Dex kissed her mound, then ran his tongue along the tender skin just between her pussy and thigh. Sydney’s muscled quivered enticingly, prompting him to take another bite. She cursed, but it was a sound filled with desire, not anger. Dex smiled to himself as he worked the boy shorts down her legs, tossing them aside before working his way back up her body, nibbling and sucking, tasting and tantalizing. By the time he got to the hem of her camisole, she was already pulling the shirt up and over her head.
She wore no bra underneath. Dex groaned at the sight of her perfect, dark pink nipples. Her breasts were perfect, too, round and plump and achingly soft beneath his lips. He trailed wet, sucking kisses around one, then the other. Sydney moaned. He cupped her left breast with one hand and encircled the right with his other. Then he bent his head, opened wide, and tried to suck her whole tit into his mouth. She thrashed against him, tangling her fingers in his hair as she held him down. Dex suckled her gently, using even, pulsating pulls of his lips and tongue. Sydney shivered with every suckle.
Dex lavished equal attention on the other breast, loving the feel of her hands on his neck, his shoulders, his biceps. He trailed wet kisses along her collarbone, up the sweet column of her neck, and finally found her mouth again. Then he kissed her, long and slow, as he pressed his thigh against the furnace heat of her pussy. She seemed to enjoy it, pressing herself against him, rocking up and down as if she were riding his thigh. Dex groaned appreciatively, his cock a solid steel bar still trapped in his shorts. Only that one thin wall of fabric protected him from slipping into her…
Protection…
Dex broke the kiss with a gasp and looked down into Sydney’s lust-filled eyes. “Protection. I forgot protection.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a pile of gravel. “I think I have a condom in my wallet…”
She gestured sideways with her chin. “Nightstand. Top drawer.” Her eyes twinkled. “Tucked inside the Bible. Don’t ask.”
He snorted out a laugh and reached for the drawer. He would ask—but later. This was too important, too immediate, to think of anything else. He found the small, leather-bound Bible tucked in the corner of the drawer and flipped open the cover. As promised, a handful of condoms lay just on top of the title page. Dex snorted again as he grabbed one. With his weight balanced on one elbow, he tried to tear the packaging, but his hands were trembling. He cursed, trying for a better grip.
Sydney snatched it out of his hand. Eyes still twinkling, she tore the plastic and pinched the circle of latex. “Those boxers will have to come off,” she said with a wicked little purr. “Unless you’d like me to fuck you right through them.”
“Jesus,” Dex groaned. “You’ve got a mouth on you, girl.” He reached for the waistband of his shorts—
And suddenly he was on his back, Sydney straddling his lower legs. He blinked, unable to process the concept of a hundred-fifty-pound woman being able to flip a two-hundred-pound man without batting an eye. Sydney smirked down at him, then slipped her fingertips under the elastic of his shorts. She pulled them down, slowly, slowly, until his cock sprang free, making him grunt. Sydney let out an appreciative hum at the sight of him.
“Damn, Dex,” she purred as she tossed his shorts aside. Her eyes traced the length of his shaft, glittering hungrily. “Thank you for the reminder.”
His lust-soaked brain failed to process her words. “Reminder of what?”
Sydney licked her lips and gave him a wicked smile. “That I have a mouth on me.”
She slid down his body, thighs straddling his shins, and planted her hands on the mattress on either side of his hips. He watched, unable to take a full breath, as she bent forward and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth. Dex let out a shout of instant pleasure, fisting the sheets on either side of him. That image alone—Sydney Carpenter, bent over his body, taking his throbbing cock between her lips—would provide stroke-fodder for years and years to come. But nothing could compare to the feel of her tongue circling his dick, that hot mouth surrounding him, sucking him deep…
Dex threw back his head and let out a healthy groan. Sydney hummed her pleasure as she took him deeper, until the head of his cock touched the back of her throat. Sucking hard, she lifted upward, then did it again, stroking him all the while with her tongue. Dex started panting, rocking his hips, trying to hold himself back as the pleasure engulfed him.
“Syd…” he panted. “Syd…I can’t…you have to stop, or…”
She chuckled with her mouth still surrounding him, making him shudder. Sydney circled the head of his cock a few more times with the tip of her tongue, then finally pulled off him with a wet pop. Dex’s whole body trembled as he fought the urge to come, fought the need to splatter his essence all over her chin. She stared at him, her expression so hot it almost sent him over the edge. Keeping eye-contact, she fit the condom over his cockhead and rolled it down. When she got to the base, she squeezed him. Hard.
Dex’s control snapped. He let out an animal snarl, grabbed Sydney by the shoulders, and rolled himself on top of her. She welcomed him with a satisfied moan, spreading her thighs as he settled between them. He planted his elbows on either side of her head, found her mouth, and started kissing her as he rubbed the underside of his cock against her clit. She flexed her hips, hands clamped around his shoulders, and moaned against his lips. With one last, desperate groan, Dex notched the head of his cock against her pussy entrance, held for a moment, and then pushed his way inside.
The feel of her made the breath explode from his lungs, and he broke their kiss with a gasp. Sydney shuddered beneath him as he slid in deep, her expression just as shocked as his must have been. Her tight, wet pussy swallowed him whole, sparking wildfires in every single part of his body, until his hips rested firmly against her pelvis. They held like that, foreheads pressed together, both panting softly, while Dex struggled to keep his self-control intact. But she felt so good, so right and so pure, it took everything he had not to lose it right then.
Sydney purred beneath him, seeming to revel in his weight pressing down on her. She wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles at the small of his back. As she slid both hands up his shoulder blades, holding him tight, Dex trembled uncontrollably. She whispered sweet nothings, simply holding him there, while her pussy walls tightened around him. Dex held himself still, fighting his own instincts, then finally managed to center himself.
He looked into Sydney’s eyes, and began to move.
Heaven. This was what heaven felt like. Every stroke, every thrust, every slap of skin-on-skin reinforced the notion. Sydney’s little cries of pleasure, the way her fingertips dug into his back, the way her thigh muscles clenched around his hips—it all blended together in a spectacular dance, so perfect and blissful Dex lost himself in it. Lost himself in her.
The pleasure seemed endless, yet not nearly long enough. They were both too ready, too primed up, to make the moment last forever. Before too long, Dex was riding the edge of a terminal precipice, the pressure mounting up to an unbearable explosion. He held on for dear life, held on to her, trying to hold back for the sake of the woman beneath him. But she was shuddering too, her little whimpers getting louder, more desperate, until he was pounding her like a jackhammer in response. The mattress, the pillows, the whole damn bedframe shook with the impacts, driving both of them harder, faster, until Dex found himself looking right over the edge of that cliff.
And then Sydney cupped his face, met his eyes, and whispered, “Fly with me.”
Her pussy contracted around his cock, a vice-grip so powerful it yanked a cry of ecstasy from his very soul. Dex came with her, his orgasm akin to a volcanic eruption, powering through his body with unstoppable force. He clung to her, breath frozen in his lungs, as the pleasure rocked his very foundation. It felt like falling, like drifting through endless space, like floating in a sea of terminal bliss. Dex lost himself, lost all control, and maybe even lost the thread of consciousness.
When the explosion finally subside
d, he swam back to awareness through a fog of sated wonderment. He found himself huddled over Sydney, his face buried in her hair, both hands cupped around the back of her head. Her body quivered underneath him, pussy walls still contracting and releasing, making him shudder from the feel of it. Panting hard, he finally managed to push himself up onto his elbows, trembling.
He smoothed the hair from her forehead with shaking fingers. “Syd…that was…”
“Magic,” she whispered. Her eyes were glazed, lips swollen from his kisses. She licked them. “Pure magic, Dexter Peterson. That’s what you are.”
He shook his head, smiling softly, and kissed her with all the tenderness he possessed. She shuddered again as he pulled out of her, the motion sending an aftershock of pleasure through his system. Dex disposed of the condom, pulled the thin comforter from the foot of the bed, and wrapped it snugly around both of them. He fitted himself against her back, wrapping his arms around her as she pillowed her head on his bicep. Legs bent together like nested spoons, Dex heaved a contented sigh, breathed in the scent of her silky black hair, and held on tight as he drifted off into the most wonderful dream.
Chapter 6
Sam drowned in his worst nightmare.
He was in the middle of a crowded Walmart. Humans cowered in tangled groups, shying away from him, while darklings watched his every move. In his dream, the darklings didn’t look like people. They looked like blackened shadow monsters, their eyes nothing but dead black voids, their mouths filled with gruesome forests of razor-sharp teeth. They snarled at him, swiping at him with wicked-looking claws, as he dodged between civilians. He held a gun in his fist, but it wasn’t his usual Glock; this was some flimsy .380, a girl gun, that wouldn’t make a difference unless he popped it off right in some jack-hole’s face. But he clutched it tightly anyway, trying to keep the muzzle pointed toward the drop ceiling just in case one of the blubbering idiots bumped into him. And all the while, he searched for Dex and Sydney, scanning the crowd for their familiar faces while avoiding the grasping claws of the darkling horde.
That he knew it for a dream made no difference. His heart still raced, breath rasping in his lungs as sweat sheeted down his back. Every few moments, he caught a glimpse of Dex’s blond crew cut or a flash of Sydney’s raven-dark hair. He’d turn in their direction, determined to catch up with them, only to be stymied by shrieking civilians or useless displays of cheap home goods. Then he’d see them again, off in the distance, dodging around the end of an aisle. No matter how fast he ran, no matter how many darklings he killed along his route, he never seemed to catch up with them. And it was a damn big Walmart.
A darkling reared in front of him, its skin blackened and burnt, its face split wide by massive, fang-filled jaws. Sam yelled, backhanding the creature across the chest, and pointed his girl-gun at its face. He got the shot off just in time, and the creature dropped to the ground to sizzle and stink as its flesh burned away. He looked around frantically, and finally caught a glimpse of Dex and Syd, running together hand-in-hand. They dodged a group of darklings, urged a knot of civilians to get out of the way, and made a beeline for a pair of glass doors.
“Wait!” He took off running, legs pumping frantically. “Don’t leave without me!”
They ignored him, of course. He cursed and tried to run faster, but the floor turned to black ooze beneath his feet. He struggled, but each step was like yanking his boots out of thick concrete. Darklings charged him, falling all over him as he fired the flimsy pistol over and over. Though he never ran out of bullets, the darklings never stopped coming, either. Burnt, stinking bodies piled up around him, slowing sinking into the sludge that used to be the floor. By the time the last one fell, there was a veritable wall of putrefying, dead black flesh between him and his way out.
Using every curse word he knew—which encompassed several languages, dialects, and local vernaculars—he started yanking bodies out of the way to try and clear a path for himself. He tossed a gooey ribcage aside as Dex and Sydney reached the glass doors. He shoveled aside a pair of severed legs—which made no sense, since he’d been shooting mini bullets, not wielding a freaking scimitar—as Sydney tried to get the doors to open. And he dragged three stinking black corpses out of out of the way just as Dex lost patience, aimed what looked like a mini-bazooka at the glass—why did he get the good weapons?—and shattered the whole damn wall.
“Wait!” Sam yelled again, frantically trying to pull his legs out of the morass. But Dex and Syd didn’t hear him. The grabbed each other’s hands, dove through the blasted opening, and disappeared into the night.
Sam struggled, cursing and yelling, but his boots just would not come free. Then something hard and bony wrapped around his calf, and he looked down—only to find he wasn’t standing in a pool of black ooze after all. It was a bubbling black pit straight out of hell, and the darklings he’d killed had hold of his legs, and they were pulling him down, down…
Sam sat bolt upright with a strangled gasp. The thin, hospital-grade sheet was wrapped around his lower body like a python, his naked chest exposed to the chill air. He sat there, panting, and told himself it was just another stupid nightmare.
Trust him to have a nightmare on a night more suited to a wet dream.
The thought made him groan and flop back on the bed, making the pillows bounce. Fuck, Syd had looked good. Even with her too-thick face paint and too-trashy clothes, she still looked freaking fantastic. She was just about the only woman he’d ever met who could actually pull off the whole hooker bit. Hell, she’d look good in a damn dish towel. And it had taken almost every bit of his self-control to resist the urge to peel down that paper-thin camisole, just so he could get a better look at the lacy black bra she’d been wearing underneath.
Girl was sex incarnate. No doubt about it. She’d proved it tonight—in more ways than one.
It had been incredibly hard—pun intended—to play the unaffected sidekick. When Syd sat on Dex’s lap and shoved her tongue down his unsuspecting throat, Sam almost came like a twelve-year-old with a Victoria’s Secret catalog. Dex probably thought he’d been jealous—or hurt—that Syd had chosen to walk out of the bar on Dex’s arm instead of Sam’s. But the truth was, he was grateful. If he’d had to stand up right then, his hard-on probably would have knocked the table over. Talk about the opposite of not making a scene.
The part of his brain that functioned normally said he shouldn’t be quite so turned on by the thought of the two of them together. But faced with the reality of it, seeing her hands caressing his neck, his chest…
Sam shivered.
He glanced at the clock—4:00AM. Great. At least six more hours before he could even think about bugging Dex. The man was definitely not a morning person. Considering the late hours they often kept, it wasn’t surprising. But Sam had gotten used to military hours back in their days as Marine grunts, and he still found it hard to sleep past sun-up. Not that this qualified, since the sun was still tucked in a blanket somewhere, but his body still wanted to believe it was reveille. Sighing, Sam slid out of bed, made a pit stop in the bathroom, and splashed cold water on his face. Then he sat on the bed and considered the TV remote.
“Fuck.” He tossed the useless piece of plastic on the cheap particle-board side table and ran his hands vigorously through his hair. Things had to be going FUBAR if even late-night motel porn didn’t interest him. Cursing again, he got up and reached for his go-bag. If he couldn’t sleep, neither should his best friend. They could commiserate about the current state of affairs together, with Jack Daniels as a third wheel. Tossing on some clothes, he stuffed his feet into his steel-reinforced combat boots and headed outside.
As he stood in front of Dex’s door, Sam hesitated. If the guy had just recently gotten to sleep, he’d kill Sam for waking him up. He almost turned around, but the thought of going back into that dismal, empty hotel room made his insides roil. Clenching his jaw, he raised a fist and pounded twice on the door. Then he did it again, slower, and paus
ed for a few heartbeats before doing it a third time. Then he waited.
Damn, it was cold up here in the mountains. He scrunched his shoulders, wishing he’d thought to put on a jacket. At least the rain had stopped. A brief mountain storm, just enough to clean the air and leave the pavement glistening. Probably would have been comforting, had it not come up right as they were leaving that shit-hole motel where Sydney was camped. The lightning displays alone had been enough to raise the hairs on the back of Sam’s head. The thunder—coupled with the living storm cloud sitting in the passenger seat beside him—had almost been enough to make him shit his pants. But at least it was over now. Just a night like any other.
Except that it wasn’t. Because Sydney was back in town. Which meant the shit had well and truly hit the fan this time. Both for Dex—and for him.
Not that he wanted to admit that.
Dex probably thought Sam was a grade-A asshole for agreeing to leave Syd behind. Not that Sam wanted to do any such thing—the idea of her facing off against that many darklings, alone, made his gag-reflex churn. But Sam meant what he said about how it would feel to have someone roll up and ruin six months of their planning. If Syd thought she could handle it alone, it wasn’t their place to step in and take over for her.
Didn’t mean his instincts weren’t screaming at him to swoop back in and save the day, though. Thus the decision to stop at a nearby motel, just far enough away that she wouldn’t feel smothered yet close enough to help out if she got into trouble. Why hadn’t Dex realized that would be Sam’s plan all along? Was the guy really that far gone that his brain stopped working? Perhaps. Lord knew, Sam had his own issues when it came to Sydney Carpenter.
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