Midnight Revenge

by Elle Kennedy

  He cupped her chin with one large hand, and she shivered from the feel of his callused fingertips scraping her skin. Dark eyes studied her face, more thoughtful than she’d ever seen them. His lips parted slightly as he rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb.

  Sofia sat motionless in his lap. Waiting. Anticipating. Something was happening. Something new and strange and scary, tangling in her stomach and speeding her pulse, but she resisted the urge to put a stop to it. She wanted to know—no, she needed to know what intimacy with D would feel like. Which was ironic, considering they’d already had sex, the most intimate act there was.

  But that night two months ago hadn’t been intimate. It had been meaningless fucking.

  This, right now, meant something.

  D cleared his throat. “Uh . . .” His hand shook against her face. “I think this might be a bad idea—”

  Sofia pressed her mouth to his before he could finish that thought.

  Yep, she was being proactive.

  The moment their lips met, he froze again, the same way he’d frozen this morning. She kept her eyes open, saw that his were too, and gently eased her mouth back half an inch.

  “Don’t think,” she whispered. “Just . . . feel.”

  When their mouths met again, his lips were no longer hard and unyielding. They molded to hers, soft and sweet, the heat of his mouth searing her whole body. He kept one hand on her cheek. The other rested lightly against her hip, then tightened as she parted her lips to welcome his tongue.

  The first stroke was tentative. Curious, even. He tasted like peppermint and coffee and something seductively male, and the flavor of him suffused her taste buds, made her dizzy with desire. As their tongues gently moved against each other, her lower body rolled instinctively, seeking friction.

  D made a husky sound that vibrated against her lips. She felt him harden beneath his cargo pants, swell and thicken until his long erection pressed against her core. The knowledge that he was not only kissing her but also getting aroused by it was the most thrilling feeling she’d experienced.

  “Are you okay?” she murmured.

  His eyes were heavy lidded, burning bright. “I’m good. You?”

  “I’m more than good.” She cupped the back of his head to pull him close again, and the short bristles of his hair scratched her palms.

  She kissed him again and was rewarded to see his eyelids flutter shut. She closed her own eyes and lost herself in him. In the warmth of his mouth and the sudden hunger of his tongue as it tangled with hers. He chased her tongue into her mouth, thrusting greedily, groaning as he drove the kiss deeper.

  He clamped both hands around her waist and gave an upward rocking of his hips, his clothed erection sliding over the seam of her jeans. The delicious friction made her gasp, but he swallowed the breathy sound with another kiss. And then another. And another. Deep, drugging kisses that stole her sanity and had her panting for more.

  “D . . .” She wrenched their mouths apart, a sense of urgency overtaking her. “All that stuff you told me . . . about your parents . . . You wouldn’t have told me all that if . . .” She drew a much-needed breath. “You think we’re going to die, don’t you?”

  A part of her had hoped he’d contradict her, but D simply sighed and said, “Yes.”

  Chapter 17

  Sofia’s mouth was wet and swollen from his kisses. For some reason, D couldn’t tear his gaze off it. He . . .

  He liked kissing her.

  Actually, no. If the rock in his pants was any indication, he fucking loved kissing her.

  And even with his bleak answer hanging in the air between them, he was still aroused. Still stunned that Sofia’s lips had evoked such a visceral response in him. He was thirty-two years old, and this was the first time he’d gotten hard while making out with a woman. The first time he’d been content to just make out. He didn’t feel the overwhelming urge for release, that ball of tension that only hard-core fucking or a rough blow job could sate. He just wanted to keep kissing her.

  “You don’t have a plan?” Sofia asked quietly. “No thoughts about how we can get out of this?”

  “No.” He’d never lied to her before, and he wasn’t about to start now. They were screwed. Undeniably screwed.

  But . . . there might be a way to save her. The we part, as in both of them escaping with their lives? That ship had sailed long before he’d even reached out to Mendez. For all his talk about Bryant being responsible for Gael’s death, D knew that Mendez wouldn’t be satisfied with getting revenge against the man who’d “ordered” D to kill his son. D had pulled the trigger, and D would pay the price for it. He’d accepted that.

  Sofia, on the other hand . . . He could still save her. Maybe. It was unlikely that Mendez would agree to release her, but if D played his cards right, Sofia might stand a chance.

  “Okay, then,” she said, sounding resigned.

  Then she climbed off his lap and unbuttoned her jeans.

  It was difficult to catch him off guard, but with that one flick of a button, Sofia Amaro succeeded in making him gape.

  “What are you doing?”

  She kicked off her boots, then eased her jeans and panties down her shapely legs. “If we’re going to die, then we may as well make good use of the time we have left.”

  His mouth ran dry as he stared at her pussy. The narrowest strip of dark hair covered her mound, while the rest of her was bared to his gaze. He was so captivated by the sight that he barely noticed her remove her shirt and bra. Then she was naked, settling on his lap again as her delicate fingers reached for his zipper.

  “Sofia . . .”

  “What?” She sounded amused as she yanked on the metal tab. “Do you have a better suggestion for how we should spend our time in here?”

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. He’d always appreciated her take-charge attitude, but fucking was the last thing on his mind right now. He needed to stop this, pronto, before things got out of hand.

  His cock, however, had other ideas. It sprang into Sofia’s waiting palm the moment she undid his pants, and when she squeezed the shaft, a jolt of heat sizzled right down to his balls.

  “You left too soon that night,” she said with a sigh.

  He swallowed. “I did?”

  She nodded. “I wanted you again right after it was over. I was disappointed that it only happened once. I’ve thought about you . . . about this”—she squeezed his cock—“for two months, Derek. I want you inside me again.”

  Christ. If she kept saying shit like that, he would come long before he even got inside her. And forget about not letting things get out of hand. They were very much in hand. In her hand, as she stroked his cock so skillfully it brought stars to his eyes.

  “I can’t die without feeling you inside me at least one more time.” Her voice took on a throaty pitch. “So don’t fight me, okay?”

  She pumped his dick, one fast stroke, and a groan ripped from the back of his throat. “Ride me,” he rasped.

  Arousal darkened her eyes to a smoky hunter green. Gripping the base of his cock, she rose slightly, then lowered herself down on him. Her tight warmth surrounded his tip. Just the tip. Fuck, he needed more. He needed all of her. But she was teasing him, easing down a millimeter at a time. So agonizingly slow as she kept her gaze on his.

  The eye contact triggered the familiar rush of unease, a queasy pull on his insides, but when he clamped his eyelids shut, the heat of her pussy disappeared.

  “Look at me,” she commanded.

  He reluctantly opened his eyes. “It’s better if I don’t,” he mumbled.

  “No. It’s better if you do.”

  She leaned in and brushed her lips over his, and he surprised himself by deepening the kiss before she could pull away. Greedy and demanding, shoving his tongue through her parted lips in a desperate thrust. He wanted to swallow her up, to fucking drown in her. He didn’t understand it and he hated himself for his weakness, for this unexpected need she’d unlea
shed inside him. Not tension, not the carnal urge to empty his seed somewhere, but real, bone-deep need. For another person. For her.

  “I’m not just a nice, warm place for you to stick your dick,” she whispered, but she didn’t sound angry or critical. “I’m here, right here with you, and you need to be here with me too. I know why you don’t want to look at me. I know why you don’t want me looking at you.”

  His throat burned. Of course she knew why. He’d spilled his entire wretched history to her. Sofia was smart, perfectly capable of connecting the dots and figuring out why he kept his distance, why the thought of fucking someone and having them stare at him made him want to throw up.

  Don’t fucking say it, he wanted to shout at her.

  But Sofia didn’t voice the words. She simply cupped his cheeks and gave him another fleeting kiss. “I need you to be here with me,” she repeated. “Otherwise it means nothing.”

  D inhaled a shaky breath.

  “Can you do that for me?”

  Several seconds passed before he managed to make his head move in a jerky nod.

  “Thank you.” Two soft words, followed by an even softer kiss as she guided his cock back to her opening.

  He moaned when she seated herself fully, shocked by the burst of pleasure that rippled around his cock before shooting up his spine. She was tighter than he remembered. And wet. So fucking wet. His hips shot up instinctively, burying him deep, but when she let out a husky cry, he froze.

  “You’re . . . pregnant,” he croaked. Fuck, he’d been so distracted by the tight grip of her pussy that he’d forgotten all about her condition. “Maybe we shouldn’t . . .”

  “We should. Oh God, we really should.” She moved over him in a slow rhythm, soaking his shaft with her wetness.

  “You sure?” he said roughly.

  She ground harder against him, and his cock damn near exploded. “It’s . . . God, it’s so good. Sensitive but good.”

  Good didn’t even begin to describe how she was making him feel. Each wet glide over his dick sent him closer into oblivion. Their surroundings faded. He wasn’t aware of anything but the heat clamping around him, the smooth skin beneath his palms.

  He slid his hands up Sofia’s slender hips and cupped her tits, groaning when their heavy weight filled his palms. His eyes remained open as he toyed with her nipples, watching her gaze grow hazy, her lips part to release a soft sigh. He wished he were naked so he could feel her skin on his, the tight points of her nipples scraping his bare chest.

  Was this how sex was supposed to be? Was his heart supposed to be pounding this hard? His chest was tight and achy, pulse careening dangerously as unfamiliar sensations traveled through his body.

  No. Goddamn it. It was too fucking intense.

  His hands fell from her breasts, his mouth opening so he could put a stop to . . . to this. But Sofia spoke before he could.

  “Stay with me,” she urged, locking her hands around his neck. “It’s just you and me here, Derek.”

  Some of the panic in his chest dislodged. “Talk to me.” His voice was hoarse. “Remind me you’re here. Please.”

  “Okay.” She ran a reassuring hand over his cheek. “Okay. But you need to look at me. Keep looking at me, all right?”

  He nodded, his heart hammering faster.

  Sofia rocked her hips again, her inner muscles squeezing him tight. “Do you like being inside me?”

  “Fuck. Yes.”

  “I like it, too. I really . . . really . . . like it.” Each word was punctuated by the rise of her body, followed by a downward descent that drew his cock deep into her. “I feel full. I feel . . .” She moaned when his hips snapped up again. “That’s it, Derek. That’s what I want. Fuck me just like that.”

  He gave her what she wanted, utterly transfixed by the look on her face. Raw passion. Lust. But healthy lust. The kind he saw in the eyes of his teammates and their wives. Pleasure without pain. Arousal without malice or perversion.

  “I want to come,” she begged. “I want you to make me come.”

  He watched her intently. “How can I get you there?”

  “Touch me.” She yanked his hand off her waist and brought it to the juncture of her thighs, pressing his thumb to her clit. “Here.”

  He rubbed that swollen bud, fascinated by her responses. Light strokes made her moan. Circular ones made her gasp. He applied more pleasure and was rewarded by a low cry that had her spine arching.

  “Oh, like that. Just . . . like . . . that . . .”

  Sofia’s tits rose and fell rapidly with each hurried breath, and his gaze gravitated to her nipples, pink and puckered with excitement.

  D leaned in and licked one, and she jerked as if he’d struck her, another wild moan leaving her lips. He sucked the rigid bud deep in his mouth, his cock growing impossibly harder when he felt her nipple pulsing on his tongue. He continued to stroke her clit, rubbing faster.

  He stopped sucking on her nipple only when she began to shake with release. He lifted his head so he could see her face, and the sight of her took his breath away. Flushed cheeks, parted lips, green eyes glittering like brilliant emeralds.

  He was so busy watching her come that his own orgasm caught him by complete surprise. Pleasure surged through him in hot, pulsing waves, burning him from the inside out. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her breasts, breathing hard.

  What the fuck had just happened?

  “D.” Her palm gently ran over the back of his head, her touch strong and soothing. “Look at me.”

  He weakly lifted his head. “Jesus,” he choked out.

  Her mouth twitched before curving in a smile. “That wasn’t so bad, huh?”

  Before he could stop it, a laugh flew out. Bad? Christ, he was still harder than granite, his cock recovering within seconds from that mind-shattering climax.

  Sofia’s eyes widened when he gave a slight thrust. “Wow. Okay. Did I just create a monster?”

  The laughter continued to pour out, even as he gently moved them forward so his body covered hers. He kept his hands beneath her back, creating a barrier between her bare skin and the cold floor. He didn’t give a shit if the cracked stones scraped up his knuckles. He needed her again. Now.

  “Are you sore?” he asked gruffly.

  “No.” Her eyes twinkled. “Are you?”

  “No.” He withdrew his cock, then slid back in. She was still so wet. God, this woman was going to kill him. “I want you again. I . . . need you again.”

  Her hand rose, fingers skimming his cheek. “Then take me.”

  • • •

  Sofia couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. Derek Pratt had completely transformed. The man who’d screwed her from behind in her kitchen two months ago was now lying on top of her, his hungry gaze fixed on her as if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted to memorize every inch of her face so he could refer to it later.

  His body was warm and solid. She should’ve felt trapped, crushed, but she didn’t. She felt safer and more content than she ever had in her life, and her own body was already coming to life again, melting beneath him as delicious dampness crept between her legs.

  She needed him again too.

  “Take me,” she repeated as she peered up at him.

  He answered not with words but with action, plunging deep as his mouth crashed over hers. A thrill raced up her spine. He was kissing her again, so passionately that she didn’t even have a chance to come up for air. But oxygen was overrated. She didn’t need it. Didn’t need to breathe, not when he was filling her again, reawakening the pleasure inside her.

  He didn’t beg her to talk this time. His mouth stayed glued to hers as his hips flexed and retreated, his cock driving into her with urgent strokes.

  Sofia’s hands traveled down his back. He was still fully clothed, damn it. She wanted to strip him naked, run her fingers over every hard inch of flesh, but she settled for sliding her hands beneath his waistband and squeezing his taut ass. G
od, his ass was perfect. Round and muscular, quivering beneath her hands as he fucked her.

  The pregnancy had turned her body into a hypersensitive bundle of nerve endings, heightening every sensation so that every stroke of his cock was a blinding rush of ecstasy. And her breasts had never felt heavier or as achy as they brushed against his chest.

  “Come for me again,” D rasped against her mouth. “I want to see it again.”

  “See . . . what?” she managed to choke out.

  “The look on your face.” His hand moved between them. “It was fucking beautiful, Sofia. I want it again.”

  He pressed his thumb on her clit and rubbed. Teased and toyed and stroked until the pressure in her core detonated in a dizzying blast of bliss.

  “Yeah. That’s what I wanted,” D groaned, slowing his pace as he stared at her face. “Fuck . . . fuck.” He thrust one last time, a shudder rocking his powerful body as he came again.

  Sofia could barely catch her breath. It was like a tornado had flown through the cell and knocked her off her feet. She’d always known that Derek Pratt was a force of nature, but holy hell, when the man let go, he really let go.

  “Are you okay?” He carefully slid his hands out from under her and sat up.

  “I’m—” She gasped when she saw his knuckles. “Oh shit. Your hands.”

  D seemed unconcerned by the bloody scrapes. “I’m fine.”

  She was touched when she realized he’d kept his hands beneath her to protect her back. God, just when she thought she’d gotten a handle on this man, he flipped it around and showed her a new side of himself.

  Sofia picked up her discarded clothing and hurriedly threw everything back on, then snapped into doctor mode as she knelt beside D. She used the bottom of her shirt to sop up the blood, which was all she could really do at the moment. She had no gauze or antiseptic, nothing but the clothes she was wearing.

  Chuckling, he moved his hands out of her grasp. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

  Men. Why did they always act like everything was no big deal? The last time she’d treated D for a serious concussion, he’d said the same damn thing—I’m fine. Yeah fucking right.