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Grabbing her hips once more, I pump into her deeply three more times before I explode myself. My orgasm seems to go on forever. Ropes of come paint the inside of her tight channel as Natalie peppers soft kisses over my neck.
Wow, this was intense.
It takes us both a few minutes to come down from our release. Natalie covers my body like a blanket, running her fingers up and down my abs while I keep her in a tight embrace.
“Want to take a shower with me?” She offers a split second before both of our phones go off. “Never mind, I guess.”
She giggles and sits up with me still inside of her. My cock roars back to life, twitching with newfound vigor while Nat reaches for her phone.
“It’s Griffin,’ she announces. Her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “He is downstairs.”
Of course, it’s Griffin. That prick probably planned this somehow. Natalie gets up, my dick sliding out of her as she goes. I immediately miss her warmth and the connection to her. Tucking my still semi hard dick back into my pants, I reach for my own phone to unlock it.
Griffin: Come meet me in the parking garage. Now.
Ominous, but okay. Seems important.
I begrudgingly put my shirt back on while watching Natalie pick her clothes up to pull them on.
“Please don’t brush your hair,” I beg. “You look thoroughly fucked like this.” She looks so fucking sexy. I’m going to punch Griffin in the throat for interrupting this. I could have easily gone a second round in the shower. Standing up against the wall, bent over…
13
NATALIE
Ifeel it as soon as the elevator doors open onto the quiet underground garage. I couldn’t put my finger on it if I tried and couldn’t describe it to Dallas if he asked why I hesitate to step out of the elevator car. I’m probably too jumpy, practically seeing ghosts where there aren’t any.
Natalie, get it together.
There is absolutely no reason for the chill that has suddenly raced its way up my arms and left goosebumps behind. Dallas doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, stepping off the elevator and looking around for Griffin. “Well?” he mutters as he turns in a slow circle; his eyes narrowed as he surveys the area. “Where the hell is he?”
The hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up by the time I step out into the concrete space, the soft whoosh behind me signaling the doors closing. “Something’s wrong here,” I whisper, but I don’t think he hears me.
He’s scowling, annoyed and muttering to himself over what a pain in the ass this is.
“Listen to me,” I urge, and finally he looks my way. “I don’t like this. Why would he have us meet? Why would he not come up?”
“Maybe he sent the text by accident to both of us,” he mutters, but I sense the apprehension now heavy in his voice. “Or it could be?—”
Whatever he had in mind is lost when, out of nowhere, a black van screams its way toward us, the headlights bright enough that I squint and turn my head away. I don’t have time to do anything more than jam my finger against the button, calling the elevator back. We only just got off it. It should be waiting, but the button doesn’t light up, no matter how frantically I push it. Stark horror engulfs me when I understand it’s been shut down. There’s no power going to it.
We’ve been set up.
“Get back!” Dallas barks, placing himself in front of me, his Glock drawn. I’m unarmed. A sitting duck. Completely at the mercy of whoever’s coming—not that I have to wonder. Not that I don’t already know in my heart what this is all about. Mom, what are you doing this time?
Dallas manages to get off a few shots, which only ricochet off the van, before taking hold of me and pulling me along with him behind one of the SUVs Mason uses, sitting close to the elevator. “Get back upstairs!” he shouts to me over the squeal of tires and brakes that seem much louder thanks to the unforgiving concrete. “I’ll give you cover. But make it fast!”
“Negative—elevator’s down,” I bark. “I don’t know if I can make it to the stairs!”
“I’ll cover you!” he insists, throwing himself over me at the sound of gunfire ringing through the space, loud enough to make my ears ring.
Can I make it? Peering through the windows, I see half a dozen black-clad men pour from the van once the door slides open. Two of them carry pistols, and I can’t imagine the others are unarmed. I can’t leave him like this.
“I said move!” Dallas is crouched close to the rear passenger side of the SUV, taking a few shots before ducking again. “You need to go!”
