Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 1-3

by Kennedy, Elle

  Jane yelped. “Where are we going?”

  “Bed.” One word. It was all he was capable of formulating. Lust had taken over, and he could barely see straight as he carried Jane into the bedroom and deposited her on the king-size bed.

  She propped herself up on her elbows, a small smile curving her mouth. Her gaze rested on his cock, which was harder than ever and giving her a full salute. “Is that for me?” she asked, the smile widening.

  “All for you,” he confirmed.

  She scooted to the edge of the bed where he stood and reached for his dick, her warm hands encircling it. Becker’s breath hitched. She teased the sensitive underside with her fingers and then leaned forward to lick the drop of precome at his tip. Becker groaned.

  “You like that?” she asked, mimicking his earlier taunt.

  “I’d like it more if you wrapped your lips around my cock,” he ground out.

  She did exactly that, her soft laughter vibrating along his shaft. Heat enveloped his cock, and his balls tightened as Jane’s hot, wet mouth moved over him. She sucked him as if her only goal in life was to get him off, swirling her tongue over his tip, then taking him so deep in her mouth he was practically down her throat.

  “Fuck. Yes,” he hissed out. “Just like that, baby.”

  Jane was making sexy little sounds in the back of her throat as she sucked on his cock. She was loving it, and damn, so was he. The hot suction of her mouth felt like heaven, and when she cupped his balls with one hand and squeezed, not so gently, he nearly shot his load.

  With a groan, he pried his dick out of her eager mouth, eliciting a disappointed pout from Jane’s sexy swollen lips. “I wasn’t done,” she complained.

  He grabbed the condom he’d left on the end table and put it on. “I would’ve been, if you kept sucking me like that.” He pushed her onto the mattress so she was flat on her back, and climbed on top of her. “And I’d rather come inside you.”

  Before she could reply, he slid his cock into her to the hilt. Jane let out a cry of delight, then wrapped her arms around him and stroked the sides of his arms. He winced as she made contact with the puckered bullet wound.

  She immediately dropped her hand, her blue eyes filling with concern. “Oh, God, are you okay? I keep forgetting you got shot!”

  He smiled faintly. “I keep forgetting too. Whenever you’re around, all I seem able to do is this.” He pumped into her, emphasizing his point.

  “We can stop. If your arm hurts, we should stop.”

  “My arm doesn’t hurt.” He bent down and sank his teeth into her shoulder, then licked away the sting. “My cock, on the other hand, will hurt something fierce if I don’t come soon.”

  Jane shoved her hands on the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. “Well, we can’t have that.” She swept her tongue over his bottom lip before biting it, sending a jolt of pleasure to his groin. “Come on, Beck, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Chuckling, he grabbed her hands and shoved them over her head, locking her wrists together. Then he thrust into her, hard, fast, meeting the seductive challenge she’d tossed out and making demands of his own. “You first,” he muttered as his hips pounded into her. “Come for me, Jane. I want to feel you coming all over my dick.”

  She gasped from each sharp thrust, each dirty word. Her inner muscles squeezed his cock.

  “Fuck, that’s it, baby, I feel that pussy throbbing, you’re close, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She arched her back, taking him in deeper, and then another yes slipped from her mouth, this one thick with desire.

  Ecstasy flashed across her face as the orgasm ripped through her. Becker barely had time to enjoy watching her come apart, because pleasure seized his balls and then his own orgasm sizzled down his spine. He came hard, shoving his tongue in Jane’s mouth. He continued pounding into her, desperate, erratic thrusts that made Jane writhe beneath him. Their groans mingled together. He felt Jane’s heartbeat hammering in her chest, matching the frantic beats of his own heart.

  When they finally grew still, their breathing steady, their bodies still joined, Jane released a soft laugh. Planting a kiss to his jaw, she moved her lips to his ear and whispered, “Okay, let’s have dinner now.”

  Becker just laughed.

  * * *

  “I’m here for eight more days,” Jane said, setting down her fork.

  Their dinner was spread out on the table, the aroma of chicken and rice filling the air. Becker had ordered a bottle of wine too, and they’d already consumed half of it. Jane was feeling a little tipsy, which was probably the reason she’d decided to vocalize her thoughts. She hadn’t wanted to push him, but she couldn’t stop herself from making this proposal.

  Becker popped a piece of chicken in his mouth, chewing slowly. “And?”

  “And I think it would be a complete injustice if I spent the next eight days not getting fucked by you.”

  He coughed, then shook his head and shot her a grin. “I’m trying to figure out if I’m ever going to get used to how blunt you are.”

  She grinned back, oddly pleased that he didn’t seem to mind her painfully honest nature. She’d always been this way, speaking her mind, often blurting out things she probably shouldn’t. Other men had seemed put off by it, especially when her honesty revealed something they didn’t want to hear. But Becker actually seemed to appreciate it.

  “I’m serious,” she said as she reached for a glass of wine. “I think we’ve stumbled onto something good here. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to see me naked again.”

  She stared at him. He stared back.

  After a moment, his brown eyes grew resigned. “I want to see you naked again.”

  Pleasure jolted through her. “Good. So let’s do naked things for another week.”

  Becker laughed, but his expression didn’t stay amused for long. “I wasn’t kidding the other day,” he told her. “I’m getting over a divorce.”

  “How long were you married?”

  He instantly became guarded. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because this divorce is obviously our only obstacle, so we might as well tackle it. That way we can get back to bed.”

  Becker’s lips twitched.

  “So, how long?”

  “Fourteen years.”

  Jane couldn’t hide her surprise. Wow. Fourteen years? She couldn’t imagine spending that much time with a person. Her longest relationship had barely lasted three months. “You must have married young,” she remarked.

  “We were eighteen.”

  “High-school sweethearts?”

  He nodded.

  “Let me guess,” she said dryly. “Football quarterback, head cheerleader, passionate romance for four years, got married because you couldn’t live without each other and wanted to face the exciting new world together?”

  “Almost.” He shrugged. “Football quarterback, head cheerleader, passionate romance for four years, got married because I knocked her up.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” Sadness crossed his face. “She got pregnant, decided to keep the baby, so we got married. She miscarried three months later.”

  “And you decided to stay married?”

  “We wanted to make it work.” Another shrug. “And we did, for a long time. Alice and I were always pretty independent people. She did her modeling thing, I did the military thing, and the marriage kept us grounded.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Her modeling thing became more important than the marriage,” he said simply.

  Jane took another sip of wine, thoughtful as the cool liquid slid down her throat. “She’s a model, huh?” Somehow that surprised her, that this quiet, intense man had been married to a model.

  “Alice Dawes,” he supplied.

  “The Mystique perfume chick?” When Becker nodded, Jane couldn’t fight the tug of insecurity in her gut. Jeez. Only yesterday she’d flipped through a magazine and admired the perfume spokesmod
el. Alice Dawes was drop-dead gorgeous. Long, silky blonde hair, pale silver eyes, a tall, willowy body. Just looking at the woman’s picture had made Jane feel frumpy and dwarfish in comparison.

  “Wow,” she finally said, reaching for her wine again. She drained the glass, wondering why she suddenly felt so inferior. One, she and Thomas Becker weren’t seriously involved. And two, he’d divorced his wife, so obviously Alice Dawes wasn’t that awesome.

  Becker pushed away his plate, smiling ruefully. “What, you find out my ex-wife is a model and now you’ve changed your mind about all those naked things you wanted to do?”

  “I haven’t changed my mind.” She hesitated. “You still haven’t told me if you’re even interested.”

  He met her eyes. “I am interested. But I’m also realistic. I don’t want a relationship.”

  “I’m only here for another week. That’s not a relationship.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “A fling.”

  Becker looked uncertain. “I…uh, I’m not a fling kind of guy.”

  Rolling her eyes, Jane pushed back her chair and stood up. She rounded the table and, before he could object, lowered herself into Becker’s lap. He wore only a pair of boxers, and the second she straddled his powerful thighs, his cock went stiff, poking against her thigh.

  Jane raised her eyebrows. “I think every man is capable of being a fling man, Beck. And I think your dick agrees with me.”

  His dark eyes went even darker, burning with arousal. Although she’d put her dress back on before dinner, she wasn’t wearing any panties, and it would be so very easy to move the material of her dress aside and slide down onto his big, erect dick. But she fought the temptation. They didn’t have a condom handy, and besides, the second his distracting erection filled her pussy, she knew she would lose the capacity for speech.

  “My cock isn’t very reliable,” Becker said, resting one hand on her thigh. “He likes you way too much.” Sweeping his tongue over his lower lip, he stroked her bare knee.

  “And what about you?” she asked softly.

  He leaned forward to nuzzle her neck. He pressed his lips to her skin, kissing his way down her throat. His voice was muffled as he said, “I like you too.”

  A shiver of pleasure danced up her spine. “Then fling with me. I promise, I won’t make any demands. I already told you what I want.”

  He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “A week of sex. Is that what you want, Jane?”

  She nodded.

  The reluctance on his face was beginning to chip away. She could see his resolve crumbling. The lust creeping into his eyes and pushing all the hesitation away. Deciding he needed one final push, Jane reached between them and curled her fingers over his cock. She squeezed gently, then moved down to cup his heavy balls. He moaned.

  “Come on, Thomas, you know you can’t say no,” she murmured. “You don’t want to say no. So just say yes.”

  She continued playing with him, stroking, squeezing, until he released a strangled groan and said, “Yes.”

  5

  Four days later, Becker was still trying to figure out if agreeing to Jane’s proposition was the best decision of his life, or the worst. What wasn’t up for debate was the fact that this was the best sex of his life.

  How he’d gone for thirty-two years without experiencing sex like this was a mystery. All Jane had to do was take off her clothes and he turned into an animal. He’d fucked her every which way for the last four days. Indoors, outdoors, on every piece of furniture, on the floor, in the shower, from behind. And no matter how many times he came inside that tight, hot pussy of hers, he never seemed to be sated.

  But what bothered him more was how seamlessly she’d insinuated herself into his life. Well, insinuated was probably the wrong word. That implied she’d been the one to seek out a bigger role, when it was him who’d told her to move her stuff into his cottage, him who’d convinced her to stay for breakfast every morning instead of heading back to her room to write. Since he was still on leave thanks to the bullet wound, he had absolutely nothing to do other than look for a place to live, yet instead of meeting with the realtor, he’d been spending all his time with Jane.

  For a man who didn’t want a relationship, his actions of the last few days troubled the hell out of him.

  Those same actions evidently confused Jane, because as they pulled out of the hotel parking lot on Thursday afternoon, she turned to him with a deep frown. “I don’t get it. Are we dating?”

  Her no-nonsense tone made him smile. He’d never met anyone like Jane. Sex-goddess looks aside, she was smart as hell, unfailingly honest, and way too perceptive for his peace of mind.

  “We’re flinging, remember?” he said, heading toward the bridge that separated Coronado from San Diego, their destination.

  “People who fling do not go to play mini-golf.” Jane shot him a sideways glance, looking flabbergasted. “Why are we going to play mini-golf?”

  “You mentioned you liked to play, so I figured it was a nice way to spend the afternoon,” he pointed out.

  “It is, but I still don’t get why you suggested it.” She shook her head, which caused strands of wavy red hair to fall into her eyes. She blew them away in frustration. “You told me you didn’t want a relationship. The stuff we’ve been doing? That’s relationship stuff, Becker. Dinner on the boardwalk, Netflix marathons, mini-golf—that is not a fling.”

  He sighed. “I know.”

  “So what is this?”

  Discomfort crept up his chest and settled into a lump in the back of his throat. That was precisely what he’d been asking himself for the last couple of days. Since when had this turned into more than just sex? It was Jane’s fault, for being so damn likable. He’d never really connected with many people. In high school, even though he’d been on the football team and part of the popular crowd, he hadn’t had many close friends. During SEAL training, where most of the men bonded, he’d kept to himself. Even now, he was part of a close-knit team and he never saw the other guys off the base.

  But Jane…he connected with her. She made him laugh. And she turned him on like no other woman ever had, not even his ex-wife.

  He thought of what she’d just asked him. What was this? Fucked if he knew.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, keeping his gaze glued to the road.

  “Okay.” She paused. “This conversation is pointless, anyway. I leave in a few days, so even if we are dating, we won’t be for much longer.”

  The jolt of unhappiness that suddenly raced through him was disconcerting. He’d forgotten she would be leaving on Sunday. But they’d agreed from the beginning that this was a short-term thing. There was really no reason why the thought of her walking out of his life made his chest feel so tight.

  He didn’t reply, and neither of them said much as he drove to the mini-golf course Jane had found the address for online. They’d been lying in bed, recovering from their respective orgasms when he’d brought up the idea, though he still wasn’t sure why he’d suggested they spend the afternoon playing mini-golf. Jane was right—this was relationship stuff. He’d agreed to a casual fling, some fun in bed. So why was he suddenly so eager to have fun with Jane out of bed?

  He pulled into the gravel lot and killed the engine of his SUV. He and Jane got out, and she immediately plopped a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of her freckled nose. The sun shone overhead in a cloudless sky, a warm breeze brushing across Becker’s bare arms. He slipped on his own sunglasses, aviator-style ones that Jane had teased him about, declaring they belonged in a cheesy action movie. But he liked his shades, and he ignored her giggle as he put them on. What he couldn’t ignore was the way her blue halter dress molded to her curves.

  Dresses. That’s all the woman ever wore. Cute little sundresses, halter ones, the long green one made from that filmy, see-through material. It drove Becker crazy each time she came out of the bedroom in another one of those fuck-me dresses. It drove him even crazier knowing
that, half the time, she didn’t wear panties. She wore them today, though. He’d seen her sliding into a flimsy black thong before they left the cottage, and his mouth went dry, hands tingling with the urge to reach under the hem of her dress and pry that thong off her firm ass.

  “You’re thinking about sex,” Jane said, jarring him from his thoughts.

  He shot her a sheepish smile. “Yep.”

  “Well, stop. I won’t be able to kick your ass on the course if I’m distracted.”

  Becker moved closer and wrapped his arms around her slender waist. “Maybe I want to distract you. Maybe it’s part of my dastardly plan to kick your ass in golf.”

  Jane stood up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his. She gave a mischievous grin. “In your dreams, Thomas. I’m very good at this game.”

  * * *

  “Crap, you weren’t kidding,” Becker said ten minutes later, after Jane had sunk her third consecutive hole-in-one.

  She demurely held her putter to her side, enjoying the look of awe in his eyes. She might be the least athletic person on the planet, but she’d always been pretty damn good at mini-golf. “When I was a teenager I dated a guy who worked on a putt-putt course,” she confessed. “We used to sneak onto the course after he finished his shift.”

  “Please don’t tell me you lost your virginity on a piece of green felt in front of a fake earthquake scene.”

  She shot him a solemn look. “I did.”

  Becker let out a sigh. “Seriously?”

  Jane grinned. “No. I lost my virginity in the backseat of a Ford pick-up, which is probably just as bad.”

  They crossed a little bridge that hovered over a pretty pond with fake yellow and blue fish. The path leading to the next hole wound around a papier maché mountain, which made no sense since the last hole had looked like a beach. Obviously this course had no discernible theme. As they headed around the bend, the sound of male voices drifted toward them. Jane couldn’t help but laugh as she listened.