Perfect Duet Page 3

  Brushing his fingers along her lips, he shuddered at the slickness there. So ready. So fucking ready for him to slip inside her. Fingers, tongue, cock. He craved for each to go into her heat.

  This woman was fucking incredible. Her eyes were locked on his and he couldn’t ever unsee the raw desire they held for him. His touch.

  With his index finger, he pushed into her slit and watched her full lips part on a not-so-silent gasp.

  “Christ, you’re so fucking tight.” He pumped one finger until he added a second. “You’re going to fucking choke my cock.”

  Moving his mouth so it rested on hers, he stared down into her swirling gaze. Their breaths mingled as he continued thrusting his digits within her molten heat. Her muscles throbbed around him and she worked her hips, trying to keep him in deep when he withdrew.

  Xahara suddenly grabbed his arm.

  “Need something, Dove?”

  “Let me come.”

  “I’m not holding you back.” He flicked his tongue over her lips. “Let go, Dove. Let go and I promise I’ll catch you.”

  Not pausing in his strokes, he pushed his thumb on her clit and rotated it. That was what she needed—her entire body bowed as she came, hard. Her release coating his fingers as her eyes bled to black.

  Fuck, he wanted to sink his cock into her and ride out the ripples of her pussy as it milked him.

  “Beautiful.”

  Eyes a bit hazy as she refocused on him, she took a few moments. “What is?”

  He kissed her again. “You, when you come. If you’re like this around my fingers, you’re going to kill me when my cock is inside you.”

  “There’s still time.”

  God, he wanted to take her up on that, but he didn’t trust Paul enough to enjoy fully the woman lying in his arms.

  “Not nearly enough for what I want to do to you, Dove. I don’t trust that asshole and I’m not about to have him come storming in while I’m dick deep in this pussy of mine.” He pumped his wrist again, driving deep and wringing another moan and sexy pant from her.

  Bending over her more, he gripped her hair and flexed his hold, putting her where he wanted her.

  “Sleep, Dove. This is going to get worse before it gets better.” He claimed her lips as he removed his hand from her slit.

  “Who are you?” Her eyes were tired, and he knew it was a mix of the orgasm and being shot. “I mean, who are you really?”

  “Some days, I’m not sure anymore.”

  He kissed her eyelids and held her tight as she fell asleep. Who are you, Dove? And why have you become so fucking important to me in such a short time?

  Chapter Three

  The door bounced open with a loud bang.

  Xahara looked up from where she sat cross-legged on the bed. She remembered that she no longer wore her sweater but one of Jager’s shirts. Being surrounded by his scent was doing strange things to her. He had gone to shower and she’d sat here. After searching unsuccessfully for his cell phone, she’d settled in and decided to wait it out. She couldn’t find a gun either.

  Even now her body hummed from that orgasm he’d given her. Fuck, no man should be that talented with just his fingers. She’d not said no when he’d tossed another shirt in her direction and taken her bloody sweater. While he’d been silent, his eyes had told her in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t supposed to leave the room.

  Not that she’d planned on it. So, after not finding a way to get word to her cousins and the cops, she’d settled back on the mattress he’d fingered her to orgasm on, nearly two hours prior.

  At the intrusion, she lifted her head to find Mindy and Paul in the doorway. There was a feeling of smugness when she looked at the swelling on Mindy’s face. Bitch deserved it.

  “Where is he?”

  Paul was a man who set every instinct of hers on edge and she watched him with caution. She may have been injured and at a disadvantage, but she wasn’t going to go down quietly.

  She lifted an eyebrow, because she could hear the shower fine, then jerked her thumb in that direction.

  Mindy glowered at her. She was dangerous as well, but not as much as Paul. Xahara was grateful when the water shut off and Jager appeared in the doorway to the bathroom not much later. For more than one reason.

  Holy fuck, he was hot. Defined abs and pecs were covered with an array of tattoos. His muscular arms had them as well, even up to his neck. His jeans were undone and rode low on lean hips.

  In one hand he held a towel up by his face, and she almost melted when he flicked her a glance and she could read his concern for her wellbeing in there. She gave him a slight smile.

  “Get out, Mindy.” Paul’s order was followed by a few curses and him shoving her out of the room with a vicious, “Bitch, you’re mine, and I’m about to come fuck your ass to make sure you remember who you belong to.”

  Interesting.

  “Some reason you’re back in my room?” Challenge fell from Jager’s lips as he strode in, commanding the asshole’s full attention.

  Xahara got it. Any man would be concerned with the way their woman looked at Jager. Dude was just so fucking everything.

  Even so, the aggression pouring off the two of them was dangerous. All it would take would be some small spark and the war would erupt. She looked between the men and narrowed her gaze slightly at the way Jager was holding the towel. It took her a moment to figure it out, but he had sidearm in there.

  You are far more than you share with everyone, Jager. What is your story? Why did you save me and what exactly are you doing here?

  Her initial thought was ‘undercover’, but even if he were, he wouldn’t tell her that. She didn’t think this Paul would have anyone in his crew who’d have had a sudden attack of conscience when they’d stumbled on her. Many different thoughts of where he truly belonged, but they all swung back around to her thinking ‘undercover’.

  Were she an outsider and not the one who was depending on Jager’s acting skills to convince this cutthroat group that she was essential to him, she would buy it. He was blatant about his possession of her. The kisses were real, as was that toe-curling orgasm he’d delivered with the heated promise of more.

  “What do you want, Paul?”

  “We’re all meeting in the living room. Moving out early.”

  “Fine.” The man didn’t move, and Jager growled low in his throat. “I don’t give a fuck if you want to stand there while I’m naked and look your fill, but I don’t let anyone see my woman without clothes on. I’m possessive that way, and as she’s going to change, you need to leave.”

  “Don’t fucking make me wait.” Paul left, the door slamming behind him again.

  Jager tossed the towel over his shoulder and pushed the Glock into the back of his pants. After going to a bag by the dresser, he opened it then pulled out a shirt, and tugged it over his head.

  Her lips twitched at the phrase on the back surrounding an image of a man straddling a motorcycle.

  You’d be loud too if I was straddling you.

  Yeah, she couldn’t argue with that logic. Pretty sure he’d proven that.

  “Keep your head down, Dove. Don’t try any heroics. Shit is going to get dicey and I’ll keep you safe, but you have to listen to me.” He tossed another shirt in her direction that she caught. “Put that one on.”

  Standing, she pulled off his other shirt, aware that he was watching her with unerring astuteness. There was no reason for her to be shy. He’d fixed her injury and undressed her then.

  Plus the man has given me one hell of an orgasm and I don’t even know his last name.

  She allowed the smile to flicker as she tugged on the shirt. Her side ached but wasn’t as bad as it should have been. Perhaps he’d given her some meds for the pain. She wouldn’t be running any marathons, but she could function without crying. A win in SWAT world. And hopefully without alerting their mutual enemies that she’d been injured. Then again, he could fucking be playing her. Who knew?

&nb
sp; Dropping her stare, she took in the words on the shirt and lifted her gaze to his. “Really?”

  He didn’t appear the least bit sheepish. “I think it looks great on you.”

  The dark gray shirt had in black Property of Jager on it, and below that, in a lighter color, it had who’s da J-Bizzle. After that, there was an exploding bomb.

  “Thank god you’re not arrogant or anything.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Telling me I don’t have every right to be cocky?”

  Fuck no. Even with the low timbre of his words, her body was once again primed to cascade over the edge. She struggled to keep herself in control. He beckoned her close and it wasn’t until she was flush to him that she realized, once again, that she’d obeyed without even contemplating the consequences of those very actions.

  Jager pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket, rolled it and as she stared at him, used it to pull her hair up to pile on top of her head, away from her face. She didn’t blink as he tied it off and allowed the loose ends to dangle a bit over her temple, not enough to affect her visually—he was good.

  “Not bad.”

  “And you learned to do this how?”

  His eyes twinkled even as he checked his sidearm. “Can’t give away all my secrets now, can I?”

  “One wouldn’t kill you,” she muttered as he shoved the gun into the back of his pants.

  “You might.”

  Her grin bordered on feral. “Very true.”

  He opened the door, tucked her beside him and headed up the hall. Seconds before they walked into the room where the others were waiting, he muttered against the shell of her ear, “Follow my lead.”

  It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, but he could have tossed her to the smarmy wolves before her already, and yet for whatever reason, he’d kept her alive and claimed her as his own. She owed him for that, at least.

  Jager walked to the table, hooked his foot around a chair and yanked it out. He sank down, and when she stepped away, he snared her around the waist and pulled her so she perched on his lap.

  “Stay,” he grumbled.

  Tempting as it was to give a woof as if she were a dog he was ordering around, she held her tongue and did her best to behave. Something that totally went against her typical style. He snaked his arm around her and settled with his hand on the inside of her upper thigh. She had to bite her cheek to keep her moan contained.

  This was going to be hell, whatever they were about to do.

  Jager didn’t like the ominous feel that circled the room. It poked and dodged around, hyping up the tension with every second that passed.

  What he did like, and what was fucking distracting, was her firm thigh beneath his palm. His fingers itched to move up a bit more and indulge in what they’d done in the bedroom.

  Holy fuck, this woman was incredible. The way her pussy had clamped on him before was enough to make a man of the cloth give it up. He’d never even come close to being that pious. And he wanted her. Stretched out before him, beneath him, anywhere he could have her. She was dangerous.

  Problem was, he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to give her up. Fuck no. Especially now, when there was so much more for him to learn about her.

  The two drivers were there but he barely looked at them, keeping his eyes on Paul. The man was squirrely. More so than usual, and that set him on edge. The way Xahara was sitting, she had eyes behind him. He trusted her. In his line of work, that could be dangerous to do with someone he’d just met, but he had a knack for getting people right.

  So long as it wasn’t the pussy that swayed him in her favor, he’d be fine.

  No way. That wasn’t it. At least not all.

  Mindy and Travis were milling around in the back, and he hid his smile when Xahara smoothed her hand along his spine. Yeah, this woman was far more than she appeared. Out of all of them in the room, she had his trust. Not the ones he’d been part of a crew with for the past two months.

  “What’s the hold up with my cut?” he demanded, squeezing the inside of her thigh because he wanted to and because he loved how she trembled beneath his touch.

  “Keep your fucking britches on, Jager.”

  “Fuck you,” he snarked. “I’m not wanting to keep sitting on my ass while the cops are looking for us. Your gorillas there already fired their weapons, so they’re going to be looking hard for us. Why? Because they needed to get off. I. Want. My. Cut.”

  “I have it, but we have to talk. Which means, crew only. Your bitch needs to go.”

  Another flex of his fingers and he moved them away from her pussy to smack her on the ass. “Grab my bag, Dove. We’ll head out in a few moments.”

  Without a word, she slipped off his lap and turned to walk out of the room.

  He grabbed her and pulled her back to him. She stumbled into his lap and he kissed her, moaning into her mouth as her taste once again spread over his tongue, invigorating him, teasing him.

  Her eyes burned, and he was fairly certain his were the same as she looked at him. “Try not to miss me too much.”

  She blinked and walked away. He watched her leave the room and noticed the death glare she received from Mindy but didn’t give a fuck. That bitch had nothing remotely entertaining for him.

  “What?”

  “These two, while they were out, came upon some news.”

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he knew it wasn’t going to be anything good. Even so, he didn’t reach for his gun, nor did he look anything other than relaxed.

  “You going to tell me or are we playing twenty questions?”

  “Word on the street is you’re a cop.”

  “Word on the street is you’re an honest guy. We all know that’s not true, because you’d slit your own mother’s throat if you thought you’d earn some cash for the action.”

  “You a fucking badge?” Paul thundered at him, spittle flying from his lips.

  Jager sat still for about thirty seconds, then he exploded up with a roar. “Fuck you! I didn’t come seek you out. I didn’t ask to be part of your little group. I was minding my own motherfucking business on a beach when you approached me. And now, because your drivers heard some shit on the street, you’re doubting me?”

  Paul blanched as Jager kicked the table away so nothing was between them any longer.

  “Answer me, damn it!”

  The other four all had weapons on him, but they didn’t look like they were going to do anything without an express order from Paul. Honestly, that man looked like he was about to piss himself.

  Displeased with the lack of words coming from the so-called boss, he whipped his focus to the drivers. “Where’d you hear it, or is this some fucking ploy to get my cut?” He narrowed his eyes and was in front of the closest one with three long steps.

  Throwing his arm over his throat, he backed him up to the window and yanked the bag from him. “Fuck you, motherfucker.”

  “Put it down,” Paul said, his voice shaky but growing stronger.

  “No.”

  “Why don’t you put it down?”

  Every one of them turned to find Xahara holding an automatic rifle on them. Well, Paul, more than anything. Across her shoulder and back was his bag.

  “Fucking shoot the bitch.”

  “Anyone moves and it’s you I kill.” Her words were icy, fearless and sure.

  He may have just had a bit of premature ejaculation at that—it was so fucking hot. Whipping around so Matt, the driver, was in front of him to take a bullet, he shouldered the bag of money and gems before inching his way toward her.

  The tension in the room bubbled on volatile and he wanted to be far away from here with her.

  “Only taking one bag?”

  “Don’t fucking push your luck, Paul. You’re lucky that’s all I’m taking. Facedown, on the floor and weapons to me.”

  They hesitated. His woman didn’t. She put a single slug right through Paul’s shoulder and he cried out in pain and anger.


  “Bitch!”

  “On the floor,” she echoed Jager. “The longer it takes, the less chance you have of a full recovery.”

  Curses that went to his children’s grandchildren fell from their lips, but all five followed her command. Even Matt hit the floor without much complaint. Jager closed the door, having collected their weapons and put them in a different room, after taking them apart.

  “Now?” he whispered to Xahara.

  “I suggest we get the fuck out of here before they realize that was the only bullet I had in this gun.”

  Fisting his hand in the shirt she wore, he then yanked her close and kissed her. Then he dragged her to the door and used the now empty and otherwise useless gun to wedge it shut from the outside. Together they thundered down the stairs toward what would hopefully be freedom, but he had to admit, their chances were slim.

  Paul ran a big crew and most of them were mean. Sure, he was meaner and chances were so was his woman but they were only two against the larger crew. As his feet hit the asphalt, he grabbed her hand and lengthened his stride. Thankfully she kept up.

  A few streets over and he heard the wheezing in her breath. Pausing, he glanced around and located what he needed. A biker was at a light and they went straight up to him. Jager pulled a gun and gestured for him to get off.

  Seconds later, they were racing through traffic on the crotch rocket. No helmets, but at least she was holding on to him and they were safe.

  For now.

  He took them out of town, until the city and its suburbs gave way to a four-lane country road. A few more twists and turns and that became a two-lane. He slowed at the edge of a long driveway leading up to an old farmhouse that looked deserted.

  “Let’s see if anyone is home.”

  He parked the bike in the barn so no one could see it and together they headed up to the main house, the evening slowly segueing into night as stars began to dot the velvet sky.

  Holding her hand, Jager knocked on the door. Twice.

  No answer, so he tried the handle and walked in when the door swung that way. They were in an old kitchen and he watched her in the shadows as she took his bag off her body and placed it on the large table. He followed suit with the one he’d been carrying.