Running Wild

by Denise Eagan

  “Nicholas. . . Oh! I love that!”

  More light licks on her breast, before his mouth found the other breast. His fingers gently teased the first, her nipple still wet and slippery from his attentions. Closing her eyes, she gripped his shoulders as she lost herself in the marvelous sensation. Licks became suckling, setting off pulsating waves of pleasure. “Nicholas,” she gasped again. “I can’t take anymore—it must be time . . .”

  He didn’t listen. Instead, he gently scraped her nipple with his teeth, causing tiny shards of exquisite pain, which somehow added to the pleasure, especially when his tongue swept over it again. She buried her fingers in his hair, not sure if she was holding his head to her breast or trying to drag it away.

  Both . . . .

  His left hand skated down her waist to stroke the tender skin of her inner thigh. The resulting rush of thrills joined with those from his mouth on her breasts to pool between her legs. His hand crept nearer and nearer to her pulsing bud. He suckled her nipple again, then he blew hot air on it, bringing another mad rush. When she wiggled her hips, searching for release, he raised his head. His hand rested. Moaning, she opened her eyes.

  He was watching her, an expression on his face that she’d never seen before. Lust, mixed with deep affection—it flowed over her like a balmy ocean breeze, and settled around her heart.

  “Why . . . why did you stop?”

  “I wanted to see your eyes.” Holding her gaze, he let his fingers wander through her folds, teasing, caressing, exploring. Upon finding her cave, he inserted one, then two fingers, and her body closed convulsively around him.

  “Like that?” he asked, and flicked his thumb over her bud.

  “Oh,” she gasped, her hips jerking in reaction. “Yes.” Trembling, she reached for the bulge still hidden in his pants. “Now, Nicholas.”

  His muscles went rigid at her touch, and he clenched his jaw. “Not yet.” He withdrew his fingers, slick now with her juices, and stroked her pulsing bud. “Keep your eyes open. I want to see them when you come.”

  The vulgarity, spoken in his low, smooth voice, flashed along her nerves, creating rough carnal hunger. It spread across her belly, between her thighs, setting them to shaking. “No. . . Oh no, I can’t. . .” Her voiced drifted off, though, and she did as he asked. The pleasure built, harder, stronger, out of control, while his hot gaze held hers, silently urging her on. When she was mad with need, could bear no more, her back arched and her climax crashed over her in waves. “Nick . . . oh my. . .”

  His free hand tightened on her thigh. “Damn, Star,” he rasped. “Damn, but that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Still shaking, she reached for his pants. “It will be better with this.”

  “Soon,” he promised, and moved to the edge of the bed, where he tore off his clothes. When he returned to her, he was naked. She widened her gaze to view him fully, drinking in all his beautiful male strength. Reaching for him, she ran her hand over his lightly furred chest and followed the line of dark hair toward his hard pulsing organ. He shifted so that he was looming over her, his knees between her thighs, then swooped in to capture her breast in another torturous kiss. Her body, as if it hadn’t just found release, responded with a burst of excitement. He slid his mouth from her breast, downward, blazing a winding trail of tiny, wet kisses across the flat expanse of her ribcage toward her belly.

  “What are you doing?” Oh, he couldn’t mean to kiss her there, could he? She’d read of such things, but that was fiction.

  “I told you, I want you wild,” he said, then circled her belly button with his tongue.

  “You already did that. Nick. . .” Ignoring her objections, he continued the trail of kisses over her mound. “You can’t wish—”

  “I’m going to taste you.”

  “No—oh no, it can’t possibly taste good.”

  He adjusted his body to insert his fingers inside her, and she bucked as the fire of lust burned away all objection. She wanted to move, to use his fingers to bring quick release, except his breath was warming her private areas and every nerve in her body yearned for that next touch.

  One kiss, followed by another, a mere touch of his lips. She squirmed, holding back a desperate plea. He sucked in his breath, then expelled it, letting it flow over her in the lightest of all caresses. A low whimper escaped her.

  “Man alive, but I love the way you smell. . .” Another kiss, another whimper. “And the sounds you make when I touch you.” His tongue flicked out.

  She cried out.

  He withdrew his fingers and his tongue followed the path his fingers had made earlier, through the folds, leisurely exploring as desire curled in her belly and the tickle expanded. Her heart hammered; blood pounded in her ears. The tickle became an ache as she moaned and fought the writhing of her hips, fearful he’d stop. Her legs shook. “Oh good gracious,” she panted. “Please—I can’t—”

  Her body convulsed and pleasure burst through her, spreading outward in glorious contractions. She was hot, she was cold, she was beyond thought. He shifted. His fingers touched her again, opened her, and he drove inside, burying himself to the hilt. He withdrew, and then plunged into her once more, grinding against her. It set off another fierce explosion. She let out a tiny screech, mindlessly digging her nails into the sheets.

  “Damn,” Nicholas whispered, “damn, but you feel good.” She opened her eyes to find his countenance creased in a sort of tormented ecstasy. He leaned in for a rough, bruising kiss as he started thrusting, building excitement again.

  “Nick . . . oh . . . faster.”

  He inhaled sharply, moved to balance on his hands, and rammed into her, harder, faster, a runaway caress taking her deeper and deeper inside herself and pulling him along with her as pleasure swelled: impossible, unbearable. His harsh breath, her light moans, drowned out the patter of the rain, the crash of the waves. Everything, everything slipped away until the world was just the two of them, joining, merging. . . She felt him shake, his breath turned into a low, rumbling growl, and the explosion came, shooting them to paradise. As her orgasm rolled over her in wave after wondrous wave, welcoming him, he spilled inside her.

  “Star,” he rasped, collapsing next to her, his arm lying under her breasts. His breathing filled her ears as they lay there, tangled up in each other.

  “I suppose,” Star said, several minutes later, when the world started to take form around her again. “I suppose you were correct. I hadn’t seen anything yet.”

  His deep chuckle warmed her ear. “Sure am glad to hear that, ma’am,” he answered, in his best cowboy twang. “Wouldn’t want to be accused of bein’ a liar and that’s a fact.”

  Inhaling slowly, he rolled on to his side, propping his head up on his hand. His eyes shone affectionately. “So maybe this time I did justice to your expectations?” he asked with a wide smile.

  She smiled back as love spread through her body to join the glowing beauty of sexual fulfillment. “Oh no,” she answered, “for how could I ever have expected that? I truly had no idea it could be so . . . oh there are no words.”

  “Well that’s a first, you unable to speak.”

  “But look at what it took to bring me there!”

  He smiled and reached up to push a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “Not so much, ma’am.” He made “ma’am” into a caress, filling her heart to bursting. “Just two people finding a little enjoyment, is all.”

  “A little? Good gracious, Nicholas if that’s a little, I’m quite certain I should expire from a lot. And I am not a delicate woman, as you well know!”

  “No, you aren’t. Bet we could do it again in a little while, and you wouldn’t suffer a ’tall.”

  “Again?” she asked. “I hadn’t, thought . . . we could do it a third time?”

  “We could sure try.”

  “I believe,” she said, her pulses starting to quicken, “I believe I should like that.”

  “O.K.,” he said. In one smooth mo
ve, he rolled to his feet.

  “What are you doing?” She followed his movements with her eyes. Oh, what a divinely rounded bottom—

  “Getting under the sheets like most folk do when they’re naked,” he replied, grasping the sheet.

  “Ah.” She shifted to accommodate him. At his nod, she pulled the sheet over her and he slipped in next to her. He felt so right. “And so,” she ventured a ‘mite’ timidly. “All merriment aside, was it, well, the same for you? It could not have been better for me, but. . .”

  Emotion flashed through his eyes, warm and sweet. “Yeah, I reckon it was as good for me,” he said. “What I mean is—damn I’m not good at this kinda thing.” He took a deep breath. “This was the best, Star. Right here, this. With you.” Vulnerability softened his eyes and his face, exposing a tender inner core under all his cowboy toughness.

  A lump rose in her throat as she reached out to touch his face, sliding her thumb across his stubborn, stubbly jaw. “No doubt because you were half-drunk,” she replied tentatively.

  “I started sobering up as soon as you entered the room. It’s not the alcohol. It’s you.”

  She swallowed as she willed tears not to spring to her eyes. “But your women back in Colorado . . . I’m sure they’re skilled in ways I am not and can—”

  Shaking his head, he stopped her speech with a finger to her lips. “Shhh. No. No amount of skill can bring me where you just did. With you I don’t need the rest.”

  She reached up to take his hand in hers, caressing the back of it with her thumb. “But, as you once told me, there is a great deal of difference between need and want. And passivity, you must know, is not in my nature. Perhaps you’ll teach me what it is you like?”

  He chuckled. “No, you’re not passive, that’s for damned sure. O.K., I’ll teach you, if that’s what you want. Later, though. I need time to recover.”

  He was amused, not shocked or appalled at her wanton request. For all Nick’s stubborn conservatism, she had, from the very beginning, felt entirely free to be herself with him and she loved him for it. Loved him down to every last happy little nerve in her languidly satisfied body. She let out a little sigh of contentment and wriggled closer to him. “Good. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll rest my eyes for a bit. It never occurred to me that such activity would be so wearing.”

  Another chuckle. “Sure, you go ahead.”

  “You’ll wake me, correct? So that we might ‘try’ again?” she asked. Her eyelids were so heavy and it felt wonderful to let them fall shut.

  “Sure enough.” Then darkness descended and she couldn’t for the life of her keep sleep at bay.

  ***

  Nick looked down at Star sleeping next to him. In the shadows of the lamplight, she appeared several years younger than when awake. Younger—and naked under that sheet. A body hardened with muscle from years of tennis, rowing, biking and sailing, yet gently curved due to her love of chocolate and port. A perfect female body, everything he’d fantasized about for months.

  He was in love. Madly in love and, as expected, lying with Star had only deepened it. Heartbreak was coming his way, no two ways about it, but, he thought, recollecting that incredible joining and their wild ride to paradise, it was worth it. His blood heated and his heart fluttered at just the thought of it. Entirely worth it.

  Rolling onto his back, he cried calf rope, letting months of tension seep from his muscles. Star had won, or passion had won, or maybe even he had won, but he couldn’t fight it any longer. The prize wasn’t going to last just one night, either. He was going to enjoy it for just as long as possible. Wrong or right no longer mattered. It was what it was.

  But he couldn’t do it here, he thought, picturing Ward and Morgan. And Lee and Port. Sadness nipped at his heart. To have Star, he would lose them all. He couldn’t have the family and the woman. He chose the woman. Come tomorrow he’d move to a hotel. He only hoped they wouldn’t take offense at whatever excuse he came up with for leaving.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It is difficult suddenly to lay aside a long-cherished love

  Gaius Valerius Catullus, Carmina

  Give me a thousand kisses

  Ibid

  Heart tripping merrily, Star arrived at the bottom of the stairs and moved on silver-lined clouds toward the breakfast room. Toward Nicholas. Would he still be there? Had he slept as late as she had? If so, she’d have just a roll and coffee for breakfast and then seek him out. She must see him again, the sooner the better. Her whole body craved it.

  The only occupant of the breakfast room was Port, sitting at the table reading a newspaper and lingering over his morning coffee. Well, she told her dampened spirits, it was, after all, past ten.

  Nicholas had kept her awake until well past four.

  A little thrill tripped over her nerves and down toward the area he had stimulated so remarkably well the night before.

  “Star. Rather late this morning, my dear,” Port said. “Feeling poorly, are you? Father asked that I send a maid to check on you should you sleep much later.”

  “Why, no, just difficulty sleeping last night due to the heat and thunderstorms,” she fibbed, strolling casually to the sideboard.

  “I see,” Port said, but from the amusement flittering through his voice, what he saw was quite different from what she hoped to convey. “It was rather oppressive. Will you be attending the Lancaster’s dinner tonight? I’m afraid Meredith and I must bow out. She is fatigued as well.”

  Taking three rolls and a cup of coffee, Star strolled to a chair opposite him, facing the ocean. “Is Meredith ill?”

  A smile spread across Port’s face. “Not ill, really. It’s not quite confirmed yet, but congratulations may be in order.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, eyes widening as warmth flooded her already-full heart. “Another child? Oh Port, how wonderful!”

  He fairly beamed at her. The expression dropped years from his countenance, showing the twenty-six-year-old man that he was. “We’re cautious as of yet. You know the difficulties she’s had in the past.”

  “Yes, but then Charlotte was born, and as pretty and healthy a child as ever I’ve seen! Oh Port,” she rose, unable to contain her joy. She moved around the table to bestow upon him a large hug. He rose, too. His arms, hard and strong despite his pretense at fashionable gentility, held her tightly for a brief moment. As he stepped back, she saw an unusual brightness in his eyes, which brought tears to hers. She wiped them away, chuckling. “Now will you look at my silliness? Do you think you may have a son this time?”

  “At present I would be most satisfied for a healthy child and an easy confinement. So you will attend the dinner? McGraw mentioned that he still planned to go.”

  Her heart jumped. “Why should he not?”

  A guarded, contemplative expression settled on Port’s face. “Why, because of his change of residence.”

  Her eyebrows shot up as her heart took another leap, this one not at all pleasant. “Change of residence?”

  “He didn’t tell you? He removed himself this morning to The Oceanside.”

  The Oceanside. But no . . . . Good God, no! Oh, not possible, she thought as the world spun slightly and she grabbed for the back of the chair next to her. “But . . . but,” she sputtered, “why would Father allow that? The talk—people will claim that we’ve alienated him.”

  “Why, yes, Father mentioned that.” He studied her with a knowing eye. “Nick responded that he’d never stayed in a ‘grand’ hotel other than in Saratoga Springs, and he wished to partake of the experience. He expected Society would attribute it to his peculiar Western ways, and he earnestly wished that we still consider him as our guest.”

  Star, slightly dizzy, pulled out the chair and sat down. Port continued staring down at her. “He hasn’t left Newport, Star,” he said at length. “He’s only left the house.”

  “Yes, but . . . you don’t think I’ve run him off, do you?” she asked, raising her head.

  His dark e
yes, usually so cool, filled with heartfelt compassion. “No. Sometimes a man requires independence. You of all people should understand that.”

  “Yes,” she said on a pained sigh, for Port was incorrect. She had run him off. Too forward, too brash. Too tall, too aggressive, altogether too mannish. No doubt for all his assertion to the contrary, Nicholas didn’t care for the body of a woman with so much muscle. For once, she thought swallowing back tears, she wished she were thin and wan and demure. Oh why, oh why must she love athletics so much? Why couldn’t she be a natural woman, inclined to needlework and—

  Port laid a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be there tonight. Once you talk to him, you’ll feel better.”

  She doubted it. “Thank you, Port. I’m sure you’re correct.”

  ***

  Nick moved casually around the enormous, gaudily decorated parlor, nodding and stopping to chat here and there to the other thirty or so dinner guests, the way two months of high-society life had taught him. Gradually he made his way to the group surrounding Star, where he carefully and discreetly culled her from the herd. “Nicholas,” she said when they were alone. “You left without so much as a goodbye.”

  The moment she’d entered the room, he’d marked the hurt in her eyes, battling with barely-concealed accusation. He’d expected it and had conjured up several speeches to sooth that pain, to explain in person what he’d not been able to do in five drafts of a letter. Letters could be found and read. But now with her so near, dressed in a dark red, low cut gown, which displayed her breasts in a way that would not be discreet out West, words failed him. Her scent mixed with the ocean air flowing through open windows and heated memory washed over him, of the taste of salt on her skin, and her nipples tickling his tongue, of her head dropping back as her moans of delight danced in his ears.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Nicholas?”

  “I thought it best to leave,” he answered in a voice roughened by desire. He coughed to clear his throat.