Wild Ways

by Tina Wainscott

  He helped her get into position, one that opened her to his ministrations. And put her face only inches from his. “Good. Now relax.” He slid his hands down her sides, his thumbs brushing the outer edge of her breasts. Yes, she was hungry for his touch. Desperately, embarrassingly hungry, and she’d die before asking him to cup them. This … this was crazy enough.

  Crazy delicious. His fingers found her again, chasing away all thoughts. He moved slowly, as though he were enjoying this as much as she was. And, oh, she was. She caught her breath as his finger moved down over her entrance and dipped inside. She felt the slipperiness, her own lubrication or the water, she wasn’t sure. Julian eased his finger in and out with deep strokes while his thumb grazed her clit.

  A different kind of tension stole through her, tightening her muscles. Her breath came in embarrassingly loud gasps as an insane kind of pleasure overtook her. Then she remembered how good it felt to let go when she was pretending.

  Well, can’t pretend to be pretending now, can we?

  Especially when she was about to slide over the edge. Just then, his thumb skirted away, leaving her hanging in painfully sweet limbo.

  “What … are you doing? Or not doing?” She was back in that place, wanting to beg for more. What was happening to her?

  “No need to rush. Is there?” His voice had a teasing lilt.

  “I’m good with rushing,” she said with a squeak.

  “If there’s something you’ll learn about me, it’s that I don’t do things half-assed or rushed.” While his hand remained still, his other one roamed over her stomach as though he were reading braille. Methodically, reverently. The tips of his fingers touched the swell of her breast. She inhaled, willing them to move farther up.

  “You wanted me to touch your boobs earlier,” he whispered.

  “How do you know?”

  “The same way I can feel you straining now to lean into my palm. The way your nails are digging into the back of my neck, urging me on. Don’t be shy about saying what you want. This is all about you right now. What you want. Need. Just tell me.”

  Her breath hitched at those words. She showed him instead, taking his hand and molding it over her breast. Even beneath the water, his hand felt warm as it closed over her. A long breath came from her chest. Sweet relief. He squeezed softly, his thumb trailing over her nipple. She couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, but she could tell he was smiling. He leaned forward and kissed her, a kiss for no other purpose than pleasure this time. His tongue slid inside her mouth, dancing with hers. His hand gave equal time to both her breasts. The other began making those same maddening circles around her clit again.

  “I bet you can rub your tummy and pat your head, too,” she murmured between kisses.

  His chuckle was husky. “I can, but this is more fun.”

  Her hips were moving with him, all on their own. And yes, her fingers were digging into his upper shoulders where she clutched him. He continued kissing her even as her breaths panted in and out.

  “Don’t stop,” she breathed. “For the love of God, please don’t stop this time.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, the smile clear in his voice.

  Feels … so … good. When was the last time she’d felt this decadent? No answer came to her, but a tidal wave of pleasure was definitely approaching. She arched as it seized her. Her whole body shuddered, throbbing all around the finger still moving inside her. She collapsed against him, completely satisfied. Boneless. Vibrating. And still he touched her, sliding across her insanely sensitive nub. She twitched, hardly able to stand it. Had he missed her orgasm?

  “I’ve come,” she said. “You can … stop.”

  “You’ve only come once,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck. “I’ll stop after the third time. Unless you want more.”

  “No …” she gasped, but couldn’t say anything else as another orgasm crashed over her. A third? He wasn’t going to stop until he did this one more time? No, he wasn’t, because he was still stroking and making the pressure build again, and then yes, a third orgasm hit her.

  “One more?” he asked.

  She unfolded herself from him and regained her footing on wobbly legs, dizzy with the aftershocks. “I can’t take anymore.”

  He leaned close, kissing her, bracing his hands on her cheeks. “Feel relaxed now?”

  Relaxed? That wasn’t quite the word she’d use. Fantastic. Languid. Shattered. Oh, that’s right; relaxing had been the goal. Right? Her thoughts were so scattered. “I’m so relaxed, I can hardly stand.” She could feel the hard length of him grazing her thigh, but not in an insistent way. “My tension is definitely released.” Except another kind of tension coiled even deeper inside her.

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the river. Water rained down from their bodies. He easily carried her up the slope of the bank to her roll. She loved being held by him, the feel of his strength, of him taking care of her.

  He’s planning on you taking care of him next, that skeptical part of her reminded, keeping her from sliding into that dangerous place. Come on, Julian, break your promise. Make this feel typical and wrong so I won’t want it again. Because, oh, she did. And she wanted to please him, too. To feel all of him, and that was crazy. She’d just met him, and she didn’t have sex with men she hardly knew.

  He set her on her feet, grabbed the towel, and gently rubbed her dry. Then he gathered her in his arms and lowered her to her roll as though she weighed twenty pounds. He bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead, then settled onto his roll on his back. “Sleep well.”

  He may as well have turned into a rabbit. And what she was feeling made about as much sense. She was both relieved and disappointed. If he’d hinted about her getting him off, she would have been disappointed. No, relieved! Damn, he had her all twisted up.

  She turned to face him. “You’re not going to try to change my mind about going further?”

  She could see slashes of him in the moonlight, his muscular chest, his chin. His erection rigid against his ridged stomach. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

  Her eyes hungrily drank in what she could see of him. She ached to have those strong yet gentle hands exploring more of her, all of her. “You’re … turned on just by getting me turned on? Without expecting anything in return?”

  “Pleasuring a woman is a turn-on in itself, yes. And no, I’m not going to sleep with an unresolved hard-on. Nor am I going to slink off like a twelve-year-old. I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable while I resolve the situation.”

  He could have gone back to the Inn and probably picked up any one of the women she’d seen eyeing him. But no, he was staying here. Without a speck of shame about getting himself off. That he’d gotten aroused just by pleasuring her coiled through her sated body.

  “I could—”

  “No way,” he said. “Now you feel like you should return the favor, and then later you’ll think I planned it that way all along. I’m a man of my word. A particularly horny one at the moment. See, it’s been a while for me. I thought the road would be all about picking up wild women, but I haven’t seen one I’d want anywhere near my cock.”

  Something inside her shifted, and it scared her. She wanted him to be shallow and deceptive, not honorable. Not honest about his lack of recent sex or open about his arousal and what he was doing about it. She’d caught her ex, Jimmie, jacking off once, in the closed bathroom. He’d gotten defensive and angry, blaming her for his need.

  Julian bore neither shame nor resentment. She couldn’t comprehend that he’d truly done it for her alone. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t feel obligated to pleasure him back. It went deeper than that, a desire to give him the gift he’d given her. To touch him as intimately as he’d touched her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Those words seemed inadequate.

  “It was my pleasure. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight.”

  In that bit of m
oonlight, she watched him wrap his hand around his erection, his muscles rippling with his movements, his breath coming fast. Her body pulled toward him, and she fought the urge to cross that short space between their beds. The same way it had happened in the river, she was drawn to him.

  Her fingers flexed involuntarily, imagining his cock as she stroked him instead. But her throbbing core had other ideas for that rigid length of him, throbbing even more at listening to unrestrained groans of pleasure. The moonlight silvered the ridges of his wet abs as they tightened, and then his whole body seized with his own release. She felt the heat of it running through her body, the way he let out a string of guttural Spanish. And finally his exhalation as he relaxed and caught his breath. His hand spread across his erection, his release shiny in the light.

  Several seconds passed, and she could almost feel his breath hot against her neck, imagined herself straddling him, her body flat against his, and her face against his chest. She shivered with it, so clear and visceral, she could almost feel his throbbing cock inside her.

  “You watched,” he said, though not accusingly. In fact, he sounded surprised. Amused.

  That’s when she realized she was sitting up, facing him. Oh, gawd, could she have been more obvious?

  She squashed the urge to apologize. “I’ve never seen a guy get off.” No need to mention Jimmie. “Guess I got caught up in it.”

  “See, it’s arousing to watch someone else come.” He pushed off the ground in one swift motion and walked to the river.

  “I didn’t say it was arousing. Just interesting.”

  He chuckled, insinuating that he didn’t believe her. She heard him splash into the water. A few minutes later he returned, drying off and flopping down on his roll with a satisfied sigh. It was only then that she realized she was still naked. And a little damp. Too wet to put her pajamas back on. She hugged herself and rubbed her hands down her arms to warm up.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “A little chilly. Aren’t you?”

  “I’m fine. I wish I had a blanket to offer, but it’s been too warm to bother with one. How about I be your blanket?”

  She opened her mouth to say, Thanks, but no thanks, and nothing came out. Because the thought of him wrapped around her stole her objections away. The idea that it wouldn’t be a ploy to get sex, only to comfort her, replaced them with a dangerously warm, fuzzy feeling. This man was too good to be true. She needed to remember that.

  He shimmied into his briefs and pulled his roll next to hers. “Turn on to your side and face the other way.” His strong arms came around her as the front of his body snuggled up from behind. A small mewling sound escaped her at the pure joy of being held, protected. “You all right?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes. “I’m …” So many words crowded into her head. Grateful. Amazed. So close to falling for you that I want to run screaming into the night. “Warm now,” she finished lamely. “This feels nice.” She didn’t dare tell him how wonderful it felt.

  “Good.” He tightened his hold, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Oh, I should warn you—sometimes I have nightmares. I’m back in Afghanistan, Kabul. If I scream or thrash, get out of my way. If you try to wake me, do it very gently.”

  “Good to know.”

  “And whatever you do, don’t let me grab my gun or knife.”

  She turned toward him on that one. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I don’t know if I will, I’m just saying …”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “G’night, Mollie.”

  “Goodnight,” she whispered. She settled even farther into the cocoon of his body and fell into the best sleep she’d had in years.

  Chapter 8

  The dream didn’t come until early morning. Julian rarely called them nightmares, because these were based on reality. Two bad guys were only shadows in the moonless landscape of downtown Baghdad. Amid the rubble were silhouettes of palm trees against the dark night sky. He raised his HK416, ready to fire. A sound right behind him had him spinning around.

  “Julian!”

  A woman’s voice. A very American woman’s voice. He felt hands wrapped around his wrists as his eyes snapped open. Not a bad guy hovering above him, trying to push him into the ground. No, the face of a honey-haired angel, that hair hanging above his face like a curtain.

  The panic on her face turned to relief. “You curse in your sleep, you know.”

  He shook away the last of the dream as he came to a sitting position. “I also shoot people in my sleep.” He checked to make sure he hadn’t grabbed the gun he’d left within reach. Still there, hidden beneath the edge of his bag. “Sorry if I scared you.”

  She sat back on her heels, now fully dressed. “I’m glad you warned me. You have PTSD?”

  He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Probably a touch of it. On top of that, we’re used to grabbing a few hours of sleep here and there. I know SEALs who have been out for decades and still don’t sleep more than three hours at a stretch.”

  “But you loved what you did. Do you miss it?”

  “Yes on both. You’re dressed.” Not the slickest change of subject, but he wasn’t in the mood to go into why he was no longer active.

  “One of the times you woke up and prowled, I dug my clothes out of my bag. It felt funny sleeping naked.” With you, she didn’t say, but he knew she was thinking it. Not that he blamed her. Hell, they’d only met the day before.

  But oh, do you know her well.

  He remembered coming back and settling in next to her, finding her fully clothed. Missing the feel of her soft skin, the warmth of her body snuggled up against his. But he had liked the way she had let out a sweet little sigh as she nestled closer. He’d liked that a lot.

  She was looking at him, her gaze soft. “Thank you for … everything you did last night. For luring me into the water, that other thing, and then keeping me warm all night.” Mollie nervously brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. She glanced away, clearly uncomfortable talking about any of it.

  “No need to thank me. I enjoyed it, too.”

  A heavy silence settled between them. Somewhere in the distance a lawnmower buzzed and a woman laughed. Those who were at the campground were beginning to wake up. He wanted to act on that silence and what it meant, but it was probably better that they couldn’t. Mollie was spooked enough.

  He dug into his duffel bag and pulled out clean clothes for the day. Jeans, a black tank top, and the loose shirt over it to conceal his weapon. After dressing, he grabbed both their bags and his roll as she grabbed her own roll, and they packed everything on the bike.

  “Let’s grab breakfast and check in with Chase.”

  She nodded eagerly, no doubt in a hurry to find out if he had found her sister’s lover. Mollie easily got on the bike behind him, and they took the scant road back to the Inn. He liked the feel of her back there now, as much as he told himself that he preferred riding solo.

  They ordered, and once again Julian had her choose something heartier than Mollie thought she should have.

  “You need more than a couple of pancakes for a possible long ride.” He looked at the waitress. “She’ll also have two eggs—” He looked at her, arching an eyebrow in question.

  “Over medium,” Mollie supplied, the pique clear in her voice.

  “And a side of fresh fruit. Double that.” He handed the server both their menus.

  Mollie propped her chin on her upturned palm. “I suppose you think this falls under the umbrella of following your orders.”

  “Definitely. You need a little meat on your bones, mami.” She was already underweight, no doubt from all the stress. He’d felt the jut of her hip bones and ridges of her ribs as his hands moved over her skin. That observation unleashed a whole bunch of images from the night before. Yeah, he pushed that on her, too. Not that she fought awfully hard. She needed some relief from the tension she lived with.

  He’d known h
e would get aroused, too, had promised himself he would in no way use that sense of obligation she seemed to possess to help him achieve orgasm. But what surprised him was the way holding her through the night had felt. Sure, he’d spent the night with women before. He wasn’t one of those losers who had sex and then went home. All he could think of, with his body wrapped around hers, was But you’ve never spent the night with Mollie.

  On one of his prowlings, as Mollie referred to them, he had checked his phone. Chase, who obviously also didn’t sleep through the night, had texted in response to his request: Are you getting too invested?

  No doubt. But I need to see this through.

  Just be smart about it. No “white knight in shining armor” stuff.

  Their food arrived, and they both made quick work of clearing their plates.

  When she saw him inspecting her plate, she said, “I ate everything already.”

  “Good girl.”

  She planted her elbow on the table and rested her cheek against her hand. “I’m not used to someone taking care of me. It feels weird. I’m always the one getting people to finish their food, to eat healthier and take care of themselves.”

  They had had such different upbringings. He’d been one of a brood with an overbearing, loving mother. Mollie had been a mother to her mom and her sister. And she seemed drawn to men who also needed a mother. “Do you like taking care of people?”

  She considered the question. “I don’t think I like it. But I need to, if that makes any sense.”

  “These guys you’ve dated, do they need taking care of, too?”

  She let out a long sigh. “I suppose they do. If some guy’s emotionally needy or troubled, I pull him into my orbit like a magnet. I draw the line at dating guys who drink too much or do drugs. But in the end, I’m still propping them up.”

  He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of them. “Then you must be totally repelled by me.” He grinned. “Because I don’t need a mommy.”

  “But you do call me ‘mommy,’ ” she teased.