Gunner's Flame

by Lynn Burke

  Shelby was special, a tortured soul like me, and I wasn’t enough of a dick to fuck her up even worse than she already was.

  She rubbed her fingertips across my chest, meandering as though thoughtless, but the brush of her touch sent zings of pure lust straight to my dick. The fucker twitched against her leg, and she pressed closer, lifting her knee higher to rest fully against my hard length, the heat of her pussy singeing through the clothing separating us.

  “Shelby…” I croaked her name, fighting like hell to keep my hand on her lower back rather than drift down over her ass and squeeze like I wanted to.

  She lifted onto an elbow and peered down at me in the dark. I could barely make out her face or the river of red hair falling around us. Unable to help myself, I soothed the wavy strands back, my palm resting against her cheek.

  “Make me forget.”

  Her whispered plea rushed heat through me, and even though I’d told myself I wouldn’t be a selfish bastard, I wrapped my hand around her neck and pulled her down.

  All the blood rushed from my head, straight to my dick at the first taste of her soft lips. Gentle and unhurried, I made love to her mouth, licking and nipping, a languid feast I wanted more of. Her quiet whimpers and grasping hands pulling on my T-shirt left me light-headed. Hard as a fucking steel rod.

  I tore myself away and ripped my shirt off overhead, giving her the skin she’d been trying to reach. Back at her mouth, I rolled her, planking on my elbows, my straining dick pressed against the soft heat between her spread thighs.

  Her herbal scent flooded my nose, erasing everything but her -- the need to please her, satisfy, erase everything but my touch from her mind. I tasted my way down her throat with open-mouthed kisses, half-dizzy with the need to bury myself balls-deep inside her.

  I nuzzled her plump tits overtop her shirt while sliding my hands beneath the hem to feel the satiny, warm skin of her stomach. While I had no clue how far she wanted to go, my dick and my head were onboard with whatever the fuck she wanted. I would take the long road to heaven, though, enjoy every moan, every taste of her petal-like skin.

  I pushed her T-shirt up, and she scrambled to yank it off over her head, grabbing hold of my hair and pulling me back to her bared tits the second the shirt fell away.

  So goddamn soft… I held her tits together, licked, laved, and suckled as she squirmed beneath me, her hands ripping at my hair.

  “Gunner,” she whispered my name like a goddamn prayer. I was oozing pre-cum, and I slid down between her legs, tugging on her leggings as I went.

  I took my time peeling them off one foot at a time, my gaze latched onto the trimmed hair between her thighs. Cursing the lack of light allowing me to see the color fully, I slid my hands up her trembling thighs.

  “Tell me what you want, Shelby.” Rasped from pure lust, my voice grumbled louder than I’d wished.

  “I want your mouth on me.”

  “Fuck.” Nothing hotter than a woman who wasn’t timid in stating what she wanted, what she needed -- and I was more than happy to oblige. I lay on the bed, wrapping my arms around her thighs, searching through the dimness to see if she watched.

  Sure as fuck, she’d lifted her head, and I could just make out her facial features to know she’d latched her gaze on me.

  Holding her stare, I licked up through her wet slit, her tangy sweetness hitting me like a rush of adrenaline. “Goddamn,” I groaned after swallowing the taste of her. Another slow stroke coated my tongue with her arousal again. “So fucking delicious.”

  I gave over to my need to eat her out, taste every inch between her thighs, shove my tongue into her pussy, nibble on her clit. Her thighs pressed against my ears, her hands once more in my hair as she pleaded and panted. I kept her cresting time and again, but withheld the release she needed, drawing it out -- making her forget, just like she’d asked for.

  Finally, I offered more, sliding two fingers slowly into her soaked pussy, twisting and rubbing until I found the roughened patch I knew would send her soaring.

  “Oh, God…” She groaned, her voice breaking as I latched my teeth onto her clit. “Oh!”

  Wetness gushed around my stroking fingers as her pussy clamped down, and I nearly came in my goddamn pants as she cried out -- my fucking name.

  Chapter Four

  Shelby

  My body, my mind floated in tingling nothing -- empty in beautiful quietness -- as I sucked oxygen into my starved lungs. Release like I hadn’t ever known relaxed me into my bed, and I let my legs and hands fall from Gunner as he sat back on his haunches, his rough palms sliding up and down the insides of my thighs.

  I didn’t have the energy to reach for him or even open my mouth to thank him. Darkness crept near the edges of my vision, and I closed my eyes on a heavy sigh, allowing sleep to claim me.

  It seemed mere seconds later that I opened my eyes to find daylight peeking around my shades. I stretched, more relaxed, more peaceful than I’d been in years.

  Coffee. My brain made note of the scent on the air before my consciousness did. I blinked, the memories of the day before slamming me fully awake, and I jerked upward, clutching the top sheet to my naked chest.

  No Gunner, I realized, glancing around my bedroom. My leggings, T-shirt, and panties from the night before sat folded on the end of the bed. No trace of the hot man with the most talented fingers and tongue on the planet.

  Warmth kindled between my thighs, but before I could scramble off the bed in search of him, the stairs creaked. Tears should have pricked my eyes knowing it wasn’t my mom climbing them, but my pulse heightened instead.

  Naked torso – tanned, with a bit of hair on his sculpted chest -- snugly-fitting leather pants, barefoot. My gaze slowly traveled upward once more, snagging on the bulge between his powerful-looking thighs.

  “Morning.”

  The huskiness of his low voice turned me on like a flick of a switch, and I swallowed against the sudden dryness of my throat while lifting my focus to his face.

  Rumpled hair, dark shadow on his strong jaw, lips my own tingled to taste again…

  A shiver of pure need pebbled my skin as our gazes connected. He peered at me as though seeing into me, reading every thought, every desire filling my mind.

  A luscious smirk lifted one corner of his lips as he closed the distance between us. “Coffee?”

  “Hmm?”

  He held out his hand, and I forced my eyes to blink and acknowledge what he held out.

  Steaming coffee -- in my favorite mug, even. My heart fluttered. “Thank you.”

  I released one hand from its clutch on the sheet hiding my nakedness from view and accepted the outstretched mug.

  “I wasn’t sure how you took it, but since the sugar bowl sat by the pot and there’s creamer in the fridge…” He shrugged, and I beamed up at him.

  “Perfect.” I sipped, holding his stare. “Mmm. Perfect.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and drank from the other mug. “How’d you sleep?”

  I blinked, trying to remember what nightmares had plagued me after he’d feasted on my pussy -- and couldn’t. “I think I slept really well for a change.” Lightness filled my chest, and I found myself smiling. The man had kept away nightmares -- and made one damn good cup of coffee.

  A keeper, Mom would have said.

  My smile faded, and I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat.

  “Hey.” Gunner set his coffee on my bed stand and crowded in close, careful to not upset my mug. He held my head against his chest, his fingertips rubbing down my spine as they’d done the night before.

  I melted against him, the heat of his hard muscle beneath my face reminding me of his touch during the night, erasing a bit of the grief that clogged my throat.

  “I didn’t dream at all,” he murmured and kissed the top of my head. “Can’t remember the last time I slept that well.”

  “Me, too. Well… after.”

  He kissed my hair again and pulled back enough
to peer into my eyes. I’d expected more condolences about my mom, questions about how I felt, if I wanted to talk about the day before, but he simply let me process, his fingers caressing my hair, brushing against the side of my left breast.

  My nipple tightened as his gaze dropped to the sheet I knew wouldn’t hide the hardened nub.

  Gunner tore his gaze away, clearing his throat and glancing around my room.

  Hand shaking slightly, I sipped my coffee and studied his profile. Strong nose and jaw, all male -- and the warm, musky scent of him -- everything about Mitch Gunner Flannigan turned me the fuck on.

  A shuddered sigh rippled over me. “Thank you,” I whispered again, drawing his focus back on my face.

  He stared into my eyes long enough that I shifted, but I couldn’t have looked away from him if I’d wanted to. Desire and pain without a hint of pity filled his gaze. Longing and need -- and yet he’d been nothing but a gentleman even though the patches on his vest would have made a person think otherwise.

  “Want to stay for breakfast?” I whispered, wanting to keep him close for as long as possible.

  His crooked smirk thrummed my pulse. “Sure.” But he lingered, his gaze dropping to my mouth as I took another sip of my coffee.

  Sexual energy rose between us, lifting the hairs on my arms. His eyes, more black than chocolate-like, remained focused on my mouth, tripling my heartbeat. I wanted him to kiss me like he’d done the night before, as though sipping and enjoying a bottle of expensive whiskey.

  I rubbed my thighs together without thought, and Gunner blinked, his focus moving back to my eyes. “I make one hell of an omelet,” he said on a rush of breath.

  “Okay.” I swallowed as he stood and adjusted the hard length pushing against his leathers. God… I swallowed again, wishing like hell he’d have used that instead of his fingers on me the night before.

  “Keep looking at me like that, sweet thing, and I’ll keep you tied up in this bedroom all damn day.”

  I bit back my moan, my attention jerking up to his face.

  No hint of teasing lit his eyes as he stared down at me.

  Visions of being tied down, at his mercy, sent a rush of wetness between my thighs. I attempted to lick the dryness from my lips, voice my need for him -- hell, beg him to call me sweet thing again while sinking deep into my throbbing pussy.

  My stomach growled, breaking the sexual tension hushing my bedroom and pebbling my skin.

  Gunner smirked and turned away, his sure strides taking him from my view, and I slumped back against my headboard with a heavy exhale.

  “You should be grieving right now, not lusting,” I muttered to myself, but my emotions weren’t on board. I’d gotten a taste -- or he had, rather -- and it hadn’t been nearly enough to sate my lust for him.

  An empathetic gentleman, hot as hell with the body and cock of a god, and he could make coffee like no other…more than a keeper.

  Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I pulled myself out of bed with a groan. The sight of his black T-shirt at my feet had me reaching down without a second thought. I held it bunched to my nose and set my coffee mug down without looking as his musky scent swarmed over me.

  Oh, yes. Smiling, I pulled his T-shirt over me -- and didn’t bother putting on anything else.

  My knees knocked as I slipped down the stairs, hair hanging loose. Even though I hadn’t yet finished my coffee, I’d brushed my teeth -- just in case.

  Gunner had his back to me as I walked into the kitchen, and his breath caught as he glanced over his shoulder, his gaze falling to my thighs where the hem of his shirt caressed. “Damn, woman,” he grumbled, the need in his tone making my pussy pulse. “You look good in my shirt.”

  “You look good without one.”

  He turned fully from the stove, spatula in hand, his focus still on my thighs. “Are you wearing anything under that?”

  I bit back my smirk and shook my head.

  Another groan rumbled deeply in his chest. “Sit before I decide I’d rather eat your pussy than a goddamn omelet.”

  I wouldn’t have minded waiting for food, but he spun on his heel, a few more muttered curses leaving his lips.

  Smiling with genuine happiness for the first time in a long while, I settled onto a chair, cooling coffee mug between my hands. Muscles rippled over his back as he moved, seemingly completely at ease in my kitchen.

  “Do you enjoy cooking?” I asked, my focus on how well his leathers hugged his ass.

  “I don’t mind it. Been alone most of my adult life, and since I like more than burgers from the club’s kitchen, I decided I’d better learn a thing or two.”

  A light huff of laughter escaped me. “Cooking classes?”

  “Food Network.”

  He turned, plates with omelets and toast with butter in hand. His eyes twinkled as he smirked. “Hope you don’t mind I made myself at home.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I eyed the cheese oozing from the golden eggs, my mouth salivating. “I love a man who can cook.” My face heated as the words spewed out, and I focused on the plate in front of me rather than lift my head to see how he’d taken my confession.

  “More coffee?”

  “Please.” He poured, filling both our mugs, before sitting.

  “Dig in, sweet thing.”

  I warmed through at his nickname -- endearment, perhaps, but the first bite of omelet passed my lips, and I moaned, my eyelids sliding shut while realizing I hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before.

  “Mmm.” I chewed slowly, wondering how the hell he’d made mere eggs and American cheese taste so damn good. I swallowed and licked my lips, opening my eyes to find him staring at my mouth again. “Tastes great,” I whispered.

  The sexual tension rose like flickering flames, licking at my core, and I bit the inside of my lip.

  Gunner cleared his throat. “Eat.”

  I obeyed the command, but the clinking of flatware on the plates didn’t lessen the arousal flooding through me, nor did it lessen the zinging energy between us. He finished first and sat back, hands on his thighs.

  “Tell me about your mom.”

  Not the words I’d expected, but my heart warmed. What man in his position wouldn’t take advantage of the pull between us? What man would ignore his T-shirt doing nothing to hide a woman’s pebbled nipples?

  Tears pricked my eyelids, and not from grief or thoughts of rejection. “You’re a good man, Gunner.”

  He snorted. “Hardly.”

  “You’re empathetic, kind. Unselfish.” I pushed my empty plate away and reached for my coffee mug.

  “You don’t know me very well.”

  “Your actions since yesterday afternoon speaks volumes, Mitch Flannigan. You’re a good man whether you think so or not.”

  His crooked smirk appeared. “And what makes you think I’m not just trying to get between your thighs again?”

  “Because you know you can without saying a single word.”

  One of his eyebrows lifted, his eyes darkening. “Are you going to tell me more about your mom?”

  I took one last sip of my coffee before setting it aside, pushed back my chair, and rounded the table to straddle his lap. “Later.”

  He tipped his head to the side as he settled his hands on my waist beneath his shirt. His tongue flicked out to lick his lower lip, making my pussy pulse again. “Tell me what you want, Shelby.”

  God, the rasp of his voice… his rumbling tone. “I want your hands on me. Your mouth.” I leaned down and kissed him, our tongues sliding together, mimicking what I really wanted.

  Gunner groaned into my mouth, his fingertips digging into my skin as I worked a hand between us to squeeze the hard length of him through his leathers.

  “Fuck.” He thrust up into my hand and wrapped my hair in his hand, yanking me closer.

  Forget soft kisses and gentle glides of tongues. He took control from me, tugging my hair enough to sting while tipping my head to the side, his hot mouth trailing down over my ne
ck.

  “You smell so fucking good.” He palmed one breast, rolling my hard nipple between his fingers. “Need to see you, sweet thing.” His rasped words fueled my need to fuck, but I wasn’t about to deny him what he wanted.

  I pulled back, yanking his shirt off.

  “Goddamn.” His gaze slid down over my breasts to the patch of red hair between my spread thighs. He widened his, spreading me open farther. “Fire red.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “So fucking gorgeous.”

  I worked to free his straining cock as he ran his thumbs up the insides of my thighs, a whimper passing my lips as he teased alongside my folds.

  His cock sprang free, and I swallowed the onslaught of saliva. Long and thick, veined and oozing pre-cum… I’d never seen such a gorgeous cock.

  “Tell me you have a condom,” I whispered, closing my hand over the head and stroking downward.

  “Fuck.” His thumbs stilled, holding my lower lips open as his head tipped back, jaw clenched.

  I jerked him slowly, smearing pre-cum with every stroke up and over his mushroom head.

  “Goddamn, woman.” He groaned and thrust up into my downward stroke.

  “Condom, Gunner,” I repeated, needing him so badly my entire body shook.

  “Y -- Yeah.” He stood, lifting me into his arms, and sat me on the counter’s edge while fishing in his back pocket.

  “Let me.” I took the foil packet from his hand, and he shoved his leathers down and kicked them off while I tore it open.

  “I’ve never had someone so big,” I whispered, rolling the rubber down over his cock.

  “I’ll go slow.” His voice sounded strangled, and I lifted my attention to find his piercing gaze on my face. “You need time or want me to stop, just say so.”

  Hand gripping the base of his length, I slid closer, my ass on the edge of the counter, and wrapped my legs around his waist. “Take me,” I whispered against his lips, notching the head of his cock against my pussy.

  He groaned and pushed in, capturing my lips.

  The stretch -- the slight burn of having gone so damn long without a man, was exquisite. The glide of his thickness against my inner walls caught my breath, lightened my head, and a rush of arousal swept over me, easing his entry even more as he pulled out and pressed back in, gaining ground.