Something in the Water...

by Jule McBride

  “My ex talked a lot about clothes and hairdos,” he said on a soft pant.

  “Why don’t you and I talk about something else?”

  “This?” he suggested, rolling the pad of a finger over the bud of her clitoris once more. She cried out now, arching. Even as she ground her hips against him, she realized the movement had taken her away from, not closer to his touch, so she corrected, now seeking the hand that came from behind by lifting her backside and wordlessly guiding him.

  Not that he gave her full satisfaction, even now.

  “Some conversation,” she muttered as frustration claimed her. Every new wave of heat brought no relief. Finally, her eyes slammed shut, and she uttered a senseless protest as he plunged his finger, coating it, using the heat of her own body to tantalize her.

  Somehow, that didn’t seem fair at all. It was as if her own body were working against her. With every blissful stroke, he was only engendering new itches. Opening her eyes, she reached for his lips, pushed a thumb inside. His mouth closed tightly then, and he drew hard, sending a jolt of pure molten pleasure through her.

  Suddenly, it was too much to take. With any other stranger, she might have felt embarrassed, or at least uncomfortably exposed, but with him, she felt only surges of burning passion clamoring to be squelched. She was climbing….

  Their eyes met.

  He was loving every minute of it, too.

  Damn him, she thought, her mind hazing. She was dripping for him now, and his hardening length was still begging for attention, trapped by the softness of her thigh. “C’mon,” she whispered huskily, knowing that, right now, he really could read her mind. He knew she wanted more. Need was twisting inside her, more demanding as the magic of his fingers quickened.

  But he wasn’t going to quit teasing. “Dumb blonde,” he whispered devilishly, as she withdrew her thumb.

  She lifted a lock of his hair. “Natural?”

  “Who cares? The main thing is that blondes have more fun.”

  “I’m blond, too,” she reminded him, suddenly giving up on what they were doing and simply rolling on top, straddling him.

  She gasped as he grabbed her wrists just as quickly, swiftly wrenching his powerful upper body, bringing her beneath him, sandwiching her between him and the mattress. Her head sank into the pillow, landing exactly where his had been. His entire weight covered her, so warm and delicious, and as he stretched her arms wide, everything inside her started trembling. Her legs were trapped. Parted. His lay on top, and because he held her arms so wide apart, she felt dangerously open to him.

  His palms flattened on hers; the sheet felt as cold as ice on the backs of her hands, by comparison. Curling his fingers, he twined them with hers and squeezed. Then his mouth descended, greedy and wet, deeper and more molten as his chest settled more heavily on hers, crushing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest. Her arms strained to circle his neck, but they were held captive beneath hands that gripped her like steel. All her breath was in the kiss, and she was at his mercy because everything inside her needed him.

  Not that he’d ever soothe the sensations he’d built. Maybe he’d only kiss her, his tongue driving into the farthest recesses of her mouth like this, until she hung like a star in the sky, begging to burn and fall….

  Yes, a falling star, she thought. She was bursting, shooting in a ball of fire through the night. She tried to lift her hands—desperate for them to be in his hair now, or roving over his back, or raking across his buttocks, or dragging along the backs of his thighs or fisting around his erection….

  Anywhere but here, imprisoned beneath him. But there was no movement, just his searing, relentless tongue probing hers. And when he finally broke the kiss, she released a high whine against his mouth, a strange sound that seemed to come from outside herself.

  His answer was a shaky breath as he brought his cheek to hers. Everything seemed so quiet. Only their quickened breaths sounded in the dark silence.

  This was so intimate. Too intimate. Not just about sex, after all, she thought as her pulse raced. Maybe nothing could be about sex, alone…just sex, pure and simple. She realized that now. She’d been crazy to think she could share this deeply, really believe it didn’t matter, and then walk away.

  But she would, of course. In the morning. Right now, all she knew was that she’d never experienced so much excitement, nor emotion. She didn’t understand it, either. They’d done nothing people associated with wild sex, after all. There had been no toys. No exotic poses she’d seen in magazines and movies, nor aphrodisiacs, unless there really was a bug in the water.

  This was just good old down-home lovemaking, really. At least, so far. And in truth, he’d only been inside her once. And yet, she felt they’d shared so much more. They were…

  Lovers now. His breath was fluttering on her neck, and she wanted that rough stubble elsewhere, dragging burns over every inch of her pale, sensitive skin. Instead, his hands loosened in hers, trailed to her wrists, then fisted around them. She knew he could feel her pulse pounding against his palms, but he didn’t let go, only tightened his grip possessively.

  “Let me up,” she whispered shakily.

  He murmured in her ear, “Never.” And then damp sensation swirled through her, since his tongue followed where his voice had been—nibbling her earlobe, then plunging inside. God, she ached. Truly, he was burning against her belly and she needed him lower…inside….

  “For a condom,” she whispered.

  His hands loosened their hold. “I’ll get one.”

  “I’ll go.”

  Right before he rolled away, his mouth found hers again. She let him kiss her, too. For a good long while.

  Let him kiss her.

  She didn’t kiss back, but only submitted. And then his heat and weight were gone. Completely dazed, she rose, feeling like an amnesiac awakening from a dream. What on earth was the man doing to her?

  …The condom. She remembered that was the whole point of her getting up. As she went over to the dresser, she felt his eyes following her through the darkness. A lump lodged in her throat. The way he’d crushed her against the mattress had really made her feel totally…

  At his mercy?

  And it had been so sexy. Simple, but even more arousing than bathing together. She’d been with men, had orgasms with them. But she’d never felt this kind of power. And she wanted…

  To possess him, too. Maybe even to torture him. Just a little. To make him plead for what he wanted. Yes, she wanted to see Rex Houston come apart at the seams, until he was shattering and writhing, totally dependent on her for a release he was sure would never come. Maybe she’d keep him where he’d kept her most of the night—suspended in space, reaching and reaching, but never…

  As she lifted a foil packet, she was seized by the idea that she wanted to tie him up. Finding scarves only took a minute. She used to wear them all the time. And when she returned to bed from her room, she was greeted by a husky chuckle. “What do you think you’re…”

  She didn’t give him a chance to finish. Already, she’d caught a wrist and bound it to a bedpost. Circling the mattress, she lifted his other hand, kissed it, then quickly twirled silk around it. Somehow, she was surprised he let her do it. Especially when she didn’t stop at his hands, but secured his ankles as well. Her knots were tight, too. From living beside the spring all her life, she’d learned about boats, and when a woman knew about boats, she also knew about boating knots.

  “I’m getting ready to torture you,” she whispered now.

  He was breathing hard, and his gaze had turned sharp and assessing, following her every movement. His fingers suddenly fisted and his darkly tanned arms strained, delineating muscles and making veins pop as he tested the bonds. Only now realizing that she’d been in earnest, a protesting sound came from between his lips.

  Not that he meant it. “Well, come on then,” he muttered thickly, daring her.

  She had to chuckle at that. After all, she, not he, had t
he upper hand. “Torture,” she whispered again, speaking each syllable succinctly. “That means that we don’t do what you want, Rex.”

  His head was tilted back taking in the one remaining scarf in her hand. It was long, narrow and very bright red. “Really?” he said.

  She nodded. “Really.”

  “What do we do then, Ariel?”

  “Whatever Ariel wants.”

  He was thoroughly excited. His hips, straining. He could barely move, but he tried, and his legs spread just a fraction wider. His chin raised another notch, and his head moved from side to side on the pillow.

  Standing at the foot of the bed, she looped the scarf around her neck and touched her breasts, lifting them for his eyes, gently squeezing, until his sudden intake of breath made her consider letting him watch her bring herself to climax. And why not? She could do absolutely anything…anything at all with this man tonight.

  But she wanted to touch him. Capturing his feet in her hands, she massaged slowly and deeply, cupping her fingers tightly around the insteps, rubbing thumbs into the hollows, crunching fingers around his toes—all of which seemed to have an incredible effect on the man, but not nearly so much as when she leaned and drew a big toe between her lips and nibbled.

  Sex charged the air then. Her hands rose, burning on his calves, her tongue languorously eating up every inch of him. Loose, ropelike circles of kisses looped, climbing his sensitized flesh, drawing guttural cries. Unbroken, the liquid trail hit his inner thighs, and his arms jerked, pulling the bonds taut, stretching them to breaking. His hips lifted then, as if in hopeless supplication…begging.

  She was stunned by the tight muscles of his thighs as she slaked her thirst on the flesh there. Her hands molded his waist, her tongue bathing his lower belly, but circumventing where he most ached, toying instead with his navel, plundering wetly, then blowing the spot.

  “Ariel,” he muttered harshly. “C’mon. That’s enough.”

  She didn’t want to do anything nonconsensual, of course. But when she glanced up into those glazed eyes, it didn’t look like enough to her. No, she decided, not nearly enough. “In just a minute,” she assured.

  “Dammit,” he whispered hoarsely, his arms yanking, the scarves threatening to snap, even as his movements tightened her knots.

  “What would you do to me if I let you loose?”

  He was too frustrated to answer. But his eyes said he’d be on her like a wild animal. So, she supposed she could at least touch him there, just once. “Here,” she whispered, trailing a silk end of the remaining scarf over his legs.

  At the softness of the touch, she thought he’d come undone. He went into spasms, his hips twisting as she masterfully twirled the watery fabric around his aroused length. Ever so slowly, she wrapped him like a present.

  “Let me go,” he whispered.

  “Should we tie a bow?” she asked innocently.

  She tugged the scarf’s ends, as if to tie another knot, but only so he felt the pressure. “All right,” she whispered back, only pretending to understand. “I’ll let you go.” But she only removed the scarf. Leaning, she blew air kisses on his skin, until her mouth suddenly lowered, searing the flesh of his belly, then slowly working more magic from his navel up…up…

  Gasping, he jerked his arms harder. This time, one broke free and he caught her upper arm with his hand. Fingers sank into her flesh as he hauled her on top of himself. His lips covered hers completely, his tongue seemingly mad for hers as he wrenched away from the one bond from which he’d managed to free himself.

  He was rolling toward her, wanting her beneath him, but she, herself, was about to shatter. Rustling hands over the covers, she fumbled for the condom, now lost somewhere in the sheets. Dammit, she had to find it. Relief flooded her when she did. More, when she slit the packet and studied the contents for a moment. She’d never done this before, but instinct took over and she smoothed the latex over him, then rolled it downward.

  Just touching him there sent him reeling. She could tell he was about to explode. So was she. She’d been so lost, concentrating on teasing him, that she hadn’t even realized she was so far gone!

  As she straddled him, everything else vanished. She needed him now. And she wasted no time, but sank onto him, moving fast, as his freed arm wrapped tightly around her back, clutching her to his chest. Gasping, she felt long-awaited relief claiming her. He was so hard, like steel. And so unbelievably hot. He split her, opening her completely, burning. Each inch promised the release she’d craved. It would come now; it had to.

  He was an ocean, the pleasure endless, and she was lost to his currents. She rode them, then plunged, her hips shaking, thrusting. The world no longer existed. This wasn’t the house in which she’d grown up. Not the town she both loved and hated. There was no missing recipe book of mysterious teas that could kill a man, or make him love you, no more than she was to film a Harvest Festival. She had no job to do in a town called Bliss, and she’d never needed to prove herself to anyone.

  Certainly, not to Rex Houston. She was wrapped so tightly in his arms that she didn’t know where she ended and he began…could only ride the waves, swept by the currents.

  Suddenly, the dam burst; the wall crashed down. The crest was overwhelming. She didn’t even know this man, but tears welled in her eyes as she crumbled, the spasms shaking more than just her body. He’d reached something raw. So deep she’d never even known it was there….

  A moment passed before she realized he’d come, too. And as he had, he’d broken his bonds. All but one of his feet had come free. A leg circled her, and like his arms, it drew her closer. They were still breathing hard, their bodies drenched with heat and sweat. “Ariel,” he muttered simply, his voice hoarse with emotion. “C’mere.”

  Already, she was as close as she could get, but her arms clung more tightly around his neck; his arms wrapped around her back, and they shuddered together in the embrace. Her face buried in his neck, and one of his hands rose, cradling her head gently.

  Her last thought was that nothing could ruin such bountiful perfection.

  10

  “You bitch.”

  Startled, Ariel blinked, her eyes fluttering open. Had someone just called her a bitch? Her first thought was of Rex, but she realized he was beneath her, fast asleep. She was sprawled on top of him and he was starting to stir now….

  It wouldn’t be one of her relatives. She’d never heard them curse. As she rolled away from him, she realized the room was freezing. The air conditioner had run all night. Because they’d been making love, she and Rex hadn’t noticed the artic chill. Which was why they’d covered up in a duvet and a blanket.

  She glanced toward his face, registering that it was covered by a pillow, just as somebody grasped the covers and yanked, sweeping them away. The room was freezing! Chill bumps rose on her skin and she gasped when a female voice shrieked, “Get up, you son of a bitch!”

  “Joanie?” she managed to say. Why was Joanie Underwood here? She looked fit to kill, too. Everything about her was cut out in sharp angles. She was wearing a boxy Chinese-style jacket over jeans and her black hair hung to her shoulders in a razor-cut bob.

  “Get up, Howard,” she commanded.

  Joanie Underwood was the only person in Bliss who called Studs by his real name. Under other circumstances, hearing her do so would have been funny, since Studs really had grown up to look more like a Howard than a Studs, after all. As it was, though, Ariel could only stare. “Joanie,” she said simply, in protest.

  Rex was pushing the pillow away, struggling to sit, but he’d just discovered one ankle was still tied to the bedpost. One look at the bed left little to the imagination. Judging from the murderous trek of her gaze, Joanie had become a lot less interested in whatever man she’d uncovered than in the trail of clothes on the floor and the silk scarves littering the bed. Even the fitted sheet had come untucked, its elastic underside now visible atop a corner of the mattress. Ariel scrambled, grabbing a handful o
f the bedspread and pulling it toward her chest. By the time she’d wrapped it around herself and tossed a sheet toward Rex, Joanie’s gaze had returned to them.

  “Who are you?” she demanded of Rex, clearly surprised to find a man other than her husband in bed with Ariel.

  Rex’s voice was thick with sex and sleep. “I could ask the same of you, lady.”

  “And to think I thought you might have changed,” Joanie said, staring at Ariel. “I even waved at you as I was leaving the hardware store!” She looked at Rex. “You must be one of her out-of-town friends.”

  What right did Joanie have to barge in like this, much less to ask who Rex was? It didn’t help that the door between the rooms was open—Ariel had made a trip there in the night to get the scarves. And since her closet door was open, Joanie was getting a view of the wild outfits strewn about.

  “How did you get in here?” Ariel snapped.

  “The door,” Joanie retorted.

  Hadn’t she locked it? Or, no…that’s right. Ariel had locked her own, but only shut Rex’s. She’d been so excited, watching him head for the bathroom, that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. Damn. How could any of this be happening? Yesterday, she’d been so focused on what she needed to do here. Now, her plans were ruined. Joanie would tell everyone in town she’d come here looking for Studs and found Ariel in bed with Rex, whom others would identify, soon enough, as being from the CDC.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?” Ariel ground out, deciding Joanie hadn’t changed a bit from the years she and her cheerleader girlfriends had shut Ariel out. If the truth be told, they’d done so long before Studs had ever started messing with her. Ariel had never known why, except that she’d had to carry the legacy of her husband-less relatives, not to mention Matilda.

  Rex had covered his lap and he was reaching toward the foot of the bed, trying to unknot his ankle. He looked luscious, too, and she suddenly hated him for it. If he hadn’t been so good-looking, she’d never have given in to temptation, wound up in bed with him, nor been confronted by Joanie this morning. She’d have been found alone in bed, and Joanie would have had no new gossip to spread around Bliss. Even worse, this time the gossip was true. Ariel really had picked up a stranger.