“Then let me cum.” Lifting her hips, her fingers pinching at her nipples, she rode a wave of such intense pleasure she almost lost her breath.
“Not without me, baby.” As he pulled back, one hand gripped the iron-hard length of his cock that he’d already released from his pants.
Thick, heavy veins ran over it, blood pulsing through them in a throbbing rhythm. The plum-shaped head was dark, imposing in its width, and tucking against the weeping center of her body.
“I can’t wait, Zoey.” Hard, callused fingers gripped her thighs. “I can’t wait, baby.”
She licked her lips, fighting to breathe. “Don’t wait, Doogan. Fuck me . . . Oh God, Doogan,” she cried out at the first, hard push inside her gripping depths.
The tissue convulsed, clenched around the intruder, stroking and milking the hard flesh that came to a stop only a bare few inches inside her.
“Fuck. You’re tight,” he snarled, his teeth baring, extreme pleasure tightening his face.
“Take me hard, then,” she demanded, reaching behind her again to hold on to the rim of the hood. “Give me all of you, Doogan. Show me how to fly again. Make me burn . . .”
The groan that tore from his chest came as he drew back, paused, poised at the rippling entrance as his gaze locked with hers.
“Fuck me, Doogan,” she breathed out, her juices spilling from her aching pussy to meet the wide crest of his cock. “Hard . . .”
She needed him, ached for him; she’d been dying without him.
“Hard, baby, just like you want it.”
“Doogan . . .” She tried to scream his name.
Her body bowed, hips arching, her breath stilling in her throat as he thrust inside her, still not to the hilt, but he wasn’t finished yet.
The next thrust buried him balls deep inside her, pushing past the muscles hugged tight around his shuttling flesh as he groaned her name, the sound of hoarse male pleasure rasping over her senses.
“Have mercy,” he breathed, the hard rasp pushing her higher as he began the rhythmic strokes she knew would send her exploding into rapture.
And it wouldn’t take long. She was climbing, muscles tightening, the spiraling sensations building fast, burning bright as he came over her.
One hand gripped her hip, the other curved around the mound of a breast, his lips covering the hard point of a nipple as he sucked it into his mouth. Firm, deep draws sent fingers of fiery sensation rushing straight to her vagina. The convulsive clench of her inner muscles around each hard thrust inside her dragged a groan from his throat, a cry from hers. His teeth rasped and nibbled at the tight bud; his pelvis scraped across her clit with each thrust as his cock throbbed, the head burying deep. Each stroke inside her, each slamming thrust parted sensitive tissue, caressed it, stoked the sensations burning so bright and hot inside her.
“Doogan, Doogan please,” she cried out as his arms slid beneath her legs, lifting them, pushing her knees back, his hips moving faster, harder.
Completely open to him now, the snug, clenched muscles of her pussy tightened, flexed, and in one blinding second Zoey felt the world explode around her and inside her.
She jerked in his arms, her cries echoing around her, joined by the hard, harsh growl of her name and the feel of his release spilling inside her. Hard, pulsing ejaculations shot his seed to the depths of her pussy, filling her with him and sending her racing into the fiery center of ecstasy.
—
Catching his breath took a while. Long enough that Zoey dozed beneath him, warmed by the lingering heat of the car’s motor against the metal hood and his body. Sprawled beneath him like a sexual sacrifice, all those unruly black curls spilling around her, framing her flushed, sated features.
He wanted to smile at the sight of her, but to allow that one small measure of happiness free too soon could destroy him later, if she decided his baggage was too much, his memories and his mistakes more than she could handle in the coming years. Because once he had his ring on her finger he’d be damned if he’d let her go. And he wasn’t waiting too damned long to put that ring there if she fucked up long enough to agree to it.
Easing back, he grimaced at the excess pleasure raking along the head of his cock as he pulled free of her. Her little protesting whimper assured him that same pleasure had stroked across her senses as well.
“Come on, wildcat,” he whispered, lifting her slight weight in his arms and carrying her up the stairs to the apartment.
She curled against him, her head resting against his shoulder, her arms looped around his neck, and he didn’t miss the fact that she felt as though she’d always belonged there. Right there, against his heart, held in his arms.
Entering her bedroom, he moved to the bed, placing her in the center of it and stretching out beside her. She draped herself across his chest, relaxed, drifting, he knew, in a sensual aftermath he hated to ruin.
Hated to, yet he knew if he didn’t tell her what he needed to, then he never would.
“The night we danced,” he told her softly, pressing her head to his chest when she would have lifted it. “I told you I was married. I married Eli’s sister when she told me she was carrying our child. For six years, I lived like a fucking monk. I took the vows, I kept them. The night I met you nearly broke that resolve, though. I wanted you with a hunger that nearly broke me. And I had no choice but to walk away, because you deserved so much more than a man who would have had no choice but to lie to have you.”
And he’d nearly done just that. If Jack hadn’t been watching him with that disapproving frown, if he hadn’t known Dawg Mackay would kill him and he’d break her heart and forever lose the belief in him he’d seen in her eyes, then he would have taken her.
But his wife was fucking a path through D.C., his daughter was still a baby, and he knew that keeping her if he divorced her mother would probably be impossible. He was a grown man; he’d made his bed, and he wouldn’t have his daughter pay for his need to escape that cold, hard rock he’d made for himself.
So he waited, kept track of her, watched her, ached for her from afar until Katie turned five and he’d filed for an annulment. His wife had left with her lover, Rigsby, and with Regan Doogan Moore’s help had attempted to take his daughter.
His breath caught when he told her how Katie died. He felt her tears on his chest, her silent sobs in the shudder of her shoulders.
“Less than six months later, Harley had tracked Catalina’s lover, her killer, to Cumberland; we just couldn’t figure out his identity or why he was in Kentucky. I left Harley here to find the bastard, see what he was up to.” His fingers clenched in her hair for a tortured moment. “The next thing I know, Director Bryce is on the phone telling me . . .” He had to stop, swallow past the lump in his throat. “Telling me you were in trouble and for me to get to Sam’s. And God as my witness, I had no idea Rigsby was behind it. I suspected his presence here had something to do with the weapons thefts from Fort Knox, but I had no idea anyone knew what I felt for you. And I never suspected Jack, not with his ties to the Mackays.”
Luther had filled all the blanks in. How Rigsby had known about Zoey, used her to distract Doogan and Harley while he and Jack continued to steal information on high-level military teams currently abroad on assignment. Luther Jennings was unaware how he was being used as a distraction if he was needed. Then Doogan had returned to Cumberland, his interest in Jack’s pack making the two men far too nervous.
He’d known more was going on than a threat to that pact when he’d arrived; he’d believed the threat was to Zoey, though, not the human resources information they’d found access to. He’d been distracted. That mistake had almost been a fatal one. He’d almost lost Zoey.
“I knew I loved you, Zoey,” he whispered. “I knew if I lost you too, I couldn’t live. Losing you would break me.”