Free In the Line of Fire: Hot Desert Heroes, Book 1 by Jett Munroe

nipples, bringing them to tingling awareness. One broad hand slid up her thigh to delve beneath her pajama shorts and into the folds of her sex.
    “Fuck me,” he growled. “You’re soaked.”
    The words barely penetrated the haze of the building inferno he stoked within her. The tear of material as he ripped her shorts down her legs registered, though. “Hey!” she protested. “These are my favorite PJs.”
    “I’ll buy you another pair,” Beck muttered against her throat. “Buy you a dozen.” He reared up and dragged open the drawer of the nightstand, snagging a condom.
    Delaney sat up and started unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands were shaking so much she got frustrated after loosening only two. With a muttered imprecation, she grasped the placket and ripped his shirt apart. She managed to unfasten the buttons at his wrists and he shoved the shirt off.
    “Guess you owe me a shirt.” His grin was wide, feral, full of heated desire. He got off the bed long enough to ditch the rest of his clothes.
    She lay back against the bed and stared at him. Across one taut bicep was a black-and-red stylized tattoo of an eagle, wings lifted in flight. Black hair dusted his broad pecs, narrowing to a line bisecting his taut abdomen, circling his navel to continue down to one of the best parts of him. She wasn’t one to ordinarily wax poetic about man parts, but she loved Beck’s cock. Wide and thick and long, it was beautiful. She figured he knew what to do with it too, and if he didn’t do it well she’d be shocked.
    He was muscular but lean without an ounce of extra body fat. She fought the urge to glance down at her belly, knowing she’d see that little pooch no amount of crunches could get rid of. She kept telling herself that was what happened when a woman made it over the big 3-0, but maybe it would help if she laid off the carrot cake muffins. But if she couldn’t eat cream-cheese-laden carrot cake muffins, what was the point of life?
    He rolled the condom onto that luscious cock, and when his hand slid once again between her legs, she forgot about belly pooches, muffins, everything except Beck and how he made her feel.
    He surged forward, filling her, his mouth dropping to one of her breasts, drawing her nipple deep.
    “Ohmigod,” Delaney mewled. She drove her fingers into his thick, dark hair, arching her neck on a whimper. Then she had no breath because Beck began pounding into her, hands on her hips, pulling her up against each downward thrust of his pelvis. His mouth moved to her other nipple and she felt the drag of his tongue all the way to her core.
    “Twelve…fucking…months,” he growled in time to his hard thrusts. “Twelve fucking months I’ve wanted to do this.”
    She wrapped her legs around him, bare heels digging into the backs of his thighs, one hand fisting in his hair, the other clutching his back. She’d never had it as good before, until Beck.
    He went down on one elbow and moved a hand from her hip to her pussy. Two fingers pressed on her clit and circled. Her entire body tightened as her climax built.
    “Beck,” she gasped, her voice harsh with passion, peppered with desperation. She’d never built up so fast. And she wanted to get to the edge and fall off, so much. With Beck. Only with Beck.
    “Reach for it, baby,” he rasped, hips still driving into hers, fingers now pinching and tugging her slick, swollen bud.
    “I want…want you t-to…” She gasped as his cock slid over her sweet spot. “Oh God! You come too.”
    “I will.” Circling fingers and thrusting cock drove her higher and higher. “Come for me,” he urged against her lips.
    She had no choice. She flew apart on a scream. She scored her nails up his back. His hips punched against hers once, twice; then he pressed deep and held, back arched, a low growl coming from his throat as he came with her.
    Her climax rolled through her, on and on. Delaney moaned and panted through it, wrapping her arms around Beck, the