Midnight Action
Elle Kennedy
She’s got a broken heart... and a fully loaded arsenal.
Ex–army ranger Jim Morgan leads a team of elite mercenaries, but eighteen years ago in Paris, he was part of a black ops unit whose mission was to hunt down a rogue operative. In order to trap the criminal, Jim seduced Noelle, the man’s daughter—a ruthless act that cost him the love of his life and turned her into a mortal enemy. Now he can’t trust her, but he still desires her. He also needs her help....
Older, wiser, and unwilling to play the fool again, Noelle runs a group of highly skilled assassins. And she’s just been offered the hit of the century: Eliminate Jim Morgan. History gives them no reason to trust each other, but with their lives in jeopardy at the hands of a common enemy, the lines between love and hate are soon blurred. Now Noelle and Jim must face the past if they want to have a future—let alone a future together.
Hello everyone! Happy Thursday, the weekend is almost here! Today I have an awesome excerpt from Midnight Action, which is the fifth book in the Killer Instincts series!! Have you read Elle Kennedy before? Is this book on your list? What do you think of the excerpt and the cover? I tell ya what, after this excerpt I know I am all over this book - it's on my definite read list! Thanks for stopping by!
18+
Their dance might have seemed innocent to the people around
them, but each brush of their bodies heightened her arousal. Each time his palm
grazed her tailbone, her skin sizzled. Each time his cheek brushed hers, her
breathing grew more labored.
Still, no matter what Jim thought, she was a pro, and thus
perfectly capable of suppressing her desire.
Of course, that didn’t mean she had to stop testing his
ability to remain professional.
With a mischievous smile, she looked into his eyes and said,
“By the way, the shower blow job you mentioned before? I orgasmed the second I
swallowed that first drop.”
A strangled growl left his mouth.
And suddenly they weren’t dancing anymore. But still moving.
Moving very, very fast, in fact, as Jim dragged her toward the staircase on the
other side of the ballroom.
Morgan had no idea where he was going or what he was
thinking. He ignored the inquisitive eyes boring into his back as he gripped
Noelle’s hand and led her up the spiral staircase. He didn’t know where it led,
or where they’d end up— all he knew was that if he didn’t get inside this woman
right fucking now, he was going to pass out.
“Jim,” she said uneasily. “This isn’t the time to . . .”
She didn’t finish and he didn’t care. His lower body was
aching, his cock so stiff he could barely walk. He was a man on a mission, his
gaze focused straight ahead like a missile homing in on a target.
At the top of the stairs was a small landing opening into a
wide hallway with half a dozen doors, but the red velvet curtain to their left
was what caught his eye. Gripping Noelle’s forearm, he pushed open the thick
velvet and immediately liked what he saw— a shadowy space the size of an opera
box. No, it was an opera box, Morgan noted when he spotted the curved railing
at the edge and the row of plush, red-upholstered seats.
He turned to Noelle. “Come here,” he ordered.
She stayed put. “I don’t take orders from cavemen, thank you
very much.”
His gaze swept over her. He’d lied before. He was totally
digging the dress. And the hairdo. The shoes. The vixen-red lipstick. Christ,
he wanted to kiss those fuck-me lips more than he wanted his next breath.
“Come. Here,” he growled.
“Make me.”
Just like that, his control snapped like a bungee cord. Forget
breathing— his brain stopped working right along with his lungs, his vision
nothing but a thick haze of lust as he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her
toward the railing. He spun her around so she was against it, then moved in
behind her and ground his aching groin over her ass.
Noelle’s moan cut the air, soft enough that he doubted
anyone down below had heard it. And if they did, he didn’t give a fuck. He’d
turned into an animal, a desperate, hungry animal with one thought on his mind.
He scrunched up her dress and shoved the material all the
way up to her waist. She was still covered in the front, but naked from the
lower back down, and when he glimpsed her bare ass, a groan left his lips.
“Oh Jesus.” He stroked her tight buttocks with his palm, then
undid the button of his trousers.
Letting out a ragged breath, he reached inside his
boxer-briefs and pulled out his granite-hard cock. With Noelle in front of him,
he wasn’t worried about anyone catching a glimpse of the little soldier, but
there was nothing shielding her. If anyone in the ballroom so much as craned
their neck, they’d get a hell of an eyeful: Noelle bent over the railing,
fingers curled over the cool steel, cleavage spilling out of her dress.
Cursing softly, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her
backward, repositioning them so they were against the wall, several feet back
and out of view of any guests.
The second he rubbed the head of his cock along the crease
of her ass cheeks, she gasped in pleasure. “Oh God. Please.”
The quiet plea was enough to make him shudder.
Holding her dress up with one hand, he gripped her hip with
the other and drove into her from behind.
Fuuuuuck.
It felt so criminally good he literally saw stars. Heat and
moisture surrounded his erection, her inner muscles clamping around him like a
hot, pulsing glove. The sexual excitement burning in his blood was stronger
than any burst of desire he’d ever felt in his life.
But no, that wasn’t true. He’d experienced this same blast
of need before. Earlier today, when he’d been balls deep in Noelle. Nineteen
years ago, when he’d been buried inside the most beautiful girl in the world.
It was her. It was always her.
The realization spurred his emotions, propelled his hips
forward. He slammed into her, struggling for breath, desperately trying to hold
on to his crumbling restraint. But there was nothing controlled about this.
With Noelle, it was impossible to hold back.
His chin rested on her shoulder as his hips pistoned hard,
his cock furiously thrusting into her tight channel, over and over again. Her
unique scent drugged his senses, and the fine hairs at the nape of her neck
tickled his cheek and made him shiver.
A moan slipped out when his next thrust hit deep. “Oh God,”
she whispered. “More. Faster.”
The tempo went from fast to frantic, as he relinquished all
common sense and gave in to raw, primal need. His balls slapped Noelle’s
perfect ass with each demanding stroke, and he knew from her little mewls of
pleasure that she was getting close.
When she threw her head back and trembled in orgasm, it was
like stepping into a room engulfed in flames. His heart stopped and his body
burned, and triumph blinded his vision, because it was so rare to watch this
woman come apart. So rare to hear her throaty cry of surrender and see the
sated slump of her delicate shoulders.
“Coming,” he ground out. “Oh fuck.”
The hot waves of pleasure started deep in his balls and shot
out in every direction, turning his limbs to jelly and his mind to mush. His
release filled her, dripped down his still-hard shaft, and even as he tried to
catch his breath, he reached into his pocket for a black silk handkerchief and
hastily cleaned them up before their clothes got ruined.
The climax had been so intense he still saw black spots,
still had trouble breathing. With a hoarse groan, he withdrew from her tight
sheath and tucked his semierect cock back in his pants. As he zipped up his
trousers, the hem of Noelle’s dress slipped from his fingers, the silky
material floating to the floor with a soft rustle.
“How about now?” Her voice shook slightly as she turned to
face him. “Out of your system?”
“No,” he said thickly. “You?”
She opened her mouth, but was cut off by a sudden buzz of
voices from the ballroom. Frowning, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear
and approached the railing.
Morgan followed her, resting both hands on the steel rail as
he gazed below.
He immediately pinpointed the source of commotion. A small
crowd had formed near the ice sculpture he’d been admiring earlier, and holding
court in the center of the group was a man in a black tuxedo jacket and white
dress shirt.
“I think our host is here,” he said.
Noelle nodded. “Looks like it.”
They watched from the box, but the new arrival was blocked
from their view, surrounded by several taller men who didn’t seem inclined to
move out of the way. Morgan glimpsed a head of dark blond hair, an aristocratic
profile, and a flash of straight white teeth, but it wasn’t enough.
Annoyance filtered through him. “Let’s go downstairs. I
can’t see shit from here.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the crowd parted
to reveal the center of attention. Maurice Durand. The man was in his late
sixties. Medium height, fair complexion, handsome face . . . that face.
Morgan couldn’t quite place the man, but he knew him. He
wasn’t sure how, but— son of a bitch.
At that moment, Durand turned to speak to someone, offering
Morgan a perfect view of his eyes.
He froze, unable to fathom what he was seeing.
Those eyes.
The color of dark roast coffee, deep and intense and
completely unsuited for that lily-white skin and light hair.
In his lifetime, Morgan had come across only two people with
that particular combination of chocolate eyes and pale skin.
All the air seeped out of his lungs as his brain made the
connection.
“Ariana,” he breathed.
Elle Kennedy is a RITA-nominated author grew up in the
suburbs of Toronto, Ontario, and holds a B.A. in English from York University.
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