Into the Crossfire (14 page)

of the corridor.

Nicole's heart was pounding. There wasn't going to be an hour of sipping

whiskey and listening to music while she leisurely decided whether she wanted to

take the next step. Once inside his apartment, they were going straight to bed, she

could feel it.

Sex pulsed around him like an almost visible aura. As they walked, their

eyes met at the same time, then Nicole's gaze slid away. It was too intense. She

was burning up.

She could feel everything, every inch of her body. She was as aroused as

she had ever been in her life, after one kiss, the only physical contact his big hand

on her elbow.

All she could hear were her own heels, clickety clacking over the hardwood

floor, in time with her trip-hammering heart. Sam moved utterly silently, like a

huge, dark wraith.

They reached a door on the left-hand side, the side that looked out over the

ocean.

He swiped a card down a slot and put his hand on a panel by the side of the

door. The panel flashed green and slid open to reveal a keypad. Sam punched in

five numbers and with a soft whirring of precision machinery, the door slid into

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the wall.

Straight ahead was a corridor of broad light-colored maple planks opening

onto a large living area. The back wall was glass panels giving out onto a balcony,

the sea darkly purple in the distance.

Nicole stood on the threshold, suddenly unable to make a move. Sam stood

beside her, waiting.

She looked up at him, dismayed, unable to step forward, unable to go back.

Her knees shook. She was suddenly seized with an attack of nerves. Everything

about this felt new and scary.

Somehow, he understood. He was so worked up he had an erection like a

hammer in his pants, but he didn't push her over the threshold or take her elbow

and walk her through.

He didn't move.

"Welcome." The deep voice was soft as he gestured with his arm at the

open doorway. He said nothing more, simply waited for her. The unspoken

message was very clear. Stepping into his home had to be her choice.

Trembling, feeling as if she were stepping through an invisible barrier into

another life, Nicole entered.

The house smelled good--of clean textiles and lemon polish and the sea

breeze coming in from an open window, white cotton curtains billowing with the

wind coming off the ocean.

A hiss, a metallic whump behind her and the door was closed and locked.

She was in.

She was going to do this.

Oh yes.

The next second her back thumped against the door and Sam Reston's entire

weight was against her as he kissed her wildly. Not the fragile, tentative kiss in his

car. Oh no, this was as if he were trying to inhale her, while punching his skin

through hers. A deep kiss, wild, going on forever.

Oh God, his taste! Like a fresh mountain stream pumped full of male

hormones, calculated to drive any woman wild. His mouth ate at hers, coming at

her from various angles, as if one weren't enough. And it wasn't.

Her bag plopped to the floor, followed by her jacket.

Nicole could now hold him to her heart's content, though "holding" was a

bland term for what she really wanted to do--crawl into his skin, feel every inch of

that hard, delectable body, not with her fingertips but with her whole being. She

twined her arms around his neck and arched her back. His chest muscles were so

cut, she could feel them through his jacket, shirt, and her dress and bra, hard, ropy

ridges of muscle, moving against her. Nicole astonished herself by rubbing against

him, for the sheer pleasure of it, and because she was burning up and he seemed to

be the only thing that could extinguish the fire.

His penis was hot and hard and huge against her belly and she could feel

the pulses running through it against her skin. She tightened her hips, rubbing

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herself against him, and heard him moan in her mouth. Sam crouched and lifted

her with an arm across her bottom, aligning his penis with her mound. She ground

against him and the answering pulse of his penis against her made every muscle in

her body contract.

Sam growled and leaned into her even more heavily, mouth grinding

against hers, hips grinding against hers...

It was unthinkable that there be anything separating them. It was as if they

both came to that conclusion together, at the very same instant. She reached up,

swept his jacket off those broad shoulders. Her shaking fingers tugged at his tie

and before it floated to the ground, she was at his shirt buttons, freeing the round

bits of plastic from the eyeholes, pulling the tails out from his pants. She couldn't

take off his shirt because his hands were on her bottom, holding her up, so the shirt

fell off his shoulders just enough for her to feel the curly chest hairs and hard

muscles of his chest against her. It was maddening that she still had the barriers of

her dress and bra between them. She ached to feel him, hard to soft. Absorb some

of that strength and heat through her skin.

Sam's callused hands ran up her thighs, bringing the skirt of her dress up,

until he touched her panties. Her very expensive, mauve silk panties which she

expected he'd let slither down her legs, like in some perfume ad, once he let her

feet touch the floor again.

What happened next happened so fast she couldn't follow the movements.

A ripping sound, a zipping sound, rough fingers opening her up and--oh my

God!--he was in her, impossibly hard, impossibly hot, deeper than anyone had

ever been before.

They were both frozen, Sam embedded in her while she struggled to

accommodate him. She wriggled a little and he surged inside her, so deep the

sensitive tissues of her flesh could feel his wiry pubic hairs.

She was filled with sensory input. His penis, buried inside her, his two hard

hands holding her bottom, skirt now up to her waist, ruched over his arms, his hard

broad chest pinning her against the wall...

Thunk! Sam's forehead hit the wall beside her.

"Condom," he groaned, panting like a maddened bull. A muscle twitched in

his cheek. He groaned again and she felt his body stiffen, start to pull out.

No!

"Pill," she gasped and his entire body jerked.

"Oh man," he breathed. "Bareback." He pulled out slowly, went back in, an

exploratory stroke and groaned. "You feel like a glove."

"Mm." Nicole hardly had the breath to respond. He was hot inside her, her

entire lower body glowed with heat, but he wasn't moving. She understood quite

well what he was doing--giving her time to adjust to his size. No question, he had

a champ of a member there, certainly the biggest she'd ever come across. But he

needed to use it, the dummy, instead of simply waiting for her. What did he want?

A sign? She'd give him a sign.

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Nicole turned her head slightly, nose against his cheek. He smelled so

delicious. He'd clearly shaved but there was a slight bite of growing beard against

her face as she rubbed her cheek against his. Tentatively, she licked him. She'd

been wanting to do that all evening, just to see what he tasted like.

Delicious.

At the touch of her tongue, Sam jerked, but he still held himself quietly

inside her, breathing heavily. She wriggled a little and he jumped inside her, there

was no other word for it.

She'd started taking the pill several months ago upon doctor's orders, when

stress had caused her to miss several periods. She'd never taken it while sexually

active. This was the first time she felt a man's penis inside her without a latex

barrier and it was...wonderful. Intense, almost unbearably intimate.

She opened her mouth and bit him, a sharp nip along his jaw, and it

galvanized him.

His big body jerked and he started pounding in her, hard deep strokes

which were possible only because she was wet with excitement. The whole

evening had been foreplay.

His entire heavy weight was pressed against her, mouth on hers, hips

jackhammering. Not the polite, regular strokes of a first-time lover, sounding out

what the woman liked. No, these were out of control movements of a man using

his entire strength and...she loved it. He must have felt that because, impossibly,

he picked up the tempo, moving in and out of her so fast it was a miracle she didn't

go up in smoke from the friction.

It was amazing, and a degree of excitement impossible to sustain. Inside a

few minutes, Nicole froze, every muscle in lock-down, as she felt her orgasm

approaching, like a thunderstorm on the horizon. She stopped breathing, eyes

closed, totally concentrated on where he was pounding into her with hard, heavy

strokes. One particularly deep thrust and...oh! Her entire body convulsed, vagina

tightening around him, arms and legs clinging tightly, wanting to feel him as close

as possible.

Her breath came out in a low, ragged moan, stuttering in time to his sharp

thrusts, faster now and harder, until he swelled inside her and exploded.

Oh my God! She could feel the jets of semen splashing against her

supersensitive walls, a hot, rhythmic wash inside her, unlike anything she'd ever

felt before, so exciting it prolonged her orgasm. She tightened around him in an

erotic rhythm that matched the pulses of his own orgasm, the feeling so intense

she nearly blacked out.

It had been like running a marathon. Nicole's head batted back against the

wall because she didn't have the strength to keep it upright. Her arms dropped,

unable to cling to those broad shoulders anymore. Her legs were still around his

hips, but they were trembling.

Her entire groin area was wet and the smell of sex rose, sharp and earthy,

from where they were joined.

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"Oh," she breathed, unable to form anything more coherent.

"Yeah," Sam grunted. "I know. Hold on tight, honey."

What...? Oh. Sam tightened his grip on her bottom, pulled them away from

the wall and walked them through the house, still joined. He was still rock hard

inside her, as if he hadn't climaxed at all, rubbing against her incredibly sensitive

tissues as he carried her.

He was kissing her, carrying her as if she were weightless, straight into the

bedroom. There was still a little light outside and she opened her eyes enough to

get an impression of space and Spartan order, then he kissed her again and the

outside world was gone.

She had no idea how he did it, but when he eased her down on the bed, they

were both naked. He was still inside her, and now he was on top with his full

weight bearing down on her. It was so delicious, feeling his hard muscles against

hers, chest hairs rubbing against her breasts. He opened strong, hairy thighs,

opening her own legs much wider, and slid even more deeply inside her.

He nuzzled her ear with his nose, dropped light kisses all over her face and

neck. In between kisses he whispered to her.

"That was too fast, I'm really sorry. I want you to know that I do have some

moves in me, just not right now."

She barely heard him, concentrated on where they were touching, on where

he filled her. But at the word moves, her vagina contracted around him. His penis

lengthened inside her.

"That's one of them, right there," she sighed.

He laughed, a charming low male rumble. "Oh yeah."

He wasn't moving, allowing her to come back a little to herself. She

smoothed a hand over the ball of his shoulder. His skin was so hot and hard. Warm

steel. She frowned as her fingers met thick, rough skin. A scar. A round scar.

Her eyes fluttered open, only to see his an inch away. Deep, dark eyes,

staring into hers. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Is that what I think it is?" she whispered.

He gave a short, brusque nod.

"Are there any others?"

"Low on my hip, missed vital organs by a hair. Right biceps, flesh wound,

but it hurt like hell."

She touched each one as he mentioned them. The wound low down on his

hip was big, ugly, with thick ridges of scar tissue. She frowned as he kissed her.

"You had a really lousy surgeon."

He shook his head, nipped her jaw. "Field dressing. We were way out to

hell and gone. Took me a week to get back to a hospital. Navy offered plastic

surgery, but frankly, I never want to see another needle again in my life."

Nicole stroked his sides. He hadn't led a charmed life, this man. He'd

walked into danger, probably more times than he could ever tell her. A few inches

to the left or right, and he'd have bled out. She'd never have met him, never have

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realized what her body was capable of feeling.

Lifting her head a little, she kissed him, gently. As if he were still hurting

from his wounds. Sam took control of the kiss immediately, mouth open over hers,

tongue stroking hers in time with the strokes of his hips.

He began moving heavily in her, faster and faster, and she curled her hands

under his arms, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. Sam wrenched his mouth

away from hers with a gasp and buried his face in her hair and she closed her eyes

and arched her neck.

He was right. They couldn't kiss right now. It was too much.