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Jungle Inferno (The Phoenix Agency Book 1) by Desiree Holt (1)


It was raining, a steady thrumming on the broad leaves of the trees and plants that formed a thick canopy over the jungle floor. By the time it reached the solid carpet of dead plants and rotting wood it was more like a mist, a curtain of steam that sat heavily on the skin.

Mark Halloran inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of vanilla and sarsaparilla plants mingling with that of the wild orchids. The dense rainforest of the Peruvian jungle held a wild mixture of flora whose perfume teased at the senses and conjured up images. Beneath the heavier fragrance of these and other plants like cinchona and cedar was the vague hint of the abundance of orchids growing in wild profusion.

But none so arousing as the scent of the woman in his arms. Light jasmine drifted from the silken fall of her hair and mingled with the sweetness of her body. And with the musk of her arousal. He ran his hand over the satiny surface of her skin, feeling every dip and hollow with the tips of his fingers. The indentation of her navel. The crease where hip and thigh joined.

Bending his head, he pulled a dusky nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before pressing it flat against the roof of his mouth. He was rewarded with a soft moan and an arching of Faith’s body that pushed the nipple deeper into his mouth. His hand molded the full swell of her breast, loving the feel of its weight in his palm.

His cock had been hard enough to drive nails from the moment they’d entered the tent that had been pitched for them. A jungle vacation with as many amenities as the rainforest had to offer. They’d nearly ripped their clothes in the urgency to get rid of them, to feel naked skin against naked skin. So many months had passed since they’d been together that he was afraid he’d blow before they even got started.

You’re Special Ops, asshole. You have legendary control. Use it now.

So he’d gritted his teeth and dialed it back as much as he could, willing himself to take the time to do this properly.

But just looking at her was enough to ramp up his simmering arousal. Her naked body was a work of art—lush hips and breasts, long legs, and at the juncture of her thighs, the soft nest of curls that hid the mysteries of her sex. A wet heat that scorched him, drowned him with the liquid of her passion. His only conflict was whether to fuck her first with his mouth or his cock. He’d barely contained himself enough to urge her down to the mat with him, so great was the need to take her where they stood.

He moved his mouth to the other nipple, poking at him so temptingly, and trailed his hand down her body over the soft swell of her tummy to the familiar wet heat. God, she was always so wet for him so quickly. How was he supposed to hold back?

Faith opened her thighs to his touch, and his thumb easily found the hot nub of her clitoris. As he pulled deeply on her taut nipple, his thumb brushed back and forth against the tiny bundle of nerves, drawing the little cries of pleasure from her that turned him on so much.

He lifted his head to brush his lips against hers, gently licking the seam of her lips, teasing at the corners, nipping lightly on the full lower one. He’d always been fascinated by the sensuous swell of those lips, loved kissing them and tasting them. Nipping on them. He thought he could spend hours just making love to her mouth.

When she opened them he slipped his tongue inside, scraping over the edge of her teeth to find the hot slickness of the skin. The touch of her small tongue against his sent arrows of heat jolting through him, straight to his throbbing cock and his aching balls.

Slow, asshole. Slow. Show her how much you appreciate her. How you feel about her.

He danced with her tongue, darting back and forth over its surface, while his thumb continued to work her clit in a slow, steady motion. Faith moaned again, the tight little sound echoing into his own mouth. Her hands pressed against his back, pulling him down closer to her.

When she bent her legs, planting her feet firmly on the woven mat, a silent invitation to explore further, he moved his hand until he could slide two fingers into her heat.

Oh, God. Hot! Hot, hot, hot!

She was so very wet, her inner walls slippery with her juices, her flesh pulsing against his fingers.

He tore his mouth away from her.

“I can’t wait any longer.” His voice was so hoarse he didn’t even recognize it.

“Then don’t,” she urged. “It’s been so long. I’m ready for you. Now.”

Mark reached for the foil packet he’d dropped beside them, ripped it open with his teeth, and extracted the latex sheath. Levering himself to his knees, he deftly rolled it on with one hand, ready for action.

But the sight of her wet, welcoming, pink flesh was so tempting, so mouth-watering that first he had to have a taste. He lowered his head, spread her lips wide with his thumbs, and lapped the length of her.


The long exhalation of pleasure sent another surge of heat through him. God, he loved those sounds. So he did it again. And again. Until he wasn’t sure exactly who he was teasing. Licking the sweet/tart taste of her from his lips, he positioned himself, pressing the head of his cock to her opening and with one hard roll of his hips thrust inside her.

Oh, Jesus!

Her inner walls clamped around him, and it was like being burned alive with the sweetest heat. He gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body tightening with the need for release, but he held himself still, taking time to enjoy the feel of her like a hot glove around him.

Faith lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist and dug her heels in at the small of his back, lifting to him as she did it.

“Jesus, Faith,” he groaned. “I’m hanging on by a thread, here.”

“I’m ready,” she hissed. “It’s been so long, don’t make me wait any longer. Please.”

“I can’t wait, either.”

Drawing in a long breath, he pounded into her, again and again, the slick walls of her cunt dragging at him with each thrust of his swollen shaft. Heat. Electricity. Power. It all flooded through him. Between them. Around them.

He couldn’t seem to control himself, slamming into her harder and harder. The muscles around his spine tingled and his balls tightened, and at the exact moment he feared he’d have to take the ride without her, she clenched around him and they exploded together.

He spurted again and again into the latex as her tight muscles clamped around him, milking him and drawing every last drop of release from him. At the peak of his orgasm he threw back his head and screamed her name.

Collapsing forward, he tried to catch his weight on his arms and rested his forehead on hers. His heart was hammering at what felt like a million beats a minute, and he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

Outside the tent macaws screeched and parrots squawked, a jungle symphony underscored by the noise of the howler monkeys. Nature’s music only enhanced the sensual heat of the rainforest that surrounded them.

A monkey screamed again, and sudden pain shooting through his leg wiped away every vestige of the sexual satisfaction that had woven around him. He tried to tighten his arms around Faith, but she wasn’t there. He wasn’t holding anyone.

And the pain that had shattered the dream lashed him again, shrieking through his body.

“So, Captain Halloran. You call the name of your beloved in your sleep. Perhaps we have made you too comfortable.”

Mark pried open his eyes and tried to look around. He was in a tent, all right, but there wasn’t anything sensual about it. He lay on jungle dirt rather than soft woven mats, and there was no Faith. No soft woman in his arms. No scent of anything but the stink of sweat and dirt, no one but the evil-looking man who seemed to take great pleasure in causing him pain by prodding his leg. His injured leg, he remembered.

A dream. It was all a dream. He was sweaty and grimy, and his leg hurt like hell. He tried to move it and discovered it was tied at the ankle to a stake.

And then it came back to him—the blown mission, the terrorist cell descending upon them. His team ambushed and killed. Him wounded and captured by the very terrorist and arms dealer they’d been sent to take out. He was somewhere in the stinking Peruvian jungle, and no one knew where the hell he was or even if he was alive.


He dropped his head back to the dirt and closed his eyes again.




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