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But, surprising the hell out of me, because I thought surely I was going to blow it, Turner came first.
Long. Loud. Earth shattering.
There was a boom in my ears, and I allowed myself to come. To let go even though I was going to go regardless.
Agony and ecstasy dueling for supremacy raced down my spine. Everything felt so good at the same time it felt so bad.
I removed my finger from her ass to hold onto her hips, slamming her down so hard over me that I knew I might be hurting her. Yet I couldn’t find it in me to stop. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
My eyes closed, and my hearing picked up something that probably shouldn’t have been there, yet at first, I wasn’t able to comprehend that.
Wasn’t able to comprehend anything but the spurting of my cock as I filled her with everything I had to give.
And finally, when my head was back online enough to look around, I realized that there was smoke in the RV.
Smoke?
“Shit,” I said, dislodging Turner before she was ready.
“Castiel, hey! What the hell?” She paused from her position on the couch, then took a look around. “What the fuck?”
I shook my head and reached for my pants, pulling them up over my hips and buttoning them.
Cursing myself for not bringing my shoes, I went to the door of the RV and pushed, only to wrench my hand away.
It was hot.
Why the fuck was it hot?
I chanced a push of the fancy-ass blinds to the right of the door handle and realized true horror.
“The side of the RV is on fire,” I said. “The small little porch, and the entire side. The flames are licking up over the door to the roof.”
Turner arrived at my side fully dressed.
“There’s a back door,” she murmured. “In the bedroom.”
Which was only a few feet away from the stupid front door.
But I’d give it a try.
When we got in there, however, that one was spread over with fire as well.
“What the hell?” I asked as I went back into the living room.
My first order of business was to try the windows.
However, despite their fanciness, none of them opened enough for an adult to get through, and I felt my belly sink.
Walking to the bedroom, I grabbed a rag from the shelf where she kept the laundry, then walked to the door.
Turner wasn’t far behind, and she watched with trepidation as I used the rag as a pot holder to open the door.
When I did manage to get it open, I got a bullet to the right arm for my troubles.
I fell back against the bed and looked at the bullet hole with surprise.
It was in my bicep, through and through.
I blinked stupidly, confused as fuck, only to be hauled so hard and fast away from the door by Turner that I was surprised all over again.
“Someone’s shooting at you!” she cried out. “What the fuck?”
What the fuck was right.
Finally managing to get my head back together enough to realize what was going on, I scrambled to the side. Which happened to be just in time because whoever was outside got impatient with no longer having a target to aim at.
He started peppering the side of the RV with bullets.
Fragments of particle board, fiberglass, and wood started blowing outward through the bullet holes, as well as the bullets themselves.
Scrambling even faster, I took her as far away as I could in the space allotted to us, stopping underneath the table on the very far wall.
My heart was pounding, and poor Turner, who’d been dragged right along with me, was looking scared out of her mind.
I couldn’t blame her.
Terror was running through my blood at an alarming rate, and I couldn’t force myself to get under control because there was no control left.
I was fucking scared.
For her.
For me, too.
Because if I lost her, I realized right then, I’d be lost.
She’d become a very integral part of my life, and without her, I’d be a broken husk of a man all over again—this time even worse than before.
“What do we do?” she asked, coughing lightly.
I put my hand on the bench seat of the built-in booth surrounding the table and felt it shift.
I pushed it again, making it shift for a second time.
Then I completely peeled it off its perch and tossed it across the room.
The only thing in there was canned goods, which I shoved all the way to the side and looked further into the crevice.
“This leads to the outside, right?” I asked. “The outdoor kitchen?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
Then they went electric.
“You want to crawl through there to the outside?” she guessed.
I nodded. “I do.”
“Let’s do it.” She scrambled up and started going for it. “I can open it and look…”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “If anyone is getting shot, it’s me.”
