by Sydney Croft
“Tell me what?” Annika asked, and shit, he’d forgotten that when Kat wanted to, she could make herself heard by Ani.
“Tell you I’m sorry that I’m being an ass,” he said smoothly. “I made you mad before, with the past girlfriend thing. The whole fight was my fault.”
Annika crossed her arms and eyed him suspiciously, Kat continued to chant, Tell her, and then the only thing Creed could think of to get out of this conversation was sex. Lots and lots of sex.
He grabbed Annika and kissed the shit out of her, right in the middle of the parking lot, kissed her until her resistance melted and his tattoos—and his cock—throbbed with need. She responded in kind, the electricity buzzing through them both until she pulled back.
“I thought you needed to go see Devlin.”
“He can wait.” He picked her up and carried her to the Jeep.
THEY ALMOST DIDN’T MAKE IT BACK TO CREED’S PLACE OFF base. Well, Creed didn’t make it. He’d been driving, and Annika had been fondling him from the passenger seat. When she leaned over and took him in her mouth, he’d shouted at the top of his lungs and shot his load all the way down her throat.
Damn, she loved the way she could make him blow with hardly any effort, and how he came so hard he could barely breathe afterward. Good thing he could drive, because it would have sucked to end up in the ditch and have to explain to the police how it happened.
Creed pulled to a smooth stop in their driveway, but as she reached for the door handle, he lunged across the space between the seats and pinned her to the door. He was gentle but firm and he wrapped her hair around his fist and took her mouth while tucking her beneath him. It was an awkward position, with one of her legs crammed up on the dash and the other skewered between the seat backs, but his cock was still hard and he was rocking it against her sex, and oh, yes, she so needed this.
“Creed,” she moaned, “I’m so sorry about our fight. I was wrong—”
“Shh.” He quieted with a tongue lashing against hers. He slipped his hand under her BDU shirt, his palm leaving pleasant tingles in its wake. Her skin had been so sensitive recently, and her breasts—if he touched them, she was sure she’d come … Oh, God.
He cupped one breast, flicked his thumb over the nipple, and even through the fabric of her bra the sensation was incredible, and she exploded, bucking wildly, and banging her head on the window.
When she could see through the sparks in her vision, Creed was looking down at her with an expression of awe. “Holy shit. You’ve never come from me touching your breasts before.”
“I know.” She was panting like she’d run a marathon, but her body was still strung tight, her sex throbbing and aching to be filled—with his fingers, his tongue, his cock … she didn’t care. “Fuck me, Creed. Fuck me now.”
A slow, lazy smile touched his lips. “In the house. I want a bed.”
Bed? They weren’t going to make it to the bed. She was going to take him down on the driveway and ride him until he begged for mercy.
Geez, hormones were weird.
“Come on.” He peeled himself off her, even though she tried to cling to him. “I’ll take care of you inside.”
“But, Creed …” That was the whiniest thing she’d ever said, and it made him laugh.
“Come inside, Annika, and I’ll do whatever you want,” he cajoled, crooking his finger as he eased out of the Jeep. “Want my mouth between your legs? Want me to suck you off again and again?” His voice grew deep and husky, and she knew he was as affected by his graphic talk as she was. “I can taste you already. You’re wet for me, aren’t you? I’m going to bury my tongue in your pussy and eat you until my cock is ready to explode.” He backed toward the house as she climbed out of the vehicle. “And then I’m going to flip you over and fuck you, long and hard.”
She growled low in her throat and stalked him, thinking she could pounce when he stopped to unlock the front door. Good thing they didn’t have neighbors, because she was ripping off her top and he was rubbing his dick, and fuck, they’d had some intense sex over the last couple of years, but this was going to blow the lid off all those other times.
“You want it, baby?” he murmured, as he jerked himself with long, tantalizing pulls. “You want this buried so deep you can taste it when I come?”
A wave of silky wetness flooded her. She ran at him. And damn him, the door was unlocked. He bolted through the doorway and pounded up the stairs. She gave chase, and as she topped the landing, where the huge loft bedroom was, he caught her and spun her onto the bed.
He came down beside her, careful not to squish her. They ripped their clothes off so fast she heard the tearing of fabric, and when he lay back on the bed and pulled a leg up to unlace his boots, she finally pounced. Before he could protest, she straddled his face so she could look down the long length of his gorgeous body.
“Do it, Creed,” she demanded. “Do it like you said.”
At the first stab of his tongue in her slit, she cried out. She managed to hold it together so she could take off his boots as he licked at her, and once his boots were off, she eased down on his mouth, threw back her head, and let him do what he did best.
His tongue swirled in her core, round and round, and then pushed deep, thrusting in and out. Her nervous system whacked out, shooting electric tingles all over her body, and she knew he was tasting her sparks like a battery. He moaned and spread her wide with his thumbs. He was ruthless with his technique, keeping her on the edge and anchoring her thighs in place when she began to pump her hips, fucking his face with the need to explode.
“Not yet.” His mouth hummed against her core. “I need more of you …” He closed his lips around her clit and sucked, and she screamed with pleasure.
Annika fell forward and gripped his hips. His cock lay stiffly on his abs, the tip dripping with pre-cum, or maybe it was leftover from his earlier orgasm. She swiped her tongue across the broad head, and his smoky flavor exploded on her taste buds. He bucked, but he didn’t stop his ravaging rhythm. He devoured her, every decadent lick, suck, thrust bringing her so much pleasure she thought she might die.
Whimpering with the need to come, she captured his heavy sac in her mouth and sucked, letting him know she was done playing. He got the hint, and immediately, the tip of his tongue danced on her clit and took her straight to the ceiling. Her orgasm took her apart, rattling her bones and stretching her joints, until the only thing holding her together was her too-tight skin. She shouted so loud she knew her voice would be gone in the morning.
Before the climax had fully melted away, Creed lifted her and rolled out from beneath her with a speed and grace that always surprised her when it came from a man so big. But in a matter of a heartbeat, he was impaling her from behind, his cock scraping over already sensitive tissues and igniting another intense release.
“God, Annika,” he breathed. “I love you.”
She barely had the ability to speak, but she managed a husky “Love you too. So … much … Mmm … yes …”
Slowly, and much more controlled than she expected, he withdrew and plunged inside her again. Her tissues burned at the invasion, but it was a good burn. She could feel the pulse of his shaft as her channel spasmed around it, could feel the soft slap of his balls against her tender, swollen pussy lips.
“You’re so wet, so slick. Soaked.” His voice was a raw rasp that rolled through her sweetly. “You feel so good.” He wrapped his muscular arm around her belly and hiked her hips higher as he increased the tempo of his thrusts.
This was bliss. This was perfect. Beyond perfect. Fire shot through her core, spreading from where they joined all the way to her fingers. His panting breaths came faster, and she knew he was only a few pumps of his hips away, which was good, because she was right there too.
Their orgasms crashed into them at the same time, his hot splashes intensifying her release.
They collapsed on their sides on the bed. As always, she’d lit up like a lightning storm duri
ng orgasm, something that would kill any other man, but it only made Creed come harder, and they both lay there and twitched as their orgasms went on and on, her electric current keeping them going even longer than normal.
Was this a pregnancy thing? She hoped so, because there had to be some benefit to offset the crying jags and mood swings and morning sickness, which was a stupid name for it, because it happened all day and night.
Fifteen minutes later, when they could move again, Creed hefted his arm over her waist and tugged her as close as they could get. A sheet of paper couldn’t get between them right now.
No, the only thing that could possibly get between them would be a baby.
STRYKER WILLS WAS SIX FEET FIVE INCHES OF LEAN MUSCLE, with a broad back and shoulders and eyes that women got lost in. They were nearly crystal clear with a hint of blue and green—kaleidoscope eyes, his first girlfriend, in kindergarten, had dubbed them. They’d made him the object of scorn and, at times, fear, but for the most part they got him laid on a regular basis. The angular jaw and chiseled cheeks and blond hair didn’t hurt either. But Stryker never really thought about those things—he was usually too busy trying to keep his temper in check so he didn’t set off a string of earthquakes that could swallow the United States whole.
A pretty heady thing for a kid to learn when he was in the if-I-want-it-I’ll-take-it, it’s-all-about-me phase of his life.
Luckily, with two parents who were agents with special abilities and working for ACRO, he had the best help imaginable to learn to channel any and all anger from his body.
The fact that his gift also came with, ah, hormonal side effects was unsettling, to say the least. His libido was directly affected by his gift—and vice versa—so his temper wasn’t the only thing he needed to keep under control.
His abilities as an agent kept him well in demand. His gift was extremely volatile and had the potential for mass destruction, and so he was forced to use it sparingly when on assignment. You never knew how the earth would react to a quake, what the ripple effect would be, no matter how small he tried to make it.
The unofficial ACRO motto, Don’t piss us off, we can kill you with our minds, was never more true than when he was out on a mission. He was back home now though, on leave and hitting the gym—the second best way to deal with stress.
He’d find—and do—the first later on tonight.
He set the weights and began to bench the three hundred pounds on the bar. Fuck the excedos and their superstrength, he could take any one of them in a fair fight.
Then again, he could take out half the civilized world if he really wanted to.
Good thing he was a pretty easygoing guy these days.
He lifted the weight, got to eight reps before he saw Dev standing over him.
“I didn’t call for a spotter.”
“I’m not here to be one.” And yeah, Dev made no attempt to help him put the bar back in place.
When Stryker did, he sat up and swiveled to look at his boss.
“Stryker …”
“You told me I could have some time off.”
Dev cocked an eyebrow. “I never make promises about leave. You know that.”
Stryker sighed. “What is it this time?”
“I need someone who knows the Amazon well. You fit the bill.”
Stryker did, had spent plenty of time there adventure-seeking in his late teens and early twenties. “Who’s going with me?”
“Akbar.”
“When do I leave?” Stryker asked, and then looked toward the door of the gym, where Dev’s glance had gone.
Two of the most beautiful Seducers stood there, waiting. One of them pointed and then motioned to Stryker.
“You’ve got a couple of hours. Make good use of it,” Dev told him.
“You didn’t have to bribe me, Devlin.”
“But it’s so much more fun that way.”
GABE SLIPPED INTO DEV’S OFFICE SECONDS BEFORE AKBAR slammed through the door. And since Akbar wasn’t the invisible one, he got Dev’s immediate attention.
Gabe knew he should leave immediately, that he shouldn’t be sneaking in and out of Devlin’s office at all. But hell, it wasn’t like he was planning on gossiping about any of the intel he’d learned on these recon missions. No, he considered it all a part of training, as he’d told Dev earlier.
And far more interesting than the training the other agents, like Annika and Akbar, wanted him to do. He’d done enough goddamned fighting to last for a hundred years.
“Devlin, we must talk.” Akbar was all business. The man stood well over six feet tall, with deeply tanned skin and black hair—handsome and menacing all at once.
Devlin gave a small frown. “So talk.”
“I do not want to step on any toes.”
“That’s never stopped you before. Besides, if you step too hard, I’ll beat the shit out of you.” Dev’s voice was steady but a half smile softened the words.
Gabe had only been at ACRO a few months but he knew as well as the other men and women who worked for Dev that his lover was a fair and semi-patient man. And yeah, this was going to be a good show, especially because Gabe found himself turned on by the authority in the man’s voice—aw, hell, he could get turned on just watching Dev do paperwork.
“Gabe is a fuckup,” Akbar said bluntly, and Gabe stood, as if to defend himself. This was suddenly no longer a fun floor show.
Dev didn’t say anything more than “Go on.”
“He is not taking the training seriously. Not working on his skills. I am unsure if it is because he thinks he can get away with murder because of you or something else, but that is certainly not helping.”
“You know I don’t give special treatment to anyone who’s fucking up at their job,” Dev growled, and Gabe’s heart sank.
“Of course. But the kid needs discipline, or I will never take him on a job with me.” Akbar’s Middle Eastern accent usually softened his words, but now it delivered a hard, cold promise few other agents could match. “I will never clear him. I know you have big plans for him, but I would not trust him with any responsibility right now.”
Gabe shook with anger. He was trying, dammit. It was just that coming to ACRO was finally like being home. He wasn’t the oddball. He could relax, didn’t have to be on guard all the time.
Then again, he had to learn to back up his fellow agents so they didn’t all look at him with inherent suspicion because of his newness and the affair with Devlin.
And what the hell were the big plans Devlin had for him?
“If Gabriel can’t cut it as an ACRO agent, he won’t go anywhere, plans or no plans.” Dev’s voice was firm; he meant it.
What the hell did you expect, Devlin to stick up for you?
Fuck. His breathing was so harsh he was sure the men could hear it, but they were engrossed in their conversation. Gabe wanted to leave the goddamned room now, but when he was pissed or upset, the walk-through-walls thing didn’t happen.
He was stuck. Trapped. Deserved what he got too, for being where he shouldn’t.
“I know Annika spoke to you about Gabe already,” Akbar continued, “but I needed to reiterate. Kid is a pain in the ass. It is going to take a hell of a lot for him to impress me.”
“You do what you have to do,” Dev said. “Write him up. Make him train overtime. He deals with it or he’s out.”
That hit Gabe like a punch in the gut. Out.
“Your flight to the Amazon leaves in two hours,” Dev continued. “I’ve already briefed Stryker.”
“I can get the intel from him, then.” Akbar started to leave, but paused at the door. “I am sorry, Devlin. I know you want Gabe to work out. He’s got a hell of a talent, but he is not earning anyone’s respect.”
“I understand.”
Gabe watched as Dev stared out the window and wished to hell he could read minds. Then again, maybe it was better right now that he didn’t know what his lover was thinking.
He slid out of th
e office, didn’t materialize until he was back in his room. Sat for a few minutes on his bunk and thought about what he could do to prove himself—and fast.
Your flight to the Amazon leaves in two hours.
Yes, and Gabe would find a way to be on it.
CHAPTER
Sixteen
When Logan surfaced, he found himself faceup, strapped to a table in the command tent, the familiar panic welling inside his chest. His father and Dr. Ives were next to him.
“Logan, you’re okay,” his father said. “We’ve given you a mild sedative and we’re repairing your arm.”
“Turn off the fucking light.” He put up his free hand to shield his eyes until the overhead lamp was angled away. He kept his hand there, his mind racing as his dad asked, “Who are the two women?”
He remembered feeling faint, remembered getting extremely paranoid … ordering Sela and Marlena contained.
It’s for their safety, and for ours, he reassured himself. Sela knew enough now to really do some damage to the company if she wanted to.
He had to find out who she was really working for. Who’d trained her to fight. What she’d shown him in the jungle, those weren’t simple reactions that could be explained away by her childhood and other traumas. Those moves weren’t taught in self-defense classes.
She’d been trained by someone in Special Ops. During her truth-telling session, she’d conveniently left that part out. Finally he answered his father. “We came across them in the jungle. Sela’s a cryptozoologist.”
“Who just happened to be in this jungle looking for a chupacabra?” his father asked.
Logan ground his teeth, irritated by his father’s sarcasm. “I took precautions by bringing them to camp.”
“And now she knows about the bioware. Who does she work for?”
“I don’t know,” Logan growled, and his father snorted. “Don’t give me shit, Dad. You don’t have the right to get on any kind of fucking high horse right now.” His father held up both hands in a sign of surrender, and why the hell was the room spinning? “What exactly did you give me?”
