by Tawny Taylor
“Oh God.” I hooked my fingers, digging them into his shoulders, and rocked my hips up to grind against his leg. But that pressure and friction was only making things worse. My pussy was burning. I needed it filled. Now. NOW.
“Easy, baby.” He slid one hand under my skirt to cup my wet, hot crotch through my underwear. “Damn, you’re so wet.”
Burning. I was burning up. I shuddered. “I didn’t want to do this,” I mumbled as a brief moment of clarity struck me. But his fingers started moving, stroking my labia, and poof, my thoughts vanished. I was no longer a rational woman. I was a quivering mess of need.
“I missed you. I know I fucked up. I’ve lived with the regret all this time, never thinking, never hoping I might get a second chance.” His fingers hooked around the crotch of my panties and then there was a swift jerk.They tore away, and a delicious breeze chilled my pussy for a split second. But that relief didn’t last long. The wicked, cruel man kissed a path down my body before stopping at the apex of my thighs. With his fingers, he parted me, opening me up.
And with his tongue he conquered me.
I was his.
To kiss.
To lick.
To take.
He brought me to the verge of climax with that terrible, naughty tongue.
But then he stopped, leaving me to teeter on the edge. I wanted to cry.
I lurched upright. “What the hell are you doing?” I tore at his shirt, shoving it up to his shoulders. “What are you doing to me?” I clawed at his smooth, warm skin.
He angled back slightly and stared into my eyes. “I’m giving you a chance to change your mind.”
“Change my mind? Why would I do that?”
“After what happened before…” He shoved his fingers through his hair, messing the adorable waves. “I really fucked up. I know I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I mean that. I really, really fucked up.”
“We were both young then. Immature. But that was then. And this is now.” I unzipped his pants and stuffed my hand down them. His cock fit in my palm just as well as it did all those years ago. And I knew it would fit somewhere else just as well, too. I tightened my hold on his thick erection. “Does this say ‘no’ to you?”
“No, it doesn’t.” He cupped my face and smashed his mouth over mine. This kiss was hungry and demanding. Not sweet. Not gentle. Nothing like the first one. It was a possession. A domination. Fierce. Feral. Unapologetic.
It made my bones melt and my head spin and every nerve in my body zap and buzz.
He pushed me down and climbed on top of me, his hips wedged between my thighs. Oh yes, that felt so good. So right. Trapped beneath him. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. His mouth devoured mine while my body softened, contouring to his. My nipples hardened, poking against his smooth, bare chest.
Now I wasn’t just physically invested in this; I was emotionally invested too. He’d said he was sorry. He’d admitted he’d messed up. He was looking for the chance to make it all up to me. He’d thought about me all this time.
And yes, I’d never have admitted it before now, but I’d thought about him too.
Now, here we were. Years later. Kissing as if those years had never passed. As if we were still those two lonely kids, looking for a connection, for love, to fill the void in their lives.
Maybe Aunt Sandee had known about Clay and me. Maybe she’d planned this all along, knowing we’d be forced to come to terms with our past. Maybe she knew it was worth it, to get a second chance at what we’d failed to find then because we weren’t ready at the time.
I was ready. For love. For commitment. For everything that came with those things.
Wasn’t I?
Yes. Sure.
The thick ridge of his erection grinded against my pussy.
But…but…
The thick head pushed between my labia.
The last time I was on fire for any man it was Clay. Four years ago. And then he’d ripped my heart out and tossed it away.
Oh God, this was happening too fast. Much too fast. What was I doing?
He gave me a chance to say no. He was right. I needed a minute to think. What was I doing?
What the fuck was I doing?
“Wait,” I said, sucking in shallow gasps of air. My heart was thumping fast and hard. My head was spinning. “Please, stop.”
He jerked backward, lifting his upper body with his arms. We stared at each other, both gasping and flushed. Dark need flashed in his eyes and the air crackled with electricity. An invisible force tugged at us, pulling our bodies closer, closer. And once again, a pounding ache throbbed between my legs. Stomach muscles contracted, hips rocked, wet, warm tissues rubbed against narrow hips. And quivers shimmied up my spine.
My head screamed stop.
But my body shouted yes, yes, YES.
One side of his mouth curled up, producing a wicked smile. He caught my wrists in one hand and pinned them over my head.
Ooh! This was different, how he took control. Exciting!
He slid his free hand down my arm. Fingertips tickling, soft touches teasing. They traveled across the top of my chest then down the center, over my racing heart.
I sucked in a breath and held it, waiting, wondering what he would do next…and what I would do next. I could barely believe it. Here I was. Here we were. Together again. Bodies writhing beneath a blanket of stars.
After all this time. And all that heartbreak.
He said he’s sorry. He won’t do it again.
His wandering fingertip followed the curve of my breast, and nerves fired, sending heat pulsing through my body. Still, even as my body surrendered to his touch, warnings echoed through my mind. Struggling with my inner conflict, I writhed, trying to tug my hands free. The man I was with today was much stronger than the teen I’d known four years ago. Strong hands, arms… will.
If I didn’t stop him now, I would lose my chance. There would be no refusing him. Even if I wanted to. He would have me. Tonight. Now.
“Say it,” he whispered in my ear.
His warm breath caressed the sensitive skin on my neck. It dimpled, goose bumps burning my arm and chest.
“Say what?” I asked. What did he want to hear?
What did I want to say? No? Stop? Yes? Please?
Oh God, I was so confused!
His hand glided down the hollow of my stomach and I shuddered.
“Say it,” he repeated, voice sharper. He traced a line down the column of my neck with the tip of his tongue and I shivered. I curled my fingers into tight fists.
“Say what?” I repeated, this time on a whimper. That wicked hand slipped down between my trembling legs, and I sucked in a gasp. I couldn’t breathe. “I…” I mumbled. I gazed up into eyes so dark and dangerous my muscles locked.
Dammit, what do I want?Make up your fucking mind!
His lip curled into a sexy smile. “I tried to resist. This is going to complicate everything. But…dammit…” He fisted my hair, forcing my head to the side.
What the hell was this? Why was he being so rough?
And what did he mean, tried to resist?
I wanted answers. But I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. I shut down. Shock. Need. I was so overwhelmed by both I merely lay there. My scalp burned, but I didn’t cry out. The pain was nothing compared to the agony pounding through the rest of my body.
Pain so, so good.
I opened my mouth. Words sat on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t know what those words were, not until I heard them. “Do it. Take me.”
Did I really just say that?
Releasing my hair, he grabbed my top with both hands. “What did you say?” He yanked it over my head and a gush of juices dampened my labia. He unhooked my bra. “What did you say?”
What had I said? I couldn’t remember. All I knew was this horrible, empty ache inside. I was trembling and desperate. I wanted him inside me, stroking it away. No, I needed him inside me.
“Say it again.” He straddled my hip
s and pushed my bra straps down my arms, freeing my breasts. He pinched both nipples. Sharp blades of pleasure-pain stabbed through my body. “Say it, Morgan.”
“I want...”
“What?”
Yes, what?What do I want?
Oh God. This was all too much. I needed relief. Desperately. But every few seconds a thought would fly through my head and I would second-guess everything. That was happening right now. Right this very second. “I…I don’t know.”
“This?” He rolled my nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, and I sucked in a deep breath.
“Ah, so that was it.” He bent over my aching breasts. A warm tongue lapped at one nipple and the burning in my body amplified. Moving lower, he teased me, tormented me, tongue flicking over the sensitive skin on my trembling stomach. Lower, he traced the waistband of my skirt. My hips rocked forward. My empty channel clenched. Cream gushed.
“Please,” I begged, my body so tight my muscles were cramping. A moan vibrated in my throat.
“You beg so sweetly, baby.” The slough of fabric cut through the tense silence. Oh God, he was taking off his pants.
Did I want him to take off his pants?
He was so fucking beautiful.
The dim moonlight highlighted the curves of his muscles and defined the deep cuts between them. Before I could stop him, he was lifting my hips, the tip of his cock prodding at my empty opening again.
This was it. He was going to do it, to fill me. And he wasn’t wearing a condom.
“Wait!” I said, even as my back arched. If there was one thing I didn’t need, it was a child. Not now.
“If you’re worried about protection, I can’t get you pregnant. Bull riding accident. Years ago. And I regularly see a doctor. All clean.”
I don’t know why, but I believed him. Maybe because I wanted to. I nodded and his cock slammed deep, the head pushing against the opening of my womb. His shaft stretched me almost to the point of pain but not quite. He fit perfectly, big enough to stroke every nerve as he plunged in, and stroke them again on the way out. He fucked me hard, skin striking skin, a loud smack echoing through the night. His fingertips dug into my flesh as he held me in place. Massive waves of heat crashed through my body.
Beneath him, I rocked into his thrusts, welcoming his possession. Never did I want a man to own my body like Clay was now. Inside, an inferno blazed. Lust pounded through my veins. My skin sizzled. Bolts of electricity arced between my nerves. A massive orgasm gathered power, like a ferocious storm. Swirling, spinning, thundering.
Releasing my hip, he raked his fingernails down my thigh. The sting was my undoing. I tumbled into an orgasm so violent it took my breath away. I heard myself scream before I realized I had made a sound. His voice blended with mine. His cock swelled as his cum filled my channel, the increased girth and added lubrication intensifying my pleasure. My pussy convulsed around his cock and I trembled and quaked beneath him until there wasn’t an ounce of strength left in me.
He kissed my forehead and pulled out, and I lay limp but giggling. I was giddy. I was worn out. And I was confused. I’d just had sex with Clay.
Ohmygod.
What now?
What had I done?
What was next?
Chapter 7
The next morning I opened my eyes. I yawned. I stretched. And then I smiled.
Last night had been…quite a surprise. A very pleasant one.
What had started out as a let’s-make-peace dinner turned into let’s-make-love-until-the-freaking-universe-exploded sex. Clay and I had sex. Under the stars. And it had been so romantic…and fun. And…Ohmygod, mind-blowing.
Maybe I’d been a little hasty when I’d said I was done with bad boys yesterday. Maybe there was a reason why so many women chased after the naughty ones, with that glimmer in their eye.
Maybe I’d been wrong, calling Clay a bad boy in the first place. Could it be he wasn’t so bad? I had to admit, because of what had happened years ago, when we were both younger and perhaps a little immature, my image of him had been tainted. I could have made assumptions, jumped to conclusions, believed the worst about him. It was easy to do. He’d been such a jerk when he was younger.
Absolutely. I could have been mistaken, prejudiced.
But that was over. Now I would take him at face value and treat him accordingly. And thus, it appeared this bad boy had grown into a good man. He’d been kind enough to offer me a ride home the day I’d fallen off the bicycle. He’d brought me breakfast the next morning. Were those the actions of a heartless asshole?
Doubtful. Right?
Now, as far as that little problem regarding his employment…well, there was still that. But it could be worked around.
With a smile on my face, I got dressed, making sure I looked extra cute in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I made a quick breakfast—two scrambled egg whites. And then I stomped into my aunt’s shit-kickers (my athletic shoes were toast) and headed out to the barn to start my morning routine…
And ran smack dab into someone.
A woman.
A woman I’ve never seen before.
Thoroughly confused, I jumped back and blurted, “I’m sorry.” But then I realized I was apologizing to a stranger…who was trespassing on my property. Why was she trespassing?
I folded my arms. “Can I help you?”
“My name is Lacy,” said the trespasser. “I’m a friend of Clay’s. I need to speak with him.” It did not escape my attention that the trespasser possessed a banging body and perfect hair. I didn’t like the look of her. Too perfect. Too fake. From the lashes to the fingernails to the tits that stood up too perk-ily.
I told Miss Fake, as I pointed at the road, “You can speak with him on his time, not mine. Now, please get off my property.”
Miss Fake glared and pursed her collagen-enhanced lips. “I know who you are, Morgan Pierce. Now that you own this ranch, you act all high and mighty. But you’ll get knocked off that high horse soon enough, once you learn the truth.” She thrust out one hip as I stood there, stunned into muteness. What the fuck? “You think you’re special but you’re not. You’re no different than the others.” Her glare ice cold, she sauntered up to me. “I know he had plans with you last night. Let me guess. He took you to the hay field behind his house and cooked you dinner on an open fire.”
Holy shit.
“ And then he suggested you lay in the bed of his truck and look at the stars.”
Holy shit!
“And he told you that sad, sad story about when he was a kid and he’d dreamed of someday going to school and becoming an astronaut. And you felt so bad for him that you didn’t stop him when he kissed you.”
That fucker!
I couldn’t speak. I tried.. I opened my mouth, attempting to deny every word. But nothing came out.
It was true.
All of it.
The field.
The dinner.
The story about wanting to be an astronaut.
Miss Fake’s smug smile broadened. “I know every trick. He used them on me. And every girl in this whole fucking town. Don’t let his sad story and charm fool you. He’s a fucking snake. The worst kind. The kind that disguises himself, pretending to be a soft, sweet little rabbit. It’s only once you’re bitten, and you feel the venom pumping through your body, that you know the truth. And then it’s too late.”
My face flamed.
Once again, he played me. And I let him! What kind of fool was I?
I was furious. At him. At myself. And at the woman who’d dropped this bomb in my lap and seemed to be gloating about it.
“Why did you come here?” I snapped, unable to hide my emotions. “Did you really come to speak with him? Or rub my face in shit?”
Miss Fake planted her hands on her hips. “I told you about him because I thought you might want to know. But that wasn’t why I came here. I came to talk to him about the fucking child support he owes me.”
Child support?<
br />
Child. Support!
If someone waved a feather at me, I would have fallen over.
Child. Clay had a child.The guy who’d said he couldn’t get a woman pregnant? He was a father?
Maybe that was before his accident?
“You see?” Miss Fake cocked her head. “I fell for all that bastard’s tricks. Every last one. Including when he said he couldn’t get me pregnant because of some stupid accident.”