Cold Day in Hell (17 page)

“That’s the way. God, you’re so fucking tight. So warm and wet … just for me.” He inserted the tip of a finger into her anal opening.

She cried out, a breathless sound of pain and pleasure. She tossed her head side-to-side as he teased the tender rosette, pushing her toward a pinnacle she wasn’t sure she’d survive. Trying to catch a full breath, she failed abysmally. “I don’t … think…” He kissed her forehead gently, almost sweetly, as he drove her body to where he wanted her to go. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

He withdrew partially then thrust. The only thing keeping her from being tossed off his body was his hands on her ass and her fingers grasping the balls of his shoulders. It was like riding a bucking bronc lying down. Each upward move of his lower body rubbed nerve endings, sending shards of pleasure throughout her entire body. With her voice strangled by the intensity of sensation, she could only gasp for breath and moan.

Then Risto stopped moving, his cock buried in her sex. His chest heaved as his breaths sawed in and out of his mouth. Under her ear she could hear his heart pounding, feel the pulse against her vaginal walls from his throbbing penis.
God, I’m so close to
coming again. What’s he waiting for? Armageddon?

His cock twitched within her and her body pulsed around him. They breathed in unison, her heart matching his speed and rhythm. It was as if they were one living organism.

“Look at me, Callie.”

She lifted her face away from his neck and gasped at the heat and possession she saw in his dark eyes. He took her mouth with a hard thrust of his tongue. After several sweeps of her mouth, he broke off the kiss and licked a trail along her jaw until he reached her ear. Sucking in the tender lobe, he began to move his hips in a circular motion, thrusting his already buried cock even farther within her.

The combination had her screaming soundlessly as a massive tsunami of pleasure took her over. He held her to him, one arm across her hips and one hand on her head. She had no choice but to ride until he was through with her. God, she never wanted him to be through with her. He’d ruined her for every other man. No one could be as in tune with her body as this man.

Risto cursed and snarled unintelligible words against her shoulder, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Then finally he shouted “Callie!” His roar of completion sounded against her ear. His upward thrusts were rapid and deep, violent, jerky. Warm moisture flooded her, his cum filling her, marking her with his scent. “Mine!” Callie angled her head to tell him of her joy at his possession. Before she could utter a word, Risto thrust his tongue inside her mouth, matching the rhythm of his hips as he rode out his climax. He groaned into her mouth as his big body shuddered and shook under her. Her vaginal muscles spasmed in response to his post-orgasmic shudders, each organ milking all the pleasure it could from the other. She moaned into his mouth, returning his breath.

Finally, he stilled his thrusting motion, his chest heaving under her as if he had run a race. He held her to him and gently rolled them over on their sides, his semi-erect cock still lodged within her. She moved to pull away from his arms, dislodging his cock.

“Stay here, baby.” He tucked her along his side, one arm under her head and one over her waist. He gently shoved her head onto his chest and rested his cheek on the top.

She sighed happily and snuggled against him, placing little kisses over his sweaty pecs and playing with his silky dark chest hair.

“You okay? Did I hurt you? Scare you?” He rubbed her back.

“Mmm, that feels good. I’m fine.” She yawned and patted his chest, daring to smooth one finger over a hard male nipple. Her move elicited a rumbling sound similar to a rough purr. Not sure what the proper post-sex protocol was, she pushed against his chest. She was sticky and wanted to clean up before going to sleep.

“You need to use the facilities?”

Well, yeah, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Hell, she was blushing just thinking about it. “Well, uh, no … maybe a little…”

“You’re thinking too much.” He pulled her to him for a deep kiss and then whispered against her lips. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.” He got up and then lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom where he gave her just enough privacy to go to the toilet before he gave her a sponge bath.

“I can do it.” She tried to grab the wash cloth from him.

“Nope, I got you sticky,” he winked at her as he smoothed the cloth over her breasts and down her stomach toward her mons, “I get to clean you up. Lover’s privilege.” He gently and thoroughly wiped between her legs and down her thighs and then around to her bottom. She had a full body flush by the time he was done. He quickly swiped the cloth over his torso and then his cock and balls. “There, that should hold us until a shower later this morning. Right now you need sleep.” He pulled her back up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. “You’re sleeping with me just in case you hadn’t realized it.” He laid her down and then climbed into bed with her, pulling her into his side. “Rest against me.”

“Okay.” She settled her head back onto his chest. She rubbed her cheek over his tanned skin and inhaled. He smelled … right. She was happy, replete—and proud. She’d satisfied this man with her body despite her relative inexperience. And, wow, had he satisfied her. Multiple orgasms and so much pleasure she was surprised she hadn’t spontaneously combusted. She closed her eyes and snuggled into Risto’s furnace-like warmth as he pulled the covers over them. His hand immediately returned to hold her tightly against him.

As she drifted on a warm dark cloud of lingering pleasure into sleep, lips brushed her ear with one last order, “Sleep, sweetheart.”

* * * *

Boneless in sleep, Callie’s long legs tangled with his; her bent knee rested against satisfied cock, soft for the first time since he met Callie. He ruffled his fingers through her tangled curls, then smoothed the hair over her naked back. She sniffed, then murmured something against his skin. His cock jerked at the movement of her lips right above his nipple. While his body gave an indication it would be up for another round of sex, Callie was exhausted and needed her sleep. Today would be just as rough as yesterday.

God, the way she made him feel was unlike any other woman he’d ever been with.

He’d never come so hard and so quickly by just entering a woman’s pussy. He’d never recovered that quickly. He was always in control, but this time, his own games had sabotaged him. No, he needed to be honest, it was all her. She responded beautifully as if she were made for him. Just the thought of another man tasting her, taking her, sharing her orgasms, made him crazy. She filled a hole in him he hadn’t even realized existed.

Mine.
Fuck, no, he couldn’t think that way. She wasn’t his. This was only temporary.

Yours,
a voice inside his head insisted.

Shutting out the taunting voice, he turned toward Callie and found a position which would allow him to continue to hold her and catch some much needed sleep. As he settled into the mattress, Callie’s body adjusted so she touched him all along his torso.

She sighed and her lips brushed his skin as she snuggled her nose into his clavicle, the top of her head just under his chin. He refused to think about how well she fit within his arms or he’d want to take her again. Dawn was a couple of hours away, and they needed to get some rest so they could handle whatever the day might bring.

With her light, feminine scent surrounding him, he closed his eyes. He rubbed soothing circles on her back as he drifted to sleep. He didn’t know if he was calming her or himself. All he knew was he needed this closeness, something he’d never shared with any other woman in his life.
Mine—for now.

Chapter Nine

Rescue Day 2, Cartagena then to somewhere outside of Montería.

Callie entered the kitchen. Risto, Conn and Berto stood up. All of them stared at her, concern the predominant emotion on the men’s faces. Risto’s gaze also held lingering heat. She blushed. She couldn’t help it. The memories of their lovemaking last night and then again when he’d joined her in the shower this morning were all she could see when she looked at him. She stopped and self-consciously rubbed her damp palms on her jean-covered thighs. “Hi.”

Risto came to her, placing his arm around her waist, then lifted her to a stool at the kitchen island. He tucked some errant hair behind her ears, his fingers lingering to caress her face. “How are you feeling?”

Stiff. Sore in places she hadn’t been sore in … well, ever. Her cheeks heated up even more. His eyes crinkled with silent laughter. “I’m fine.” He brushed a kiss over her lips. “You’re more than fine.” He stepped away and sat on the stool next to hers. “Berto is cooking. What do you want for breakfast?” She wrinkled her nose. She was starving. Sex burned a lot of calories, well, at least, the way Risto performed sex it did. “Depends. When will we get a chance to eat again?”

“Around noon. We’re only travelling a little southwest of Cartagena to a
finca
outside of Montería. The roads are mostly good since we’ll be taking the main highway.”

“We’re going to a ranch?” She’d thought they’d head to the Andean foothills and some place in the middle of nowhere.

“Yeah. It’s a working cattle ranch. Great cover for men coming and going.” Risto bumped her shoulder with his. “Now, tell Chef Berto what you want to eat.” Berto smiled and winked. She smiled back. “Whatcha got?”

“Traditional American or local?” He flipped the spatula he held. “Risto is getting my
huevos pericos
.” At her raised brow, he added, “Eggs scrambled with onions and tomatoes.”

“That sounds good. Could you add cheese?”

Berto nodded. “For you
, bonita
, anything. Cheddar okay?”

“Sounds great.” She picked up a warm corn tortilla from a towel-covered basket, folded it in half and took a bite. “Oh, yum. These are good. Did you make them, Berto?” The Colombian looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Yes, my mother taught all her sons to cook.”

Conn sat on the other side of the island. He looked her over, his gaze touching her bare arms then her head. “You have a cover up? Something for your head? The sun will be brutal today, even through the tinted windows of the Land Rover.”

“I’ve got one of Risto’s button-down shirts to go over this tank and a hat.” She took another bite of the tortilla. “I need to either put my hair up or braid it. It will be too hot and heavy in this weather to hang on my neck.” She pulled up a length of hair that covered her breasts and flipped it back over her shoulder. “Now that I’m not required to keep it a certain length for my cosmetic and shampoo ads, I may just cut it all off.” Three loud “no’s” rang throughout the spacious kitchen/hearth room. Risto turned toward her and glared. “That would be drastic, considering you don’t live in a tropical climate year-round. We’ll find something to put it up with.” He stroked a hand over her hair. She shivered at his possessive touch, at the lustful way he eyed her hair. Something told her she’d have a battle on her hands if she attempted to cut her hair right this minute.

But, hell, he didn’t have to wash and dry and deal with the damn stuff.

“I agree with Risto,” Conn said. “It takes forever to get that kind of length. One of my sisters cut hers and regretted it the minute after she did it.” He came around the island. “If it’s okay with Risto, I can French braid it for you. I used to do my sisters’ hair all the time.”

“Why does he have any—”

Risto cut her off, a finger on her lips. He skewered his friend with a narrowed gaze.

“Braid it. But, Conn, if you touch anything other than her hair, you’ll lose some fingers.” Callie pushed Risto’s fingers away. “You have no say in this matter.” She looked at Conn. “Thank you. I’ve never gotten the hang of French-braiding so please do. It will be cooler and out of the way.”

Conn chuckled. “If you think he has no say, sweet cheeks, then you don’t know the man very well.” He pulled a stool behind hers and began to divide her hair into the sections needed to do the braid. “Do you want me to braid it in more of an up-do or just a tail? And do you have anything to tie it off with?”

She twisted to look at Conn. “You can do an up-do?” Her awe at his expertise had to show on her face because he chuckled and nodded. “Heck, we’d need some pins for that,” she frowned, “that’s too much trouble. Just a braid. We can use any piece of cloth or string.”

Conn nodded. She turned back to find Berto had placed her meal and a glass of juice in front of her. She was intensely aware that Risto’s gaze strayed to Conn’s surprisingly agile fingers every few seconds. When one of Conn’s fingers stroked the nape of her neck, Risto muttered, “fucking asshole.” Conn’s snort of amusement rustled over her hair.

“Risto, behave.” She concentrated on eating and keeping her eyes forward. Nothing was worse than a crooked French braid because the recipient hadn’t sat still. Berto caught her gaze and winked. “The food is delicious, Berto. My compliments to you—and your mother for teaching you. Did you use any special herbs in the tomatoes or onions?

There’s something extra here.”

Before Berto could answer, Conn spoke, “Berto, find me a string or something to tie this off with.”

A hair tie flew past her head. At her questioning glance, Berto smiled. “I use them on my hair. It is a clean one,” he assured her.