He felt callous. A first-rate ass. But he was lost in the feel of her and helpless to do anything but drive. He withdrew and thrust. He strained up on the balls of his feet in an effort to get deeper.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he gritted out.
Even as he said it, he hoped to hell he wasn’t, because he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stop.
Her fingers cut into his skin and her breaths left her lips in soft little bursts.
“No. Don’t stop.”
Her breasts shook with each thrust, and his hands left the edge of the counter to cup the supple mounds. His thumbs brushed the tips in rapid strokes to mimic the motion of his hips.
Fire centered in his groin, balled in a painful knot and then exploded outward into his gut and to his balls. His release lurked, menacing in its power, and he stopped, wanting to prolong the moment.
He rested against her, his sac pressed against her ass, his dick completely encased in her heat. She twitched and pulsed around him and she twisted restlessly, telling him without words that she needed more.
“Hold on to me, baby. I can’t wait any longer. You feel so good.”
He withdrew, and the ache intensified as she rippled across his length. He pushed forward again, taking care even as his mind screamed at him to take her as hard and as rough as he could.
He reined in that urge and sank deep, then stood motionless before repeating the act all over again. His release drew his balls up, so tight it hurt, and when he plunged deep again, it shot up his cock. He spilled hot and liquid even as his hips jerked spasmodically against her.
He dropped his hand down her body, let it slide over the tight ball of her stomach and then dipped between them through the soft curls until he found the tiny nub of flesh between her folds.
She gasped, arched up, and he pressed in, rotating in a tight circle until he felt her flutter around his cock. He thrust one last time and she cried out. Her hands fell from his shoulders and she gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles going white.
He rolled his thumb over her clit and she went liquid around him. He continued to slide back and forth, until finally he slipped from the welcoming grasp of her body. He stood, trying to squeeze air into his tortured lungs. His knees shook and he’d never felt so limber, so completely satisfied, in his life.
He leaned forward, gathered her in his arms and rested his forehead against hers as they both struggled for breath.
Her soft blue gaze found his, and she smiled, a gesture he felt to his toes.
“Well, it was almost a closet.”
He laughed and kissed her and wondered not for the first time how he could ever stand to let her go.
CHAPTER 19
“THIS blows,” Rusty complained as she stared at the television set in boredom.
Marlene Kelly gave her one of those enduring motherly looks that suggested she didn’t appreciate Rusty’s assessment.
Frank made a grunt from his seat in the recliner and rubbed a hand over his chest. “You’ll make this a lot easier if you keep a decent attitude, young lady.”
Rusty nearly groaned. She hated the young lady bit. Frank pulled it out only when he was calling her down about something, and it made her feel about two inches tall. Amazing how he could do that without ever raising his voice.
She and the “parents” had been herded into some podunk little house several miles away from Dover, all in the name of safety, and here they sat twiddling their thumbs like morons while Sam and company were off saving the world, or at least the chick Sam had been dumb enough to knock up.
Donovan was out playing superhero with Rio and company. Maybe they’d do something cool like plant explosives to keep the bad dudes away.
“If it weren’t for missing school, this would double blow,” she muttered. “At least the eye candy isn’t bad.”
Frank rolled his eyes and looked over at Marlene. “You see, this is why we didn’t have girls. They’re all hormonally deranged.”
Rusty grinned. “I just call it like I see it.”
Frank rubbed absently at his chest and grimaced. He shifted in his seat but never moved his palm.
“Frank, is something wrong?” Marlene asked in a worried tone.
“Nah, just a case of indigestion. I wonder if they have any antacids around here. Place seems stocked well enough.”
Rusty snorted, but she got up from the couch and headed toward the kitchen. Well stocked? Well stocked would be having something to do in this godforsaken place. They didn’t even have cable TV, so they were stuck watching two of the major networks, and she hated sitcoms.
She rummaged around in the cabinets but didn’t find anything that resembled antacid. She did find some ibuprofen, so she shook out a few of the pills and poured a glass of milk from the fridge.
She returned to the living room and handed Frank the glass of milk.
“No antacid, but isn’t milk supposed to help? I got you some pain stuff. Maybe that’ll work.”
Frank smiled and took the medicine from her outstretched palm. “Thank you, Rusty. I’m sure this will do the trick.”
She shrugged and headed back to the couch to sit next to Marlene.
Family sitcoms were the worst. Watching dysfunctional people trying to be funny while appearing all happy happy was worse than watching paint dry. She knew all about dysfunction, and it didn’t go hand in hand with happy or funny.
She sighed and tuned out the laughs of the studio audience and wondered how long it took to save the world. A few days? Weeks? She’d ask Marlene how long, but it would only earn her another one of those motherly looks that made her cringe.
She turned when she heard Frank move. He sat forward in his chair, holding his arm. He looked pale and strained and he huffed for breath.
Alarmed, she glanced at Marlene, to see her staring at Frank as well.
“Frank,” Marlene said sharply. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Marlene. I just need to get up and move around. Feels like a damn elephant is sitting on my chest.”
He struggled to his feet and for a moment stood stock-still before he swayed. With a groan, he pitched forward and hit the floor with a thud.
Panic hit Rusty like a ton of bricks. She surged to her feet and screamed for Rio and Donovan at the top of her lungs.
Marlene threw herself onto the floor beside Frank at the same time Rusty scrambled over the coffee table to kneel beside him.
“Is he breathing?” Rusty asked fearfully. “Oh my God, is he dead?”
Before Marlene could respond, Rusty leaned her ear down to his chest, feeling for any movement. She reached a hand up to his neck. You were supposed to feel for a pulse, right?
He wasn’t moving. God, he wasn’t breathing. She didn’t think his chest was moving at all. She couldn’t feel a pulse, but her hands were shaking so bad that she doubted she could have felt one anyway.
Rio and Donovan burst into the room, one of the other men tailing them. They all had their guns up, but when they saw Frank on the floor and the two women surrounding him, they tossed the guns aside and rushed over.
Donovan shoved Rusty out of the way and immediately checked for breathing and a pulse. Rio bent next to him and tore open Frank’s shirt at the chest.
“He’s n-not breathing,” Rusty said.
Rio’s gaze found hers for just a moment, and she saw steady reassurance there. Then he doubled his hands and positioned them over Frank’s heart. Face drawn and pale, Donovan tilted Frank’s neck back, then leaned down and began mouth-to-mouth.
Marlene was on her knees, her face so white that it scared Rusty. She looked like she was in shock, and worse, there was such fear in her eyes that it hit Rusty in the gut like a punch.