Her sister Madeline would tell Melinda that she was being stupid—would remind her that little less than a few hours ago, she’d been ready to call the cops on Nobody and have him thrown back into jail and now, here she was, still reeling from the power of the climax he’d unleashed upon her, heading back to his camp with every intention of unleashing a few more climaxes.
But she didn’t care. Maybe this wasn’t the smartest decision she’d ever made but surely it wasn’t the worst, either. How was being with a man who’d fought to defend her, who protected a vulnerable kid, who was working on being good—how was being with him bad?
It wasn’t. No worse than being with a man who slept with other men on the down low and lied to her about it. Nobody hadn’t lied to her. He’d put her first.
She had things she wanted to do to him, things that did not involve horses but did involve a startling lack of clothing. Even now, her jeans were chafing against the spot where he’d rubbed, an irritating reminder that she was still wearing the damn things.
Then the horse slowed down just as she broke through the trees and into a little clearing decorated with twinkle lights.
“Here,” Nobody growled in her ear. The next thing she knew, he’d slid off the horse, his hands trailing down her leg as he went.
She swung her leg over the back of the horse, trying to avoid kicking him in the face. She didn’t need to worry—he caught her foot and guided her down.
Then he pressed all those muscles against her back, almost pinning her against the horse. “You … you don’t have to do this,” he said.
She heard it in his voice then—the same terrified tension she’d heard last night when he’d pinned her arms to her side and then told her about killing a man.
She pushed back against him, feeling the hard bulge in his jeans almost-but-not-quite grinding against her butt. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not.” It wasn’t as defensive as it’d been last night, but his statement did nothing to explain why he was hiding where she couldn’t see him.
She turned. He let her. So that was progress. His arms were tight around her waist, his erection pressing hard against her. All good things that could easily lead to great things. But his eyes—his eyes told a different story.
Maybe he wasn’t afraid of her. But something about her being here with him had him nervous.
She hoped it was just the long years alone. Thirteen, if she’d understood him correctly. That was a hell of a long time to go without sex. Hell, she could barely make it three months.
She cupped his butt in her hands, feeling the tight muscles shift. Yeah, three months had been a long time for her. Thirteen years was a lifetime.
He growled as she palmed him—but it wasn’t a sound of aggression or even anger. She squeezed harder and pushed him against her, feeling the stiff erection that was just waiting for her.
She slid her hands up front and began working at his zipper. Would he tell her “Don’t” again, like he had last time? Or would he let her touch him?
The answer to both questions was no. He didn’t tell her to stop, but he grabbed her hands just as the button on his jeans gave. “I …” he swallowed hard. “We need to not stand.”
She nodded, letting her hand skim over his side. He didn’t do anything to betray any weakness—no wincing, no moans of pain—but yeah, he’d been stabbed not terribly long ago. “I’ll be on top.” That way, he wouldn’t have to over-exert himself or pull something.
His face shot bright red, but his only other reaction was a quick nod of his head in the direction of the chaise lounge.
Perfect. Well, not perfect—she hadn’t had a lot of sex al fresco. That was part of living in a big city—parks were not conducive to a quickie because there were always too many people around. But at least this way they wouldn’t have to spend half an hour moving books off a bed. Plus, the chaise lounge was in an upright position. Bonus.
She took his hand and led him toward the chair. He started to sit, but she held him up. For a man who’d picked her up and thrown her onto the back of a horse with no warning—not to mention the orgasm—he seemed more than a little hesitant about this whole thing.
“I won’t hurt you,” she said as she pushed the straps of the backpack off his shoulders and peeled his t-shirt off. This time, she didn’t see the scars so much. Just the muscles. God, the muscles. She let her hands drift over his chest and down his arms before she leaned over and licked his nipple.
He grunted in surprise and tottered back, almost losing his balance.
Right—they were working on that whole not-standing thing. She pushed his jeans down and was surprised to see his enormous erection straining against a pair of black boxer briefs. For some reason, she’d thought a man like him might have gone commando. “Nice,” she said, hoping it would put him at ease.
Then she slipped her hands under his waistband and pushed the briefs off. His dick sprang free, at full attention. She wanted to stroke him—to make him moan like he’d done to her on the ride here—but she didn’t want to wear him out before they even got to the fun stuff.
Nobody’s arms were stiff at his side, like he wanted to touch her but wasn’t allowing himself to do that. “Sit,” she told him as she put her hands on his shoulders and guided him toward the lounge chair.
He sat, but he didn’t look comfortable. Everything about him was stiff, not just the parts that were standing at full attention.
He had no idea what he was doing. The realization hit her like a slap. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing on the ride over here—he’d just done it. But now he was thinking and, if last night had been any indication, trying to find a way to talk himself out of this.
“This is the part,” she began as she stripped off her shirt, “where you compliment me.”
He stared at her breasts with an uncomplicated need. Men weren’t really that difficult. A nice bra made everything better. “Compliment?” The word sounded foreign in his mouth, as if the thought had never crossed his mind.
“Here—I’ll show you.” She undid the button on her jeans and slowly began to wriggle out of them. “Hands down, you have the most amazing muscles I’ve ever seen. Seriously, you’re like a god, only hotter.”
His cheeks turned an interesting shade of red, but he didn’t look away from her as she stepped out of her jeans and kicked them aside. Then she was in her bra and hipster panties and nothing else. In the full light of day. There was something oddly freeing about being nearly naked outside.
He swallowed. “You’re … beautiful.”
She struck a pose, her hands on her hips and her breasts thrust out and up. “Good! That was good.” Then she turned her backside toward him and bent over, giving him a full view of her butt and the little panties that barely covered it. The groan that came from his direction as she rummaged in the backpack was worth it.
Yup, one lonely little condom down at the bottom. It’d have to do for now. She straightened up and walked over to him. His hands were back into clenched fists held by his side.
But she didn’t straddle him, not yet. He was trying to hold onto his control and she was sick of it. So instead of rolling the condom onto him, she lowered her lips to his dick and kissed his tip.
Everything about him tensed, which jerked his dick away her mouth. So she wrapped her hand around his shaft and licked his length.
A low moan—of pain or pleasure, she couldn’t tell—pulled free of his chest as she went down on him. God, he was huge. She could barely get her lips wrapped around him. Licking was the better option, so she went with that.
She looked up at him, but instead of him watching her, his head was back and his eyes were closed. And his hands were still clenched at his side. “This is the part,” she said as she kissed his tip again, “where you should touch me.”
“Don’t …” She stroked his length again and he clenched his teeth. And probably a few other muscles, but the teeth were the ones he was havi
ng trouble speaking around. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
For crying out loud. “You won’t hurt me. And if you do something that doesn’t work, I’ll tell you and you’ll back off a bit. Simple. Now touch me.”
“But—”
“Touch me. Pick up that massive hand and stroke my hair while I go down on you.” She didn’t wait for another reason why he couldn’t let himself enjoy this. Instead she took him into her mouth again, swirling her tongue around his tip.
Then she felt it—his hand resting on the top of her head. Not quite stroking, not yet, but it was a start. “Good,” she said as she licked him again. Positive reinforcement and all that.
At some point, he began to relax. His hips started to move in time with her hands, his fingers began to tangle with her hair. Then he began to make noise—small noises that sounded as if she were ripping them directly out of his chest.
If she weren’t so turned on by this whole thing—having complete control over a man who followed no law but his own—she’d hold him until he’d finished. He’d already given her one orgasm, after all—fair was fair. But she was feeling a little too selfish for that. No way was she going to let this opportunity pass her by. No way.
Slowly, she brought the oral to an end. She stroked slower, went from licking and sucking to kissing, then from kissing his dick to kissing his thigh to his stomach, to kissing her way up his chest. She didn’t avoid the scars, but she didn’t seek them out, either. She didn’t want to make him self-conscious—didn’t want to do anything to spook him.
Funny how he was the one worried about her—she was worried about him.
As she made her slow ascent up his body, he untangled his fingers from her hair and let them move over her body. He still wasn’t looking at her, but he was breathing hard as he ran his hands up and down her back.
“Look at me,” she told him when she was straddling him, the heavy weight of his erection pressing against her. She still had the condom in hand. She needed to remember to use it.
He opened his eyes—the need in them almost took her breath away. Yes, she thought with a wicked grin, he was still holding out on her.
She ground her hips against him, feeling his length slide against her. “Do you want me?”
He nodded. Of course he did.
“Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.” He swallowed as she slid over him again. “You want me?”
She grinned at him as she leaned down to kiss him. He took the kiss, pressing her against his chest. “So much,” she whispered against the skin of his neck. “I’m going to ride you now.”
“Okay.”
Yeah, he wasn’t one for much pillow talk. She slid back and half stood, half crouched over him. Quickly, she rolled the condom onto him. He didn’t move. She wasn’t sure he was even breathing as she scooted back up. And he’d closed his eyes again.
Damn, he was a stubborn man.
She positioned him and let herself fall upon him. Her body, already warmed up from the earlier horse ride and primed from the oral, took him in. “God,” she whispered as he filled her. Oh, how he filled her—she shook as he hit parts of her that almost cried out in relief.
He jolted beneath her, his hands on her hips as he kept her from going further. “We can stop.”
Stop? Was he insane? That was the very last thing she wanted him to do. “No, the correct choice there was, ‘You feel good.’” Somehow, she managed to sound calm about it but calm was something she was rapidly losing control of. She pushed against his hands and let her body settle completely onto his. “Because you feel good inside of me. I like it. A lot.”
“You do?”
“Oh my God, yes.” She raised herself off him so far that she almost pulled free of him, then she took him in again—a little fast this time. A little harder. Then, because it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to pick up on the finer points of lovemaking on his own, she said, “Kiss me when I do that.”
His eyelids fluttered open as half a smile crooked the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Ma’am.”
She rose and fell on him again as he kissed her. And he kissed her well. The more she rode him, the better it felt. He was hitting spots that hadn’t been properly hit in a long time. She found a rhythm that worked well. “God.” Her head rolled back, but he didn’t take advantage of his location. “Kiss my breasts.”
He pressed his lips against the left one, then said, “Can I do more than kiss?”
“Please.” It was supposed to sound all in charge—she was in charge here—but it came out as a whimper because his body was driving up into hers with a little more force now, the friction building as their bodies moved together.
Then he took her breast into his mouth, his teeth scraping along her nipple with the just-right amount of pressure. She moaned, grabbing hold of his head and holding it against her breast.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, just like that. Oh, Mr. Bodine.”
“Say my name,” he said, his voice low and dangerous and the most sexy thing she’d ever heard. Then he nipped at her again.
She was chipping away at his control, bit by bit. She needed him to let go, to give himself up to her entirely. She’d never needed something so very bad in her entire life. “Yes, Nobody.” It came out as the barest of whispers, breathy and girly and almost timid.
“Say it …” he shifted his attention to her other breast. “Louder. Say my name louder.”
She tilted his head up and looked him in the eye. “Make me.”
Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever said in bed, but by God, it proved to be one of the most effective. Anything hesitant or restrained about him seemed to shatter under the weight of the challenge.
He grabbed her hips and slammed them down onto his with a guttural growl. “Say. It.”
“Yes, Nobody.” She purposefully kept it quiet.
He filled his hands with her ass, pulling her apart so he could angle himself in deeper. “Louder,” he demanded, slamming up into her again.
This time, she couldn’t keep her voice quiet. The force of him driving into her hit her just right. “Oh, Nobody!”
“Louder,” he growled again, squeezing her ass so hard she could feel the marks of his fingers on her flesh.
“Yes, like that, Nobody.” She didn’t say it loud enough, so he bit her on the breast, just above the nipple. “Oh, Nobody!”
He had her now, had complete control over her as he drove up into her body from below. Then he let go of her ass and grabbed her breast, squeezing her nipple while he ran his teeth over the other one.
“Yes—oh, God—yes, Nobody. A little rough, just like that. Oh, God—Nobody.”
“You feel so good,” he managed to get out as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Louder.”
She was starting to unravel, but the feeling of him giving up his control to her—of him pawing at her—there was something basic and right about it. None of this prissy, fussy sex. Just a man on the edge of reason, pushing her past it.
But she needed something more. She grabbed his face and dragged it up to hers. There was no anger, no pain in his eyes. Just sheer, naked need mixed with old-fashioned lust. “Make me.”
“Woman,” he growled. A shadow of doubt flitted over his face.
She ground her hips down on his, trying to pull him back from those ridiculous worries about hurting her. “Make me.”
He grabbed her by the hips again, but this time, as he drove up into her, one of his hands swung down against the bare flesh of her ass. “Louder,” he demanded.
“Nobody!” she cried out—not in pain, no. The quick bite of his hand against her skin didn’t hurt—but it did make everything in her body tense up. Including the parts that surrounded his dick. God, it felt good to have everything clench against him like that.
He froze. “Did I—”
“God, do it again. Please do it again!”
He growled—a deep sound filled with longi
ng. “Say it louder,” he demanded, then—smack.
“Nobody!” she shouted, digging her fingers into his shoulders and holding on for dear life. All she could think about was the way his body had complete control of hers—he could do anything he wanted to her right now and she was powerless to stop him.
He squeezed her ass again—squeezed it hard. “Louder,” he ordered again before another smack connected.
“Ohhhh!” She couldn’t even get the word formed as the climax ripped through her. All she could do was hold onto him as he thrust harder into her. His mouth clamped down on her breast again, the nip of his teeth making sure she was completely undone.
He thrust up once—twice—a third time before he froze. Silently, of course. Then he fell back against the chair, panting.
She collapsed against him, pulling free from him without letting go of him.
They lay there for a few long minutes, chests heaving, skin cooling off. “You are amazing,” she whispered against his skin.
“I didn’t … I didn’t hurt you?” His hand skimmed the surface of her bottom, where he’d smacked her three times.
No one had ever spanked her before. The kind of men she’d always chosen before had been the kind who’d learned everything they knew about sex from watching porn online. Blow jobs. Hard, fast pounding. Anal after the third date.
But not spanking. She would have thought it would have gone against all of her proper feminist views—and maybe it did—but it’d felt different. It’d been different. She’d liked it.
“Nope.” She let her hand settle over his bandage. “Did I hurt you?”
“Don’t care about that,” he said, his arms going around her waist as he held her—yes, actually held her.
She let herself sink into his arms. That was another thing her former lovers were not terribly good at—close contact outside of sex. The post-sex cuddle was somehow … pointless to them. The only point of touching was sex. If they’d already had sex, then what was the point of touching some more?
Nobody (Men of the White Sandy) (Volume 3) Page 17