Woman on the Run (new version)

by Lisa Marie Rice

  Sally gave him a tremulous smile, which he didn’t return. He couldn’t smile. What he was feeling was too big for a smile.

  Still, a smile was good news. He was doing this right. So far, at least.

  Cooper let out a shaky breath. Now he didn’t have to watch her face so carefully. Now he could take a good look at what he’d uncovered.

  He felt half dazed when he finally dropped his gaze. She was small, dainty, utterly perfect. He was almost afraid to touch her, afraid he’d mar the milky pale skin so delicate it looked as if it would bruise if he breathed too hard on it.

  He ran one long forefinger around her right breast, then cupped it carefully. He had been right. She fit neatly into his cupped hand. She felt like warm satin. He bent his head and brought his mouth to her breast, licking the small rosy nipple, sucking it. It tasted exactly as he’d imagined it would. Like a cherry. Both her nipples tasted like cherries. When he lifted his head, they were wet from his mouth, hard and deep pink.

  Her breathing had sped up. He could see her heartbeat in her left breast, beating overly fast. Desire? Fear?

  Cooper leaned forward again, brushing his mouth over hers. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.” He hoped to God that was true.

  “No,” Sally whispered. But the voice was soft, uncertain.

  This was his cue to keep reassuring her with words, warm her up, soften her up. Sally Andersen was a teacher, a reader. Words would go a long way toward making her relax with him. If he found the right ones, words could even excite her. Cooper needed her to be excited, needed her little cunt to be wet and welcoming. Otherwise this wouldn’t work at all.

  It was just his stinking luck that Cooper didn’t have any seductive and reassuring words in him, none at all. Not at the best of times, let alone now, when his brain was blasted with lust. It was a miracle he could even talk at all.

  Cooper released his grip on her chair. He needed to get her naked, right now, and he needed both hands free for that. He unsnapped her jeans, pulled down the zipper and opened the jeans, nearly groaning as the backs of his fingers brushed against her soft, flat belly. Curling one arm around her back, Cooper lifted her easily, brushing jeans and panties down and off with his other hand, taking her cotton socks and shoes off with the rest of her clothes. Finally, she was naked.

  Oh, shit.

  Cooper eased Sally back onto the chair, keeping one hand on her upper thigh, staring at the glossy red curls next to his hand. He moved his head forward until his forehead met hers. “You’re a redhead,” he breathed.

  Sally Andersen was a redhead and he was officially a dead man. Any hopes he had of keeping himself a little separate, not falling head over heels for her, were blown right out of the water.

  She was stunningly beautiful, smart, kindhearted, warm. And a redhead. He was a goner.

  “Yes. Yes, um…yes, I am.” She took in a deep breath, lifting her head away to search his eyes. “Um…is that a problem?” Crazily, Sally looked frozen, uncertain, even a little scared. Did she think he was put off by red hair?

  “No.” Cooper cleared his throat. “I love red hair on a woman.”

  “Oh.” It was more a soft exhalation of breath than a word. “That—that’s good, then.”

  “Mmm.” He couldn’t answer. The noise in his head was too loud for that. He was too busy studying the contrast of his hand on her thigh, his rough dark skin against her soft pale skin. As if it weren’t his, as if it had a mind of its own, his hand shifted, cupped her, right where he wanted to slide his cock in, just as soon as it was humanly possible.

  Sally opened her legs, just a little, but enough to be a welcome. The hair covering her mound was soft rather than springy, not too thick. Cooper’s fingers slid through the folds of her sex. They were both trembling now, as he tested her. As he’d suspected, she was tiny. But wet.

  Wet was good. Enough of it and he was finally going to be able to sink his aching cock in her. Not now. Not yet. But very soon or he’d die.

  He probed her, carefully spreading the wetness around the little opening, circling the clitoris.

  It had surprised the hell out of him when a waitress had once said she loved being touched there by him. Apparently, most men poked and prodded, pressing hard, shaking and pumping their hand, as if the clit were a cock. Amazing what assholes men could be.

  It was instinctive for him to touch a woman there carefully. They were so soft, it was so small. If you weren’t paying attention, if you were ham-handed, you missed all the little signals a woman’s body was sending you.

  A woman’s sex was like a horse’s mouth. Before he hired a ranch hand, Cooper watched how the man used the bit. Horses might be big and rough but they had delicate mouths. Treat it badly and you hurt them. Treat it well and they were yours.

  This was where a man’s strength was no use whatsoever. He’d seen big strong tough stable hands fuck up with a horse’s mouth. And big strong tough men fuck up with women.

  Horses needed a delicate touch at times. Women were the same. How could you press and saw at flesh so tender and soft?

  Sally’s legs were open now. She was getting wetter by the second. Cooper probed with his finger, watching her carefully. Watching the flush rise from her breasts to her face. Watching her mouth fall slightly open to catch more air. Watching her breathing speeding up.

  Cooper pressed his finger inside her, feeling the soft flesh open for him. He moved his finger carefully. Most women had a flashpoint, right there…

  She moaned and opened her thighs for him more, the muscles in her belly tightening. Cooper stopped, frozen for a moment, his hand stilled. Inside his jeans, he could feel his cock weeping. He shook, a second from coming.

  Sally brought a trembling hand to his face. Her hand was no longer icy cold. It felt like a brand against his skin. “Cooper?” She studied his eyes. “Do you—do you want to go to bed?”

  “Like I want my next breath,” he rasped. His throat was hot, scratchy. The words felt like stones in his throat, coming out painfully, one by one. “But once I have you on a bed and I get out of these jeans, I’m going to be inside you with my next heartbeat. I won’t be able to stop for anything. So the only foreplay you’re going to get is right now, right here. In this chair.”

  “Oh.” Sally’s beautiful mouth rounded into an O. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she processed what he said. She opened her mouth to speak again and his thumb circled her clitoris. Sally’s breath left her lungs with an audible whoosh. He could feel her arousal in a long pull of her internal muscles against his finger and he could see it, in the increased heartbeat in her breast and neck. He gritted his teeth. If his cock swelled any more it would burst out of its skin.

  He breathed harshly, in and out, in an effort at control.

  “There’s more,” Cooper warned. This had to be said while he still had some blood in his head. “I only have one condom in my wallet. For sentimental reasons, I guess, because it’s been over two years since I had sex. It’s probably expired. And one rubber isn’t going to be enough at all. The way I feel right now, ten won’t be enough. I don’t know how we’re going to deal with that.”

  She flushed brightly, going from pale rose to bright pink in an instant. She smiled shakily and tugged at the hand inside her. Cooper let her pull his hand out and was astonished when she brought his hand to her mouth, brushing her lips across his knuckles. His finger and palm were slick with her juices.

  “We’re okay,” she whispered. Her eyes were twin turquoise pools. So bright, so deep he felt as if he could drown in them. “I had irregular periods. My gynecologist put me on the pill. There’s no need to—”

  Whatever she was going to say was drowned in his mouth. Cooper rose with her in his arms, bearing her away.

  Chapter Seven

  It was like flying.

  Julia had no sensation of gravity at all, of having a weight in this world. Cooper carried her so easily, it was as if she wer
e airborne. What kept her anchored was the feel of his strong muscles holding her and his mouth on hers.

  There was no hesitation, no fumbling, no checking rooms. As if he’d lived in the little house all his life, Cooper unerringly made for her bedroom. The door was partially closed and he kicked it open with his booted foot so hard it bounced off the wall. The sound was like the crack of a bullet in the silent night.

  It was the first sign that his control was snapping, a sign that that iron grip he held on himself was cracking. If she weren’t held in a net of fire, it would have chilled her. Though every muscle had been hard and tense as he’d kissed her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was massively aroused by the kisses. Sweet gentle kisses, actually. Sweeter than most she’d had.

  Any other man would have gone straight for the goods after she’d said she was willing to sleep with him. Not Cooper. He’d kissed her carefully, touched her carefully, watched her carefully, waiting. If she hadn’t seen and sensed his iron control, she’d have thought he was the kind of man who ignited slowly.

  But the muscles of his face had been tightly drawn, nostrils flared like a stallion’s. Though she hadn’t dared to stare, she’d caught a glimpse of his massive erection through his jeans.

  His control was so tight she’d thought she might get away with a gentle bout of lovemaking and she could cuddle afterwards. That was the part of sex she always liked best. The comfort of being held. But if Cooper was already kicking down doors, it was going to be rougher than she bargained for.

  Cooper made a beeline for her bed and followed her down, still kissing her. When she was on the bed, he drew away.

  The loss of his intense body heat chilled her. Lying on the bed, Julia was suddenly aware of the fact that she was stark naked. She reached for the coverlet to pull it over her.

  “Don’t,” he growled. He shook his head, sharply. “Don’t cover yourself.”

  “I’m cold,” Julia whispered. She was. And a little frightened, too, though she couldn’t say that. She’d started this, after all. She had no business being reticent. She’d invited Sam Cooper into her bed and there was no turning back now.

  But there was something a little scary about Cooper as he undressed in hasty jerky motions, that male grace she’d so admired completely gone. He seemed even larger and more powerful than ever, thick deep muscles flexing and rippling as he stripped. The light from the living room through the open bedroom door allowed her to see Cooper as he jerked off sweater and tee shirt and sent them flying. A few swipes of his hand and he was naked, his large penis jutting out from a dense nest of black pubic hair.

  Julia suddenly shivered at seeing what the clothes had masked.

  She’d seen buff bodies before, of course, at her gym and in photographs. But they had nothing whatsoever to do with the powerful being standing naked by her bed. Cooper’s body didn’t look like a cover-boy type of male body at all. It was stronger, harder, tougher than that. His chest was covered in a mat of thick black hair, black hairs on his forearms and legs, too. His muscles were sculpted by something other than gym equipment. By life, by battle. His body was broad, hard, scarred. A warrior’s body.

  He was a warrior.

  Julia had completely forgotten that, forgotten that he wasn’t just a nice rancher who wasn’t too good with words. He was, essentially, a trained killer. Probably just like the killers who were after her.

  In one quick surge of panic, Julia realized that in her pain and loneliness she had broken Herbert Davis’ cardinal rule—don’t get involved with the locals. She wasn’t supposed to let anyone get close to her. It was too dangerous, he’d said. She couldn’t let anyone know she was in the Witness Security Program. Santana had a long reach and a five million dollar bounty was enough to tempt anyone. Julia might well have signed her own death sentence in inviting Cooper into her bed.

  In more ways than one. He was the most powerful man she’d ever seen. He could snap her neck with one strong sinewy hand.

  Cooper turned slightly towards her. His penis was enormous, long and broad, weeping from the tip.

  Danger came from many sources. This was one.

  Julia’s heart was thumping so hard, she thought the whole house must surely shake from it. Panic and fear and excitement melded into one huge emotion almost too big for her to contain it.

  Cooper kneeled on the bed, his heavy weight making the old mattress dip. Julia had to clench her muscles so she wouldn’t roll into the valley he’d created.

  As he bent over her, Cooper didn’t look like a lover about to have sex. He looked like a warrior about to kill. The muscles in his chest and arms were corded, biceps flexing and bulging as he braced one long, strong arm over her to mount her, pulling her thighs apart with his other hand. He wasn’t smiling. There was no softness at all in his face as he looked down at her. The skin over his high angular cheekbones was stretched taut and there was a grim cast to his mouth.

  Even his penis was more like a weapon than an instrument of pleasure. It was thick, hard as a club and much larger than any male member she’d ever seen.

  He was danger personified and she couldn’t run away.

  Her body closed in on itself in panic, but it was too late.

  Cooper covered her. He was heavy, unyielding. For a second she couldn’t breathe. One big hand reached between them as he opened the lips of her vagina. She could feel the broad hard head of his penis being fitted to her before she had a chance to relax her vaginal muscles to ease his passage. He thrust sharply with all the strength of his pelvis, hard and deep.

  It hurt.

  Cooper’s penis was too large for her, she wasn’t ready. It burned inside her, stretching her mercilessly.

  Julia blinked away the sudden tears. She whimpered once, then bit her lip. She’d wanted this, had asked for it. If it was too much for her, it was her own damned fault.

  Cooper pulled his head back and up, gasping for breath, as if cresting a wave. A thick strand of straight black hair fell over his forehead. His jaw muscles flexed. The tendons in his neck stood out in raised cords.

  “Fuck,” he gritted, gripping her hips hard. “You’re not ready.” He was sweating. A drop of perspiration fell on her cheekbone. “Can’t stop. Can’t. Sorry.” His deep voice was strained. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  With a groan, Cooper’s chest lowered until he lay heavily on her, face buried in the pillow next to hers. His thighs flexed powerfully and he began thrusting, fast and hard, with the full strength of his body.

  It was exactly like being caught in a wild storm, buffeted by the wind and the elements. Julia clung to Cooper’s shoulders, not in a lover-like embrace, but as she would cling to a tree in a raging tempest.

  The tempo of Cooper’s thrusts increased until he was slamming into her, the bed thudding heavily against the wall, the springs creaking loudly in protest. It went on so long Julia lost track of the time, until it felt as if she had spent her entire life with Cooper’s penis inside her, pistoning back and forth.

  Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, Julia surged into climax. She cried out as a wave hit her like an oncoming train, her entire lower body clenching in hard fast convulsions.

  Usually, it took her a long time to climax. She’d start feeling little tendrils of pleasure, as if they were arriving from a long way off. Her thighs would start shaking and she would feel warmth in her lower belly. Her body was letting her know what was going to happen long before it actually did.

  Not this time. This time it was as if a powerful switch had been suddenly thrown, hurtling her into the strongest orgasm she’d ever had, her vagina pulling tightly on Cooper’s penis.

  Cooper shouted into the pillow and she felt the vibrations of his deep voice against her arms, her chest. He groaned and growled, swelled even further inside her and climaxed, too. His thrusts stopped as he pressed into her, as deeply as he could go, jetting waves of semen into her.

  Julia’s climax tapered o
ff. She was clinging tightly to Cooper’s shoulders. The muscles in his back were rock-hard with tension, slick with sweat. She was slick all over, too, from Cooper’s sweat and her own, and from his semen trickling out of her, wetting her inner thighs. Julia suddenly realized how…how polite the sex she’d had before had been. Nice polite sex, with no sweating, like taking tea with a man, only more fun and naked.

  This had been elemental, brutal, animal. Not nice. Not polite. Even the pleasure had been an…animal pleasure, the way eagles or cougars mated.

  He was still iron-hard inside her. Cooper hadn’t been joking when he said once wasn’t going to be enough.

  Once was quite enough for her.

  Julia was exhausted, overwhelmed by the rough, lengthy sex and the explosive orgasm. Her muscles felt limp, rubbery. Cooper was so heavy she had to inflate her lungs forcefully to be able to breathe. Her thighs were held open to their maximum width, completely open to him. Julia was wondering when it would be okay to push at his shoulder, when Cooper’s hips started moving again.

  Oh God, not again. Already it had been the longest sex she’d ever had. And the most exciting. It was still exciting. Though her head told her enough was enough, her lower body wasn’t listening at all.

  Cooper’s deep, heavy strokes were more exciting than before. She was thoroughly wet now, with her climax and the amount of semen he’d pumped into her. He moved slickly in and out of her and she was burning up with the pleasure.

  Cooper lifted his head and stared down at her, the strong dark features hard and expressionless. They were engaged in the most intimate act two humans could perform and yet she couldn’t tell in any way what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

  He was thrusting heavily now, deep hard strokes filling her with raw heat. His hands came up to frame her face, thumbs on her cheeks. Julia was completely immobilized. She couldn’t move her body in any direction, his heavy weight pinned her. She couldn’t move her head. His gaze was so intense she couldn’t even close her eyes.

  Slowly, Cooper’s head lowered until his mouth touched hers. To her astonishment, the kiss wasn’t rough, possessive. He touched her mouth lightly, gently, with his, over and over. Light kisses feathered over her cheekbones and eyelids, as soft and as gentle as butterfly kisses. Cooper’s mouth roamed over her forehead, lightly brushing her ear, along her jawline. His mouth was warm and soft. Achingly tender.