“Harder,” she ordered.
I’d barely got my cock inside her and already she wanted to go balls to the wall? Give a guy a chance to find his rhythm for fuck’s sake.
“Bossy bitch,” I muttered and pulling out to the tip, I thrust in again—hard.
“Oh yes,” she breathed. Her hands slid over my shoulders and down my back. I felt the sharp sting of fingernails scratching over my ass cheeks as she grabbed at me.
“You draw blood and I’ll spank you so fucking hard you’ll see stars,” I warned.
Her eyes lit up and her nails dug in harder. Jesus, this bitch liked it rough. I would’ve tied her up if I’d known, save getting my skin shredded.
My phone rang.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I snarled, hearing the work ringtone on my first day off in three weeks.
The noisy, persistent shrill overtook the harsh sound of heavy breathing and the sound of skin slapping on skin as I rammed myself inside her, just how she said she wanted it.
“Don’t answer it,” she panted.
I thrust in once more. Damn it. I was so close. “It’s work.”
Reaching for the phone, I hit answer and put it to my ear. “Casey,” I barked irritably.
Maybe I could get Morgan off before I wrapped up the call. I pumped my hips in short, sharp bursts and she cried out beneath me. I put a finger to my lips, silently shushing her as Travis replied in my ear, “Casey. You’re up.”
I bit back a groan as Morgan came, her walls contracting around my cock. “Yeah, I am. In more ways than one.”
“Thanks for the visual. We’ve been called out on a job. Shake a leg.” His voice might’ve been muffled, but the urgent tone came through loud and clear. “I’ll message the location.”
Shit. Well at least one of us managed to get off.
“On my way,” I replied and hung up.
I pulled out with a regretful growl and a cock still hard and aching for release. Ignoring it for now, I moved off the bed. Morgan rolled to her side, her lips forming a pout as she watched me peel the condom off. In a hurry, I tossed it on the floor with a grimace and grabbed a pair of jeans off the corner chair.
“Sorry, Morgan.” I tugged them over my legs and yanked up the zipper. Half dressed, I leaned over the bed and slapped her on the rump. “Up you get.”
“Nice,” I heard her mutter. A bit louder, she said, “You want to try this again later?”
“Sure,” I replied casually, my tone suggesting there was no way I wanted to try this with her again ever. Even if I wanted to, I had a barbecue to go to tomorrow at a friend’s house and security detail for the well-known band Jamieson later that night.
The file, idiot!
I swiped a hand across my face. Feeling like a two-bit whore, I turned and tossed my phone at her while she was scooting off the bed. “Put your number in there. I’ll call you when I wrap this shit up, okay?”
She grinned, her look victorious. I turned my back on it. Reaching for a shirt, I yanked it down my chest while she tapped in her contact details. Wallet, keys, and phone all went in my pockets while she was still at the stage of putting on her bra. I vaguely remember thinking her underwear sexy last night, but in the cold light of day, the tiny scraps of red lace did nothing.
Leaning in, I brushed a quick kiss to her cheek. “I have to go. Let yourself out?”
An hour later and I was crouched behind a large rock alongside Travis—both of us locked in position so our cover wouldn’t be blown. My shirt was damp with sweat and I was itching to peel it off and feel a cool breeze on my skin.
“You dragged me away from sex, on my day off, for this shit?” I bitched. “Have I told you that I really don’t like you right now?”
The day was overcast and the humidity was not only sapping away the last of my remaining energy, it was increasing the desire to strangle Travis until his eyeballs popped from his head—which I planned to do, just as soon as our target was acquired, taken down, and I’d stretched out the cramps in my legs.
“Have I told you that you’re acting like a little bitch?” Travis countered.
I risked a glance sideways. Travis had his blond hair tied off his face. Arms up, gun cocked, he tilted his head to the side, bright green eyes flat as he tracked our target through his viewfinder. I knew without a doubt when he pulled the trigger he would find his mark. Travis was just that guy, the one who did whatever it took to have your back.
He’d had mine from the moment we met in our first year at Charles Sturt University. I took him down in an illegal high tackle in rugby league tryouts. Shoving me off, he growled a curse and threw a punch that would’ve rendered a lesser man unconscious. Not me though. I came from a background where crippling blows were the accepted form of communication. I could’ve taken it ten times over if I had to, but Travis wasn’t looking to go another ten rounds. He’d simply held out a hand and hauled me to my feet. A slap on the back, a beer at the university’s pub, and we were friends.