The Party Girl

by Tamara Morgan

  There was something about this man’s tongue that made her feel weak in not just the knees, but every joint she possessed. She suspected it was the careful, methodical movements of the kiss—the slowly grazing tongue filling her, the insistently deep melding of mouths that she couldn’t have refused even if she wanted to. Noah was a man who moved at his own pace, set his own rules—he tamed nature with his painstaking ways. He intended to tame her nature with his painstaking ways.

  As he slipped his hands over the softness of Kendra’s stomach and felt her ass press against him, Noah realized that everything about her was calibrated to drive a man over the edge, to render him useless for any other sexual encounters. Everywhere he touched was a curve, downy soft and pliable under his fingers. She smelled of lemony perfume and the intoxicating scent of woman. And the sounds of pleasure never seemed to stop leaving her mouth.

  Kendra would be a hard woman for any man to forget. Not just because she pleaded with him to lift her to the table and fuck her hard and fast, but because everything about her made all the moments before and after a true delight.

  “I’m begging you, Noah,” she rasped, bucking against his hand as he slipped a finger along the slick, plump folds of her cunt. “If you don’t have your wicked way with me in the next minute or so, I refuse to be responsible for my actions.”

  “Well, now I’m curious.” Even though his dick had firmed up considerably at having this woman—naked—pressed entirely against him, he was still relaxed enough from the blowjob to pace himself. “What would happen?”

  She dropped a hand to his and pushed his finger inside her. Tight and hot, her body didn’t resist his entry in the slightest. She moved against his hand, her body shuddering. “This. I’m not ashamed to take what I want. I will grind against this hand until I scream if that’s what it’s going to take.”

  He pretended to consider her request and slid another finger inside. The shock of it made her jump, and he laughed. “Better?”

  She ground her ass against him. “It’s getting there. Oh, God, your hands are so big. Do you think you can fit one more finger in?”

  Oh, he’d fit the whole damn hand if she wanted him to. But not this time. Instead he withdrew and turned her around, bringing them face to face. After a slow, deep kiss that left them both shaky, he admitted the first real lack he’d felt in his quest for a simpler life. “I don’t have any condoms.”

  She laughed and slid from the table, not the slightest bit modest as she sauntered through his well-lit house naked. There was no reason to be, of course. Her body’s curvature was a thing of untold beauty.

  He enjoyed the view as she leaned over and reached into an oversized bag covered in silver sparkles, his attention only diverted when she extracted a long chain of condoms—far more than two people could use in a whole week.

  “Don’t you worry your bearded little head over it. I came prepared.”

  He couldn’t help a smile from lifting a corner of his mouth. “What if I’d turned you down?”

  “I’d have made water balloons. A lot of them.”

  “Hmm. We still can.”

  She stalked across the room, breasts jiggling in determination. “Don’t you dare. We’re not wasting a single one of them.” As if to prove her point, she ripped one open and reached for him. He didn’t complain as she tugged him by the balls to draw him forward. Didn’t do more than murmur when her palm ran hot and flat over the length of him. Barely even whimpered when her nails grazed the sensitive flesh at the tip.

  But as soon as the condom was secure, he grabbed her around the waist and placed her on the table. She squealed as he laid her down over the wood and opened her legs, his fingers gripping hard at the impossibly smooth skin of her inner thighs. He could spend hours there, tracing her flesh, nuzzling his beard in all her soft, secret places—but she was so wet for him, her thighs slick with moisture, that any more delay seemed needlessly cruel.

  “I’ve become so used to equating you and sexy feelings with women’s literature, I feel like I should quote some Mary Wollstonecraft or something.” Kendra’s eyes closed as he ran his hands one more time over the planes of her body. This was what his hands were meant to do. This was what hours of toil worshipping the grains of oak had prepared him for.

  “Could you quote Mary Wollstonecraft right now?” Pulling her roughly to the edge of the table, he spread her wide and hefted the weight of his own dick, preparing to enter her.

  “Touch that beard to my nipples, and I’ll probably start speaking in tongues. I’m not writing anything off.”

  With a chuckle, he obliged. He pushed into her body at the same time he leaned down to graze her breasts, the tips of her nipples peaked into twin points of interest. It was hard to tell where his attention wandered most over the ensuing seconds—the deep pull of those nipples into his waiting mouth, or the explosion of sensation where her body sheathed his.

  Neither, he realized an instant later. Both of them. All of it.

  Taking Kendra over the table was an action he would never tire of. Her mewling cries as he gripped her ass in his hands and lifted, angling her for deep, penetrating thrusts, seemed calculated to make him feel all man. The shifting, undulating waves of sensation that flowed wherever they touched shook his control.

  He strove for a little of that control now, slowing himself down, forcing himself to breathe deep.

  “Don’t you dare stop,” Kendra warned. She performed some sort of magic trick with her vagina, clenching and squeezing and tugging at him even though he’d all but stilled the movements of his own body. She tipped her head back and moaned. “I was just getting to the good part.”

  He took a moment to enjoy the elegant slope of her neck, kissing a trail to her earlobe, dizzy from the scent of her. A pair of hands gripped either side of his face and held him back, her gaze steady where it met his.

  “I mean it, Noah. Fuck me like your life depends on it.”

  He chuckled. A world where his existence hinged on having this woman writhe underneath him was a world he’d happily inhabit. “Is that a threat?”

  “It can be. Depends on how far you’re willing to push your luck.” She gripped his hair and tugged, bringing their lips together and forcing her way in. Her kiss was dizzying, her tongue rough where it rubbed against his.

  As intriguing as the idea of punishment at her hands was, he gave up the fight. Gripping her thighs fiercely, he thrust sharply, enjoying her cry at the shock of their bodies meeting. Pulling out slowly, he thrust again, harder this time. He had to hold her firm to keep from sending her over the edge of the table—and taking himself with her.

  She screamed and her fingernails dug into his upper arms. He thought for a moment that he’d hurt her, that he’d underestimated his strength or her ability to take the force of him, but her fingers tightened again, urging him to continue.

  Kendra was a screamer. Holy fuck. She was a screamer and he was inside her and there was nothing stopping him from enjoying both these things for as long as he wanted.

  It ended up not being very long. He grunted as he plunged into her again and again, her hands twisting in his hair and her body squirming under his. Her skin grew slick with their combined sweat, rendering her even more soft and smooth where his hands landed—and they landed everywhere, over breasts and hips and thighs, not stopping until he reached her center and pressed a thumb firmly against her clit. With a quick twitch of his finger, he wrenched another scream from her, this one accompanied by the shudder of her body as an orgasm rocked through her.

  His own grunt of release was lost to the sounds of her pleasure, his satisfaction secondary to hers.

  He wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  “Well, shit,” she said, echoing her earlier sentiments.

  “Well, shit indeed.”

  They shared a smile all the
more intimate for the fact that he remained inside her, still semi-hard, unable to withdraw. “You sure did pack a lot more condoms,” he noted casually. He ran his hand up between their bodies, not stopping until he had her face gently cupped, rubbing a soothing pattern along her jawline.

  “And you have enough survival skills to keep us going long past the apocalypse,” she returned, equally calm.

  God, what a tempting idea. The two of them, isolated from the world, nothing but a lifetime of sex and laughter stretched before them. It was his version of paradise, but he doubted very much it was hers. Kendra had a life outside of this place—she was a life outside this place.

  Still, he wasted no time in cleaning himself up and getting back to her side, where he proceeded to reach down and scoop her up, completely naked and—for the moment—wholly his. Ignoring her cries of protest, he carried her through the back bedroom and tossed her to the tree-root bed.

  “How very barbaric of you.” She crawled under the handmade quilt, leaving ample space for him to curl up next to her. “Anything else you want to do to prove your manly might before we go to sleep?”

  He climbed into bed next to her, his hands rough as he pulled her hips flush against his own. “Lots of things,” he confessed, his head buried in her neck. Exhaustion, unfortunately, had other plans for him. “But I’ll start by making you eggs in the morning.”

  “I don’t eat eggs.”

  “Then I’ll make you vegetables. All the vegetables.”

  She squealed as one of his hands spanned her waist and he held her close. “Will you hoe them from your own garden first?”

  “Go to sleep, Kendra.” He yawned and firmed his grip, unwilling to let her go. His bed. His woman. At least for the night. “And I promise we’ll spend all day tomorrow hoeing.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Noah slept exactly like a bear in hibernation. Kendra awoke to find his body—hot, heavy and naked—sprawled over most of the bed. He slept without stirring, even when she trailed a hand along the flat surface of his stomach, her fingers running a pattern along the veins that led, prominent and promising, to a friendly piece of morning wood.

  Ah, men. They had no idea how good they had it. She could definitely see the appeal in waking up to that kind of timber every morning.

  Unwilling to let the opportunity go to waste, she curled herself more firmly against him and reached around to his cock, trailing the silky length through her fingers. Still sound asleep and likely to roll over and kill her with his weight, he nevertheless stayed in place against her ministrations, even going so far as to gently thrust into her hand. He grunted too. It was the most adorable sleeping-bear-man reaction ever.

  His body was hot where it pressed against hers, and she enjoyed the heady sensation of the friction of her bare breasts meeting the hard musculature of his back. There was plenty of friction between her hand and his cock, too, and she paused only to apply a liberal amount of saliva to her palm to keep things going smoothly.

  She loved the act of pumping a man off like this, her arms stretched around his midsection as if he were an extension of her own body. She felt every twitch of his thick protrusion throb in her own clit, moaned softly in his ear when he did. In almost no time at all, she felt a lurching tension move through him and had to hold his hips back as he came, for fear he was going to roll them both over the edge of the bed.

  Not that she’d have minded the fall. Noah seemed like he’d make a lovely place to land.

  He didn’t move right away afterward, both of them gloriously sticky and not the least bit worried about it. “You awake?” she asked, dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

  “I am now.” His voice was groggy. Pleased, but groggy.

  “Lazybones. I figured you’d be up at the crack of dawn. Berries and twigs to attend to and all that.”

  “I was.”

  “What?” She struggled to get up on one elbow. “Your berries and twigs didn’t seem very attended to. Not with a spurt like that one.”

  Noah chuckled softly and wiped himself off with the sheet before turning to face Kendra, burrowing his face in her chest and nestling there, content to root among the nipples and skin. “Kendra, it’s probably eleven o’clock by now. I was up at four to fish. I had breakfast. Watched the sun rise. Milked Goat. Walked a few miles. Then I took a shower and slipped back into bed for a nap.”

  She shoved him on the chest and laughed. “Pervert. I thought that was your alarm cock or something. You were just lying there imagining all the dirty things you wanted to do to me. Were you even asleep?”

  “A little.”

  “Liar.”

  “I was in a state of supreme relaxation. It’s practically the same thing.”

  She tossed a pillow over his head and pressed it down. Through the muffled feathers, he heard her mutter, “I’ll give you a state of relaxation.”

  With a growl, he grabbed her around the waist and flipped her over, pinning her to the bed with his weight. She squealed and struggled against him, fighting pretty hard until he grabbed both her wrists in one hand and held them above her head. Her breasts—already some kind of miracle—pointed skyward, nipples erect and tempting.

  Her breath came hard and fast. “Brute.”

  “Everyone knows strength trumps beauty.” He nudged her legs open with one of his own, and he could feel the slick heat of her desire against his knee. “But if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so.”

  “And what do I say if I want you to go?”

  He pretended to think about it for a moment. “You could start by complimenting my technique.”

  She batted her eyes up at him, mischief brimming playfully around the edges. “You rode me so hard last night I’m still feeling a little sore. It must be all that hammering and gouging you do.”

  He rewarded her by slipping one finger inside her. She tilted her hips to draw him in deep, her head lashing in ecstasy. “I also accept bribes,” he said.

  Only one of her eyes opened to peek at him. “Sexual bribes, or ones that require me to do helpful things like feed your chickens?”

  He teased her entrance, rubbing along her inner folds with his thumb. “Would you offer to feed my chickens?”

  “Do that again, and I might even offer to eat your chickens.”

  He chuckled and repeated the gesture, this time slipping a second finger in. Based on the way she started moving against his hand, he was pretty sure this was all it would take to get her off, but he was having far too much fun to stop now.

  “If you really wanted me to give this my all, you might even promise to come back,” he said.

  She stopped thrashing and looked up. Noah was afraid for a moment that he’d ruined the moment, that he’d scared away this sexy, carefree woman by showing his clingy underbelly. “Are you afraid I won’t?” she asked.

  “A little,” he said honestly. No sense in hiding a reality that would eventually find its way between them anyway. The problem of Lincoln might be temporarily resolved, but the problem of their monumental differences was just beginning. “There’s not a lot out here for a woman like you.”

  “There’s you, Noah. That’s enough.”

  For how long? Noah wasn’t so wrapped up in his isolation that he was unaware of how this lifestyle could wear on a person. Hell, he felt it himself more times than he could count—missed hanging out at his local bar for Monday night football so much he could taste the pale ale on his tongue, sometimes found himself humming the theme song to NPR’s Morning Edition. At least he had his resolve to help him through those lapses.

  But without the necessity of Lincoln’s recovery bringing Kendra out here—without the pervasive, heady aura of the forbidden cloaking them—how much could he really expect of her? How much longer would she find an excuse to come back?

 
He’d give her an excuse, dammit. He’d give her three.

  Without replying, he inserted another finger, stretching her wide with his three digits, loving the way she rolled her head back and gave herself over wholly to the moment. She clearly wasn’t a woman to lie there and let an orgasm happen to her—she thrust her hips against his hand to pull him deeper, begging for him to rip her apart with his thick man hands.

  His thick man hands were happy to oblige, and she rocketed against him, screaming loud enough to scare away entire flocks of chickens when she came.

  They lay sated and exhausted for a few minutes, their fingers intertwined and neither one feeling a need to speak. Kendra, because she knew the magic of the past twelve hours would disappear the moment she got up out of the bed. Noah, she suspected, because he was like every man in the world and incapable of doing anything but napping in the fuzzy warm afterglow.

  Which was why he surprised her by springing up out of bed and pulling her with him. A soft, gropey hug and a kiss that had her body quivering all over again later, and he was as alert as a human being could possibly be. It was a little unsettling.

  “I believe I promised you breakfast,” he said. “Though we’d better give in and call it lunch at this point.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him and began searching for her clothes. “Don’t complain. The older I get, the more I need my beauty sleep.” She also needed a shower and her overnight bag. “Mind if I clean myself up before we eat?”

  His gaze was hungry and appreciative as it roamed her naked form. “I think you might put too much stock into your need for beauty sleep.”

  “Please. You think I put too much stock into beauty, period.”

  He didn’t contradict her, and she had to quash the way his silence flustered her. She’d never before slept with a man who rated her feminine charms so low, who was capable of making her feel foolish and vain without saying a word.