Lead Me Home

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “You’re passionate about food.” Kissing his way across her collarbone, he nipped gently at her shoulder. “Food and sex…our basic needs.” Anticipation made his voice quiver as he moved down the slope of one breast. “At least, they’re mine.” At last he reached his destination and drew one furled nipple into his mouth.

  Moaning softly, she took his head in her hands and arched her back, holding him to her breast. “Yes,” she whispered. “Mine, too. Oh, mine, too.”

  His erection strained against his zipper as he lavished attention on her breasts. Releasing her hold on his head, she braced her arms behind her and thrust her chest forward, begging for more. Her hips shifted restlessly on the smooth enamel surface.

  He noticed, and took satisfaction in that impatient, wiggling motion. She wanted him as frantically as he wanted her.

  He hadn’t experienced this level of wild lust in years, and it felt good to want so much that his control was starting to slip. Gasping, he released her. “I want more.”

  Her rapid breathing making her breasts jiggle, she gazed up at him. “Meaning?”

  Silently he pulled the condom from his pocket.

  Her mouth curved in a purely feminine smile. “I didn’t know you were packing.”

  “Insulted?”

  “Oh, no.” She unbuttoned her capris and starting wiggling out of them. “Not at all.”

  7

  AURELIA HAD ALWAYS been grateful for her body even if it wasn’t designed for high fashion. Tonight she was even more grateful, because Matthew seemed mesmerized by her curves. He’d reacted to her like a man dying of thirst confronted with a bubbling fountain. He couldn’t seem to get enough.

  He helped her pull off her panties and her capris, but in the process he stopped to kiss her thighs, her knees, her calves and even her toes when he slipped off her sandals. She’d never had a man pay such worshipful attention in her life. He hadn’t been able to see and appreciate her sexy undies, but he obviously hadn’t needed the extra boost to his libido. He was wild for her.

  Then again, she was wild for him, too. She’d never tossed her clothes away with such abandon on only the second day after meeting someone. But Matthew wouldn’t be around long, and she didn’t want to waste time building up to what promised to be an outstanding sexual experience.

  Once he’d dispensed with her clothes, he reached for the buckle on his belt.

  “Wait.” She splayed her hand against his powerful chest, which heaved with eagerness. “I want to touch you, too. Let me…” Instead of finishing the sentence, she grasped the open collar of his shirt in both hands and pulled.

  Snaps gave way like exploding popcorn to reveal the spectacular pecs and abs she’d seen outlined by his tight T-shirt this morning. Pulling the shirttails from the waist of his jeans, she spread the material open and slid her hands from his taut stomach upward. She encountered passion-warmed skin, springy dark hair and flat nipples.

  She touched him lightly, teasingly, fascinated with the way he quivered as she explored with her fingers. “Are you ticklish?”

  “No, I’m about to explode.” His voice was tight. “I haven’t had a problem with premature ejaculation since I was sixteen. But with you, I’m worried.”

  She massaged his pecs. “You really think you’ll come while I do this?”

  “It’s not so much that, although I like it.” His voice was like sandpaper, and he cleared his throat. “Your breasts jiggle when you stroke me and that’s…driving me slowly insane.”

  “Oh.” She drew her hands back. “Wouldn’t want you to go crazy.”

  “I appreciate that.” He reached for his belt buckle again. “Now?”

  “Okay,” she said softly, her gaze focused on what he was about to unveil. She wanted what was inside his jeans, wanted it very much. She only hoped she could handle him. He was a very big guy.

  Then he unzipped his fly and shoved down his briefs, and she realized that he was, indeed, a very big guy. Her little gasp must have alerted him to her concern, because he glanced up before tearing open the condom package. “I’ll go slow,” he said.

  “I trust you.” Considering the ache of longing he’d created with all his kisses and urgent touching, she had to trust him. She needed him deep inside her as much as he needed to be there. They’d have to work it out.

  His fingers shook a little as he put on the condom. “I can’t believe how much I want you.”

  “The feeling’s mutual.”

  He snapped the condom into place and cupped her face in his big hands. “That’s nice to know.” He kissed her with a restraint that made him quiver, and then he lifted his mouth from hers. “I promise not to hurt you.”

  “I’m not worried.” But she was, a little. Still, the prize was worth the risk.

  “Scoot forward.”

  She did, her bottom sliding easily over the top of the dryer. “You’d better hold on to me or I’m liable to skate right across this surface like a hockey puck on an icy pond.”

  His grin flashed in the dim light. “Oh, I’m going to hold on to you, Aurelia.” His voice was rich with promise and desire. “I’m going to make sure we stay well and truly connected until we both have the orgasm we’re looking forward to.”

  That was the sort of confident boast that thrilled her right down to her already tingling toes.

  Grasping her thighs in his large, capable hands, he took a deep breath. “You can hold on to me, too.”

  “Where?” Her hand hovered over his impressive johnson.

  “Not there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Hold on to my arms.”

  She clutched his straining biceps. “Gotcha.”

  “Easy does it.” Drawing her closer to the edge, he probed with that amazing piece of equipment and sighed. “You’re drenched.”

  “Can’t help it.”

  “Nice compliment.” He rocked forward a little and drew in a sharp breath. “This is going to be good.”

  “Mmm.” She thought so, too, once she got used to the sheer girth of him.

  “You okay?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  His breathing was labored as he eased forward. “Stop me if you…ah, please don’t tell me to stop.”

  “Don’t stop.” As he slid deeper, she began to reap the benefits as he came in contact with every vibrating nerve ending in that sensitive channel. She had to agree with him. This was going to be good. Very good.

  Slowly he sank up to the hilt. She wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but she’d taken every bit of his length inside her so-willing body. Amazingly, they were a perfect fit.

  If she tightened around him the slightest bit, her body responded with waves of pleasure that could lead to a climax in no time. He wouldn’t even have to move.

  She clenched her muscles again and felt the beginnings of an orgasm.

  He groaned. “Nice.”

  “Stay still, and I can just—”

  “That’s no fun.” He eased back.

  “But you wouldn’t even have to move.”

  “But I want to, Aurelia.” He shoved deep again and withdrew.

  Her body vibrated, poised to erupt at any moment.

  He began to pump slowly. “I love stroking back and forth, listening to those little whimpers you’re making.”

  She hadn’t even realized she was doing it.

  “You can make yourself come, but I’d rather do the honors for you.”

  And was he ever. He took over the controls, creating a steady friction that coaxed whimpers, moans and gasps from her as he led her relentlessly toward a release that promised to eclipse anything she’d ever experienced.

  She felt it building, a tsunami that drew closer, and closer yet. He quickened the pace and kept to his vow of holding her steady despite his urgent stroking.

  “Come now,” he murmured. “Let go, Aurelia. Let it happen.”

  As if she had a choice. Arching upward, she came apart, and he caught her cries by covering her mouth. Even
though they were alone, he obviously wanted to be careful that they weren’t heard. He sustained the rhythm until she sank back against the smooth top of the dryer, sated with pleasure.

  Then it was his turn, and he buried himself firmly inside her as the spasms rocked his massive body. Wrenching his mouth away from hers, he pressed it against her shoulder to muffle his deep groans of satisfaction.

  They stayed that way for several minutes as their breathing slowed and sanity returned. Aurelia pried her fingers from Matthew’s arms and hoped she hadn’t left a mark he’d have trouble explaining later.

  Matthew rubbed her thighs where he’d been clutching her and seemed to have the same concern. “I hope I didn’t leave any bruises.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “If you did, no one will see them but you. I don’t wear shorts when I’m working.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Are you saying that we can do this again sometime?”

  “If you’re interested.”

  He chuckled. “I think you know the answer to that.”

  That warmed her. She’d thought he’d had a pretty good time, but she liked hearing it, anyway. “We might want to change the venue next time, though.”

  He lifted his head to gaze at her, even though visibility was limited in the unlit room. “Honestly, this isn’t the way I intended tonight to go. I thought we’d figure out a menu first, and then maybe have a little wine, and then…see what happened.”

  She laughed. “You were picturing something more normal, like a bed?”

  “As a matter of fact, I was. I know you have one in your apartment.”

  “I had the same idea.” She cupped his face in her hands. “But it’s flattering to think that you couldn’t wait.”

  “It’s embarrassing. The minute I was alone with you in a darkened room, I started kissing you.”

  “You notice I didn’t offer any objections.” She combed her fingers through his hair. “I knew this was likely to happen, but I wasn’t sure how it would play out.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Considering that I’ve been fantasizing about you since we met, tonight was a foregone conclusion, but doing it in the laundry room might not be the classiest move I’ve ever made.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss on his mouth. “It’s an original way to kick off a fling.”

  He was silent for a moment. “It’s probably good you brought that up. I’d meant to, but I got carried away before we had any chance to talk.”

  “Look, Matthew, you’re an internationally known horseman who travels the globe for your job. I’m a bank teller who loves to cook but hates to travel. A fling is all we could ever have, given those circumstances.”

  “I’m glad we agree on that.”

  “I knew it from the moment I started having inappropriate thoughts about your body.”

  That made him laugh. “And when was that, exactly?”

  “When you first walked through the kitchen door yesterday.”

  “That’s about the same time I started having inappropriate thoughts about your body, too.”

  “And isn’t it nice that we can agree to enjoy each other without getting tangled up in obligations?”

  “Yes.” He stroked his hands along her thighs. “Yes, it is. Our only obligation is to plan some menus together.”

  “Which we should probably do now.”

  He sighed. “I suppose. And we can’t stay in the laundry room forever.” But he didn’t move away.

  “No.”

  “At some point I have to disengage from your warm and inviting body.”

  “Yes.” But she missed him the moment he did. There was a feeling of rightness to that connection that had no business being so perfect. They had no future. But, she had to admit, they had one heck of a present.

  * * *

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Matthew gazed at Aurelia across the small kitchen table and tried to concentrate on something besides the gentle rise and fall of her breasts under the green lacy top and the perfect bow of her upper lip, which he longed to trace with his tongue. He’d chosen to sit across the table from her because sitting beside her was definitely going to lead to more touching, kissing and fondling, and he’d only brought one condom.

  When he’d told her, she’d kidded him about his low expectations. Then she’d sweetly suggested he could go back to the bunkhouse and fetch some more. But he couldn’t get away with that kind of expedition while the guys were still awake and playing poker.

  So they were planning the next day’s lunch menu, as he’d promised the cowhands he would do. It was important, after all, because planning successful menus would guarantee him the right to come back to see Aurelia every night. Next time he’d bring more than one condom.

  “Poulet demi-deuil.” Aurelia pointed to the picture in the cookbook. “It means—”

  “I know. Chicken in partial mourning. It’s the partial mourning that’s going to get you into trouble. Even if you can get the black truffles—”

  “I can. I’ve found a gourmet market in Jackson that has all sorts of great ingredients.”

  “But if you tuck those black truffles under the skin of the roasted chicken like the recipe says, every cowboy in the room, with the possible exception of Pete, who’s fairly sophisticated, will think that chicken has mange. Or it’s somehow decaying and you haven’t noticed.”

  “I can tell them it’s only black truffles. And they’ll learn something new.”

  “Aurelia, there are certain colors that don’t work with your average cowboy when it comes to food. Black is one of them. When he sees black food, he assumes it’s either burnt or it’s gone bad. It’s a mind-set that you’ll have trouble changing.”

  Her beautiful mouth formed the cutest little pout. If he left his chair and went over there, he could get rid of that pout and have a great time doing it. But they wouldn’t get the menu planned, and after they’d kissed and carried on, all without any satisfaction for him because he was without a second condom, she might go ahead with the chicken in partial mourning that she was so set on.

  Then he’d get slammed for not being able to influence her food choices. If he couldn’t do that, people might question what business he had coming up here every night, and the whole program would be in jeopardy. So he couldn’t leave his chair and kiss away her pout.

  “Use regular mushrooms instead of the black truffles and then you’ll be okay,” he said. “Oh, and where it tells you to puree all the veggies and pour them on the platter? Don’t puree the veggies. The guys will think you’re giving them baby food.”

  Aurelia propped her chin on her fist and stared at him. “Then it’s not the same dish.”

  “No, but it’s not fried chicken and potato salad, either.”

  “You’re no fun, Matthew.”

  He smiled at her. “That isn’t what you said in the laundry room.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Okay, you’re fun in that respect, but when it comes to cooking, you’re a total wet blanket.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “I think they’d be fascinated by the black truffles.”

  “Sure they would, as long as you didn’t serve them for lunch. When a man’s been mucking out stalls all morning, it’s best not to startle him with what’s on his plate for lunch. He wants something he recognizes, and black truffles don’t qualify.”

  “Okay, okay!” She held up her hands in surrender. “I’ll make it with regular mushrooms and I won’t puree the veggies. I can see your point about that part. A grown man doesn’t want his veggies put through a blender as if he has no teeth to chew with.”

  “Now you’re getting the idea. By the way, will the boys be eating dinner here tomorrow night?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to serve them?” Matthew figured he might as well cover that base while he was at it.

  “Bifteck marchand de vin.”

  “I get the wine and steak part of that, but what’s
the marchand in it?”

  “It’s shallot-red-wine sauce.”

  “Mmm.” Matthew could almost taste it. “Wish I could have some of that tomorrow night.”

  “Come on up. I’m sure Sarah wouldn’t care, and the boys would love it.”

  He considered that for a moment. “I think I’d better eat down at the bunkhouse. The guys like the fact that I’m hanging out down there, and if I started coming up here to eat dinner, I don’t know how that would go over. But I wouldn’t object if you saved me a little bit to taste.”

  “I can do that. So you approve of my dinner menu for the kids, then?”

  “I think they’ll like it fine.”

  “I can have yours ready when you get here.” She gave him a slow smile. “You want it sliced and made into a tender little sandwich? Or juicy and hot?”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about the steak?”

  “Would I do that?”

  “I think you might. And I think…” He forgot what he’d been about to say when her foot slid up his leg and across his thigh to settle against his crotch. “What are you doing, Aurelia Imogene?”

  “Nothing.”

  But she was definitely doing something. She’d slipped off her sandal and was rubbing the ball of her foot over his zipper. She was getting a rise out of him, too.

  Reaching down, he caught her foot and held it still. “Don’t tease.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I would love it if I’d brought more supplies, but I didn’t, so you’re torturing me for nothing.”

  “For someone who’s traveled the world, you don’t have much imagination when it comes to sex.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to make that claim.”

  “That could be true.” Pulling her foot free, she scooted down in her chair. “Maybe I should get to know you better.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then let me demonstrate.” In no time she’d disappeared under the table, and next thing he knew, she was kneeling under it and had a hold on his zipper.

  “Aurelia.” He leaned over and peered at her. “Come out of there.”

  “I will in a minute.” She pulled his zipper down and reached inside his jeans.