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“Fuck,” Thorn snarled under his breath.
Cam clenched his jaw. Again, he had to agree, especially when she made lazy circles with her fingers over her mound.
Under her touch, her hips moved slowly, restlessly. Her head fell back, exposing the column of her white throat. Her pouty mouth parted and her breath caught on a gasp.
She moaned.
“Fuck.”
“Shh,” Cam reminded Thorn again, though he noticed his own tone was definitely more than raspy. Funny how a raging hard-on could change a man’s voice.
Thorn clenched his jaw, looking ready to charge through the bushes, rip off his pants, and fuck her blind. That wasn’t Cam’s usual style, but the idea now held major appeal.
Especially when she moaned again and plunged her fingers into her pussy. Wishing he could see her better was quickly becoming an obsession. He wanted her so bad he hurt. How wet was she? Did she shave or wax? Was she swollen? Did her fingers fill her hungry sex? How tightly would her pussy grip his cock?
“Bet the carpet matches the drapes,” Thorn whispered.
Cam didn’t usually care about such things—it was the person inside who mattered to him—but in this case, something about the woman made all the rules different. And he suspected Thorn was right. There didn’t seem to be anything artificial about her, from the unaffected sensual sway of her hips to the natural weight of her firm breasts, now rising and falling more rapidly.
A sharp, sudden catch of her breath split the tense night air. Cam swallowed a groan and feared his cock would bust out of his jeans when she spread her knees wider and again raised her hips to her invading fingers.
“Fuck!” Thorn whispered harshly, adjusting his erection in his pants.
The bounty hunter’s frustration might be funny, if Cameron wasn’t in the same situation. Damn, a few minutes of watching her touch herself and already his balls felt tight, like he could shoot off at any moment. He wasn’t some damn randy teenager, but watching her made him feel like one.
Her breaths got shorter, harsher. She worked herself furiously—until Cam was breathing hard, felt himself sweating, despite the sixty-degree evening.
“That’s it, baby,” Thorn coached in a whisper. “Fuck yourself. Deeper. Oh, yeah. God, she looks sexy. I’m so damn hard, I could pound nails.”
“Just don’t ask her if she needs any help.”
The woman raised one hand to a hard nipple stabbing its way into the cool desert air and pinched it. She gave another long, low moan that had Cam biting his lip.
“Wouldn’t dream of interrupting,” Thorn murmured. “Hell of a floor show. Let her get nice and wet and pliant, then I’ll offer to soothe her with my tongue.”
“TMI,” he muttered.
But the conversation ended when she shoved her fingers even harder into her pussy, grabbed her nipple in a hard pinch, then gyrated, moaning in a series of whimpers.
She looked poised on the edge, ready to explode at any moment. Cam held his breath, grasping the edge of sanity as he watched her fast movements grow frantic, almost panicked.
She let loose a frustrated wail. Even at this distance, he could see her trembling thighs, her body so taut that every muscle vibrated with need.
But she didn’t come.
“Can’t she get off?” Thorn asked.
The beauty answered that question with a jerk back of her head, a pounding of her fists on rigid thighs, and a discouraged cry that echoed through the little courtyard.
Moments later, the cry became a sob as she gathered her knees to her chest and lowered her face until all he could see was the thick coil of her caramel-colored hair and her shoulders shaking with the force of her tears.
Her aroused mewling had reached out and gripped his cock with need and impatience. This…her sobs, they clawed at his gut, tore at his heart.
A hand on his shoulder startled him. He turned to Thorn in question.
“Sit back down, Dr. Phil, or she’ll see you. You can’t go barging over there to dry her tears. You’ll blow our cover to hell.”
Cam nodded, taking a deep breath. He’d been so far gone with the desire to hold her and help her, he’d nearly given their presence away? Not good. At all. But he couldn’t deny that some part of him ached to kiss the lushness of her mouth that darkness only hinted at, replace her fingers with his, then watch her come apart in his arms. He’d keep her tight against him if the need for tears came again.
The urge was utterly stupid.
Exhaling raggedly, Cam clenched shaking hands into fists. She was a criminal’s mistress. Whatever her issue was, it was none of his.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Thorn was already on another subject. “Think she needs pain to get off? I know from seeing Lawton’s last honey that he sure can dish it out.”
Grimacing, Cam tried to avoid a mental image of this beauty begging toilet scum like Lawton to hurt her. But he couldn’t discount the possibility that Thorn was right. What other explanation was there for her inability to orgasm?
“I don’t know but it’s not why we’re here. Let’s focus.”
“Hard to focus when all the blood in my body has gone south of my belt buckle.” Thorn grimaced.
Cam rolled his eyes. “Manage—quick. We need a plan. I hate to tip my hand too early by dropping in to question her.”
“But we’re running out of time.”
“Yeah.” Cam couldn’t ignore that reality.
Lawton’s girlfriend sniffled and lifted her face to the desert night. Silvery tears marred the smooth apples of her cheeks. He couldn’t see her eyes in the dark but the sadness that bounced off her, the despair that ate at her—he could feel it, thick and dark. Dejection pulled at her shoulders as she rose slowly, taking the towel in one hand, empty glass of wine in the other.
Even a view of her heart-stopping ass couldn’t cut through Cam’s urgent need to hold her, help her. Something was completely wrong, and he was dying to know what.
But she disappeared into the house without giving him a single clue.
At his side, Thorn released a long, hard breath. Cam wondered how long he’d been holding it.
“That girl needs to get off. Bad. I volunteer help, even if it takes all night.” Thorn’s sly grin grated on his nerves.
“Shut up, you moron. She doesn’t just need to come. Whatever is bothering her is deeper than an orgasm will solve.”
“Not my problem.”
“Fuck them and forget them, huh? Nice motto.” Sarcasm grated his voice.
Thorn gritted his teeth. “I can’t stand you pussies who are in touch with your emotions.”
“I can’t stand you assholes who can’t think past your cock.”
Silence descended, a full five minutes of it. In that time, crickets chirped, frogs croaked, while the desert wind kicked dust up into the bushes providing their cover. Lawton’s girlfriend turned out the lights at the
back of the bungalow.
And Cam felt guilty. He and Thorn had been acquaintances for a long time. Not great friends. Thorn never let anyone very close. But still, sort of friends. Squabbling over the man’s sex life was stupid. Neither one of them would likely ever have sex with Lawton’s girlfriend—much less get to help her with her orgasm deficit, more’s the pity.
Before he could open his mouth, Thorn said. “Fuck this, dude. Let’s get back to the case. I want to keep my fifty thou and you
