But then she did things I didn’t expect, looked at me in ways I couldn’t fathom, and it threw me for a loop, and I was left trying to figure out what was going on in that gorgeous head of hers.
She held her ground on not having sex if I wasn’t wearing a condom, which I totally respect. The fact that I’d been about to drill her without one was honestly freaking me the fuck out, because that’s a hard and fast rule of mine which I’ve never broken, not ever, no matter what, no matter who. And I didn’t even stop to think about it. I don’t know this chick. Like, at all. We just met. Yet I put my dick in her bare, and never even stopped to think about bagging my shit. Weirder yet was that neither did she, and I get the impression that’s as abnormal for her as it is for me. I honestly had to pull out and switch tactics because I was about to blow inside her from just a few thrusts, which is insanely fast for me. She just…does something to me. Bare, skin to skin…god, it felt incredible. Too good, way, way too good. So good I needed more, but was a little wary of doing that again, for fear of embarrassing myself in a way I hadn’t since the first time a girl put her hands down my pants. But Temple, the way she felt, the way she touched me…she drove me nuts. And I couldn’t figure it out.
Like right now, after denying us the sex we were building up to, instead of taking the out I was offering, no pressure, no big deal, figuring we’d fuck all the harder for it later, she shoved me into the bathroom, ordered me to sit down, and now seems to be working up the courage to do something. Or figuring out what she wants. I don’t know. I can’t read the girl. I just don’t know what she’s planning.
I liked that. It made me nervous, but I liked it.
She reached out, wrapped those slim, small, pale fingers around my cock and stroked me, top to bottom. At first, that was all she did, and I was fine with it. More than fine. If I could hold off coming indefinitely, I’d be content to sit here and just let her touch me like that, just watch her hand slide up and down, watch her thumb caress over the top. It was incredible, how good just her hand felt. I leaned back against the tank of the toilet, laced my hands behind my head, and watched.
And she just stroked me. One hand, then the other. And after a while, both, hand over hand, the way I liked it best.
“Goddamn, Temple,” I growled.
She’d told me to shut up and hold still, but sometimes that was just impossible. Like right then, there was no way I could keep still, no way I could shut up.
I was on the edge, riding the cusp of climax and holding it back as hard as I could. My eyes flew open so I could watch what she did when I came.
“Don’t warn me,” she said.
I did my best to hold still, and just watched as she switched back to one hand sliding up and down my cock, going fast now, and obviously recognizing how close I was to losing it. Kept the quick strokes going, staring at my cock with fascination.
Then she glanced up at me, as if gauging my reaction.
And then, seconds before I was about to come, she bent over me. Her hair draped across my belly obscured her face, so I reached out and brushed her hair aside, holding it out of the way so I could watch my cock slide between her lips, watch the way her eyes slid closed.
“Jesus,” I grunted.
She had her hand around me still, and resumed stroking, going faster than ever, and I was flexing my hips, grunting, cursing under my breath from the effort to hold back, to not fuck her mouth like I wanted to so damn badly. God, her mouth was wet and warm, and it felt like fucking ecstasy as she slid her mouth down my shaft and back up, fist sliding hard and fast.
No warning, she’d said, so I gritted my teeth and flexed hard, one hand in her hair, the other clenched behind my head.
She was sucking hard, fist grinding in a blur. Her tongue swirled around my cock, licking away the cum as it seeped out of me, and she kept going, sucking and jerking, until I was arched fully off the seat, groaning helpless curses, both fists buried in her long sun-blonde hair, gripping the shimmery, silky locks with all my strength and trying desperately to not crush her against me.
And, at that exact moment, still coming so hard I was dizzy and breathless, Temple’s mouth halfway down my throbbing shaft, the soft globes of her tits draped against my thighs—
A tall male form appeared in the hallway, holding a suppressed 9mm. He stopped as he came to the open doorway of the bathroom, pistol swinging to cover the opening.
Temple, head down, eyes closed, utterly focused on giving me the single most erotic moment of my entire motherfucking life, never even saw him.
I reacted instantly, instincts and training kicking in faster than thought. My pistol cleared my holster faster than it ever had before.
It’s funny how time slows down in those moments—I had time, somehow, between drawing my Beretta and pulling the trigger, for a thought to flash through my head: please don’t bite me, Jesus fuck, Temple, please don’t bite me—
I pulled the trigger twice, aiming for center mass, the concussions coming one after the other so fast they sounded like one report.
Temple screamed and fell backward, hands over her ears and, thank fuck, she didn’t bite down in shock.
My rounds hit dead center, two red circles spreading across the intruder’s chest, right over his heart.
The silence was sudden and deafening. Or maybe it was the ringing of my ears from two gunshots in a tiny, tiled-in bathroom that had me momentarily deaf.
And then Temple’s voice, soft, fearful. “Um, Duke? What—what the hell?”
I blinked, glanced down at her. She was sitting naked on the floor of the bathroom, huddled back against the corner where the tub met the wall. She had a string of my come dribbling down the side of her chin, about to drip off. I holstered the pistol and reached out slowly, carefully, aware that she might freak after the sudden violence. She flinched, brows drawing down, jaw hardening, but she didn’t cringe out of reach. I slid my thumb down from the corner of her mouth, wiping my come away. Only, the last droplet dangling from the edge of her jaw dripped free and landed on the upper swell of her breast. We both glanced down at it, and then I used my index finger to wipe that away too, lingering a little, just because.
And then her gaze went to the body slumped on the floor in the hallway, leaking a pool of blood. “Who’s that?”
I shrugged, following her gaze. “No idea. One of Cain’s assholes, I’m assuming. Real question is how they found this place, and how many more there are.”
At least I had toilet paper in this bathroom; I unrolled a huge wad and cleaned the mess off my stomach.
“What do we do?” she asked, rubbing at her ears in an attempt to clear the ringing.
“Get the fuck out of here, that’s what we do,” I said, standing up. Or rather, tried to stand up; my legs were still so weak and shaky I didn’t quite make it to my feet, and had to sit back down for a moment. “Good goddamn, Temple, that was…I swear to god I don’t have words for how fucking incredible that was.”
She blushed. “I don’t know what came over me—”
“You better not apologize,” I interrupted.
She managed a small grin. “Not apologizing. It was hot, watching you lose it like that.” And then her gaze went back to that stupid dead guy, ruining the moment. “I’m gonna be sick,” she said, twisting her head to one side and making a retching sound.
I made it to my feet, then reached down and lifted her to her feet. “Don’t look down, and don’t think about it.”
“Easy for you to say,” she murmured.
I pivoted us, so her back was to the hallway. “Just look at me, yeah? Think happy thoughts.”
“You just shot someone while I was sucking you off. What happy thoughts am I supposed to think?” She was shaking all over, and not in a good way; I had to keep her distracted.
“Think about how we sixty-nined. That was pretty fuckin’ hot, wasn’t it?” I pulled her against my body, pressing her face into my shoulder. “Think about that.”
I
lifted her up, and her legs went around my waist. We were both still naked, and I knew there was no way anything else was happening now, but holy shit, she felt perfect like this wrapped around me. I stepped over the dead guy, glancing down to make sure he really was dead—his eyes were staring unseeing at the ceiling, so yeah, he was gone.
I moved into the weapons rooms where our clothes were, kicked the door shut with my foot, and then set Temple down. She was still shaking and shuddering, breathing hard, desperately trying to keep it together and doing damn good job. Her skirt was in a pile on the ground, so I snagged it, oriented it so the zipper was facing her back, and knelt in front of her. Lifted her heel, helped her step in.
“You don’t—I can—”
“Just step in, Fancy.” I helped her get her other foot into the opening of the skirt and then lifted it up around her waist, zipping it closed. Sad to cover such a gorgeous ass, but it was go time. “Just breathe, and think about whatever will distract you.”
“You distract me,” she said.
“I do? How so?” I stood up and rolled the lace of her bralette down over her breasts, then reached inside the material and pulled her breasts fully inside, like I’d seen done in the past.
“You’re too damn pretty for your own good. More accurately, you’re too damn pretty for my good.” She just stood there and let me dress her, which was a little worrying, but she was still talking, so that was good. “I look at you, and my brain goes dumb. You touch me, get near me, and I just…go loony.”
I helped her slide her arms into the sleeves of her blouse, and then made quick work of buttoning it. I found her shoes where she’d kicked them off at some point, though I had no memory of when she’d done that.
“So, think about me,” I said, finding my shorts and putting them on, then sliding the belt through the loops. “Think about how it felt when I was inside you.”
Her eyes fixed on mine. “That’s a bad idea.”
The air between us went thick and tense. I held her gaze, and in those blue eyes I saw a lot of the same things I saw inside myself—mainly uncertainty regarding what the hell to do about these weirdly intense emotions we seemed to share.
“You ever like something so much it scared you?” she asked.
“I do now.”
“That’s why I shouldn’t think about us like that,” she responded.
“That’s why you should think about it.” I caught her hips in my hands, pulled her close. “Because sweetheart, that’s happening. You and me, bare, nothing between us.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because—because it’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s a fantastic idea.”
“Which is why it’s stupid,” she breathed. “So good it’s bad, and I don’t know how to do that.”
“Temple—”
“Plus,” she said, babbling right over me, “it breaks every single one of my rules.”
“Temple—”
“And my rules keep me safe. They keep all you asshole men in your place. My rules make sense for me.” Her eyes went down, to where my shorts were still open, unzipped, held up cock in one of my hands. “Doesn’t matter how beautiful your dick is, or how perfect it feels, that can’t happen. It’ll break all my rules.”
“You’re gonna have to explain these rules to me, Princess,” I said. “Because I don’t get ‘em. But right now, we gotta go, okay? Those shots will have drawn attention, and we don’t need that. So you’re gonna hang out in here for a hot second while I get rid of our friend out there, and then we’re gonna book it out of here. Okay? Just…stay here.”
She nodded, and I cupped her nape, pulled her close, then grabbed a handful of her hair and tipped her head back. Our lips were millimeters apart. Her breath was warm and sweet and smelled like my cum, which was hotter than it should have been, for some reason. Temple stopped breathing as I lowered my lips to hers, and honestly, I don’t think I was breathing either. Usually a kiss doesn’t mean shit to me, it’s just part of fucking. Chicks dig a hot kiss, it turns ‘em on, gets ‘em ready, sort of puts ‘em in the mood, know what I mean? But for me, normally, a kiss wasn’t anything to get all excited about.
Temple Kennedy, as she had in literally everything else so far, proved that to be a lie. Her lips on mine…fuck. I was gone, man. My heart started pounding like I’d just humped five miles uphill in full gear at a run. My hand shook on the back of her neck. The wet warmth of her mouth, the way she leaned up into the kiss, melting into me, melting into the kiss…
Goddamn it.
God fucking damn it.
Tearing myself out of that kiss was like ripping duct tape off my skin. I staggered backward, jaw clenched hard, a frown tightening my face, chest heaving.
“You’re fucking dangerous, Temple.”
I left the room as fast as I could, because if I didn’t I’d kiss her again, and we didn’t have time for that shit, and also because I didn’t know how to handle that shit.
I took a second to zip, button, buckle, and tuck the front of my shirt behind the buckle of my belt, and then leaned back against the closed door, wiping my face with both hands. I wasn’t sure what was coming over me when I was around Temple, but it was seriously fucking with my mojo. I had to get my shit together. I had way too much to worry about to be getting caught up in some rich bitch’s web of complications. Getting my dick wet wasn’t worth it, no matter how perfect she was.
Yeah, I didn’t believe myself either, but I had to try, right?
I tugged my hair free of the ponytail holder, shook it out, scrubbed my fingers through it a few times, and then tied it back once more, this time putting it up in a topknot. Harris called it a man-bun, but those fucking things were stupid. Only girly little millennial hipster twinks wore man-buns, if you asked me. A topknot was different; if samurai wore topknots, then I could wear a topknot. Those dudes were badasses. Not always the honorable, upright, holy warriors mythology tends to make them out to be, but they were certainly badasses.
Hair out of the way, shorts fixed, cock under control—and feeling drained, let me tell you—breathing normal, hands steady, heart no longer hammering…yeah. I was good to go.
I grabbed the dead dude by the ankles, hauled him into the bathroom, and heaved him into the tub, keeping his pistol.
No point in covering the bloodstain on the carpet, so I left that alone. I went into the kitchen, then over to the fridge. It was off, unplugged, and chained and padlocked. Weird, but it served a purpose. The padlock was biometric, like all the other important locks in this place—I couldn’t put a fancy lock on the front door, and there wasn’t a point anyway, because even if they got in, they weren’t leaving with anything valuable. I put my thumb to the pad, which flashed green, and the hasp popped open. Inside the fridge, instead of shelving and food, there were six black duffel bags stacked on top of each other, each containing stacks of cash.
Yeah, I had a bank account, but I only kept enough in there to pay bills and look legit to anyone who might go sniffing after me. My real bank was kept here, in this fridge, which wasn’t a normal fridge. Old school, heavy as fuck, lead insulated, solid steel, and just about indestructible. Even if this entire building burned down, my cash stash would survive.
I snagged one of the bags, unzipped it just to appreciate the stacks of green, and then re-zipped it. Closed and locked the fridge, hoping against hope that if this place got raided by the boys in blue they wouldn’t think to check the strange, out of place, heavily locked refrigerator. But that was a faint hope, especially if they got a look at my weapons collection.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. “Dan? I heard—I heard...it sounded like gunshots, and—”
Old Bruce, doing his job, damn him.
I cracked open the door. “Had the TV on too loud, buddy. Nothing to worry about.”
He tried to peer past me. “You sure? It sounded like—”
“New surround sound system,” I
explained. “Didn’t realize how loud it was, I guess.”
Bruce eyed me suspiciously. “Well, all right. Keep it down, yeah? I had a couple complaints.” His expression knowing, then. “The complaints mentioned some screaming, too.”
I winked at him. “Yeah, well, you know how it is.”
He snorted. “Not so much anymore, unfortunately.” He grinned at me, then, and ambled away. “Just keep it down, Dan.”
“You got it,” I said, and closed the door.
I carried the duffel bag into the bedroom, where Temple was wandering from case to case, examining my guns.
She picked up the stuffed tiger and examined it. “This seems oddly sentimental for a guy like you, Duke.”
I took it from her, a little brusquely, and shoved it into the duffel bag. “It was a foster brother’s. Good kid.” I fingered the button eye. “Leukemia. Didn’t make it.”
Temple didn’t comment, but I saw her realizing that I might be more than just a hard-ass fuckboy commando. Like, hey, I might just have real feelings in me, somewhere. Weird, right?
I grabbed the HK and stuffed it into the duffel and transferred all the magazines I had in my pockets, which lightened things considerably. I added an extra pair of Berettas and extra mags for those, and fuck it, may as well toss in a flashbang or two—you never knew when those would come in handy.
I hefted the bag, testing the weight of it, and decided I’d better call it good.
Temple was staring at me. “Um.”
I stared back. “What?”
“You have an actual duffel bag full of cash?”
I shrugged. “I have several. Why? Is that weird?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Yes. Most people…oh I don’t know…use banks?”
I snorted. “Fuck the banks. Banks are bullshit. I don’t trust any institution, let alone ones who handle other people’s money for profit. My money is my money, and I don’t want to have to deal with asshole bankers to get at it. Plus, there’s just something satisfying about a bag full of hundos, know what I mean? Also, who’s gonna rob me?”
Duke: Alpha One Security: Book 3 Page 9
