She laughed softly, a sound that was pure music. “Hmm, negotiations with…” Her hand slid down his body, a deliberate, teasing path, and cupped his throbbing, aching dick firmly through his shorts.
He saw stars, heated, exploding supernovas behind his eyes, and his breath cut off in a sharp gasp.
“...my thoroughly aroused, and sexy Navy SEAL sniper,” she finished, her voice a smug, triumphant whisper.
His guttural cry made her smile, and she absorbed every move he made, her eyes caressing every expression on his face as he bucked into her hand. She leaned in, bit his lower lip, tugging it gently before sliding her hand into the waistband, impatiently pushing his shorts and underwear down his hips to pool at his feet. Her thumb slid over his head, smearing the moisture there, and his face pressed into the crook of her shoulder, his hips thrusting uncontrollably into her hand, a mindless, desperate rhythm.
“How did you ever think you could hold out against me?” she murmured.
“I’m still a stupid, dumb fuck?” he managed around his ragged breathing, the pleasure making him crazy mad to be inside her, but her hand on him felt so fucking good. Her body, her presence wrapping him up in her space, and intimacy wasn’t to be feared, it was to be experienced.
“No,” she whispered, laving with her tongue the place where she’d bitten him. “Just stupidly courageous.”
“I think we’re done fighting,” he gasped. “Can we just?—”
She took his legs out from under him. One moment he was standing, the next he was landing on his back on the rug, buck naked and so vulnerable. He looked up at her, a real, honest chuckle rumbling in his chest. “God, I’m so fucked.”
“Almost,” she whispered, standing over him like a goddess of war and love. She stripped off her clothes with economical, graceful movements, baring that beautiful, toned ballerina body. Then she knelt and straddled him, took his dick firmly into her hand, and with a soft, broken cry, guided him inside.
She rode him, and with every roll of her hips, she conquered another defense. His control, his intimidation, his emotional distance, all of it fell before her, dismantled piece by piece until there was nothing left but the raw, exposed man beneath. This was a war, and she was fighting for the man she'd revealed, starving out the old Breakneck who survived on detachment. The man who was afraid of his own intensity was being annihilated in the fire of her acceptance. The old him was dead, and she was the glorious, beautiful apocalypse bringing him to life.
She roared into it, but her words were as physical and fierce as a battering ram in a whisper that wrecked him. “I love you, Kelly. Love you…so much.”
With a guttural groan, he gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and in one powerful, fluid motion, he rolled them. He was over her, his body blanketing hers, his knees bracketing her thighs. The rug was rough against his skin, the air cool on his sweat-slicked back, but all he could feel was her.
“I love you, Blair,” he rasped, his voice thick with an emotion that felt too big for his body. “More than air, more than life. You’re my second trident, just as part of me as my first, forged in pain, challenge, and grit.”
He began to move, his need to take what she was offering manifesting in one deep, deliberate thrust at a time, sealing their terms with his body. His hand reached between them, finding that swollen, moist bud, and his thumb, massaging with torturous, slow circles, a counterpoint to the deep, powerful rhythm of his hips.
He watched her, watched as his control over her pleasure became absolute. Her eyes glazed over, her mouth softened into a perfect ‘O’ of surrender, and her back arched off the floor. She came for him, a silent, beautiful wave that broke against him, and he felt it in every cell of his being.
“Kelly…” she whispered, her voice pleasure-soaked, love-soaked, possessive and soft.
The sound of his name on her lips like that was his undoing. He planted his hands on either side of her head, anchoring himself as an orgasm ripped through him, his body and heart seizing in an unbearable ache of surrender, love, and that same, fierce possession. It went on and on, his cry primal and fierce, a roar of victory and release, until he was completely spent.
He collapsed on top of her, his weight a welcome pressure, as her arms went around him, holding him, taking his weight, her legs clasping him just as tightly. In the quiet aftermath, with their hearts hammering against each other, he was finally, irrevocably, clear. His chest heaved, his body sweat-soaked and tingling, spent.
Then suddenly, the sharp whinny cut through the air.
He froze, then lifted his head, a slow, disbelieving grin spreading across his face. “What the fuck? You brought Jet with you?”
“No,” she said, her eyes dancing with pure, unadulterated mischief. “I have Sundance, too.” She grabbed the back of his neck and, with a strength and grace that still floored him, flipped him onto his back. She loomed over him, a glorious, naked goddess. “I bought both of them from the RCMP, and they’re mine. Got all my little ducks in a row, vet certificates, border inspection, layovers booked at proper stables. It was a haul, but I wouldn’t change any of it. I’ve got plenty of my own funds, at least enough to buy land and support myself for some time. There’s no need for that frown.” She rubbed gently between his eyes. “I have plans, so many plans.”
He was utterly speechless.
She giggled. “Oh, God, I love when you’re so adorably blindsided.” She lowered her head and kissed him deeply, a slow, possessive kiss that tasted of laughter and victory.
“I have a feeling that’s going to be one of my many faces around you,” he groused.
She giggled again. “Oh, I so hope so. Now, do you have any suggestions for a temporary stable around here?”
He groaned softly, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “Apparently, your plans didn’t include accommodations for two big Mountie horses who refuse to be ignored.”
“Ha.” She laughed, a bright, beautiful sound. “You giving me sass, hero?”
“Yeah, I’m feeling pretty damn good, Horsewomen of the Apocalypse. You want to go a few more rounds?”
“You wouldn’t last, handsome.”
