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Molotov Cocktail by Marteeka Karland

Molotov Cocktail
Wanted, Book 3
by Marteeka Karland

Changeling Press

eBook BIN: 05594-01792

Hawk has been baffled by Onyx since he first met her. The woman defies all reason, teasing him to distraction only to rebuff him at every turn. A man can only take so much, and when Onyx defies his orders in the heat of battle, Hawk decides to show her what a fiery explosion a Molotov Cocktail can really ignite.

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Chapter One

“It doesn’t matter who I am.” Onyx leaned casually against the bulkhead, never taking her eyes from Hawk. “What matters is that I’ve decided to make you my bitch. Do you think you can handle that?”
There was no way in the Universe Hawk would ever forget those words. They weren’t the first Onyx had spoken to him, but they had definitely been the most memorable. Every day since then, she’d tormented him to no end. She didn’t try to seduce him, only to play hard to get. She always gave the impression she was interested but in a way that made him feel she was the dominant. Hawk supposed most men would go along with it just to see what she’d do. Not him. He was a sexual dominant. Indeed, he was dominant in every aspect of life. He followed Yuri out of loyalty and respect, not because he couldn’t lead on his own.
Now, Hawk gripped the controls of the heavily armed but disguised war fighter. They were deep in Consolidation space. Now was not the time for Onyx to be playing her games. The damned woman sat in the co-pilot’s chair, looking at him. He hated it when she looked at him like that.
“Stop it,” he growled, fiddling with switches that didn’t need adjusting. Gods, he hated it when she sat there looking at him!
“Stop what?” The dark-skinned beauty merely smiled, shrugging her muscled shoulders. Onyx wasn’t an ordinary woman. Hawk would bet his ass she was enhanced, and most people found her five-foot eleven-inch frame intimidating. He found her impossibly sexy. She was built to take a hard ride, the kind of sex he needed, craved. He hated that he found her sexy. Especially now.
“Stop looking at me.” His jaw ached from clenching his teeth.
“But there’s…” She hissed the last syllable, letting it drag out. “So very much to look at.” Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw she lounged in the seat, elbow propped on the arm, looking at him as if he were a prime piece of meat and she was starving, her gaze centered squarely on his lap.
He felt naked. Exposed. With her watching him with such scrutiny, he had the silly urge to cover himself. The fact he was six-foot nine and over three hundred pounds of solid, space marine muscle made the feeling that much more annoying.
As if her very presence wasn’t tempting enough, she had to wear that leather V-cut vest that accented those temptingly full breasts. Lean, strong muscle sculpted her arms and leather-clad legs. He’d often fantasized about how hard those legs could hug his waist as he surged into her with long, sure strokes…
Fuck! How the hell was he supposed to concentrate?
“I don’t know why you insisted on coming along. You’ve done nothing but sit there.” For which he was thankful, though he’d never admit it. Had she actually moved about the small ship with him, they were liable to come into actual physical contact and then he’d have to fuck her. Hawk knew his abilities, and keeping his dick in his pants if she actually touched him was definitely beyond him.
“Oh, but I do so enjoy the view.” Her voice was low, sultry. “Besides, I had nothing better to do. Pulling your team member’s ass out of a hot situation seemed interesting enough. Yuri would never forgive you if you got hurt, and I can’t have a little thing like bodily harm come between you and your best friend.”
Hawk refused to rise to the bait. Staring straight ahead at — well, nothing really — he tried to simply ignore her. Maybe, if he were lucky, she’d go away.
He chanced a glance in her direction. Nope. Still there. And she was skimming the edge of her top with her fingers. Back and forth, almost absently. If it were his fingers skimming her top, he’d trace the swell of each breast before simply ripping away that infuriating, offending garment. He hated that stupid top. It revealed much more than it concealed, yet didn’t reveal enough. There were only so many things a man could take, and Onyx seemed to be pushing every single one of his buttons as hard and as fast as she could.
Time passed. She didn’t move. Hawk had relaxed somewhat, his raging hard-on now only a minor nuisance. They were almost to the station where Storm, his comrade and fellow marine, was being held. If their intel was correct, the station was one of many prisons constructed in plain sight. The outer rings of the station functioned as they were supposed to, housing shops, bars and overnight accommodations for deep space travelers. The inner hub, however, held closely guarded prisons where the captives were tortured for information before being exterminated. Hawk only hoped Storm could feed them enough accurate information to keep himself alive until he got there.
It was part of their private training when they were kids. Raised soldiers, Hawk, Storm, Yuri and Demetri had all gone through extensive interrogation resistance training. The Consolidation had long since discarded that practice in favor of explosive implants the soldier could detonate if he were captured with no hope of escape. The four of them had managed to avoid that particular device because they’d defected and gone rogue. Which, unfortunately, made them wanted men.
Hawk had just switched on the autopilot for the remainder of the trip, as the flight path had to be precise to the kilometer, when Onyx slid one leather-clad leg over his lap, straddling him so they were face to face. Her fingers traced the scars on his face. It was all Hawk could do not to flinch at her touch. Whoever said chicks dig scars obviously hadn’t seen his. His skin was a criss-cross of fine white lines.
“You should smile more, you know,” she said almost absently. “You really do have a handsome face.”
When she slid her body so seductively against his, Hawk sank his fingers into her curves in a bruising grip. How much was a man supposed to take? She was practically begging him to take her!
She stared at him as if she were fascinated by him. Handsome, indeed. He was heavily battle scarred. There was nothing handsome about him and hadn’t been since he was a youth. He was freakishly large, too. Women might find him an interesting pastime, or a dangerous warrior with whom to live out a fleeting fantasy, but no one thought him handsome.
Just as abruptly as she’d invaded his personal space, Onyx slid with cat-like grace from his lap. She flashed him a teasing smile before turning and going to the rear of the ship. Hawk just sat there. Sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip. Painfully hard, his erection strained his breeches and he almost groaned aloud. The woman would be the death of him.
He wanted to say something harsh and grating to drive her away, but the words wouldn’t come. Hell, he doubted he could string two words together coherently at the moment.
Her musical laughter had him grinding his teeth.
“You really have no clue what to do with me, do you, Hawk?” She was laughing at him.
Unfortunately, they were too close to Nova Station for him to prove to her exactly how wrong she was. Hawk sprang to his feet and stalked across the distance separating them in three long strides. He caught her wrists, shoving them up against the bulkhead, holding them in place with one hand. “You’re trying my patience, woman.”
Onyx raised one delicately arched eyebrow at him. “And just what are you planning on doing about it, hmm?”
Her taunting amusement was enough to make a saint crack. Hawk was no saint.
Violence simmering beneath the surface of what remained of his composure, Hawk swooped down to claim her mouth with his. He didn’t try to soften the blow or protect her from the force of his need. He mashed her against the bulkhead with his, uncaring if he hurt her. She had tormented him for the better part of six hours. Hell, she’d been tormenting him since the moment he met her, and it was time for payback.
Lust and passion burned hot inside his gut, straining for release, begging him to rip the clothes from her delectable body and fuck her silly. He thrust his tongue deep — just like he wanted to thrust his cock. He didn’t care if he buried himself in her mouth, pussy or ass as long as he got relief from the perpetual hard-on she’d given him.
He held her there, claiming her, mastering her. Only she kissed him right back with just as much vigor and passion as he kissed her. Hawk nipped her lower lip, a small punishment she gave right back to him. Hawk wasn’t certain she hadn’t brought blood with her nip. Not that he cared. She warred with him for dominance, and he absolutely could not let her have control. Would not.
Mashing his body against hers even harder, pinning her in place, Hawk continued his assault on her. And he didn’t try to fool himself into believing it was anything other than an assault. There was nothing tender or loving about his possession of her. He sought only to punish her for teasing him so unmercifully during the journey.
His tongue invaded. Hers invaded right back. He pressed hard against her. She thrust against him. It was a battle of wills neither of them seemed destined to win. Strangely, it made Hawk all the hotter. He would have this woman. He would have her begging him to take her while she writhed beneath him. It was a promise he made to both of them, and Hawk never broke his word.

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