Hot-Blooded (15 page)

His mysterious beauty had been inside for an hour with two Hawaiian guys. One was tall with dreadlocks halfway down his back. The other was thicker and shirtless with short, spiked hair. A tribal shark tattoo whose tail ended at his elbow lunged up his neck, baring sharp teeth. Both of them looked rough and tumble, but the shark dude was
not
one to fuck with. His arm, shoulder, and chest muscles rolled like a lazy lion’s as he walked. Ex-military, maybe. Deadly, definitely.

The company Kea kept rivaled his own.

A customer entered the shop, and a few minutes later, the party broke up. Shark Boy stalked out first, hopped on a motorcycle, and sped away. Dreadlocks exited shortly after and took off in a black Mustang. Blake wrote down both license plate numbers on his phone.

Curiosity piqued, Blake tossed his empty food wrappers into the trash. He nursed his drink for a few more minutes. Bane pulled into the parking lot. Right after he went in, Kea and the customer came out with surfboards. The guy was a douchey tourist with clean-cut, short hair and a spray-on tan. As they headed toward the beach, he ogled Kea’s boobs when she wasn’t looking. Total skeever.

Blake pitched his empty drink cup, checked the security of the hunting knife hidden in his backpack, and ground his teeth as he followed them at a distance. The man “accidentally” knocked into Kea a few times as they navigated the sand. If Blake hadn’t pulled the same bullshit moves with her a few days ago, he might have been impressed by the guy’s flair for flirtation. As it was, Blake kinda wanted to carve a big “B” into the guy’s chest, strap some bricks to his feet, and shove him off his board where the sea floor dropped off.

As they paddled into the blue, Blake settled on the sand and lifted his binoculars to observe from a distance. The two of them splashed. They laughed. They talked. Kea playfully pushed him away when his hand brushed the back of her leg.

He shook his head and lowered the binoculars. “Fuck it, Murphy. She’s just a job.”

She might’ve been a job, but she certainly wasn’t his usual. Blake killed for money, and his prey always deserved it. If Scott added her to his shit list … Well, he wasn’t sure he could fairly judge her guilt or innocence.

No need to worry about that until it happened.
If
it happened.

Muscles tightening like a vise around his ribs, he curled his lip as Kea demonstrated how to jump on to the board. Even from a distance, the guy’s infatuation was obvious. Not that Blake could blame him, but …

He redirected his focus to work. Kea’s customer seemed just that. A guy looking for surfing lessons. The two Hawaiians at the shop earlier didn’t fit the tourist bill. Maybe they were some of her dealers. Shit, he should’ve followed one of them instead of her. They might’ve led him to something relevant like the location of their farm or other contacts.

If Kea showed at the hotel in a few hours, he’d use his powers of persuasion to drag some info out of her. Following her around like a lost puppy was for the birds.

Just a job.

* * * *

Three o’clock came and went. Four o’clock approached. Blake lay staring at the ceiling and tossed his cigar nub into the empty soda can on the table beside him. He’d been certain she’d join him after their meeting at the surf shop yesterday. Maybe he misjudged her.

Or maybe she had another appointment. The thought of her banging her surfing client from this morning burned a hole through the back of his head. His vivid imagination taunted him with images of her screaming the guy’s name as he took her from behind.

He stared down at his erection begging for attention. “She ain’t coming, buddy. It’s just you and me.” Picturing Kea’s naked body pressed to the glass, he shoved his shorts past his hips and stroked for a few beats. At least she was good for getting him off even when she wasn’t around, though he was more than irritated she didn’t show.

Three raps on the door sent him stuffing his junk back in his shorts and bounding off the bed to stare through the peephole. Kea looked casually down the hall. Big sun hat. Hair twisted up underneath its wide brim. Sunglasses.

When he opened the door, he didn’t even try covering the obnoxious hard-on testing the strength of his fly. The blatant visual warning announcing his aroused state would save them time. Her chin angled downward. She noticed the bulge. A smile snuck across her lips. “Miss me?”

“Actually, I was fantasizing about my ex-fiancée,” he lied. Cock softening at the memory of Candy or whatever her name was, he grabbed Kea’s hand and dragged her into the room. He slammed the lock into place behind her.

She flung her bag to the bed, tossed off her hat, and slid her arms around his shoulders. “Tell me about her.” A quick press of warm breasts into his bare chest and a hip nudge was all it took to rejuvenate the horny little bastard.

“Big tits. Long legs. Round ass.” He kneaded her butt cheeks and ground against her in slow circles.

He spun her around and bent her over the side of the bed. Easing his hands down the back of her shorts, he continued close to her ear. “But not as hot as you, baby.”

He squeezed her flesh, unbuttoned her fly, and shoved the bundle of annoying clothing to her ankles. God, she had a perfect butt. He planted his palm in the center of her back and forced her face-first to the bed. Then he worshipped her bronzed body with his tongue, starting at her neck and ending at her tailbone. He bit the left cheek hard enough to leave a mark, and she squealed.

She reared, lifted her shirt, and tugged it off. Then she dropped to the mattress and rolled over. His heart skipped a beat. A nasty bruise peeked out from the bikini top underneath. Who the hell did this to her? He shoved the spandex aside, tweaked her nipple, and pulled it. Hard. “You been doing other guys without me? Very disappointed, Kea.”

Her breath caught as he groped her breast. She watched him closely, maybe waiting for him to make a wrong move. When he let go, she untied the bikini strings and lifted her arms above her head in a revealing, sensual pose.
Take me. I’m yours.

Somehow, he doubted it.

“This little battle scar?” She glanced at her breast and rubbed the bluish purple spot. “Your buddy Butch did that.” She arched a brow and snared him with her direct, accusing gaze. Damn. No wonder she killed him. “Jealous?”

“Insanely.” He cut his cock loose from his shorts with a quick unzip but didn’t bother to take anything off. Didn’t have time. Had to fuck now.

Wielding his shaft like a knife, he spit into his free hand, lubed up, and stabbed her between the legs. Pulled out. Lunged again. She was so wet, she didn’t even flinch. Just dipped her head back and stretched like a lazy cat. Her fingers curled around a clump of linens, and she purred from deep within her throat as she nuzzled the pillow.

“You feel so good.” Full breasts bouncing, she weathered a few more thrusts, each rougher than the last. He’d do her so hard, she’d taste him from the inside.

After a few minutes, he changed up his rhythm, alternating between heavy and light strokes. She emerged from her dick-drunk state and narrowed her glassy greens on him. She pulled him out and shoved him onto his back. On hands and knees, she devoured his shaft like she hadn’t eaten in days.

Staring up at him as she feasted, she swirled her tongue around the bulging veins, grabbed his nuts, and twisted them. He sucked in a hard breath. His ass cheeks clenched, and his fight-or-flight reflex kicked in. Frozen with indecision for a split second, he waited for his brain to catch up to his body, and then followed his gut’s lead. Instead of pushing her off, he filled her mouth with harder thrusts as she squeezed his balls to the popping point.

“Damn it, Kea. Goddamn it …” Just as his man plumbing was on the verge of opening the pipe and unloading a flood down her throat, she grasped the entire package—painfully erect cock and two swollen balls—and held his orgasm off at the pass.

“Bitch,” he seethed between clenched teeth. He sat up straight and wrestled his nuts away from her.

Two palms plowed into his abs, knocking him back down. She straddled his shoulders and smiled at him. “Now it’s your turn.”

She smothered his face with her well-fucked pussy, and he let her drown him. Grasping the thighs that held him hostage on either side, he stared at her pleased expression as he tongued her. He nipped her folds. Flicked her clit. Made out with her lips. The harder he sucked, the wetter she got. Her breasts bounced as she rode the saddle of his mouth and ground deeper with each thrust of tongue. Guiding her, he smeared the slick essence all over his face, scratching her sensitive flesh with his short whiskers.

Without warning, she lifted up, taking his meal with her. She panted and rolled to the side. After fumbling around in her discarded purse, she mounted his legs, resting her butt on his thighs. He grinned down at the mess they’d made so far. When he looked up, she choked his cock with one hand and pointed a gun to his chest with the other.

The heat drained from his face. “What the—”

Trapped between a layer of fear and icy memories of Jonathan Williams lying dead on the pavement, his brain shorted out while his body remained in suspended animation.

No guns. No motherfucking guns. Not now. Not ever …

She fed her pussy a full serving of cock, which had somehow gotten harder, thanks to the terror flowing unchallenged through his system. The centrifugal force from his spinning brain slung his control to the edge of unconsciousness.

With her free hand, she pressed three fingers to her nub and rubbed in slow circles. Her grip on the gun tightened as she redirected the muzzle to his temple. Lanced to the hilt on his throbbing dick, she leaned closer. “Now go slow, motherfucker.”

Crazy bitch wanted to fuck him at gunpoint? No way. He squeezed his eyes shut for a couple seconds to regain traction on the impending nervous system failure.
Pull your shit together. Wake up and get with the program before she cancels your membership permanently.

“Kea—”

She rose a few inches and plunged down without warning. Holy Christ Jesus and all the bastard saints.

“Oh. My. God.” A guttural rumble emanated from a primal sanctuary hidden deep inside her. Her long, black hair swung as she rode him. She demanded he go faster, threatening him with the gun and slapping his chest. Unnatural darkness overtook her face. “Harder, motherfucker. Harder!”

With nothing to do but oblige, he pumped with all his might. Fueled by a deadly concoction of adrenaline-spiked terror and dumbstruck lust, he did something he
never
did: he stopped fighting, gave up control, and submitted. To everything.

Her ass bounced on his twitching thighs, pounding the muscles. There would be plenty of bruises later to commemorate their time together.

The more she yelled and swore and beat him, the harder and angrier he got. The gun pissed him off, scared the ever-living shit out of him, and at the same time, kicked up his desire to an ungodly threshold. He couldn’t stop staring at it, wondering when her finger would slip and snuff the life out of him. She tapped the weapon under his chin and used it to lure his gaze to hers. He held on tight to those green pools, begging her not to let him down. She slowed, lowered the gun to her pussy, and rubbed herself with it as he impaled her.

He came undone.

“You have the dirtiest, hardest cock I’ve ever fucked.” Her eyes fuzzed out, lips parted, and she groaned. Nipples tight as pebbles, she shuddered through the orgasm. Muscles flexed, sinew twisted, and hips jerked and rolled. With renewed vigor, Blake punched deeper.

He grabbed her face and squeezed. “You’re not done yet, bitch. Take that cock, Kea.” He treated her to a series of violent thrusts. “Lemme see you come again.”

She grinned and continued pleasuring herself with the gun like some kind of fucked-up, hard-core dildo. The pants issuing from her mouth increased. Her brows tightened as if in agony, but she was no more in pain than he. “No. God, no. Make it stop. Please make it stop, Blake.”

He couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. “Not yet. Not until you come.” His hips had a mind of their own. He smacked her breast—one, two, three, four times. She wildly hit him back.

“You’re killing me, baby.” Her smile assured him he was giving her exactly what she wanted.

He smiled too, hips still slamming between her splayed legs like a piston. Her lips parted, ecstasy kidnapped her face, and her eyes rolled back. Her body stiffened as she tossed the weapon and clutched the sheets on either side of him into two white balls. Muscles strained, skin reddened, her scent bloomed.

Expelling her held breath, she fell across his chest and rode out the last few ripples of the wave. Thank God she was done, because Blake almost came with her, and he had other plans for where to make his deposit.

With a sudden onslaught of sex-induced, superhuman strength, he fucked her onto her back. The aching slide of release across the lip of a massive endorphin curl started off slow but built quickly in intensity. Like their surf session on the beach the other day, he hopped the wave and coaxed a supersized serving of cream onto her swollen red breasts.

She palmed his balls as the fifth shot hit a nipple and then jerked her wrist with a twist that knocked his head backward. He came some more. When the rainstorm ended and the puddle overflowed her chest, dripping down the sides of her ribs, he dragged his dick through the mess and painted her stomach with random lines.

Her expression softened, and she laughed. Not in the condescending way she often had, but with warmth. Maybe contentment. She grabbed him by the ears and urged his lips to hers. Hints of salty sweat laced the edges of their kiss. The grassy scent of his deposit glued their chests together.

“I like fucking you.” She grinned.

Hell, he liked it too. But there was the small matter of the gun, which he couldn’t let slide, in spite of the amazing orgasm. This was a hard limit, and she crossed it. Now that they were finished, he had to address the issue.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He slipped a hand between them and fingered her while thumbing her clit. Still wet. Why did she have to be such a fucking psycho? Her legs parted further, giving him unlimited access. She rocked slowly to his rhythm.