Harris (Alpha One Security #1) (2 page)

“Assault rifle,” he corrected. “Just making sure,” he added.

He took a step toward me, his jade-green eyes blazing. He was prowling, that slow, sleek, predatory way he had, like a puma stalking through the grass. I held my ground, letting him come to me. His gaze raked over me, top to bottom, twice. And then fixed on my tits, visible in glimpses through the brass of the shells. Down to my core, also just barely but not quite covered by the bandoliers. And then to the M4 in my hands.

“That’s the one from the wall, right?” he stated more than asked.

I nodded. “Yep. Figured it only counted as fulfilling your fantasy if I was carrying your special
assault rifle
.” I emphasized the correct term.

“My fantasy?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember? São Paulo? The car chase? You told me you had a fantasy involving me in nothing but a bandolier, with your M4.” I swept a hand at myself in a Vanna White style gesture. “Well, here it is, me, naked, in a bandolier of bullets, holding your own very special M4.”

Nick hands flexed, tightened, released. Now he was within arm’s reach, but he still hadn’t touched me. He was just staring at me, as if memorizing the sight of me like this. Cold as I was, I let him look. This was about fulfilling a fantasy, after all.
 

He must have noticed me shivering. “Cold?”

I shrugged. “A little. It is April, and I am outside naked.” I let my desire burn in my eyes. “Can you warm me up?”
 

“I might be able to.” He reached past me and pushed a button on the wall beside the open doorway, and a motor hummed quietly, sliding the twenty-foot tall doors closed. When the doors were shut, lights flickered on automatically, bright LEDs suspended from industrial hanging fixtures.
 

He moved back a step. “Go sit on the wing of the plane.”
 

I did as he asked, propping my ass against the cold metal of the lower wing, rearranging the bandoliers for optimal visual affect. Instead of coming closer, though, he stayed where he was, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and took several photos of me from various angles. Fine by me; I knew he was the only one who would ever see them, so let him have photographic evidence.

Besides, this was fun, drawing it out.
 

I removed a layer of bandoliers, and struck a different pose. Another layer, another pose. Yet another layer, and now there was only one bandolier, which I hung around my neck. It covered nothing, so I was completely bare for his perusal. And peruse he did, both with his eyes and his cell phone camera.
 

Finally, I knew he’d taken enough photographs because he tossed the phone into the open cockpit.
 

“What else did your fantasy involve, Nick?” I asked in my best sultry voice.
 

He took the gun from my hands—yes, I know it’s a
rifle
rather than gun, but I’m a girl, and guns are guns—and set it aside, leaning it butt-down against the side of the airplane.
 

“Well, in the original fantasy, you kept all the bandoliers on and sucked me off wearing them. And then I returned the favor, and then we fucked. Although usually I didn’t get as far as us fucking before I blew my load.” He gestured at me. “But I think I like this version better.”

“I can put them back on,” I said, reaching for the pile on the floor at my feet.

He grabbed me by the wrist, stopping me. “No, like I said, I like this better. I can see more of you.”
 

I sank to my knees. “In that case, let’s make the rest of the fantasy a reality.”

Staring up at him, I unbuttoned the fly of his jeans. Unzipped him slowly. Tight black CK briefs, huge bulge behind the stretchy, slinky material. I tugged the elastic waistband down to bare his cock, which sprung free in front of my face. One hand went to that lovely organ of his, stroking slowly, gently, and the other untied his combat boots, sliding them off his feet one by one, leaving his socks on because sex in socks is funny. I mean, think about it: a dude, no matter how hot, is just inherently funnier if he’s wearing nothing but a pair of socks. Bonus-funny if they’re white, and knee high, like Nick’s were. He stepped out of his jeans, and then his underwear, and then thank god, Nick was naked for me.
 

“Tell me,” I said, teasing the tip of his cock with my lips, “how exactly did I suck your cock? Slowly? Quickly? Did I swallow? Or did I take it on my tits?”

“Fuck—” Nick swallowed hard, took a deep breath and sighed it out. “You’re killing me, Layla.”
 

I took him into my mouth, just a little bit. A short, light suckle, and then backed off. Kept my eyes on his. “Well? You’re gonna have to talk me through this, Nick-baby. Tell me what to do.”
 

He buried his fingers in my hair, pulled me toward his body. “Take it into your mouth. Take it deep and slow.”
 

I stroked the hard globe of his ass with my hands and plunged my mouth down on his erection. He groaned as I took him deep. Deeper. I opened my throat and took him all the way, until my nose nudged his belly. He was fucking enormous, both long and thick, so there was a lot of cock to swallow. My eyes watered, and by the time I backed away, I was breathing hard through my nose. But Nick? His chest was rising and falling hard, his fists bunched in my hair.
 

“Like that?” I asked.

“Just like that. Do it again. But this time do that swallowing thing with your throat.”
 

So I deep-throated him again, this time swallowing so my throat muscles rippled around his cock. I didn’t wait for instructions, now, instead backed away, letting him fall out of my mouth, a string of saliva connecting his beautiful cock to my lips. I glanced up at him, took him again, and this time gave him three long, slow, deep strokes of my mouth and throat.

“How’s that?” I asked, wrapping my hand around the head of his dick and squeezing, then caressing his length.

“God, so good.”

“Now what?”
 

“Now you massage my balls. Touch my taint. Go down on me until I make you stop.”
 

And that is exactly what I did. Cupped his heavy sack in my hand and massaged it with gentle fingers, using my other hand to press a finger against his taint, taking him into my mouth and blowing him with all the skill I possessed. I bobbed down slowly at first, and then faster, faster, and then slowly again. I pulled back, licked it from top to bottom, took him into my mouth again, stroked the base and bobbed and sucked around the head.
 

When he started to grunt and shift his hips, I stopped. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”
 

He nodded. “Yeah, babe. I’m real close.”

“Now what?”
 

He hesitated, which told me what he wanted next he wasn’t sure about, because Nick never hesitated. “Out with it, hon. What is it you want now?”
 

“It’s just a stupid fantasy I jerked off to.”
 

“You want to come on me, don’t you?” I stroked him while I spoke, keeping him going, keeping him right on the edge. “Where do you want to come? On my face? Or my tits? You want me to kneel in front of you with my mouth open like a porn star, waiting for the cum-shot?”

“Layla—” He growled my name, his abs tensing.

He was close, so close. I mouthed the tip, swirled my tongue around him, taking him deep, bobbing hard, pulling at his ass to get him to move. And move he did, fucking my throat. I let him fuck for the space of a dozen thrusts, and then I felt him falter, felt him tense again, pulling back.

“Give it to me, baby,” I said, staring up at him.
 

I sank down low, kept my eyes on him, put my mouth in front of his cock and stroked him hard and fast with both hands, switched to a hand-over-hand stroke until he was pumping into my fists, then I cupped his balls in one hand, middle finger against his taint, the other hand stroking him from root to tip, hard and slow sweeps of my fist down his length.

We’d done a lot of stuff, but he’d never come on me before, mainly because I didn’t know he wanted to. He’d never mentioned it. And actually, no one ever has.
 

“Fuck, Layla. I’m coming—Jesus fuck, I’m coming,” he grunted.

“Give it to me, Nick. Come all over me. Let me feel you all over my face.” I gazed up at him, stroking him fast now, pumping him to climax.

He tilted his head back, closed his eyes and groaned long and loud, and then, in the moment of his orgasm, he returned his eyes to mine, watching as he exploded. A thick stream of come shot out of his cock and splashed into my mouth, tasting thick and salty and smoky, splattered onto my upper lip and chin. I kept stroking, lifted up and squeezed my tits together with my arm, took another load of his sticky, warm, white seed all over the slope of my tits.
 

Nick was cursing up a storm, grunting, thrusting into my pumping hand, watching himself come on me.
 

“You like this, baby?” I asked. “You like coming on my face?”

“Fuck yeah. So hot.”
 

“Good. Because I’ve never let anyone else do that before. You’re the first, and the only.”
 

“First for me too.” He said, reaching down and pulling me up.
 

There was a rag hanging off the end of a propeller blade, which Nick snagged and used to wipe my face clean. And then, with a hungry, feral grin he wrapped his strong hands around my hips and lifted me effortlessly onto the wing of the plane. I knew what would come next, and I was eager for it. I hooked my heels over his shoulders as he knelt in front of me. He turned his cap brim around to face backward, and then tugged me down the wing so I was all but sitting on his face. I braced my hands on his shoulders, lay back against the wing, let my knees fall open, and gave myself over to his talented tongue.
 

And god, that tongue of his lashed me to a frenzy. He didn’t use his fingers at all, this time. Only his tongue. Spearing into me, flicking and flitting with the stiffened tip, licking and suckling the hard, aching, throbbing, tingling bud of my clit.
 

I reached down, stole his cap from him and stuffed it onto my head over my thick mass of black curls, pulled the brim low, leaned on my elbows so I could watch him eat me. I buried the fingers of one hand into his dark brown hair. Felt my O brimming, felt it boiling. I tucked my feet up on his shoulders and spread my knees wide, rode his face, using my palm against the back of his head to jerk him harder against my slit, gyrating madly against his lapping tongue until I lost it completely, screaming like a banshee as he licked, nipped, and flitted me to climax and beyond.

And my man, my Nick, he ate me out so good for so long that he was hard and ready for me by the time I was done. And god, was I ready.

Holy fuck, was I ready; I’m never so horny and ready to fuck hard and long as when I’m fresh on the heels of a ripping orgasm.
 

Nick stood up, gliding his palms up the back of my thighs to hold me in place, slid his erection against my slit, grinding teasing slides of his cock against my clit. I let him tease me, and then when I was done being teased, I reached between us and grabbed a handful of dick, nestled the broad, soft, plump head against my opening, and fluttered my hips, teasing him back.
 

He slid the single remaining bandolier of bullets off me, tossed it aside, and pushed into me, eliciting a long groaning sigh of bliss from me. He leaned against me, palming my breast. He licked my nipple, kissed my throat, then my chin, then my lips.

“Yum,” I said, smiling against his lips. “I love when your beard smells like my pussy.”
 

“Me too,” he murmured. “Thanks for this, by the way.”
 

“For what?” I was being driven delirious by the teasing, fluttering thrusts he was giving me, so I wasn’t exactly my sharpest at that moment.

“Making my stupid fantasy come true.”
 

“It’s not—oh god, oh fuck, I’m close again already—it’s not stupid. I like the thought of you jerking off thinking about me.” I reached down between our bodies and circled my clit with two fingers, hard and fast motions with a light, deft touch, the way I come the fastest.
 

“You know I jerk off thinking about you when I’m away, right?”

“You do?”
 

“Fuck yeah.” Nick slid a single finger against the rosebud muscle of my asshole, pressed, teased, and finally slid the tip of his finger in. “Every morning, or whenever I can. Multiple times a day, some days. Those pictures I took? That’s highest quality spank bank material right there, baby.”
 

“Next time you’re jerking off thinking about me, take pic. Or better yet, a video. Best would be if you can FaceTime me while you’re jerking it. I’d love to watch.” I was there, on the edge, keeping myself on the edge but not letting myself fall over until Nick was there. “You ready to come, baby?”

In answer, Nick pulled out and let me slide down off the wing, spun me around, pressed a hand against my head to bend me over. I assumed the position, legs spread wide—in the words of the song, face down booty up—hands braced on the wing.
 

I felt Nick press against me, fitting himself to my entrance, and then he rammed in. God, I loved it when he did that, fucked in hard without warning, knowing I’d take it, knowing I’d be ready for him. He grabbed hold of my hips and pulled me back into his thrusts, which were manic, wild, primal, grunting, pounding slams of his cock as deep into me as he could get, his hips slapping against the juicy meat of my ass. And fuck, it felt good. Especially when I put my fingers to my clit and got myself really going.
 

“Let me feel it, Nick. Give it to me.”
 

He could only grunt in reply, fucking furiously. “Take it—fucking take it, Layla. Take it all.”
 

“Oh fuck, I’m coming Nick. Come with me.”

We both ran out of words then, both of us coming, exploding in unison, orgasming in sync. Nick shouted and I screamed and we kept up the frantic pounding pace, me pushing back into him and Nick slamming in, over and over, until he started to go limp and my thighs shook.