Combustion: Ensenada Heat Book Two

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Combustion: Ensenada Heat Book Two Page 8

by Tess Summers


  He turned her around, gripping her tits in his palms as he kissed one shoulder, then across her neck to the other. Her body erupted in goosebumps when he started at the base of her neck and began to lay soft kisses down her spine to the hollow at the base of her back. Dropping to his knees, he tugged on her panties until they were at her ankles, and he slid his hands up one calf, past her knee, then up her thigh. Mason took his time caressing her inner thigh; he could feel the heat generating from her pussy, and knew that when he touched her, he was going to find her soaked.

  She lifted on her toes and bowed her legs, encouraging him to touch her cunt, but the tease was too delicious, and instead of tracing his fingers through her folds like he knew she wanted, he began to reverently rub her ass instead. His cock was so hard, he was sure there was going to be a zipper imprint on it when he took his pants off.

  Mason gently bit down on her creamy flesh, and she drew in a sharp breath of surprise, then softly moaned when he kissed her skin. Pulling her cheeks apart, he flicked his tongue along her crack and down to her wet center, where he dove his tongue inside her heat and began to tongue-fuck her.

  “Ohhhh gooooodddd.” She shuddered and reached behind her to pull his head closer.

  He smiled and pressed on the small of her back, bending her forward onto the bed and pulling her legs farther apart once her chest hit the mattress.

  His fingers began to explore her wetness, searching for her magic button as he resumed darting his tongue in and out of her.

  “God, I love how you taste,” he groaned while he lapped up her juices and rubbed her clit.

  Her little legs tensed around his shoulders and began to shake when he increased the tempo.

  “Come on my tongue, sweetheart. Let me taste it.”

  She began to moan louder and gasped, “Yessssss. Oh fuck, don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

  Mason began to use two hands—one to rub her clit, the other to fingerfuck her. He bit down on her butt when he felt her pussy clench around his finger, and she cried out as her orgasm shook her body.

  Replacing his fingers with his mouth, he licked her clean until she yipped and jumped at his touch, temporarily too sensitive to let him continue.

  “You are the fucking sexiest woman on the planet,” he growled against her skin as he kissed up her spine while she lay panting on the bed. “I’m never going to get sick of this.”

  Mason enveloped her body with his, pressing his hard-on against her ass and kissing her neck.

  Reagan blindly reached behind her, fumbling with the buttons on his slacks until he slid to her side so she could better tend to undressing him.

  His cock was leaking; he wanted her so damn badly.

  “Ohhh,” she whispered when his dick sprang free from his underwear and pants, and she quickly tugged them off, along with his socks and shoes. There he lay, naked from the waist down, so he began to unbutton his shirt cuffs while she ran her hands up his thighs, seemingly mesmerized by his cock and paying no attention to his upper half.

  His sassy girl must have realized her fixation with his cock, because she finally looked up and noticed he was working on his front buttons and seemed embarrassed she hadn’t done that for him.

  Giggling, she whispered, “Oops, sorry. Let me help you with that,” and moved to straddle his hips while she finished the task. His cock flexed against her heat, like it was egging him to put it where it belonged. She felt it, and looked down at him, one side of her mouth turning up. He didn’t give a shit; he wanted her—now—and he wasn’t ashamed of it.

  Reagan wagged her finger at him, smirking.

  “One good tease deserves another, baby.”

  She took her time with his buttons, softly rocking against him as she did.

  “Be careful, sassy pants,” he warned. “I’ll fuck you bareback right here.”

  Without warning, she sank down on his shaft.

  “I like you bareback,” she cooed as she began to ride him.

  It was nirvana—there was no other way to describe the feeling of being sheathed only by her warm, wet pussy. He was never leaving it.

  Finally his brain began to operate again, and his hands found her hips, tugging down to still her movement.

  “Sweetheart, are you sure? I mean, I’m clean—I know that for a fact, but I’m not snipped.”

  “I’ve had the birth control implant. I’m good for another two years. And I’m clean too.”

  His hands moved up her waist to cup her tits, as if to say, Carry on then.

  She leaned down, and he captured her nipple between his lips, sucking gently before biting down. Her whimpers drove him crazy. Switching to her other tit, he felt her getting wetter, and she began to buck her hips faster.

  Being bareback inside her wet pussy while she fucked him faster was not conducive to long-lasting sex, but he wasn’t about to slow her down—he could tell she was going to come soon.

  The problem was, so was he. He just needed to last until she started, and that was proving to be more difficult than he’d like.

  “Fuuuck, Reagan,” he moaned, closing his eyes and trying to think of Bruins stats, but they were no match for her tiny gasps and mewls.

  She sat up and the sight of her tits bouncing made him grit his teeth. He reached between them, finding her clit and rubbing hard with his thumb. That was the trick, because he felt her walls grip his cock hard as she climaxed.

  With a roar, he thrust up into her, jackhammering her pussy until he released rope after rope of cum deep inside her.

  It was the most amazing orgasm he’d ever experienced.

  “Holy fuuuck,” he panted, placing his hand on his forehead. “I think I’m seeing stars.”

  That made her giggle and nuzzle his neck.

  “Mmm, me too. We definitely need to do that again.”

  Again?

  “You’re insatiable, sweetheart,” he chided.

  He felt her shrug. “Your fault. Stop being so sexy if you don’t like it.”

  Mason rolled over on top of her, kissing her neck down to her chest.

  “Oh, I never said anything about not liking it. On the contrary…”

  Again, she giggled. “Good.”

  Yeah, he had no idea how he was supposed to let her go tomorrow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Reagan

  Best. Sex. Ever.

  Actually, best night of her life—period.

  She lay staring at his face bathed in moonlight, absent-mindedly stroking his hair while listening to his steady breathing. She couldn’t help but smile as she studied his face. The tiny scar along his cheekbone seemed to be the only flaw, and she would hardly call it a flaw, since it seemed to enhance his appeal.

  Reagan couldn’t help herself; she leaned over and softly kissed it. His grasp around her waist tightened while his other hand slid across his core to her breast on his chest and kneaded it.

  “You need to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice coarse from slumber.

  “I know,” she sighed as moved down and snuggled against his side.

  How was she supposed to sleep? She’d finally found Mr. Right, except everything about their circumstances couldn’t be more wrong.

  It isn’t fair.

  Reagan hadn’t realized she’d uttered it out loud until she felt his fingertips ran up and down her spine as he whispered, “It never is, baby.”

  She knew his words were supposed to offer some sort of comfort, but all they did was remind her that he’d been here before—in some woman’s arms the night before he never saw her again. This was business as usual for him.

  He might be an old pro at this, but she definitely was not.

  It was okay. If there was one thing she was, it was a fast learner.

  ****

  Mason

  He was up before the summer sun. There was a lot to do today—not least of which was saving his brother’s life. The captain told him they’d be in the marina in less than an hour; he headed to his office
to go over the plan one last time, looking for any flaws.

  It had been heavenly waking up next to Reagan for the second morning in a row, and he would have given his left nut to have stayed in bed with her all day. She was so fucking adorable when she whimpered, rolled over, and hugged a pillow in his place when he slipped out of bed.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luxury.

  His phone rang, indicating it was Jacob.

  “Everything all set?” he asked the fixer.

  “Agent Jones has been pacing back and forth for the last fifteen minutes. When are you scheduled to dock?”

  His hackles went up. He’d given consideration to the idea of Kennedy rescuing her sister instead of his brother and leaving him high and dry, but thought they’d reached an agreement—now he wasn’t so sure.

  “Soon,” Mason offered noncommittally.

  There was a commotion on the other end, with Jacob telling him, “Hold on,” before coming back on and saying, “I’m going to put you on video.”

  No sooner had he said that than Kennedy’s face appeared, barking at him, “Hughes, let me talk to my sister.”

  He fought not to roll his eyes.

  “Do you even know your sister, Agent Jones? She’s not going to be up willingly for at least two more hours.”

  That caused Keni to chuckle.

  “I guess you’ve gotten to know her pretty well.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” he replied, his tone wistful.

  Kennedy stared at him silently, cocking her head as if trying to figure something out.

  “We’re all set for you. Once you get to the marina, Jacob will be waiting to take you to where Marcus’ team is expecting to meet you. He will be orchestrating things between us, so this will be our last direct contact until I collect my sister. Agent Hughes, let me reiterate, if there is a single hair on her head that is out of place, I will kill you.”

  “I’m fine, Keni,” a little voice squeaked from the door.

  He looked up and saw Reagan in the threshold in her pajamas, her face free of any makeup. Her hair was smoother than it had been when he’d left her, but was still a little messy, like she’d run her fingers through it but not a brush.

  “Little sister, is that you?” Kennedy called.

  Reagan came around his desk and stood behind his chair, one hand on either of his shoulders. Keni narrowed her eyes as she observed Reagan’s comfort with him. His first instinct was to draw away from her touch under Kennedy’s scrutiny. Fuck that, he decided.

  “Hi Ken,” Reagan said softly. “Are you okay?”

  The older sister pffted. “I’m peachy. I need to be sure you’re the one who is okay.”

  His little red-haired nymph subtly squeezed his shoulders. “I’m fine. Mason has been nothing but kind.”

  “So you keep saying. The question is, how kind?”

  “He’s been a perfect gentleman, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  I wouldn’t exactly say that, he mused, forcing his face to remain neutral instead of smirking at his little joke.

  “Just a little while longer, honey. You’ll be on a plane back to Mexico by dinnertime, I promise.”

  Mason gripped the armrests with both hands. He wanted to possessively pull her into his lap, wrap his arms around her, and snarl at Agent Jones, “The hell she will.”

  “I’m sorry I ruined Madison’s baptism,” Reagan whispered.

  “Are you serious right now? First of all, you didn’t ruin anything.” Kennedy pointedly glared at Mason before turning her attention back to her sister. “And secondly, do you think any of us care that we had to reschedule that? All we care about is getting you back safe and sound. I’m the one who’s sorry for getting you caught up in my mess.”

  He interjected, “For what it’s worth, Agent Jones, thank you. I do appreciate you helping me rescue my little brother.”

  “Like I had a choice,” she scoffed. “And I didn’t do it for you, Hughes, I did it for my sister.”

  “So I guess I played my cards right.”

  “We’ll see by tonight. Good luck.”

  “You too,” he muttered before disconnecting the call.

  Mason glanced at his watch as he spun around in his chair, drawing her into his lap like he’d wanted to moments earlier.

  Resting his chin on her shoulder, he said, “We should be at the dock in thirty minutes. Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “I’m too nervous to eat. What’s going to happen next? You’re not really going to handcuff me to the bed while you’re gone like you said, are you?”

  “Nah.”

  Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh, good. That would have sucked. I’m sure my arm would have fallen asleep. I promise, I’ll stay in my cabin until you return. You have my word.”

  “Um, I don’t think so.”

  She jerked back to look at his face. “What do you mean, you don’t think so? I don’t understand. How can you not trust me?”

  He ran his hand up and down her arm. “Oh, I trust you. It’s your big sister I don’t trust. You’re coming with me.”

  “What? No. Are you crazy? You said so yourself, I’d be a liability. I can’t kill anyone.”

  “Not crazy, just cautious. And I’m not going to ask you to kill anyone, sweetheart.”

  “I would hardly call dragging me along with you cautious. As a matter of fact, I’d call it the opposite of cautious. More like reckless. I have no training. I’m out of shape—I barely go to the gym twice a month. My Spanish is rusty. What could I possibly be, other than in the way?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted.

  “Insurance.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reagan

  As she got dressed under Mason’s watchful eye, all she could do was fume. Insurance? This is bullshit. Is that all she was to him? A goddamn insurance policy to make sure Kennedy would help him? Is that all she’d ever been to him—from the get-go?

  “I thought you cared about me.” Her accusatory tone seemed to surprise him.

  “Of course I do. How does taking you with me negate that?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I don’t know—it just does. It’s like you think I’m going to betray you and leave. I would never want anything bad to happen to someone you care about. If Kennedy can help your brother, she will—she gave you her word. She’s a good person. You don’t have to drag me along as a guarantee.”

  “Reagan, I betrayed your sister—she wouldn’t help me if it weren’t for the fact that I’m holding you hostage. And the truth is, I don’t blame her—not one bit. And I also wouldn’t blame her if she attempted to rescue you and set me up to get killed in the process; if I were in her position, I’d consider it. So I’m taking you with me. You’re not going to be in harm’s way—I promise. You’re probably safer with me than here alone with the crew, anyway. I mean, not that they would hurt you; they just wouldn’t offer much protection if you needed it.”

  “I’m still mad,” she pouted.

  With a smirk, he drew her into his arms and kissed her hair.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “When?” she challenged, pulling back to look at him. She didn’t believe him for a second. Once they rescued his brother, he was sending her on her way, and he’d be free to move on to the next woman stupid enough to fall for him.

  He smiled as he ignored her question. “Are you ready? You sure you don’t want to grab something to eat?”

  “Positive. Let’s go.”

  Five minutes later, they were off the boat and into a waiting car. It was nothing like the black luxury car in Mexico with tinted windows. Instead they were going to be driven around in a royal blue Chevy Camaro.

  “Jacob—you sexy beast, how the fuck are you?” Mason said with a grin when he opened the car door.

  He moved the seat forward and gestured for her to climb into the backseat, then Mas
on fit his six-foot-one body in the front passenger seat. Jacob was not at all what she imagined a ‘fixer’ would look like. Apparently, movies didn’t do them justice because every character she’d ever seen on the screen that called himself a fixer looked like a weasel. The man in the driver’s seat—with his brown hair, green eyes, and cheekbones a model would be jealous of—was anything but weasel-looking.

  Jacob neither grinned back at Mason nor answered his question about how he was doing. Instead, he grunted, “Why did you bring her?” after barely glancing at Reagan.

  “Call it a gut feeling, but I think she needs to be with me today.”

  Jacob put the car into drive, muttering, “You better hope Kennedy doesn’t catch wind of this.”

  “If Agent Jones is as good as I think she is, she already knows.”

  Just then a phone started ringing through the car’s Bluetooth system. Jacob looked at the screen on the dash and cursed under his breath at the number that was displayed.

  “Speak of the devil,” he mumbled before answering it.

  Kennedy’s voice echoed in stereo throughout the sports car before Jacob even said hello.

  “What. In. The. Fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re going to get Reagan killed. Jesus Christ, it’s one thing to use her as bait for me, but it’s something completely different to use her as bait for the Colombian cartel. You fucking bastard—take her back to the yacht now or the deal’s off.”

  Mason’s voice was as calm as Kennedy’s was excited.

  “She’s not going back to the yacht. She’s not going to be in any danger.” With a grin, he glanced over at the brown-haired man in the driver’s seat, then continued talking into the air. “Jacob has agreed to keep her with him—kind of like escrow. He’ll release her once Marcus is out safe.”

  Jacob shot Mason a look and asked “I have?” In a louder voice, he called out, “I didn’t agree to this, Keni. Don’t get pissed off at me.”

  Kennedy let out a string of curse words. “If anything happens to her, Jake, you’re number two on my list to kill. I’m not fucking kidding. I will hunt you down—right after I slice Mason into fish food.”

 

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