And with her, on her…
She wasn't sure. That was the worst thing about dreams—the one thing you wanted to be clear wasn't. There was someone with her, a tall man whose shadow occasionally blotted out even the clear moonlight. He loomed over her as she lay amongst the pine needles, the forest floor a soft and fragrant bed. Yet even as he loomed, towered, lowered himself over her and took control, she was never afraid of him. The lightest stroke of his fingers set her trembling and she arched into his touch, longing for more.
Then the man had changed. She still couldn't see him clearly, but he'd become even larger, stronger, infinitely more demanding. His outline was unclear, almost shaggy, but she could feel his weight pressing her into the earth, hard and solid. He'd brushed his fingers over her eyes—try as she might, she couldn't force them to open again—and she was left inhabiting a whole new world of sensation, one where touch and sound and scent were all that existed.
There was no sight, nothing to see. And no taste either. Her blindly questing mouth couldn't quite seem to make contact with him. Then her hands were anchored by her hips, her legs spread wide and her head was thrashing, her hips rolling as she tried to escape his searching tongue.
She couldn't escape him—did she really want to?— and slowly, so slowly he explored her. He laved her thighs, swirled warm breath over her nipples, licked, sucked and probed until he knew every part of her intimately. Once he'd discovered where she was most sensitive, he set about torturing her with his newfound knowledge. Her ears were filled with the sound of his ragged breathing, their frantic heartbeats, and her own moans and cries. She heard herself whimpering, begging, and still he continued. His head had finally settled between her legs, apparently content to let his tongue wreak havoc with her self-control.
It was a particularly loud moan that woke her up. She'd started to push herself upright, wanting to see the normality of her bedroom surrounding her—and couldn't.
Her wrists were anchored to the bed, her fingers kneading the sheet. Her legs were spread wide, her knees bent over Nate's shoulders, and her body was writhing as she strived to gain release from his sensual torment. His face was buried between her legs and his appreciative little grunts of approval were sending heady vibrations racing through her
blood.
She'd been able to feel the heat gathering under her skin, had almost heard the electric sizzles as her nerves jumped and all her senses centered on the spot where his tongue was tracing lazy spirals, apparently waiting for her to regain her senses. As much of them as he was willing to let her cling to, that was.
Satisfied she was awake, his tongue had delved deeper, invading her pussy at the same time he used his teeth to grab her clit. Slowly, stretching her for every last second of pleasure, he'd bitten down, and she'd exploded. Before she'd floated back to earth he'd been inside her again, his cock easing in as he pushed himself deep.
She'd felt his cooler saliva mixing with her own cum, its warmth flowing down her leg and over her ass. It had drenched the sheet under her, puddling in the depression made by her buttocks, and—for once—she hadn't been embarrassed. He'd whispered in her ear, praised her, incited her, desired her, wanted her.
Rough.
Dirty.
Messy.
Was that what sex was like with the right person? A little bit of adolescent groping and fondling, a few not-very-satisfactory thrusts, then it was all over. That was sex. Wasn't it?
And yet with Nate…she'd loved it. She'd never imagined feeling so completely fulfilled. Or so at ease with a stranger. And that was pretty well what Nate was to her. A stranger. She'd met him, what—two days ago? So how could she feel so close to him
already?
Gina pushed her coffee aside, folded her arms and collapsed onto the table, wrinkling her nose at the slightly chemical smell of the polish she normally used. Obviously, she hadn't spent enough time with her nose pressed into the woodwork, otherwise she'd have changed to something a little less…pungent. Still, now she was here, she was too tired to even think about moving again, let alone actually lifting her head. God, she was tired. Exhausted.
It seemed like hours later when she lifted her head, twisting irritably to straighten out the crick in her neck. Fancy falling asleep at the kitchen table! She'd put her head down, thinking to have a few minutes' rest, and had fallen into a deep sleep. Goodness, he'd worked her over last night. Gina's lips twisted at the thought. Heck, it had been good.
A light breeze ruffled her hair, just like gentle fingers teasing it away from her scalp. It filled the kitchen with the scent of morning—wet grass and moist earth slowly warming in the weak sunlight. There was even a hint of spring in the air. She glanced up at the fluttering curtains, her smile turning thoughtful. She never opened the windows in the morning, preferring to wait until the day had warmed a little before airing the house.
Nate had certainly made himself right at home, and not just with her body, either. She had a vague memory of him springing out of bed at some ungodly hour. He'd been disgustingly cheerful when all she wanted to do was crawl back under the covers and hide until sometime after lunch. At least.
She'd simply refused to believe it was morning. That warm chuckle of his had rumbled through her, the vibration in her ear setting off another uncontrollable shiver. What that man could do with his mouth! And his tongue… Oooh.
Then he'd tucked her in and disappeared. Or at least, she thought he had. He'd somehow managed to tidy the bedroom while she slept—the ridiculous collection of condom wrappers in the en suite tidy bin mute testimony to what they'd spent the night doing—then he'd apparently headed downstairs, finished cleaning the kitchen, and put on the coffee. Then he'd disappeared.
Where the hell did he get his morning-after energy? Even after her little power-nap on the kitchen table, Gina felt something like warmed-over oatmeal—uninteresting, soggy, tasteless… Or maybe not. She grinned at herself, remembering the contented murmurs Nate had made as he licked her pussy, thoroughly enjoying himself as he literally slurped up her juices from between her legs. She very much doubted he'd accept her describing herself as 'tasteless'.
Ah well. She heaved herself upright, running her fingers over her face and grimacing. The table had left an amazing imprint in her cheek and there was a sore spot on her shoulder. Had he given her a hickey? At her age! She knew she should have been outraged but smiled despite herself.
A hot shower was what she needed, and she needed it desperately. The evidence of last night was still plastered to her legs, the scent of sex rising faintly as she moved, wafting around her and inducing memories she'd much rather forget. After all, the chances of her seeing him again were pretty damn low. Just because she'd already known it, didn't necessarily make it any easier to accept. And it was, she knew, going to be even harder now she really knew what great sex was.
Her pussy clenched and, even through the soft robe she'd tossed on before heading downstairs, she could feel her nipples hardening. If just the thought of sex was enough to make her body react… Ugh! Right now, she wasn't sure whether she was grateful to Nate for giving her the experience, or whether she should hate him for showing her just what she'd been missing out on.
* * * *
Nate bit back an irritated sigh, instead smiling brightly at the couple who were looking at their third property of the day. Since taking over the agency, he'd started opening on Saturday mornings and— usually—he didn't mind. This morning, however, he'd have much rather stayed in bed. Gina's bed.
And that, he realised, was dangerous. She'd responded so readily to that final tongue-fucking that he'd really wanted to know what she was dreaming about. The instant the dream became reality was obvious, yet she'd relaxed almost immediately. He didn't think he'd have been quite so calm if it had been him that had woken up being sucked off by a woman and already in the throes of orgasm. To give up so much control of himself to someone else, to trust them that much… The thought alone was enough to make him shudd
er. Yet she'd been quite unperturbed to find herself spread wide in front of him, unconscious of just how he'd stroked her, touched her, to get her to that point. He smirked. Well, as unperturbed as she could be considering the way her cunt was writhing wildly into his mouth as he drove her out of her mind.
Was it really going to be possible to escape the fate some deity with a rotten sense of humor apparently had planned for him? He was starting to doubt it.
"Mr. Moore?"
Nate jerked himself back to the present. Thinking of exactly what he'd done to her—all the wonderfully innovative things he'd do to her next time—maybe wasn't a good idea when he was supposed to be selling houses. Make that, definitely wasn't a good idea. He could feel his cock swelling and there wasn't much he could do about it.
"Do you like this one, Mrs. Winston? It has a rather good view, don't you think?" Thank goodness he knew this particular house so well—it had been on the books so long he could spiel off its attributes without thought.
"The kitchen is a little old-fashioned."
He put on his best 'salesperson' smile, nodding his agreement even while saying the opposite. "But that's the beauty of it, don't you think? The owner took that into consideration when he decided his price, so you pay less for the house because of it. And of course," his smile became conspiratorial, "that means you get to decide your own color scheme when you renovate."
"I don't know…" She shook her head, lips tight. "It still seems expensive considering we're nearly two
hours from the city.
"Have another look around," he urged. "A property similar to this in the city would cost ten times as much. There's no comparison."
He pulled a face as the couple trailed up the stairs. Working Saturdays paid off because he got the city buyers in, the ones who were looking for their own little piece of paradise. Unfortunately, they also expected it at bargain basement prices. But despite their complaints, they still paid an awful lot more than a local would ever consider for the same property.
You couldn't put a price on Utopia. If he hadn't been sure they'd have heard him, he'd have groaned out loud. God, he was getting cynical. Maybe it was time he gave some thought to settling down, raising a family. If nothing else, 'practicing' could be fun.
A floorboard creaked directly above his head, and he shrugged. The house was an overpriced pile of crap. Not that he'd tell the eventual buyer that— legally, he couldn't—but there was nothing to stop him strenuously recommending they get a building inspection done before they signed any contracts.
His memory crept back to the board floors in Gina's bedroom as he waited. He'd seen quite a lot of them this morning when he'd gone searching for all the condom wrappers he'd tossed on the floor last night. The timber was a nice color, well worn but with the patina of a good polish hiding the imperfections.
He poked idly at the bearskin rug covering the ugly tiled floors of the house he was trying to sell. Yugh! Who'd put tiles in a living room anyway? The board floors at Gina's would be good if he moved in with her. It really was a pain trying to get the fur out of wall-to-wall carpeting.
This time he did groan out loud, spinning to look out the window at the distant forest. He could hardly believe it. No matter how many times he told his brain to forget about her, his thoughts snuck back around to Gina Longmire.
It wasn't until he realised his fists were tightly clenched by his sides, his stance stiff, that he forced himself to relax. Castigating himself for every errant thought obviously wasn't working. He flicked open his cell, punching in Gina's number. So much for him being the one in control…
Chapter Nine
Bending over to pick up the apple she'd accidentally knocked off the counter, Gina discovered a whole new set of muscles. A hot shower had loosened her up—for a while—but now muscles she hadn't even known existed were protesting almost every time she moved. And when every movement reminded her of last night…
Swallowing a groan, she straightened, gingerly adding the apple to her small pile of groceries. Her thighs ached. She doubted she'd ever had her legs spread so wide—or for so long—as she had last night.
Megan, damn her, simply grinned. It was such a knowing grin, and such an 'I know what you did last night' kind of a grin, that Gina looked cautiously around the store, wanting to be absolutely certain no one else had seen Megan's indiscreet smirk.
The store would close in a quarter of an hour and was unusually quiet. Just an elderly couple bickering quietly at the deli counter and Yvonne, the same middle-aged woman as usual scanning the groceries at the counter. She'd not even looked up, and Gina turned back to Megan, a lot more secure in herself.
Surely it wasn't that obvious? It wasn't like she had a whopping great sign plastered across her head, flashing lights spelling out the fact she'd been fucked 'til she couldn't walk straight.
The very idea sent a hot flush scooting up her neck and over her cheeks. It was true, too. She'd noticed walking between the car and the shop that, if she wasn't careful, she was tending to waddle rather than walk. How embarrassing!
She blanched. Then again, maybe Yvonne had noticed. Maybe that was why she was so studiously staring down at the groceries rather than chatting away as usual. On second thought, no. If Yvonne suspected anything even the slightest bit gossipworthy, then nothing and no one was safe.
That didn't stop her paying up as quickly as humanly possible and practically dragging Megan from the store and out to the relative safety of the street. Saturday morning trading was slowly drawing to a close and, like small towns everywhere, the weekend lethargy was drifting in to take the place of the earlier bustle.
Only a few places would remain open so, after stowing the grocery sacks in the trunk, Megan towed her towards the diner. That meant walking past the realtor's. No matter how determinedly she tried to look away, Gina just couldn't quite keep her eyes off the shuttered shop front. There was a closed sign swinging behind the door, the lights were out, but there was a shadow moving somewhere down the back. Nate?
She probably should have kicked herself for the naïve little burst of hope, but there had been a message on her machine when she'd stepped out of the shower. A fairly standard 'thanks for the night' sort of message to be sure, but a message nevertheless. She honestly hadn't expected to hear from him again.
As soon as their orders had been taken, Megan started. After all, she knew the only reason Megan had insisted on accompanying her this morning was the chance to pry for details.
"So," Her face was alight with curiosity. "How was it? Is he as good as the rumors say?"
Gina answered before she'd stopped to think. "Better."
Oh puh-leeze! Gina cringed. Had that dreamy little sigh been hers too?
Megan leaned across the table, her hand tugging Gina's wrist. "And?"
"And what?"
Megan's mock-grimace attracted the attention of the next table, but she totally ignored Gina's frantic hand signal to tone it down.
"Nuh-uh." Megan shook her head, eyes glinting wickedly. She glanced around the diner at the handful of people having an early lunch, the threat obvious. "Tell all—or else!"
"Tell what?" Nate pulled out the chair between them, settling himself at the table without asking permission. "Megan," he nodded amiably in her direction before his eyes returned to Gina. "How are you?"
There was a hint of humor in his voice, and she couldn't miss the barely suppressed laughter lighting up his eyes. How the heck did he imagine she was going to answer that question?
"Good. Thank you." Did her answer sound half as
stilted as it felt?
"Glad to hear it." He grinned down on her then glanced back across to Megan who smiled serenely. "I had dinner at Gina's place last night," he explained. "Ended up being a bit of a late night."
"So I heard." Megan grinned at Gina. "I was just asking for details."
"Ah." He nodded, pretending a seriousness he obviously didn't feel. The laughter in his eyes was infectious. "I
never kiss and tell."
He winked at Megan. "I'd better be on my way then," he said, swinging out of the chair as lithely as he'd sat down only minutes earlier. "I'll let you get back to pumping her for all the details. I know we Moores are legendary."
Gina looked heavenward, muttering. "Great!" Realizing her only chance of escaping Megan's avid curiosity was about to walk away, she hammed it up, lowering her head into her hands, then resting it slowly on the table. "Just great."
Nate ruffled her hair companionably then bent to plop a brotherly kiss on her bent neck. "You'll survive." From under her hair, she watched him grin across at Megan. "Your friend doesn't look all that scary to me."
"Some kind of hero you are," Gina grumbled.
"Sorry love, but you know what?" He chuckled, the sound going straight to her belly. "I don't do 'riding to the rescue on a white charger'. It does terrible things to my suit."
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