Full Throttle(79)
The move revealed his lovely Adam’s apple and the thickness of his carotid arteries beating heavily with excitement. She couldn’t help herself. She took a small, nipping bite of his toned, tan neck while simultaneously forcing his thick, solid length deeper inside her. All the way. Until she was impaled. Until she was full. Until she was stretched to the absolute limit.
“Cristo!” he grunted, grabbing her hips at the same time he reclaimed her mouth, sucking her tongue between his lips. Then, as if he could only allow her the freedom of control for so long, he ground her against him, forcing her hips back and forth, sliding himself deep and hard, rubbing her clitoris into an aching frenzy. “Ride me, Abby,” he groaned. “Ride me until I come deep inside you.”
She did as instructed. And all the while, tears leaked from her eyes because the world was a terrible place, because her people were dead, because this was it. It was all over. This was the last time she’d be with Carlos and—
Like a shot, she crested the peak and was instantly flung over the edge. She cried out from the intense, soul-shaking pleasure shooting through her body and from the heavy, heartbreaking sorrow squeezing her heart. With a grunt of victory, Carlos followed her into the abyss, pouring himself into her, sealing them together one final time.
And then, moments later, just as they were catching their breath, just as the last tremors of completion rippled through the place where they remained joined, the rain stopped as it had started…in an instant.
Chapter Nineteen
Penni listened with half an ear to the low drawl—uh, Dan had said the guy’s name was Rock, right?—sounding through the speakers of the iPhone. It still sat atop the little table inside the storage-closet-turned-interrogation-chamber. And, yes indeedie. She knew she should be paying attention to the information he was giving them with not only a whole ear, but both ears. Unfortunately, she was too distracted—and mortified—by her recent behavior in the ladies’ room, not to mention the seven huge, handsome…eight if you counted Dan, which she totally did…soldiers occupying the tight space with her.
The place was awash with the smells of spent aviation fuel, various aftershaves, and healthy, hulking males. And she thought maybe, if she tilted her head just so and squinted her eyes a tiny bit, she might actually be able to see the testosterone floating around in the dense, humid air.
If it was like walking around in a testicle before, then this is like—
“…Irdina says she saw the hotel’s security director talking to the same Jemaah Islamiyah militant who offered to give her the money for Jaya’s treatments,” Rock said. And, okay, so that got her attention. And as another Rock, a far more famous Rock, was wont to say, she could totally smell what he was cooking.
Dan could too, if the fierce frown on his face was anything to go by. “And surprise, surprise. The asswipe called in sick today.”
“He’s probably on the next flight to Dubai,” the tall, sandy-haired SEAL named Leo surmised. “If he hasn’t already fled to another non-extradition treaty country, that is,” he added in a drawn-out drawl, his brownish-blond beard twitching with the movement of his heavy jaw muscles as he vigorously chewed on a piece of gum.
“And FYI,” Rock’s smooth Cajun-country accent sounded again through the phone’s speaker. “We lost Steady’s signal a while ago. The jungle canopy and a crap-ton of cloud cover over the region created too much interference, and the satellite couldn’t compensate. It happens. We weren’t all that worried initially. But the storm passed, and we’ve been able to pick up his signal again. It’s showing he’s hell and gone off the logging road. He seems to be on foot and currently near some sort of small clearing. Our best guess given the sat imagery is it’s a native village of some sort.”
“What the fuck?” Dan growled, running a hand through his hair.
As if on cue, the seven SEALs began checking their weapons. The loud clanks and shnicks as clips were slid from the butts of handguns and knives were pulled from ballistic nylon sheaths were particularly loud in the little room. Irdina began to cry again, her soft wailing muffled by the shaking hands she used to cover her face.
“It could be nothing,” Rock continued, as the hair rippling over Penni’s arms told another story. “Maybe he ran out of gas, or maybe he was being tailed and needed to lose them by hoofing it through the bush.”
“Can you use the satellite’s infrared to see if it looks like he’s been followed?” she was quick to ask, figuring if they could track Steady from a little signal emitted by a device that could fit inside his watch, then that satellite Rock mentioned more than likely came equipped with all the latest bells and whistles in the ever-changing arena of spy technology.