Men In Uniform Anthology

by Delilah Devlin

  …

  Brandon couldn’t believe the sight before him. He got up and stood before her. “I want to see you, Alena. I want to touch and take in every inch.”

  Dropping to his knees, he started at her belly button, placing small gentle kisses as he swirled his tongue in a teasing fashion.

  “Brandon…”

  Her one-word plea sounded more like a moan than a whisper. And the all-encompassing begging that he heard only excited him that much more.

  “Say it again.”

  “Please, Brandon…”

  He grabbed the back of each of her calves and felt the gentle curve of her leg muscles. Visions of holding those legs while he thrust inside her flooded his thoughts.

  He brought his hands up the back of her legs until he reached the perfect round globes of her ass. He couldn’t help but knead his fingers into her cheeks. They fit so perfectly in his hands that he didn’t want to let go. Looking at her, he saw her hair was disheveled, her eyes wild. She looked…beautiful.

  His cock thickened and became even harder when he stared at her neatly trimmed thatch of hair. The outer part lent no sign that hair was once there.

  He was no longer in control of his body. Like a beacon homing in on its target, his mouth dropped down and placed a kiss against her pussy. His nostrils flared when he caught the scent of her arousal.

  His tongue slipped past her lips, searching for her taste, wanting to relish her wetness.

  Heaven.

  Seductive, alluring, and all-consuming heaven.

  That’s what she tasted like.

  “Brandon…” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  His tongue flicked across her clit, alternating slowly and meticulously between swipes of his tongue and kisses before sliding inside of her.

  His restraint was wearing thin.

  Her taste.

  Her scent.

  Her soft skin.

  They were all his undoing.

  He swiped his tongue across her clit one last time, eager to bury his cock inside her wet heat. But that one simple motion proved to be what she needed.

  “Oh, God…Brandon… There! Yes there!” she screamed.

  He slid his tongue further into her, relishing the feel of her pussy contracting around him as she came. He held on to her as she shook and trembled. Her fingers relaxed, no longer digging into him as she floated from her orgasm.

  Placing tiny kisses against her sensitive flesh, he loosened his grip on her ass and crawled up onto the bed, finding his place between her thighs.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, while cupping her cheek and gently brushing it with his thumb.

  She looked like an angel, only a really naughty one. Her curves laid out perfectly against the canvas of her skin.

  Her eyes traveled down his body and stopped on his midsection. A droplet of pre-cum sat on the tip of his cock, and he rubbed it with his thumb, grasping his hardness and stroking it.

  “Do you see what you’re doing to me?”

  She bit on her lower lip and stared at him with an eagerness he’d never seen in a lover.

  He pushed her legs apart and positioned himself at her entrance while looking down at her.

  Slowly, he slid his head past her lips, delving into her wet slit and stretching her opening. She whimpered and muttered something under her breath that he couldn’t make out.

  Using one hand to brace himself, he used the other to squeeze her nipples, rubbing them between his fingers and flicking the tip as he drove further into her.

  She moaned and arched her back, pushing her pussy further against him and driving his cock deeper inside of her. The tight and velvety vice felt like pure heaven.

  He was so close. So fucking close. But he wanted her to fall just once more.

  Urgent and hungry for her release, he trailed his right hand down her hip and brought it to her pussy. His impatience didn’t allow him to slowly coax her to a release. His need was primal and far too strong for him to take it slow.

  He slid his thumb against her clit, rubbing it vigorously. Her body jolted and shook from his simple touch. He silently begged for her orgasm and within seconds his wish was granted.

  Screaming his name, her body trembled just as the walls of her pussy contracted around him, pumping him while her core flooded him with her liquid heat. His own orgasm clawed at him, creeping up at him from the inside out until he felt it explode.

  His hips bucked wildly as he felt the first of his cum spill into her. Breathlessly, they held on to each other, their eyes locked almost as tightly as their bodies.

  This was it.

  This was what he’d been missing. She was what he had been missing.

  He wanted to capture every second of their first time together.

  He’d only ever fallen once before. And now with Alena he was falling again. Falling for good.

  Chapter Nine

  Jamie Hines typed feverishly into the keyboard, hoping and praying the intel she’d just received from one of their informants was wrong. She’d already sent an urgent message to Carl and the others, but every second that passed seemed like days.

  “Jamie, what is it?” Carl stormed into the room.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” she demanded.

  “I got your message seven minutes ago. What the hell’s happened? Is it one of our team members?”

  “No.” She shook her head after reading the verification on the monitor before her.

  “Then what?”

  “It’s worse, Carl.”

  “What could be worse than one of our team members being hurt?” he asked.

  She turned to him. The hard-as-nails woman who never showed emotion looked him square in the eyes and actually shed a tear. “It’s our entire nation.”

  Carl cocked a brow at her. “What exactly do you mean?”

  “It’s Tovar. He’s not just after the girl. He’s after us all.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s…” Jamie tried her best to get the words out that shook her to her very core. “…joined forces with Al-Qaeda. He’s brokered some sort of deal. I don’t know all the details. But I do know that it’s going to be big. Bigger than…”

  “What? Say it, Hines!” Carl demanded.

  “9/11 will seem like a picnic once he’s done with us.”

  Chapter Ten

  Brandon looked down at Alena.

  Her hair was blowing against her forehead from the breeze coming through the bedroom window. She’d been asleep for over an hour, but he hadn’t slept a wink. All he could do was hold her, relishing in the feeling of her body next to his.

  He’d always told himself he’d never feel the way he did for Natalie for another woman. But with Alena, something was different. Alena was different.

  This was no longer a mission that he needed to complete. It wasn’t a job he’d promised Carl he’d finish. At some point, everything had changed. And nothing and no one could change the path he was now on.

  The cell phone rang, distracting him from his thoughts, and he reached over to the bedside table to answer.

  “Get Alena. A helo is on its way.”

  Brandon shot up in bed, waking Alena in the process. “What’s going on?”

  “We don’t have time for that. Just get Alena and meet at the extraction point.”

  Brandon wanted to argue. He wanted answers. He wanted to know what had changed. But he knew Carl. He knew the man operated one way and one way only. No bullshit, and no mistakes. If Carl said it was time to leave, then Brandon knew damn well it was time to leave.

  “What’s going on?” Alena asked.

  If Brandon wasn’t so worried for her safety, he might’ve ravished her for a second time that day from the sight of her messy hair and heavy-lidded, sexually sated eyes.

  “No time to explain. We need to fly.”

  “Is it my father?”

  “I don’t think so,” he answered while throwing her clothes at her.


  “You don’t think so?”

  He let out a sigh and turned back to face her. “If it was your father, I’m sure Carl would’ve told me. All I know is we have to move. Our location may have been compromised. I don’t have the details. But Carl Kuntz is one of the few men I trust with my life. The only question is, do you trust me?”

  She didn’t hesitate, nodding in answer. “I do.”

  “Good.” He offered her a quick peck on the cheek. “Just get dressed. I’ll grab our things. We need to be on the southeastern shore in less than five minutes.”

  Brandon didn’t hesitate as she began dressing. He hurried through the small dilapidated house, pulling out all of the firearms he had hidden in various locations, while removing any evidence of their visit to the small island.

  A minute later he had Alena by his side, and they were running down the long inlet to the bay that connected the outer banks to the Atlantic Ocean. A helicopter hovered just above, dropping down a chained ladder. Brandon waited for Alena to climb up, then followed her with their bags hanging over one shoulder. The copter floated above the sandy beach as he made his first step on board.

  Cari Russell was their pilot. She looked back to Brandon and gave him the thumbs up, indicating they were ready to disembark.

  “Any chance you’ll tell me what’s going on?”

  “Negative. Kuntz will fill you in back at HQ.”

  He nodded, knowing full well that was procedure.

  “Is everything okay?” Alena asked.

  Brandon didn’t know the answer to her question, though his gut told him everything wasn’t okay. In fact, for Carl Kuntz to have the urgency in his voice that he did, Brandon was pretty positive that something was very wrong.

  He couldn’t tell her that, though. He wouldn’t allow her to worry when she’d already been through so much.

  “Yes, babe. Everything’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I’m sure. This is normal procedure. These things happen sometimes.”

  He hated lying to her. He hated knowing that he was looking her in the eye and being deceitful. But Alena was no longer just a job. She was a part of his life. And he would protect her no matter what.

  Out of all of his missions, she was his most precious cargo.

  Acknowledgments

  To my friends who have protected and served, I thank you for your countless hours of attention given to me and the questions I have in order to tell my romantic suspense with accuracy and a true admiration for those who do the heavy lifting.

  I cannot mention your names, but you know who you are. And I thank you immensely!

  Nicole Morgan

  About the Author

  Nicole Morgan has been writing since 2009 and is an author of erotic romance novels, which more often than not have a suspenseful back story. Erotic romance mixed with good old-fashioned whodunit. While she’s written everything from contemporary to paranormal, her leading men will more than likely be wearing a uniform of some kind. From military to police officers, she has a love for writing about those who protect and serve. From her very first novel (which turned into a four-book series) about Navy SEALs to her more recent releases, you will be sure to find a few twists and turns you were not expecting.

  Nicole also writes under the pen names of Taylor Brooks and Nicki Day.

  www.NicoleMorganAuthor.com

  www.nicolemorganauthor.blogspot.com

  www.twitter.com/authornicmorgan

  www.facebook.com/authornicolemorgan

  www.pinterest.com/AuthorNicMorgan

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. References to actual persons, living or dead, is not intended or inferred.

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Morgan. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  rights@entangledpublishing.com

  www.entangledpublishing.com

  Edited by Alethea Spiridon

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition March 2019

  COMING IN HOT

  KATE MEADER

  Chapter One

  “Right there. Yeah, that’s it.”

  Eveline Ventimiglia shifted her body to give him better access, imploring with the arch of her back and the spread of her thighs to fill her deep and take what belonged to him. The sexy tease drew a lazy finger along her calf, the inside of her knee—so ticklish—tracing up to where she needed him most.

  Then he stopped.

  “Don’t stop,” she murmured. Not even his strong jaw with hints of copper in the scruff nor his broad shoulders capable of carrying her weight clued her in. Maybe it was better his identity remained a secret.

  But why was he wearing yellow football shorts, the color of the Brazilian national team? Her mind searched, and from some deep recess, the answer came rocketing back. Because he’d just returned from Russia where he’d been playing in the World Cup, silly! Duh, that made total sense.

  She inhaled the pale skin at his neck—and exhaled in pleasure at his heady, masculine, sausage scent.

  Hmm, sausage.

  Mystery man with hints of sausage knew how to please a woman. His clever fingers parted her folds and stroked through all the wetness he found there. So much of it. All for him. Her hips swiveled to egg him on.

  Egg and sausage. God, she was starving. And she still had that letter to mail to Tony Stark.

  But she was also close to coming. Mystery man just needed to rub a callused finger over her clit, one ultimate stroke, and she’d blow. She clutched at his broad shoulders, the ones strong enough to carry her weight in a fireman’s lift. Because he was a—

  Open your eyes, mystery man. Open your goddamn— Nooooo!

  With a frustrated groan, Evie’s eyes snapped open and clashed with the concerned blue gaze of a woman in a dowdy gray sweater. Color tagged her cheeks as she squinted at Evie from behind rectangular-rimmed glasses.

  “Are you okay, dear?”

  Ah, shit. Evie swallowed and shifted her overheated body into a straighter sitting position.

  “Yes, sister,” she replied to the nun sitting beside her in American Airlines economy class. “Just…just a dream.” A crazy, inappropriate sex dream with—don’t even think his name. If she pretended it wasn’t him, then she didn’t have to deal with it.

  The flight attendant shoved a foil-covered package her way with a sneer that signaled she was not paid nearly enough to listen to passengers having dirty dreams on her watch. “Egg and sausage wrap.”

  Right, egg and sausage. Evie blinked, becoming more aware of her surroundings. The cattle car on the Rome to Chicago flight. Of all the places to have an erotic dream about—no, no, no, she refused to go there.

  But you went right there in that dream, you naughty girl. You begged him to touch you, take you, fuck you.

  Had she said any of that aloud? She slid a glance to her seating companion, Sr. Mary Magdalene. Only nuns with “issues” chose the name of Christianity’s most famous fallen woman. Perhaps the sister understood better than most the temptations of the flesh.

  “I hope I didn’t disturb you, sister. Just now.”

  “Oh, no, dear.” Blue eyes twinkling, she bit into her wrap, the final snack given to passengers about forty-five minutes before landing at O’Hare, and chewed before adding, “Though it sounded like you were having a lovely time.”

  Evie almost choked on a piece of sausage. Just like you wanted to with—nope, nope, I can’t hear you!

  “I wasn’t. Having a lovely time, that is.” Evie wasn’t sure why she felt a need to convince her sweet-faced companion of this. She would neve
r see the woman again. Perhaps Evie was the one who needed convincing. “It was a nightmare, really.”

  With what could be best described as a healthy dose of skepticism, Sr. Mary Magdalene studied Evie over the rims of her glasses.

  “Well, our dreams can be very revealing, can they not? Why, I once dreamed I was drowning in a bathtub filled with ketchup. Two years later, I took my vows.”

  Not quite seeing the connection, unless ketchup was the blood of Christ?

  “So, never discount your dreams, dear. I’m sure you and this Tyler will work things out.”

  Evie inhaled sharply. Apparently she hadn’t just thought his name, she’d actually moaned it aloud. During a sex dream on a crowded flight in the company of a nun.

  One would think that was the worst of it. Alas, no. The problem was not the what of the sex dream but the who of it.

  Tyler, who was not the man she needed to work things out with, because he was not her ex-fiancé. Tyler, who was a firefighter in her father’s firehouse, Engine 6 on Chicago’s north side.

  Tyler, who she should most definitely not be having erotic dreams about, given that he was completely off-limits and her best friend.

  Tyler.

  Shit.

  …

  The steamy hot firehouse shower felt pretty damn good after a dive in Lake Michigan in negative freeze-your-ball-sac February. Felt even better after the good result of pulling that kid to safety. An hour later and Tyler was still pumped up on joy juice.

  Fuck, he loved his job. The thrill of the save, the camaraderie of his brothers in fire, the appreciative looks of women in bars and grocery stores. Shallow as it sounded, he couldn’t help enjoying that last part. And it was time he took advantage of the perks of being a member of the exalted Rescue Squad, CFD’s elite division, the guys who dove into rivers and rappelled over bridges.

  A firefighter’s job was dangerous enough. A Rescue Squad firefighter’s job was the most dangerous of all. It required a cool hand, a steady head, and balls of steel. Tyler had all three.