Hook

by Delilah Devlin

  He hungrily drew on the tip, until he felt her hips begin to move, her pussy clasping and releasing around his digit. He wagged his head, pulling on the tip, and then bit it.

  Her gasp held a note of delight, so he moved across to the other nipple and fluttered his tongue against the tip until her fingernails dug into his skin. “Dylan…”

  Hook moved lower, planting kisses on her ribs, her belly. When his mouth hovered above her pussy, he glanced upward to find her staring, tears pooling. “Don’t stop,” she said.

  As if he could. He felt fluid ooze from his dick, but he wasn’t stopping. She was giving him a gift. He’d make this special for her as well.

  He withdrew his finger then dipped his head to trail his tongue between her folds and tasted her. Like the sea, but spicy. Womanly. He tunneled his tongue inside her, feeling certain he was pleasing her by her throaty cries. When he licked upward, he detected the small hard knot. With his fingers, he pulled up the cloak hiding it then gently rubbed his wet tongue over the nubbin, while her fingers dug into his hair and pulled.

  “Please, Dylan,” she said, her head thrashing on a pillow. “Come inside me.”

  She was ready. So was he. He moved up her body, his tongue dragging on her skin. He mouthed her nipples, sucked her earlobes, and then he was there—his cock poised above her entrance, his mouth an inch from hers.

  Felicity locked her gaze with his then slipped her hands between their bodies. She wrapped both around his shaft, gave him a sexy pull, then lowered the tip to her entrance.

  “Ready?” he whispered.

  She gave a quick nod.

  Hook closed his eyes and eased inside.

  Chapter 6

  Felicity sucked in a deep breath as Hook slowly entered her. She’d known he was large—she’d held him in her hands—but feeling him work his way inside her was torturous. Not because it hurt, but because he was going so slowly, tunneling inside incrementally, and she needed him to hurry the fuck up. Literally.

  She opened her eyes and stared up into his face.

  Maybe he read her frustration in her frown, because he gave her a tight smile. “Shush. Let me do this my way,” he said.

  “Your way is making me crazy.”

  He gave a short, huffed laugh. “No patience?”

  “I’m not as delicate as I look,” she groused.

  “Sorry if I’m a little concerned.” He grimaced. “You’re tight.”

  “Thought guys liked that.”

  “Well, there’s tight, and then there’s this,” he said, sinking a little deeper. “I’m afraid I’ll blow.”

  “Not worried,” she said, digging her nails into his ass. “I might beat you there.”

  “Seriously?” he said, his mouth twitching.

  She nodded quickly. “Uh-huh.” When he circled his hips, stretching her entrance, she closed her eyes and gave a moan.

  “Like that?”

  “Like it all. Just wish you’d get down to business,” she gritted out.

  His chuckles rocked against her chest and belly.

  His thrusts deepened suddenly, and her eyes flew open.

  “See? I need to go slow.”

  “No. More. Like that.” She cupped his ass and pushed down on him.

  “Felicity,” he hissed, but he moved faster, plowed deeper.

  Now, she was getting somewhere. “Yes, yes.” She let go of his butt, thrust her fingers into his short dark hair, and pulled.

  Hook closed his eyes, his expression one of pure ecstasy. His hand slipped beneath her and cupped one side of her bottom. His knees dug into the mattress, and his hips rose, but he kept her tucked tightly against him.

  Now, he had more leverage. His thrusts deepened, quickened.

  Heat built inside her, and she raised her legs and let them splay wide. She tilted her hips to invite him deeper still.

  He hammered at her center, breaking apart her breaths into short, grunting gusts. Not a pretty sound, she knew, but Lord, she didn’t care. She was there. Right there. “Now!” she shouted, “Hook!”

  Her body arched beneath him, and her hands fell away, drifting down to the mattress as she soared, pleasure exploding from her core and trembling outward until she was left breathless, boneless. Serene.

  She heard his shout, felt him slip his arms beneath her and hold her against his body as he jerked and thrust, and finally spilled himself inside her.

  As she came back to herself, she realized she could barely breathe. And she didn’t care. His weight crushed her, blanketed her. Their skin where it met was hot and slick. She stuck out her tongue and licked the side of his neck. She tasted salt and smiled.

  He growled and started to pull his arms from beneath her.

  “No,” she complained.

  “My claw’s sticking in your back.”

  “No, it’s not.” She tightened her inner muscles around him. “That’s the only thing sticking into me—and I like it there.”

  He groaned and snuggled his face into the corner of her neck. “Then I’ll stay here…for just a second longer.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and sighed.

  Hook awoke to discover that he still lay atop Felicity, though his torso was shifted to the side—and his cock was still lodged inside her. He grinned and came up on an arm to look into her face.

  She slept deeply, and her features were completely relaxed. She looked younger like this. He was happy they’d fallen asleep with the lights on, because now he could stare. As was becoming his habit when he could steal these moments, his gaze roamed her features, noting…everything. The thickness of her dark brown lashes. The perfection of that bow at the top of her lips. And about those lips… Hers weren’t quite pink, weren’t peach, but a pretty blend of both. And then he shook his head because he’d never dissected a woman’s appearance quite like he did hers, but she fascinated him.

  Below, he felt her stir, clenching, releasing—like gentle caresses. Then he felt moisture fill her channel. His cock stirred, filling, and he knew he wouldn’t resist her body’s invitation. He hugged her against him and turned slowly onto his side, half-hopeful she’d stay asleep while he took his time stoking both their arousals, and he’d still be able to look his fill.

  He gently lifted her thigh over his hips to open her then gazed down between their bodies. The sight of his thickening cock disappearing inside her filled him with a primal satisfaction. He wet the tips of his fingers and traced the top of the stretched folds, searching by feel for the tiny nub. When he found it, he thumbed up the hood covering it, and gave her the softest caress he could manage with his callused finger.

  She dragged in a deep breath but didn’t waken. The movement of her chest drew his gaze to her breasts. As he watched, the tips slowly bloomed, tightening and hardening. He touched the metal of his claw to one tiny bead and wished he had fingers, so he could feel it, but the bead appeared to approve because it hardened more. He toggled it, while he fluttered his finger below. Warm fluid seeped around him below.

  His gaze went to her face, and he discovered she was looking at him from between her slitted eyelids. “Hey there,” he said.

  “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, her voice husky.

  “I am.”

  Her gaze went to his claw. She slid a finger over the curve on one side, moving to where the two sides met. “Open it.”

  He moved his shoulder to manipulate the cable, and the claw opened. Then she cupped her breast and leaned forward, placing the tip between the two sides. “Didn’t know you had a titty clamp, did you?” she whispered. Then her gaze met his, challenging him.

  He shook his head. “I can’t guarantee I can be gentle. I don’t have sensation, you know.”

  “Close it.”

  He flexed his shoulder, and it closed.

  She hissed but then touched the squeezed tip where it protruded beyond the clamp. “I like how that feels,” she said. Her hips pulsed, moving toward him, and he held still, letting her take him inside her h
ot channel.

  She grew breathless, and her cheeks filled with rosy color. She hitched her thigh higher on his hip and pumped harder.

  “Come over me,” he said, pulled his fingers free, and rolled to his back, keeping clamped on her breast as she straddled him.

  The sight of her, her slender hips rocking forward and back, her nipple trapped by his claw, blew his mind. The worry he’d carried for so long about whether he could be an equal partner, whether he could inflame a woman, withered away. Felicity was into it. Into him.

  She shifted her knees closer to his hips then rose and lowered herself. Watching her use his cock to fuck herself had every muscle in his body tightening, flexing, ready to pound upward, if she gave him the signal she wanted more.

  But she seemed content to rock and grind. Her skin grew dewy, her eyes glazed over. When she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, he couldn’t be still. He bent his knees, lifted his hips, and pumped upward, into her.

  More moisture flooded her sex, coating him, wetting his balls. The moist sounds they made as they pounded together grew lewd, a new layer of excitement as their moans and grunts punctuated the air.

  When they came, he clutched her hip with his hand, released the clamp, and watched as she flung back her head and screamed.

  He smiled as she collapsed against him and enfolded her in his arms. “Maybe we shouldn’t fall asleep like this.”

  She raised her head. “Do you want me to go back to my room?”

  “No, but I don’t want you sore in the morning.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Too late for that, and I’m…sticky.”

  He gave her a tired smile and gripped her hips to lift her off him. Then he stretched to reach for the box of tissues atop the nightstand and handed them to her. She cleaned herself and him, and then handed him back the wad of tissues to dispose of in the bin.

  At last, he waited as she snuggled against his side.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For this.”

  “Nothing to thank me for,” he said just as softly. Thank you, he said inside then stroked his hand over her hair until they both slept again.

  The next day, everything felt different to Felicity. The sun was brighter. The crisp Montana air more fragrant. Even her body felt different. More voluptuous. She felt like a sex kitten—all because a sexy man had paid her some attention and couldn’t seem to stop watching her as she climbed ladders and handled power tools, installing cameras inside and outside the agency.

  Brian had been pretty quiet, so she assumed maybe he’d picked up on the fact something had changed between her and Hook.

  Frankly, she didn’t care if the entire world knew they’d made love. That they’d kissed in the parking lot before coming inside.

  These would be memories she’d savor in the long, lonely years to come.

  The bell tone sounded, and she glanced toward the door.

  Monica Bradford strode through, followed by a couple of the big, burly “operatives” from Renegade Investigation and Protection.

  She climbed down the ladder, wiped her hands on the sides of her jeans, and strode toward them.

  “Felicity,” Monica said.

  As Felicity had thought the first time she’d met the attorney, Monica’s voice was incredible. It filled the room without seeming loud. Perfectly modulated. Maybe a little husky. Exceptional, when her appearance was remarkably…not. She looked very average—average height, slightly padded curves, medium brown hair, hazel eyes. Her skin was freckled. However, her smile made her almost pretty, and her manner of looking at a person made you think you were the most important person in the room. Charisma like hers couldn’t be faked.

  “Hi there, Monica,” Felicity said nervously, giving the two guys flanking the woman a nod. They made her edgy with their dark clothing, dark glasses, and unsmiling faces. She was afraid to ask whether they’d found anything and didn’t know why they were here. “Would you like coffee?”

  She shook her head. “We should talk, but we’re waiting for Reaper Stenberg to arrive. He and his wife are on their way in.”

  “They need to be here?” Felicity drew a deep breath.

  “Hey.” Hook came up beside her and slipped his arm around her.

  Had he sensed how scared she was? She leaned slightly against him to steal a little of his strength. “This is Monica Bradford, my lawyer. These guys are with the agency investigating the robberies. Monica, this is Hook.”

  Hook’s arm tightened.

  “We’re waiting for Reaper and Carly,” she said, shooting him a glance.

  He nodded, and his mouth firmed. He bent toward her ear. “I’m here for you, Fel.”

  She almost cried and had to look at her feet while she blinked away the moisture that rushed to her eyes.

  The bell chimed again, and she grew more tense, trembling a little, as Reaper and Carly entered. Their gazes went to the newcomers, and they offered tight smiles to her.

  “We should head to the conference room and take a load off,” Reaper said. He led the way.

  Once seated, Felicity clasped her hands in her lap.

  Monica looked around the group. “Finding the thief has been...a challenge. No one at the security firm appeared to suddenly come into cash. But we’ve been monitoring their systems—without their consent—so what we’ve learned isn’t something we can bring to the police.”

  “But you’ve learned something,” Felicity blurted.

  Monica smiled, and her hazel eyes gleamed. “Cameron Burns logged in using your ID. The company hasn’t purged it from the system. Guess he figured since you bonded out of jail, he could pin one last heist on you.”

  Felicity released a breath. “Why are you so certain it’s him?”

  “My guys…” she said, indicating the two men beside her, “have been following him, surveilling. And they were able to intercept a computer transmission while he was out and about. There’s no doubt it’s him.”

  “But you can’t tell the police,” Felicity said, feeling happy that at least this group of people knew for certain she was innocent, but still worried they’d never be able to prove it.

  “The heist he’s planning…” Reaper said.

  Monica nodded. “Yes, we know where it’ll be. And approximately when.”

  Reaper’s smile was slow and cold.

  Felicity glanced at Hook, whose expression was similar. She was so nervous, she felt as though her brain was stuffed with cotton wool. “Maybe I’m slow, but how does that help?”

  “We’re going to set up surveillance to catch him in the act. When the police ask why we were there in the first place, we’ll be able to tell them we’ve been surveilling a couple of other people from the company, just so they don’t suspect we did anything untoward to get our intel.”

  “Can I be there?” Felicity asked.

  “No!”

  That came from Hook, Reaper, and Monica.

  She huffed. “This is my life.”

  “You can’t muddy this and make authorities think you two were working together,” Monica said. “They could flip him to testify against you, and then you’d be screwed.”

  What the lawyer said made sense, but Felicity hated that she couldn’t do something. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Might be better you’re not in the room,” Reaper said, his voice gruff.

  She felt like groaning. Didn’t they know she needed to at least feel like she was a part of this? “Plausible deniability? Seriously?”

  Hook reached for her hands and gave them a squeeze. “You trust me, right?”

  With my body, sure. But with my future?

  His gaze held hers, like he was trying to tell her something more. All she felt was… Well, she didn’t know what. She longed to lean into him and have him hold her. When she’d slept inside his arms, she’d felt safe.

  “You have to trust us,” Hook whispered.

  “But do you trust me?” she asked. “Do you really believe?”

  “She
passed RIP’s polygraph,” Monica said. “We’ve believed her since the start.”

  “Might have been nice sharing that information with me,” Hook muttered.

  “Doesn’t look like it stopped you from going all in, buddy,” Reaper said under his breath.

  “You’re right, it didn’t,” Hook said, still holding her gaze and her hands.

  Felicity’s shoulders fell as she released a pent-up breath. “I’ll leave you to your little op. But if you need me for anything, I’m willing.”

  Hook gave her hands another squeeze then surprised her by kissing her cheek. “Go back to work. We might be a while.”

  She nodded and pushed up from the table. She felt a little nauseous, and her head felt light. They were probably right. She needed to stay away from this, or she’d go crazier than she already was.

  As she left the room, she heard Hook say, “So, I’m assuming you have a plan…”

  She left the conference room and walked to the bathroom. There, she stood over the sink, looking into the mirror. The past days were almost a complete blur—jail, Fetch, Fetch’s job offer, the installation in Kalispell. The moments that were clear were those when she’d been with Hook—their first meeting when she’d had a chip on her shoulder, so scared and so angry she’d been a total bitch; getting to know him at the café; the comfort he’d given her by inviting her to watch a TV show beside him in bed; accompanying him when he’d captured his two skips.

  Making love with him.

  She worried she was putting too much importance on him. Clinging to him because she was scared, and he was so solid. But she knew that was only part of it. She’d been alone, and lonely, for so long, and he’d been there when she’d needed a companion more than ever. She’d been open, reaching, and she’d fallen in love.

  When this was over, even if it ended well, she didn’t know how she’d say goodbye, but she had to. She’d provided him some comfort, too. Helped him realize he had plenty to offer a woman, right arm or not. He’d be ready for a world of women.