GetOn by Regina Cole Page A

whisper, pushing back against
him. “Do it, now!”
    Her pussy had been so wet, and that moisture helped him now.
His cock slid into her tight hole as if it belonged there, slipping past the
ring of muscle that fought him only briefly. Her pussy had been tight, but her
ass? It gripped him as though it never wanted to let go.
    He moved slower at first, but Mia thrust back against him
and he lost his head. Three thrusts, four, tight and hot and wanting and
needing more, and then he bent over her back and reached between her legs,
finding that tiny little ring that guarded her clit. He timed his thrusts with
the movements of his hands, faster and harder and rougher until she gasped,
bucking against him and forcing him inside her to the hilt.
    As she writhed, he lost all control, spending himself while
deep inside her. His cock spasmed and jerked, and Garrett held her close to his
chest as the pleasure ripped through him, leaving his knees weak and his head
light.
    He rested against her wild curls, his heart roaring in his
ears.
    “Holy shit,” Mia said breathlessly.
    He couldn’t agree more.

Chapter Seven
     
    Mia’s heart thumped hard against the motorcycle seat beneath
her, and she was grateful for how sturdy the bike felt. With Garrett’s body
pressing against hers from above, she could almost pretend her brain wasn’t
floating somewhere near the ceiling. Her body thrummed with pleasure, her
breaths as loud as his in the silence of the warehouse.
    Until several quick gunshots echoed through the space.
    Mia cried out in alarm as Garrett jerked backward, cursing.
    “Goddammit,” he hissed as he jerked up his pants. “Trent!”
    He disappeared up the stairs before Mia could get her pants
back on. She grabbed her shoes and ran barefoot up to the second floor after
Garrett, loud bangs still echoing through the large building. By the time she’d
made her way to the office, the shots had stopped.
    “It’s the cops,” Trent said calmly from his position by the
window, lowering his binoculars.
    “Ford?” Garrett snapped, bending to the camera.
    “No, not him. Someone I’ve never seen before. Cops stopped
him before he could go into the shop, then the idiot pulled a gun.”
    “Shit,” Garrett said, straightening. “No way in hell Ford’ll
show up now.” He turned to the wall, hands on his hips. “Fuck!” His fist shot
out, sinking into the sagging plaster. Mia stumbled backward as white dust
fell.
    “Easy, man,” Trent said in his low voice. “They’ll have to
reschedule the drop. We’ll get them on the next round.”
    Mia bit her lip as she watched Garrett’s face. His frown was
pronounced, jaw tight, eyes hooded as he turned back to Trent. “Don’t have a
choice, do we.”
    It wasn’t a question, but Trent nodded anyway. “It’ll be
fine. Let me do some checking around and…”
    Mia wrapped her arms around her middle, tucking herself into
the corner of the room as Garrett and Trent talked. Even though the drop hadn’t
happened, and there was nothing for Garrett to have seen, she couldn’t shake
the guilty feeling that was creeping up her spine. Light from the streetlamp
outside the warehouse streamed through the window, a single yellowed beam
illuminating the strong planes of his somber face.
    She hadn’t meant for things to turn physical between them
downstairs. Was he mad at her now, for taking him away from his post?
    Well, he shouldn’t be. He was the one who’d gone down there
in the first place.
    Her body warmed at the memory of the way he’d bent her over
his bike, fucking her like a wild man. Her nipples tightened, aching at the
thought. He was hot, there was no denying that. But it wasn’t smart for her to
get too involved with him. That was painfully clear.
    Garrett and Trent finished talking and started packing up
the surveillance equipment at a leisurely pace. Mia figured they had to wait
out the cops still milling about in the street below. Garrett looked over at
her once, his