Honey Moon (5 page)

A hint of foamy beer, testosterone rising, a cascade of sex in her mouth with delicious lips promising he had so much more to give. In and out, his tongue explored and plundered in a skilled yet relentless, escalating rhythm. Every nerve she had hummed with a sizzling desire for faster, harder, more. Moisture pooled between her legs and her lungs remained locked. Who needed oxygen? Why breathe if sucking air instead of him would interrupt a missile headed toward fireworks?

Her brain fogged even further as it registered his other hand no longer rested on her hip, but inched her skirt upward. Her body reacted without her say-so. She pushed backward, granting him easier access and—
nooo—
he eased free from the hottest kiss of her life.

He didn’t move those lips far. She panted, her temperature rocketing into supernova territory. He nuzzled her neck, nibbling the pounding blood trying to jerk out of her skin. “Who are you?” he murmured. “What do you want? Explain fast, or you’ll have to pardon me for more than just a kiss.”

Just
a kiss? Is he nuts? I’m speechless. Marked. Nothing, no man will ever taste the same.

He tugged her back, his lower body firm against her. His hold tightened as he understood she could easily melt into a puddle at his feet—not that that would be a bad thing. Reduced to nothing but drops of lust, she’d trail down his chest, a clinging waterfall of need, tasting his groin, dripping along his cock and down those long legs—
concentrate, you idiot. What’d he say?

Pardon him for more than a kiss? He’d spoken quietly but clearly and without a hint of indecision. An alpha promising he’d be too fast and powerful to manipulate. The barn door was open and
ohmygodohmygod.
Long, thick and hard pressed into her stomach. “I-I… What?”

He chuckled as he lowered his lips back to her ear. “You forgot your name?” His low tones were barely audible. Warm breath sent rushes of heat careening throughout her. “Doesn’t matter—and good you don’t know me. My identity would trigger unwanted interest. I’m hoping the feeds don’t transmit farther than the vault of who cares. Say no if I go too far. And yes, damn it, your knee will work as well. Now ask me what I want in a normal tone.”

He pulled back, dark gaze staring at her, and she pushed the words out, “I’m sterile. Certified clean. Your preference?”

“Upfront fuck. Clothes on,” he said in a soft voice, but clear enough for low-budget security. “No more discussion, except I’ll pay as well if you whisper the dirtiest words you know.”

Excitement and horror danced in her stomach. She’d never had consensual sex with a stranger before, let alone on camera in a public restroom.

He splayed his fingers across her lower back as he bent to her ear. “Speak to me so audio can’t pick up. Please. Hurry before I forget this is an act. Sorry. You’re so sweet, pretty and…er…fuckable.” His other hand tightened on her hip, the skirt draped over his arm and her black panties exposed. Her legs trembled, nerves on fire as his fingers crept for the elastic band.

Jenna closed her eyes. “You gotta trust me,” she whispered. “I’m not crazy, just read between lines, do the math and reach conclusions. I worry if you”—a ray of thought poked through the lust cloud. This man intimately caressing along the rim of her panties was about to get married—“and your fiancée get on one of those lunar shuttles leaving in two days that you’ll not walk on any satellite or anywhere for long.”

His hand stilled, perilously close to pushing her into orbit, propelled by the swollen cock outlined against her thigh.

Hard, hard, hard to explain. Spit it out.
She drew a breath and forced herself to speak.
“I think news will broadcast everywhere saying all the honeymoons were extended without charge while homes are being readied. Then some made up catastrophe happens within domes constructed as cheaply and fake as possible, to explain deaths which are actually murders—”

Her words froze as his hand pushed between her legs to cup her sex. Any cognitive ability she had went poof. She lurched into him, grinding down and—
goddamn bastard
—he withdrew his hand and stepped back. Her throat closed up. She couldn’t speak if her life depended on it. Well, it probably did, and clearly he didn’t believe… What was he doing?

He unzipped, leaving his pants low on his hips. Her heartbeat stuttered as he closed the gap between them, and a huge package humped into her stomach. “Your turn to trust,” he muttered. “Name isn’t Cooper, but Dexter, and not another soul knows what I plan. Has to stay that way. Gonna expose…more than myself. Don’t involve yourself further or say a word to anyone. After I pretend to fuck you, link your wrist phone to mine, then walk out of here and stay low. Got it?”

Oh my God, Sam Dexter? Oh no, no. This—his interest in the LC—is
my
fault?
Surprise crashed through her, almost making her forget the tension and ache, the need for his hand back where it’d been.

Samuel Dexter was the man behind
In the Loop
, one of the top political blogs in the world—a blog she’d commented on a month ago, wondering why someone didn’t look into the suspicious soaring of the Love Center stock prices—as if a handful of the ultra-rich had reinforced a monopoly before the LC’s launch of the much anticipated Lovers & Spouses in Space program. She’d remarked on the need for amateur sleuthing, then proceeded to do so herself. But so had he, damn him, obviously without asking for advice or help based on what he’d said—that no one else knew about his involvement with some plan or conspiracy.

She swallowed hard.
Holy crap. Sam Dexter.
Highly intelligent, but overly confident with a savior complex. A lone civilian shouldering this? He’d most likely get himself crucified, no matter how powerful his following was. She blurted, “That’s bad…um…you bad naughty boy. I can help—oh!”
Hurt.
He’d spanked her.

He pulled his hand back, prepared to smack her on the butt again. “Remember the rules,” he mumbled. “No screaming.” He rubbed her backside, easing the sting. “How many guys have you toyed this long with? None like me, I expect, and it’s time you stop playing risky games, little working girl.” He jerked his head down to whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you, but no—absolutely no. Too dangerous for you.”

Pressure increasing, his hand forcibly eased apart her butt cheeks, and she couldn’t help the fear shuddering through her.

He noticed. Smoothed his hand up for her waist and, to her astonishment, she wanted those fingers right back where they’d been. His touch—
honestly, Sam Dexter?
—stimulated her like no other, effectively erasing the memory of mere hours ago and another man mauling her backside.

Get your signals right, idiot. This is your heart talking, as well as your libido. Forget the past before you lose the chance for a memory of a lifetime.

She laid her palm on his arm, pushing down. His breath hitched as her chest molded into his. He shifted back, hand dipped back to cup her butt as his other wrapped around to fondle the edge of her breast through the thin cotton of her blouse.

“Shh, just tell me,” he muttered. He rubbed against her, stroking and leaving her floundering as she tried to remember what he’d asked. How’d he expect her to understand coded script when he ignited every erogenous zone?
Think, Jenna. Think
.

He’d asked how many she’d managed to warn. He’d know the LC posted names of winners for the world to see.

She squirmed, his fingers beneath her skirt caressing against the sheer silk of her panties, and she fought to steady her voice. “I tried with four others. Three never showed and the one that did…went badly. You’re the first to actually listen. I’ll come—”

He nipped her ear. “There’ll be no coming except… Sorry—on the edge here.” He proved his point by homing in with his other hand, pressing panties and fingertips into her butt crack, leaving the rest of her screaming for attention. “I don’t think I can stop the come about to happen, but the other will never happen. Understand?”

Hell yes.
And she’d be damned if this gorgeous fool got off anywhere without some sort of backup. She could play dirty, as well.

I want him. Honest to God, Sam Dexter in real time and space, in front of me.
He groaned as she grasped his waistband and shot her hand into his boxers.

A lovely dick leaped out to shake her hand, flesh against flesh, pre-cum oozing, and he growled. “Still can’t—”

She squeezed.

He grunted. “Easy, you little witch.”

“Difficult, you big…”
What the hell’s the opposite of a witch? Who cares?
Rather beyond her to think past the word big.
Then stop thinking.
She drew her fingers up, caressing the delicious slope
.

“You aren’t”—his breath hitched as she stroked down—“listening.”

“I am. And I insist on a finale I’m part of.” His juicy cock pulsated in her grip, inch after inch after inch, all promising the ride of her life.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “You have a death wish? Shouldn’t I do all I can to end this without…er…pounding you so hard you can’t move for two days?”

Two days until shuttles launched. She maintained her grasp on his cock. “Whatever. The price includes your happiness, not mine. In this moment, as well as what’s ahead. Not as if your fiancée knows what you really desire, right? Is she as good as me, as understanding of how large
this
is?” She fondled him, tickling the pads of her fingers along the veins of his cock as her heartbeat jackhammered into her ribs.
Large, indeed. Oh my yes, he’s perfect
. All she’d imagined and more. She couldn’t let Sam Dexter stop
this
wondrous moment throbbing in her hand right now, then take
that
deadly ride without her.

“My intended is clueless,” he grunted, hips bucking and cock shifting against her hold. “But remember, I didn’t pay for
this
. I’m a loner who tries so hard to avoid harm to naïve brides. Call girls, that’s different, yet the ending—no future—is not.”

“Alone isn’t good either. Gonna go splat, make a mess, without professional help.” She dragged her hand north, reached his slippery crest, and slid her fingers south, increasing the tension winding within her to almost unbearable strain. “The clock’s ticking, Mr. John. You afraid to lose control?”

He groaned and ran his hand up her thigh, curving back into her panties to head directly to Go. Rubbing lightly then harder, he circled and tap danced at her entrance. “Women, including you, are too hot to risk…I mean resist, but I’m taking a vow in two days. Like I said—no future.” Two of his fingers shot into her, plundering the wetness. “Oh God, you’re tight.” He held her weight as her knees buckled. His thumb rubbed and teased her clit. He lowered his head, groaning in her ear. “You gotta say no. Now.”

“Yes,” she croaked. She milked her hand along his length, teasing over the head, feeling the thin slit with the pad of her thumb.

His breath hissed between clenched teeth. “You want
this
for real?”

“I said yes.” The words leaped out of her mouth.

“Promise. You’re not to interfere with my life. Say yes again.”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

She released him, drew her hand out of his pants and flung her arm around his neck. “Please.”

With a sharp snap of his wrist, her panties came down. He stumbled until his shoulders hit the door. He seized her hips, lifted her off her feet and she bent her knees forward. The powerful head of his cock hit the mark, found her more than ready, and she moaned as he filled her in a long, wonderful thrust.

She arched, he bucked and worked her back and forth, pulling out, pounding back in so deep and far she couldn’t tell where he ended. Heat rushed up her spine, roared into her head and within an animalistic rutting of who knew how long except it wasn’t long enough, she gasped her release into his chest and he did the same. Spurt after spurt, she never wanted it to end.

His murmur into her ear—“I’m sorry, sorry”—eventually penetrated the blissful spiral.

He eased her off his waist onto legs of satiated jelly and held her.

A kiss, butterfly sweet, on her forehead grounded her back into the reality of a restroom stall. She blinked open her eyes. The worry in his gaze was the catalyst for the best moment of her life to dissipate. She shifted back, taking her weight from him.

He shoved and pushed until his still-turgid cock disappeared as she yanked up panties and smoothed down her skirt.

“Thank you,” he said in a flat voice. “You’re well worth the extra.”

She stiffened. Nothing but a business transaction to provide cover for her warning of a conspiracy he already knew about? That’s all the five minutes of mind-blowing sex had been to him? “Extra?”

He stared at her, deep emerald eyes so dark he drew the soul right out of her. “A tip for services rendered to my satisfaction.”

Oh right. He’d said he’d pay more if she whispered. The ruse so they could talk during this recorded show without triggering a signal boost so every word was caught on tape. She held out her arm and he pressed his wrist phone against hers.