Maybe this was a mistake…but if it was, she didn’t want to know that. Not right now.
Marco leaned in and she flattened her hands against the wall, her gaze on his mouth.
“Last chance, sweetheart.” He lowered his head, his gaze glinting fierce in the entry light.
“For what?” She breathed as deep as the bustier would allow.
“Tell me to leave.” He edged in closer.
“Why would I do that?”
“I’m not a domesticated kind of guy.”
“I didn’t think you were a housecat.”
“Last chance.” He bent his arms and his chest pressed against hers. Feeling his strength was a far different thing than knowing about it.
He could break her. Hurt her. And yet…he wouldn’t. She’d found no indication of unnecessary violence on her little expedition.
Fiona grasped the front of his shirt and yanked him closer. He swooped down, his mouth taking hers. His tongue pushed past her lips, licking hers. Need so potent her knees went weak with it surged through her. She clung to his shoulders while he continued the sensual assault on her mouth. His big hands slid over her body, not the least bit shy about palming and touching her.
He could do anything to her.
Anything at all.
Lust tinged with fear was still fear.
No.
What did she know about him?
Marco Benally. Ex-Navy SEAL. Professional bodyguard. He had a few speeding tickets and a couple blips on his record, but in every altercation he’d been involved with he was the savior. The guy swooping in to try to help.
He might be a bit of an ass and a lot of bad for her, but he wasn’t a bad guy per se. He was exactly the kind of person she could let go with. This wasn’t forever and ever amen, this was a night. A single connection. Meeting a need.
“You’re trembling,” he said against her mouth. His hands stilled, one on her breast, the other at her hip. He lifted his head a bit to look down at her, his brows drawn down into a line. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” And she did. This time—this time she’d done her homework. She knew the man she’d let in through her front door. And he wouldn’t hurt her. No, she did that all on her own, without his help.
“You want me to stop?” The way he looked at her…he didn’t want to stop, but he would. Because that was the kind of man he was.
“No.” She pushed up on her toes. “I want you to kiss me so hard I tremble and my knees go weak.”
“That…I can do.”
He cupped her bottom with both hands, lifting her a little, and sealed his lips over hers. He ground his pelvis against her, the feel of his thick, hard erection against her abdomen a very real promise. Her pussy clenched and her fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him back.
And she did indeed tremble.
Marco kissed down her neck and pressed the back of her hands to the wall, the silent command coming across loud and clear.
Stay put.
He dipped his fingers into the cups of her bustier, teasing her nipples with his rough touch, but he didn’t linger.
Marco sank to his knees. This big, powerful man kneeling in front of her was…she’d never felt…sexier. He pressed a kiss to the thin line of skin between her shorts and the bottom of the corset.
He gripped the button on her shorts and pushed it through the slot.
She swallowed.
He pulled the shorts down her legs, and she stopped breathing. Cool air skated over her skin. Everything throbbed. She curled her fingers against her palms to keep from covering herself.
This was what she wanted after all.
“Fucking…you sat on my bike like this?” Marco sat back on his heels.
“I didn’t have the right panties to wear with those anymore.” Hell, most of her underwear covered more than the shorts. Going commando had seemed like the most logical option.
“If I’d have known that…”
He left the sentence unfinished, but she got the idea.
They might not have made it home.
Which meant…she wasn’t the only one turned on right now.
He wasn’t just doing this out of the kindness of his big, ol’ heart.
He wanted her, too.
That…
Fiona smiled.
Marco slid his palms up her thighs and over her pelvis.
He muttered something that didn’t even sound human.
She’d really been messing with the wrong kind of guys. This was…she’d never felt power like this before. Unless she was hacking. But this? With Marco? It rivaled the thrill of the hack.
He stood suddenly, folding her over his shoulder without warning. She yelped and gripped his shirt, all too aware that she’d gone from goddess-on-a-hill to maiden-moments-from-being-ravished.
She watched the hardwood floor fly by.
Marco grunted, pitched forward, and she went flying once more over his shoulder, landing with a bounce on her super plush sofa flat on her back. She pressed her knees together and pushed the silly throw pillow onto the floor.
He planted one hand on the back of the couch and leaned forward, grasping the zipper pull on the bustier. She sucked in a breath and watched as, tooth by tooth, he unzipped the last stitch of clothing on her body.
At least she could breathe again. The bustier did great things for her figure and plumped her boobs but that was about it.
He tugged the zipper down the last bit and flicked the bustier open, leaving her in nothing.
“You have neighbors?” he asked.
“What?”
“Neighbors?”
“Uh—not right now. Why?”
“I’m going to make you scream.”
She sputtered a laugh.
Scream? Really?
That was a bit much. She’d had some great orgasms in her life, but scream-worthy? This was real life. Not a porn flick.
Marco grasped her knees and pushed them apart. She sucked in a breath and fought against the urge to shield her most vulnerable of places.
He wasn’t even naked yet. But maybe that was his thing. Looking.
Marco knelt on the floor, his knees on the very pillow she’d kicked off the sofa.
What—was he doing?
She scrambled to get a hold on the cushions but her fingers slid off.
Marco hooked his arms under her thighs, his hands on her hips, and pulled her ass nearly off the sofa. Her legs pressed against his shoulders.
He grinned at her; at least it was supposed to be a grin. It was more like…the big bad wolf right before he ate up the three little pigs. And she was number four.
“I’m not opposed to a little hair pulling,” he said.
The way he said it…her stomach did a little flip.
His hands spread out over her stomach, her legs trapped by his shoulders, his head between her legs.
Oh, God…
His tongue licked between her folds, and her spine came up off the cushions. Her brain short-circuited. It simply stopped working. All because of his tongue.
He penetrated her, fucking her with his mouth. Not casually, no, with purpose. His hands stroked her stomach, down over her mound. He shifted her, exposing more for his mouth. There were no tentative, teasing strokes. He wanted to make her scream, go wild, lose herself—and she wanted that, too.
His fingers stroked over her clit, pulling back the delicate skin until she felt his hot breath on her. She trembled and her channel clenched, wanting more of him. The flat of his tongue rubbed against the bundle of nerves, driving a shout up through her.
She reached down, burying a hand in his long, unruly hair, and lifted her hips. Seeking more of that touch. More of him.
His hands clasped together over her hips, his fingers threaded together.
“Ooohhh!”
She groaned and rocked her hips, using his shoulders for leverage.
He…hummed, the vibrations sinking into her.
> God—more of that.
She could hear herself. Not speaking, they weren’t words, but sounds of pleasure.
One hand in his hair, the other flat against the cushions, she rubbed herself against his tongue. There was no gentle, toe-curling build-up. There was just need. The need to orgasm. To lose herself in this. It was a race toward the edge.
His arms flexed, forcing her hips down onto the cushions.
She arched her back more, seeking that spot. The perfect touch that would push her flying over the edge.
All at once, he found it.
Her breathing hitched and for a second she was falling—only to fly. Release was sharp, sweet, and near painful. She tightened her grip in his hair, all the muscles in her body fluttering, caught in the euphoric free-fall of bliss.
His tongue did a thing, amping up the orgasm to a twenty. His name bubbled up her throat, though when she opened her mouth all she did was scream her release, her hips undulating against his mouth, riding out the orgasm in his arms until there was nothing left and she was boneless and weary.
For minutes, maybe an hour, she lay on the sofa, panting for breath, her vision hazy.
That was for sure a first.
Screaming orgasms?
Okay, so not just for porn.
Good to know.
Marco eased her legs off his shoulders, guiding them to the sofa. He was such a contradiction. A bit of an asshole, yet thoughtful. Clearly a bad boy, yet he’d been careful with her. She’d had lovers who were rougher, even a little cruel. He was none of those.
Fiona was too boneless to do anything but watch him stand and stare at her.
“I think you’re wet enough now.” His heavy-lidded gaze left no question what she was wet enough for.
Fiona reached for him first, grasping the double-skull belt buckle and pulling it free. He straddled her with one foot on the floor and his knee on the sofa. She bit her lip and worked the tab through the stiff denim.
“Easy,” he muttered when she grasped the zipper.
“Like this?” She slid her hand into his jeans, cupping his erection and easing the zipper down. Maybe he was right. She wasn’t boring, simply uninspired by the men in her life.
Marco pushed his jeans down enough to be out of the way, but not completely off. He braced one hand on the back of the sofa and watched her. She hooked her fingers in the elastic band and bit her lower lip. There really wasn’t any going back after this. Not that she wanted him to go anywhere for at least the next thirty minutes. After that, well, it wasn’t like they were moving in together, or looking to date. All that mattered was now. This moment.
She pulled his boxer briefs down, freeing his cock and balls.
He was well formed. Thick. And hard.
Best decision ever.
Fiona wrapped her hand around him and stroked his length.
“Do you have a condom?” She was pretty sure she hadn’t tossed the ones she’d had, but wasn’t all that sure.
“I got us covered.” His voice was rougher than even earlier.
She brought his erection to her chest, held it to her sternum and stroked with her fingers, exploring his shape and size.
Marco rocked forward, rubbing his cock through the valley of her breasts.
There was something…taboo about her being completely naked, while he was mostly clothed. It was wild, naughty, and completely out of the norm for her life. Now, at least.
He pumped his hips, and she pressed her breasts together.
His cheeks were sunken in, and his focus was completely on her.
He wasn’t forever material, but he was here now, and that was what she needed. This man. To make her feel alive.
Marco muttered a curse and gripped her at the waist and shoulder. He forcefully flipped her so fast she was left a little light-headed and disoriented. At least until he palmed her ass. She pushed her hips up, more than ready for round two.
As talented as his mouth was…she wanted the full experience.
Fiona peered over her shoulder and watched Marco pull out his wallet. Ah, the emergency condom. Right now, she was thankful to whatever authority figure had instilled a sense of readiness in this man.
She arched her back, lifting her bottom. Her skin was so sensitized even the soft fabric under her cheek felt rough.
The sound of the wrapper and stretch of latex made her toes curl.
Soon…
Marco’s hand dug into her hair, tugging her head back. His stubble rasped against her cheek.
“My turn,” he whispered.
Oh…dear…
He shoved a pillow under her hips.
She swallowed and gripped the sofa with both hands, her heart pounding in her throat.
The first touch of his cock to her pussy was gentle. A brush of his skin to hers. He found her opening, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t think. She just—waited.
He pressed into her and she groaned, burying her face in the cushion. Marco’s grip in her hair tightened, pulling her head back, stretching her throat. He eased out, and then in, her arousal easing the penetration while he stretched her. She shifted, pushing back against him, seeking—something.
Marco moved with her, refusing to let her take more than he offered.
She groaned her frustration.
He smacked the curve of her ass, startling her more than hurting her.
“I can make it hurt.” He almost didn’t sound human.
“No, no.” She wasn’t into that.
“Hold still.”
“I’m trying.”
“How’s this?”
He put more power behind his thrust, stroking into her body. She moaned and kicked her leg.
“Like that?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, like that.”
He chuckled and did it again until she could feel the thud of his balls and the press of his pelvis against her. He rocked into her, her whole body seeming to pulse around him.
The hand in her hair twisted, and she closed her eyes.
“I’m going to feel you when you come,” he said.
Why did that sound like a threat?
She dug her nails in not a moment too soon.
Marco moved. He withdrew and thrust, working himself in and out of her body. He kept the one hand in her hair, the other at the small of her back as he fucked her. It wasn’t gentle or kind, it was rough and fast. She undulated against him, working her hips as best she could, but it was almost all him. He had her right where he needed her, and he wasn’t shy about taking what he wanted—how he wanted it.
Her nipples scraped across the upholstery.
Again, she cried out, incoherent words of pleasure. She lost herself in the feel of him, the way he invaded her body, every cell, pumping her full of desire.
She felt…alive to her very toes.
The orgasm took her by surprise, a crashing wave of bliss sweeping her up and taking her away. He pumped into her, prolonging the orgasm, until finally he shoved deep and froze, his fingers digging into her skin.
Fiona might have screamed. A second time. She wasn’t sure.
What she did know was that she wasn’t moving off the sofa for a very long time.
Marco said something to her. His hands stroked her back and hips. He smoothed her hair and even kissed her cheek, which made her smile. He wasn’t a chaste kisser. He was a taker. And she’d given him the green light.
Tonight was for her. For everything she’d denied herself.
Tomorrow…maybe she’d try to change some things. She’d never be free, but she didn’t have to be a prisoner to this life.
Fiona grabbed the sofa throw and pulled it over her. She listened to Marco’s steps, his trek into the bathroom, the toilet flushing and all the foreign sounds of someone else in her home. She’d never cared for sharing her space with strangers, but she would be sad to see Marco go. Or hear him. Right now she wasn’t opening her eyes for all the money in the world. Not ev
en to watch him walk out her front door.
“Are you falling asleep already?” His shadow fell across her, blocking out some of the light seeping through her eyelids.
“Hm?” She lifted her chin.
Marco chuckled, but she didn’t have it in her to care. He’d fucked her right, and as far as she was concerned, he could do as he pleased.
The cushions dipped, and before she could puzzle out what the hell he was doing he lifted her into the air. She yelped and grasped his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Picking you up.”
“I can see that.”
“Bedroom?”
“What?” She blinked at him.
“Bed—room?” he said again slower.
“Why?”
“I’ve got ideas.”
“I-ideas?”
“What? You thought this was a one-and-done?” He grinned and her heart fluttered.
This must be how the prey felt when the predator was closing in.
“Through there.” She pointed at one of the closed doors across the room.
Marco carried her into the bedroom and didn’t bother with the lights. He set her down on the mattress and stood back, jerking his shirt off.
Maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew.
4.
Marco slipped out of bed and stood there in the dark like a fucking creeper.
This was not supposed to happen.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, but it didn’t ease the guilt stabbing his conscience. She was supposed to be a mark. A rung on the ladder. Well, he’d picked the wrong damn girl.
Fiona was…a drug.
He’d always known that in order to get the kind of information he needed, it meant getting close to someone at NueEnergy. But it was different now that the person had a name. Eyes. A mouth. God, her mouth. It was just sex. But it was damn good sex.
Fucking hell.
He couldn’t leave without completing his objective. He’d come too far.
Ghost had warned him about the consequences, that very likely someone—the person he targeted—would get blamed for what he was about to do. But Marco hadn’t listened.
And now that person had a name he could taste. He could still feel her pussy clenching around him.
“Hey, Fiona, I need to find my phone,” he said.
Dangerous Protector (Aegis Group Book 5) Page 3
