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I dropped my forehead to hers. “Fuck me."
My lips crashing on hers wasn't planned. But goddamn it to hell, I couldn't stop. She was my kryptonite, and I was going to die if I didn't have her. Maybe this one last time. I rubbed my dick against her heat, and instead of squirming to be released, she moaned again. My tongue dipped into her mouth, and she shuddered. When I pulled back, my gaze locked on hers.
All she did was whisper, "Lock, please."
And that was all I needed to hear. In less than five seconds, I had her leggings dragged down, my shorts off and I was filling her slick, tight pussy in one brutal thrust.
There was no finesse. No love words, no tender caresses. We were desperate and short on time and could be discovered at any moment. All I could do was bury my face in her neck, slid a hand under her shirt, fight with her sports bra, and pump her full of my cock.
I was lost to the sensations as her hands dug in my hair, holding me in position. Her hips lifting to meet mine with every harsh thrust. And the constant murmur of my name on her tongue.
When she started to get louder, with her, ‘Oh God, yes there,’ And her, ‘Please please please,’ I bit her on the shoulder.
“Hush, or I'll be forced to make you come with an audience. There's no way I'm stopping.”
I felt her quiver around my cock. I knew what was coming. The maelstrom that was headed for us. I wanted to take longer. To draw it out. But I couldn't. Because then she actively squeezed me from the inside and all I could do was throw my head back and grunt as I filled her with cum.
Her nails on my back were going to leave marks for days. I could feel the blood welling to the surface as she clawed at me trying to drag me deeper.
I don't know how long we lay there, on the mats, her quivering around me with aftershocks, my cock refusing to go down. But I managed to drag my head up to meet her gaze.
I was lost. We both were.
* * *
Saffron
I could feelhis eyes on me. The heat of them, the way he watched me.
All I could think about was how he’d bit my shoulder and told me to be quiet or he would make me come with somebody watching.
Christ in heaven. I squeezed my thighs together, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think of him and the way his hands gripped my hips. His snarl of dissatisfaction when he couldn't get to me quickly enough. The way his big hands had wrapped around my ankles and dragged me to him when I tried to squirm away because it was too intense, too much.
My fingertips played across my lips, and in my peripheral vision, I could feel him. The smugness came off him in waves. He knew what I was thinking about.
Unfortunately, I got the distinct impression Tabatha did too. Because she looked over and lifted her brow as she assessed me.
I deliberately looked away.
When Gabe came in, he gave each of us a nod. "All right, the gang is all here. I recognize there were some ruffled feathers over our association with Mr. Webster, but he has yielded actionable intel."
I immediately sat forward. "What?"
Gabe nodded. “Yep. We have Graciella. We need an agile team, small and flexible. You won't have much support.”
I couldn't help it. I immediately glanced over to Lock. That was us. "No support from other divisions?"
He shook his head. "The way Oversite sees this, it’s our mistake to correct. We might get supplies if needed, but nothing else. So we have to move quickly. We don’t know what she's doing back in New York or how long she’ll be there. We can assume it has to do with Antonio.”
I cursed under my breath. "Why would she go back? What did she leave behind?"
"That's what we need to find out. We have a capture order on her. Bring her back."
Lock's voice was low when he asked, “Is that a dead or alive order, or distinctly alive?"
Gabe sighed. "The request is alive unless absolutely necessary."
Graciela Natanya owed us blood. But we were Rogues, not the kind of people who killed people in cold blood.
