Raw Need

by Cherrie Lynn

  And all at once, he pulled up on her, surging up to kiss her lips with a greed that went straight to the heat between her legs and stoked it higher. Before she knew it, she was beneath him again, and he loomed over her, his cock lying against her thigh. Even as her body craved it inside, she whimpered at the thought of taking it.

  Zane leaned over to the nightstand built into the wall and pulled open a drawer. Condom. God, she was so out of touch, had been married so long, it hadn’t even crossed her mind. But she was glad he was looking out for her.

  “I know I’m clean,” he told her, then tore it open with his teeth. “But you don’t have any reason to believe that.”

  If he said it, she believed it, but she also realized how dangerous that could be. “Thank you,” she said softly, watching him unfurl it over his thickness. Something so hot about the expert way he handled himself, long fingers moving with quick, efficient strokes.

  He settled over her, holding himself up with his arms, careful not to press into her belly. Rowan spread herself wide to accommodate him, her breathing ragged, her heart galloping. Zane lowered himself to kiss her sweetly, scattering them across her cheeks, her jaw, her lips, until she was writhing beneath him. Only then, when he was satisfied with her desperation, did he slide the underside of his cock over her clit, causing her to tilt her hips up for him in primal need.

  Her movements lined them up perfectly when he slid back, nestling his tip at her entrance. She had time for only one sharp intake of breath, then he pushed, hips driving relentlessly.

  “I need you,” he rasped into her ear, sinking so deep she pushed against his hips with a gasping sob. He slid too easily into her wetness, stretching her more than her body was ready for, but he pulled back at her sounds. “Claw me. Cuss me. Whatever you need to, but for fuck’s sake, Rowan, don’t stop me.”

  “Don’t stop,” she said, putting her hand to his face. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  He grasped that hand and pressed it into the pillow, lacing his fingers tightly through hers. With his other arm, he hoisted her leg over his elbow, pinning her down, pinning her open. This time his intrusion was slow, so slow, and her free hand pulled at him now rather than pushing him away. His mouth found hers, opened against her, his tongue plundering inside. God, he tasted like sin, like everything she shouldn’t have. He tasted like heaven. He felt like home, like a new home, after the last one had burned to the ground. Her entire body shook as he claimed her. She throbbed around him.

  “Do you like it slow and sweet,” he murmured, dragging out inch by inch while her body fought to keep him, “or hard and nasty?” He shoved back in, impaling her, forcing a gasp from her.

  “Why can’t I have both?” she asked once she was able to breathe again.

  Zane’s lips curled with devilish glee. “I can do both.”

  “What about hard and sweet? Slow and nasty?”

  “I can do it all, baby girl. Waited so long for this. Your wish is my command.” Even as he tried to keep up the witticisms, he sounded strained and ragged, and she loved him for it.

  “All I want is you,” she murmured, so full of him it was hard to speak. He touched her everywhere inside she needed to be touched. Physically and emotionally. “However I can have you.”

  “I don’t know how long I can last,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers as he began to move, as she began to whimper. “Wanted you so much. Too much.”

  “You won’t need long,” she promised, feeling the way she already clenched rhythmically around him, the way her stomach muscles were tightening. And this position he held her in was perfect, angling him so deep and so tight, he slid against her most sensitive spots with every thrust. Her body grew weaker by the second; her blood felt thick in her veins. All she could taste was him, all she could feel and see and hear and smell . . . He consumed her every sense, whispering deliciously dirty things in her ear that swept her away. How good she felt, how tight she was, how hard she was going to make him come. Which was only fair, since he was fond of making her nearly pass out.

  His mouth teased at hers as their bodies found a deep, hard rhythm. He drove a lusty cry from her with every thrust; she’d long forgotten there was anyone else out there. Her nails bit into his flesh and he felt so good in her, so right, that when her thigh muscles locked and ecstasy bloomed from where he invaded her, she couldn’t fight it. And it was almost embarrassing, how fast and how hard she came for him, calling his name and pulling him as deep as she could get him, wishing she could absorb him into her very being.

  Her pleasure only pulled him with her. Many times, in her naughtier moments, she’d listened to him sing and wondered what he would sound like in bed. The fantasy had nothing on the reality. His mouth to her ear, his breathing harsh, he growled a long, deep, desperate note, and she felt him throbbing inside. She gripped him as tightly as she could with her inner muscles, squeezing, dueling him pulse for pulse until his voice died away in a series of ragged, panting breaths.

  “Fuck,” he said at last, and Rowan found the strength to giggle, but not much else. She simply held him. Somehow, through all that, he’d managed to keep the bulk of his weight off her. Now he collapsed to his side, pulling her with him, keeping them connected.

  * * *

  Weeks of frustration, gone in the blink of an eye. Zane felt as if twenty pounds had been lifted off him. Nothing had gotten him to this point before, nothing but her. Maybe this entire thing hadn’t been the wild sex romp he’d imagined when he’d invited her, but it had been intense, heartfelt, and he wouldn’t have changed it for the world even if she scared the hell out of him a little.

  “Are you okay?” he asked when he’d gathered his thoughts beyond holy fucking shit.

  She nodded against his shoulder, but he wondered. This entire day, he’d been a bit of a pushy asshole, and now that he wasn’t in a fog of lust for her—for the moment—he hoped he hadn’t crossed a line in getting her here. It wouldn’t be worth causing her any undue pain or guilt.

  “I forbid you to cry,” he teased, and she chuckled.

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Well, just in case.”

  Finally he had to move, disposing of the condom and cleaning up, returning to hold her in silence for a time. The road rushed beneath them, lulling them from the heights they’d ascended. She raised her head after a while, inspecting some of the ink on his opposite arm. “I’ve always loved your tattoos.” Her fingers traced the lines, following along until she reached his shoulder, then across his chest. He closed his eyes, soaking in her touch. It had always been so tentative before. As he lay still now, she indulged in a thorough exploration, caressing with only her fingertips as goose bumps skittered down his arms. She charted every inch of his chest, then down to his abdomen, teasing along the trail of hair that disappeared under the edge of the sheets. And beneath those sheets, his cock began to twitch with renewed interest.

  “Mmm, honey,” he warned, feeling the lengthening and thickening down below. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

  “I’m in enough already,” she said, an odd heaviness in her voice. “Might as well go all out.” Her hand slipped under the covers and his head rolled back on the pillow. This time, she was the one who crawled over to the condom stash, the one who crawled back with a foil packet and sheathed him while he groaned at her touch. Straddling his hips, she guided his head between her legs and lowered herself, while his fingers gripped her trembling thighs and she tossed her head back.

  “You’re so big,” she panted.

  “You’re so tight,” he returned, tilting up to penetrate deeper, deeper. She took him so fully, every inch of her stroking along every inch of him until she sat flush with him. Only then did he allow himself to breathe. He could feel her pulse fluttering madly against his dick. So fucking sweet. He shifted his hold from her thighs to her hips as she began to circle them, lift them, drop them again. All the while watching his eyes, her own glazed with pleasure. T
hose full lips parted with her breath.

  “Zane,” she whispered. “You feel too good.”

  “So do you, baby. Too fucking good. Come here.” She leaned down—her belly prevented her from lying on top of him—bracing herself on her arms. He raised his head to kiss her, capturing both breasts in his hands and caressing them. Her little pink nipples were stiff against his palms, and he lavished attention on them, lifting her slightly higher so he could lick and suck each one in turn. Teasing. Testing just how hard and greedy he could get them. Rowan sighed and shuddered at his attempt, her hips rocking a little faster.

  “Please don’t stop doing that,” she whispered.

  “Fucking kidding me?” he groaned. “I could do this all night.”

  Her blond hair brushed him as her head dropped forward. “Oh, God, Zane, I’m gonna . . .” She ground her clit on him as she fucked him, as he sucked at her, and to his astonishment, she was flying apart atop him before he’d even gotten good and started. Fuck, she was exquisite, her little body hot and sleek with sweat against him. And whenever she had an orgasm, color like pink roses bloomed in her cheeks and splotched her chest. It bloomed there now. It fascinated him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said weakly when he sat up to support her sagging weight.

  Sorry? The hell? He caressed the damp hair back from her forehead. “For what?”

  “I can’t control myself with you,” she murmured, hugging him close, but her big belly kept them from the closeness he longed for.

  “Seems to me you did a damn good job of it for a very long time.” He chucked her under the chin, and she rewarded him with a bashful smile.

  “I kind of always knew we’d end up here, though.”

  “This is no end, Rowan. This is a beginning.”

  He kissed her before he could watch that doubt bloom in her eyes. He couldn’t see it. Not now, fuck, not now. They had a long night ahead.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rowan watched him sleep, memorizing every perfect line, every tiny scar, every little freckle, until she couldn’t take it anymore and slipped out from beneath the warm sheets. Careful not to disturb him, she dug some clothes from her bag and dressed in silence, not paying the least attention to whether her attire matched or flattered. It didn’t matter.

  The only sound was the hum of the road passing beneath them. Sunlight peeked around the drapes. Her phone told her it was almost seven A.M. She had dozed for perhaps an hour, her body singing with adrenaline, and even in those feverish dreams, phantom hands had touched her all over. They still touched her now. She could still feel him in the pleasant ache between her legs.

  Zane sprawled on his stomach, face turned toward her, the sheet riding dangerously low on his narrow hips. She wanted to wake him, let him hold her, let him talk her out of what she knew she had to do. But she knew he would, knew she would give him anything he wanted right now, so she left him sleeping after one long, final look.

  Jase sat on the couch up front, always the early riser. Soft snores came from the bunks as she passed by them, and he glanced up at her from his phone as she approached. Other than the sleepers and the driver up front, they were alone. Immediate concern furrowed Jase’s brow as he gave her a quick once-over. “Are you all right?”

  Rowan perched on the seat across from him. “Can you help me get home?” Her eyes filled with tears even as she asked.

  Jase stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, then tossed his phone aside and leaned toward her, elbows on his knees. “Rowan, what happened?”

  “Nothing. I just need to go home.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Please.”

  “What am I supposed to tell him?” he asked, tilting his chin toward the back of the bus where Zane still lay wrapped in dreams.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I need to leave.”

  Zane had often lauded Jase’s profound perception. Right now, she felt every ounce of it focused on her. She shuttered her face as best she could, but the tears kept coming. “Rowan, if he did something . . .”

  “He didn’t do anything. Please just listen. I have to go home.”

  Finally, Jase sat back, seeming at a loss as he lifted both palms. “I can’t let you slip out on him like that without a word. If you want to leave, you need to have that talk with him.”

  “You’re seriously not going to help me? Because he’s your boss?”

  “He’s more than my boss. He’s my friend.”

  “Okay. Then you can explain to your friend why I stepped off the bus in Denver and hitched a ride from some roadie to the airport because I don’t have money for cab fare. When I get there, I’ll call my family who hates him so they can buy me a plane ticket home. You can tell him that I had to do all these things because you refused to help me.”

  Jase’s eyes narrowed. “Or I can wake him up right now, and we can have this conversation together.”

  “No.”

  “Doesn’t he deserve that much?”

  “You don’t understand. If I don’t leave now . . . I won’t ever leave. And I have to, Jase. I have to.”

  He watched her free-falling tears as she stared at him imploringly, willing him to understand. “You know it will never work. My family is threatening to take my baby when she’s born. They think I’ve lost it or something, that I’m unfit, or that I’m a danger. I have to go back and fix things there, and if he knows why then he’ll try to follow me and I can’t—” She broke off into uncontrollable sobs, trying to muffle them in the overly long sleeve of her cardigan.

  “All right, all right,” Jase said with more alarm than compassion, sitting forward again to give her an awkward pat on the shoulder. “We’re almost to the venue. When we get there, if he isn’t awake yet . . . I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you.” She sniffled, wiping her cheeks. “Thank you so much.”

  “Gonna get me fucking fired,” he grumbled, sitting back with a shake of his bald head.

  “Tell him you’re doing him a favor by getting rid of me. You think that’s true anyway, it’s okay. I think you’re doing him a favor too. So tell him whatever you need to. I don’t care. I’m trying to protect him.”

  Jase leveled her with a hard look. “I find that hard to believe. If you wanted to protect him, you’d talk to him. You’d explain, and you’d let him help. You’re only trying to protect yourself.”

  * * *

  You’re only trying to protect yourself.

  Flying was even worse when she was going home. But she had Jase’s words to keep her company, at least, and they played through her head like a song on repeat. And not one she liked; one she never wanted to hear again.

  So what if that was exactly what she was doing? What was so wrong about protecting herself? She was all she had. She and her baby.

  Every bump of turbulence made her stomach plummet sickeningly. Nausea wound itself around her throat, and once she was horribly convinced she was about to throw up, but a ginger ale helped.

  It wasn’t only the turbulence buffeting the plane. It was that buffeting her heart, too. Everything within her cried out against what she was doing.

  Jase had smuggled her out as soon as they pulled in to the loading docks of the arena, while Zane still slept blissfully on. He’d borrowed a truck and given her a ride to the airport, then booked her on a one-way flight to New Orleans. The look on his face as he’d left her there without another word made her feel like something disgusting he’d just scraped off the bottom of his shoe, and she knew she deserved it for putting him in the position of betraying his friend and boss. It still hadn’t stopped her from thanking him profusely as he walked away. He hadn’t looked back.

  But she hadn’t let herself relax until she passed security and reached her gate. Only then, when she was certain Zane wasn’t about to come running after her, did she allow herself to curl up underneath her oversized cardigan, bury her face in it so no one could see, and cry her eyes out while she could still fee
l the shape of him inside her.

  Now, on the plane, she tried to let herself get the sleep that had been denied to her last night, but it still wasn’t happening. Every bump jolted her awake in a fresh wash of terror. Every minute that ticked by was a minute she knew Zane was cursing her name.

  “Oh, how far along are you?” a friendly flight attendant asked as she walked through in preparation for landing.

  “Six months,” Rowan said, trying to inject some sunny excitement into her voice, since that’s what people wanted to hear.

  “So cute! Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You look so familiar,” Rowan’s seatmate said as the flight attendant moved on. The girl had spent most of the flight staring out the window, and Rowan hadn’t been in much of a talking mood herself. “Do you live in New Orleans?”

  “Yes,” Rowan said, giving her a tight-lipped smile she hoped spelled the end of the conversation.

  “Hmm.” Naturally, the girl only kept scrutinizing her, even after Rowan turned away to blankly study the magazines in the seat pocket in front of her.

  Just leave me alone.

  After a silent minute when she thought the subject has passed, the girl said, “Go ahead and tell me if I’m crazy, but you look like the girl my favorite singer is dating right now.” Even when Rowan’s gaze snapped to her in alarm, she wasn’t deterred, and glanced down at her belly. She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “You’re her, aren’t you? It’s okay. I’m not insane like some of them.” She chuckled.

  How did she handle this? Lie? When she was obviously caught? Her trusting nature warred with her caution, and finally won out. “I don’t . . . I’m not dating him. We’re friends.”

  “August is supposed to be in Denver tonight. You were there with him, weren’t you? I was gonna go tonight, because I love them, but my grandmother had a heart attack and I’m flying out to see her.”