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Ohhh… Oh FUCK…
I felt an obscene thrill as he entered me again. Winced at the iron grip of his hands on my ass as he plowed into me, over and over, driving himself so hard against my insides that I had to screw my eyes shut in pain and pleasure.
I put my hand up, to keep my head from hitting the wall. Gritting my teeth I screwed back even harder against him. All at once I wanted him in me. I wanted his come inside me, elicited straight out of his body and into mine whether he liked it or wanted it or not.
“Fuck!” I screamed, using both hands on the opposite wall. “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!”
We gave it to each other like that for a long time, until Briggs finally stepped back, his hands wrapped in my hair. He spun me around. Grabbed one of my legs and threw it high up over his shoulder, his expression all fury and anger and lust.
My eyes fluttered open, and we were staring face to face for the first time. His teeth were clenched. His jaw flexed as he pushed forward, burying himself back inside me, this time fucking me with one leg still scissored upward.
It was deep. Deep and personal. Our faces practically touched, our mouths just centimeters apart as we stared eye to eye, iris to iris, the tiny glint of moonlight playing against the dark ink of his pupils.
“I’ve been waiting for you…” I breathed.
He didn’t talk, or slow, or stop. He only kept on thrusting, over and over, plunging himself in and out of my swollen pussy.
“All this time…”
His breath was my breath. Our physical connecti
on, unspeakably deep and meaningful. And he was looking at me now. Looking through me…
“Waiting for you to come home.”
I gasped as his arms went impossibly tight. Briggs dug both hands into the flesh of my ass, pulling me against him as he began throbbing inside me. His cock twitched and pulsed, thumping powerfully against my insides as he erupted with savage heat and wetness.
“There…”
I clutched his head. Drove his face hard into my breasts.
“Right there baby… right inside me…”
He kept coming. Shooting. Emptying himself in my womb. It was like being filled with molten lava. Sprayed from within…
“Ohhhhhhh…”
Briggs’ whole body shuddered violently, and I clenched him tight through the torment of his ecstasy. He burrowed his face even harder, driving himself deep between my warm, wet mounds.
“Shhhhhhh…”
I even soothed him as he came down. Stroked the back of his short-cropped hair. Kissed his shoulder, his cheek, his forehead…
Then our legs let loose and we collapsed, still kissing, to the shower floor.
Forty-Five
BRIGGS
It was just after Dragon Hammer but before Eastern Fury, where we went back to Fallujah for what could’ve been a very bad time. Thankfully, that last part never happened. But the other part…
Well, the other part did.
At the time we were celebrating. We’d detained the right people. Recovered more than one hundred eighty individual weapons caches, and taken them from the hands of insurgents. They was a lot of bad stuff mixed in with it, too. Incendiary mortar rounds and rockets, and at least fifteen pounds of plastic explosives.
We were on the way back when it happened.
We’d stopped at the ass end of Baghdad — Rashid District, just on the other side of the Tigris. There was a contact there I needed to meet. Someone of great value, high importance. Someone whose intel had never proven wrong, in more than two dozen meetings, over the scope of several operations.
