Desire . . . Trust?
I’m headed back to the Blood Legion MC in New Orleans, my old stomping grounds. Guns. Thugs. Broads. Cocaine nightmares. A Mexican cartel, cracker coke runners, and now there’s a new international threat in town.
Blaize Carmichael is my only partner in this op. Blaize. As a biker babe. Jeeesus. I’ve had a bone for her from day one when she walked into headquarters—haughty, superior, and always in charge.
There’s a goddamn good chance we’ll get made, played, and put in the grave as government-issue traitors. But I can’t help it—I love to get rough, raw, dirty, and dominant with her.
No more yes ma’am, no ma’am. Blaize is about to find out I don’t always takes orders as issued.
I can’t stand the way Storm calls me woman or cher or sexy. As soon as we’re back in DC, I’m going to wipe that infuriating wicked smirk right off his dangerously handsome face.
I’m always prepared for every scenario. I’ve built my career on complete professionalism in and out of the field. But when Storm comes at me with wild animal lust—when he opens up to me—when he opens me up, I can’t say no.
I don’t want to.
We’re in danger every single day we stay in NOLA. There is no way we can make it out alive. Not together. Not this time.
I placed Blaize down in the bed, gently. Dropping my clothes to the floor, I crawled in beside her and leaned up on my elbow.
“There’s just one thing I want from you, Blaize. Not pity. Not worry. Not as my boss. And no ass kicking either.”
“Kiss me for real.”
“Is that a directive?” Her arms wound around my shoulders, guiding me down to her.
“As direct as I get.”
A low groan rolled from my chest as soon as our lips met. The heat of her mouth, the touch of her tongue, the light tease of her hands up and down my back was summer soft, and highly addictive.
The slant of her head was perfect and when she drove her fingers into the muscles of my ass, a louder longer groan rushed out of me and into her mouth. My chest filled, pumping like bellows, and I wanted to crash all the way against her, mate her, make her completely mine.
With a soft graze of her teeth against my bottom lip, she pulled just slightly back.
“Blaize.” I skimmed my hands from her waist to her hips to her thighs, nudging my mouth against hers. “Fuck, Blaize.”
She drew her hands up my arms, over my shoulders, locked them behind my neck. “I thought you needed something sweet.”
“That was more than sweet.” Sweet torture.
I rolled her to her side, asking for nothing more than her warmth.
I’d already gotten her kiss.
I could be patient enough to wait for the rest. All of her.
“Remember that the next time you want to curse the boss lady, sugar.”
“Sugar?” My belly rumbled with a laugh. “You learning the lingo?”
She sighed with a little sniffle that meant she was ready to head to la-la land.
I whispered against her neck, “You know you really fall asleep too easily with me.”
“’M’still awake,” she slurred.
She drifted off just like that.
And half an hour later, I still needed to get off.
This room was gonna smell like hot sex by the morning one way or the other.
Getting up without disturbing her, I cracked the balcony door, poured a drink, and spat into my palm.
Sitting in the chair, I spread my thighs, hefted my meaty balls in one hand, and drank the whisky.
My cock rose up to my stomach, a huge thick rod incapable of going soft with an almost naked Blaize in my bed. I took another drink, letting the scotch roll around my mouth as my fist closed over the base of my cock and cruised up to the purplish head of my dick. I squeezed, and a drop of pre-come rolled out. Clear and slippery, the fluid ran down my veiny length and pooled against my sac.
Blaize shifted in the bed, her arms outstretched, blindly searching for me. With an operative’s instincts that something was different, her head snapped up and she was immediately awake.
Her eyes darted to me, spread out and naked before her.
“Didn’t wake you, did I?” I tugged my cock, making it even harder, hotter, pulsing.
“Fuck. Storm.” She sat up, and as the sheet drifted to her waist I could easily make out the sexy way her nipples tightened.
My pelvis rocked up.
I stared at her. “C’mere.”
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html