“Come now!” the second man mouthed. The implied command in the hard set of his features sent Syn soaring over the precipice. Her pussy convulsed, and she threw back her head, no longer worried about remaining quiet, moaning out her orgasm into the sultry night, grinding herself against Ice, trusting him not to let her fall.
Her cries were echoed by those of the trio and the pulsing of Ice’s cock beneath her fingers as he silently joined the erotic orgy of rapturous release.
A combination of panic and tender emotions tightened Ice’s chest as he glanced down at Syn’s slumberous, sated expression. Christ, he really was losing his edge.
He hadn’t been able to resist investigating the sensual sounds coming from behind the cabana. An eyeful of the titillating scene had been enough for him, but when he would have turned and walked away, Syn started rubbing her sweet, hot pussy all over him. Her arousal had spiked his, and once her slender fingers squeezed his dick, any thoughts of leaving the threesome behind fled his brain, which shutdown. That was the crux of what disturbed him so deeply now.
A few months shy of turning forty and having twenty years military experience under his belt. Fourteen full years of intense training and precision work as a SEAL had honed his senses to a razor’s edge. He was always aware of his surroundings, on guard, and prepared to handle any threat.
And yet, he’d let Syn’s amorous response to some public sex override all his training and leave them vulnerable. Not once during that sexy little scene had he checked their six. An enemy could have waltzed right up behind him and taken them out.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Keeping an arm wrapped around her for support, he hustled Syn to the road and into a nearby bicycle taxi, giving the driver the address to the bar. To hell with their shoes. He’d pick them up tomorrow if they were still where he’d left them.
During the short trip, he mentally traced the start of his decline in discipline and focus back almost a full year. Dressed in layers of thick camouflage in the middle of a desert, holding the same position for endless hours in the sweltering Sudan heat waiting for his shot. His mind had drifted from the mission, becoming filled with visions of Syndra nude, golden tanned skin a beautiful contrast to black sheets, a satisfied smile on her lips as she slept after several hours of intense lovemaking.
Jagger’s harsh voice had crackled through the comm unit in his ear demanding his status and startled Ice back to the mission. His sharp gaze, enhanced by the high-powered scope, watched in stunned horror as his target’s armored vehicle sped away, kicking up a thick concealing wall of desert dust.
The team hadn’t suspected or hinted that he’d fucked up. His awareness never faltered, and he did not miss a viable shot. They presumed some unknown condition had made the shot impossible because ice ran through his veins and nothing broke his concentration. Ever.
Then the team’s subsequent standby had gone complete and total FUBAR. Syn and he had been in the middle of a heated argument over her work for the erotic publisher with the steroid jerks when his pager had gone off. Less than twenty-four hours into their leave and the team had been recalled. He didn’t even get the chance to kiss her before jumping on a helo and heading off for a cluster fuck assignment that had lasted seven long months. And on that assignment, history had almost repeated itself.
Ice shook his head. Daydreaming about Syn in the midst of a mission had already cost him one kill shot, letting his team down and making months of hard work useless. Continuing to do so could cost him a team member. He couldn’t live with that on his conscience.
Syn squeezed his arm, derailing his train of thought. The bike’s bell rang out as the slow moving taxi made its way through light pedestrian traffic. “Talk to me, Ice. What’s happening?”
He didn’t have answers for her any more than he had for Jagger when the other man asked the same question. Their arrival back at the bar saved him from responding. He paid the driver and held out a hand for her keys. She didn’t say a word, just handed them over. Less than ten minutes later, they stepped into the massive foyer of a multi-million dollar Spanish hacienda right out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.
He didn’t give Syn time to soak in the splendor of the mansion, all but pushing her up the curved marble and wrought iron staircase and down the hall to the room he’d laid claim to earlier. She didn’t protest. Their all too brief romp on the beach must have left her as hungry as he.
It had been more than a year since they’d had sex. While he wanted to spend hours worshiping her gorgeous body and pay homage to her spectacular curves, if he didn’t get inside Syn soon, he’d go crazy. The wait had been way too long.