Page 38 of Scorpion

“I’m helping,” he says innocently. “Didn’t they train you to stay perfectly still even when you’re getting attacked? Show me how good you are at it.” Soft, pillowy lips brush against my cheek, and I fight the urge to turn to kiss him. I wonder if he’s still a gentle kisser, or if life has hardened him into steel. Has he grown possessive over the years? Turned down the path of needing to claim?

I can’t ever know. Kissing him seems like acceptance, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.

“Show me why you’re one of the greatest snipers alive.”

His fingers breach my waist band until his entire hand is pressed against my lower stomach. My legs part involuntarily, and I internally chastise myself for being so needy. But God, I can’t help it. I didn’t realize how much I’ve been craving this type of intimacy.

“Watch your form, Zalak.”

Fuck.

I suck in a sharp breath to block out the spell he’s casting on me, but there’s no fighting the fact that his fingers are inching lower with every heartbeat. The ringing in my ears grows louder, and I’m shivering from the feel of finally having his hands back on me.

My hips buckle when he strums my clit, and desire pools between my legs, saturating the thin material of my panties.

“You flinched.” He tsks. “You can do better than that.”

Fruitlessly, I try to remember the calculation for the shot. Has the direction of the wind changed? Gone down?

The next strum of his fingers makes me lean my head against the rifle. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Pleasure bursts in each corner of my body and a low keening sound starts at the base of my throat.

“Shh,” Mathijs whispers, torturing me with the way he rubs in slow, purposeful circles, as if he remembers just how I like it. “You don’t want to give away our location now, do you?”

I think I might kill him.

“Is there something wrong?” he taunts while I struggle to keep myself still.

A bang goes off with the pull of the trigger. When I flinch, it has nothing to do with the recoil, and everything to do with the finger he slips inside me.

Jesus fuck it’s been a long time since anyone has touched me there. If I had any hope of shutting this down before, it’s all gone now.

He hums, pumping into me in agonizingly slow movements. I squeeze my eyes shut and groan, arching to take him in deeper. “You really shouldn’t be so distracted when operating a firearm, darling. Do you know how dangerous that is?”

My pussy clamps around his finger and my eyes flutter open, and I grip the gun to stop myself from grinding into his hand. I shouldn’t be anywhere near a rifle with how disconnected my brain has become to reality. Someone could walk by, and I don’t think I’d care right now. Hell, I don’t think I’d even care if I accidentally shot someone. But something else makes me pause, and once the idea takes hold, there’s nothing I can do to dispel it.

There’s this one other disturbing thought circling my head: I want him to fuck me.

I need to forget how to spell my own name. I need him to make me go nonverbal with how thoroughly he’s fucking me. His fingers aren’t enough. There are too many layers between us and it’s becoming harder to stay put than it is to start moaning out his name.

But my self-control is fried anyway.

I’ll deal with the aftermath of this later. For now, we’re just two people.

I push my hips against his, needing to feel that I’m affecting him just as much as he’s affecting me. The truth of it is evident in the hard bulge that meets me. I bite down on a scream when his fingers plunge inside of me, pummeling like he’s wanting to send me into an early grave.

My eyes roll to the back of my head. Every atom in my body is vibrating with pleasure.

I barely notice my surroundings. Hell, everything on the other side of the scope is a blur. The lusty haze over my vision has impaired every one of my senses, and it only gets worse with my nearing climax. Still, I want more.

Would it be so bad if we went there? I’m a grown woman. Sex doesn’t have to mean more than just sex.

The pressure in my core builds with every drive of his fingers. I’m nothing more than a wet, panting mess, silently begging to be stretched out on his cock. I need to feel him more than I need air. I can’t remember what it’s like to have Mathijs take me like there’s no other person on this Earth for him, and I think I’ll die if I don’t get the reminder. Soon.

I gasp when he suddenly pulls out his fingers and shoves my pants down my hips. Automatically, I arch my back to grant him easier access. I’m so desperate for him and everything he has to offer—sexual and otherwise—but I’m so fucking scared of what might come next.

For one heavy moment, I think he’ll realize what a bad idea this is and walk away. We’ll go on pretending like nothing ever happened, and I’ll live the rest of my life regretting that I didn’t say something or do something—anything—to show him how much I care about him. That I appreciate him. That I never stopped loving him.

With one kiss against my shoulders, all my worries vanish. I shiver from the warmth of his hands groping my ass. Slowly, he pushes my panties to the side, like he’s waiting for me to put a stop to this. I answer with the raise of my hips, and something tangible passes over us.

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