The doorbell rings mere seconds later. “Aargh.” I stalk across the main room, unable to handle more deliveries. “Make it stop.” I swing the door open, aggravated.
“I’ll make it stop, sweetheart.” Hawke stands before me, clad in his ugly black T-shirt, his faded blue jeans, and big army boots, his tanned skin covered with a sheen of moisture as though he ran the entire way. He’s big and broad, a mountain of a man, and there’s no one I trust more with righting my world.
“Hawke.” I throw myself at him, my heart pounding.
He catches my smaller body, cups my ass, and lifts me upward, pressing me against his solid form, the barbed wire tattoo encircling his right bicep rippling.
“I’m here.” Hawke walks into the condo, carrying me easily, and I link my fingers behind his neck, never wanting to let him go. “Everything will be okay,” he assures me as he kicks the door shut behind him.
“I don’t know how anything will ever be okay again,” I mumble into his neck, inhaling his unique scent, a combination of engine grease, leather, and man. “I’ve put my best friend in danger.” I gaze up at his rugged countenance, the silver scar on his chin a reminder of his difficult life. “I—”
Hawke covers my lips with his, the force of his kiss driving my head back, evaporating my thoughts and tightening my nipples. I open to him, welcoming my badass biker into my mouth, our tongues dueling, dancing, drawing us together, meshing us into one being.
My fingers spread over his skull, his hair short and soft under my palms. Hawke’s chest flattens my breasts. His defined abs undulate against my fabric-covered pussy, the pressure exciting me. He strokes into me, the stubble on his chin blazing a trail across my skin, and I respond with no inhibitions, sucking on his tongue as I wish to suck on his cock, tasting him, savoring him.
There’s no fear of Hawke judging me, rejecting me. He embraces my wild nature, encourages my perversions. With him, I’m safe, accepted, worthy.
He falls backward, his ass smacks against the leather couch cushion, and I bounce on top of him, the contact driving my arousal upward. His massive hands slide up my back, the friction delightful. I arch, rubbing my taut nipples against him, frustrated by the layers of clothing between us.
He breaks our kiss and rests his forehead against mine, the tips of our noses touching, both of us breathing heavily. “Who are you thinking about, love?”
“What?” I blink at him, my brain fuzzy with passion.
Hawke smiles his lopsided smile, his white teeth flashing in his tanned face. “Exactly.” He nips my bottom lip. “When we kiss, you don’t think about anyone else.”
~~ * ~ ~
Hawke and I might have only this encounter. I slide down his body and kneel on the floor between his spread legs. He’s large, dominant, mine, and I will please him. I release Hawke’s belt and he inhales sharply, his words stopping midsentence.
“I’ll call you back,” he barks, switching to plain English. I rub my palms over the bulge in his jeans, relishing the length and width of him, the denim soft and worn. He’s large all over, more man than I know how to handle.
“You don’t have to do this.” Hawke lifts my chin, his finger rough against my skin, his grip light. “I don’t expect anything.” His eyes reflect his concern, my honorable military man always seeking to do the right thing. “I’ll protect you even if you never touch me again.”
“I know that.” I meet his gaze squarely, not hiding my passion and my respect. He safeguards me with no expectation of profit or gratitude, would kill for me if that was necessary. I lick my bottom lip and he tracks this movement, his gaze thrillingly intense.
“I want to do this.” I pop the buttons on his fly, one by one, the sound loud in the quiet condo, a signal of intent. Part of me knows once I do this, once I taste this intimate part of him, there will be no turning back. I don’t care, past the point of thinking, of caution.
“You’re so damn perfect for me.” Hawke brushes my hair away from my face, his huge body shaking. I reach between the denim and curl my fingers around his hard shaft. His veins pulse under my palms, as alive and virile as the man I’m holding.
“Belinda.” Beads of sweat rise on his forehead.
He won’t last long. I yank on his waistband, wanting to see all of him, and he raises his ass, helps me pull his jeans to his ankles. His cock juts from a base of brown hair. His balls hug his shaft. His thigh muscles flex, his muscles defined.
I run my fingertips over him, tracing him from tip to base, and he bobs, precum forming over his slit. “You should work, keep Cyndi safe.” I nuzzle against his balls, inhaling his musky scent, and he mumbles incoherent words.
“Hawke?” I lift one eyebrow, knowing damn well I’ve fried his brain.
“She’s safe.” He breathes hard, his chest rising and falling, his voice strained. “The situation is under control, love.”
That’s bullshit. I narrow my eyes as I pump him. Stalkers aren’t so easily dealt with, and I know from a lifetime of being the topic of gossip that the situation won’t ever be under control. Decades from now, there will be people who think I’m a whore.”
“Everyone has secrets they don’t want exposed,” Hawke adds, reading my doubts as he always does. “Even your stalkers.”
“You’ll threaten them.” I nod, this explanation making more sense. My mom had nothing with which to threaten her verbal attackers. Hawke is paid to gather information on people, to uncover their secrets.
“I killed for my country.” He drifts his fingertips over my cheeks, his touch light, his skin rough. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”