Read Online Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three by Danica St. Como - Free Book Online

She heard his zipper as he released his cock to press against her, as hard and as thick as she remembered. Leaning forward, his mouth brushed her ear, whispered. “Forget sailor boy. I liked it better when you cried ooh baby as you came on my cock. And came. And came.” He reached between her thighs and fingered her. “Damn, girl, you’re already wet for me.”
    “Stop talking!” She nearly hissed in her frustration, unable to disguise the raw naked yearning in her voice, pissed off at herself for falling victim to his presence.
    She heard him rip open a condom packet; two seconds later, he’d buried his lubricated shaft in her hot flesh. In her hot, needy flesh. Once again, he stretched her to the limit, that delicious burn as perfect as she remembered.
    MacBride pulled back enough to slide his arm around and under her pelvis, reached her clit with long strong fingers, as the tender lips of her labia unfolded and clung tightly to his shaft. He rolled the bud between forefinger and thumb, then sharply tapped his fingertip against the nerve bundle above the hood of the swollen nub. Again.
    And again.
    ” Omigod, sweet Jesus , whatever you just did, do it again, I’m right there, baby, I need to come on your cock, I missed this … .” Oh shit, did I just say that out loud? She wriggled her hips against him. Maybe he didn’t hear me. Maybe he’s too busy. Maybe … oh shit, oh sweet Christ!
    He slid his hands under the sides of her backless halter-top and over her high firm breasts, kneaded the stiff points of her nipples. Then reached down, rolled, and flicked her clit again.
    With no pillow to muffle the sound, she thrust her forearm against her mouth to keep from screaming his name as she came. His orgasm burst free a few seconds later, as her pussy walls gripped his shaft. He grasped her waist, pumped into her until there was nothing left except the harsh sound of their hoarse breathing.
    Keko rested her elbows on the workbench, while she willed her pulse to slow.
    Great, now I’ll have splinters, as well as rug burns . Her hair worked free of the barrette.
    Long, black strands draped across her back and shoulders, fell forward over her breasts.
    MacBride carefully pulled out, used hand wipes from a container hanging on the wall to clean each of them as well as possible. He found the plastic bag from her lunch in the trash basket, stashed all evidence of their encounter.
    Keko pulled up her panties and shorts. “Leave everything. I’ll toss it all.”
    MacBride attempted to hold her again, but she wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t raise her face. The heavy curtain of her hair hid her expression. She couldn’t look at him.
    “Sheriff, you’d better go before Chandler, or one of his agents, decides to check on my progress.”
    “Now I’m the sheriff again? Keko, I can’t leave you like this.”
    “Like what? I’m fine. We’ll … talk … later.”
    “Keko—”
    “MacBride, will you go? Please?”
    “You could call me Brian.”
    “You could go away.”
    “Okay, maybe just Mac?”
    “Go! Get out!”
    She heard him leave, then she heaved a huge sigh. She retrieved the barrette from the floor, smoothed her hair and clipped it back, leaned against the table to regain her bearings.
    What’s wrong with me? Am I brain dead or something? Women were totally lining up to check him out at the lounge in L.A. He shamelessly flirted with the Junior League woman at the airport kiosk. He’s gorgeous, he’s hung, he has skills, he’s a player. What are the chances that this will end happily ever after, like Lorelei and her lovers? No chance, idiot. No chance at all. I’ll finish up here, hop back to Boston with Kamaka. End of story.
    Chandler returned about ten minutes later. From the concerned expression on his face, she must have looked frightful.
    “Ms. Holokai, I understand you’re bunking in the lodge at Sanctuary. Sheriff MacBride must have received a call; he left in a cloud of dust before I could ask him