by BETH KERY
She gladly complied, sucking for all she was worth, making her lips such a tight clamp that pain mingled with her arousal. He began to move, thrusting in and out of her mouth to half-staff. “Ah, that’s a sweet thing,” he said from above her, his taut abdomen rippling in pleasure. “You’ve got a hot little mouth, haven’t you? You’re going to squeeze every bit of what I’ve got to give you out of me, aren’t you?”
She began pulsing him faster, aroused by his language. Her fingers moved more avidly in her well-oiled slit, massaging her clit, making it burn all over again—more so, with Chance’s big cock thrusting in and out of her mouth, faster and faster now. He filled her to capacity, and yet he refrained from pushing too far, harming her while she was in such a vulnerable position. He fisted the root of the shaft and began to stroke himself as he thrust into her mouth, using his hand to join in the lusty rhythm she set. As they both grew more excited, his fingers began to bump in an erotic tempo against her straining, overly sensitive lips, his action firing the nerves. She again hummed her approval into his throbbing flesh. Her hand moved more energetically at her pussy.
He suddenly stopped pumping. “Aw, holy mother of . . . fuck . . . Are you playing with yourself, woman?”
Her clenched eyelids opened slowly. His accent was so thick, and her arousal so great, it took her a minute to comprehend what he’d said. He stared down at her, his eyes looking a little wild. In the silence, the only sound that could be heard was that of her fingers moving in her well-lubricated, burning flesh. His already enormous member swelled further in her mouth, making her eyes go wide.
He swung his hips back, his mouth twisted into a snarl. She sucked like mad to keep him, but the bulbous head of his cock slipped out of the vise of her lips.
“I want your pussy,” he said, his mouth set in such a grim line, it was a little intimidating. She panted and watched as he moved behind her.
“Lay down on your side again. I’m going to release your ankle restraints.” His voice sounded tense, but his hands were gentle enough as he helped her down onto the blanket. She did what he asked, her awareness hazed by potent arousal. He knelt at her feet, releasing the knots he’d tied earlier. She lifted her head, admiring what she saw of his sun-gilded, lean torso through his open shirt. She spied a small scar along his ridged abdomen, white on his tanned skin. His cock hung at an angle from his body, the weight of the head pulling it downward, glistening with her saliva. His testicles looked full to bursting.
Instead of splitting her newly liberated legs wide and diving into her pussy—which was what she expected, given what he’d said—he laid down on the blanket and whipped his boxer briefs off his legs. His cock flopped heavily onto his flat belly. He touched her upper arm.
“Come here,” he said with the strained sort of gentleness that drove her crazy. “Straddle me with your ass toward my head.”
She struggled to do what he’d asked, encumbered slightly by her bound wrists. His large hands touching her naked body guided her into how he wanted her.
“Sit on my face, Sherona,” he demanded, his hands grasping her buttocks, his fingers delving into the soft flesh.
Her heart charging like a locomotive, Sherona leaned forward in her kneeling position, bracing her forearms on his pelvis, and lowered her sex to his face. When his wet, hot mouth came into contact with her outer lips, she didn’t just moan, she wailed. When his sleek tongue burrowed between her labia and gave her clit a brisk lashing, a high-pitched keen went through the silent forest.
He used his fingers to peel back her outer lips and torture the swollen berry of her clit. Sherona thrashed in his hold, the pleasure too acute, too overwhelming. He swatted her ass, the sound of skin slapping skin going off like a gunshot in the woods. He paused, kissing her swollen sex lips.
“You’re dripping on my face,” she heard him say thickly, making her hips move restlessly. He spanked her again, and she stilled with effort. She could feel his warm breath striking her tissues and screaming nerve endings. “I think you need something to occupy you while I make a meal of you.” He moved his hand between them and found his cock. He lifted it, making it clear what he wanted.
What he expected.
Sherona shifted, her fingers encircling the rigid, pulsing member. She immediately stuffed him into her mouth, eager to resume her own consumption of his succulent cock. He gave a guttural grunt of satisfaction and returned his hands to her ass. He lifted her slightly off his face, spreading both her ass and pussy wide. She moaned as she slid his cock in and out of her mouth, her lips aching with her efforts.
She could feel his gaze scoring her.
“Prettiest pink pussy,” she thought she heard him mutter before all consciousness splintered. He’d driven his tongue directly into her vagina, curling it, thrusting it in and out, ladling out her juices. He moaned roughly, the sound leaving her in little doubt that he highly approved of her taste. She drove down on his cock, gobbling him greedily, wanting to return the concentrated pleasure he gave her. Their heads both bobbed and strained. It was greedy consumption on both of their parts, lewd, raw . . . unbearably excited. His fingers tightened on her ass in a painful grip. He maneuvered her skillfully up and down on his tongue, and she followed the demanding rhythm with her mouth on his cock.
He pushed her pussy down to his face tightly as he flexed his hips, filling her mouth. Her eyes sprang wide as climax loomed and his cock swelled to what seemed like twice its size. His tongue snaked up between her labia and whipped her clit ruthlessly. He opened his mouth over her outer sex and applied a precise suction. He thrust two fingers into her drenched pussy and continued to lash her clit with his tongue.
His cock stifled her scream.
She felt him spasm between her tightly clamped lips. A growl ripped out of his powerful chest and resonated from his throat, but he continued to eat her avidly. She convulsed in bliss. He held her to him tight, refusing her surcease from the almost overwhelming pleasure. Blinded by her own climax, she barely had the wherewithal to jerk back slightly, preventing him from spurting semen into her throat. Instead, he came on her tongue: strong, abundant, musky emissions filled her mouth, more coming with each spasm of his thick member and grunt tearing from his throat.
Chapter Six
Her explosive climax left her feeling like a wrung-out dishrag. She sagged against Chance’s body, highly aware of his heat and hardness, the sensation of his torso expanding and contracting as he recovered from his own orgasm. Her gasps for air blended with the tempo of his pants, both of them slowing together. An owl hooted soothingly in the woods. Sherona dazedly realized the sun had reached the tops of the trees as it set in the west.
She shivered in pleasure when Chance stroked her from hip to breast along the side of her body.
“Come here,” he said, his voice sounding roughened and sexy.
She swung her knees over his head and rolled on her side, her abdomen muscles temporarily too relaxed in her satiation to lift her to a sitting position. He chuckled at her limp state and rose, beginning to untie the restraint of her wrists.
“Are we all finished taking pictures?” she murmured, feeling a little disappointment. A stab of incredulity followed at her sheer lasciviousness. Chance gave her a warm glance. His small smile really ought to be outlawed for the effect it had on her. He unwound the last bit of rope from her wrists and liberated her.
“The light is going to be bad in five minutes when the sun dips behind the tree line. We can come back tomorrow to finish the photos, if you like. In the meantime . . . ” he said, reaching for her and reclining again on the blanket. Sherona went eagerly into his arms, sighing at the sublime feeling of her bare breasts and belly sliding against his smooth, warm skin. “I suggest you come with me to Rill and Katie’s guesthouse so that we can finish the un-photographed portion of our project.”
She laughed softly against his chest, brushing her lips against his skin. Fragrant male sweat coated her lips. Euphoria swelled in her breast. Ri
sk-taking with a man like Chance Hathoway was an intoxicating experience.
“I’m not going to sleep with you at Katie and Rill’s. They’re my friends,” she said, despite her thoughts.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked as he lazily stroked her hair. “The guesthouse is separate from their house.”
“No. It’d be . . . disrespectful somehow,” she said, feeling a little foolish. Still, it was true. She’d helped Katie pick out some items for the guesthouse and had seen it in various stages of completion. She’d feel ridiculous going in there, uninvited by the Pierces, to sleep with their houseguest. Chance touched her jaw, and she recognized it as a prompt. She looked up at him. His hair was mussed and his eyelids had the heavy look of a sexually satisfied male. He looked delicious. She slid an inch higher along his length, abrading her nipples against his solid body. His eyes darkened in appreciation.
“Are you serious? You’re not going to spend the night with me because you’re worried about imposing on Katie and Rill?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t spend the night with you. You can come to my house, if you like. Derek is gone for a few days.”
Her softly spoken words seemed to cling overly long in the warm, golden light. His nostrils flared slightly as his gaze ran over her face. She couldn’t help wonder what he saw there. “You’ve got yourself a deal, gorgeous,” he muttered before he slid his hand to the back of her head, pushed her to him and kissed her so thoroughly, they almost didn’t vacate the woods before nightfall.
* * *
By the time they entered her small, comfortable bungalow situated at the edge of Vulture’s Canyon and the woods, some of her nervous excitement about spending time with Chance began to mount once again. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe she deserved a sexy fling with a gorgeous man. No, it wasn’t that at all. Lord knows, living in Vulture’s Canyon her entire life, she’d had rare enough opportunities for something so tempting. She wasn’t foolish enough to run when the chance presented itself.
It was just that, sitting next to him in the car as he drove back into town, she’d started to realize just how attractive she found him—and not just sexually, either. He was warm and smart and had been to every corner of the earth and everywhere in between. In many ways, he lived the type of life she’d always fantasized about, knowing all along her dreams would never come true.
He put the car into park and peered curiously out the front windshield at her attractive little bungalow bathed in the evening light.
“It’s a ripper. Pretty and neat as a pin,” he said. “Just like you.”
“Thanks,” Sherona said, her cheeks warming.
She led him inside, glancing around anxiously as she tried to picture what her modest home looked like to his experienced eyes. He hardly seemed judgmental, mostly just interested. He walked around her living room, checking out her photos and studying her book collection..
“There’s one you might find interesting,” Sherona said when she came up behind him with two glasses of iced tea. She handed him a glass and pointed at his photography book. “Derek gave it to me last Christmas.”
“What do you know?” Chance said, grinning. He flipped open the coffee-table book and grimaced at his author photo on the back leaflet. “You’ve had my ugly mug in your house all along.”
Sherona stepped closer and peered over his arm. “It’s a good picture,” she said fairly. She glanced up at him and took a swallow of her tea. “The real thing is nicer, though.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. When things started to get heated, Chance twisted toward her and spilled some of his tea on the book. “Sorry,” he said, wiping up the drops of water with his hand. “How come Derek bought you this book, anyway?” he asked as he finished drying the page and replaced the photography book in her bookcase.
“Oh, I started doing some photography . . . just as a hobby, you know,” she said, feeling the embarrassment most people feel when they admit to attempting an art form in the presence of a master. “Derek knew I was interested in nature photography, and we have so many pretty landscapes around here, he thought I’d like your book. He was right, by the way. Your talent amazes me.”
“Thanks,” he repeated with a warm, natural grace that appealed to her just as much as his careless male sexuality. “What kind of camera do you have?” he asked, sitting down on the sofa situated before her bookcase and fireplace. He nodded with interest when she told him. “Can I see some of the photos you’ve taken?”
Heat rushed into her cheeks. “Oh, no. I don’t think so. I’m such an amateur, Chance.”
“Did you take that one?” Chance asked, pointing at the framed photo of spring flowers in a meadow, in-focus bluebells and goldenrod and daisies in the foreground, the background a blur of wild, vibrant prairie.
“Yes,” Sherona admitted, suddenly wishing she could melt into the sofa and disappear.
“It’s really good. You’re a natural,” Chance said so matter-of-factly that she blinked.
“You’re just saying that.”
He gave her that devilish Aussie grin, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement, and took a sip of his tea. “You mean to get you into bed?”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You already did that.”
“Not really,” he said, reaching out and touching her hand. She turned it over and watched, mesmerized as he stroked her palm with a long finger. “I’ve never been to bed with you, and I haven’t spent anywhere near the time and attention I want to, making love to you. But that’s not the point. Your photograph is good, Sherona. You have a natural understanding of light and perspective.”
“Thanks,” she said, genuinely flattered. She’d entered a sort of dazed trance, watching him stroke her palm, feeling it with every cell in her body. “I think I’ll make you dinner for saying that.”
“Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any better.”
She gave him a knowing glance, but grinned. He was an effortless charmer, to be sure. Still . . . it was nice to allow herself to be charmed for once. Chance was right. A day like today didn’t come around but once in a lifetime.
Chance took a shower while she washed up and whipped together a chicken, wild rice and vegetable casserole. He came strolling out of the bathroom at the same time she was popping it into the oven. He looked more edible than her casserole, still buttoning up his shirt, his damp hair falling on his forehead.
“Something smells great,” he said.
“Well, it’s not me.” Sherona smirked. “I’m going to jump in the shower, too.”
“Okay. I’ll set the table.”
“Are you always this agreeable?” she asked, glancing at him sideways as she left the kitchen. He surprised her by reaching out and grabbing her hand. He pulled her back to him and suddenly she was in his arms, looking up into the amber, brown and green points of color in his eyes.
“I’m making it my mission to be agreeable to you.”
Her eyebrows went up in a wry expression. “Well you’re not doing a bad job, considering what happened in that meadow earlier. I’ve never done anything like that in my life,” she said in an impulsive burst of honesty.
His eyelids narrowed as he studied her. Her pulse began to throb at her throat. “Then I really am the luckiest man around.” She laughed and started to break free of his arms, but he pulled her back against him. His clean, male scent filled her nose. “How come you never think I’m serious?” he asked.
“I don’t want you to be serious. I want you to be honest.”
His expression sobered. She tried to ignore the disappointment that went through her when he dropped his arms, freeing her.
“What if they’re one and the same, Sherona?”
She couldn’t think of how to respond, especially when he seemed so genuine.
“Why did you?” he demanded suddenly.
“Why did I what?”
“Why did you agree to something so risky with a stra
nger?”
She licked at her lower lip nervously. “I don’t know for sure,” she prevaricated.
He stepped toward the counter and leaned his hip against it. “You said you wanted me to be honest. Don’t I deserve the same consideration?”
She glanced away, embarrassed. A few strained, silent seconds passed.
“I’ve been stuck in this forgotten town for my whole life, Chance. I’m not complaining. It’s like you said, it’s beautiful country filled with good, honest people. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t longed for a chance to break away, for something to shake up my life a little bit. I don’t want to grow old and die and know I’ve never stepped off the paved path.”
“That’s what I mean to you? A little rough country? A little risk?”
“A reminder that I’m alive,” she said before she had a chance to censor herself. “That I’m still a vibrant woman, despite the fact that I’ve been stuck in the backwoods for my whole life, and been responsible for another human being since I was eighteen years old, but still haven’t seen my thirtieth birthday. Yeah. Maybe that’s what all this means,” she said. When she realized how raw she’d sounded, she lifted her chin in a subtle defiant gesture. “Given the life you’ve led, that must sound pretty naive and stupid.”
He regarded her soberly. “The last thing it sounds is stupid.”
Again, she looked away, ashamed by her burst of honesty. He stepped away from the counter.
“Plates?” he asked, obviously sensing her vulnerability.
She pointed at a cupboard, wavered on her feet, and turned away.
* * *
“You really are a fantastic cook,” Chance said forty-five minutes later as he enthusiastically made his chicken casserole, salad and homemade seven-grain bread disappear. “You should be the one to publish a book. Nutritious Country Cooking . . . no . . . Bohemian Country Cooking. Get it? All the fresh produce you use from the co-op and hippy ideals blended with old-fashioned recipes,” he said, pausing in his brainstorming to take a huge bite of apple walnut salad. “I’ll do the photography for it, if you’d like.”