Hot Licks

by Jennifer Dellerman

  Rome chuckled. “Come on. I need to check out your wound.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yes, you are fine, but I’m still going to have a look at your leg.” With that he stooped over and picked Gwen up as if she were light as a feather.

  “What are you doing?” She flung her arms around his neck.

  “Are ya deaf, lass,” he said in a surprisingly good Scottish accent that pulled a choked laugh from her. “I’m gonna check ya out.”

  He placed her on one of the wide, stone steps that he and Santos had spied. “Your jeans need to come off.”

  Gwen eyed him. Clothes were armor and taking them off meant less armor against his charm and her own desires. She looked down at the dirty steps. Not to mention she didn’t want any bare skin touching who knew what was all over the stonework beneath her bottom. “I don’t think so.”

  Rome heaved out an exasperated sound. “While I might crave the sight of you naked, if you clot before we get your jeans off, you’ll only rip open your wound and cause yourself more pain if we wait. Besides, it needs to be cleaned.” He pulled off his torn and muddy shirt and turned it inside out. “You can sit on this.”

  Gwen narrowed her eyes, trying to read Rome’s thoughts, but his face only held concern and determination.

  Logically, he was right and she knew that. Emotionally she was torn. And physically? She was in hot water. Her jeans weren’t just armor, they were hiding her arousal. Between the adrenaline coursing through her and their explosive chemistry, she was wet and ready, and as she reached for the ties on her hiking boots, she prayed he wouldn’t be able to tell.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shirtless, Rome turned from Gwen, lifted the discarded backpack to set on the step above her and then headed to the side wall of the gaping hole above them. Behind him he heard the soft thud of one boot and then the other as she set them on a stone step. Utilizing the falling rain, he scrubbed the mud from his shaking hands, absently noting the various scrapes and wounds on his knuckles. Then the sound of her zipper reached his ears and he stepped over a chunk of stone to stand fully under the pouring rain, wishing for a cold winter storm to dampen his ardor.

  Gwen’s whispered, “I’m ready,” had his already tense muscles tightening further.

  Sucking in a deep breath to steady nerves shot to hell and back, he turned. Yeah. A fucking blizzard wouldn’t make a pinhole in his lust.

  Obviously nervous, Gwen sat sideways on the stone step where he’d laid his shirt, her legs hanging over the edge, bare except for the white socks encasing her feet, which for some perverse reason turned him on even further.

  Her shoulders were hunched over as she squinted at her leg. Her hands pulled her shirt, only slightly muddy, low in the front, as if she were trying to cover the heart of her femininity from his purview.

  He clenched his jaw, struggling for his famous control, but it was lost under the blinding need of his hormones.

  Between his throbbing cock and his wet jeans, walking was a bitch and with a soft curse, he tried not to waddle as he moved past Gwen and scrounged the interior of the backpack.

  No wonder her back hurt. First aid kit, broken flashlight, several granola bars, a hand towel, hand sanitizer, tissues, and two large plastic – and dented – bottles of water. One bottle had sprung a leak and he used part of it to finish cleaning his hands, saving the rest for Gwen’s leg. He ignored his own cuts and bruises, knowing they would heal quickly enough without any help, and extracted the first aid kit to set next to the open backpack.

  Silent, because he could find his voice, he handed her the intact water bottle and a packet of pain relievers.

  “Thanks.”

  Even the way she tipped the bottle and swallowed was somehow erotic, making his heart thunder in his ears and shooting blood to his already pulsing cock at the idea of having that sweet mouth wrapped around its length. When she licked her lips to catch every last drop, it took all his strength to shift his focus to her leg.

  “It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches. It’s shallow and the bleeding is minimal, but you’ll have a scar.” A long, thin scar that will mar all that beautiful honey-colored skin.

  Honey. Her middle name, the perfect adjective for her skin and... He had to squeeze his eyes shut and strangle back a famished moan. Bet she tastes like honey, right between those sleek thighs.

  Giving his head a hard shake, he reached for the halfempty water bottle.

  “Are you sure we should do this here?” With one hand wrapped around her calf, he looked up to see her staring at the dirt above them. “I mean, what if there’s an aftershock.”

  Rome slowly poured some of the water along the wound, wiping gently at the embedded dirt with a piece of gauze. “That wasn’t an earthquake.” At her snort of disbelief he smiled. “I mean in the usual sense. Didn’t you hear that loud explosion just before?”

  “I did.”

  “Florida’s not exactly known for quakes.” He exchanged the water for antiseptic wipes. “Someone somewhere set off an underground explosion, which, coupled with the rain and the digging overhead which already weakened the ground, caused this tunnel to collapse.”

  “I didn’t even know there were tunnels here. Did you?”

  She winced as he cleaned her wound.

  “Sorry,” he husked, pulling his hand back and staring deep into her eyes. He hated that she hurt, but the site needed to be tended to. At her nod, he bent back to his task, saying, “No. I didn’t know about the tunnels, but those men obviously did.”

  “I heard them say something about it when the earth starting shaking. But, I...uhm.”

  She hesitated and he glanced up at the tight expression on her face. “Go ahead.”

  “I was a little freaked out about what I saw.”

  He bet she was. “Because of the jaguar or the vampire?”

  Nothing. Not even the sound of breathing. He lifted his eyes to her incredulous ones. “You knew about them? I wasn’t imagining things?”

  “No, you weren’t hallucinating. Vampires do exist, and the cat shows up on occasion.”

  “But Porter said I was imagining the jaguar when I saw him a few months ago.”

  Tearing open a packet of antibacterial cream, he shrugged. “It’s not something we want to get around.”

  Several heartbeats passed in silence until she all but whispered, “I thought they slept during the day.”

  Rome knew she wasn’t talking about the feline. He shook his head and squeezed out some soothing lotion to spread over her wound. “With enough blood, a vamp could tan all day on a sunny beach. The myths about mythical creatures are myths themselves, if you catch my drift.”

  Finished, he picked through the kit, settling on gauze and tape, and doing his damnedest to keep his gaze from straying to the shadowed hollow at the juncture of her thighs. Without the thick denim, the scent of her arousal was making his cat snarly, and as his dick was hard enough to pound nails, the man wasn’t too far behind.

  His nostrils flared at the musky fragrance, mere inches away from his face. He could almost taste her.

  He gripped the tape so hard he broke the plastic backing. Grinding his molars to dust, he cut off a swath of gauze.

  “At least I was right about the jaguar.”

  By concentrating on taping her leg, he was able to keep his eyes from wandering to where he really wanted them. “Yes you were.”

  “Wasn’t he gorgeous?”

  A red haze of jealousy clouded his vision and he felt his gums burn. “The black ones are better looking.”

  “A black jag? Have you actually seen one? Live, I mean and not in a zoo or on TV or anything like that?”

  “Hmm-hum.” Her exuberance calmed his beast and he was able to finish covering her wound rather than bite her in reproof for showing interest in another. Knowing his eyes were more cat than man, he didn’t look at her as he packed everything away, but he couldn’t ignore the weight of her stare.“What?”

&n
bsp; “Where?”

  In the mirror, every damn day.

  Not yet. “There’s a lot I’ve seen in this world, bella.

  Some good, some bad. Interesting and disheartening. Just know that there is more out there than what you previously believed.”

  “Like the vampire?”

  Rome nodded. “Like the vampire. I need to check your back.”

  She straightened. “I’m good. Thanks for tending to my leg.”

  Saying nothing, he raised his head, his gaze normal and steady on her face and let the determination in his eyes to the talking.

  “Fine.” She kicked out her good leg in irritation and her knee nearly cost him his family jewels.

  Good thing he was quick. “Whoa there. Let’s just get these out of the way.” He spread her legs and stepped between them. So maybe it wasn’t the best way to check her back, but damn if it wasn’t titillating.

  Her hands were balled into fists in front of her crotch, pulling her shirt tight against her body, hampering any attempt he made to feel her flesh. “Arms up.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  His face hurt as he forced every muscle into a smooth countenance. “I need to get your shirt off to inspect your back.” Gwen growled at him, actually growled. And he liked it.

  But he didn’t like the waiting. And more waiting. Finally she gave in and lifted her arms so he could draw off her shirt.

  He might have swallowed his tongue if it wasn’t stuck to the roof of his mouth. Her bra was orange, pushing her breasts high, her tight nipples a faint outline against the material. When she crossed her arms over her chest and placed them on opposite shoulders, he lowered his eyes.

  Dark blue panties rode low on her hips, hiding from his sight the best place on earth.

  Drawing in a fortifying breath, he slid his hands up along her ribcage. She flinched at his touch. “That hurt?”

  “N-no.” She stuttered.

  Appeased at her response, he moved his hands along her back, gently probing. The only sound now the increasing tattooing of her heart and the quickening of her breath. To torture them both, Rome edged to his right, forcing her leg wider, so he could bend around her torso to see her back. Though nothing felt cracked under his steady stroking, she’d be sporting a bruise or two.

  She rocked forward and the scent of fresh feminine cream filled his nose.

  Rome squeezed his eyes shut. He bet her panties were damp. Damp enough to wet his shirt she was sitting on. His teeth gnashed together. “You okay?” His throat was so thick the words were barely decipherable.

  Another rock of her body that caused her breasts to brush his chest. “Just a little,” she paused, embarrassed.

  “Needy?” His voice was almost gone.

  She didn’t answer and he straightened, though he didn’t retreat from his position. He couldn’t. “Maybe. Must be the adrenaline.”

  Little fibber. Yeah, the battle-ready tension coursing through her body heightened the senses, but he knew she already wanted him. She might not be starving for his touch like he was for hers, but the mating heat ensured a welcoming physical reaction. It was up to the man to establish trust and ensure the emotional response and strengthen the fragile ties that bound them. Time was needed, which was why he’d once told a wolf shifter to take it slow with his newly found mate least he lose her. Now that Rome had discovered his own mate and was in the midst of the fierce, gut wrenching hunger of the mating heat that twisted him in knots, he could better understand the difficulty of acting on the word slow.

  He lifted his hands to cup her face. “Maybe. But I’m still going to kiss you.”

  Without waiting for permission, Rome lowered his lips to her astonished ones. Perfect. He plunged his tongue deep into the wet, velvet heat of her mouth, tasting her sweet essence. He knew from that first kiss he could get lost right here, drinking her in. His cock swelled under a heavy wave of arousal, his veins felt thick with molten lava, fueling his desire. Deepening the kiss, he swept his tongue against hers, coaxing the response he craved.

  Then Gwen was kissing him back, her hands curling on his bare shoulders, her tongue delving into his own mouth.

  Lowering his hands, he cupped her breasts. Generous, they had easily filled his palms last night and he’d ached all night and day to have those soft globes fill them once again. More than that, he wanted them in his mouth.

  Reaching back, he unhooked her bra, catching the warm weight of her breasts as they sprang free from their confinement.

  A faint moan of need trembled in her throat, the sound filling him with elation. He kept kissing her, tasting her as he alternated between kneading her breasts and lightly pinching the nipples that thrust hard into his palm.

  The rough gasp she made spurred him on.

  His mouth moved lower, nibbling, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck. He drew her bra away just in time for his lips to wrap around one turgid nipple. Her fingers were in his damp hair, her short nails digging into his scalp as she pressed him closer. Shifting to take her other breast into his mouth, he teased her first with a long lick, then he parted his lips to draw her in, sucking strongly, elevating her arousal with the flick of his tongue, the rough glide of his teeth.

  When she was shaking, he widened his stance, lowering himself so he could explore the soft curve of her belly. He dipped his tongue into her naval. Drawing in a deep breath, he scented everything Gwen. Her feminine arousal was a siren’s call, making the blood pound in his cock. A pang of hunger so sharp and brutal he could barely think straight.

  “Rome?” His name was an uncertain whisper and he looked up, knowing full well he couldn’t hide the heightened state of lust that glowed in his eyes.

  “Let me.” It was more command then question, though he did manage to halt his downward slide to heaven long enough to give her time to tell him no. Not liking that possibility, he tacked on in a rough growl, “don’t tell me no, bella. Please.” At that moment he would beg on bended knee, offer up all his wealth and eternal obedience for a taste of her honey.

  Her face flushed, her heaving chest causing her breasts to bounce enticingly. When she pushed on his chest he nearly roared out in angry frustration, but it was only to move him back a fraction so she could inch to the edge of the step.

  He nearly fell to his knees in relief.

  Cupping her face, he kissed her, pouring out all he had into each brush of their tongues. One hand circled to the back of her head, the other her waist, as he leaned over her, urging her to lay back on his shirt. He never took his lips from hers as he stretched one hand out blindly, seeking her own shirt. When his fingers closed over the material, he bunched it under her head, protecting that part of her body from the hard, wide stone step. And while he worried about her back, she made no protest, no whimper of pain, and he silently promised her that next time he would lay her out over a thick, soft mattress.

  He actually trembled as he took another slow journey down the length of her body, amazed by the smooth texture of her skin and the toned muscles that flexed under his hand, his lips. Catching her thighs in his hands, he spread them further apart and settled his mouth against the soaked cotton of her panties. He glided his teeth gently over the swollen flesh of her pussy, glorying in the way she arched her hips, the startled cry of pleasure that filled the air. He could taste her through the damp material. Taste her and crave more.

  With an impatient growl, he snapped the sides with one sharp claw, thankful that cat shifters weren’t like wolf shifters and could manipulate partial changes. For a short period of time at least, and usually reserved only in the case of an emergency.

  To Rome, getting his mouth on Gwen’s cream

  constituted an emergency. Of epic proportions.

  His mouth clamped over her, his tongue diving in deep into her wet core. Not the gentle lapping of a kitten or the tender coaxing of a tentative lover. No, Rome was all fierce, primitive male, licking at her with long rasping strokes, giving plea
sure as he luxuriated in her response. He wanted to roll around in her scent, crawl inside and let her surround him. As her feminine essence slid down his throat he felt his gums begin to burn. A warning that his fangs were about to descend without his permission, a harsh reminder that Gwen was his mate, and the cat jumping and clawing at the cage of Rome’s control wanted her as much as the man.

  “I love the taste of your cream. So hot and spicy and fucking incredible.” He licked his lips and dove down for another helping as he ripped at the button fly of his jeans, his fingers shaking so hard it took several tries to free his raging cock. It must have been habit that made his hand dig in his back pocket, searching out one of the condoms he’d stolen from Porter, because he certainly didn’t want anything to come between him and the soft, wet sheath of his woman. He didn’t want any barrier separating them when her inner muscles tightened around him as she came.

  And he ached to fill her with his seed, claiming her in the most primal way as his own.

  When he managed to get the condom over his shaft, he rose, lifting her legs over his arms. The thick head of his erection nudged the entrance to her body, but he didn’t thrust in. Not yet. He rocked his hips, gliding his length along her folds, wetting the condom with her juices before returning to press tightly against the small opening.

  Rome felt almost savage at the first shallow thrust.

  Sweat run in rivets down his back as he fought not to drive to the hilt. Delicate muscles squeezed around the engorged head and he pulled back, thrust in again.

  “That’s it, bella,” he crooned and praised. “Take me.

  Take all of me.” He continued to stretch her with each careful thrust until he was seated balls deep. Feeling as if he were about to explode, he made himself pause, giving Gwen time to adjust to his size, his invasion, and simply luxuriate in the satin walls that surrounded his cock.

  “Rome,” his name this time wasn’t a soft whisper, but a harsh reprimand. “What are you doing?”

  He lifted his lids to see her head raised, the stark need in her eyes. The panting gasps and clenching of her internal muscles a dead giveaway her orgasm was close.