Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three

by Danica St. Como

  Her tongue laved his nipple again in broad strokes.

  He groaned. “Baby, come to me.”

  “Not yet.”

  The groan repeated, louder, when she slid her hand up to the crown of his cock, when her fingertip rolled the pearl of pre-cum around the head, making it shiny and slippery.

  With her cheek pressed against his chest, she felt his heart rate kick up, felt his breathing quicken. She slid her hand to his testicles, fondled them, then began to drag her hand up and down the softer inner flesh of his legs.

  Shifting her weight, she rose to her knees, straddled his thigh. Rubbing her pudenda against him, she stretched, locked her arms behind her neck, under her heavy hair. Her hard, tight nipples pushed forward, enticed him to cup her firm breasts in his hot hands.

  “That’s it, baby, hold me.” She rubbed against his thigh once more, then pulled away from his hold on her breasts to kneel between his legs. Grasping his shaft in both hands, she bent forward and lowered her mouth to his cock head. Rimming the corona first, she took him in her mouth.

  Suckling him, she met his gaze, then stopped what she was doing. “What would you like?”

  ” Ooh, baby, ride me. I need to feel your pussy around my cock.”

  ” Mmm, good choice.”

  Moving over him, she shifted so one knee was next to his hip, and raised her other leg so her foot was flat on the mattress, her pussy exposed. “Play with me, first.”

  She couldn’t hold back her murmur of pleasure when his fingers caressed her labia, then sank into her moist opening. He pressed deeply as she pushed against him.

  “Keek, baby, you’re so ready. Cover me before I lose my mind.”

  “Your wish, MacBride.” My MacBride. My warrior.

  “Wait, baby. Condom.”

  He tried to move, but she pressed her hands against his chest.

  “No need. Got it covered.” If what Lorelei said was true, which came directly from Lucian, MacBride was always careful, always safe. Keko trusted them, but did wonder why Lucian knew so much about MacBride’s sex habits.

  She lifted, positioned her sex over his, settled above him.

  “I want to feel every bit of you.” Wired up, pressed against his heated flesh, she could barely get the words out.

  “Baby, if you’re sure you want me bareback … .”

  Responding to her nod, he carefully guided his long, thick shaft into her as she lowered herself.

  As he slowly filled her, spreading her intimate flesh nearly to the tearing point, she could not put words to the feeling. The perfect feeling.

  Trying not to hurry, she twisted her pussy downward, accepted his size. Her eyes closed, her head thrown back, she was in heaven.

  Then, he moved.

  In an instant, she was under him, his heavy arms braced on either side of her, his hips pinning hers to the bed.

  “What the … ?”

  “Baby, since the very first time, I’ve wanted you without a condom. I need to empty my cum in you, so far into you that you’re blinded by the pleasure, need to feel every pulse as you take me, as you come on my cock.”

  With a quick thrust of his hips, he buried himself so deeply that she thought he’d finally split her in two. She cried out, spread her thighs wide, then wrapped her legs around his hips.

  “MacBride, yes-yes-yes, I’m gonna come, gonna come now, right now, right now, right fucking now … .”

  With that warning, her glove-tight pussy grabbed his cock. Two, three, four hard thrusts later, he pursued her into paradise. She felt every twitch, every throb, as he filled her with his seed.

  How can I live without this?

  Chapter Nine

  Wednesday morning

  After a quick breakfast, and a quick peck on Keko’s cheek, MacBride quit Sanctuary. He told her he needed to put in an appearance at the police station and set up work schedules for the week.

  Lucian had phoned to say he, Lorelei, and Adam would probably return to Sanctuary around lunchtime.

  That left Keko with Chandler and Kamaka at Smitty’s place, in what they’d come to call the boom room. She and Kamaka gave a last look at every bomb component, then Kamaka foam-wrapped each piece before he handed it to an FBI agent for boxing and transport. Chandler’s crew had already packed up the lab equipment.

  MacBride’s deputy, Joe Collins, had discovered legal documents in Smitty’s study before the Fibbies arrived, which gave authorities the name of Smith family members to contact. The FBI needed to completely vet the place, remove all evidence of Smitty’s extracurricular activities, before they could release the premises to the heirs.

  Keko needed time alone. Time to think. Time to think about the bomb, and time to think about MacBride. Time to think about her work, about her life. Whenever she was around the sheriff, the magnetism between them, even just the thought of volcanic sex in his arms, prevented her brain from processing anything clearly. I wonder what the clinical definition of nymphomania is? Can it be directed at just one person?

  “If you boys are finished with me, I think I’ll head back to Sanctuary via the scenic route.”

  Chandler laughed, then offered his hand. “Haven’t you learned yet? Every road in Maine is a blasted scenic route. It’s been great working with both of you. Too bad the circumstances weren’t better.”

  Keko clasped his hand in return. “Maybe the next demolitions seminar, instead of a terrorist bomb plot.”

  “That sounds like a much better plan. Where are you off to now? Heading back to Boston? If you are, you can hitch a ride with us; that’s where we’re headed. We should be able to fit your gear into one of the vans.”

  “Thanks for the offer, that’s very generous. We’re not leaving quite yet, though—

  unless Kamaka wants to head back. Lorelei invited me, well, us, to dinner at a restaurant on the other side of town. The Woodlands. Do you know it?”

  “A bit above my pay grade, but I’ve heard it’s the place to go. The Hungry Bear Café is more the speed for us lowly government serfs.”

  Keko omitted the part about the dinner being a mini-celebration of the FBI leaving town. She glanced at her watch. “It should be a fun night out. I need get to Sanctuary, shower and change.”

  She turned to Kamaka. “Makaha, if you’re sure you don’t want to go with us, I’ll even track down a cheddar-bacon burger before I head back to the lodge. I’ll leave it in the microwave.”

  “Kamaka,” said Kamaka, automatically, tossing a bubble-wrapped piece from hand to hand. “Thanks, but not tonight. I feel like I almost have a grip on the problem here. Not ready to quit yet, until Chandler drags the last of the toys out of my hands. ”

  She picked up her shoulder bag. “Yeah, whatever, dude. Catch ya later.”

  He straightened up, gave her a wink. “Of course, unless you really want some company, boss lady? Maybe really want to talk things over? Just maybe?”

  She knew exactly what sort of things he meant, but she couldn’t face him before thinking over the situation on her own, first.

  “No, boss lady actually doesn’t, but thanks for asking. If you’re not coming to dinner with us, then one of the FBI guys can take you back.” She glanced at Chandler for confirmation; he nodded. “Will, have a safe trip, wherever you’re going.”

  She turned back to her partner. “Later, dude.”

  Kamaka had already turned back to the workbench. ” Uh huh.”

  Keko had the opportunity to consider her circumstances while she piloted the Explorer over the country roads, but she still wasn’t ready to face her fears. She’d learned at a young age not to agonize over relationships. Her mother had broken her father’s heart, and as far as Keko could tell, the wound had continued to bleed until the day he died. Father and daughter never discussed the situation, and John refused to allow any negativity toward her mother.

  In the twenty-something years she’d lived with him, her dad had never gone on a date, never had a special woman in his life. Considering f
or a moment, she amended that thought. At least, none that I knew. As much as she loved and adored her father, she grew up tough and independent. If he could live on his own terms, so could she.

  She’d been fond of the women around her while she grew up, but they were her dad’s employees. Her nanny, her tutors, Lilajane Kozak, John’s super-efficient office manager who was now her super-efficient office manager.

  Whatever tidbits Keko gleaned about the world of relationships between men and women—but mostly about sex—she picked up from largely uncensored conversations with the powder monkeys employed by Larsson Demolitions. Living and working around the men, she concluded at an early age that their attitudes about love and romance were always colorful, always interesting, in a train-wreck sorta way, and always somewhat skewed.

  Even as a child, she’d been one of the guys. Protected, but still one of the guys.

  Cherished in a weird way, but still one of the guys. If her father knew about the heart-to-heart birds and bees discussions his young daughter had with his men, especially the discussions prompted by Keko’s habit of listening on the sly to Dr. Ruth’s Sexually Speaking on the radio, he would have locked her in her room and grounded her forever.

  As she remembered how Eight-fingered Jack, her father’s oldest friend and top crew chief, spewed a mouthful of beer across the room when she asked, with her missing-tooth lisp, what fellatio meant, a little smile skewed her mouth. After that reaction, even as young as she was, she had the good sense to stop before she tried to pronounce cunnilingus to Uncle Jack.

  Actually, now that I think about it, Dad did try to ground me once or twice—then discovered how close the old oak tree limb was to my bedroom window. A chainsaw brought that escape route to an abrupt end.

  Her cohorts were slick. When she grew older, it took a while for Keko to realize the reason she didn’t have second dates was intervention from her mentors after eager young men took her out on first dates. Furious, Keko hooked up on the low down with a new hire of her father’s—a handsome, buff, young Irishman from Oklahoma just a couple of years older than she was. After the awkward first time, they met in secret and shagged like bunnies for months.

  On the day her paramour didn’t show up for work, Keko found a note taped to her locker: Keek, my mama phoned, needs me pronto in Tulsa. Don’t know if or when I’ll be back. Wish you well, Dustin.

  She couldn’t prove her dad had anything to do with Dustin’s abrupt departure, but confidence ran high that John had somehow found out about her liaison with the Tulsa boy, and solved the issue to his own satisfaction. That established the end of her short love life, such as it had been. Everyone eventually leaves me. Maybe I’m just not lovable enough for the long haul. Maybe I have bad juju.

  To MacBride, a man full grown and knowledgeable, not an inexperienced youth to be easily frightened away, she wasn’t one of the guys. To MacBride, she was a mature woman with strong sexual appetites. At least that’s what the fine-looking sheriff murmured in her ear as their limbs tangled like a nest of daddy longlegs spiders. In return, he was like an addictive drug to her. She couldn’t get enough, wanted more and more of him, wanted to ride the tidal wave of passion he created and never touch dry land. He was a powerful thirst that refused to be quenched.

  Keko was at a loss, totally inexperienced in this new arena of having a man who was her sexual equal. Didn’t know what to do about it. And what if this relationship affects my professional judgment? Affects my job?

  Relationship? They didn’t have a relationship. She hated the phrase when the guys used it, but she admitted to herself that she and MacBride were stuck at the level of being, well, fuck buddies. At the very least. What was the other phrase she disliked nearly as much? Oh, yeah, friends with benefits.

  What exactly did that mean in the real world, friends with benefits? Did that mean they could each go their own way, see other people, have other playmates? She didn’t think she wanted that. As far as she was able to tell, she seemed to be a one-man sort of woman. Or, at least, one man at a time.

  MacBride was clear—he wanted her to leave Sanctuary, bunk at his house.

  Despite what he said, she knew he meant not in the guest room. If she did that, she’d never be able to keep her hands off him. Knowing how he affected her whenever he was within sight, she guessed MacBride would need to escape to the cop shop to catch naps and rest up between bouts of lava-hot sex play.

  Sanctuary, on the other hand, definitely lived up to its name. It could be her refuge, her haven. Her shelter. She knew she could hide out there for as long as she desired.

  Is that what I want to do, hide out? I’ve never been a coward in my entire life. I took the world on when I was five years old. Do I really want to escape from him?

  * * * * *

  It appeared that everyone in town had grown hungry at the same time, which meant Keko was forced to park along the far side of the town square, then walk to the Hungry Bear Café. She’d promised to pick up Kamaka’s cheddar-bacon burger and the deep-fried mushrooms he liked, bring them back with her to Sanctuary. Just as she stepped to the sidewalk, a tall, lanky man with slicked back hair approached her. Loose jointed, his head and shoulders bobbed like Big Bird’s.

  “Miss, uh, miss.” He pushed his thick, brown, Clark Kent glasses back up his long nose. His upper teeth protruded a bit, and he’d dressed in total tourist garb, right down to the white embroidered shirt that was too long, red plaid golfing slacks that were too short, white socks, tennis shoes. “Do you live around here?”

  Oh goody, someone more displaced than I am. “No, I don’t. But maybe I can help.

  Where are you trying to go?”

  The man took a colorful local street map from his back pocket. “I’m attempting to locate an establishment called the Cata-Lodge. I arrived with my history teachers’ tour group, but my contemporaries appear to have left me behind.”

  He was well spoken, but his voice sounded wimpy, nasally, his speech correct, but the tone whiny.

  Not a good trait for a teacher who must command his students with authority.

  Keko wasn’t familiar with much of the town, but she knew the Cata-Lodge because some of the Fibbies bunked there. “No problem. You probably missed the corner. The Lodge is on the other side of the Hungry Bear. You came too far.”

  She pointed in the correct direction.

  He grabbed her outstretched hand, which surprised her, then shook it vigorously. “Thank you so much, you are very kind. I am Professor Simms. One would think you are a native. Where is home, exactly?” He looked at her expectantly, did not release her fingers from his grasp.

  Trained more carefully than that, Keko did not reveal her name or her hometown, but did reclaim her hand. “It was nice to meet you, professor. I hope you find your tour group, and enjoy your holiday.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we shall. It’s sort of a busman’s holiday—such a historic region.”

  “Is it really? I didn’t know. The beautiful scenery does it for me.”

  He adjusted his glasses, again. “Forgive me for being forward, but you could even join us, if you wished. I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind. Having a young person in our midst would be refreshing. Offer a different point of view.”

  Jeez, fella, go away already. She pointedly looked at her watch. “That’s very generous, but no. I do have an appointment, and I’m already pressed for time.”

  She watched the odd professor amble away like a disjointed scarecrow, then she took a moment to scan her surroundings.

  Standing on the cobbled walk in front of the Hungry Bear, its stones as precisely fitted as those of the pyramids, and, hopefully, as long lasting, she watched families scurry like picnic ants around and through the town square. Larger-than-life bronze statues of those whom she assumed were historical heroes, mounted on fiery steeds, sat on large concrete bases in the park. Children laughed and teased each other into healthy games of catch-me-if-you-can and tag-you’re-it. She wondered what small-town lif
e had to offer its residents after the tourists went home, versus living on the outskirts of Boston, where the action never stopped. She wondered what it might offer to her.

  “I can assure you that he’s not going to leave here.”

  Surprised, Keko spun around. “I beg your pardon?”

  Well, hello again, Miss Dock Bumpers. The bimbo from the airport, the platinum blonde of the poofy hairstyle, encroached on Keko’s personal space. Except the over-teased hair had been pulled back with a wide, brown, grosgrain bow. Still well-tailored, the busty blonde wore a crisp white shirt, pleated beige slacks, cream angora sweater with the arms tied across her chest, rust-colored loafers. A large designer handbag hung from her shoulder.

  Keko backed up as she raised an eyebrow. “Are you speaking to me?”

  “Sheriff Mac. He will not leave. He’s made a home and a life here, so you can just forget about taking him away.”

  Sheriff Mac? Give me a break. “Ma’am, I have no idea who you are, and my private life is none of your concern.” Keko turned toward the diner doors. Damn, she has a giant set of cojones.

  “Don’t play coy with me. We met at the airport, even though we weren’t properly introduced. Men aren’t very good at that sort of thing. Pepper Hunsacker, of the Hunsackers, and it’s Miss, not Ms. or ma’am. And don’t you even think about walking away from me.” The woman grabbed Keko by the wrist with polished talons.

  Before Pepper of the Hunsackers could draw another breath, her arm was twisted behind her back.

  Being somewhat shorter, Keko growled close to her nemesis’ ear. “What the hell is your problem? Have you lost your freakin’ mind? Don’t you ever, ever, touch me again, or I’ll tear your arm off at the elbow and beat you to bloody death with it.”

  To avoid making a scene, Keko released the woman’s arm. She hoped no one noticed the altercation. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you to keep your freakin’ hands to yourself? Go shop for yarn or something, and leave me alone.”

  Pepper rubbed her arm where Keko had gripped her, but she didn’t disappear.

  “He’s not going to leave. Men are always interested in things that are different, and you’re just the shiny new toy. Sparkly. When the sparkle wears off, Mac will see you for what you are. A stranger, an interloper. Not made for durability, not for the long run.