Don't Say No

by Linda Verji

  Some part of her knew she should’ve been resisting him. After all nothing had been resolved between them and he had made no mention of even staying after this thing with Vance was done. But this felt so right. Kissing him like this, being with him like this.

  This is what she wanted for now.

  He was who she wanted for now.

  Her breasts tightened and swelled at the sweep of one of his hands ran down her back. Her breath caught in her throat when his touch teased over her waist then dipped into her shorts to cup her bare ass. The skin to skin contact was electric and soared through her, stoking her desire.

  She set her leg across his thighs to give him more space to touch. He didn’t disappoint. Large hands squeezed and massaged her ass as they kissed. She squirmed needily against his body searching for more. More of what she didn’t know, only that Nic was the only who could give it to her.

  “Nic,” she whimpered in protest when he moved his hand from her ass. He swallowed the sound as he set his hand on the side of her hip and pushed her to lie on her back. She thought he’d come over her then. Instead he stretched out alongside her. A brief glance of his hand over her tummy, a teasing outline of the waistband of her shorts and then those errant fingers were sliding in. In. In. In.

  “Ooooh.” The first touch against her mound had her whimpering arching upwards to her elbows. Her movements only pushed his hand lower until he was at her core. He fit a finger into that moist valley between her pussy lips. Her eyes snapped open at the immediate flames that soared inside her, scorching a path from where he touched to every single part of her body. His dark gaze never left hers. It was as intense as the deliberate flick of that finger on her clit and the intense pleasure that followed.

  “Oh, shiiit,” she gasped on an open mouthed cry, one hand clinging to the sheets while her other hand gripped his thigh.

  “Wider,” he urged. She couldn’t have refused him even if she wanted to. Her thighs fell open easily, and he rewarded her with an expert rub that her lifting to get more. And more she got! He slicked his finger in her cream, spread it all around then twanged her clit.

  The torture was unending!

  He played her like a violin, strumming her strings like the sounds of her whimpers were the best sound he’d ever heard. She tossed her head on the sheets and praying that it would end, that it wouldn’t end. When he sunk one long finger inside her, she almost jumped out of her skin.

  “Ni….oooh.” The sound faded into a silent scream and she closed her eyes.

  He stopped his movement and ordered, “Open your eyes. I want to see.”

  So she did. The look in his eyes was as heated as the sensations running untamed through her. It fired her up, and when his finger began moving inside her, she was sure she’d burst into flames. His touch was practiced, deliberate, every stroke designed to drive her insane.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged when she pushed back to meet the tantalizing entrance of his finger. She wanted to close her eyes so badly, but couldn’t risk him stopping. When he fit a second finger in, her gaze widened. She was so full and his fingers long enough that he felt like he was fucking her.

  “Aaah.” Her fist closed around the denim of his pants, mimicking the squeeze of her pussy walls around those fingers. “Mmmm.”

  It felt so damn good.

  Her lower belly tightened in a pain like sensation that had her gritting her teeth and hissing. “Ssss”

  His warm breath fluttered over her cheek. “That’s it. Cum for me, baby.” His deep voice, like warm honey, licked at her senses; so sweet to match the in and out movements of his fingers. It felt like every part of her body was poised on the verge of something. Her thighs trembled, her pussy walls contracted, heat flushed through her. One more thrust and heaven burst open. She soared in on his name. “Nic.”

  “Nic.” He watched her come apart in his arms, reveled in the broken whimper her release tore from her throat. This was how he wanted to see her. Not angry, not sad, not disappointed… satisfied. She lay on her back, her eyes closed in pleasure, her lips parted on the sound of his name and her thighs spread open for him.

  Exactly as she was meant to be!

  He would probably regret this tomorrow, or even later today but for now he was going to enjoy every minute of it. He’d almost forgotten how responsive Melanie was to his touch, how her cries of passion sounded, how tight she was. Almost!

  Did she still taste the same too? He passed his hand over her clit in one last flick before sucking his fingers into his mouth. She was still as sweet as he remembered. Sweet, honeyed, Melanie!

  “So sweet,” he murmured as he shifted slightly over her to touch his lips to her parted ones. Her acceptance of his kiss was so easy, it squeezed at his heart. He took her lips with a hunger nine years denied. His kisses were hungry and demanding, but she wasn’t threatened by his intensity and her response was just as hungry, as if she hadn’t just come.

  If his cock was ice, even fire wouldn’t have been able melt it. He was harder than he’d been in a long time and only getting stiffer as they kissed. She wound her arms around his neck urging him to come completely over her, and he did. He fit his body between her thighs. She hiked her legs to surround his flanks in a move that brought her pussy hard against his cock and had him hardening even further. He tucked his hand beneath her ass, tilting her upwards as he ground against her.

  “Yes.” Her moan of response speared through his mouth, into his blood and straight to his dick.

  Fuck! His cock chaffed at the restriction of his pants, urging him to get naked. He resisted. He’d do it one better. Get her naked. He inched down her body with little kisses; her upper chest, the space between her breast, both nipples, her stomach. He only stopped to push her t-shirt upwards. She gave no resistance when he lifted the soft cotton above her breasts. Even lifted so he could flip the fabric over her head.

  And she was revealed to him.

  She’d never been the most well endowed woman out there but what she had was enough for him. He licked his lips in anticipation before bending his head and drawing his tongue over one perky nipple. Then he turned to the other breast and sampled that too.

  Her breathing grew more ragged, restless, desperate even when he closed his mouth fully over one nipple, kissed it, laved it then suckled. She gasped and sunk her fingers into his skull in a tight grip of his hair. Her violent reaction egged his own arousal, sending a sharp lance of sensation straight to his cock.

  “Please,” she begged breathlessly for more. It was a good thing because he wasn’t letting her go either until she gave him more. His kisses journeyed down her body and as he moved, he shoved her cotton shorts down her body. She lifted her legs, allowing him to divest her completely of the garment.

  Who knew nakedness could be so beautiful?

  For about a minute, he stared at her pussy mesmerized by the swollen folds, the moisture wetting them and the small hooded nub peeking between them. Utterly seduced, he set his hands to the back of her thighs spreading her even wider for his viewing pleasure.

  She sucked in a breath when he pressed the first kiss there, tried to get away. Nic’s hands firmed on her thighs, insisting that she stay, that she trust him. And she did. She stopped moving away, and her thighs relaxed beneath his touch. He set his mouth once more to that sweet cavern. His tongue circled the slick nub at the top, stroked to the very edge of her entrance, then returned to her clit. Over and over again, he repeated the action.

  “Nic,” she moaned his name like a plea with each teasing stroke of his tongue. Her thighs closed around his head to trap him between them while her hand ruffled through his hair as he pleasured her. Her pleasure gave him his. Her breathing became more urgent and rapid. The moment he added his finger into the mix and pushed it into the small enclave, she came apart.

  She jerked wildly at her second orgasm of the day. Nic tasted her release, laving and licking at the proof of her pleasure. He kissed his way back up her body then wi
th one last peck of her swollen lips settled back beside her.

  His own body throbbed with wild need as he watched her take deep calming breaths. He wanted to fuck her so badly, he was afraid his cock would break if he didn’t. And she would let him. He could see it in the languorous way she stretched her body as the last vestiges of her orgasm flowed through her. She wouldn’t stop him. Likely even encourage him.

  Yet something kept him from claiming her completely. Maybe it was some latent sense of self-preservation. Maybe it was just fear that being inside her would be just one step in too deep given their situation. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple before drawing the covers back over both of them and hiding her naked body to his hungry gaze.

  When he reached for her, she came into his arms easily, cuddling her naked curves against his harder and clothed length. It took tremendous will for him not to chuck his pants and come over her but he managed it. Holding her loosely to his side, he thought of naked grandmas.

  Sleep soon claimed her, leaving him still wide awake. She didn’t even stir at the sudden buzzing of his phone. He reached for it and checked the caller ID. His eyebrows shot up when he saw who the caller was.

  “Cabrera,” Nic answered curtly.

  “I have your girls,” Vance said.

  CHAPTER 13

  Vance had no idea where he was!

  And the pilot’s, “Gentlemen, we’ve begun our descent to our destination. We should be on the ground in fifteen minutes.” did not help much either.

  Well, except to inform him that in fifteen minutes they would be plunging back down to earth after seven plus hours of hell in the air. Hell was relative depending on whether you were scared of flying or not.

  Vance was scared stupid.

  He swallowed hard and his fingers bit into the soft leather of the armrests as he held on for his dear life. Someone was crazy enough to get on these things without someone putting a gun to their head? Who?

  It had to be some fool who didn’t know that if he had a leaking gas tank up here they were done. Finished! Dead! There were no cops up here to stop crack-head pilots from weaving around the freeway and causing an accident. In case of an accident, there was zero chance of survival because they were thirty five thousand feet up in the air.

  Thirty five fucking thousand feet!

  If said crack-head pilot didn’t kill them, there were always the terrorists. Shit, Vance didn’t even know how many people were in this plane with him. For all he knew, one of them was planning to hijack them all. If he’d known they would be doing crazy shit like this he would’ve thought harder about dealing with Cabrera.

  Until today Vance was unaware of his fear of flying. Being raised on the street didn’t exactly offer one many opportunities to fly. But in the wee hours of the morning when he’d delivered the eight girls to Cabrera as agreed, Cabrera had told him to get rid of his guard-dogs. Then he’d handed him a hood and told him he was about to make him a very rich man.

  Though he felt naked walking around without a Runner or two to watch his back, Vance had taken the chance. Despite his silverspoon roots, Cabrera was reputedly a ruthless, savvy and very successful businessman. Working with him was like winning the black-market lottery. And Vance was damn ready for a good win.

  Was he losing sleep over double-crossing The Photographer?

  Fuck no! This was business and in business loyalty went to the highest bidder. By virtue of his name alone, Cabrera had blown any competition out of the water. Vance also liked that unlike The Photographer Cabrera did his business in person. You can’t trust someone you can’t see. Little did he know that he would end up locked in this metallic cylinder of death!

  Vance’s stomach rolled as they started the deadly descent downwards.

  Man, was he glad for the hood over his head. At least this way Cabrera and his men wouldn’t be able to see the fear he was sure was stamped all over his face. The moment the plane taxied to a stop, Vance was on his feet even before someone reached for his arm to guide him out of that metallic box of death.

  Heat! Muggy heat smacked Vance the moment he stepped out of the airplane. The air was so heavy with it that it was hard to breathe because it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air. The heat seeped into Vance’s suit with uncompromising potency, forcing immediate sweat from his glands. By the time he was guided into a car, sweat was pouring from his every pore and drenching his clothes.

  Where were they?

  He didn’t ask, maintaining the silence that Cabrera and his men had sustained for the whole journey. He knew that he was in a limo because he could stretch out his legs without bumping into anything. At the very least there were three other people in it with him; the two flunking him and whoever was driving. Was Cabrera inside? Vance had no idea but he could hear pages being leisurely turned.

  The car ride took about one hour over smooth road then the car came to a stop. The door opened and his companions exited. Someone reached inside for Vance’s upper arm, but Vance yanked his arm away. He could damn well get himself out of the car. The instant he was out, someone chucked the black hood from his head.

  Vance blinked against the sudden light of the blazing sun as his eyes adjusted to their new environment. His gaze panned in on Cabrera and his three men. Cabrera was dressed for the heated weather; a loose white linen shirt over khaki chinos and white loafers. His men, like Vance, were still dressed for business in buttoned up oxford shirts and classic pants, but had gotten rid of their blazers.

  “Welcome to Santa Marta,” Cabrera announced.

  Santa what? Hell if Vance knew where that was.

  “My apologies for the…” Cabrera gestured towards the hood now lying on the ground. “but I’m a very private man. I’m sure you understand.”

  “It’s a’ight!” Vance half-shrugged as he turned to survey their surrounding.

  They were parked in front of a large one-story villa with a faux grass-thatched roof, molded stone exterior and bluish glass windows. It was an impressive house, but the truly striking part was the view peeking behind; stretches of lush green tree-tops bordered by miles and miles of crystal clear water that looked bluish green with the sun’s rays bouncing off it.

  “This your crib?” Vance’s even voice and closed expression didn’t betray how impressed he was.

  “One of many,” Cabrera returned with a dismissive wave.

  Someday Vance would be able to afford a place like this. Someday soon! Picking an invisible piece of lint from his jacket, he harrumphed. “It ain’t my kind of place. I like the temperature a little cooler.”

  Cabrera smirked as if he could read the lie in Vance’s words. “Don’t worry. We won’t be staying for long anyway.”

  “Senor Cabrera.” A short swarthy-complexioned man with a mustache exited the villa. “Welcome. Welcome.”

  “Ignacio.” Cabrera acknowledged the man with a brief angling of his head. He introduced, “Vance, this is Ignacio my estate manager. Ignacio, this is Vance, a potential associate.” He turned to his estate manager, “Is everything ready?”

  “Si.” Ignacio nodded. “Salazar and his men are in la selva.”

  “Bueno.” Cabrera gestured for Vance to follow him. “Please, this way.”

  Flunked by Ignacio, Cabrera led them into the house. If the outside was impressive the inside was doubly so; marble floors, cream walls with a white trim, expensive artwork hanging on the walls and set on the floor. It was only once Vance was standing in the expansive foyer that he realized that the house was actually two-story’s tall. The beech wood-frame quarter turn staircase ran both upwards and downwards.

  The men took the stairs down and ended up in the living room; an airy beach-themed space occupied by white wicker furniture with smatterings of glass for the tabletops, and blue and green drapes. The north-side of the living room was a semi-circular wall made entirely of wall-to-ceiling glass that looked out to the ocean-front swimming pool.

  As he opened the glass double-doors
that led to the pool, Cabrera turned to Vance. “You might want to get rid of your jacket.”

  Even though he was sweating through the fabric, Vance thrust out his chest in defiance. “I’m good.”

  “Your funeral.” Cabrera skirted the edge of the swimming pool and the deck chairs surrounding it and led towards a flight of stairs. Below, the beach stretched, strong waves of water licking the edges of the brownish-white sand. A jeep was parked right next to the stairway. The three men boarded the jeep.

  “Where’re we headed to?” Vance shouted over the wind rushing past.

  “You’ll see,” Cabrera said as he expertly maneuvered the jeep around a pile of rocks. For a while, he drove along the beach line, following a stretch of land bordering the jungle. He turned left and straight into a path leading right into the cluster of trees.

  The jungle was not Vance’s type of place. It was dense, dump, dark and alive with creatures he had no desire to see. The smell of rotting plants and mud was overpowering. Leaves the size of umbrella’s kept brushing against his face as they whizzed past. The terrain was so rough, Vance’s ribs bumped against his lungs as they roared through the still jungle.

  This here was the reason his people had left Africa!

  The shadowed dappled darkness began to clear up, the trees became sparser and the sound of water rushing interspersed with the jeep’s roar. Eventually the jungle opened into a wide clearing swarmed with men in dark camouflage clothing milling around jeeps parked along the banks of a fast flowing creek. The men were unloading stacks of brick-like packages bound in shiny black paper. Vance didn’t need to peek in the packages to know what was inside them. Cocaine.

  But it wasn’t the cocaine that held his attention.

  It was where it was being taken.

  Secured to the bank by ropes thick as a man’s waist were four, thirty feet long, bullet-like contraptions. Oval steel towers rose above their silver cased bodies as if they were sticking their middle finger to the world.