Soul Deep (4 page)

His hand moved from her head, flattening on her waist before smoothing to her thigh. She stilled, her lips parting as she gasped for air, her gaze locked with his as he began to draw the loose skirt of her dress up her legs.

Yes.

Cool air whispered over the stockings she wore, easing the brutal heat for just a second before it returned full force. She twisted as it cleared her knees, arched as the fabric slid over her thighs.

She would have screamed when his fingers grazed the crotch of her panties if his lips hadn’t covered hers again, his tongue pumping into her mouth as he suddenly ripped the panties, miniscule as they were, from her writhing body.

When his hand returned, she stilled, a cry tearing from her throat as the heat of his palm cupping her pussy sent arcs of lightning flaring through her body. His head lifted slowly, his eyes narrowed on her, watching her carefully as he moved lower on the bed, pushing her dress to her hips as his eyes went between her thighs.

“Waxed pussy,” he whispered. “Do you know what a turn-on that is?”

It was convenient for her. A sense of freedom, a feminine thrill. Now, the sexuality of it ripped through her.

“What have you done to me?” She tried to talk, but it interfered with breathing. She really needed to breathe right now.

“I know what I’m going to do to you,” he muttered as his fingers parted the saturated folds, sending fingers of electricity surging over her nerve endings.

Her clit kicked into high gear, the throbbing heat washed over her, causing her to arch, to twist her hips.

“Stay still.” The order was followed by a small, stinging slap landing on her cunt.

“Oh God…” Her eyes flew open as she bucked against the fire that ripped through her.

No. No. No. She was screaming the denial in her head, but her clit tightened, her juices flowing from her pussy as the sexual pain nearly pushed her into orgasm. An orgasm she knew would defy all the laws of release and satisfaction that she had so far experienced.

“This is bad,” she heard him mutter as he jerked his shirt over his head and stood to the side of the bed.

Tanned and rippling with muscle, his biceps, chest and tightly packed abs were revealed in the low light of the room. Below…she swallowed tightly at the sight of the bulge beneath those jeans.

Broad, strong hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, flicking the snap loose, rasping the zipper down and then pushing the offending material, along with his underwear, down well-muscled legs.

She was sure those legs looked really nice, but who the hell cared. Her eyes centered on the erection straining from between his thighs, hanging low, the heavy weight of the thick muscle pulling it down until it stood out straight from his body.

She swallowed tightly, wondering if there was a chance in hell she could actually accommodate that cock.

“I don’t know you,” she whispered, licking her lips, knowing it really didn’t matter.

“You will soon,” he growled.

Before she could say anything more he moved between her thighs, stretching out, his head poised above the wet, throbbing folds of her pussy.

She shuddered in desperation as she felt his breath send a cooling caress over the sensitive tissue.

“Damn, this has to be the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he whispered, his fingers running through her slit, sending her in to a quaking, shuddering response that tore a cry from her lips. “I’m going to eat you up, baby.”

Chapter Six

Amanda was certain she died when his tongue followed the path of his fingers. Slowly, languorously his tongue worked the snug little valley, gathering the juices that had pooled along it as she bucked at his lips.

His hands held her hips tight as he licked through folds of flesh that had never known a man’s touch.

Reality receded, she no longer cared who he was, what his name was, or what he intended to do with her after he was finished. All she knew was the blistering need slamming through her system, and his hot tongue licking over her flesh like fire.

He moaned into her pussy, licked and sucked at the smooth folds of flesh, then his tongue moved higher, finally, oh dear God, finally rasping over her burning clit.

“Yes,” she moaned deliriously. “Oh yes, please, please…”

He growled, a low animalistic sound as his tongue circled the tight little bud, torturing her with her need for release, swamping her with a pleasure so brutal she could barely make sense of what was going on.

“Like that?” he whispered, his breath blowing over the straining mass of nerves.

“Yes.” She needed more, needed him closer.

“You taste perfect,” he growled. “Like hot honey syrup, smooth and sweet on my tongue.”

She whimpered, her head twisting on the bed as she fought the need to beg for more.

“Do you want to come, baby?” he asked, his voice wickedly teasing. “Your little clit is so hard and swollen. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

“Yes,” she cried. “Do you want me to beg?”

“Oh yeah,” he laughed, a low dark sound. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Beg me to make you come.”

She was beyond shame. Beyond the normal boundaries of virgin hesitance.

“Suck it,” she begged, “suck my clit. Hard. Do it hard. Like you did my nipples.”

“Mmm.” The vibration of pleasure as he licked through the burning slit nearly sent her over the edge.

“Do you like it when I hurt you?” he asked her. “When I pinched your little nipples and tugged at them with them my teeth?”

“Oh God.” She shook like a leaf in a hurricane. “Yes. I do. Please, please do something.”

His fingers slid through her juices, moving down, caressing over the entrance to her vagina before circling the little puckered hole of her rear. She jerked at the caress but lay still, shaking as he did it again, then again. The fourth time she choked on a cry as the tip of his finger slid into her.

Fire. Heat.

He gathered more of her juices and repeated the movement, over and over again as his tongue licked at her swollen pussy, until she screamed with the building pressure when his finger slid deep, deep inside her burning rear.

His lips clamped on her clit then, his tongue rasping it as he sucked it into his mouth. His finger moved inside her, fucking into the untouched channel and sending those much needed, hungry flames burning through her body.

So close. She was so close… Another finger joined the first then, working into her, stretching her, burning her as his mouth suckled her, his tongue flicking pressing, destroying her.

When her climax hit, she screamed. She couldn’t stop the sound, couldn’t control the response. Fire was streaking through her ass, burning her alive with the pleasure and the pain as she exploded with such force, such overwhelming response, that nothing mattered, nothing existed but the conflagration tightening her body and burning her alive.

Until… “Hell, Kiowa, you were supposed to protect her, not fuck her.”

What happened next was little more than a hazy realization of a blanket being jerked over her as—Kiowa?—came over her with a gun aimed at the door and a growl that sounded all too animal-like.

“Damn, Simon, forget the gun in his hand, look at that dick!” the female who had entered crooned with husky appreciation.

Kiowa growled again, frustration eating him alive as Stephanie’s dark, wide eyes centered between his body where he crouched over Amanda.

The slender, pretty, female mercenary stood beside her much taller lover, Simon Quatres, who grimaced with male distaste.

“Down, girl,” he muttered, before giving a Kiowa a hard look. “Could you put some pants on or something?”

He could still smell Amanda’s arousal, sweet and hot. Beneath him, she stared back at Simon and Stephanie in dazed fascination, though he could feel the fine shudders working through her body as he tasted the essence of her need on his lips. And he wanted more.

Cursing he jumped from the bed and dragged his jeans over his hips before struggling to pull the zipper over an erection that howled in discontent at the confinement.

“Your timing sucks, Simon,” he snapped when he turned back to them, but his gaze went to Amanda.

She was staring up at him, dazed, almost drugged. But there had been no signs of drugs, he would have sensed it first thing. He frowned, moving closer to check her dilated pupils and feel the warmth of her skin.

Her whispered moan as he touched her had his senses screaming in demand. She needed to be fucked. He could smell it on the air around her, taste it on his lips, feel it surging like a wave of heat around him.

And he wanted to fuck her, so damned bad it made his back teeth hurt.

“You know, for a damned careful man, you’re making some major mistakes here,” Simon said then. “Did you forget who she was by chance? Maybe her would-be attackers hit you on the head or something?”

Simon’s blue eyes regarded him with sharp disapproval.

“I didn’t forget who she was,” he snarled back. “Let it alone and tell me what the hell happened to her Secret Service detail.”

Simon grunted. “Strange thing going on there, buddy,” he said sarcastically. “Gloria and the Ladies showed up at her place. No dead bad guys and the Goof Troup was in place next door safe and sound. All we found was a little blood on the back walk and it looked like several other patches of it had been carefully erased. Someone was busy.”

Someone was playing games.

Kiowa breathed in deeply, fighting to ignore the smell of hot willing flesh just behind him. Dammit, it wasn’t like he did without sex. He shouldn’t be so fucking aroused, so hungry to devour that sweet little body laid out like a pasha’s favorite toy.

“Any ideas?” he asked Simon then.

Simon shrugged, his shoulders flexing beneath the dark T-shirt he wore as he glanced at Amanda again.

“Word reached me there was a hit planned. Just as Dash told you. The blood supremacists have plans to use her to influence the vote next week on Breed Law. Somehow, they must have found a way to keep her disappearance from leaking to the general public. Though how they intended to do that I have no clue. Someone real close to President Marion would have to be involved in it.”

The other man’s eyes flickered to the bed behind Kiowa again. Turning, Kiowa wished he had stayed put. She was shifting beneath the blankets, a low, weak moan filling the air.

“Did you drug her?” Simon’s tone was suspicious as he watched the girl.

“No, and they didn’t either.” He pushed his fingers through his long black hair and fought to get a handle on his hunger. “Damned if know what happened. They hit her on the head, but if she was drugged, I can’t sense it.”

And Kiowa was damned good at sensing drugs.

“She’s not exactly aware.” Stephanie stepped closer to the bed, a frown marking her dark brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she had a dose of Rohypnol.”

Kiowa ground his teeth together furiously. “You think I need to pump someone full of date rape drugs to get fucked, Steph?”

Her eyes widened innocently. “With that dick? Duh. I’m certain of it. But I was accusing them more than you.”

“I know what that shit smells like.” He grimaced. He knew only too well. “She’s not drugged.”

Simon moved to the bed while Kiowa felt every muscle in his body tense in objection to the other man going anywhere near her.

She shifted on the bed again, the blanket moving with her splayed, bound legs as her breasts heaved beneath it. He tightened his jaw, gritting his teeth as another wave of heat washed over him.

Simon reached for the blanket.

The warning growl that came from Kiowa’s throat was accompanied by a snarl. He knew what the others saw. Curved canines flashing at the side of his mouth as he moved quickly to push Simon out of the way.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” The low, rumbling sound of his voice shocked him as much as it did Simon.

“This is a problem, Kiowa.” He frowned then, his blue eyes flashing in anger. “If she dies, we’re up shit creek.”

“She’s not going to die,” he snapped, certain of that fact.

“Kiowa, pay attention here,” Simon spoke with sarcastic patience. “You’re not a stupid man. Look at her. Something is fucking wrong with her.”

“Goddammit I know that,” he shot back, frustration eating at him. “The same fucking thing is wrong with me, now get the hell off my back.”

He paced to the end of the bed. Bad idea. The smell of her arousal was like a punch to his gut. Something was wrong, and damned if it wasn’t killing him too.

“Call him.” He turned on Simon again. “Now!”

Simon’s eyes widened. “Man, you don’t just call him. He calls you.”

She moaned again, a low distressed sound that twisted his gut and made his cock jerked in demand.

“Simon, you have three seconds to call him,” he snarled. “After that I’m going to rip your fucking head off your shoulders and jerk your guts out your throat. And I can do it.”

He was one of the few men that would try.

“You’re gonna get my ass kicked,” Simon snarled.

“Better kicked than dead,” Kiowa retorted. “Don’t push me Simon. I want to talk to him now.”

Simon jerked the cell phone from its hip holder and punched a button furiously before handing the phone to Kiowa.

“What?” The voice at the other end was wary, careful.

“We have a problem,” Kiowa reported, his patience straining to the limit as he listened to a series of pauses and low clicks that indicated added security to the line.

“What’s the problem?” Dash Sinclair wasn’t known for his friendly personality or his patience with problems. His military training and danger surrounding him and his family made for one very suspicious man.

“Babysitting duty has gone sour,” he snapped tightly. “She was hit on the head but woke up fine. Now, she’s showing all the signs of date rape drugs with none of the drug in her system. She’s in distress…” Damn, so was he. He was about to come in his jeans with each little whimpering moan from her throat.

“Shit!” The sizzling curse that came across the line surprised him. Dash didn’t upset easily. “Did you kiss her?”