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He kept biting, and licking, and running his hands over her ass like he was exploring a woman for the very first time. Kimberly kept coming, her cries flying from her lips to dance around her head like a chorus of rapture as her body came apart in a way it never had before.
Kimberly didn’t feel him when he eased away; the echoes of what he’d created in her were still as real and resounding within her as the reality had been. She didn’t know how he got her panties off either. She only vaguely noticed them drop to the floor under her nose.
Then she heard Dean say, “Help me out here, Sammy,” and Kimberly felt a second set of hands, a stranger’s hands, grab hold of her ass and spread it. That icy-cold swipe went straight down her crack, followed instantly by blazing heat before her mouth even opened to scream.
Then Dean was inside her, and she neither felt nor cared whether he put the fire out. Or if his friend stepped back.
Fireworks erupted, and flames raged, and Kimberly wailed out her pleasure to the gods as Dean drove that fire deep into her. Everything inside her went up in an inferno of unimaginable pleasure.
Dean bent over her, his massive size going deep to the point of pain as he stretched his body along her back and growled in her ear. He didn’t speak, just latched his teeth onto the back of her neck. It made her think of the talk they had of beasts at the beginning of this. Kimberly felt a clenching deep inside, groaned low in her throat, and pressed back into Dean’s hammering thrusts. Desperate for more. He snarled, approving, then he wrapped her ponytail around his fist and pulled tight. Kimberly cried out again as her neck arched and her scalp flashed to sudden brilliant life. Dean released his stinging bite, and his pace picked up. He held her head steady by the hair, a knight on his steed, and picked up his pace even more.
Dean was groaning now, every guttural moan sounding like a battle for control lost, and Kimberly reveled in each audible victory. She was drunk on so many levels now, and with each pounding thrust he plowed into her, Dean only sent her higher.
Something was happening. The room began to spin, and the floor dropped away with the suddenness of a trap shoot. Kimberly started to panic. Like Charlie in the chocolate factory with the burping drink, she’d drunk too much and gone too high. As if he sensed her plight, Dean’s hips got faster, his grip on her hair got tighter, and she got higher and higher, closer to that whirring fan.
“C’mon,” she thought she heard him mutter through the gravel in his voice as his grip in her hair tightened further still, until she was arched as far as the position would allow. His pelvis was slapping so hard and so fast against hers it was a thunderous pounding like she’d never before experienced. He held her imprisoned within the cage of his hips and her hair. “You’re so close. So fucking… close.” Then, inside, where she thought disaster was coming, something else entirely hit her instead.
Kimberly bucked and opened her mouth to try to scream while the world went white and everything around her vanished in a sonic boom of silence. She couldn’t breathe to scream as her vagina clamped down with almost brutal force around his still plunging cock. Everything held there as if she’d fallen, and all the breath left her body; all she could do was wait for it to come back.
When everything did come rushing in, it was a bomb going off inside her. Incredibly, she felt the rush of her own orgasm as it splashed against Dean’s pelvis and drenched them both. Her body rocked on the bench, and her ass pressed back into his thrusts as hard and fast as her position would allow. All the while, Kimberly’s legs shook, her insides clenched, and her blood roiled like a tsunami, as wave after wave of rapture crashed, threatening to drown her in bliss.
Then Dean started to come. His hands gripped her hips, and when he lifted her clear off the bench, he made animalistic grunts and yanked her back hard—once, twice, then again, and his growls got louder each time. He pulled Kimberly back tight to his hips one last time, and she felt him swell within her. She felt that first hard pump, that throbbing heat start to spread deep inside her womb, and she cried out again, and this time her cries mixed with the music of his.
CHAPTEREIGHT
The next day,Dean sat in his supervisor’s office and waited for Senior Division Director Oliver Caspian to make his appearance. Bright California sunshine streamed in from the window and washed over his skin as images from last night flashed in his mind. They brought with them rushes of pleasure so deep he felt them like strokes of velvet on his cock.
Kimberly’s sighs. Kimberly’s gasps. Kimberly’s fucking screams. Dean swore under his breath and adjusted the perma-stiff condition he’d had since the first time she stormed into his life. He wondered how many times he’d have to take her before this condition would settle down.
After weeks of having Kimberly just out of his reach, tethered to a leash that had been tinsel-thin to start with, seeing her in that red getup finally snapped him free. He might have been able to stay away from her—despite that thrown gauntlet of a kiss in his office—had she stayed away from the club. But she hadn’t. The minx had shown up ready for war. Dean remembered wishing she was playing; with every angry, fired up, passion-fueled step he took in her direction, he both hoped she’d turn tail and run and prayed she’d stand her ground.
She’d stood.
As fire ran over the abundance that was her body, Kimberly had not only stood, but she’d trembled and purred and mewled for more. Then she’d begged and screamed for it. When Dean bit her, his face so close to her cunt, the juices ran down his nose, it’d damn near sent him tumbling over the edge after her when she came. The sound he made then was similar to the one he made now, and it made him thankful his boss was running late.
Dean ran a hand over his mouth as if he could still feel the silky texture of her moisture there and thought about how it felt to finally stand, take up the last two forceps, and ask Sammy to do the honors. He’d known the jolt it would give her, not only the reminder that they weren’t alone, but also the unexpected shock of an unknown third person’s touch.
Then Sam’s big hands had grasped those luscious, well-marked ass cheeks, lifted, and spread them. Kimberly had been so wet the juices made her ass look and sound like lips parting to take him in. He didn’t take time to linger, didn’t give her time to panic; he’d just swiped that cold white cotton straight down the line from her tailbone to her beautiful dripping pussy, then lit her on fire. As fast as he could, Dean chased that fire with his hand and finally—at fucking last—took hold of his cock and rammed himself home to the hilt. It’d been the most glorious feeling of his life.
“Holy fucking hell—” The door opened, and in walked Oliver Caspian. Here was the regional division director of the FBI for three counties, with his trench coat flapping like some kind of old-timey P.I. He was fumbling three coffees, had a briefcase under one arm and a shit load of folders stuffed under the other, and meanwhile, Sam strolled in behind him with his hands in his pockets. Dean grinned and got up to help. At least this diminished his perma-hard problem for the time being.
“Hey, Cas, lemme help you with that,” Dean said and took the folders just as two of them started to slip.
“Thanks, Dean. Here, I got you coffee. Two cream, two sugars, right?” Still fumbling but somehow managing not to spill either paper or liquid, Cas handed off one of the other cups and frowned at Sam. “And you. Don’t sit there. Are you trying to get court martialed?”
Sammy looked at Dean in mock consideration. “Does the FBI even do that?” He looked back at their boss. “Do we court martial, Cas?”
“Right now, I’m hoping we have firing squads. Just say thank you for the coffee and get your ass outta my chair.”
Sam did as he was told, laughing, and Cas was interrupted twice by his phone and once by his assistant before he finally took his seat and faced them.
“Okay,” he said and took a gulp of his own coffee, “whatcha got for me?”
“Dean got laid last night,” Sam said like a fourth grader.
“Man, would you grow up?” Dean responded in kind.
“Congratulations, Dean. Many happy returns. Now, please tell me you fucked the son of a bitch who snatched these women.” Straight-faced, flipping through the folders he brought in, Cas’s delivery was as weary as an old hunting dog’s.
