Vital Signs (11 page)

Sarita’s serious reply flashed across the screen in seconds.
I’m on it.

Somehow knowing she shared his secret bonded him closer to her. With a new kernel of warmth spreading through his heart, he tucked his phone in a place he could reach it easier and situated his gear.

Engine number five screamed through the city. At least he could focus on his next mission, which was to rescue a family from their burning home. And if this had been set by the arsonist, Corey was damn well going to hunt the man down and make him pay.

Sarita listened to the voicemail for the fifteenth time. When the garbled tones of what she suspected was Mrs. Allancamp stopped, she tossed the phone onto the sofa cushion far from her.

So annoying. She’d wanted to help Corey—he’d sent it to her for that very reason. And she couldn’t understand anything on the message.

She pushed to her feet and moved through her apartment, tidying things that were already neat. She’d already done this twice already. There was nothing else to straighten.

A warm bath might calm her, but she expected she’d hear from Corey any minute. Surely he wouldn’t take that long to discuss their findings about the arsonist with his chief. It might be to her advantage to step out of a hot bubble bath to greet her lover, but she’d already showered earlier.

A cold shower to try to cut through her body’s white-hot desire.

Bored, she went into her small kitchen and pulled ingredients from her pantry. Baking had always soothed her nerves. While caring for her father, the house had a fresh supply of cakes and
coconetes
, a rustic coconut cookie popular in her homeland.

She began to blend the ingredients to make the staple cookie of every child growing up. As she mixed, her mind worked over the puzzle of the calls Corey had received.

Several calls followed by that single message. Was it really Mrs. Allancamp? It was entirely possible they were chasing the wrong lead and somebody had simple dialed the wrong number.

After she placed the cookie tray in her tiny apartment-sized oven, she checked her phone again. No word from Corey, and worry was beginning to seep in.

He hadn’t wanted to take her along with him on his investigation. Had he gone on his own to see if she’d contacted him? If so, what sort of danger would he face? If Mitchell was in fact the arsonist, the man had no problem at all snuffing out human life.

Sarita paced her tiny kitchen while waiting for her cookies to finish baking. When the timer sounded, she was surprised to find she’d been pacing for twenty minutes. She removed the cookies from the oven and set them aside to cool when her doorbell sounded.

A small cry left her. She whirled and rushed across her apartment to the door. Without bothering with the peephole, she whipped it open.

Relief flooded her, along with a dark twinge of want. Corey stood before her, his thumb hooked in the front pocket of his jeans, leaning against the doorframe.

She reached out and twisted the front of his shirt in her hand, yanking him inside. He huffed a laugh but she cut him short when she tugged him down for a kiss. In a heartbeat, they were right back where they’d left off.

Carnal desire hit her body. His hands were on her—all over her. Running up and down her sides, cupping her breasts, kneading them. Before he moved downward again to skim her waist and finally squeeze her hips and ass.

She broke from the kiss and stared into his eyes.

Ice water splashed over her. She stumbled back, her gaze glued to the bandage on his cheekbone. At first glance she hadn’t noticed it because his face had been angled away.

“What were you doing?” Her tone still sounded too breathy with lust but she managed to get across her concern too.

“It’s nothing. C’mere, baby. I’ve been thinking of you all day and this was the best greeting I’ve ever received.” He spun a hand around her spine. Where his big fingers splayed left an imprint of heat that soaked right into her pores.

No. She resisted his pull. “Have you been fighting?” She examined the sloppy bandage, wondering if he needed stitches under it.

“Of course not. I don’t have doctor clearances yet.” Damn if he wasn’t wearing the sexiest crooked smile ever. His eyes glinted with mischief and something blazing hot that reminded her of all the pleasure he’d promised.

But first…

She settled a hand on her hip and gave Corey her best stay-put-or-you’re-in-trouble stare she reserved for difficult patients. “Sit down in the kitchen and let me take a look at that cut.”

“It’s nothing.” He reeled her in again. Her breasts caressed against his chest, igniting her. But she wouldn’t be thrown off track.

“Into the kitchen.”

He stared at her, amusement twinkling in his eyes and playing about his mouth. He was a beautiful man, but she wouldn’t let his good looks sway her. “I was thinking more about the bedroom but if you prefer the kitchen, I can think of some kinky places to use you.”

Oh God.
His heated words washed across her earlobe. She shivered in his hold, nearly giving in.

Pushing against his chest, she spun away. Before he caught her, she made it to the kitchen and located her work bag containing most things needed to save a life.
Or properly bandage a cut he probably got during an altercation.

He leisurely flipped her kitchen chair backward and straddled it. His totally masculine pose almost sent her into spasms of need. She forced her eyelids to stop fluttering and concentrated on her patient.

She unzipped her bag. He started to reach inside but she slapped his fingers. His laugh, a low chuckle, burrowed deep into her woman parts. “Hold still while I remove your bandage.” Using a pair of tweezers, she caught the edge.

“I told you it’s fine. Cleaned it out myself.”

She arched a brow at him. “Oh? And just how did you receive this injury?”

“Nineteen Pasidony Street.”

She went dead still. That address sounded all too familiar—especially since they’d been flashing it all over her TV screen this afternoon. “You went on a call.” It wasn’t a question.

“Angel…” He cradled her hips in his big palms oh, so well.

She yanked the bandage free, barely leaving any of his skin around the wound intact. She sucked in a breath, partly with relief that the injury was in fact minor and partly to try to gain control.

“You went on a call and what? Got this from…?”

“Exploding glass. Was my own fault. I didn’t have my helmet in place when I went in. Rookie mistake.” He offered her a wide smile, which she returned with a glare.

She examined his cut from a different angle, and sure enough, spotted a glint of glass in the bottom edge. “What did you clean this out with?”

“Water and paper towel back at the station. Why?”

“There’s still glass in it. Can’t you feel it?”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “After having a pipe in your chest you don’t notice a little twinge like that.”

Shaking her head, she readied a bottle of antiseptic liquid to use to flush the wound. “Hold still. This will hurt.”

“You don’t have to sound so damn happy about it,” he said in the grouchy tone she knew well.

“There is a reason your doctor told you twelve weeks, Corey.”

His hands landed back on her hips. When he swayed her near and buried his nose between her breasts, she tried to erase the urge to give up on making him see the error in his ways and let him take her to bed.

She held the bottle over his cut and a towel against his cheek to catch the excess. On the first spray, the glass washed free. She gave the wound a few more squirts for good measure and looked into his eyes. “Did it hurt?”

“Not near as much as your ass is going to when I finally get you in my hold.” He pushed to his feet and swung his leg over the chair. She backed up a step but not before he removed the items from her hands and set them aside. Sagging at the knees, he lifted her into his arms.

“Corey!”

“I’m going to finish what I started earlier and you’re going to beg me for more.” He stomped to her bedroom and let her drop to the bed. She bounced, staring up at him as he began to strip. Every efficient move sent her pulse pounding.

His boots hit the floor, followed by a puddle of jeans and T-shirt. Leaving him in only tight boxers that revealed the ridges of his very large, very stiff cock.

She glanced up to his face. At his expression, worry struck. She tried to crawl up the bed.

“Oh no.” With lightning speed, he wrapped his fingers around her ankle and towed her back. Then he proceeded to flip her over. Her lounge pants were easy to yank down and expose her.

Before she could take a full breath, he brought the flat of his hand down on her ass. She screamed at the stinging blow, not prepared or expecting it. But it only took a moment for her to recover and push onto her hands and knees.

“That’s it, angel. Arch your back and show me how much you want this.”

She did, her nipples heavy and engorged. She needed them sucked and pinched and bitten. But she needed him inside her more.

Another crack made her arch but no sound escaped her. She bit onto her lower lip and took two more smacks, one to each cheek. Then he massaged her flesh lightly, soothing the pain he’d inflicted. When she felt his warm, naked flesh blanket her spine, she tried to twist into his hold.

With his lips at her ear, he said, “Hold still, angel. I’m going to claim you here.” He slipped his finger over the seam of her ass until he reached her pucker. She gasped, her pussy squeezing hard at the thought of him stretching her, filling her.

Maybe when he got off a difficult shift, he needed stress relief too. What better way than to dominate and claim her—everywhere?

She nodded, unable to form words through her sexual haze.

A noise of paper tearing and then a quiet
snick
of a lid. “Lucky thing I know where you keep your lube.”

She quivered. Without him touching her, she felt like a live wire. When he put his hands—his cock—on her, how was she ever going to hold still?

For what felt like an hour she waited. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder to find him just staring at her, his eyes hooded.

“Face forward, slave. I didn’t give you permission to look at me.”

“Corey… Please, sir.” Never in her life had she used such an address with a lover, but it gave her a thrill deep in her belly.

He groaned. “Say it again.”

“Please…” her voice hitched, “…sir.”

She felt the mattress sink under his weight. When a warm, wet tongue met her backside, she cried out. Gripped the sheets. Her mind tumbling out of control as he licked her in the most intimate spot imaginable.
Readying me.

He touched the tip of his tongue to her nether-hole. And with a grunt he buried his tongue. She shook with the need to wiggle against his torture, but he held her prisoner with his steely hands. Waggling his head back and forth, he sent her shooting for the stars.

Her clit ached. “Please…sir.”

As if he knew what she asked for, he inserted two fingers into her pussy. Slow, deep. Juices soaked his hand. When he stroked her hardened bud while tormenting her everywhere else, she couldn’t hold back another second. She came with a searing scream.

His deep voice overlaid her sounds. “Whose pussy is this?” He pushed high. Her body shook around the invasion.

She couldn’t speak around the bliss.

“Whose?” he demanded.

“Yours, sir.”

“And this hard, wet clit?” He circled it, extending the sweet pleasure-pain shaking her walls loose.

“Y-yours.”

“Yours, who?”

“Sirrrr.” She shuddered.

“And this.” He probed her backside with the tip of a finger. The slightest touch sent another spasm rocketing through her. “Whose ass is this?”

She clung to her sanity. He seemed to be pulling something from a deep well inside her. She felt her heartstrings pulled to the snapping point—right before he wrapped them around his fist.

She had no idea how it had happened but she’d fallen in love with him long before this moment. In a rush, she released the air she’d been holding. “Yours, sir. Corey, please.”

“Damn right. You belong to me, baby, and I’m going to make you come all night long for me.” Gently he withdrew his fingers. She trembled in anticipation. And then liquid slid over her backside and suddenly his condom-covered head perched at her opening.

“Mine.” He began to enter her.

∙•∙

Inch by mind-blowing inch, Corey eased his cock into Sarita’s tight passage. There was no going back—she was his. He’d had no inkling that he could be this possessive. Or where the words he’d just spoken had come from. A top layer had peeled back to reveal a brand new part of himself.

She made soft noises as he entered her. “Bear down, baby.” He had no idea how he knew this would help, as he’d never owned anybody’s ass before. She was his first, and fucking hell, was she hot.

When he was fully seated inside her, he paused. Dragging in gulping breaths to keep himself from pounding into her fast and hard until he spilled. Her arousal scented the air. Instinct drove him.

Running his palm over her spine, he whispered into her ear. “So good, baby. So fucking tight. All for me.”

“Yessss.”

“Okay?”

She nodded. When she rocked into his cock, his eyes rolled up in his head and he nearly lost it. He gripped her hips hard enough to leave his markings. He loosened his grasp even though he had a feeling she’d like seeing his fingerprints on her.

They were perfectly matched—in bed and out.

As he slowly withdrew, they shared a moan. He pushed into her again, slow enough to let her acclimate to him. When he was deep in her, the sexy little vixen ground her ass on his cock.

“Hell,” he grated out. Pulled back and slid home. She tossed her head back. He bundled her hair in his fist and bit into her throat as he fucked her with all the primal need buried inside him.

When the first tingles hit his balls, he slowed his rhythm. But she wouldn’t have any of it. He delivered a slap to her ass, which only drove her faster. When her inner muscles clamped around him, practically strangling him, he lost his rhythm.