Page 9 of Swept Away (Men of War #1)

G EMMA

That pretty much explains Monique’s behavior.

She’s so resentful of the fact that she’s attracted to Carter that she thinks drinking, acting silly, and stirring up trouble is the way to go.

We dance another round only because I want her to stay away from the bar and the barista who can’t stop showing up and asking Carter if he wants anything else.

The woman has a crush on him, and Monique’s erratic behavior is not enough of a deterrent to make her stay away from him.

He doesn’t encourage her in the slightest, turning his back to the bar and watching me and Monique dance.

Mason stands next to him, holding his drink, and at one point, he leans closer to Carter and says something to him.

Carter nods, looking at me.

I’m a little nervous about their exchange, so I turn my back to them and continue dancing.

Minutes later, we’re back at the bar, and what we’ve been trying to avoid the entire evening finally happens.

All worked up, Monique signals to that particular barista to come take her order.

Once she gets her drink, she tosses it into the woman's face, and a catfight begins.

The men accompanying us spring into action, pulling Monique away and pushing the barista back.

More clamor ensues, and a circle of bystanders forms when Carter grabs Monique and tugs her away.

“I need to take her home,” he says, and Mason hands him the car keys.

“It won’t take long,” he says, and soon after, he leaves with Monique.

Perhaps that was Monique’s strategy all along.

Start up some trouble and get Carter involved so she can get home with him and finally get him to fuck her.

As weird as it sounds, it might work.

If that’s her plan, the woman is more seasoned than I thought she was.

Relieved that I no longer have to spend time with her and constantly keep an eye on her, I pull up next to Mason and ask the guy behind the counter for a bottle of water.

I drink half of it.

“Feel better?” Mason asks, not in the slightest unsettled by how things have turned out.

“Honestly? Yes.”

He gives me a low laugh and turns to the bartender.

Moments later, he pays for our tab.

A slow song comes on, and he nods toward the dance floor.

“You wanna dance?” he murmurs, already taking my hand and dragging me in that direction, rendering my answer useless.

His hand slides to the small of my back while we slowly twirl, my body pressed into his, my arms draped around his neck.

A few movements pass before he lowers his lips to my ear.

“You look lovely tonight, Gemma,” he says in an enthralling tone, and my skin prickles, blooming with excitement.

Normally, these words would serve as a pickup line or a casual compliment.

Coming from him, it sounds genuine. Like he’s never seen another person looking as lovely as I do tonight.

“Thank you,” I say.

He awakens every nerve ending in my body by slowly rolling his thigh between my legs and making me feel the hard ridge of his erection against my abdomen.

The temperature suddenly rises around us when he lowers his mouth again and places a kiss on my neck.

My back arches as my chest presses into him when he laces his fingers through mine and keeps spinning around with me on the dance floor, the music swiftly erasing the presence of other people around us.

His other hand moves lower and around my hip before sliding up and stopping short of my left boob.

I want his hand on me, and subconsciously telegraph that to him by pushing myself into his touch and pressing myself against his frame.

He twitches against my abdomen when he brings us to a stop and, without a word, leads me out of the establishment.

A few people hang out in front of the bar.

Without slowing down, we make a left and walk around the club, where we enter a narrow space between the bar and the next building.

It’s barely lit with only a faint light in the back, and even that one is mostly concealed by a large tree.

He pulls me behind the tree and into the doorframe of a locked door, where he presses my back against the wooden surface, grabs my face, and starts kissing me.

Damn it.

I never thought a kiss could taste that good.

He unapologetically parts my lips and moves his tongue with mine, his kiss unleashing deep desires inside me.

His hands move fast across my shoulders, sweeping off the straps of my dress, and leaving me bare-chested, with the top of my outfit crumpled down, and my skirt pulled up over my ass.

My pussy tingles as he undoes his fly, his eyes heavy, tilted to my sex, his focus solely on my slit.

He wraps his fist around his hard-on and rubs it a few times before grabbing one of my boobs.

“Wet my dick, baby,” he says and nods toward his swollen, stiff cock.

His eyes stay on my tits, and his hand is now tangled in my hair while I lower myself in front of him, wrap my fingers around him, and start lapping at his hard-on.

His erection stirs in his hand, the salty taste of pre-cum blooming over my lips.

Moving my tongue around him, I collect every bit of wetness before he pushes the back of my head toward himself and enters my mouth.

I feel him deep in my throat.

A groan lifts off his chest as he thrusts into my mouth, making me choke and tear up.

From wetting his dick, we get to where he’s straight out fucking my mouth.

I love how he loses himself, claiming my mouth.

Eventually, he pulls me up and rips off my panties.

They end up in his back pocket from where he extracts another wrapper.

“Turn around,” he says before tearing it open. “Hands on the door,” he says, amusement flickering in his voice as he rolls the condom down.

I do as I’m told, my legs open.

He pulls up close to me, brings his fingers to my front, and slowly moves them up and down my slit.

My bottom pushes up while he slides himself in.

Iron-hard, he rocks his hips, pushing himself into me as moans rush to my lips.

His arm comes around me to hold me tight against his chest while he hammers me, dragging me through the gates of heaven and then hell as if he wants to split me open.

My vocalizing goes up as my pleasure soars, and I fleetingly worry that someone might hear us, but I don’t care.

He feels that good.

Inching closer to his high, he grunts quietly, claiming his pleasure while delivering mine.

We come, clenched together, his thrusts making my center throb even after he pulls away from me, disposes of the condom, and presses his back into the building wall, head tilted back, his fist on his cock, still stroking, still wanting sex.

I feel just the same.

The headlights of a car sweep the space where we are hiding, and he opens his eyes, his chest still heaving.

“This is him… Carter,” he says, panting. “He’s here to pick us up,” he adds, slowly tucking his cock back in and fixing his pants. “Let me help you with your dress,” he murmurs, pushing off the wall and coming close to me again.

Whatever representation of him helping me with my dress grips his mind, it can’t be what happens next.

He snakes his arm around my waist, lowers his head, and bites into my boob before flicking the nipple and teasing it with his tongue.

When he starts sucking on it with a hand between my legs, running up high and his knuckles brushing my soaked sex, I slide my fingers through his hair and say the kind of words I never thought I’d say.

“I want more of this…”

He stops and straightens, which isn’t what I said, his hand still between my legs, stroking my pussy, my skirt not all the way down, the top of my dress still bunched up around my waist.

“Say it again,” he demands with a smile, leaning into me, forcing me to fall back against the door, his elbow sliding next to my head as he inches closer to me.

His lips are almost touching mine.

“Say it, baby…”

“I want more of this,’ I say quietly while he slides his fingers between my folds and encircles the center of pleasure tucked inside.

“More words, Gemma.”

I suck in a short breath.

“I like how you fuck me… And I want more.”

My voice catches, and following the cadence of my words, he slides his finger in at a slower pace and pushes it inside my wet, swollen core.

A moan tears away from my lips.

“You like this…” he says in a taunting voice as if we’re playing a game.

“Uh-huh,” I say, my bottom lip rolled beneath my teeth.

He curls his fingers and moves them deeper, and I clench around his touch.

“You love it a lot, it seems,” he comments, and I nod in agreement.

He brings his mouth to the side of my face and, moving his lips across my skin, he speaks, “Then all you need to do is to show me how much you love it.”

And then he’s taking me to a new world.

Pressing his groin into my side so I can feel his erection, he slides his fingers into me as if he’s fucking me.

Paced in the beginning, letting me build as much tension as possible and then crushing my clit beneath his thumb so I can feel the pulsations even more intensely.

“I’ll fuck you good, baby. All you need to do is ask,” he murmurs and starts kissing, biting, and licking my neck.

His other hand goes to my back and slides between my butt cheeks, and when he moves it from my back hole to my center, I’m done.

Grabbing his arm and leaving marks on his skin, I try to contain the storm between my legs.

No way I can do that, so I let it flow through me, jerking against his hands like a crazy woman.