Her Next Breath (Uncharted SEALs Book 2) (7 page)

Her thighs squeezed his shoulders. One hand pulled on her own hair, the other cupped a breast. When he petted her mound, kneading and pressing, he saw her belly begin to quiver.

Again, he lapped her then scraped upward the top of her sex to expose her clit to the air and the lashing of his tongue.

All the while she stared, her eyes shimmering.

At the end of another lazy lick, he fluttered his tongue against her clit then stroked it. When he took it into his mouth, he sucked and felt a tremor in her thighs. He rimmed her with one finger, gathered her moisture, and slowly inserted it, swirling inside her slick walls.

He groaned. He was hard, his cock digging into the mattress, but she wasn’t ready, and from the feel of her, so tight, so untried, he knew she couldn’t take him as deeply or roughly as he wanted. He pulled free then slipped two fingers inside her, widening them to stretch her, rubbing her channel, until he found the spot.

Suri cried out and arched her back, her pretty nipples pointing the ceiling.

He rubbed again, felt moisture drench his hand, and withdrew. He kissed a path up her body then rested on his elbows, giving her his weight, letting her feel the hard ridge trapped between them.

When she opened her eyes, she smiled. “Come inside me, Jackson.”

He lowered his head and kissed her, taking her mouth savagely. But she didn’t seem to mind. She bit his tongue then sucked on it. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted his hips, reached between their bodies and centered the tip of his cock at her entrance. Her pussy contracted, caressing the head. Lord, he’d never last. He’d have to make it up to her. She was too perfect. Too sexy for him to resist. Praying he wouldn’t ruin this for her, he flexed his ass and pushed inside.

‡

S
uri might not
be experienced, but she’d read enough romance novels to have certain expectations. The hero was almost always careful to prime his heroine for sex. He wasn’t selfish or squeamish. He gave her what she needed, always putting her pleasure before his.

Jackson didn’t know it, but he’d just risen to star in her very own story, his tenderness lifting him far above any fictional hero. Every action since he’d joined her on the mattress had been perfect. She felt cherished. Safe. And now, so aroused she was quivering head to toe.

He was barely lodged inside her, just the tip and perhaps an inch of his length. His body trembled as he held still. He wasn’t deep enough to take away the ache. So she lifted her legs, wrapped them high over his hips, and squeezed to pull him into her.

He resisted, arching a brow.

“Jackson, I want more, please?” Maybe
he
wasn’t ready. Other than stroking his cock to acquaint herself with his girth and length, she’d done nothing to incite his lust.

Going with her instincts, she trailed her fingers down his broad chest, plucking at his hair, circling on his flat nipples.

He stayed suspended above her, watching her, his eyebrows lowering.

That expression probably scared the shit out of the enemy, but for her, it was like a jolt of female Viagra. More cream spilled down her channel.

He drew a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. Braced on his arms above her, he slowly drove inside her, pulling back, then gliding deeper—working his way inside her body in steady pulses.

Each stroke was better than the last. Her hips and thighs relaxed, her breaths evened into something just short of a pant. She began to move counter to his thrusts, greeting him, savoring the fact he was connecting their bodies in a very primal way.

But still, she wanted more. How could she encourage him to just let loose? He seemed to like her breasts, stealing glances as he’d stripped and rolled on his condom. So, she’d start there.

She cupped both breasts and pushed them up, massaging them then tweaking the tips.

His gaze locked on what her hands were doing, and his cock hardened inside, his thrusts quickening, deepening.

She lowered her lids and dug her head into the pillow, arching her back and writhing—not something she had to pretend she wanted to do, she simply went with her instincts.

As he tunneled deeper, pushing and pulling his cock through her channel, she pleasured herself, gliding a hand down her belly, and into the top of her stretched folds. Her clit was hard and exposed. The air had dried it. She stuck a fingertip into her mouth then rubbed the moisture in quickening circles on her clit, until she was no longer trying to drive him crazy. She was right there. “Jackson,” she cried out, her voice shrill inside the small room.

He pushed deep then slid his arms beneath her body and rolled them both, not stopping until she was on top, her thighs splayed over his hips. “Guess I wasn’t movin’ fast enough for you,” he murmured, his smoky eyes half-lidded.

“You were wonderful,” she said, “but I already told you, I’m not fragile.” She placed her hands on his chest and lowered her body. Her nipples scraped his skin, and she rubbed against him, liking the way her nipples caught his chest hair.

Jackson moved his hands around her waist then lower, gripping her ass. He moved her up his body, then down again, the shallow motions a tease.

“I’m not sure I’m strong enough for this, Jax,” she said softly. “I’ll run out of breath.”

His firm mouth curved at the corners. “Get yourself excited. Use my cock to do it. I’ll take over when you’re ready.” He reached for the pillows and stuffed two beneath his head and shoulders. “Sit up. I want to see you.”

He wanted to watch her boobs jiggle. Her mouth pursed, and then she grinned. She pushed up, groaning because gravity pulled her down his shaft. He was so deeply embedded their groins met, and her clit was being tickled by coarse hairs.

“Move.”

Again, that authoritative tone. One that made her back snap. She scooted her knees closer to his hips, and then lifted herself, sliding up his cock, relishing the feel of his thickness moving through her channel. Then she sank, liking it even better when she was stuffed full with him. Moisture was plentiful and kept her up and down glides from burning from the friction.

His hands squeezed her ass, and he jerked them up then down, moving her quicker. And she didn’t complain, because she was ready, moving faster and faster. She bounced on his cock, enjoying the jouncing of her breasts and the slap of her intimate flesh against his.

Sweat broke on her face and torso, and she grew breathless. She didn’t want to stop, but she also didn’t want to pass out before she orgasmed, so she halted, swaying over him. “Your turn,” she gasped.

His smile was thin and slightly feral. He pulled her arms, bringing her against him, then closed both of his around her back and rolled again.

She liked it when he was on top. His weight was a heavy, comforting blanket. And his body was accessible. She couldn’t resist the urge to sweep her hands over his strong back or trace his spine—or scrape her nails down his hot skin to his ass. Fair was fair. She gripped both round, hard globes and squeezed. “You have to move,” she said, glaring up at him.

Instead, he cupped her face and kissed her. When he drew back, he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Hold on tight.”

More wetness flooded her sex.

He hooked both arms beneath her knees and raised her butt from the mattress, allowing him to straighten on his knees. Then he pulled her forward at the same time he drove into her, moving her gently at first, then with increasing power, quicker and quicker, until the sounds their bodies made had her nearly swooning—moist, slick slaps where their groins met, his harshening breaths, her needy whimpers.

When he was pistoning fast, they locked gazes. “This what you wanted?” he gritted out.

“Yes!”

He slowed—the bastard!—and lowered her legs, then came over her, raised on one elbow as he slid his fingertips over her clit. Then he stroked her again—this time tunneling, driving deep, hooking his strokes to skim a spot inside her that had her panting. “There, there,” she said. “Please, don’t stop.”

He lay over her and slipped both hands beneath her ass to hold her still, then rutted, his face reddening, his features tightening. The more desperate his strokes became, the louder she moaned. She wound her arms and legs around his body, hugging him close, letting him do the work as she held her hips at just the right angle.

Suddenly, a wave of pleasure broke over her, and she keened. Jackson kept thrusting, keeping the rhythm, ensuring her orgasm went on and on.

He gave a muffled shout and speared her once more. Even through the condom, she felt the pulses as he ejaculated.

They both lay trembling, sweating so much their bodies glided together. He urged her legs to the bed, and then rested on both his elbows as he stared down at her, a muscle on his jaw rippling.

Was he wondering what he should say?

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I never expected anything like that. It was more…everything,” she said, laughing softly at the end because her mind was still a jumble of excited thoughts.

Jackson bent and took her mouth. His kiss was sweet, just a press of lips. “I must be heavy.”

“Please don’t move, not yet.” She didn’t mind his weight. And she didn’t want to break the connection—her body locked with his. She smoothed her hands up and down his back, memorizing his hills and valleys.

“Was it what you expected?” he asked, giving her cheek a scrape of his bristly one.

Was he looking for praise? He’d certainly earned it. But she felt a little shy about admitting that he’d completely rocked her world. Instead, she said, “I liked it.”

An eyebrow arched.

“Did…you like it?” she asked, glancing down because she didn’t want him to see the humor in her eyes.

A grunt shook against her chest. He pulled free, but instead of leaving the bed, he lay down on his side and opened his arms.

She snuggled eagerly against him.

“You were beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her hair.

A smile stretched across her face, she leaned back her head to meet his narrowed gaze. “Jackson, you blew my mind.”

His laughter was quick and sharp, and then he hugged her closer.

“Fucking you should be an Olympic sport,” she said, yawning.

“Wore you out, did I?”

She tweaked his nipple. “Okay, you’ve earned the right to crow.” She rested against him, smiling, feeling warm and loving the fact she’d chosen the right guy.

“Our company’s headquartered in Dallas.”

He said it so quietly she might have missed it, because she was just on the verge of sleep. She glanced up, studying his face. It was set again. Impossible to read. “That’s not too far from me.”

His eyes smiled. “Get some sleep.”

In the early
morning hours, a knock sounded on the door. Jackson knew no one would have woken him if it didn’t have something to do with Guzman.

He rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Suri, put on his shorts, and padded to the door.

Deke grimaced. “Sorry. Be in ops in ten.”

“Something break?”

“We have the son, Alejandro. Team in Cancun was watching a friend’s house when he showed up. They’ve got him in a van. They’re half an hour out.”

Jackson closed the door.

“They have Alejandro?” Suri’s sleepy voice came from behind him. She was wearing the pink nightgown.

“He’ll be here in a few.”

“Good.” She sighed. “I was worried about him.”

Jackson didn’t respond. He doubted Alejandro would be as relieved. The son of Diego Guzman wouldn’t be treated as gently as she was. “You’ll have to stay here or be in the rec room. I suggest you stay in bed and get some rest.”

“No way. He’s my friend.”

Jackson gripped her waist and gave her a steady glare. “To the U.S., he’s the son of a narco-terrorist. When we’re through questioning him, we’ll turn him over to the DEA. It’s unlikely they won’t find some charge to hang on him.”

Suri shrugged off his grip and took a step back. “He’s not a bad person. He was just born into a terrible family.”

Jackson held still while her gaze grew more accusatory. What did she expect him to do? Was she really that naïve?

“Jackson, I’m not stupid, I know he’ll be able to help you, but he won’t be eager to do so. If he talks, he won’t ever be safe again. I met his father. He’d kill him in a second if he learns Alejandro betrayed him.”

Junior would talk. Teague would make sure of it. And then Alejandro would be safe in lock-up somewhere.

“Maybe if he was offered a deal. He could start over with a new name.”

“Yeah, he might be offered that—when he gets stateside, and the DEA is certain he shouldn’t be the one doing life. But until then, he’s our prisoner. You don’t go near him.”

Her mouth firmed into a line, and she turned abruptly on her heel. The bedroom door shook in its casing from the strength with which she slammed it. Jackson nearly smiled. “I still have to get dressed.”

A moment later, the door opened, and his clothing sailed out.

“Thanks.” And then he did smile. Suri really was one hot mess when she was riled.

He dressed quickly then walked to ops. Although daybreak, the sky remained dark from thick cloud cover. In the distance came the sound of thunder.