Flyboy
Page 3
Cami’s antics drew his attention back to the woman. She yelped when his hand landed a stinging smack to the plump ass threatening to bust the seams of camouflage shorts that were stretched to the max. The damn things were at least two sizes too small, just like everything else the woman wore.
“Cami, if you don’t stop this racket, I’m outta here.”
“No, Hammer,” she gasped. “Please, I’ll be quiet. You can’t leave me like this. You’ve got to finish me off.”
Of course, she had to put a sexual connotation on the comment. The woman lived, ate and breathed sex. Hell, her voluptuous body inspired lusty thoughts, even in him. Thoughts he’d never act on. Cami had lived hard and played harder. At the tender age of twenty-four she already looked closer to forty.
He waited until she settled down before going back to work on her misaligned spine. “How the hell did you throw your back out this time?”
Duh! Ask a stupid question… Whoever coined the phrase “There’s no such thing as a stupid question” had to be dumber than a fence post. He rushed to stop any explanation before it started. “Never mind, Cami. I don’t really want to know.”
A few practiced movements followed by several audible pops and loud moans later had Cami right as rain and ready for action.
She rolled over, rising up on her elbows and giving him a lascivious grin. Squeezing her full breasts inward with her upper arms accentuated her cleavage. His cock jerked. The vivid image of his shaft sliding between her soft globes had him biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a needy moan.
“Damn, Hammer. That was better than sex, sugah.”
He had to chuckle at the naughty comment. He glanced down as she rose onto her knees and her lashes fluttered over big blue eyes darkened with desire. The tip of her pink tongue slid from between puffy lips to trace a wet trail over her wide mouth. She scooted closer and placed her warm hands on his upper thighs very close to his cock, which stiffened, pressing against his zipper in a demand to be released.
He wanted to scream, “It’s alive,” but remained quiet. Jhett had not had an erection in too long. Of all the times for his cock to show an interest, this was the wrong one. “Cami,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
“Shh! I just want to offer my thanks.” Bright-red lacquered fingernails scraped over his length, drawing a moan from Jhett and causing his cock to swell.
He’d heard the other guys talk. Cami had become a legend among the informal group of bikers, reputed as being able to suck the chrome off a tailpipe. He met her gaze as she popped the first button. God, it had been so long since he’d allowed anyone to touch him—ages since he had any physical relief. The woman may be easy, but she had a heart of gold and her touch sparked a reaction he’d thought had died in the Ukraine, ripped out along with his soul.
He longed to slide into her warm, damp mouth. First, he had to be sure she knew the score though. Jhett grasped her hands, stopping her nimble fingers at the third button. “Cami, this won’t get you into my bed.”
Her gaze dropped for a few seconds before meeting his again. “I know, Hammer. Let me do this for you. Let me give you some pleasure. I don’t expect anything in return, but I want to do this. You need it.”
He nodded and dropped his hands. Cami stared into his eyes a few seconds longer before smiling and returning to her task. She dragged the jeans over his hips and Jhett sighed as his cock sprang forward.
Welcome back, buddy!
“Mmm…nice!” She held his thick shaft in a two-fisted grip, licking her lips as a bead of fluid emerged from the narrow slit.
“Lick it, Cami. Get it nice and wet.” He gathered her long bleached-blonde hair and held it out of the way so he could watch her work.
Instead of going straight for the prize, she took her time, first spreading the pre-cum over his head and giving several firm strokes, her touch more forceful than most women would dare. One hand drifted lower to massage his balls. He groaned as the sensations spread through his sensitive sac. She licked the shallow line separating his balls all the way down and behind to lap at his perineum, careful not to miss a spot, then sucked him into her mouth. Cami rolled her tongue over his jewels and sucked, hard.
“Christ, woman!” If she kept that up, he’d explode before she even got his cock into her mouth.
She hummed, the vibrations twisted through his groin and slammed straight into his gut. Without conscious command, his hands fisted in her hair to hold her close. When she released his well-pleasured globes, she grasped the base of his dick, licked the head then drew him down her throat. All the way down her throat, until he shot past her tonsils and her lips kissed his groin.
“Holyfuckingshit,” he sputtered and locked his knees in order to remain upright. Nothing he’d heard had done her oral abilities justice. Jhett surpassed blown away and headed straight into stupefied, incoherent muttering.
Cami showed no mercy. She sucked hard, head bobbing, firm hands working his balls, one damp finger sliding back to rim his puckered hole.
“Don’t go there,” he warned in a cold and vicious tone that made heartless soldiers cringe. But not Cami. The vixen just chuckled and continued to trace his anus with one of her wicked fingernails.
Since she took all of him with ease, Jhett didn’t hold back. His hips thrust, slamming him into the back of her throat over and over. With a convulsive swallow, her throat tightened around him as her cheeks hollowed. He wanted to close his eyes tight and revel in the powerful sensations, but struggled against the impulse. He had an equal interest in watching the expression of supreme enjoyment softening her face.
He smelled her arousal rising on the air, felt hard nipples press into his thighs and luxuriated in the idea she got pleasure from sucking him. Wet slurps and mumbled praise rang in his ears.
God, she was fucking amazing. “You love sucking it, don’t you, Cami. That’s right. Suck it all down like a good girl.”
A small gasp from near the tent flap drew Cami’s attention away from her task. Soon, his own gaze traveled the distance to discover the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen checking them out. No, that wasn’t quite right. She was checking him out, her bright green eyes focused on his face. Hell, she seemed to not even notice the woman attempting to vacuum suck the cum right out of his balls.
Somehow, having the newcomer stare at him accomplished what Cami’s skilled blowjob had failed to achieve. With a harsh shout, hot streams of cum exploded through his cock. Greedy for him, Cami drank down every drop, continuing to suck until he yanked her head back. He gasped for air but did not luxuriate in the release. With quick motions, he restored his clothing and turned.
Jhett didn’t look at Cami, not wanting to see any hurt that may be in her eyes. He didn’t say a word as he took hold of the new arrival’s toned biceps and dragged her out of the tent.
* * * * *
Twyla walked around in a daze, her mental processes still jumbled from the lightning-fast trip through time and space. Damn, she’d have to find out how Danu managed the amazing feat. It would be a neat power to possess. One second she’d been watching a national news report, gasping as she heard details of how a recognized computer genius had been captured in Europe, in the next instant her surroundings changed. “Although it would be nice to be given a little warning before being zapped to another location.”
Oh, good job, Twyla May. People who’d already stared now backed up, maintaining plenty of distance between them and the loony Amazon.
In six days spent on the Isle of Sàbhail—equating to only a few hours time gone from home—she’d learned many things from the ancient Hussy warrior hunter. Her lips curled up in a smile. She couldn’t curtail the natural response, which had angered Danu. The word “hussy” had a very different meaning in modern society than it had centuries ago when women lined up for the privilege and honor of joining the legion of Hussies. The women wore the title with pride. Twyla did too, now that she understood the historical origins of the word.
Her pride at being hand-picked by Danu to join the ranks of the Hussies had given Twyla a much-needed boost in self-confidence. She held her head and shoulders higher now, lifted by a sense of purpose greater than she’d ever experienced. Everything she did had new meaning and importance. The perks that came with the designation didn’t hurt any either. Her new clothes brought with them a sensual power and allure she’d lacked. And the car…
Muscle cars had turned her head before, but this car had her creaming her panties. A nineteen sixty-nine Camaro sport coupe in the original paint colors, hugger orange with bold white racing stripes running from bumper to bumper. Getting used to driving it had taken effort, but what a sweet ride. Prettiest damn thing she’d ever seen too. The leather interior matched the exterior colors and the racing seats featured four-point harnesses for safety. She had to climb in over a bar welded at a diagonal next to the seats, which added extra stability to the frame.
An extra gauge and toggle switch wired into the dash had been referred to as “nos” by the car guy. He’d explained that the switch was wired to a tank of nitrous oxide in the trunk, and hitting the throttle at just the right moment would turn the earth-bound machine into a rocket. No way would she touch the switch. The whole concept scared the hell out of her. The fast car taxed her driving skills enough without adding nitrous into the mix. She had to admit though, the appreciative stares the car drew from men did a lot for her ego.
She blinked as she stared at the vehicle that had made the leap with her. “Now that’s pretty damn cool.” After engaging the alarm system, Twyla followed her instincts, as Danu had instructed, and found herself at the entrance to a large olive-gray tent. She ignored the sounds coming from inside, pulled back the flap then stepped inside, coming to an abrupt halt.
Despite the fact they had not met, she’d have recognized the man she would assist anywhere, knew him on a cellular level. He took her breath away. Tall and commanding, his dark aura radiated strength leashed by a tortured soul. While she didn’t know what he’d been through, she had no doubt the painful experience had left deep scars that remained fresh.
A warrior in the truest sense of the word.
Pale blue, almost colorless eyes locked onto her, revealing startled recognition. Twyla gasped as his features contorted into an expression of agony mixed with pleasure. Before she even realized he’d moved, the man had her by the arm, forcing her outside. They walked across the campground in silence until he almost tripped over his own tongue, which hung from a slack jaw, while he stared at the Camaro.
“Yours?” he growled.
At her nod, he held out a hand, palm up. She dropped the keys and his fingers fisted around them. “Get in.”
Twyla surprised herself by following the barked command then made quick work of fastening the seatbelt as he gunned the engine and the car shot out onto the road. He handled the robust vehicle with dexterity and expertise.
When they reached the stop sign, he tensed and stared over at her. Undisguised jealousy turned his eyes cold. “You in the habit of letting strange men drive this beauty?”
She pondered what he was jealous of, other people who’d had the chance to drive the car or other men she may have shared time with. Without giving it much thought, she dropped the subject that would only clutter her mind and result in a massive headache. Since returning to the States a few months ago, she had spent a lot of time debating how much to tell him. In the end, she’d decided to keep most of the details to herself, they were too fantastic for the average person to believe, and stuck as close to the truth as possible.
“You are the first and only man who has been in this car since I got it, and no one else has been behind the wheel before.” His brow furrowed and Twyla longed to run her fingers over the crinkled skin to soothe him.
“So why me? You don’t even know my name.”
This time she did not resist the impulse to touch him. She reached across the seat, placing her hand flat over his heart, the steady beat reverberating along her arm. Taking his hand, she placed it over her left breast. One slowed, the other sped up, until synchronized. His mouth fell open, a comical expression of shock overtaking his handsome features. She would have laughed if the moment were not serious and pivotal to her mission. “My heart knows everything it needs to know about you. If you dig deep, you’ll find that you know me too.”
“H-how’d you do that?”
Chapter Four
“Do what?” Twyla blinked her eyes and hoped she managed to appear innocent.
“Christ, I don’t know.”
Jhett raked his fingers through thick black hair and she shoved her hands under her thighs. Damn, how she itched to feel the cool strands slide between her fingers. A bit scruffy, the style grown out, he needed a haircut. No way would she make such an asinine suggestion. The disheveled locks softened his harsh and rigid military bearing. She didn’t have to be told he’d been in the armed forces, it was written in each deliberate movement, exposed by his alert posture and focused awareness.
“I don’t even know your name.”
A multitude of feelings flashed in his eyes before disappearing, making her wonder if they’d been real or imagined. Disappointment and frustration—in himself? She also detected a thirst for knowledge. This man would dig to unearth every facet of a situation until satisfied he’d gained full comprehension. Twyla appreciated and shared a similar drive for knowledge.
“Twyla MacAlister.”
He nodded. “First the car. How much do you know about her?”
She didn’t even try to hide her wide grin. Danu had said the man she helped would have an appreciation for fine machinery so she’d made a point of learning the proper statistics and terminology.
“She’s a sixty-nine, retro-fitted with a turbo-charged short block V8, pumping out more than six hundred horses, hydraulic cams, dual exhaust…more tricked-out performance gear than most drivers know what to do with.”
A wicked grin curled over his sensual lips. Twyla almost moaned. She wanted to kiss him so bad, feel those lips pressed against hers, taste the warm recesses of his mouth.
“You’ve named her.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but an irrefutable fact. “Nobody gets that into talking about a car and hasn’t named her.”
Perceptive. “Her name is Epona, from Celtic mythology. She’s the goddess—”
“Goddess of horses and fertility. Very apropos considering the number of horses under the hood.”
Perceptive and smart. The combination had a lethal effect on her libido, heating her blood and further stoking her desires. “Color me impressed.”
“Eh.” He brushed off the compliment with a depreciative wave then tapped his temple. “There’s a wealth of useless information stored in here.”
She bit her lip, apprehensive to ask questions. Curiosity won in the end. “Tell me about yourself.” Twyla glanced over in time to see a wide chasm open between them. She made a mental note of this newest character trait he’d revealed and stored the information away for later contemplation. Personal questions were not welcomed.
“My birth certificate says Jhett Ramsey. Only ever heard bureaucrats and employers use it when on official business. Front of my flight helmet says Hammer, and that’s what my friends call me.” He shot her a speculative glance. “Which are you?”
“I hope to be both friend and colleague.”
“Ah, so it’s a job offer that’s put you on my six.” He gave a thoughtful nod.
“On your what?”
“Sorry, pilot lingo for rear quadrant or ass. You tracked my ass down for a job.”
He pulled the car up to a drive-thru window and placed an order suitable to feed an entire army—soda pop, chocola
te shake, double order of loaded fries, onion rings, two quarter-pound burgers with the works and a chili dog. He turned to her with a big grin. “You want anything?”
The skin around her eyes stretched as they widened. “All of that’s for you?”
“Yup.” One big hand patted his washboard abdomen. “I’m a growing boy.”
At six-five and weighing about two-twenty, Jhett was big and solid. He had to take care around most women since they were so fragile and small compared to him. He observed Twyla in his peripheral vision. He wouldn’t have to wear kid gloves with her. She’d be soft and able to handle whatever he dished out in bed with no protruding bones to worry about, only lots of curvy female flesh to cushion his hard thrusts. Hell yeah. Add in those mile-long legs wrapped tight around his hips and Jhett would be as close to heaven as he’d ever get.
She laughed, as he’d intended. “I’ll have a diet soda and a bacon double cheeseburger.”
“That’s it?”
She refused to meet his gaze, staring down at the floorboard instead, and nodded. Interesting. He wondered if it was shyness or embarrassment he witnessed.
After relaying her order they remained silent as a teenager handed over bag after bag of food. The aromas filling the car got her stomach growling.
Jhett drove out to a nearby park overlooking a picturesque lake. He parked, grabbed the bags and headed out to a picnic bench without uttering a word. Twyla would follow or she wouldn’t—the choice was hers and at the time he didn’t care. The past hour had given him a lot to think about.
None of his extensive training or any of the freaky shit he’d experienced could’ve prepared Jhett for the odd awareness running between them. The spark of recognition made him think that they’d met at some point when he’d never seen her before today. Hell, if he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d been someone special in his life—important and vital. And he wouldn’t even ponder the palpable bond he visualized as a string running from the center of his heart on a straight and true path to hers.