Just a little smutty goodness for the Babes. Enjoy!

Warning: Rating for language and smut. Spoilers through all the books, I guess.

I swung the Tahoe into the underground parking lot of my Boston office building and squealed to a stop between the yellow lines of space number twelve. Otherwise known as my personal parking spot, when the Massachusetts RangeMan crew is lucky enough to have me in town. I cut the engine and whipped off my seatbelt, enjoying the calming solitude of a confined space as I shut my eyes and let my head fall back against the headrest. I took deep breaths to settle my nerves and felt the tension lift away. Finally, it was over.

My Beantown team and I had managed to subdue and capture Bingo Scharfmann outside of the Cask'n Flagon Sports Bar in the Back Bay of Boston, right after a Red Sox victory celebration that had carried over from nearby Fenway Park. It was pure fucking madness. Scharfmann was drunk and definitely not going down without a fight. I'd taken an unexpected direct hit to the chest with a clump of chicken pesto pasta and had half a beer poured over the front of my pants by an overly-excited bar patron. My head ached and my ears rang from the loud rock music that had been blasting throughout the restaurant at top volume. One of my men had ended up with a bullet to the thigh, courtesy of Scharfmann's pistol, and needed to be rushed to the ER downtown. Christ, it had been a long-ass day.

I was considering turning down any future requests from the Massachusetts guys for my assistance with their difficult captures. As Stephanie would say, stick a fork in me. Because at that moment, I was done.

The apartment I stayed at when I happened to be in Boston was the entire eighth floor of the RangeMan office building. It wasn't as big as my main residence in Trenton. Wasn't as cool, wasn't as opulent. But it was definitely a place where I could get a change of clothes, take a nice hot shower, and grab a bite to eat before calling it a night. Which is exactly what I planned on doing.

I decided that I'd sat in my SUV long enough. I hauled myself out and slammed the door shut behind me before beeping it locked. My pants were soaked, and I reeked of old pesto and Miller Lite. I needed a shower. Bad. I met up with a couple of my guys who'd joined me on the Scharfmann takedown in the elevator on my way up to eight, and they didn't look like they were in any better shape than I was. Julio had gotten doused over the head with a Tom Collins and smelled like a cabaret. Ryan had beef tips and noodles still clinging to his cargoes and Kevlar vest.

"Thanks for helping us out this afternoon, Bossman," said Ryan. He was a RangeMan newbie, fresh out of the military and jumpy as hell. Iraq will do that to a man. He should have listed 'trigger-happy' on his resume under Skills. I placed his age at about twenty-three, but his mentality skirted more along the lines of pre-teen video game nut.

"Yeah. We're glad you made the trip up from Jersey to give us a hand," Julio agreed, clapping a hand on my shoulder. The doors closed and the elevator began smoothly heading north.

I nodded once. "No problem, gentlemen." I even found myself adding, "Anytime." Good one, Manoso. I watched Ryan and Julio traipse off the elevator when it stopped on three. They were okay kids. The elevator left me off on eight and I was never so happy to see the inside of my Boston apartment. My housekeeper, Gloria, kept the place immaculate for the rare occasions that I needed to stay there. She saw to my cooking and cleaning and general comfort, much like Ella.

Gloria had prepared a dinner of grilled prawns over whole-wheat linguine, tossed in an olive oil and garlic coulis. Hell, yes. As it turned out, I was fucking starving. Not even bothering to take my soiled clothes off, I sat down at my breakfast bar and poured out a glass of chilled white wine. My shower could wait. I dug into the linguine and remoted on the plasma that was hanging from a far wall in the living room. I found Fox News Boston and tuned in to find out what madness was going on in the world.

"A huge scofflaw down in the Back Bay this afternoon, Maria," exclaimed Mark Ockerbloom, turning to his evening news cohort and chuckling.

"I'll say," laughed Maria Stephanos. "Diners at the Cask'n Flagon Sports Bar on Brookline Avenue got quite an eyeful during a victory celebration for the Red Sox, Mark. Bounty hunter and RangeMan Security Enterprises owner Carlos Manoso and his team of fugitive recovery agents apprehended bar patron Bingo Scharfmann, who had been on the run following charges of lewd and lascivious conduct. One member of Manoso's team suffered a non-fatal gunshot wound and was rushed to Massachusetts General Hospital, where we've been told he will make a full recovery." Maria smiled at Mark and tapped a stack of papers onto the desk in front of her. "Just amazing, those brave young men."

"And if you're just now joining us, the Red Sox, headed up by manager Terry Francona -

I snapped off the TV and ate the last two bites of linguine before washing it down with a sip of wine. Great. We'd made the evening news and I'd been just in time to catch it. I carried my dishes to the sink and rinsed them before heading into the bathroom, stripping off clothing and gear on my way down the hall.

As I stood under the blistering hot spray, I relaxed my muscles and tried to force the tension from my back and shoulders. My mind wandered to New Jersey and I began to wonder how my Trenton operation was running in my absence and hoped to God Tank and Hal had stopped butting heads long enough to keep things going smoothly while I took care of business in Boston. I lathered up with Bulgari and rinsed off before stepping out of the shower and drying myself with a fluffy beige towel. I put on clean black basketball shorts and a clean black tee shirt, deciding to skip the hair gel in my short, mussed spikes for the time being. This would definitely be the last time I took hair-styling tips from Lester Santos.

My cell rang as soon as I'd settled myself in front of my laptop at the breakfast bar.

"Yo."

"I heard about the snafu at that bar with Scharfmann," Tank said to me. "Got a call from Dylan Smithers at RangeMan Boston."

Awesome. "Scharfmann is back behind bars. That's all that matters," I replied darkly, tapping in my e-mail account password.

"Hey, I don't blame you. By the way, what tasks did you assign to Santos and Brown before you left here yesterday?" Tank asked me.

"Since Santos still has the broken hand, I've been having him run searches for me from his office. No field work until the cast comes off. Brown's been on the monitors ever since the accident. He hasn't regained total feeling in his left foot yet, but I spoke to his orthopedist on Tuesday and he thinks it should only be a matter of days before that occurs."

"Boy, that was some crash, hunh?" Tank said, sounding awed.

"Well, things like that happen when two drunk twenty-eight-year-olds ride the Atlantic City boardwalk bumper cars without buckling themselves in." I peered at the computer screen and scrolled through the miles and miles of junk mail before finding what I wanted to open. "Why did you ask me what their assigned tasks were?"

"Because they're hunched over a laptop in Control, trying to pull up Kim Kardashian's sex tape video on YouTube."

My blood pressure hiked up a notch and I had to do a five-count before I could speak again. When I unclenched my jaw, I said, "Tell Santos that if he doesn't get all of those computer searches completed by the time I return to my office tomorrow, I'll break his other hand and effectively put an end to all whack-off fantasies that he may happen to have for the next six weeks. And make sure Brown's face stays glued to a monitor that shows actual RangeMan building footage, not sex tape footage."

"Ten-four, Bossman." The line went dead. I finished going through my e-mails and powered down my laptop. I felt an annoying tension headache begin to form behind my left eyeball and popped two Advil before it got too bad. My darkened bedroom was extremely inviting as I lagged through the door and began turning down the Egyptian cotton bed linens. For some strange reason, Stephanie popped into my head for about the millionth time that day and I pictured her here, raving on and on about how much she loved the feel of my sheets and making orgasmic noises when she finally became brave enough to crawl between them with me.

Dios.

I stretched out on my back across the covers and stared up at the dark ceiling. Now that I had Stephanie on the brain again, I wondered what she was doing right at that moment. Having dinner with Morelli, maybe? Wreaking havoc at a viewing with her troublesome Grandma Mazur? It didn't matter where she was, because she clearly wasn't here with me.

My pillow was goose down and had been flattened to precisely the right consistency to appease me while I slept. Since I don't spend the night here in Boston on a regular basis, Gloria always puts fresh sheets on the bed right before I get into town. I liked the fabric softener she used. I hugged the pillow to my front and breathed in, and my mind wandered to Stephanie's soft curves.

The high-pitched chirp of my cell phone on the nightstand split through the quiet. Tank again.

"Bossman," he began, once I'd answered. "We have a situation up on seven. Seems as though Stephanie's decided to commandeer your apartment again. Binkie let her in through the underground garage just now."

I was silent for a minute. "Do you think it's serious?"

"She brought a small suitcase and the rodent up with her. I'd say so, man."

Stephanie had just moved herself into my Haywood apartment for an indeterminate length of time. She had her clothes and Rex with her. This wasn't good. I quickly sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed my eyes with my right hand.

"I'll call her right now," I said to Tank.

"Ten-four." We disconnected and I immediately hit speed-dial two. Speed-dial one was RangeMan Control.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded cautious as soon as the connection was made.

"Babe," I said quietly. "I understand you've made yourself at home in my apartment."

Stephanie sighed, resigned. "I hope you don't mind, Ranger," she said. "I just couldn't go back to my parents house tonight and explain to them what happened. And Valerie and Kloughn and the kids are still using my apartment until their house is done being fumigated. Lula's out on a date. Mary Lou's house is pure bedlam. I had no other choice."

"Something go down between you and Morelli?" I countered, knowing full-well that the cop was the reason she was holed up in my apartment, no doubt settling herself on my couch and picking at the fringe on my throw pillows.

"We're through for good," she exclaimed. "I caught him with Terry Gilman down at the Lakeview Inn about an hour ago. Lula and I went snooping because I hadn't heard from him in almost two weeks. And this time, there wasn't some motel sting operation going on between Vito Grizzoli and the FBI that he needed to mediate. Lula knocked and said, "Housekeeping!" and Morelli answered the door with his gun in his hand and his pants around his ankles."

Asshole. "Babe. Are you really all that upset about this? Haven't you been wanting to end things with him for awhile now?"

"You're right. I'm not really angry about it at all. And yeah, I have been trying to find a way to end things with him. But his explanation of why he was there with her is what's troubling to me." She took a deep breath before continuing. "He told me that I had gotten boring in bed!"

I couldn't help but laugh. Obviously Morelli didn't know a good thing when he had it right underneath him. Or on top. Whichever. "You're a fool if you believe him."

"How should you know?" Steph demanded angrily. "You barely stuck around long enough to kiss me goodbye the next morning!"

My heart sank and I mentally kicked myself. "I'm so sorry, babe."

"Whatever, Ranger."

We were silent for a few beats. "I'd like to make it up to you when you're feeling better," I told her, in a voice that was meant to sound normal but came out husky. "Tell me when."

Stephanie scoffed. "Well, that won't be anytime soon. Good night, Ranger." The line went dead. Fuck.

Exactly five minutes on the dot later, my cell chirped again.

"Babe."

I heard Stephanie draw in a ragged breath and then she husked out, "I'm feeling better now."

Christ on the cross. "I'll see you before midnight. Promise me you'll stay right where you are."

"Just hurry," was the breathless reply. I disconnected and raced around the apartment to find everything I needed to take back to Trenton with me. Wallet, keys, cell, sunglasses, laptop, charger. I threw my dirty clothes and take-down gear into my Nike duffel bag and fobbed my way out and down the hall to the elevator.

I tore the Tahoe down the Massachusetts Turnpike and merged onto I-84 westbound towards Hartford before putting in a call to Gloria, stating that I'd decided to head back to Trenton due to an emergency situation and thanked her for everything she'd done to prepare Boston for my visit.

"Anytime, Mr. Manoso," she'd replied. "Have a safe trip back." I disconnected and squinted to read the overhead highway signs. In my hasty escape, I'd forgotten to set the GPS to Haywood and was now relying on both my leftover military geographical skills and my memory. If I played my traffic cards right, I'd be back in Trenton by eleven-thirty. It was quarter to seven.

My cell rang at nine. I was passing through New Haven, going ninety.

"Ranger, how far away are you?" Stephanie asked me. I detected a bit of a whiny, impatient quality in her voice.

"I'm two hours out," I replied darkly, trying desperately to pass a slow driver who was dilly-dallying in the fast lane. "What are you doing right now?"

Stephanie's voice lost the whine and deepened. She sounded damn sexy when she answered, "What do you want me to be doing right now, Ranger?"

Dios. I felt myself become rigid in my basketball shorts almost immediately and I swerved into the lane on my right hand side. "Oh my God," I groaned into the receiver. "Babe...are you trying to get me into an accident?"

"Would that be so bad? I can always...nurse...you back to health," she husked out. That did it. I was hanging up.

"I'll call you in ten," I growled before disconnecting. Damn her. My brain had somehow gotten wired directly to my dick, which seemed to be doing most of the thinking at that moment.

I was lying in a hospital bed surrounded by bouquets of flowers and Get Well Soon! cards. Both of my legs and both of my arms were encased in large white casts, stretched out in front of me. Stephanie had made good on her ploy to involve me in an auto accident and was now knocking on my closed hospital room door, cautiously calling my name.

"Ranger? Can I come in?"

"It's not like I can get up and stop you," I muttered to myself. She took my silence as a cue to enter and slowly pushed the door open. I affixed her with a level glare to show that I wasn't all that excited about my current condition, which just so happened to be entirely her fault. When Stephanie stepped out of the shadows and into my line of vision, I expected to see her shoulder-length brown curls and usual uniform of jeans and a stretchy tee shirt. What transpired before my eyes, however, was nothing that my mind would ever have been prepared to witness.

Standing at the foot of my bed, in a tiny red and white pin-striped jumper that looked small enough to fit a Cabbage Patch Kid, was Stephanie Plum. The jumper's skirt stopped just short of "serious slut" and the front pushed her plump breasts up and out. It was open on both sides and did nothing to disguise the fact that she was commando, both top and bottom. Holy mother of Christ. On her head was a matching nurse's cap and on her feet were four-inch red Mary Jane FMPs. Her brown curls were wild under the cap. The lipstick that stained her puffy lips was a deadly shade of red. In her hand were a pink plastic basin and a small bundle of white washcloths.

As I took her in, I watched her eyes darken and her breathing quicken. I lost the annoyed glare and licked my lips, feeling myself harden to granite beneath my blue checkered gown. Good to see that part of me still worked. Everything else had been run over by a Volvo.

"Does the staff know you're traipsing the halls in that?" I managed to grit out after giving her a once-over. Stephanie smiled smugly and my stomach tightened.

"Not a fan of my attire?" she asked, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "A million bucks says you're lying." She nodded towards the enormous bulge under my gown and clickety-clacked her way to my over-bed table. She set down the basin and dipped the washcloths into the warm water that filled it.

"Okay, so I'm a really huge fan," I admitted on a sigh. "But I'm still pretty pissed at you for turning me into a cripple."

Stephanie scoffed. "Oh, come on, Ranger. You'll be fine."

"Babe...I've got metal rods holding my leg bones together!" I exclaimed in outrage.

"Ouch," she hissed, grimacing. "Just be sure to steer clear of the security checkpoint at Newark Airport, then."

If I wasn't so incapacitated, I'd have -

"Time for your bath," Stephanie sang out. She abandoned the basin and crawled up onto the bed with me, situating herself between my casted legs and holding herself upright on her elbows. My head fell back onto my pillow and I stared up at the ceiling, praying for a quick death if she was planning on torturing me.

When I could speak again, I growled, "I thought bathing involved soap and water and washcloths."

"Ranger...this isn't going to be an ordinary bath." Stephanie then proceeded to close her demon-red lips around my fully hard length and I couldn't stop the yell that tore its way out of my chest. Her mouth was hot and soft as she sucked me forcefully. My hips lifted off the mattress toward her face and she took me all of the way into her throat, causing me to groan unabashedly as I slowly lost control.

Just as I was about to spill my heat down her esophagus, she withdrew me from her mouth and before I knew what was happening, she was straddling my hips, sitting just behind my dick. She bent down and took my bottom lip between her teeth.

And Morelli had the balls to say she was BORING? "Querida," I mumbled against her lips, my voice strained with fervent desire. "I want so badly to touch you. You have no idea what you're doing to me."

Stephanie gazed into my eyes and I saw flecks of gold shine through the midnight blue of her irises. "Carlos...I believe that tonight is all about you." With that, Stephanie grasped me in her hot little hand and sank down onto me, filling her wetness with my hard length. Her eyes went wide with surprise as she sat down completely, feeling me stretch her insides to capacity. I cried out, my mind and body both unable to comprehend how incredible it felt to be buried inside her.

"Stephanie," I groaned. "Dios, te sientes tan bien a mi alrededor..." She felt so good around me. So tight and hot and wet. Christ. She became used to my size and was slowly sliding up and down my length, clenching her inner muscles together and clutching my chest with her little fingers. Every so often, she would grind her hips down against mine and she nearly drove me insane when she did it. I fucking hated that I couldn't put my hands on her soft, smooth skin and watch her come alive under my touch as I brushed my thumbs across her hard, pink nipples.

She increased the speed of her thrusts and I did my best to match them as she began to come undone above me, her bottom lip locked between her teeth and her eyelids fluttering shut, her head thrown back in zealous passion.

I could feel the mounting pressure begin again in my lower spine and swirl its way to my groin. Stephanie was spasming around me as I threatened to explode deep inside of her -

BEEEEEEEP! "Watch where you're going, asshole!" A green Explorer cut around me and its outraged driver was hanging out the window, shouting at me across two lanes of highway traffic. Holy fuck. I'd nearly gotten myself killed. I straightened the Tahoe back into the lane I was supposed to be in just as my cell rang.

"What?" I demanded breathlessly. My dick was so hard that it was making me lightheaded. My basketball shorts were wet with pre-come and I'd begun to sweat profusely in my air-conditioned SUV.

"How much longer until you're back in Trenton?" groaned Stephanie, her voice thick with lust and desire. "Ranger, I can't wait any longer to feel your hands on my body."

Jesus Christ on a mo-ped. "I nearly got into an accident just now, thinking about doing you in a nurse's uniform. God, babe, I want you so badly but I'm scared for my life here!" I passed under a sign signaling that I was headed through Bridgeport. Damn, I was still in Connecticut.

I heard Stephanie moan again. She really had to stop doing that. "Ranger, I'm so wet for you right now. I can feel it on my fingertips."

Fucking hell. I let out a frustrated growl and my dick took over my brain again because I found myself huskily asking her, "Babe. What are you wearing right now? Where are you at? Are you in my bed?" Christ. Stephanie was probably in my bed, touching herself and driving me fucking crazy over the phone and I was more than a hundred miles away.

"I'm in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror."

"Babe...are you naked?" Please God, don't let her be naked. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to withstand a stroke at that moment. God, let her at least have a shir -

"Yes."

Dios mio. Stephanie was slowly killing me, one brain cell at a time. I had to disconnect or I'd lose my fucking mind. Turns out I lost it, anyway.

A trail of dirty clothing led from the front door of my apartment down the hall into the ostentatious master bath. I recognized the clothing as none other than Stephanie Plum's, the one and only true object of my passion and lustful desire. As I walked slowly toward my bedroom, I began taking an inventory on the items that had been discarded. Blue jeans with crud stuck to the legs, a stretchy red tee shirt smeared with what I hoped was mud, a tiny purple thong and matching lacy purple bra, dirty white socks, and scuffed-up size eight CAT boots.

In my Roman bathtub, buried to the hilt in mountains of bubbles, sat Stephanie. Her curls were piled high on her head to keep them dry and her eyes were shut peacefully, her long black lashes resting on her cheekbones. Her knees poked up through the bubbles, smooth and shiny and begging to be licked. My mouth watered at the sight of her. I silently removed my tank top and tossed it aside, leaving me fully hard in nothing but my basketball shorts.

Steph's eyes fluttered open and darkened when she saw me standing over her then. I reached a hand out to pull her from the tub and she took it, slowly sliding her perfect little body through the mass of bubbles and finally stepping out of the tub, one silky leg at a time. Not even bothering to dry her off, I pulled her back against my front and gazed at the image of sex that we created together in the gilt-framed mirror. She was warm and wet against my bare front and the bubbles were slowly starting to dissipate, sliding down her delicious torso in fading white clumps.

She felt my enormous erection prod against her bottom and she leaned into me, her head falling back against my shoulders and her arms coming above her head to circle around my neck.

"Stephanie," I breathed against her cheek, as my hands grasped each of her hips and slowly slid around to rest on her flat abdomen. "You are so goddamed beautiful." I dragged my fingers up to her full right breast and slowly brushed the pad of my thumb across the hardened pink nipple as I placed hot, open-mouthed kisses just below her ear.

Her knees buckled and she thrust her chest out to try to get further contact, but I held out on her. I had a firm grip on her wrists locked behind my neck so she couldn't move her arms. I wanted to torture her like she constantly tortured me.

"Ranger," she whimpered. She struggled a bit against me but I stood firm.

"Shhhh," I soothed into her ear as I continued my feather-light assault on her nipple. "Tell me how you like this." I switched arms and held her wrists tight around my neck with my right hand and teased her left nipple with my other thumb, rolling it gently between two fingers and tugging lightly.

Steph's knees buckled again and I pulled her upright again before she hit the floor. I began suckling on the other side of her neck and a frustrated whimper escaped her throat when, a few excruciating minutes later, I switched my agonizing torture back over to her other hypersensitive nipple, repeating the rolling and tugging.

"I - I'm coming," she gasped out, trying with all her might to yank her wrists from my grip as her head fell back against my shoulder again. I quickly dragged my hand away from her breast down to her folds and found her hot and slick and dripping for me. I thrust two of my fingers deeply into her wet depths and sure enough, she was contracting tightly around my hand. She cried out as I groaned long and loud against her neck, my digits moving deeply inside her and hitting her g-spot in just the right way to drive -

Bleeeeep! Fucking cell phone. I was shaking like a leaf and threatening to spill my molten heat into my basketball shorts while on an endless road trip back from hell. I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles to try to get control and slowed my breathing before answering.

"What?" I barked to Lester.

"Just wanted to let you know that the computer searches that you requested are done," he informed me. "Am I authorized to punch out and head upstairs to my apartment? Because I've got Jovana up there waiting on me and -

"Please spare me the details of the remaining part of that statement," I interrupted darkly. "If you can handle things with one hand, then more power to you. And to Jovana, for dealing with it. Just make sure you print out the reports from the searches and put them on my desk before you go."

"Ten-four, Bossman. And by the way, one hand is all you need in order to -

I quickly disconnected before things deteriorated rapidly. I passed an overhead highway sign alerting me that I was now in New York and I'd never in my life been so happy to be in the Big Apple. If I received no more torturous phone calls from Stephanie, I might make it back to Trenton without an accident on the highway. Or in my fucking pants.

I tore through Newark at top speed and was pleased to see that I still didn't have the need to refuel. I didn't want to waste precious moments at Chevron, pumping gas into the Tahoe.

At eleven thirty-eight, I was rocketing into the underground garage at Haywood and tearing past a confused Binkie at the guard gate. I squealed to a stop in a parking space and grabbed my cell before slamming myself out of the SUV. I'd come back for my duffel bag later. Much later.

I tried composing myself in the elevator on the way up to seven, but my mind was racing with all the possiblities of Stephanie's seductive whereabouts. Was she naked in my bed, waiting for me? Was she lathering up with Bulgari in my shower? Was she sitting spread-legged on my granite kitchen countertop in a lacy red teddy? Christ. Was it me or was this fucking elevator crawling tonight?

I got my answer as soon as I tumbled the locks and pushed the door open. I crept down the hall and peeked into my bedroom. Asleep in my bed, surrounded by covers and pillows, lay Stephanie Plum. Seductress Extraordinaire.

My disappointment wasn't hard to hide. Sighing, I stripped down and padded barefoot across the room to stand beside the bed. She was on her back, her curls wild and fanned out over the pillows, her naked curves hidden underneath my 300 thread count sheets. Her breathing was deep and even as she slept, as she was completely oblivious to my presence. I gently pulled the covers back and climbed in beside her before propping myself up on my elbow to watch as she slumbered peacefully. She was so goddamned beautiful.

I reached a hand down to her curls and parted her folds, finding her moist and dewey from her prior exertions. I stroked her gently, up and down, feeling her silky skin beneath the pads of my fingertips. She stirred awake then and her eyelashes fluttered open sleepily as she turned to face me.

"Ranger?" she mumbled. Her body registered what my fingers were doing to it and I felt a trickle of her fluids drip onto my fingers. She drew her bottom lip into her mouth as her eyes darkened.

"Babe," I husked out. "What happened to the seduction plans?"

"I - I fell asleep," she admitted softly, becoming more awake. I applied a little more pressure to her swollen nub and watched as Steph's head relaxed back into the pillow. "God, what you're doing feels so good."

"It gets better." I gently inserted my middle finger into her wetness and Stephanie cried out, unable to control her body as she arched against my hand. "That's it, baby. Just feel."

Steph whimpered and ground against my hand. I added a second finger and she came immediately, long and hard, rocking forcefully against my hand as her slick walls contracted around my digits. I replaced my fingers with my hard length and she was so hot and wet around me that I nearly lost control right from the start. She felt so fucking good.

"Christ, you had me in a state the whole way here," I growled against her neck as she thrust up to meet my hips.

"That was the plan, Ranger," came the breathless reply. I began pounding into her in the most primal way, needing to feel her so tight and hot around me. All of the night's mounting frustration poured out of me then and I knew we wouldn't last long. I pulled her front against mine as we rocked together and buried my tongue deep in her mouth to taste her sweetness. Her contractions began, squeezing me long and tight as her muffled cries of pleasure filled my mouth. I urged her on when she hit her climax, her head thrown back and her eyes shut. It wasn't long before her spasms set me off and I emptied myself deep inside of her body with a long, loud groan. Yessssss. Finally. Finally, I found release as I shouted her name and kissed tears from her cheeks.

We lay together, overcome with exhaustion and what I could only describe as complete satiety. I held Stephanie in my arms and placed her head on my chest over my pounding heartbeat. She gently ran her fingertips up and down my side as we worked to control our breathing.

"I'm not letting you go this time," I whispered to Stephanie before gently kissing her swollen lips.

"You'd better not, Ranger," she whispered back.

"I love you, babe."

A grin of triumph spread across her face and her bright blue eyes lit up before she hungrily kissed me back. Yeah. She loved me, too.

The end! Let me know how you guys liked it.