting her head-on.

She wasn’t a submissive, but a part of her was dying to submit. To meet his dominance head-on, to push at the boundaries he had set, and to weave herself as firmly around his soul as she knew he was weaving around hers.

I
AN RELEASED KIRA SLOWLY FROM
the filmy lengths of material that hung along the side of the bed. The thin panel he had used bound her wrists, holding her body in place for him, something he doubted Kira had tried often.

He ran his hand along her back, clenched his teeth and merely caressed the rounded globes of her rear rather than watching them blush, hearing her scream as she found more pleasure in an erotic spanking than she could imagine, and feeling her come apart as she found the threshold between that pleasure and pain.

There were so many ways he wanted to touch her, fuck her. So many things he could do to her body that would leave her shaking, gasping his name, immersed in a pleasure he knew she had never reached before.

She was a strong woman, there was no doubt. But he knew her strength and he knew the hungers that even she didn’t understand herself. And he knew that sexual, independent creature inside her was dying to defy the dominance he kept tightly leashed.

She was collapsed beneath him now, on her stomach, her head buried in the pillow as she fought for breath.

Ian straightened the filmy panels then rose and discarded
the condom he wore before stretching out beside her in the bed.

A dumb move, he told himself as he pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest. A really dumb move, because she felt so right. She felt as though she belonged against his chest and in his arms. She fit him, and damn if that knowledge didn’t rock his soul all over again.

“We have reports that Sorrell is becoming irritated with your defiance of him,” she said as one hand smoothed over his chest. “You’re encouraging the smaller cartels to defy him as well. He’ll strike against you soon.”

“I’m not discussing Sorrell with you, Kira.” Ian stared at the ceiling through the diaphanous material that stretched across the canopy frame above. “I’m not discussing any of this with you.”

“I’m here to help you, Ian.” Irritation colored her voice as she lifted her head to stare back at him. “I have my own sources I can work. You’re fighting a very dangerous man. Don’t throw away an opportunity to gain any advantage you can.”

“You being the advantage?” He let his hand smooth over the fall of hair that caressed his chest now. Her hair was softer than silk and warm enough to comfort a man on a cold winter night.

“I’m a hell of an asset.” There was no ego there, it was simply the truth and Ian knew it. She was a hell of an asset.

“This is my fight.” And he didn’t want her anywhere close to the danger he knew was coming. “I’ll take care of Sorrell.”

He would identify him, and if he couldn’t kill him then he would walk away and allow others to do it. Either way, when the game was up, he didn’t want Kira anywhere close to the violence that would ensue.

“I want you on a plane out of here, this week,” he told her then, meeting her gaze as he allowed the tips of his fingers to caress the gentle curve of her cheek. “Go back to the States and forget about this.”

Her smile was a soft curve of sorrow. “Do you really think I’m going to do that? I’ve found in the last months that I would do a lot for you, Ian. But I won’t do that.”

“That isn’t your fight.”

“I’ve made it my fight.”

Where in the hell had she developed all this stubbornness? She was the most intractable woman he had ever met. She didn’t argue, she didn’t scream or yell. She stated intentions and then followed through. He knew that. Besides what he had learned of her in Atlanta, his investigation into her had yielded the proof of it.

“I won’t come back here,” he told her then. “Tonight won’t exist after dawn arrives, and it won’t happen again.”

She shook her head, causing her hair to ripple over the muscles of his chest and his taut abdomen.

“It may not. I hear you’re a man of your word. But I’m not leaving Aruba until I finish what I came to do.”

“Which is?” Frustration colored his voice. “What the hell do you think you can accomplish here?”

“I can watch your back and gather the information you need from the sources you can’t access as the Fuentes heir. That’s my mission and I won’t leave until this is over. You can make my job easy, or you can make it hard. It’s your choice.” She lowered her head as she spoke, allowing her lips to caress his shoulder, her fingers to knead the bunched muscles of his biceps.

Ian continued to stare at the ceiling, frowning, trying to distance himself from emotion and to use the only weapons he had on hand for the perilous operation he was conducting. He had the smallest team they could put together; hell, it was so small he didn’t have a hope if the Fuentes soldiers didn’t follow him against Sorrell. That was his strength, the loyalty the cartel possessed. It went beyond money, to familial affiliations. Diego was related to the better part of his generals. His generals were related to their lieutenants and their lieutenants were related to the soldiers. It was a circle that continued on and on.

There might be a few spies, a few speaking from both sides of their mouths, but they all agreed. Terrorism made it hard on the drug trade. Terrorist fanatics made it even harder to sell drugs. Ergo, don’t let the French terrorist in on the business.

Some of the smaller cartels were too weak to fight the pressure Sorrell brought to bear, but the larger cartels opposing him were now doing what Ian had begun eight months ago. Absorbing those smaller operations with the promise of protection.

This wasn’t a game, and there was a hell of a lot more to it than drawing in information. If Kira aligned herself with him, then for the first time in her own career, she would no longer be giving the appearance of a neutral party. She would be compromising herself. And that begged the question, why?

For ten years she had worked as an undercover independent operative for various agencies. First the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and then the Department of Homeland Security. Why risk herself and her supposed neutrality now?

As Jason McClane’s niece, and a stockholder in the various companies and properties he owned around the world, Kira was known as his “source.” One of the few people he relied upon when it came to investing in certain businesses. He was well known for working in the hot spots of the world, for turning a profit out of humanitarian aid by building contacts. And Kira was well known in those hot spots. It was one of the ways she gathered her information on insurgencies, the movers and shakers involved in those conflicts, and where they might be going. And in certain instances, disguised and dangerous, she was known as the Chameleon. Able to blend into her surroundings to gather information that had nothing to do with McClane or his various businesses.

He’d seen her as a blonde, a redhead, and a brunette over the years. She could use makeup like a weapon, changing
her features so drastically that the true persona of Kira Porter wasn’t even recognizable. Unless you followed body movements rather than faces, which few people did. The shift of a hip, a particular gleam in the eye that had nothing to do with color, the soft curve of an ear unique to one woman, or perhaps just an underlying scent. Or maybe it was just one woman’s effect on a particular man and his ability to recognize it. Because in each instance he had become harder than iron and so damned aroused he was nearly panting when he saw her. No matter her persona.

Durango team, the unit he had fought with for the past five years, had run several ops based on information provided by the Chameleon. In each instance she had been on the inside of the op and present when it went down. And each time, Ian had recognized her, though the team had never been given her identity. Hell, he’d even taken her prisoner once when the team had been sent in to rescue an American diplomat being held in South America.

She poked her nose into places too damned dangerous for his peace of mind, he was beginning to realize.

“I’m certain my ceiling is perfectly interesting,” she said sarcastically. “I was attempting a discussion here.”

Ian looked down to where she rested on his chest. The irritation in her gray eyes brought a smile to his face. Damn, he should be running as fast as possible from her.

“I don’t need your help, Kira. You’d help me more by leaving.”

There was no doubt he was going to have to stay away from her.

“I think you’re well aware that’s not going to happen,” she gritted out. “Do you think you’re the only one who has a stake in identifying and capturing that bastard? Sorry, Ian, no-go. It’s just as important to me.”

Of course it was. One of Sorrell’s militant groups had claimed responsibility for the blast that killed her family and Jason McClane’s fiancée twenty years before.

“You can’t let this get personal, Kira,” he told her
somberly, aware of the irony behind his statement. “And this is no place to try to fight what’s between us, as well as the job at hand. It risks both our lives.”

“I don’t believe that. What we have between us makes success that much more important. It will make working together easier.”

“For you maybe.” He brushed her hair back from her face, wondering at the almost innocent quality in her face. She had an air of purity, of life, that never failed to amaze him. Or to challenge him. She had no idea what she was asking for when she asked to share his bed.

“For you as well.” A frown tugged at her brow as her gray eyes darkened.