Girl From Above #4: Trust Read Online Free Page B

what?
    “No?” She tugged at my pants and slipped her hand inside, curling her fingers around the part of me that really didn’t give a fuck what my head thought. “This doesn’t feel like a no.”
    Her whispers tickled my ear and the effect her words had on me surged a desperate need to fuck her hard and fast against the wall. Fucking Fran would dump a whole load of nonsense out of my head—until it was over, and then all that fucked up shit would rush back in, sink its barbs deep, and I’d need a whole load of whiskey to get myself leveled.
    “C’mon, Cale.” She worked my hand between her legs, guiding my fingers, her movements sloppy, her breaths short and fast. “We’re on a shithole of a planet whose entire population wants us dead. You can’t tell me that doesn’t get you up. You live for this shit. You run, you fight, you fuck, and you do it all like it’s your last few hours, because you know what it means to have nothing left. You know it might not last. Live for the now, Cale, and fuck me hard, puto .”
    I tore her pants open and sank my fingers inside her damp panties, finding that sweet little nub. Her breath hitched. She snatched at short, ragged gasps, her body twitching beneath the ride of my fingers.
    “Been thinking about this a while, huh?” I eased a finger deeper, felt her hips roll, and whatever was left of my common sense unraveled.
    She arched, threw her head back, and clamped her hand tight around my cock. We were both fucked up and this wouldn’t help, she’d use it against me, but I needed something—anything. Someone to tell me I was worth something to them. Someone to need me, even if this need was shallow and short-lived.
    I yanked her pants down, ran my grit-caked hands roughly over her hips, and cupped her ass, yanking her closer. She growled and fumbled my cock until I gritted my teeth, batted her hand away, picked her up, and pinned her back against the wall. Warm, wet, and ready—I had her exactly where I needed her. Her hips bucked, and I thrust inside so fucking deep I briefly lost my mind and nearly my load. Her fingernails dug into my ass, the pain enough to twist my pleasure back to manageable levels.
    “ Te echo de menos, ” she growled, making whatever that meant sound like a threat. Maybe it was. I just knew it flicked all my remaining switches to raging-on.
    A little adjustment—sand and dust burned—some fumbling, and then I found the rhythm.
    She clung on, one hand clamped on my ass while her other arm clutched at my back, and held me so damn close I could feel her heart thudding in her chest. Her breath hissed against my cheek. Harder. Faster. Deeper. I forgot about the ship, the explosives, Starscream , revenge, the Nine. But not One. I’d never forget her. Her brilliant eyes, her sharp intelligence, and the sweet innocence hidden inside the killer’s instinct.
    The need built, pleasure cresting. I tried to hold it back, to slow it, and pulled out to circle my finger over Fran’s clit before I lost control. She groaned, deep and low, hissing in Spanish. She wasn’t the same Fran I’d heard working over Turner. She was harder, more brutal and raw. Her body locked and arched. She let out a cry. I kissed her fast before we drew too much attention and sank two fingers deep inside her cunt, feeling her clench.
    Her hand found my cock crushed between us, slick and ready. She curled her fingers around me. I lasted a monumental three fucking seconds before blowing my load. Hips twitching and pleasure stalling so high it hurt, I slumped against her, grateful for the wall.
    Slowly, the sounds of the market filtered back in. Murmurs, rattling carts, the occasional bark of laughter. Reality. This was usually the part where I said the wrong thing, she slapped me, we traded insults, and then she fucked off to plot my imminent death. It might just have been worth it.
    “Don’t you feel ready to go steal that harrier now?” Fran asked, green eyes flashing.
    I