Damaged Goods (22 page)

She looked at Poncho, who was still staring at her—slack jawed after her unkind threat. Unfortunately, he was no help once he recovered from his shock. “No way, Ash, I’m with him.”

“Fine,” Ashley said with a sniff, “I guess it wouldn’t matter to you big, strong, manly men that I know where the cougar hunting paths are then?”

That stopped them both, but Jake recovered first and said, “No. No it won’t. If you’re too ornery to save us time and tell us we’ll just have to find them ourselves.”

“Hmm.” Ashley studied her nails and pulled out the big one. “So, I guess it also won’t help to tell you I know where the den is either? Both dens.” Then she walked away while the two of them sputtered, and Jake started cursing like a sailor.

It took weeks to find the hunting trails of a wild cougar and most dens were never found. That she already had this information would save them time and resources that they couldn’t afford to waste. With more cursing Jake faced the fact that she was going with them and tried to come to terms with it. It wasn’t easy. The thought of her out there in danger was wreaking havoc in his gut.

“Man,” Poncho said with a supportive thump on his shoulder. “You got your work cut out for you with that one.”

“You got that right.” The two of them cleaned up the kitchen in silence, Jake’s mind moving past worry and on to the fact that a month’s worth of tedious and freezing work was magically behind them and what that would mean for the job.

That night they were all cold, wet and starving. Including the dogs. Ashley had led them to the trails and the two dens. Both were closer to her home and campground than either man was comfortable with. They set up motion-activated cameras and collected scat samples to try and ascertain what the cats were eating.

As soon as they entered the mudroom, Ashley shed her outer gear and stuffed her feet into bunny slippers. Then she dropped to her knees and started drying the dogs with the towels she had stacked by the door. Jake and Poncho did the same, minus the bunny slippers. “Thanks.” Ashley didn’t try and stop them. The dogs had earned their care and kept them all safe. Besides she was so beat. Even if they hadn’t done so on their own she would have asked for help cleaning them up.

“Of course,” Jake said with a full smile as he dodged Grover’s own version of a thank you—his drool-coated tongue. “These guys earned themselves a steak dinner, least we could do is help with the rub down.”

“Mmmm,” Ashley groaned. “Red meat. I’ll pull some out on my way to check on Apollo. You guys fire up the grill.” She stumbled out with bunny ears flopping.

“Must be love,” Poncho said as he grabbed a new towel and started on the last wet dog. “That girl is wearing long johns, had a runny red nose and pink fuzzy bunnies on her feet yet you’re smiling after her like she was a swimsuit model.”

Jake looked at him and grinned. “If it ain’t love, I’m going to be in trouble when the real thing does hit.” He finished drying the dog and trotted after her. long johns or not, they were wrapped around a mighty fine ass and he was going to see if he could get his hands on it before she covered it up with more layers.

He stopped to wash, no matter how much the lady liked her dogs, he was sure no woman would be seduced by a man who smelled like one. Then was brought up short as he stepped into her room.

She stood with her back to the door rambling to Apollo about the day they’d had wearing nothing but a miniscule pair of panties. If he’d been capable of coherent thought he’d have quietly backed out of the room and closed the door. But staring at the curve of her back and the perfect inverted heart of her ass, rational thought fled, leaving only instinct.

He moved on silent feet and slid his hands along the curve of her hips. When she jerked in surprise he held tight. At first she tried to turn to face him but must have realized she was topless and instead clasped her arms across her breasts and hissed at him, “What are you doing in my room? Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

He smiled, dipped his knees a little so that when he pulled her in tighter to him, that perfect backside was nestled in just the right place. He kissed her shoulder. “I would have knocked, if you had closed the door.” He nibbled his way up her neck and whispered into her ear, “Were you hoping I’d follow? Hoping I’d find you all but naked and do what I’m doing right now?” Then he sucked her lobe into his mouth and hummed when she gasped and shuddered for him.

A man with handcuffs. A woman with a paddle. Both fly F-16s.

Hold ’Em

© 2012 Katie Porter

Vegas Top Guns, Book 3

Daughter of a world-famous motocross champion, and head-on competitor with three brothers, Captain Leah “Princess” Girardi was born with a need for speed. No one tells her what to do, especially not men with chauvinistic “girls can’t be fighter pilots” attitudes.

That’s what ended her brief relationship with Captain Mike “Strap Happy” Templeton. Now, six years later, he’s been assigned to her squadron, and whoa
damn
, he’s filled out nicely. Plus he’s cultivated a Zen-like chill factor that pulls at her hormones.

Even after four tours, Mike’s the new kid in the 64
^th
Aggressor Squadron. That’s not the only thing new. Since he last saw Leah, he’s learned a few things about himself. A female who outranks him still makes his teeth grind, but in the bedroom he craves the rush of pain inflicted by an adoring, powerful woman.

Their reunion is an explosive revelation. Leah is the beautiful mistress he’s been searching for, and she takes to her new role like a natural. But Leah’s aware one thing
hasn’t
changed. Loving him is still an all-or-nothing proposition. She’s not sure her reckless streak is wide enough to risk her career—and her heart.

Warning: This book contains a hot stud on his knees, a woman wielding a paddle, and filthy-gorgeous femdom sex. Also: dangerous rock climbing, two amazing motorcycles and some bad tequila.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Hold ’Em:

Something inside Leah faltered. Shivered with fear. She stirred her spoon in her mug, letting it clink against the sides. “How did this happen, Mike?”

The smirk curving his mouth matched his bright neon eyes—all teasing now. Her girl bits woke up at the thought of making him shift to that deep, deep blue once again. That blue screamed his arousal and hid it in dark shadows. What would it take? Her fingers buzzed with the need to find out.

“Do I need to give you a sex-ed talk? I thought you were a big girl.”

“No, not sex ed,” she said with a little laugh. “I’ve had plenty of that. But maybe BDSM 101?” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Because that is what we’re doing here, right?”

He scraped his fingers along his nape. “Yeah, you could say that. I’d prefer to say we’re having a good time. Getting off.” He aimed that volatile smile at her, the one that made her heart go pitter-pat like she were some type of idiot tweener. “Getting off majorly.”

“But I don’t know where the line is. Where we stop.”

He shrugged. “We stop wherever we want to.”

Her short breath was everything frustration. “Don’t play stupid. I know you’re not. I mean if I wanted to order you to feed me breakfast, would you?”

“If you really wanted me to, maybe. I’d think about it.” He folded his arms on the other side of the bar and leaned into them. His brow wrinkled as he thought. “I don’t know how to explain this simply though. I’m not a service sub or into humiliation. I don’t want to be treated like a piece of shit. I’m still the guy you used to know. Outside the bedroom, at least.”

“But in it, you’re different.”

She was too, it seemed. Already she was hungering for more. To give him commands and watch him obey. She craved the pretty, tormented expression on his face as she pushed and pushed, trying to find his boundaries, and the way his muscles twitched and popped as he held back.

“Yeah. I am.” He lifted his head at that, steadying his gaze. Daring her to make something of it.

A heated pulse set up between her legs. The fact that he liked to be tied up while he fucked didn’t make him any less of a man. He almost shimmered with strength and a pulse of arrogance.

Leah locked her knees together. She still had more questions.

“Is that a strict rule?” she asked.

“What? Which part?”

“In the bedroom.” She smiled slowly then tucked the bottom hem of her borrowed T-shirt between her thighs. “Like, if I told you to get down on your knees and lick me right now? Would you do that?”

His eyes turned that dark blue. His smile faltered, replaced by something hungrier. More raw. “Are you ordering me to?”

“Not yet. So by in the bedroom then, you mean sexual situations only.”

His nod was sharp, tense. “Pretty much.”

“What about your other limits? You said last night they involved third parties.”

“I’m not into guys. I’m not into forced cuckolding.”

“What?”

He was back to smug again. Apparently he liked knowing more than her. Resolve made her spine stiffen. That situation wouldn’t last long. She might have to take a field trip on her own. Brush up on the basics. It never hurt a girl to know her opponent.

“Being made to watch while you bang someone else,” he explained.

She shook her head. “No, not for me.” This tenuous thing between them was entirely too…
something
to add more people. Special, she supposed. Exotic enough as it was.

“I’ve got some other things I won’t do too, but I have a suspicion they’re not going to come up. Or I’ll give you a red light if they do.” The tiniest hint of a patronizing tone slipped into his speech. He was so damn confidant.

But that didn’t keep the power away from her.

She flashed out a hand and sank her fingers into his tumbled hair. Pulling gently, then with crueler intent, she drank in the wince that tightened the skin around his eyes. The only thing better was the way they darkened and how he slicked his tongue over his smile. His shoulders bunched as he pressed his palms flat against the scuffed countertop.

“It’s strange,” she murmured. “Even hearing you say ‘red light’ makes me want to poke deeper. See what street that light’s parked at.”

He leaned toward her, with only the counter separating them. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Haven’t you learned not to dare me?”

His laugh spilled out rich and full. Real. No playacting. “I kind of liked the results last time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Kind of?”

“Okay, immensely.” His eyelids drooped to half-mast then he tacked on a “Ma’am.”

Oh, there it was. That lovely, tingling rush of
yes, more
. She liked that entirely too much. “Come around here.”

He obeyed immediately, but every step was measured. Calculated. The bastard knew exactly what his body did to her.

When Mike was finally standing in front of her, she opened her knees. Slowly. She still held the hem of his T-shirt down over her pussy, where deep heat bloomed. Easing her heels over the rung of the stool, she slid forward on the seat. Her bare ass skipped along the leather.

“On your knees.” Her voice had gone husky, but she managed to keep it sharp. Cool.

He dropped and steadied his hands behind her knees.

She cracked his knuckles with a little pop. “Did I give you permission to touch me?”

“No, ma’am.” He slanted his gaze up at her. “Not yet.”

Leah couldn’t help but laugh. “No, not yet.” Her body was flickering to life, more every second. She lifted the T-shirt. “But
now
, Michael. Lick me. Make me come.”

Between being assigned to the 64
^th
and his subsequent relocation, Mike hadn’t been in the cockpit of a jet for six weeks. Didn’t matter. Not right then. The rush of Leah’s demand and the sight of her pussy in full daylight hit him like the smack of adrenaline at take-off. The neatly trimmed triangle of hair hid so many secrets. Her excitement, however, was not one of them. Wetness glistened along the supple skin of her inner thighs.

He didn’t shake, didn’t fold—not under the rigors of combat. But her exposed cunt and soft command stripped the resilience from his body.

The linoleum of his kitchen floor was hard, cold, unyielding against his bare knees. He focused on that small bite of discomfort to keep his eagerness in check. She was open for him, offering him the taste he hadn’t been able to forget.

He nestled his mouth along the smooth hollow on the inside of her knee. A tingling thrill arrowed down his spine when she flinched, her exhalation already ragged. The tiny signs of her jacked arousal were enough to keep him calm and submissive. Anything she wanted,
anything
, as long as she doled out the quiet assurances that she was just as whacked-out greedy.

With his tongue, he traced the graceful line of her quads, stopping to re-wet his tongue three times. Each time he stayed put and paid extra attention to that swath of skin. Kissing. Opening his mouth. Scraping his teeth.

Leah had stayed motionless until then, when her hands scooped lightly over his shoulders. A gentle petting to start. Only as Mike eased nearer to her center did her caresses turn to keen, deep strokes. The nubs of her fingernails raced shivers up his nape, into his hair, peppering goose bumps over his scalp.

The tendons along her inner thighs were as taut as cables. He focused on just one, to start. One perfect leg. He slid his hands over and around the resilient muscle, pulling the skin until it stretched tight. That’s where he placed his mouth. No gentle caress of tongue and teeth—not this time. He sucked hard.

Leah tensed on a gasp. Her fingertips became dull daggers needling the caps of his shoulders.

Mike kept that pressure steady, sucking, taking more of her flesh into his mouth. She relented first, when two rough hands took hold of his ears. She wrenched his face to look upward.

“What did I tell you to do, pretty boy?”

“Make you come.”