Page 8 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
As he promised, Colt doesn’t last, cursing and thrusting upward, the motion of his shaft rubbing against mine. It feels better than I’d care to admit—than I’ll ever admit to him—especially when he shoots hot liquid inside of her, lending extra lube for the violent slip and slide of our bodies.
Natalia throws her head back, lips opening to scream as her body tightens around mine like a perverted hug. My hand clamps across her lips as she pulses on me, and I finish myself with a few last wild thrusts.
“Get the fuck off of me,” Colt moans as soon as I’ve finished. I slide off the bed and help Natalia off, her body sliding against mine as I set her carefully on the floor. For just a brief moment there, she looks into my eyes, and something shifts inside of me. Not sure what it is, but Colt doesn’t offer me a chance to examine it. “That was hot as hell—even with this douche’s dick pressed up against mine.”
“Get fucked, Colt,” I say, stepping away from Natalia, and fixing my pants. I toss the coat into the corner, and watch hungrily as she changes back into her own clothes.
Just in time, too, because Hawke comes storming into the room, gray eyes dark. The way his nostrils flare, I’m damn near positive he knows what was going on in here. At least, for once, he decides not to say anything.
“Natalia, you’re leaving tonight; Janet would like to have a brief word with you.”
She nods, without a snarky comeback for once, and slips out of the room, leaving the ruined nursing uniform behind her.Chapter 3NataliaThe safe house that Hawke takes us to is in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. For three weeks, I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for Colt and West to arrive. This place is lifeless, and the two of them are a party in and of themselves. I need that; I crave it.
But I’m not going to let them know just how much.
"This place is a major dump," Colt murmurs as Weston wheels him toward our new place. Colt is freaked all the way out by the wheelchair, and keeps insisting he's fine to walk. But his best friend is having none of it, clamping a huge hand over his shoulder and shoving him back into the seat. "I mean, where the fuck even is this place?"
He's got a point there.
We've been stationed in a new city, a new state. Apparently this is Trail, Oregon, but who the hell ever heard of that? It's a long-ass way from New York City, that's for sure.
What, exactly, we're doing here, I'm not sure.
For a few weeks, I stayed at a hotel, and then in the middle of the night, Hawke appeared in my room and forced me into an unmarked car, drove me to the company-owned hospital, and then loaded me onto a plane. For the past month, all I've done is train with him, or shoot with Mace. Arsen is still nowhere to be seen, and we're just now getting these two back.
Also, by some unspoken agreement, Mace and Hawke have backed off of me. Sexually, I mean. I haven't had anything even close to sex in the past three weeks, so even though he's injured, and I'm trying my best not to let my lustful tendencies get a hold of me ... I'm also checking Colt's bare chest out like a horny teenager. Why, exactly, he's not wearing a shirt is beyond me, but I'm not about to complain.
"He spilled hot coffee all over himself, like some sort of helpless infant," Weston says, trying to be mocking but failing miserably. He can play the manly man game all he wants, but it's pretty damn clear that he loves his friend—in a platonic sort of way anyhow.
"Infants don't fucking drink coffee, you dumb shit," Colt shoots back, his floppy, sandy hair cut short in a military style. He keeps reaching up to touch it, and cringing, like he misses his old 'do.
When his spring green eyes fall on mine, a jolt of excitement goes through me, making my fingertips and toes tingle. When he gives me a shit-eating grin, more than just my extremities tingle. A rush of hot heat takes over my core, and I feel myself wetting my lower lip with my tongue.
"Oh for fuck's sake, you two can quit eye fucking each other any minute now," Weston says, but he seems pretty excited to see me, too. I haven't seen him since we left New York, and damn, he’s a sight for sore eyes. Is it my imagination or have Colt and Weston gotten hotter?
They contrast each other beautifully. Colt with his newly cropped blond hair and Nordic complexion—several shades lighter than I'm used to seeing, thanks to his six week coma—versus Weston's natural tan, jade eyes and jet black hair spliced with peacock blue. It was green last time I'd seen him, but he makes any color look hot.
