sucked and lightly bit and tugged into his mouth with equal measures of greed and gratification.
When he pulled away to shed his clothes she helped him, frantically working the snap on his pants and lowering the zipper. He left the bed long enough to strip to the skin, dig around inside his duffel—thank God he’d brought condoms—and lay back down beside her.
“I know we talked about
God love him, he was irrepressible. And she loved it. She pushed to her knees, then threw a leg over his hips and straddled him.
“Don’t. Move,” he ground out as she settled herself over him.
“Yeah… like that’s a possibility.”
He laughed and groaned and circled her waist with his hands and held her down on him—open and vulnerable and weak with desire for him.
Holding the packet between her teeth, she ground herself against him, loving the feel of him hot and damp and thick against her. Loving the ache that built in her belly, making her wet and wanting to forget the condom and feel him move inside her, skin on skin.
He reached between them, caressed her clitoris with his thumb, and she almost came in his hand.
“Mike…” She whispered his name on a sigh. She lifted her hips and reached for him. She wanted him inside. She wanted him there now.
“Oh, no.” He gripped her waist and lifted her, then pressed a kiss against her pubic mound.
“I can’t…” She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t stop him, didn’t want to, as he lifted her higher, guided her knees above his shoulders, then buried his mouth in her heat.
It was like riding out an electrical storm, all fire flashes and lightning bolts and turbulence. She groped for the headboard, desperate to ground herself. She clamped her fingers around it and hung on as he took her through a vortex of sensation she wasn’t sure she would survive.
His tongue was relentless as he probed and plied and sucked, until she pressed her mouth against her arm to keep from screaming.
And still he licked and suckled, until the insane pleasure burst in an explosion too perfect to comprehend.
She was crying softly by the time he drew her down his body and wrapped himself around her, while she trembled and fought for a breath that wasn’t a sob.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here,” he whispered against her hair, “and guess that that was good for you.”
She weakly pounded once on his chest. “Shut up. You know you destroyed me.”
He cupped her head in his big hands and kissed her hair. “In a good way, right?”
She found the strength to push up to an elbow. “You can’t help yourself. You have to gloat, don’t you?”
He skimmed his fingertips along her shoulder. “I didn’t think you could possibly look more beautiful.” Trailed his fingers through hair that had been tangled by his hands. “Look at you.”
“And look at you,” she whispered, and dropped her gaze to the gorgeous, jutting length of his erection. Pushing to her hands and knees, she moved deliberately down the bed. “We need to do something about that.”
She knelt over him, shoved a handful of hair over her shoulder, and met his eyes. Then she took him in her mouth and showed him a few relentless tactics of her own. Tactics that had him clenching his teeth, and breaking a sweat and arching off the bed as though what she was doing to him was the beginning and the end of everything that mattered in his life.
28
Feeling humiliated and mean with it, Lawson slapped the girl across the face, then shoved her off him.
“Get out. And stop whimpering.”
She was sixteen. Skin like ivory. High, firm breasts. The brightest flower in his harem, and she had come with her mother’s blessings. Not that blessings mattered; everyone knew the rules here. He maintained absolute power. He took what he wanted. And he’d wanted her tonight. That mouth had finished him off like melting ice cream more times than he could count.
But not tonight. Tonight he lay here, flaccid and impotent and glaring at her naked ass as she gathered her clothes and scrambled for his bedroom door.
Fucking prostate.
He hated getting old. He shouldn’t feel this old; he was only sixty, for chrissake. Prime of his life. A warrior. He’d done things, seen things, made things happen. Hell, he commanded his own army—ragtag bunch of misfits that they were.
He propped the pillows behind his head, then reached for the glass of scotch sitting on his bedside table. Took a slow sip. Stupid fucks, all of them. Not a day went by that he didn’t want to clock Simmons for saying or doing something so stupid he shouldn’t be allowed to live. To a man, they actually believed the bullshit he fed them about overthrowing the government. And the women were nothing but sheep. Stupid, mindless sheep. It made him sick to be around them.
He needed Hill back to rule the camp and free him up to do what he did best: making deals and money.
He craned his neck, found the open bottle of scotch and refilled the glass, then sipped some more. They didn’t get that UWD was all a front. A way to keep Uncle focused on a backwoods anarchist group so he could continue to run his main operation without interference.
He’d picked the right horse to run with fifteen years ago. Stingray was smart. Arrogant bastard, but smart. He’d kept their dealings out of the U.S. for the most part. The Juarez deal… that was a little different. And possibly the reason he was stressed to the point of impotence.
He contemplated the amber liquid in the glass he’d rested on his chest. He didn’t like bringing their business here. Made him nervous. But this deal… this deal was big. His cut alone would net him a cool half mil. His “army” would actually come in handy—provided they could get their heads out of their asses long enough to protect the camp and the shipments.
He lifted the glass off his chest and sat up abruptly.
What this camp needed was new blood. Dan Walker struck him as a man who could provide it. Walker had an axe to grind—unlike most of the men here who simply had no place else to go.
And Walker’s wife? The photos his source had pulled off the Internet for him were impressive. A woman, not a girl. His cock stirred when he thought about her… which made him smile. Maybe if he’d called on the lovely Mrs. Walker to keep him company tonight, the outcome would have been entirely different.
What better test for them? The ultimate bow to his will? He didn’t imagine Dan would like it much. But it was early. He’d give it time. And in the meantime, he’d savor the possibility.
New blood. That’s what the Walkers brought to the table. He’d already placed a call to Hill, who had backed up Walker’s story. Barry had surprised him by going as far as suggesting he consider placing Walker in an officer’s position. His former second in command’s opinion held a lot of sway. He had a good feeling about Walker, but it was way too soon to think along those lines. So far, everything Walker had told him checked out. So it looked promising… but it was far too early to decide if he was trustworthy. He’d see how it went.
At the moment, he had bigger irons in the fire than vetting new recruits. He expected a call any day now. And he was ready. If he pulled this off, he might actually pack it in and buy that place in Fiji. Or maybe he’d go back to Thailand. The women there knew how to take care of a man.
Even an old one, he thought again with disgust when he realized he had to take a piss. Again.
Fucking prostate.
First light had broken through the thin curtains on the windows a little over an hour ago. Mike had been
