Don’t clench. Don’t clench. She wanted to make this an experience they both would remember.
His rigid cock pressed against her muscled ring and popped in an inch. Her mouth opened as she sucked in air. He gathered her hair and pulled the mass back, forcing her to arch her back. Her belly tightened and her tits stretched. She swallowed to gain some composure. Having no control at all, he brought her to a new place.
He slid his cock out halfway and eased in. With little thrusts, he edged his way down her dark channel. He let go of her tits and dragged his fingers down her belly. Something sharp poked her. She didn’t remembered him having such sharp nails.
A low growl seemed to come from his chest. “I need to fuck you.”
“Yes. Fuck me hard.”
With her assent, he drove in hard. Had he not been holding her head in a locked vise, she would have flown forward.
“By the moon above, I need you.”
He lowered his head and something sharp pricked her neck. It was the same pleasant sensation as before. So deep in the throes of lust she didn’t care if he did stabbed her over and over again.
She was able to thrust her hips back, which only incited him more. He pounded into her relentlessly until she almost burst. Her climax grew closer and she feared she’d lose control.
He returned his hand to fondle her nipples. When he pinched one, she lit up. Shudders wracked her body as her pussy convulsed. His last thrust tossed her over the edge, and her climax claimed her.
“Oh, God. Yes. Dante!”
She let him sweep her away by the tidal wave of desire. His burning cum seared her ass as he licked her neck, and his hot breath streamed down her body. Her heart pounded in her chest as the pulses in her ass and pussy finally slowed.
Dante rested his head on her back and let go of her hair. He gently cupped her tits with one hand and massaged them. Had he not had an arm under her belly, she might have collapsed.
“Liz, Liz, Liz.”
She smiled when he called her by her name.
He leaned back and his cock popped out of her. “Be right back.”
As soon as he left, she sat up and swiped the hair off her sweaty face. What had she gotten herself into? These men had a way of altering her body and her mind.
He returned with a cloth and wiped her down. Then he picked up her clothes and handed them to her. Using all of her energy, she pulled her shirt over her head, donned her undies and pants, and followed him out, carrying her bra.
Now was as good a time as any to tell him what was on her mind. “I know that Trax is working really hard to find Couch, but I can’t sit around here forever—as pleasant as it is.”
“Sit down and talk to me.”
His concern warmed her.
“As much as I love being here, I have a job. If I don’t go back to work soon, I’ll get fired. That’s not fair to me because I can’t pay my bills if I don’t work.”
He opened and closed his mouth. “I understand what you’re saying, but Trax will not be happy. You know it’s not safe.” He waved a hand as if to imply that didn’t matter. “But if you insist on leaving, you’ll need to take Trax’s gun along with some bullets. As for when you should leave, let’s wait and see what he has to say.”
“Thanks.” Right now, she’d take what she could get.
He placed the werewolf bullets in the gun and handed it to her. “Put this somewhere safe and for goodness sake, don’t tell him I gave this to you. He’d kill me.”
“He’s not a violent man. He’d never hurt you.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
Chapter Fifteen
Trax and his men arrived at the same shipyard Liz had directed them to a few days before. According to her memo, Couch was meeting Jeffrey Wendlick who was Kurt Wendlick’s brother and a double agent for the Pack. When Trax and his men arrived at the shipyard, they’d wired up Jeffrey, assuring him that not only did his brother have his back, but so did four others.
Kurt’s brother had explained how he’d spent months infiltrating Couch’s clan, and that the Colters taught him how to bring the drugs in from Mexico without detection. After a few trips, he’d learned the Mexicans would heat cocaine mixed with hydrochloride and douse suitcases full of clothes in this liquid. All he had to do was come back with the cocaine-laced clothes. He never saw or touched the drugs himself.
When he safely passed through customs, he turned the suitcases over to a Ricardo Ramirez, one of Couch’s flunkies. From what he’d heard, Couch’s men ran the clothes through a machine to extract the cocaine. The procedure was brilliant and simple. The Pack’s agent had been doing this process for over a month and had delivered over three million dollars in drugs, but Jeffrey had never been privy to what happened next.