Naked Love

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  His mouth fell open. “I honestly wouldn’t give a fuck, Cara.”

  If he’d said anything else, she’d maybe have continued to be polite, even grateful to see him, but what the hell had she done to him…at least tonight? “Great. Continue not giving a fuck somewhere else.”

  He glared at her, then pushed himself off the doorframe with a curse and turned, disappearing into the wind-churned downpour.

  Well, shit. She hadn’t meant that literally.

  “Come back here, you idiot,” she cried, shoving her feet into her sandals and running out onto the verandah.

  He turned around as lightning cracked overhead, casting him momentarily in bright blue light. “Go back to bed,” he called out as they were plunged back into stormy darkness.

  “It’s not safe!”

  All of a sudden he was in front of her again, like he didn’t care at all that he was running back and forth in a ticking time bomb of a storm. “You’re perfectly safe inside the house.”

  “I didn’t mean me.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “You couldn’t hear my shouting from the servants’ quarters,” she whispered. Her pulse jacked up. “Were you coming to see me?”

  “In the middle of a hurricane?” He gave her a long, hard look and shook his head. “That would be crazy.”

  Absolutely insane. She reached for him. His shirt was soaked right through to his skin. He felt warm for now, but he’d get cold soon. He needed a hot shower. “You strike me as only having a moderate claim on sanity anyway.”

  He laughed. “Sounds about right.”

  “I don’t have a bed,” she said, moving closer. Now the rain was whipping at her, too, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting close enough so their barbed words didn’t have any space to land between them.

  “What?” His voice was rough and husky as she tipped her face up to his. Rain drops fell from his hair, plopping on her cheeks, her lips…trailing down her throat. He wiped them away with his fingertips.

  “You said, go back to bed. I just have a sleeping bag inside a tent.”

  His hand stilled at the base of her throat, then his fingers curved and he collared her neck, lightly. Just for a second, then he let go. “Go back to it.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I have a bed.”

  “And a hot shower, right?” She licked her lips. “You need that. You’re soaked to the bone.”

  “You think I need a shower and a bed?”

  She nodded.

  “I only need one thing right now,” he said, his words ragged and torn as he hauled her against him. “And it can happen in a bed, or in the shower. Hell, it can happen in the middle of a hurricane for all I care. You just need to say the word, Cara.”

  “What word?”

  “Yes. Say yes, kitten.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, and before he could kiss her, she launched herself into his arms.

  * * *

  Mick had been lying on his bunk, wide awake, when the storm hit. As the wind raged, all he could think of was Cara alone in the house. How fiercely attached to the plantation she was, that she wouldn’t even leave during this vicious gale.

  He’d gotten up and paced back and forth, looking at the manor house every time it was lit up by the crack of lightning. As it sat in the middle of the clearing, at the top of the rise, it was getting the worst of the winds. Shingles were peeling off the roof. Shutters were shaking.

  Before he knew it, he was out the door, storming across the garden. He was only halfway aware that he was feeling panic—it pricked at the back of his mind, behind the rational thoughts he tried to order in front of it.

  Perfectly reasonable to go and check on a woman alone in a big house.

  They were neighbours of a sort.

  He was strong and capable.

  But while those were all true and valid thoughts, none of them were as true as the fact that he needed to see her in front on him.

  And when she screamed, that worry slammed to the front of everything else.

  You shouldn’t be alone mixed with let me hold you—but then they were snapping at each other again.

  His fear gave way to bitter frustration that they were going to go another few rounds of the push-me, pull-me game they’d been playing at, but Cara had surprised him.

  “Go back to bed.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  That was all he’d needed to hear. He’d just needed her to open herself up to him that little bit, enough to see that while yes, they were still at odds, and yes, they were still playing games…this attraction was real.

  His need was echoed in a very real way in her own need.

  Relief coursed through his veins as Cara threw herself at him.

  The storm had all but disappeared from his awareness as her hands slicked over his shoulders and her mouth collided with his. Her lips were full and soft, and before he could fully process just how good they felt against his skin, her tongue got into the game and his mind stuttered.

  The first taste of her was unexpectedly hot, like a lit match to dry, hungry tinder. A confession, of sorts, that she had wanted this as long as he had. Of course, for both of them that had only been three days.

  Three days.

  It felt like a lifetime. And her kiss—angry and sweet, desperate and still holding back, still tentative—said she felt that history as keenly as he did.

  In three days, they’d packed in a lot. One kiss, one night if he was lucky, wouldn’t erase all of it. Might even make it worse.

  But he’d asked her to say yes. And she’d not only said it, but she’d given herself to him to underline how much she meant it.

  He couldn’t let them burn themselves down. Couldn’t let them get too out of control. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and gave himself over to her kisses, the whole time thinking, we need to talk.

  “You’re soaking wet,” she whispered against his mouth.

  “Your tent?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Let’s make a run for your bed.”

  “You sure?” He was breathing hard, and he’d fall on his knees if she said no, but he needed to ask.

  She reached up and covered his hands with hers. “ I don’t know what’s going to happen in the morning, but yes I’m sure about tonight.”

  Another wave of relief slammed into him and he bent her backwards, kissing her hard before lacing his fingers through hers and running across the gardens, his leg screaming at him but he needed to get Cara inside before the next lightning strike.

  When they got to the smaller out building, he pushed through the door. He’d left an LED lantern on, hanging on a hook next to his bedroom door, and he guided her toward that pale blue light. In the doorway of his room, he stopped and peeled off his t-shirt. It was sopping wet, and he tossed it roughly in the direction of the bathroom.

  Hanging their clothes to dry could be tomorrow’s problem.

  Wordlessly, she followed suit, tugging off her almost equally wet tank top.

  His mouth went dry, because beneath that slim bit of cotton, she’d been wearing absolutely nothing.

  She dropped her arms to her sides and stood there waiting for him.

  Her breasts were beautiful, like the rest of her. Surprisingly full on her slim frame, with enough weight to sway as she moved. Brown nipples, already hard for him.

  With a quiet, guttural groan, he crowded against her and kissed her again, his hands eagerly diving into her hair, then down her shoulders and over her back, crushing her breasts against his chest. He wanted to fall to his knees and love them with his mouth, but there was time for that. No need to rush, although rushing was all he could think about. Getting inside her, taking her, claiming her.

  She was warm and soft in all the places where he was hard and cold, broken and brittle. And she pressed into him—into, not just against— winding herself right into his heart.

  He raked his hands into her hair again and leaned
over her, taking control of the embrace. He needed more of her tongue against his, more of the slick delight of her mouth. More of everything. Her breasts against his chest. Her hips pressing against his erection…

  With a groan, he dropped one hand to her ass. The sweet, cotton-covered flesh filled his hand as he shifted them together. Yes.

  “Yes…” Cara murmured as they moved together, tasting and teasing.

  Finally they were on the same page. “I want you spread out naked on my bed,” he groaned, kneading her bottom.

  “Yes,” she said again, her hands falling to his waistband. Her palm flattened over the heavy ridge of his erection and he froze.

  No. “Fuck.”

  “Yes,” she said, laughing. She leaned against him, nudging him backward into the dark bunk room.

  “Nope.” He hissed out a breath and fought with his dick to hang on a fucking second. “I mean, yes, naked, and yes, bed. But no…fucking.”

  She laughed. “Don’t feel like you need to be all gentlemanly on my behalf. I want you. Every way you want to take me.”

  Her words were more powerful than he imagined Viagra must be. His cock thumped against her hand and she squeezed his length, making an appreciative sound that didn’t help matters.

  “No condoms,” he finally burst out.

  She froze.

  For a minute, all he could hear was their erratic breathing and the howling storm outside.

  “Oh,” she finally said.

  “But naked is still good,” he said, more than a little desperation leaking into his voice.

  “Right.” She stepped back, and he practically lunged after her, but she held up her hand and gave him a gentle smile. “Well, then, we should make the naked part really count.” She grabbed the lantern from the hook and brought it into the room, setting it on the small table beside his bed. Then she flicked her gaze down to his shorts. “Strip for me.”

  His heart rate pulsed heavy in his neck as he licked his lips and dropped his hands to his fly. She wanted a show? He could do that.

  He flicked the button first, then ran his palm up the flat of his belly, over the ridges that were contracting all on their own. Every inch of him wanted to perform for her. He gave her a slow, heavy-lidded look before sliding his hand south again…and he kept going, past his zipper, to squeeze his erection the same way she had a minute earlier.

  An involuntary moan slipped over her lips, and he grinned as he slowly worked his zipper open, revealing the fact that he was commando underneath the heavy fabric.

  She took a quick step toward him, and it was his turn to hold up his hand.

  “Your turn, kitten.” She pressed her lips together in protest, but he wanted the same treat. He took himself in hand and stroked, slowly, showing her what she did to him. “I’ve been imagining you like his since the minute I laid eyes on you.”

  She smiled. “Before or after you growled at me?”

  “During.”

  She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and slid them down an inch, stretching them over the widest part of her hips. “This is a terrible idea, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve had worse.” He let himself rest his gaze on her breasts as they wiggled and jiggled as she turned from side to side. He was breathing heavy, each exhale moving his entire torso. The spell she had on him was something else.

  “You want me to stop?”

  “Not on your life.”

  She turned all the way around and shimmied the shorts lower still, showing him that he wasn’t the only one who’d only been wearing one layer of clothes.

  He sat back against his bunk, nearly whacking his head because all he could focus on was the round swell of her ass coming into view, then the long, dusky stretch of her legs, finally bare for him. All the way bare, from her delicate ankles up to the inner curve of her thighs, and the shadowy promise there.

  “Turn around,” he said, his voice a harsh interruption of her silent performance.

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder and smiled, then followed with the rest of her body. Her body was one endless, graceful curve, nipping and swaying in and out and around. She was slim, but lush, and he found himself stunned once again in the face of her beauty. “Cara…” He held out his hand and she came to him, blocking out the lantern light with her body as she climbed on top of him.

  Their next kiss was…well, it wasn’t a kiss so much as a low, slow, intoxicating slide into an altered universe. He wasn’t sure where he ended and she began as their hands and mouths and limbs entwined, twisting and rocking together on his bed.

  If he’d been cold before, he was burning up now. His cock throbbed between their bodies, hard and wet at the tip. Poor guy. Wouldn’t be getting what he wanted tonight, but there was more than one way to make love to a woman.

  Cara made him want to go up and down the list in every creative way possible.

  He rolled onto his back, positioning her on top of him, her thighs spread wide. He took a moment to appreciate the flex of her muscles under his palms, then squeezed up to her waist at the same time he licked his way down the valley between her breasts, breathing in her scent. It tugged at his gut in a way that went beyond the base male appreciation of a woman. Underneath the sexy layer of vanilla and tropical flowers lay another, sweeter essence that registered with him on a primal level. Mine.

  He was practically mauling her as she writhed above him, but he couldn’t get enough of her—the feel of her under his hands as he palmed her flesh, the taste of her on his tongue. Her nipples pebbled harder still as he stroked them and then sucked them deeper into his mouth.

  “Mick, oh my God, yes, yes…” She scratched her nails through his hair and he repeated that on the other nipple, teasing the first wet peak with his thumb. First a firm rub, then a pinch. She liked them both. With a rough, fast inhale, he set his teeth against the tip of her other breast and tested how much his girl liked a nip of pain.

  She arched into the air and cried out his name again.

  And when she came back down to him, her hips rocked back, seeking his cock.

  Fuck, that was so tempting.

  “I want you so much,” he ground out. “I want to be buried so deep inside you that you scream.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. It was his new favourite word. Yes. It had been frustrating to want her and not have her beneath him—or on top of him. But the wait had made this even sweeter.

  “But first, I want to taste you.”

  She leaned over him again, brushing her breasts against his hungry mouth. He swallowed the tips of her swollen flesh, back and forth until she was groaning, then he flipped them over.

  The bunk shook somewhat alarmingly. Don’t break on me, you fucking piece of shit. He leaned into her, giving her his weight as he kissed her mouth again. He wanted to get drunk on her, sip every last drop of her passion.

  He twisted his head and kissed her shoulder. Her arms. Another pass at breasts, squeezed together. If they got to do this again, he wanted her on her knees for him, wanted to slid his cock through that luscious cleavage that she hid oh-so-well beneath her flowy tops.

  And here he’d been thinking she’d been showing off her body.

  She’d been hiding the God damned Garden of Eden.

  Those round, spectacular breasts.

  The tightest waist he’d ever seen.

  And as he nosed down her belly…pure heaven.

  She whimpered as he slid his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her high enough that his mouth brushed against her core.

  No more foreplay.

  He needed to feast on her.

  This was going to be the main event tonight. He was going to make her come on his tongue, on his face. Over and over again until she was sated. Until he’d made saying yes completely and utterly worth her while.

  It was too dark to see her clearly, which he hated, but as he nuzzled her mound, then found the top of her slit, and her clit just beneath, he found himself reveling in the dimly
lit coupling. Their secret passion, protected by the dark and the storm.

  And here in his room, on his bed, Cara opened for him, giving him every last inch of her. He slowed down, ignoring the staccato pace his thudding heart wanted him to set.

  He was going to explore her folds slowly…carefully…and thoroughly. Find out where she liked the flat of his tongue and when she needed a firmer flick. If she liked having her lips sucked or nibbled, or she liked him working her clit as much as he enjoyed the feel of that firm, aroused bud in his mouth.

  When she started jerking up to meet his ministrations, he tightened his grip on her thigh with one hand and pressed the other against the flat of her belly.

  The immediate flood of moisture against his tongue told him she liked being held down. A lot.

  Fuck, he wanted to flip her over and rail her into the bed.

  He wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  But he wanted to so much his dick ached and he ground his hips against the mattress.

  “I’m getting close,” she whimpered.

  “Good. Come for me.”

  “No….” She shifted restlessly as he licked around her clit, faster now. “Yes….”

  “Yes.”

  “No!” She laughed and tangled her fingers in his hair, weakly tugging him away from her sex. “Come here.”

  He shook his head as he lifted up onto all fours. “Can’t.” Fucking liar. He could. His body wanted to so much it hurt.

  She licked her lips and glance between their bodies, down to where his dick bounced against her leg.

  Slow as molasses, she reached between them and like she had magnetic superpowers, he shifted up her body until his cock slid into her palm.

  With a tight grip, she stroked his length. Did she know that with each downward pulse, she rubbed his throbbing crown against her belly? That a bit of his pre-come wiped against her skin, marking her in hungry little licks?

  He braced his knees between her thighs, against the mattress, and held himself over her on one forearm. With his free hand, he caressed her, from her wet, parted lips, over her breasts and down her belly. Their arms jockeyed for a moment, and then he found her wet and open for him, ready for his fingers.