And just like that, I was all melty and whimpering again, leaning into him, lifting my face to deepen the kiss, my hands gliding up the back of his jacket to curl around the nape of his neck, clutching him to me.
By the time the kiss broke, I was breathless and my thighs were quivery and I was seconds from climbing back on the bike and telling him to take me somewhere private.
Instead, I backed away, somewhat reluctantly. “I should go. I’m meeting Claire in the morning.”
He released me, seeming as reluctant as I was. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
I just winked at him. “Call me in the afternoon.”
“I don’t have your number.”
I shot him a glare. “Yeah, it’s probably the only number in the city you don’t have,” I said. “I’m sure your brother can get it for you.”
Zane lifted up and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a crumpled stack of scrap papers, each scribbled with phone numbers in feminine handwriting. “What…these numbers?” He asked, holding them up. “I don’t want ‘em. Never did.”
The rain had finally quit, leaving everything wet and glistening in the darkness. Zane dug in an inside pocket of his coat, producing a silver Zippo lighter embossed with the SEAL logo. He flicked open the lid and snapped the spark wheel across his thigh in a single fast move, a flame bursting into life. He held the stack of paper upside down and let the flame lick at the edges. I watched in amusement and secret satisfaction as the fire consumed the scraps of paper. When the fire had caught fully, Zane tossed the entire pile to the ground and we watched it burn until there was nothing left but flakes of ash skirling in the gentle breeze.
He put the Zippo back in his jacket pocket and turned his gaze to mine. “Only number I want is yours, sweetheart, and it only counts if you give it to me.” He chuckled. “Fact is, though, if he really wanted to look hard enough, Xavier could probably get hold of your university transcripts, your medical record, your driving record, your credit score—shit, if your info is held in an electronic system pretty much anywhere, he could access it. He wouldn’t, though. Just saying…he could.”
“Is it really that easy?” I asked.
Zane shrugged. “Sure, if you know how and where to look. I couldn’t do it, but for Xavier? Easier than programming a new remote control.”
I patted his hip pockets, his back pockets, and then inside his jacket, hunting for his phone. I found it in the jacket, pulled it out, and handed it to him to unlock. He held his thumb on the home button and gave it back to me. His home screen was a photo of him in full commando gear, an assault rifle held in one hand resting on his shoulder, a helmet on, wraparound sunglasses on his face. He was in the back of a cargo jet, it looked like, the cargo door open behind him showing the ground blue-green in the distance, with four similarly-geared other men in the photo with him, posing for the selfie with goofy grins.
I stared at the photo for a moment, and then turned the screen to him. “Who are these guys?” I asked.
He named them, starting on the left and tapping each one in turn. “Marco Campo, Oscar Moyer, Luis Valtierra, me, and Cody Kellogg.” He paused a moment, obviously remembering, a complicated expression on his face, equal parts nostalgic happiness, and sadness. “They were part of my SEAL team.”
“Did you guys have nicknames for each other?”
He chuckled, nodding. “Of course. Marco was Campy, Oscar was either Wiener or the Grouch, Luis was Pinche, which is only funny if you know anything about Spanish insults. Cody was Frosted Flakes, or Frosty, because somebody got ahold of his senior pictures and he had these really wicked cool frosted tips, and his name is Kellogg.”
“What was your nickname?”
He glanced at his boots, grinning. “Baddass.” He laughed as if embarrassed, and then continued. “You know, because of my last name, obviously. And then there was that time in San Diego, right after BUD/S. I got into a bar fight with a bunch of jarheads from Twentynine Palms. Well, there were, like, eight of them and one of me, so my boys showed up thinking they were gonna have to save my ass. I told ‘em I didn’t need any fuckin’ help, because I didn’t.”
I eyed him skeptically. “Eight of them? At once?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I got messed up, but I sure as fuck didn’t lose.” He lifted his upper lip out of the way with a thumb, pointing at a couple teeth that were a little whiter and straighter than the others. “Lost a few teeth, broken nose, bruised ribs, fucked up my knuckles pretty good, and got my ass chewed off by the X-O, but hell, it earned me a pretty killer nickname.”
I shook my head. “You boys and your fighting.” I found his contact list and added a new one: For a good time, Call—and I added my cell number, then called myself from his phone so I’d have his number, too. I locked the phone and handed it back to him. “There. You have my number and I have yours. See you tomorrow?”
He stuffed the phone back into his jacket and hauled me up against him. “Unless I can convince you to invite me in.”
I rolled my eyes and huffed at him, pushing away. “Is that all you ever think about?”
He grinned. “When I’m around you? Yeah, pretty much.”
“You’re terrible,” I said, trying to wriggle out of his clutches, but he wasn’t letting go.
“No, the name’s Badd, sweetheart. Two D’s.” He had me pressed up against him, his hands wandering, and really, I wasn’t trying that hard to get away.
I groaned. “Jesus. You make puns on your own name.” I shook my head, slapping his chest. “Now let me go, for real. I barely slept last night, and tomorrow is my last day with Claire.”
He released me, climbing off the bike and pivoting to sit on it properly. “Fine, go get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it.”
I backed away from him before my body betrayed my better sense by propelling me back into his hands. “Flattery will get you—well, pretty far, actually.”
He grinned, one eyebrow lifted. “In that case, I should mention that I’ll probably be awake most of the night, thinking about how beautiful you looked in the moonlight, topless and doing amazing things to me with your mouth.”
“Awake doing what, exactly?” I asked, even though I already knew, obviously.
“What do you think? Wishing my hand was your mouth.”
I forced myself to continue moving away. “Really? You can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“With the mental images you gave me? Hell no.”
I had no response for that except a stupid, happy grin. I waved at him and finally turned away. “Bye, Zane.”
“Sweet dreams, Mara.”
I didn’t look back until I had the door closed behind me, and then I peeked out the window at him as he rumbled away. I went to my room, undressed and pulled on the oversized T-shirt I’d brought as pajamas, and then brushed my teeth, as much to get rid of the come-breath as for the sake of dental hygiene. In the moment, Zane’s come had tasted amazing, more because of how much I’d enjoyed his reactions than anything, but now that the flavor had…steeped, so to speak, I was more than ready to brush and gargle it away.
Of course, thinking about Zane’s come, and Zane’s reactions led to me thinking about Zane, and Zane’s cock, and how it had felt in my hands and how it had tasted in my mouth.
And of course, Zane had gotten me pretty worked up before I’d stopped him, so now I was feeling all…tense and horny and needy. I didn’t regret stopping him, though, because I knew myself well enough to know that if I’d let him go down on me right then, the next thing I knew he’d have been inside me. I wasn’t opposed to sex outside, especially because that spot had been pretty damn secluded and private, so it wasn’t that I’d been worried about being discovered, it was more that some instinct was telling me to limit true intimacy with Zane. Keep some level of space between us; keep it impersonal to a degree. That was the instinct, at least, and that was what had me pushing Zane off me.
I’d have relished the magnificent orgasm he’d have giv
en me, but I was also not entirely sure he had a condom, and I knew I didn’t, and while obviously I was on the shot, I still wasn’t about to run the risk of being part of the one percent if my birth control failed. Plus, Zane bare? Dangerous, that. Very, very dangerous.
I was lying in the bed, trying to fall asleep and failing. Trying to pretend I wasn’t horny, and failing. Trying to pretend I didn’t have a vivid mental image of Zane naked in the bathroom, one hand braced on the wall, the other sliding hard and fast on his erect cock. He’d be groaning my name, of course, eyes closed, abs tensed as he jerked himself to a cursing, weak-in-the-knees orgasm. I could picture that O, too, the way he’d dip at the knees and groan long and low, the way his cock would spurt a thick white stream of come into the toilet…
The hem of my T-shirt had ridden up, and I had my nice fantasy going. And hey, wouldn’t you know I’d brought my LELO? Why pretend, at this point? I fished the vibrator out of my toiletries bag and got back in bed. And then, for some reason, said fuck it and ripped off my T-shirt. I wasn’t sure what was coming over me, but as I pictured Zane’s fist sliding on his cock, my LELO buzzing around my clit, my eyes kept drifting to my cell phone, laying on the nightstand.
No, Mara.
Nope.
Don’t do it, ho.
Do NOT sext Zane.
Of course, I didn’t listen to myself. I mean, where’s the fun in that?
I kept the vibrator on low for the moment, content to draw this out a little. I kept fighting the urge to grab my phone for another…um, thirty seconds, max, and then set the vibrator aside, because I was so about to sext Zane Badd. I grabbed the phone, and opened the front-facing camera. I made sure the ambient light was low enough to be sexy but not so dark that I’d need a flash, and then took a couple test selfies. God, my hair was a mess—I finger-combed it to look sexy and sultry, like I’d just been lying in bed looking this good. Part of me demanded that I go put on at least a coat of lip-gloss and maybe some eye shadow, but I resisted it; this whole thing with Zane was turning into an experiment in pushing myself outside my comfort zone. Spending time with Zane outside of bed was a big start, and now I was going to not just text him, not just send him a selfie, but I was going to sext him? Like, send nudes? Way outside my comfort zone. And without any makeup on? Lunacy. Utter madness.
But there I was, lying on my back in bed, hair on point, phone held above me. I played with a few poses until I found one that looked fairly natural, laying so my hips were flat on the bed but my torso was twisted to one side, my arm draped in such a way that my breast was visible but not my nipple. Eyes looking sleepy, a little horny—click-click-click.
I snapped a few and swiped through them, satisfied with at least one.
I pulled up Zane’s number, saved it in my phone, and started a text message thread.
Me: You up?
“Delivered” popped up immediately, and then after maybe twenty seconds switched to “read”; another few seconds, and the gray bubble with the three dots appeared.
Him: Yeah. I like how you saved your number in my phone. ;-)
Oooh, I got a winky emoticon? I probably shouldn’t read too much into it, but Zane just didn’t seem like the type to throw smiley and winky emoticons into every text—just a hunch.
Me: Thought you’d appreciate that. LOL.
Me: WYD?
Him: Trying to sleep and failing. You?
I hesitated a moment, and then attached the best photo from the three I’d taken, and hit ‘send’ before I could second-guess myself.
Him: Goddamn, Mara. Can you be any sexier?
Him: Wait, I can answer that myself. Yes, you can. Just point the camera down a little further…
I rolled to my back and held the camera over my head to snap a photo looking down at myself. I didn’t like that one, though, because gravity had my tits sagging to either side, which just wasn’t flattering. I squeezed my arms against my sides and held the phone with both hands so my arms propped my breasts up and pushed them together; much better.
I sent the photo, and then attached a message:
Me: Like that?
Him: I was trying to wait till I saw you to…you know. But after that photo? Not sure I’m gonna be able to hold out.
Me: If you do, send a pic of you doing it.
Him: I’ve never taken a naked selfie before, so I can’t promise it’ll be any good, but…
And then a pic appeared in the thread, Zane naked. He’d taken it lying down in his bed, with the camera at an almost upside down oblique angle so it was looking down the length of his body from the top of his head. The angle showed every glorious inch of him, his intense brown eyes turned up to stare into the camera, muscles popping, his cock erect and laying flat against his belly.
Jesus. The man was so gorgeous it was just absolutely unreal. Like, I got to touch him? Kiss him? Fuck him? Soon I’d get to have that cock all up inside me, pleasuring me with all those long, thick, hard inches? How lucky was that? I’d be a fool to pass up any opportunity to have him for myself.
I grabbed my LELO and held it up by my face, snapping a photo of me staring at the vibrator in fake shock, sending it with a caption:
Me: Ooops…where’d this come from?
Him: Fuck me, Mara, you’re killing me. How about a little video of you using that thing?
Me: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours…
Me: And when you say things like fuck me, I have a tendency to take them as an invitation.
Him: I can be at your door six minutes flat, and inside you in seven.
Me: I have a better idea. Hold on a minute.
I fired up the vibrator and pressed it to my clit, gasping as sensation immediately ripped through me. I held the camera up and hit the red ‘record’ circle, and then panned down, starting at my face. I was already moaning, so I just let myself go, keeping the camera pointed down to capture the shaft of the LELO sliding into my channel, keeping it focused there as I began moving it in and out of myself, gasping and whimpering every time the smaller clitoral stimulator pressed against me. I panned back up to my face, pleased to see myself looking flushed and sexy.
“Oh god,” I whimpered, “Oh my god.”
Then back down, as the vibrator slid in and out rhythmically, my gasps and breathless little shrieks coming faster and faster as I neared orgasm.
“Zane, holy shit, Zane. I wish it was you…god, god—”
And then I came, my hips flying off the bed, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming out loud, recording the entirety of the orgasm.
When I finally finished coming, I was breathless and sweaty, but I turned the camera back to my face. “Now it’s your turn,” I said, giving the camera my best sexy, sultry, just-fucked look, and then ended the recording. I sent it immediately, and then waited eagerly for his reply.
The wait was agony. It seemed like it was an eternity before my phone blooped to alert me that he’d sent a reply.
The still showed his face and part of his chest, and then when I touched the video to play it, the view panned down to show his big, hard cock with his fist around it, sliding slowly; he was still in his bedroom, laying on his bed. I heard a click off-camera, and then a small bottle of lube appeared and I watched him squirt a small amount onto his cock. His fist slid faster now, squelching wetly. Faster, faster, and I heard him gasping and groaning, and every now and again he’d pan up to look into the camera as I’d done before returning the camera to the action.
I’d just come, but watching his fist slide on his cock was turning me on more than ever. I put the vibrator inside myself again and started moving it in and out to the rhythm of Zane’s fist jacking himself.
Even watching him, I could tell when he was close. His abs flexed and his hips lifted, and his groans went guttural.
“Fuck, fuck. Mara, god,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “Even now, all I can think about is—oh fucking hell, I’m so close—is the way your mouth felt on my cock. I wish it were
you right now. Shit, oh shit, I’m—”
Thank god he kept the camera focused on his cock, because that moment when he came, was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen, hot enough to push me over the edge for the second time, searing pleasure shooting through me at the sight of Zane orgasming. His jerking strokes blurred and his hips flexed off the bed, and then he growled low in his throat as he came. Come spurted out of him in a white stream, splashing across his stomach and up onto chest. He kept jerking himself as another spurt left him to pool on his stomach, again and again.
I thought of what he’d said, how he wanted to come all over me, and in that moment, watching him jerk off onto himself, I could very easily imagine how it would feel to have his come on my flesh. I’d done a lot of things, but never that. I’d never let a guy demonstrate any kind of dominance over me, never done anything that smacked of me demeaning myself. But somehow, it felt like if I let Zane come on me, it wouldn’t be demeaning…it’d be hot. It’d be erotic as hell, and thrilling. Sexy. I’d lick it away and smear it all over myself and tease him with it, make him taste himself on my mouth.
Me: And I just came again watching you
Him: I watched your video like three times. You are so hot it’s ridiculous.
Me: You know what I think is hot?
Him: What?
Me: The thought of you doing that again, but on me.
Him: Onto you where?
Me: Anywhere? Everywhere?
Him: Paint you white with my sperm is what you’re saying?
Me: LOL exactly.
Him: I literally JUST came, and now I’m getting hard again thinking about you with my cum all over your tits.
Me: Hold that thought until tomorrow.
Him: Like I said, I can be there in six minutes.
Me: I really do need to sleep now. Plus I just came twice in ten minutes, so I’m all tuckered out now anyway.
I took a photo of myself pretending to sleep, twisted slightly to the side so my boobs looked good, the vibrator visible in the lower corner.
Him: Okay, okay. Till tomorrow then. Good night.
Him: By the way, I’m gonna save the video and photos, but I hope it goes without saying that I’m the only one who’ll ever see them.
Badd Ass (Badd Brothers Book 2) Page 7
