by M. L. Rhodes
Miguel tensed. “Stay put,” he ordered as he slipped past her, drawing his weapon.
Elizabeth's heart skipped in her chest. Had he heard something?
He crept along the wall, back toward the outside door, and peered through a crack she could just see a thin gray streak of daylight through. Then he was by her side again almost before she could breathe.
"We're about to have company. Stay quiet. We're not far from Galista's compound, so it could be some of his men.” His words were barely heard over the storm.
Oh, no. Memories of the gunfire in the bar last night came back to haunt her. She counted herself lucky to have survived that incident with all the bullets flying around. She was terrified she might not be as lucky if it happened again.
Miguel wrapped an arm around her as if he sensed her panic. His other hand still held his gun. “They're probably just getting out of the storm like we are. If we stay quiet, they may not ever know we're here."
She nodded, too scared to speak.
The sound of a car driving into the barn just on the other side of the wall next to them set her to shaking. A door slammed. Then another.
Miguel's grip on her tightened. He leaned forward and peered through one of the cracks in the wooden wall.
Elizabeth waited, barely brave enough to breathe. With the storm torturing the barn, she knew any tiny noises she might make would probably be masked. Yet that didn't calm her fear.
Miguel suddenly stiffened next to her. “Fucking hell,” he groaned under his breath.
"What?” The whispered word came out before she remembered she wasn't supposed to say anything. She looked up at him, hoping she hadn't just screwed up.
In the deep gray shadows she could make out his jaw clenching and releasing. But he wasn't looking at her. He was still focused on what was happening on the other side of the wall.
She heard laughter—a woman's high-pitched giggle. It was followed by a gravelly male voice speaking Spanish.
Morbid curiosity drove Elizabeth to lean forward and find her own crack to peep through. The main area of the barn was well-lit in spite of the storm, both from the open door the rusted-out sedan had driven through, and from the numerous windows high up near the roof.
Oh. Lord. She dragged in a breath and let it out in a ragged gust.
The man wore a gun in a shoulder holster similar to Miguel's and had another strapped to his thigh. The one on his leg wasn't there long, though; he was unfastening it even as Elizabeth watched.
But her eyes couldn't seem to stay focused on him ... not with the woman ripping out of her clothes faster than seemed humanly possible, and giggling the whole time. Her blouse was already draped over a bale of hay. Her short-shorts slid down her long, dark legs, and when they reached her feet, she kicked them in the air. They landed on a broken piece of wood jutting from the outer wall. Standing in nothing but a thong, black lace push-up bra with bountiful breasts spilling over the top, and killer stiletto heels, she crooked her finger at the man.
He was a hulking fellow, not as tall as Miguel, but considerably heavier. He was already unbuckling his belt, and the woman sauntered closer to help. She tugged it loose, released his zipper, and although Elizabeth couldn't see what exactly she was doing to him, the look of ecstasy on the man's face gave her a good idea.
When he said something in guttural Spanish, the woman just laughed again, her full breasts jiggling. She turned, presented him her bare-cheeked backside, and gave it a gyration.
He bellowed, scooped her up, and stalked to the hay bale, where he sat and laid her face down, ass up over his lap. He began peeling her thong down but grew frustrated, so he gave it a yank, then chuckled in triumph when he held the broken scrap of satin in his hand. He tossed it over his shoulder.
The woman's naked rear-end pointed in Miguel and Elizabeth's direction, and Elizabeth couldn't tear her eyes off the sight of the man's thick, dark hand caressing it. He stroked over the round cheeks, slid a finger along her crack down to the woman's pussy, then back up again. All the while the woman squirmed against him. When the man's hand suddenly came down with a loud thwack on the woman's ass, she squealed.
Elizabeth jumped and almost gasped except for Miguel's hand closing over her mouth in time.
"Shhh,” he said in her ear and waited for her to nod before he slowly uncovered her mouth. He moved in behind her so every inch of her back side pressed to his chest and groin. Between his husky whisper and the hard heat of his body nestled in intimate contact with hers, a ripple of need spread through her, settling in her core, where it started a slow burn.
She should have turned away from the sight of the other couple, but she didn't. Couldn't. What was wrong with her today? Now she was a voyeur on top of everything else?
The man spanked the woman again, and the woman cried out. She said something—Elizabeth didn't have a clue what—but from the tone of it, it didn't sound like she was complaining. More like asking for more.
Elizabeth could almost feel the heat of the spanking on her own fanny, and she fought the urge to squirm, knowing her actions would only rub her against Miguel's groin. She was embarrassed by her reaction to watching the couple, and didn't want him to know about it.
But each time the man's hand made contact with the woman's flesh, and the woman moaned in pleasure, Elizabeth squeezed her thighs together against the currents of heat that surged through her. When the man paused in his punishing and slid his hand over the woman's bright red ass, then spread the half-moons apart and thrust his fingers into her pussy, Elizabeth barely managed to hold back a moan.
Miguel's arms tightened around her waist and she felt his breath against her neck.
While the man plunged his thick fingers in and out of the woman, all Elizabeth could think about was the feel of Miguel behind her, and how badly she wanted him to touch her. Really touch her. Stroke her. Rub her. Probe her. In all the right places. Their situation, logic ... none of it mattered. All she cared about right now was that she was utterly turned on, the sexiest man she'd ever met was behind her, and she wanted to know what it would feel like to lose control with him.
In the other room, the woman screamed in climax. But that wasn't the end. In a quick movement, the man lifted her off him and jerked down his pants, letting them puddle around his ankles. He pushed the woman face-first over the hay bale so her flaming rear was in the air, then knelt behind her. Elizabeth could see his cock—nearly purple it was so erect. He teased it against the woman's cheeks, then her slit, and without further ado, shoved it home. He began pumping into her with gusto, and she screamed him onward, thrusting back to meet him. The sound of their damp flesh slapping together filled the barn in spite of the storm.
Oh, God. Elizabeth closed her eyes. She couldn't watch anymore. Her legs felt like noodles, and she'd thought she was in hell before, but that was nothing compared to this desperate, painful longing that ached inside her. The heat of Miguel's hands burned through her T-shirt. His breath against her neck was making her insane. His muscular thighs cradled her ass ... teasing, but not giving anything up. And she knew he was getting as hard as she was wet because she could feel the bulge of his erection against the small of her back.
Please. Please, please, please. Touch me like you did earlier. Touch me or I'm going to die.
A soft growl sounded behind her. Big hands slid up under her tee, sizzling her skin as they stroked her waist. “Far be it for me to let you die,” he whispered, his breath a flame against her ear.
Had she said that last out loud?
But it didn't matter anymore when his palms feathered up over her ribs and finally, finally, brushed her aching nipples. As he rolled the distended nubs between his fingers, he nosed her hair out of the way, and his steaming lips settled in the ultra-sensitive hollow between her neck and shoulder. Her breath came out in ragged gasps and she let her head fall back against his chest.
She grasped one of his hands and pressed it down, urging him to explore.
He unfastened her jeans with ease, and she wiggled her hips, making more room for his hand to get inside. Which it did, slipping under her thin silk panties, burrowing through her curls, and, in a slow, sweet stroke, easing into the dripping heat of her cunt.
Afraid she'd cry out and give them away, she bit her bottom lip. But she couldn't stop the desperate undulation of her hips against his magic finger that knew exactly where to press, how hard, how fast. Miguel's other hand stayed busy at her breast, being careful not to squeeze and hurt her, but showing no such mercy to her beaded nipple.
Elizabeth no longer knew what was happening in the other room. But between the man's grunting and the woman's screaming and moaning, along with the rain slamming against the roof, she knew she and Miguel weren't in imminent danger of discovery. Still ... even as her body writhed and became more and more lost to Miguel's fondling, she was fully aware of the dangerous predicament they were in. Yet, somehow, that knowledge only amplified her desire.
Miguel pulled his hand out of her pants, and she barely caught herself before protesting aloud. He turned her so she faced him, and gazed down at her for several seconds. Even in the semi-darkness she could see his eyes burning into her. Was he going to shut her out and reject her again? No. Please, no.
But then he was tugging at her shirt, pulling it up and over her head.
He leaned in close to her. “You can't make a sound,” he whispered in her ear. “No matter how good it feels, not a sound. Can you do that?” He gazed down at her again.
She nodded.
"Good girl."
He eased her jeans and panties over her hips and pushed them down. When they fell around her ankles, she kicked them off, along with her sandals.
It was only then a wave of heat flooded her ... was it embarrassment or acute awareness? She was wasn't sure. Here she stood, completely nude, in a dark barn in Mexico, with a thug and his girlfriend fucking like maniacs in the room next door, and her own desperado looking at her like he could eat her alive.
He just stood there, only a foot away from her, staring at her. What was he thinking?
"Fuck.” It was part quiet growl, part groan. He suddenly dragged her against him and kissed her. Then, in another one of those steamy whispers in her ear, he said, “If every man had a woman like you to look at, no one would get anything done. All they'd be able to think about was how fast and how often they could take you to bed."
Elizabeth barely had time to let his words sink in before his mouth found hers again. She met him eagerly. The man kissed like ... well, she didn't know like what. Maybe he stood in a class by himself. He was brilliant. A master.
She needed to feel his skin against hers and reached between them to pull up his shirt. But his gun holster posed a problem and she didn't have any idea how to get it out of the way. Miguel stripped it off and set it and his gun on the seat inside the Explorer. They both pushed and pulled on his shirt, tearing their lips apart only long enough for him to get it over his head and discard it.
Her fingers explored the sculpted planes of his chest, teased over pebbled nipples in a light dusting of hair, then grazed his abdomen to discover his six pack was everything she'd thought it would be. A thin line of coarse hair began just below his navel and disappeared into his waistband. Wanting to follow it, she worked at his belt buckle, then practically tore at the snap and zipper on his jeans.
Heat surged from his groin, radiating around her hands. She barely noticed the elastic band of his briefs as she pushed past it. His cock was hot, hard as sin, and jutting upright from a thick nest of dark pubic curls. Using her right hand, which was less sore than her left, she sheathed him in her palm. It was all she could do not to groan at the feel of him.
He did groan, but it was swallowed by Elizabeth's mouth and a convenient rumble of thunder that shook the barn.
Miguel lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her wet folds settled against the fiery skin on his stomach, and the tip of his cock caressed her ass. A quick shudder rocked through her—not a climax, but one of those mini-almost-climaxes that hinted of things to come, yet only left her wanting more. She squirmed against him.
He took two steps and set her on the still-warm hood of the Explorer. Pulling his mouth off hers, he spread her legs wide, lowered his head between them, and buried his tongue in her pussy.
Oh, Jesus.
She grabbed his head, partly to encourage him—not that he needed it—partly for support. Her back arched and it took every ounce of her willpower not to moan—hell, scream—her pleasure.
That same magnificent technique he kissed with had its other uses. And his tongue ... good God, she could learn to worship that tongue and the things it could do.
Pinpricks of sensation tingled through her legs, followed by that euphoric moment of floating that preceded an orgasm. But instead of letting her come, he seemed to sense how close she was, so he teased her, drawing it out, leaving her hanging for what felt like an eternity.
Her whole body trembled.... hummed ... then, finally, at long last, he let her fly. She managed to keep quiet, God knows how, but her hips surged off the hood of the car, clenching so tight and for so long she had a bizarre moment of wondering if it was possible to die from coming too hard.
Miguel had withdrawn his mouth when the climax took her, letting her experience the full glory of her orgasm without the further stimulation some men insisted on that only ended up frustrating her. Elizabeth could have kissed him for reacting so perfectly.
And he only endeared himself to her even more when, after the last shudder disappeared, then, and only then, did he return, his tongue gentle but fast in exactly the right way, and enticed a second, even more powerful explosion from her.
He straightened and lowered his mouth to hers in a deep, probing kiss. She tasted herself on him, and even though she wouldn't have dreamed she could still be horny, she was.
She locked her arms around his neck and slid forward on the hood. “I want you. In me,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around his waist again and wiggling her hips so her wet slit brushed his abs.
He hissed in a breath at the contact, then pulled her head close and rested his forehead against hers. “That's exactly where I want to be, but we can't. No protection.” The words were barely more than a hushed groan, and she felt his frustration.
"Oh, God,” she murmured, knowing he was right, but needing him so much it hurt. Grunts and cries still echoed out of the main room, so they were safe for a bit longer. “Okay ... there are other things..."
She reached down and wrapped a hand around his throbbing length. In a moment of inspiration, she rubbed her hand over her sopping pussy, covering her fingers in her own juices, and smeared them over Miguel's cock. It leapt at her touch, and she could feel the dark heat of his gaze searing into her. She repeated the action several times until his dick glistened in the gray light. Then, once more, she closed her hand around him and began to stroke him.
His hands fell to his sides, his head tipped back, and an expression of raw vulnerability slid over his sculpted face.
That sight, along with the feel of his turgid rod in her hand, was one of the biggest aphrodisiacs she'd ever experienced.
Up ... down ... she moved, letting her thumb slide over his smooth cockhead between strokes. With her other hand she cupped his heavy balls, rolling them gently. Miguel gave a soft moan, obviously approving.
Elizabeth had never felt this empowered, this daring, or this openly sensuous with a man before. Something about Miguel stirred things to life inside her—emotions, toe-curling, skin-tingling primal reactions. And she'd never felt more alive.
His erection pulsed in her hand, and by the tight lines forming on his forehead in concentration, she knew he was getting close. One of his hands closed over hers, slowing her down, guiding her hand in long strokes from his tip to deep at the base of his dick.
He raised his head and the look he gave her, sexy and sultry as hell, caused her to shudder
in response. While he continued jacking himself, with his other hand he pulled hers loose and placed it on her pussy.
Her breath caught and she stared at him.
"Touch yourself.” His voice was a husky whisper. “I want to watch you."
Forbidden passion rippled through her, settling right in her swollen clit. She'd never masturbated in front of anyone—but at the look on his face, and watching him stroke his thick pole, her fingers began to move without further prompting.
"That's it,” he murmured, watching her actions. His glittering gaze slid back up to her face. “Christ, you're beautiful."
Unexpected tears stung her eyes at his words. “So are you,” she whispered back.
It didn't take long for the tell-tale tingles to spring to life in Elizabeth. She knew her body well, and knew exactly how to get where she wanted to go. But watching Miguel's big hand pump his cock added a whole new dimension to it. She couldn't tear her eyes from the sight, and had the sudden urge to feel his come splattering on her.
Her own climax hit her hard and fast, brought on by those thoughts. And when her eyes fluttered open it was just in time to see Miguel's close in pleasure-pain as the first wave of semen spurted from him. Without hesitation, she reached down and aimed his cock at her. His eyelids flew opened in question at what she was doing, then he grimaced as another surge spewed forth, this time hitting her on the breasts, as did the next, and the next, until, eventually, he'd spent himself.
His hot seed was even more of a turn-on than she'd imagined, coating her flesh, dripping off her nipples, and in shuddering convulsion, she brought herself off again. Then she swiped a finger through his cream, brought it to her mouth, and licked it clean.
Miguel stared at her, his face a study in contrasts between astonishment, sated exhaustion, and that possessive look that left her dizzy.
He closed the slight distance between them and pulled her against his chest. He didn't seem to mind that his action was getting them both wet and slippery. With one hand he stroked her hair. The other rubbed up and down her back. Elizabeth curled her arms around his neck, laid her head on his shoulder, and let him hold her.
