“I said count, Mia. No other commentary allowed.” He chuckled. “That’s five more.”
Her brain turned to mush. She didn’t know what he was doing to her and she didn’t care. All she knew was that it felt so good. So fucking good.
The erotic assault continued, fierce whacks intermingled with Jackson’s fingers teasing her pussy, stroking her slit, tickling her labia, flicking her clit. When they neared the end of the countdown, he shifted on the mattress, and suddenly she felt something cold and foreign probing her entrance.
The dildo. Oh sweet Lord.
He pushed the tip of the sex toy inside her just as his palm stung her ass again. On the second-to-last smack, he wedged the dildo in farther. On the final one, the toy was buried deep inside her.
Mia had no fricking clue why she hadn’t come yet. God knew she was wet enough. Achy enough. She was ready to combust as she lay there draped over him, her ass sticking up in the air like a sacrificial offering.
“Oh, sugar, you should see your bottom right now. Bright red and so goddamn pretty. Do you want to come, Mia? I think you do, huh?”
She groaned in response.
Jackson slowly pulled out the dildo so only the tip filled her core. He twisted it around a couple of times, his movements utterly indolent, thoughtful even.
“Silly me,” he murmured. “I seem to have neglected your ass.”
Confusion settled in, forming a question on her lips—because hadn’t he just tormented the living daylights out of her ass?—but she didn’t get the opportunity to voice it. An agonized moan ripped out instead, as Jackson’s finger found her anus, breached the puckered ring of muscle and plunged right through it. He wasted no time driving the sex toy back into her core, fucking her hard with it while he fingered her asshole with the same merciless tempo.
Mia must have blacked out. She didn’t remember climaxing, wasn’t sure how she got on her back, didn’t know how Jackson’s cock had wound up inside her, but her limp muscles and the unbearable pleasure pricking her flesh told her she’d come, and come hard. And then it was happening again, a rush of bliss overtaking her as his muscular body moved over hers.
“Fuck, oh fuck yeah. I’m gonna come,” he grunted, and then his head dipped down and their mouths met in a blistering kiss.
His tongue devoured her mouth, his lips staying locked with hers through his entire climax. Mia’s pulse drummed loudly in her ears as the heat of his release soaked her aching channel. His piercing—that goddamn incredible piercing—hit her sweet spot as he shuddered on top of her, adding to the delicious sensations already wreaking havoc on her body.
She would never get used to it. The bone-melting pleasure, the intensity, the feeling of pure liberation that consumed her whenever this man had his way with her.
Temporary, her brain reminded her.
Even as she gasped for air and let Jackson roll her over so they were lying side-by-side in a sweaty mess, she was telling herself that this wouldn’t last forever. That she’d be a fool to think it even could.
They would say goodbye eventually. She knew that.
But until that happened…until then…God, she was going to cling to the way Jackson Ramsey made her feel, and enjoy every last second of this mind-blowing fling.
Chapter Nine
“So here’s what we’ve got.” Commander Roger Doyle swept his razor-sharp gaze over the group standing before him. “Enemy rebels captured two of our boys who were conducting a reconnaissance mission in North Korean waters. The men are being held in a sub off the west coast, just north of Namp’o in the South Pyongan Province. Sub is also believed to be harboring sensitive data pertaining to US Special Operations, stolen by the rebels during a siege on the American navy base in Yongsan. We’ve got two objectives, boys—rescue the hostages and destroy the sub. Any questions?”
Thomas Becker, the commanding officer of Team Fifteen, spoke up briskly. “How many tangos in the sub?”
“Eight.”
“How many on the surface?”
“Eight stationed on a fishing boat nearby. Armed with assault rifles and a few other nasty surprises.”
“Any way to approach the red zone by vessel?” Lieutenant Carson Scott asked from his perch against the wall.
“Negative. They’ll have eyes on the water. The op requires a HALO jump and a scuba approach.” Doyle moved away from the chalkboard and headed for the door. “I’ll leave the op specs with Lieutenant Commanders Becker and Walsh. Team Eight, tangos. Team Fifteen, you’re the good guys.”
Dylan and Seth high-fived, while the members of the newly arrived Team Eight let out simultaneous groans.
“Why are we always the bad dudes?” the dark-haired ensign who’d introduced himself as Hunter complained.
“Seriously,” a petty officer named Duke griped.