Chapter 27

Steph

I awoke to the tantalising smell of coffee with a warm body pressed up behind me. Sensual lips trailed kisses over my bare shoulder and down my arm while a hand rested gently, almost innocently on my hip, radiating heat there, even through the sheet. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, but I kept my eyes shut, not daring to open them and end the decadent dream I was having.

I gave a little stretch before nestling further into the pillow to enjoy the phantom sensations my mind had decided to provide for me. A low growl filled my ear, vibrating through my chest and sending a thrill down my spine to pool in my lower belly. I wiggled a little closer to the warmth, pressing my ass into their crotch and moaning at the size of the erection straining there.

In the next moment, I was flipped on my back, pinned to the bed by the weight of the body that had been caressing me. My eyes flew open on a gasp. and I found myself trapped in the molten chocolate gaze of one Ricardo Carlos Manoso. Desire pooled instantly as the memories of the previous night flooded my brain, prompted by that gorgeous smile and the familiarity of his weight sinking me into the mattress.

"Morning, Babe," he rumbled, his grin growing as he brushed hair out of my face.

"Morning," I replied. My voice was breathy and held a slight rasp, probably from the amount of screaming he'd driven me to last night. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he allowed me to pull him down for a kiss. His tongue swept inside the second our lips connected, drawing out a moan from somewhere deep inside me. My fingers delved into his hair, damp from a recent shower, and I briefly wondered how long he'd been up before this wakeup call.

"I could get used to waking up like this," I sighed when he broke from my mouth to trail blazing, open-mouthed kisses down my neck, over my collarbone to my chest, my breasts. He pinched a nipple between his teeth, and I absently wondered where the sheet had gone, but all thoughts were washed away when his mouth returned to mine and his hand wandered south.

"I'd wake you like this every day if I could," Carlos said against my lips, our breaths mingling as he stared directly into my eyes. Another shiver of desire shot through me, flooding my core just as Carlos's nimble fingers slipped between my folds. "So wet for me," he groaned with approval, delivering languid kisses to my neck once more as he dragged his fingers through the moisture he'd found. "So ready." He found my clit, and rubbed a circle around it, careful not to touch it directly, but causing me to cry out and beg for more all the same. "So needy."

And then his hand was gone. The delicious pressure of his chest against mine vanished. I shivered and cried out for a completely different reason as my eyes flew open, trying to figure out what was happening, where he'd gone. Was I dreaming after all?

He was knelt beside me, staring down at me like I was a laden buffet and he was a starving man, ready to devour. This new position allowed me to see the rippling muscles of his bare chest, the clear tent in the front of his black boxers. He looked to be fighting some internal battle as he speared a hand through his hair.

"Why?" I whined.

"Patience, Babe." He sent me one of his knowing half-smiles. "We have the whole weekend ahead of us."

I didn't care how long we had. I wanted more now. I pressed my thighs together, chasing the friction, the pressure he'd teased me with. One of my hands palmed my now aching breast while the other reached across the small void between us and latched on to the bunched fabric of his boxers, inefficiently attempting to pull him back to me. I moaned loud and low, pleading, "Please, Carlos."

His eyes sparked, but my pleas did nothing to urge him into action. "You're so beautiful like this, Babe," he said. One hand ghosted up my arm from wrist to elbow while the other rubbed over his still hidden erection. Once. Twice. Three times. He let out a groan of his own before forcing his hand away, fisting it on his thigh as his eyes swept a fiery trail down my exposed body. "Show me what you want," he instructed, his voice so gravelly with desire I felt the vibrations rumble through me even without a physical connection, which only served to heighten the sensations rushing through me in waves. "Show me what you need."

Keeping my one hand clenched in that black silk, I let the other start a slow journey down over my stomach. My thighs were still pressing together as I brought my feet up to plant them on the bed, but as my hand reached the apex, I let my knees fall open, the cool morning air caressing my moist heat as my middle finger slipped between the folds to start slow, controlled circles on the little bud there.

Another moan spilled from my lips in harmony with Carlos. He continued his gentle caress of my forearm, but made no move to touch anywhere else. The weight of his gaze on my most intimate area as he avidly watched my movements only increased the pleasure winding me tight.

I was breathing heavily as my speed and pressure increased on my clit, occasionally sweeping down to my entrance, delving inside just enough to tease myself before returning my attention to that sensitive bud. And all the while, I kept my heavy lidded gaze locked on Carlos's beautiful face. His rapt expression glued to what I was doing, as it clearly affected him as well. His lips were parted, eyes hooded, and as I trailed my eyes down, I discovered his hand had returned to his erection. This spurred me on even more. My hips rolled wantonly as I chased my release, soaring higher and higher, so desperate to reach the peak.

And then Carlos's hands were on me again, dragging mine away from his boxers to accompany his to my breast. The head from his palm enveloped the globe, not pinching, not squeezing, just holding it for a second before he positioned my hand on top of his. His other hand then gripped the one that had been busy down below, working hard to bring me to orgasm. I screamed in frustration when he pulled my hand away, preventing me from leaping off that final edge into pure bliss.

"Carlos!" I complained, attempting to free myself from his grasp, to get back to that precipice. He wanted me to show him what I needed, but now he was denying me. And with every passing second, I could feel my orgasm slipping further and further out of reach.

He brought my fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth to taste the juices they had accumulated, but even as I clenched my thighs together once more, it wasn't enough.

"Please!" I cried as he released the final digit with a wet pop, holding my gaze the entire time.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered my hand back down, releasing his grip and allowing me to touch myself once more. The relief lasted only long enough for him to nudge my knees further apart, though. Just long enough for me to get in a handful of frenzied strokes before he broke my contact again, this time by slipping his own fingers beneath mine, touching, but not moving. I tried to buck my hips, to regain control of the ministration of my clit, but he wouldn't budge, and he wasn't touching me in the right way to allow me to just use his fingers.

I was whining, growling, my head thrashing side to side on the pillow, ready to demand he move or get out, but unable to find the words in my pleasure-addled brain, when he leaned down to capture my mouth once more, kissing me for all he was worth. Sweeping his tongue inside. Fuelling my fire.

After an indeterminate length of time, he pulled back just enough to hold my unfocused gaze, our breaths mingling once more.

"Teach me," he requested, giving the lightest squeeze of my breast and a barely there twitch of his fingers against my clit. "Teach me how to bring you pleasure. Show me how you like to be touched. Guide my hands. Make yourself come from my touch."

It took me far too long to understand what he was saying with all the desperation keeping me wound tight, but as his words finally filtered into my brain and latched onto meaning, I let out a moan. I loosened my grip on the hand that had been clawed into his at my breast, squeezing myself via his pliable touch. The feel of his calloused fingers against my soft flesh only served to make the sensations more intense.

I continued like this, focusing only on my breast for a long moment, guiding my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezing tight to get that zing of pleasure straight to my core. I had him roll it back and forth a few times, varying the pressure before pinching again, gasping and bucking my hips. And all the while, I kept the tangled hands between my legs still. Just a presence, a warmth, a suggestion of more to come. Part of me wanted to forge ahead, to find my release and relieve the almost uncomfortable tension winding tighter and tighter inside me. But no one had ever gone out of their way to learn what I liked in bed before. Sure, they'd figured out just the right way to touch, caress and rub to get me off, but it had never felt like it was for me. My orgasm had always been a means to an end for them. If they could get me off first, they wouldn't feel guilty for blowing their load.

But not Carlos.

He'd proven himself to be an expert lover last night, taking me to heights I never would have dared imagine before. He clearly knew his way around a woman's body, and was still determined to learn how I liked to be touched. How I touched myself.

Panting, I dragged his hand to the other side of my chest, positioning it on my breast just so and just held it there. I leaned up to kiss him briefly before flopping back to the pillows and releasing his hand. "Show me what you learned."

Perhaps it was his prior knowledge, or perhaps he was an extraordinarily quick study, but by the time he'd replicated my exact actions on the other breast, I was once again so close to the cliff I could almost see the road runner ready to push and anvil over the edge. And we hadn't even started back in on my clit.

"How's that?" he asked, returning to the first breast, and repeating the actions again, not doing any more or less than what I'd shown him.

"Yes." I nodded emphatically, holding his gaze. "Good. More. Kiss me."

His lips curved, eyes darkening as he closed in. I met him halfway, lifting my head from the pillow to capture his lips sooner before slowly lowering it back down. He followed readily, allowing me to take the lead, to take what I wanted from his lips as I was taking what I needed from his hands. As he continued to knead and pinch my breasts, I reached my spare hand down to join the other in my nether regions, removing Carlos's hand from my clit and blindly curling his fingers into a position where I could grip his hand and direct the extended index finger to where I needed them.

I started slowly, tracing a slow circle around the nub with the pad of his finger. And again. On the third time round, though still not touching my clit directly, I pressed a little harder, coinciding with the exact moment Carlos pinched my nipple and I had to break the kiss on a gasp, turning my head away to suck in frantic breaths. I wasn't going to last much longer.

"Don't turn away," Carlos said, abandoning my breast to bring my face back to him with a hand on my cheek. "I want to see the way your eyes sparkle when you make yourself come by my hands."

I nodded, my breathing so ragged that I couldn't form words. Our gazes were locked as I drew the pad of his finger over my clit for the first time, crying out at the sensation. And just like that, it was like something snapped inside me. I was frantic. Desperate. My orgasm was so close. Winding tighter and tighter as the pace of our ministrations increased. I swept his finger down to my entrance just as I would if I was alone, doing this with my own hands, barely pressing inside before returning to my clit. Rubbing. My hips jerking. My inner muscles clenching. I was on the edge. So close. So close! And then…

Soaring. Flying. Crying out. Shattering apart.

My movements slowed as my orgasm crested and began washing back out to sea. Drawing it out slightly, but so sensitive that I couldn't take more than just pressing Carlos's finger firmly against that little nub while every muscle in my body began to relax.

"Babe." His voice sounded far away, drowned out by the roaring in my ears, the harsh panting of my breath, but the reverence in his tone was clear. He lifted my hand that had been resting nearby the action on my thigh, kissing each fingertip, the palm, the wrist. "Muy hermosa. Gorgeous." He trailed off into a slate of Spanish that I couldn't understand, but the intent behind his words was clear as he continued caressing, kissing. When I calmed right down, he lifted the hand that had remained pressed to my clit, giving it the same treatment as he stretched out beside me. His body pressed to my side from chest to knee, and especially at my hip.

"We're not done," he informed me, settling my hands on my stomach, trapped beneath one of his. "We're nowhere near done. We're going to explore all the best ways to bring you pleasure."

"And you?" I asked, still out of breath and absolutely boneless. I couldn't remember a time I'd felt this good, so if I could return even a fraction of this favour to him… "You'll teach me to play your body like a fiddle, too?"

Carlos chuckled, tucking one of my curls behind my ear. "It would be my pleasure."

A snort burst from me as I rolled over, throwing my leg over his waist and urging him to lie back. "Yeah," I agreed. "That's kinda the idea."

*o*

Monday morning, I awoke to the same tender kissing treatment I'd experienced several times throughout the weekend, but with one key difference that I perceived immediately: Carlos was fully clothed. I groaned and rolled onto my back, squinting up at him where he sat on the edge of the mattress, coffee mug in hand.

"Morning, Babe," he greeted, rubbing one hand up and down my arm, adding stimulation to ensure I didn't fall back to sleep immediately.

"Time's it?" I asked groggily.

"It's early," he said vaguely. "I have meetings this morning. Have to get to work." I made a move to sit up, but he shook his head, keeping me down. "No, you can sleep a while longer. Come in late, the boss won't mind."

A small smile spread across my lips. "Are you sure it won't result in a HR meeting?"

"Not if Tank knows what's good for him," Carlos stated in a no nonsense tone. "But we do need to have a meeting this afternoon about the takedown you did on Friday. It's no big deal. We'll talk about it more later." He leaned down to kiss me on the lips. I tasted the coffee on his tongue when he swept it inside and let out a moan.

If I weren't so exhausted from the weekend's activities, and he didn't have to get to the office, I might have considered pulling him back into the bed and having my way with him again. I couldn't believe I wanted more of this man after two whole days of nearly non-stop sex. I didn't think I would ever get enough of him, but I didn't want our whole relationship to revolve around sex. And there was absolutely no way I could muster the energy to go another round right now anyway.

Sighing, I released him and wriggled further down under the covers, closing my eyes briefly to calm the need lazily swirling inside me, but when I opened them again he was gone, and the alarm on my phone was blaring, and I felt like I'd woken up in a different dimension. I managed to disentangle myself from the sheets and lurch to the side of the bed to turn off the alarm, noting that it was now eight o'clock.

This made no sense to me. I usually got to work at nine, and between basic showering and feeding needs and the travel time on top of the 'I'm-up-but-I'm-not-existing' staring at the wall time, I liked to give myself an hour and a half in the mornings. Meaning my alarm was usually set for seven-thirty. It only took a moment of fumbling through the clock app on the phone to figure out that the alarm was, indeed, still set for seven-thirty and I had apparently been sleeping through the god-awful racket for the last half hour. It's a good thing Carlos already gave me permission to come in late, because there was no way I would make it on time.

I stumbled through a shower, and dressed in a pair of trousers and one of the stretchy tops Ella had embroidered for me and made my way out to the kitchen for coffee and breakfast. In the fridge, I found one of my pyrex containers that I usually used for leftovers with a note taped to the top of it. I didn't think Carlos was the type to leave love notes, and I was sort of correct, since all the note said was "Babe, Gotta keep your protein up" followed by reheating instructions. But the fact that he'd made me breakfast in advance, and left even that perfunctory note, showed that he cared and I found myself grinning like an idiot while I waited for the microwave to ding.

I ate the loaded omelette while talking to Rex about the weekend and my relationship with Carlos in general. He didn't appear too interested as he continued running in his wheel the entire time, but that didn't matter. And probably he already knew enough about what all had gone on over the weekend, since he'd been in the apartment the entire time, listening to the moaning and screaming. I hope we didn't scare the little guy.

When I pulled into the Rangeman parking garage, I was surprised my usual park near the elevator was still free, but decided not to question it, because despite the massage Carlos had given me last night to try to ensure I wasn't too stiff this morning, I was still feeling the aftereffects of using my muscles in ways that I hadn't had cause for in over a year. And it probably didn't help that the massage had led directly back to sex. So all in all, the short walk to the elevator was absolutely appreciated.

I went about my day as usual, fielding questions from the guys about various forms and reports and attending several departmental meetings to take minutes for them. Everything seemed normal enough. No one dared mention anything to me about the way I looked - there was a definite glow to my skin despite the outrageous frizz of my hair, even contained in a bun - or the fact that I was late. But there was one recurring event that had me rather confused.

A few times today, after I'd done a favour or answered a question for some of the guys, they'd ended the conversation with "Thanks, Bomber". I figured it was some sort of shorthand for a message of gratitude or something until Hank stuck his head into my cubicle around midday with a, "Hey Bomber," and proceeded to ask if I wanted to join him and a few of the guys in the breakroom for lunch.

I'd agreed, of course, but hadn't figured out a way to ask about the lingo before a call came in and they'd had to disperse. When Lester appeared at my cubicle half an hour later, though, I was knee deep in a Google search on military lingo, looking for any explanation of the term 'Bomber' that made sense in the contexts I'd heard used today.

"Oooh, serious concentration face," Lester said, leaning his ass on the edge of my desk and peering at the computer screen. "What are we doing?"

"Trying to figure out what' Bomber' means," I said distractedly, still scrolling through a list of acronyms that had so far proven useless.

"May I ask why?" Les enquired, sounding both amused and thoughtful.

I shook my head and abandoned the site, spinning my chair to face him. "Because at least six guys have used it today, and I don't understand."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Serious?"

I nodded.

"Give me an example of how they're using it," he requested, crossing his arms over his chest.

I explained the situations where it had been used and by the time I mentioned Hank's he was shaking with laughter. "What is it?!" I demanded, my mind filled with all sorts of derogatory terms and worrying about the impact my new relationship with Carlos might have had on this new development.

"Come on, Beautiful," he said rather than answer me directly. He straightened and held out a hand, tugging me to my feet when I took it and dragging me out of the cubicle over toward the breakroom. He stopped at the noticeboard outside the door that had become a sort of hall of fame and shame with pictures of the guys greatest hits and most epic fails. I'd been directed to this board when I'd first asked about Sharpie's nickname, and while I'd spent a great deal of time examining the board then, I hadn't given it a passing thought since.

Now, though, as I stood in front of the board and stared at the mess of photos and little notes of explanations, I was struck by the 8X10 print out that had been pinned right in the centre. It was of me, and the quality of the photo along with the contents suggested it had been taken from the body cam footage of one of the guys present at the takedown on Friday night. It captured the exact moment I'd thrown Nguyen over my shoulder, the man suspended in mid-air with just my grip on his arm anchoring him to the earth. My already short black dress that I'd picked out especially for Carlos that night was hitched even higher, revealing legs that looked impossibly long and so strong. My boobs were practically spilling out of the top of the dress and my hair and face looked gorgeous.

Lester taped the post-it note that had been stuck on the bottom corner of the still, drawing my attention to the scrawled words there.

Absolute Bombshell.

"I think Bomber is short for Bombshell," he explained when I just continued to stare. "It's not code. It's a nickname."