Midnight Revenge

  • • •

  Forty-five minutes later, D pulled up to a cheap motel with a neon pink flamingo–shaped sign.

  Sofia breathed in relief when the car finally came to a stop. They were now in a beat-up pickup truck that D had hot-wired in the parking lot behind a grocery store, because it turned out her supersoldier was paranoid as hell; they’d switched cars four times since their escape from the marina, pulling over every ten minutes so D could secure them another ride.

  She’d quit complaining after the third switch. Truth was, she appreciated his caution. Adrenaline still burned in her blood from all the unwanted excitement she’d had to deal with today. She couldn’t believe that it had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d followed D to the airfield. And since then, she’d faced death more times than she could count.

  “You’ll need to check us in,” he said as he parked in front of the motel office.

  She gulped. “Why do I have to do it?”

  “We need to keep a low profile.” D gestured to the tattoos peeking from his collar and sleeves. “I’m not exactly low-profile.”

  Sofia couldn’t help but snicker. “How did you ever work undercover, then?”

  “This was my cover,” he said gruffly. “The tats came with the job.”

  “Oh.”

  He handed her the wad of cash she’d found in the glove box of their first vehicle—Paulo’s SUV. The man might be dead now, but she had to commend him for the thorough preparation he’d put into his exit plan.

  “It’ll be fine,” D assured her. “Nobody tailed us. But make sure to use a false name.”

  He was right. Renting the room was no trouble at all. In the guestbook, Sofia scribbled the first name that came to mind—the very original Jane Johns—and five minutes later, she was back at the car, dangling a room key in front of D’s open window.

  He slid out of the car, unfolding his six-foot-plus frame and rising to his full height. He walked ahead of her to their room, withdrawing his weapon as he approached the door.

  “Stay out here,” he ordered.

  He turned the key in the lock and disappeared through the shadowy doorway, returning less than a minute later and gesturing for her to come inside.

  Sofia barely had time to examine her surroundings before D moved back to the door. “Where are you going?” she squeaked in alarm.

  “I’m just hitting the discount store across the street. Figured we needed a change of clothes. And food. You definitely need food.” His dark eyes rested on her belly, and then he awkwardly glanced away. “Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  A moment later, he was gone, and even though she’d locked the door, Sofia didn’t relax until D returned twenty minutes later, carting two plastic shopping bags inside.

  The food selection was far from a gourmet feast—a dozen packages of ramen noodles, a box of crackers, and a stack of chocolate bars.

  “That’s all they had,” he muttered when her lips twitched in amusement.

  Luckily, the motel room had a kitchenette with a small microwave, and Sofia wasted no time heating up the noodles. She and D ate in silence. When her mind wandered back to everything Paulo had said before he’d died, she finally spoke.

  “Do you think Sullivan is alive?” she hedged. “Paulo said he released him, remember?”

  “I remember.” His eyes revealed nothing.

  “You think he was lying?”

  D took a sip from his water bottle, then said, “I think that unless I see Sullivan for myself, I need to operate under the assumption that he’s dead.”

  “Isn’t it better to operate under the hope that he’s alive?”

  “Hope is a waste of time, baby. Just leads to disappointment.”

  Her heart squeezed. God, what a sad way to live. She couldn’t imagine living her life without ever experiencing hope.

  She chewed her last cracker, then stood up and threw out their empty containers. “I think I’m going to take a shower.”

  D stayed at the table, nodding in response.

  Sofia headed for the bathroom door, but hesitated before walking through it. Uncertainty washed over her as she turned to look at D. He was expressionless, his shoulders rigid, and she suddenly found herself longing for the man who’d held her so tenderly in that cell. Who’d moved inside her while watching her with what she could only describe as reverence.

  “Do you . . .” She swallowed. “Do you want to join me?”

  His head lifted in surprise. And then a spark of heat lit his eyes. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.

  Neither of them spoke as they entered the bathroom together. Sofia had never been self-conscious about her body, but she was oddly nervous as she stripped off her sweaty tank top and dirt-streaked jeans. D had seen her naked before, so why were her hands trembling like she was about to lose her virginity?

  Without meeting her eyes, D yanked his T-shirt over his head, then undid his pants and let them drop to the tiled floor. Holy shit. He was naked. This was the first time she’d ever seen him naked, and her gaze ate him up, frantically trying to memorize every detail.

  He was . . . fucking beautiful. Long limbs and toned muscles, his skin sleek and golden, at least where it wasn’t covered with ink. The tattoos, especially the snake at the base of his neck, gave him a feral look. When he turned toward the shower, she saw the tattoo on his back and her breath hitched.

  Unable to fight her curiosity, she came up behind him and traced her fingers over the black tribal eagle spanning his upper back from shoulder to shoulder. Then she frowned, because beneath the majestic bird were tally marks. Black lines in groups of five, and one group of three. Forty-three in total.

  He flinched when she swept her fingers over the marks, and she quickly bit her tongue to stop herself from asking what the tally signified. After hearing about the significance of the dates on his wrists, she didn’t want to push him about this particular meaning. She was too afraid to know the answer.

  D turned on the water and stepped into the tub, tilting his head toward the spray. She stood there for a moment, watching the water slide down his powerful body. Her gaze landed on his backside. Jesus, even his ass was muscular, taut and round, the indentations at the sides of his buttocks revealing how strong of an ass it was.

  Desire pooled between her thighs. Her breathing quickened as she joined him under the spray and tugged the shower curtain closed. He turned around, his gaze locking with hers for a beat, before he reached for the bar of soap in the ceramic dish built into the wall.

  Sofia didn’t say a word as he lathered up his hands, but when those big palms suddenly touched her skin, she couldn’t stop a moan from slipping out. God, was he seriously going to—yes. Yes, he was.

  D ran his soapy hands down her arms, gently kneading her tingling flesh as he washed the day’s dirt and grime off her body. She would’ve called his touch methodical, professional even, if it weren’t for the heat burning in his eyes, the raw arousal that caused goose bumps to rise all over her body.

  He was hard. His thick erection jutted from his groin, the tip pressing into her belly, leaving streaks of his arousal in the sudsy rivulets traveling down her body.

  Before she could stop herself, she reached out and wrapped one hand around his cock, and he jerked as if she’d struck him.

  “I’m trying to be a gentleman.” His rueful voice was muffled by the rushing water.

  The pressure between her legs was so intense she could barely speak. “By running your hands all over my naked body? That’s not something a gentleman does, Derek. It’s something a tease does.”

  “I’m the tease?” he countered, lowering his gaze to where her hand was gently stroking his shaft.

  “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, tightening her grip.

  He made a husky noise. “No.” His eyes glittered with arousal. “I want you to make me come.”

  Sofia’s thighs clenched, the dampness between them slicking her core. She wanted t
o make him come too. So badly that her mouth tingled with the urge to take him inside. But she was too transfixed by the look in his eyes. If she got on her knees, she might miss the way his eyelids went heavy when she squeezed the crown of his cock. She might miss the glow of heat that shone in his eyes each time she rubbed the sensitive underside with the pad of her thumb.

  She stayed on her feet. The soapy water made it easy to glide her fist up and down his thick length, but she maintained a lazy tempo, smiling when he tried to thrust harder, faster. His flesh was satiny smooth, the heat of him searing her hand.

  His coal black eyes burned hotter, lips parting slightly as he stared at her. Not through her, the way he’d done so often in the past, but at her. He wasn’t watching what her hand was doing to his cock; he was watching her.

  Sofia’s heart soared at the knowledge that they’d reached another pivotal point. In the cell, she’d had to beg him to look at her. Now he was doing it freely, intensely.

  “Squeeze my dick, Sofia. Hard. I like it hard.”

  She felt the raspy command between her legs. Her clit was tight and swollen, throbbing painfully as it screamed for attention. She ignored the plea and grasped him tighter, pumped harder. The wet slap of her hand traveling over his cock mingled with the sound of the water rushing from the showerhead.

  D’s features creased as if in pain, his muscular forearm flexing as he braced it against the wall. His hips started to move, a fast, frantic snap as he thrust his cock into her fist.

  Sofia swallowed a moan when she saw the pleasure swimming in his eyes. “Tell me how much you like it,” she choked out. “Tell me what I do to you, Derek.”

  His voice was as choked as hers. “You make me . . . feel.” A growl flew out, echoing in the air. “My cock is so full it feels like it’s going to explode.” He groaned when she pressed her thumb on his tip and swirled it over the moisture seeping out of it. “My balls are aching. I . . .” Another groan.

  Sofia brought her other hand into play, kneading his tight sac as she pumped his shaft. “I want you to come. And I want you to look at me while you come.”

  It was a pointless request, because he wasn’t looking anywhere else. His gaze was glued to her face. He looked savage, agitated, completely out of control as his hips moved faster.

  “I’m coming,” he ground out, his features twisting in pleasure.

  God, he was. Soaking her hand with his release, his broad shoulders quaking as he climaxed with a groan that sent a thrill shooting through her. She’d broken his restraint, pushed her way through his steely defenses and made him come apart, and her reward was seeing him. Seeing him for the first time, seeing that guarded edge disappear from his eyes, seeing raw, unsullied emotion take its place.

  “Jesus.” D shook his head, looking disoriented and visibly shaken. “What the fuck do you do to me, Sofia?”

  I make you feel.

  Her heartbeat stuttered as she absorbed the thought. He’d said it himself—You make me feel.

  Maybe it made her the cockiest bitch on the planet, but she realized in that moment how true it was. She affected this man in a way nobody else ever had. For some inexplicable reason, she had power over him.

  “Come on,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “The water’s getting cold.”

  He was noticeably wobbly as they stepped out of the shower. Struggling to gain her composure, Sofia grabbed two clean towels from the rack and handed him one. The notion that she affected D was unsettling, because it came with another realization: he affected her too.

  She felt safe with him. She felt . . . at ease. Which was all kinds of fucked up, because nothing about this man should make her feel at ease. His hard personality, his dangerous profession. Everything about him should make her want to run far, far away, and yet she could honestly say that she’d never felt more at peace than when she was with him, even when they were outrunning bullets or locked in a prison cell.

  What the hell did that mean, damn it?

  “Sofia.”

  He mumbled her name as they left the bathroom. She stopped at the foot of the bed, turning to look at him. “Yeah?”

  “Can I go down on you?”

  She blinked, fighting equal doses of shock and humor. Had he seriously just asked her that?

  “I, uh, don’t usually like foreplay,” he added when she didn’t answer. His expression was sheepish. “Mostly because I’ve never cared about making anyone else feel good.”

  “Oh. Um . . .”

  “But it’s different with you.”

  He shrugged, and droplets of water slid from his throat to his pecs. His very defined pecs. God, the man was ripped.

  “I want to make you feel good,” he finished.

  Holy hell, Derek Pratt was . . . cute. So fucking cute that it summoned a laugh from her throat.

  His expression darkened. “It’s funny that I want to lick your pussy?”

  The crude words made her heartbeat race. Oh wow. Just when she thought he was cute, he turned around and became wicked.

  “No, it’s not funny.” She swallowed. “It’s . . . God, I want you to do that. Do it. Please.”

  Chapter 22

  D’s mouth ran dry as Sofia untucked the front of her towel and let the terry cloth drop to the floor. She put her naked body on display for him, and holy fuck, what a display it was. Endless stretches of perfect curves and smooth, bronzed skin, and her tits looked fuller to his eyes, making him wonder if that had something to do with the preg—

  He banished the thought before it could surface, refusing to let his mind wander in that direction. He’d been making a pointed effort not to think about it, not to second-guess the decision he’d made about not being part of the kid’s life.

  “Derek?” She raised one eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be making me feel good?”

  The naughty twinkle in her eyes made his cock twitch. There were so many other matters he should be concentrating on at the moment. Contacting his team. Making arrangements to get out of Mexico.

  But right now, all he wanted was to bury his face between Sofia’s legs.

  “Lie down,” he rasped.

  Her hips moved seductively as she went over to the bed, where she stretched out on her back, her dark hair fanning over the fluffy pillow beneath her head.

  “Lift one knee up.”

  She did what he’d asked, and his throat went even drier. He now had a perfect view of her pussy, pink and delicate and glistening with excitement.

  His cock responded again. His balls began to tingle, but not as badly as the way his mouth tingled, his tongue pulsing with the need to taste her.

  He ditched his own towel and strode naked to the foot of the bed, not missing the way Sofia’s gaze zeroed in on his erection. He almost reached down and gave his dick a stroke or two, just to ease the growing ache in his balls, but he resisted the urge. Instead he slid down to his knees, circled both hands around Sofia’s shapely ankles, and gave them a tug.

  She squeaked as he dragged her down the mattress so her ass was right at the edge. So her pussy was inches from his mouth.

  “Slow?” he asked, searching her passion-drenched eyes. “Fast?”

  “I don’t care. Just make me come.”

  Her bossiness triggered a grin. He’d always appreciated that about her, the way she didn’t mince words or play games. She spoke her mind and made her intentions known. Made her demands known.

  D rested one hand on her left thigh, absently sweeping his palm over it. Her skin quivered beneath his touch. Her eyes grew hazier.

  “Tease,” she mumbled in accusation.

  Still grinning, he lowered his head and licked a firm line from the top of her slit to her opening. Then he shoved his tongue inside her.

  Sofia’s hips shot off the bed, a startled cry leaving her lips. “Oh my God.”

  Fuck, she tasted good. The softest trace of soap, and something addictively feminine. Bracing his hands on her thighs, he pushed his tongue deeper, the
n swirled it around her opening before licking his way back up. When his lips brushed over her clit, she moaned and reached for his head, clamping her hands around his scalp to trap him in place.

  Chuckling, D easily slipped out of her grasp and started kissing her inner thigh.

  “Totally a tease,” she whispered.

  “You fucking love this,” he whispered back. Then he bit her thigh and was rewarded with a delighted gasp.

  Jesus, he was harder than he’d ever been, yet in no rush to bury himself inside her. He was enjoying himself too much. Enjoying the silkiness of her skin under his tongue, the slick folds beneath his lips. And the sounds she was making. The breaths and the gasps and the purrs. He fucking loved it.

  He teased her for as long as his patience allowed, which wasn’t long at all, because he was dying to suck on her clit. So he did. Deep, hungry pulls that had Sofia squirming on the bed, begging for more, groaning for him not to stop, never to stop.

  As he suckled her swollen clit, he pushed one finger inside her, then another, filling her with both. Fucking her with them as he flattened his tongue and started licking her clit in earnest.

  “Oh God, you are way too good at this.” Her voice came out as a croak, shaky with excitement.

  She tasted like heaven. She felt like heaven. And when she cried out and came all over his face, he was in heaven. Which was fucking mind-boggling, because there was no such place. No heaven. Only hell, painful, fiery hell. That was what he’d always believed, because he’d never known anything different.

  Until tonight.

  Until right fucking now, as Sofia’s pussy pulsed against his mouth and clutched his fingers. As she moaned with abandon and convulsed in pleasure.

  When she finally grew still, he climbed up her body and lay on his back beside her, the taste of her on his lips. In his blood.

  His cock rose, slapping his navel and leaving a wet streak on his abs. Christ, he wanted to fuck her, but that hadn’t been on the agenda. He’d wanted to make her feel good, not himself.