Page 100 of Black Sheep

I’m less than gentle when I fist her hair and pump into her mouth. She takes as much of me as she can, and fuck, it’s more than enough to feel her tongue and mouth and throat spur me toward my fatalistic end. “I’m coming, baby. So hard. You ready?”

Her groan vibrates against my bulging head. The inferno I’m helpless to stop rages up my spine, shoots into my balls. I explode like a fucking fire hose, conscious I’m roaring incoherent words.

She swallows me. Every last drop, then collapses against the seat. I drop to my knees and take her face in my hands.

“God, that was…”

“Fucking amazing?” she supplies with a slightly smug, slightly drugged smile.

And I know, in that moment, that I never stopped loving Cleopatra McCarthy.

The depth of emotions rampaging through me terrifies the shit out of me. All I can do is lurch forward and seal my lips over hers.

Her arms creep around my neck.

We kiss until a knock jerks me from bliss. My thick curse makes her smile. I tug her dress down reluctantly before seeing to my jeans.

“What?” My query is less than cordial.

The door opens, and B pokes her head through a second later. Her gaze skates over me to Cleo. “You ready?” She smiles.

My hands tighten on Cleo’s waist. “No. She’s not,” I growl.

“Jeez, lighten up, big guy. We’re only going upstairs.”

She’s having lunch with B on the roof, a bonding routine that seems to have established itself without my permission. Something I’ve decided to allow. For now.

“Besides, your visitor has arrived. She’s waiting in the bar.”

Cleo’s gaze snaps to me. “She?”

I kiss her on her scrunched-up nose, loving that she’s not bothering to hide her jealousy. “Nothing to worry about, baby.”

Even though what I’m about to do rams a spike of tension through me, I have no choice. Detective Malone keeps my secret because of the wads of cash I fling his way and also because he knows better than to cross me after getting a small glimpse of my military history.

This is new territory for me. But in a world where trust is a huge issue, Quinn Blackwood’s word is one I’m prepared to risk a lot for. Nevertheless, I’ve done my homework. The feelers I put out for his contact have so far drawn a conspicuous blank, which perversely reassures me that the woman is the right person for the job.

I drag myself to my feet and help Cleo up. She looks satisfactorily just-fucked disheveled, and the glaze hasn’t cleared from her eyes yet.

She’s so beautiful. I smooth back her hair, press another kiss to her lips, and trail my hand down the side of her neck. God, I can’t stop touching her.

“Come on guys, it’s rude to keep people waiting,” B grumbles.

“You’re not people,” I snap.

“Wow, you’re all prince.”

Cleo smiles against my mouth before she steps around me. “I’ll see you later?” she asks softly.

B huffs. “You say that like you have a fucking hope of getting rid of him.”

I spin around to glare at my intrusive partner. “Are you still here?”

She lifts an insolent brow. Cleo laughs and strolls to the door.

“Cleo?”

She looks over her shoulder. “Yes?”

---