“Please what, baby?” he groaned, his lips moving against the mound of her breast, his tongue licking over the damp skin he found. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you. You only have to ask.”
“I need to come,” she gasped, staring up at him, dazed, watching as a trail of sweat ran slowly down the side of his hard face. “Make me come, Casey. Make me come all over your cock. It’s so thick and hard inside me…” she moaned.
As though she had struck a match to fuel, Casey gave a tortured moan before he began moving harder, faster.
Thrusting, shafting inside her with hard, quick strokes, his cock shuttling in and out of the tight confines of her sex, he gave her what she begged for.
Within seconds Sheila was exploding. Tossed headlong into a rapture she couldn’t control and had no desire to rein in. It began in the very depths of her pussy, radiating outward to attack her clit as she stroked it in time to the hard strokes filling her cunt, and the brutal shudders that began tearing through her.
The little bud swelled quickly, harder, more sensitive than ever as she gave a wild, fractured moan and let it fling her into an ecstasy she was certain Casey had never given her before.
This one was brighter, hotter, it tore past her mind, completely obliterated thought or any belief that she could ever be the same once reality returned.
Because as that explosion ripped through her, it did more than fill her body with the most exquisite rapture she had ever known. It did more than simply satisfy that feminine ache as no other man had ever been able to do. As she exploded around the hard, fiery erection filling her, she felt him bury in deep once again, then felt his release tear through him as well.
She felt the hard, heavy spurts of his release filling her.
She felt his arms wrapping around her.
She felt his wide, muscular chest scraping against her nipples, his powerful thighs tightening.
She felt the white-hot center of her release tear a hole through the defenses she had built against him as well.
As his release jetted inside her, she swore she felt a part of him sink inside her soul.
He had finally possessed her.
And she knew she hadn’t managed the same with him.
She knew. And she swore she felt it breaking her heart.
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FIVE
Sheila remembered what it felt like when she was nineteen and she learned the man she thought she loved had only been using her to get to her father. That it hadn’t been her he wanted, it had been a position that her father controlled. One that, once he’d acquired it, Douglas Rutledge couldn’t take from him.
But, as her father had said, it wasn’t worth taking back. It had been worth it to know he’d wanted the job rather than the daughter. And better she’d known before Sheila had messed up her life and married the man.
At the time, she hadn’t seen it that way. She understood the reason he had tested the relationship by assigning the position before the proposal, but the knowledge that she’d been wanted for anything more than what her father could provide still managed to hurt.
She had never taken a love interest to meet her father since. Dates picked her up at her house, a small cottage a half mile from her father’s main house. She never told her father who she was seeing, or when she was seeing them.
It was easier that way.
If anyone mentioned wanting to meet her father, it spelled the end of whatever relationship they had.
She never dated anyone her father knew.
Until Casey.
But, she excused herself, she wasn’t exactly dating Casey. She was only sleeping with him, wasn’t she?
Still, she was breaking one of her own rules and she knew it.
Then she had compounded that error by falling in love with him.
Yes, she was in love with him, and she knew it.
Sitting in her car outside the bar two nights later, she knew she had made that drastic mistake. A horrendous mistake. One guaranteed to break her heart in half.
Breathing out roughly, she tested the feel of the boots she wore before opening the door of her small car and stepping out.
The hollow heel still felt a little strange.
Casey had brought her the boots the night before, claiming he felt the newly designed heel would be more secure than her purse for hiding the flash drives she carried to her father twice a week.
The tiny chamber was waterproof and it would be impossible to detect the drive using any electronic means, he assured her.
He’d acted positively protective, and for a second, just a second, she’d wondered if she had been wrong, if he felt something more for her than simply lust.
“Can’t have those drives getting lost or stolen if some yahoo decides to grab your purse.” He’d shrugged then. “I hate wasting my time.”
And her hopes had plummeted.
Dammit.
She’d thought by now he would have at least shown a few emotions besides worry over the damned flash drives.
The information on them was imperative, she knew. The tracking of terrorists, both homeland and overseas was imperative. Drug and weapons runners and any other criminal element that walked through the doors of the bar was fair game.
Every customer was photographed the second they entered and, using hidden remote cameras, additional pictures could be taken.
Who they met with, who they danced with, what they did in the parking lot. Rumors, gossip, and drunken bragging were recorded, saved, and then placed on the flash drive to be given to the captain. He then delivered it to the homeland security
