“Any minute now,” she whispered. Belly flat on the mattress and elbows digging into the soft comforter, Makenna centered the scope’s crosshairs on the lighted upper window, inhaled deeply, and gradually exhaled until a familiar calmness settled. The target stepped into view. There you are. Like clockwork.
Right finger caressing the trigger, she itched to squeeze it back and finally end three years of sleepless nights and debilitating recrimination. A silky night breeze carrying the heady fragrance of maple and white pine drifted through the hotel window, playfully danced with the filmy curtains, and gradually cooled her temper.
Blowing a wisp of errant auburn hair to the side, she continued studying the bloated belly, sagging chest, and droopy shoulders backlit by the soft light of an opulent bedroom. Even the golden glow cast from a designer chandelier did nothing for his ghostly pale skin. Typical night dweller, she scoffed. He smoothed back a shock of white hair, wasting his time as it easily fell back into the same haphazard mess.
Age hasn’t been kind, has it, buddy? Serves you right. The thought brought a modicum of comfort until a crystal wine glass rose to thin lips. She watched in disgust as the thick throat and heavy jowls worked to down the burgundy liquid—his third in less than an hour. Body finally concealed within an expensive Brunello smoking robe, watery blue eyes lifted to the moonlit sky. She knew he was far past hope to ever be enjoying the beauty of the twinkling stars.
Nah, your mind’s probably grinding on how you can screw up another life. She ran the crosshairs along a bushy eyebrow and settled on the wide forehead now furrowed in thought. She huffed a disgusted breath. Or you’re dealing with a monster gas pain from all the food you inhaled earlier. Asshole.
His lips lifted as if enjoying whatever madness flitted through his warped mind.
“Pow,” she whispered—shadowed with a grinding need to follow through. An instant of reflection tempered her finger. “No. That’s too easy, you rank bastard” slipped menacingly into the room’s comforting darkness.
The target turned away from the glass. On a resigned sigh, Makenna removed the scope, gently placed the sniper rifle to the side, and rolled from the bed. Shoulder settling against the window frame, she brought the precision lens to her eye and scanned the impressive three-story brownstone belying the ill-gotten wealth hiding behind its austere walls. The thorough assessment had her lip curling in disgust. That’s it. Good boys. Keep doing what you’re doing. I love consistent fools.
Two sleepy guards on the roof and another lounging in the front foyer while jaw jacking on his cell brilliantly defined the string of uneventful nights she’d eventually come to expect. Waiting for nightfall had been akin to watching paint dry, but she considered it worth every excruciating hour. Gazing across the smattering of familiar cars lining the quiet street—each in their rightful place—gradually released her tense muscles. One by one, lights began flicking out as the neighborhood progressively settled in for the night. Sucking in air on a five count, she huffed it out on one. It’s time. Her backward step halted.
Brows furrowing, Makenna leaned forward, zeroing in on a black SUV entering the narrow street at a fast clip. It slowed, inched past the brownstone’s gated steps, and then picked up speed. Observing the vehicle swing around at the far intersection, return, and glide into an open slot cast in long shadows sent a surge of adrenaline to liven the moment. The headlights extinguished. Curiosity liberally laced with frustration mounted from the denied peek at this unexpected intrusion hidden behind heavily tinted glass. Law enforcement? Her pulse raced. Long seconds ticked by as she waited for something to happen. Anything. Come on. Come on. Show yourself. She got her wish.
Three doors opened and quickly shut before the light could reveal a single face. Shit. She squatted, forearms pressing against the windowsill and gripping the long scope with both hands.
“Geezus, you’re some big bastards,” she whispered, guessing their heights to be well over six and some change. They stepped from the shadows and threw her mind into a flurry of analysis. Dark muscle shirts, blue jeans, and combat boots brought a tad of surprise, but the long black braids falling to mid-back on two and well past the waist of another threw her for a loop. “Not cops.” Her shoulders relaxed. “Find your party, and get the hell off my street, guys,” she muttered.
Relief instantly disappeared as the trio split formation the second they hit the edge of the brownstone. One calmly turned down the immediate alleyway to his right and blended into the darkness. Another stopped a quarter of the way up the sidewalk while the last continued around the other side.
“Damn. Hope you’re just seriously lost.” The scope swung up to the clueless guards busy lighting their cigarettes and then back to the huge man now resting against the red brick, strong arms twined over a big chest and boots crossed at the ankle. Had she not known better, he would’ve appeared as any other pedestrian waiting for a cab to arrive. Well…almost, she admitted.
Pushing away disappointment at finding a face cast in shadow and only revealing a straight nose with slightly flared nostrils, she took her sweet-ass time studying the remaining abundance of excellence with an appreciative eye. Wide shoulders, muscles honed to perfection, evident ridged belly, narrow waist, and thick thighs holding up the tall frame had her flipping through memories to discern if she’d ever seen anyone this spectacular. Nothing came close. Seconds ticked by as she studied the puzzling man. Something about the eerily calm stance screamed of Special Forces—a practitioner in the art of stealth and destruction. Her belly rolled.
Eye darting to each end of the home, she watched his buddies returning. Even though they stayed on the outer edges of light cast by the streetlamps, she could definitely tell they were outstanding specimens of strength, as well. Neither appeared in a hurry, though their long, gliding strides quickly ate up the sidewalk.
“Yeah, that’s good. Keep moving. No party here, fellas.” She glanced back at the other and almost swallowed her tongue. He’d moved away from the wall yet wasn’t acknowledging his approaching friends. An exquisite face was cocked upward…right in her direction.
Makenna backed into the comforting darkness yet couldn’t stop the frantic search of his features. A closely groomed goatee surrounded full, masculine lips now parting to reveal the hint of white teeth. He appeared to speak, and her eyes flew up to his. Slashing brows lowered over a set of ebony pools thick with cunning intelligence and ringed with perfect lashes. They narrowed. Makenna hauled in a breath, feeling as if he was drilling a hole into her skull and finding every little dark secret. She swiveled around, back smacking against the wall. Several minutes passed before her heart promised to stay in her chest. Feeling overwhelmingly silly for thinking that someone could actually see her from three hundred yards away, she chanced another peek. The SUV was gone.
Ass plopping down onto the thick carpet, her heart sank just as suddenly. “No, Makenna. Not frat boys. Focused. In and out recon. Precise.” Her brows furrowed. “Italian mafia,” she whispered hoarsely. “Friend or foe?” The ridiculously gorgeous face flew through her thoughts again, trying to find traction. She chased it away. Leaping up, Makenna began gathering her things, forcing frivolous emotions to slow their roll. “Screw that. It is what it is,” she said with growing confidence. “Just don’t get in my damn way, pretty boy. I’d hate to put a bullet in that perfect forehead.”
Altair tore at his shirt, uncaring of the ripping fabric. He wanted it off. She’s too far away, his befuddled mind screamed. He cried out at the exquisite sensation of her fumbling with his belt, knuckles bumping against his belly. She clawed at his zipper, finally released it, and shoved the jeans to his thighs.
“Oh my God,” she mumbled.
Hot fingers wrapped the beast standing at full attention and practically bellowing its happiness. Her thumb swiped across the weeping head, slipped up the sensitive underside, and returned for another dragging caress. A knee buckled. He stumbled sideways, shoulder smacking into the dresser. Their eyes instantly locked. His temptress called to him with just the narrowing of her brilliant green eyes, demanding his return.
He heard his boots smashing against the bathroom door, positive his socks were still riding inside. The jeans flew across the room, belt buckle clanking loudly against the nightstand and knocking over a lamp. His balls tingled upon her growl of approval at his desperation. Every sound and sensation screamed of mutual urgency to become one, to forget what waited outside the inviting space and threatened this newly formed and extremely fragile connection.
Reaching out and ripping the towel from her glorious body sent a surge of blood to his cock, showing her that he’d been far from done on its presentation. Lunging forward, Altair captured her jaw and continued the kiss that rivaled all others he’d ever experienced. He never wanted to break from her again, to breathe her in, and keep her with him forever. He wrapped her in a tight embrace. The press of her warm, feminine flesh against his own had him wondering if he’d make it. This wasn’t a round of jacking his own bored cock until it became rote and unwelcome. No, this was his female. His life. He prayed he didn’t hurt her in his crazed need to claim. Not once did their lips part as he stalked toward the bed.
Altair pressed her to the mattress, dropped to his knees, and clamped his mouth over her hot, juicy cunt. Heady with her exquisite scent and silky juices, he ate her out like there was no tomorrow and it was his last banquet. She came. Hard.
“Oh my God, Altair!” she squealed, thighs slamming against his ears.
He sucked in a breath, grinned, and dove in for another round of delectable female, uncaring of the tight grip on his hair. He loved it, demanding more. Slipping two fingers inside her grasping pussy, Altair nailed her G-spot, refusing to let up on the pulsating pressure until she came again. Violently.
“Son of a bitch!” she shouted to the ceiling and writhed beneath his seeking hand traveling up her sweaty, quivering belly.
He found a mound of voluptuous breast and tweaked a budded nipple. She clamped harder on his fingers and undulated against his face, heels beating into his back. He came up for air, reveling in the mask of torturous pleasure gripping her features, the hard bursts of breath shooting between clenched teeth, and eyes squeezed shut as she rode the tidal wave of pleasure owning her every sense. A band of twisting warmth gripped his heart. He wanted her addicted, desperate, and demanding him to be with her forever. It consumed him.
Sliding forward, Altair pressed his slick body against every enticing curve, hands wandering over rounded hips, the arc of her ribs, and palming both luscious breasts. He buried his face against the soft mounds, breathing in her scent. He licked every inch of mouthwatering flesh, sucking on hard, dusky-rose nipples begging for attention. Her nails scraped across his back, hips moving in a slow wave and languidly dragging a swollen clit against his belly.
“More, Altair. Give me more,” she begged in a sultry whisper.
His cock kicked hard against the bed, demanding and insistent. Altair rose at her call, notched the bulbous, leaking head at her abundantly slick pussy, and gripped her hips. He began slowly rocking forward, wetting the dark, throbbing tip. Preparing. “Look at me, Makenna,” he rumbled.
Dazed emerald eyes collided with his own.
“I need to be inside you.”
She nodded enthusiastically. Succulent lips parted on a gasp as his cockhead eagerly penetrated her fiery, aching heat. His jaw clenched.
“Oh, you grip me like a fist.” She fluttered at his praise, lifting his ball sac. He withdrew to the tip and slid forward again, coating and slicking his rigid flesh repeatedly until he could no longer think straight or discern where he left off and she began.
“You fit me, angeli,” he ground out. “Perfection.”
Her words were nothing but a soft whisper as gorgeous eyes scoured his body. “You’re so impossibly beautiful.” She grunted as he bottomed out, head lolling to the side. “So thick. You feel wonderful,” followed a low, guttural moan. He trembled upon the slide of her heels against his ass. Her hips rolled upward. “Harder, Altair. You won’t break me.”
He fought to keep his seed as the sultry enticement licked across his balls and sucked at the tip of his dick. Bending, Altair pressed his palms next to her shoulders. He kicked up the rhythm, strokes coming shorter and harder as his groin beat a steady drum against her clit. The sight of his mating necklace bouncing from one hard nubbin to the other had him gritting his teeth to stop the howl of delight from escaping his lips. Her breath hitched, and she gripped her hair, breasts jiggling on each pounding thrust. Gods! She’s so fucking beautiful.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Just like that. Oh, yeah. There you go. Umm, I’m on fire again.” White teeth caught a bottom lip reddened from his ardent kisses.
Her mewling whimpers and low groans pushed him to keep her enthralled and staring at him as if he were Eros himself. Her rhythm changed, proving she was inches away from losing herself to him completely. Her compliant, undulating body made him only harder and more determined. Sweat slid down his back, proving the exertion to keep her just on the edge before denying that last push. Repeatedly, he teased of the cataclysmic finish until she was begging and clawing at his flesh in wanton abandon. He rewarded her for surrendering so beautifully to his efforts.