Michelle Maddox - Countdown

With a growl I felt against my mouth, he moved to kiss me down the side of my neck to my collarbone. My hands were on his back, pulling him closer to me, bringing his face back against mine, and I kissed him.

I felt as if I couldn't get enough of him, his taste, his smell, the feel of his body pressing into me. Nothing could stop the flood of desire I felt for him. There was just this moment. Just Rogan and me, and nobody else in the world existed.

Suddenly he broke off the kiss roughly, stared into my eyes for a moment, and ran his thumb along my bottom lip, which now felt swollen and very tender.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

I could barely speak, so all I said was, "No. Don't stop."

He drew closer and whispered against my lips, "I'm very glad to hear it."

I thought he'd kiss me again, but instead he sank to his knees in front of me, and I felt his hot breath against my bare thighs. He didn't say anything else and was totally silent as he slid his hands under my short black skirt, catching his fingers at the sides of my game-provided black thong. Then he tore it off.

He parted me with his hands, and I gasped out loud as I felt his mouth and tongue on me. I arched against the wall and tangled my fingers into his hair, trying not to pass out from the intense pleasure.

Stars exploded behind my closed eyelids.

"Rogan …" I moaned his name. After another minute I screamed as an orgasm ripped through me and shattered my world completely.

He rose slowly to his feet and captured my mouth again in another rough kiss that swept through my senses and made my body shake with need. I felt weak and had to cling to him to stay on my feet. What was left of my thong twisted around my ankles, and I clumsily stepped out of it.

"Kira," he managed, and my name was harsh, an almost guttural sound whispered against my lips. "Kira, I want you so much."

I felt his hands on my breasts, his thumbs sliding roughly against my hard nipples, which were very visible through the thin fabric of my low-cut black Countdown top.

I couldn't speak, just nodded in agreement. Nothing mattered to me anymore except his hands, his mouth, and the feel of his hard cock rubbing against my thigh.

He let go of me briefly to fumble at the front of his black pants. Then he pressed me back more firmly against the wall and lifted my right leg up over his thigh. I felt him against me-hard and thick-and then with a deep thrust he was inside of me, driving his length in and out, in and out….

I clung to him, moaning his name over and over as he took me against the wall of the safe house-holding him tightly, my hands in his hair, on his shoulders, clutching at his back as he kissed me over and over and over, and I knew then that I never wanted to let him go.

****

I figured that finding a new outfit could wait for a while. What can I say? I was a bit distracted. For two or three hours.

My lips felt bruised. For that matter so did the rest of my body-but in a very good way this time. I peeked at Rogan from behind a pillow. Yes, we'd actually found our way into a bedroom eventually.

He grinned at me. "Like I said before, the best postprison piece of ass in the city."

I whacked him with the pillow. "That's so funny. You should be a comedian."

He grabbed the pillow and threw it to the side and then pinned me down to the bed. I looked up at him. He stroked back from my eyes the hair that had fallen onto my face. "What am I going to do with you, Kira Jordan?"

I smiled. "Well, you haven't been doing badly so far. I would have to vote for more of the same, please."

He kissed me slowly. We'd progressed from fast and hard to slow and steady and everything in between. He trailed his tongue up my throat and along my jaw line until he came to my ear.

"We'd better get ready to catch the shuttle."

My smile widened. "My, how time flies when you're busy fucking your brains out."

"Such a sweet talker," he murmured. "Even if it wasn't time to catch the shuttle, I'm completely exhausted. You're a lot younger than me, you know."

"I'm almost twenty-three." I frowned. "Now that you mention it, I guess I am. How old are you? Almost thirty?" I made a face. "I think many of the things you just did to me are against the law."

"What I just did to you?" He raised an eyebrow. "Sweetheart, I now have scratches where scratches should never be."

I inspected my fingernails. "Weapons of mass destruction, at your service."

He leaned over and kissed me again. I could get very used to the way Rogan kissed me: slow and precise and warm and firm. His mouth made my toes curl. I'd definitely developed a Kerometh-like addiction to the man's lips in record time.

"Get dressed," he said.

"Yes, sir." I got up on my side of the bed and walked over to the wardrobe. I slid open the door and inspected the clothes inside. "I guess Jonathan never planned on a woman using the safehouse. These are all men's clothes."

"You see anything in there for me?"

I threw him a pair of jeans and a dark green T-shirt. He could still wear the black boots he already had. I took a pair of dark blue pants that were in the smallest size possible and slipped them on. They were still very loose around the waist, so I grabbed a belt, which helped a bit. On top I chose a long-sleeved light blue shirt, which I tucked into the pants.

I turned around.

"Looks good to me," Rogan said.

"Not exactly high fashion, but I've worn worse." I slid on my old black combat boots again. They'd do for now. "How much time do we have?"

He glanced at the digital clock that was next to his side of the bed. "Forty-five minutes."

Just then I heard a slamming sound from downstairs. I froze. Rogan didn't waste any time. He grabbed the gun he'd placed on the bedside table, and we were out of the room in a flash.

We turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs to see that Jonathan had just entered the house and stood by the sink in the kitchen.

I let out a long breath. "Jonathan, thank God it's only you."

He didn't say anything. The lights were off in the kitchen, and Rogan tapped the wall to turn them on.

I gasped. Jonathan looked terrible. His face was as white as snow and damp with perspiration. The skin around his left eye was dark purple, the white of it filled with red. He clutched at his upper chest with his right hand and supported himself against the counter with his other.

"What the hell happened?" Rogan demanded, coming to his side.

Jonathan shook his head. "There's no time. I learned that the shuttle would be early and had to tell you. You must leave now … you have only minutes. Gareth and the others-they know…. They're … they're coming for you…."

"What? They know about this place? Did you tell them?"

"They know that I… that I helped you." He backed up until he was against the kitchen counter. "They've been suspicious ever since I gave you the antidote. They think I helped you escape."

He slid down to sit awkwardly on the floor.

"What did they do to you?" My heart was banging painfully against my ribs. "What can we do to help?"

He gave me a very weak smile. "Just be safe."

Then his expression stilled and his eyes glazed over. His hand dropped away from his chest to reveal a large, bloody wound.

Rogan dropped down beside him and pressed two fingers to Jonathan's throat. He looked up at me grimly. "He's dead."

My eyes filled with hot tears that spilled immediately to my cheeks. "What? He can't be dead!"

His expression was stony, his jaw tense. "They killed him. Dammit to hell." He leaned forward and closed Jonathan's eyes, and then got to his feet. "We need to leave right now."

I shook my head. I didn't want to believe it, but it was true. Jonathan was dead. He was the only one who had helped us. The only one who cared enough … and they killed him because he helped us. I tried to swallow but my throat was too dry.