Guns & Dusty Roads: The Iron Brotherhood Series (7 page)

And Cross had kept on talking to her, sitting so close that she couldn’t think of anything else.  Not her mission, not her vaunted professionalism, nothing but the faint scent of motor oil and grease, of comfortable, well-worn leather, of road dust and honest sweat that came from his body, coupled with the faintest little hint of clean aftershave. 

No, not Cross, Kara thought to herself, the words rising up out of the boiling stew of wordless desire that had overwhelmed her mind like a floater in a pot of water. 

Christopher.

Christopher Rhodes, that was his name.  Somehow, she’d managed to cling to that one thought as the rest of the bar dissolved. 

Christopher was the man kissing her neck, his lips soft and insistent against her as he knelt beneath her on the bed.  Kara had her legs spread wide, straddling his lap.  When she bore down against him, she could feel him pushing back, hard and insistent.

Christopher was the one with a bulge pushing up against her, betraying exactly what he wanted to do to her - and what she wanted from him - as his hands crawled their way up across the skin of her back, beneath her shirt. 

Christopher was the one whose questing fingers had now found the strap of her bra - and in a single little fluid motion, clicked it free.  Kara felt the loosening around her ribs, the straps already sliding down off of her shoulders.

She paused, lifting her arms, and Cross - Christopher - tugged the shirt free. 

Now, they were both naked from the waist up, their hands running joyously over each other’s bodies in a furor of exploration.  Cross could feel her softness, even as she admiringly stroked his hardness.

Christopher leaned forward, pressing down on her as their lips locked together once again.  Kara felt her balance shift backwards, until she landed on the bed, the biker catching himself only just above her.  As they had rolled, that hard length in his pants had come up, rubbing at her hips, reminding her that she was still wearing far too many clothes.

For that matter, so was this man.  Kara’s hands scurried downward, across those hard muscles, until they found the snap at the waist of Cross’s jeans.  That had to go.  She popped it with a twist, cursing how drink made her fingers feel so clumsy.

The man was waiting just inside of those pants, already almost bursting out - as soon as Kara broke the tight waist cinch, he almost exploded out, into her hand.  Even through the thin, soft cotton of the man’s boxers, she could feel him, pulsing and hot.

It only took a single yank to free him, and then he was fully out, big and pink and right there in her hands, full of charged sexual aggression.

But Kara would show him.  She could be just as forward.

She lifted her legs up, wrapping them around Cross’s waist.  Still focused on kissing her as his hands groped at her chest, tracing delicate little patterns over the swell of her breasts and occasionally flicking across the sensitive surface of her nipples, the man didn’t notice her shift in grip - until Kara flicked her whole body sideways, rolling them both over so that she gained the upper position.

On top of the man, Kara spun around, even though the sudden motion brought up a bout of dizziness.  But the dizziness passed, her stomach settling back down, and she found herself sitting reverse cowgirl astride this biker, straddling him like he was a motorcycle himself as she stared down at the massive tool between his legs, lolling and exposed.

Cross’s hand slid up over the little bumps of her spine, ever so gently pushing her forward, down, towards where he wanted her.  He wasn’t forcing her - but it was deliberate, towards what he needed to feel.

“It’s been a while,” Kara said, feeling suddenly as though she had to make an excuse in case she didn’t measure up.  “I might be rusty.”

“I don’t care.”  Unlike her tone, Cross sounded confident, big and deep and rich and powerful.  He was completely assured.

Kara bent closer, her head only inches from the man’s hips.  Gently, remembering hazy memories of her years back in college, she wrapped her fingers around the base of Cross’s shaft, lifting it up so that it pointed at her.  It looked bigger than she remembered seeing before on other men.  Suddenly, Kara wasn’t sure she could even fit it in her mouth at all.

But she opened up and tried her best - and as her lips made contact, she felt the man beneath her shudder as a moan slipped out of his lips.

It took Kara a few minutes to get into the rhythm that she remembered, that gentle rise and full as she slid up and down, working both her fingers and her tongue.  It also didn’t help, in her fuzzy-headed state, that Cross was working behind her on tugging off her pants, pulling them down off of first one leg, and then the other. 

Kara didn’t pay much attention to his undressing of her - until, suddenly, his head was between her legs as she lay on top of him and sucked him off. 

A spark of wetness, of hot and humid warmth, bloomed down between her thighs.  Kara sat up, the cock falling from her mouth, as she gasped out loud.  “Oh god!” she cried out, unprepared for the sharpness of the pleasure that hit her.

“Mmm,” the man between her legs murmured, taking this for pleasure, redoubling his efforts.  Kara tried to do the same, tried to resume sucking on the now-slick bar that pressed up against her face and lips, but she couldn’t keep from gasping as little shocks went firing up her spine.

Oh god!  It had been so long!

The man clearly knew exactly what he was doing, his tongue immediately latching onto the sensitive little area just below her clit, flicking up to stimulate it without burning it out through overworking.  Kara did her best to reciprocate, to make him feel as good as he was doing to her, but it was hard when she kept on shuddering, losing all focus as she moaned on top of his body.

It only took minutes before those shudders grew more intense, before her panting hit a fever pitch.  This was it!  She couldn’t hold back, couldn’t keep her mind clamped down and in control, any longer!

For what felt like hours, Kara rode on a sea of pink-edged bliss.  The orgasm was overwhelming, flooding through every muscle of her body, making them clench up with sheer, exhaustive pleasure.  She was dimly aware that she was crying out, a long and sustained moan, but it felt as though it was coming from a stranger’s lips.

But as the orgasm died away, Cross slowing his efforts down between her legs and lifting up so that she slid around to lay across him, Kara needed more. 

She needed to feel this man fully, to have him all for herself.

And she knew, from the purpose and determination of how Cross’s hands held her, pushed her around so that he could claim her as his own, that he needed to feel it as well.

Cross rose up, almost explosively, lifting her up.  Kara rolled, landing once again on her back on the bed.  A second later, the man was on her, their lips meeting once more as he took his place in between her legs.  She could feel the length of his cock, pressing against her stomach.  It was itching to be inside of her, where she needed it.

But suddenly, the room lurched alarmingly, and a gurgle rose up from Kara’s stomach.

Oh no.  Not now.

Arms flailing, she pushed Cross off, managed to get up to a sitting position.  Far from helping, however, this movement merely aggravated the queasiness now coursing through her, and she felt her gorge rising. 

Finally, Kara remembered why she tried to avoid drinking when possible.

On Cross’s face, burning desire was suddenly mixed with concern, as he saw her shaking, her eyes closed, trying to keep control.  “Bathroom?” he asked, his voice still husky with the arousal that had been controlling him only moments earlier.

Not trusting herself to speak, Kara nodded.

Cross grabbed her elbow, helping her to her feet.  Kara’s stomach gave another disturbing, foreboding lurch, but she managed to stagger out of the bedroom, across the hallway, with Cross helping her the entire way.

Finally, she spotted a toilet, the cold porcelain suddenly welcoming.  Almost bonelessly, Kara pitched forward, feeling her stomach give way, rising up her throat.  She couldn’t hold back any longer.

For the next few minutes, Kara tried to not think about her situation, about what was happening.

Behind her, Cross stuck around for a minute or two, but then he shuffled his feet.  “I’ll be back across the hall,” he said awkwardly, in between retches coming from the FBI agent on the floor.  “All your stuff is in there - just duck back across, the door will be unlocked.” 

And then he withdrew.

With Cross gone, as she cleared her stomach of any remaining alcohol that might be hiding there, Kara felt her head start to clear a bit, as well.  There was still fuzziness, but her thoughts were at least starting to be heard again.

Most of those thoughts were quite negative.

She had totally lost control!  She was supposed to be undercover, working hard to find out who was smuggling guns into this country, costing innocent lives!  She had a cover here, albeit a flimsy one, and she was putting it at risk by getting intimate with Cross. 

He was an outsider, a criminal, and she barely knew him!  Hell, she didn’t even know if she could trust him, aside from Grazer’s word.  She was already taking on a hell of a risk - and there was definitely no need to bring emotion or lust into the crucible.

Kara rose up from the cold tile floor of the bathroom, wiping her mouth off as she flushed the toilet once more.  Now that the haze of lust had faded, she was uncomfortably aware of her nakedness, and how she was in what was likely a shared bathroom.

What had Cross said?  His room was just across the hallway, and the door was open?

He might have the wrong idea, be expecting her to return and fuck him.

Well, he would be disappointed.  Agent Sybil was only returning to maintain her cover - and, she regretfully mentally added, because her clothes were there.

Kara stepped out into the hallway from the bathroom, spotting a door right across the hallway.  Bingo.  She stepped forward - but not fast enough.

“Woohoo!  Looking hot, girl!”

A scarlet blush shot instantly into Kara’s cheeks.  She glanced over to her left, and saw Gimli, standing at the far end of the corridor, swaying slightly on his feet.

“Cross is a lucky bastard!” he called out, waving one hand in a toast to her.  He was still holding a can of beer, Kara spotted, suds slopping over the lip.  “Got any friends as hot as you?”

Her cheeks glowing red, Kara didn’t respond, hurrying into Cross’s room.

Inside, the man was reclining on the bed, still gloriously naked.  He glanced up, a little smile on his lips, as Kara entered.  “Feeling better?” he asked.

Instead of replying right away, Kara looked down, spotting her overnight bag at the foot of the bed.  Perfect.  “Back to my senses,” she replied, as she pulled a tee shirt and boxers out of the bag.  “And ready to go to sleep.  We’ve got a long day of finding evidence tomorrow.”

Cross didn’t say a word as she got dressed in the sleepwear and crawled into the bed beside him.  Unfortunately, the bed was quite narrow, and Kara had no choice but to press up against the man’s naked length.  And she couldn’t hlep but notice that he was still somewhat erect - probably from ogling her as she put on her pajamas.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Kara said out loud, facing away from Cross.  “I lost control.  It was a mistake.”

She almost wished that the biker would try and argue.  Frustrated, both with how she had lost control and with how she could still feel her body’s arousal, Kara was suddenly on edge, ready for a fight.

But Cross merely reached up and flicked off the lights, rolling over so his back was pressed against Kara’s.  In just minutes, she heard his breath deepen as he slipped out of consciousness.

But for FBI Special Agent Kara Sybil, lying in an unfamiliar bed next to a naked man that inspired all sorts of previously dormant feelings, sleep was slow in coming.

CHAPTER 9

The first thought in Special Agent Kara Sybil’s mind when she woke up was the next morning was that she had to be at her peak performance today - there could be no mistakes.

The second thing that came to her mind after she woke up was a splitting, deeply penetrating, almost crippling pain, reaching far into the recesses of her brain.

And that pain wasn’t helped by the bright sunlight, streaming in through the half-open blinds of the window across the room from the bed.

Squeezing her eyes shut against that bright light, Kara groaned, rolling over.  Why did mornings have to even exist?  Why couldn’t everyone just agree to not start handling life until a more civilized hour, maybe like just before noon? 

As she rolled over, grabbing at the sheets and trying to tug them up to cover her head and shield herself against the sunlight, Kara collided with something lying next to her.

Something warm, and large, and surprisingly comfortable.

She was already starting to curl up against it when, like a bolt of lightning, the memory of what - or rather, who - was lying next to her returned.

Forget coffee.  That memory, by itself, was enough to send Kara sitting up bolt upright, her eyes flying open even despite the pain of the hangover.