Tracker’s Sin

by Sarah McCarty

  “You feel so good,” she moaned as her nipple scraped across his chest, sending a jolt of pure lightning through her body. Such a heady feeling to be carried in his arms, to be surrounded by his strength. To know for this moment nothing could touch her and she was safe to feel what she did. That Tracker, who knew everything, wouldn’t turn away.

  She rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped one hand around his neck. The other she busied playing with his nipple. So different from hers in looks—small and brown—but so similar in responsiveness. She flicked it with her nail. He grunted. His cock flexed again.

  “You’re playing with fire, woman.”

  She flicked it once more. “Where are we going?”

  “To bed.”

  A shiver went down her spine. Outside the windows it was dark. Inside the house was warm and humid. In Tracker’s arms it was heaven.

  “Any complaints?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

  Yes, that she hadn’t met him first. Thought gave birth to speech. “That I didn’t meet you long ago.”

  His answer drifted above her head. “Sweets, I’d be a damn greedy man to quibble with the when. I’m just glad I’ve got you and a bed.”

  “You don’t ask for much.”

  Turning sideways, he carried her through the bedroom door. “Don’t get disappointed much, either.”

  But he hoped. He had to hope. He was human.

  “I’m not the prize you think I am,” she whispered.

  He laid her gently on the bed. She thought about protesting because the sheets were getting wet, but when she looked up, she could just make out his expression, and what she saw there held her enthralled. He was looking at her as if he had the world’s greatest treasure laid out in front of him. To heck with the sheets. A woman could wait her whole life for a man to look at her like that. A woman like her, two lifetimes.

  “Now that’s where you’re wrong. You’re my prize.”

  The emphasis on “my” sent a thrill whispering across her skin. Tracker’s. He came over her, blocking the faint moonlight from the window. And that fast fear swamped her and she was once again trapped in that dark place where there was only pain and taking and nothing good. Lights flickered behind her eyelids.

  Fingers touched her cheek. “Ari?”

  Tracker. It is Tracker. Shaking her head to dispel the last doubt, she rolled to her side and drew in hard, deep breaths while her heart thundered in her chest. The pillow was wet against her cheek. From her hair or her tears? She didn’t know. Didn’t care. “I can’t do this.”

  She dug her nails into the pillow, wanting to scream. Goddammit, why couldn’t she do this?

  The mattress dipped as Tracker sat beside her. Her body rolled toward him. His arm came around her back, pulling her against him so she was wrapped like the letter C around his hips, her head resting on his thigh. In front of her his erection rose proudly. Thick and hard, the flared crown darker than the rest. All she had to do was reach out and she could touch it, convince him to overlook her flaws through the force of passion. He wanted her to touch him; she knew he did. It’d be so easy to distract him. One touch. One stroke. One kiss, and he’d forget all about her lapse, and she could still please him. She ran her tongue over her lips as his cock bounced with his movement, imagining how he’d taste. She wouldn’t do it, because it’d be a lie, and she’d promised no lies. But the temptation lingered. It was just too hard to lay her flaws out on the table like curiosities at a sideshow.

  Tracker tapped her cheek. “Why?”

  Please don’t ask me that. Please don’t make me to say it.

  The silent plea went unheard. “Is it because of what you remembered, or something else?”

  She pinched the inside of his thigh. He didn’t even grunt. “Of course it’s because of what happened. What else could it be?”

  “It could be because you’re home now, safe, and not looking for a protector anymore.”

  The carefully worded statement sat so heavily in the silence, exposing so much with so little.

  “Do you actually believe I was intimate with you because I was…scared?”

  “It’s more likely than not.”

  The inside of his thigh begged for a harder pinch. “You have the strangest notions.”

  His hand smoothed across her hair. “Not so strange from where I sit.”

  She pinched him, after all. He caught her hand and drew it aside with that same calm with which he did everything. “Then you need to change your seat,” she muttered.

  All her snapping did was make him smile. His hand continued stroking until her heart slowed its frantic pace. The quiet of the night settled back around them.

  The peace lasted three minutes before he drawled, “So do you, you know.”

  “You just have to have the last word, don’t you?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “I suppose next you’re going to tell me not to think about it?”

  This time his hand followed her hair down over her back and spine, catching the end of one section and drawing it back up her body until it caught on her breast. He wrapped it around once, then, taking the end like a brush, he stroked it across her nipple. She watched as he did it again, the timbre of his voice sinking deep into her bones.

  “On the contrary. I want you to think about it the whole time I love you. Every minute. Every second.”

  “What?”

  He turned her on her back, caught her shoulders and lifted her higher on the mattress. This time, when he came down over her, he stayed a little to the side. Her breath hitched, but the terror only simmered.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Now, I want you to think of them. I want you to remember what they did to you. Close your eyes and think hard on it. Everything you can recall. I want you to.”

  “I don’t want to think of it. Not now.”

  “There’s no better time than right at this moment. Remember how they kissed you.”

  She did. Horrible, painful devourings of her mouth. Tracker’s lips touched hers once, twice, the soft and tender way that he’d taught her meant I love you.

  “You holding on to it?”

  Yes, she was, but the memories had nothing to do with this. “How far do you want me to carry this?”

  “As far as you want.”

  “You want me to bite your tongue, too?”

  His smile pressed against hers. “If you feel the need.”

  The kisses on her mouth traveled to the right and landed on the corner. Tingles started in her arms and spread to her hands. She needed to hold on to something. She grabbed the sheets. They weren’t substantial enough. She reached up and found Tracker’s broad shoulders. Sleek muscle flexed under smooth skin. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel, remembering how easily he’d held her up against the wall in the barn. How thoroughly he’d taken her. How hard she’d come. Yes. That’s what she wanted. The memory of Tracker giving her pleasure.

  “You thinking on what I told you?” he asked. The kisses spread to her cheek.

  “No.”

  He caught her earlobe between his lips. She braced herself, waiting for the bite. But there was just a flick of his tongue and the tiniest pressure that created such an intense feeling, she had to turn her head away. Tracker chuckled—a deep, dark, sexy sound that promised more of the same.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’d rather remember how good you feel in me.”

  His body jerked against hers. “Good, because there’s no comparison.”

  No, there wasn’t. Tracker was pleasure. Pure and simple.

  His lips traveled from her ear down her neck, followed the taut cord there. Other men had kissed her that way. She’d felt nothing. But now, oh now, this was good. She turned her head, giving Tracker better access. Giving the pleasure more room to grow.

  “I only want to love you.”

  His hand slid down her shoulder, skimming the back of her arm
in the barest of touches. Goose bumps sprang up in the wake of the seductive lure, spreading inward to her chest as his fingers slipped beneath her palm, tickling the sensitive surface. Another shiver shook her from head to toe. Another chuckle blended into the night.

  Lacing his fingers with hers, Tracker slowly drew her hand above her head and pinned it with his. He repeated the same process with the other arm until he was holding both her hands trapped above her head while he leaned above her. His hair slid over his shoulder, slipping across her left nipple in a silken caress, sending yet another bolt of sensation through her.

  “Now I’ve got you.”

  His legs straddled hers, pinning her in yet another way. His cock fell against her mound—hard, hot and eager. She braced herself for the onslaught of the lights. They didn’t materialize. Instead there came the memory of when he’d first been with her—the intimate struggle to take him in, the pleasure-pain as he’d gained that first inch, the bliss of taking him all.

  And for the first time, she saw Vincente’s lie for the gift it was. Thinking herself a once-happy woman, she’d had no fear of Tracker that day. She’d been open and accepting, and he’d made her happy. And that memory was so much more powerful than the others.

  “You concentrating?”

  Ari answered with a lift of her hips, which slid Tracker’s cock a fraction of an inch along her pussy. It wasn’t enough. “Nope.”

  He leaned down. She raised up. Their mouths met. Gently. Softly.

  “Am I in trouble?” she whispered.

  His smile was pure seduction. Pulling back, he slid his cock along her pussy again. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Good.” She reached for him. He caught her hands and shook his head. “You keep these up here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is me creating us, and I need my focus.”

  He needed his focus. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed while she blinked back tears. “You crying?”

  “It was a beautiful thought.”

  “Heck, woman. I’m trying to seduce you, not make poetry.”

  “You’re doing both.”

  “If I let go, are you good to keep your hands there?”

  She had to ask. “What if I don’t?”

  His hand slipped down to cup her breast. “Then I won’t kiss these pretty little breasts.”

  She slammed her hands back into the mattress.

  He smiled, the fall of his hair hiding the scar, and again she saw the boy inside the man.

  “Awful compliant, all of a sudden.”

  “I’m hoping for a reward.”

  He looked up from where he was studying her breasts. “Good.”

  His expression grew serious as he watched his thumb play over her nipple. She had the strange feeling he was avoiding her gaze. “We both know what it’s like to be made love to for all the wrong reasons.” He was avoiding her gaze. Because he felt vulnerable? It was hard to imagine Tracker unsure.

  “This time, I want to try it for the right ones, and see how it goes.”

  She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, bringing his gaze to hers. By the time she got to see his expression, any trace of insecurity was gone, but she knew it had been there. She knew only one way to make it go away.

  “I want you to make love to me, Tracker. The way you’ve always dreamed of.”

  His eyes went dark and hot. “No need to go that far. I’ll settle for this.”

  “This” began with his big hand plumping her breast before squeezing it a few times, stroking gently with his fingers from base to tip once, twice, three times, never quite touching the nipple, teasing her with the possibility. Pleasure built with the rhythm he set, arcing inward from her nipple, flowing in a direct line to her pussy. Her clit swelled right along with her breast. Her pussy ached in sweet pulses, and still he didn’t touch her where she needed him to.

  “Tracker,” she whispered, twisting on the bed.

  Another almost touch. “Anything you want, sweets.”

  “You. I want you.”

  “Where?” He breathed the question against her aching nipple.

  “Here.” She arched her back, pressing her nipple against the softness of his lips. They parted, tempting her further. His breath bathed the nub in heat, preparing it for the moist possession of his tongue. Soft against hard. Wet against dry.

  “Tracker!”

  She moaned, he laughed, and his hair brushed against her breast. Another sweet caress, ripe with tenderness, and just like when he kissed her mouth, she heard the I love you in his touch. And when his lips caught the tender bud between them and pressed before sucking slowly, easily, she also heard the I want you.

  And that was beautiful.

  His hand slid over her stomach and then farther. She gasped.

  “Easy, sweets,” he whispered against her breast. “Just more pleasure.”

  His finger nudged between the thick folds of her labia, finding her clit. Lights shot from behind her eyes as he pressed.

  “Oh!”

  “What? Too much? Do you want me to stop?”

  It was a struggle to find her voice as his finger circled over the slick bundle of nerves, but she did. “If you do, I’m going to fetch that damn knife.”

  Her reward for her impudence was another flick, followed by a light pinch that had her whole body jerking.

  “Oh, my heavens!”

  “If you like that, you’re going to love this.”

  “This” was a string of biting kisses down her torso, over the softness of her lower stomach and below. By the time she figured out what he intended, it was too late. His mouth replaced his finger, and all she could do was grab the pillow behind her head and hold on as wave after wave of searing joy rocked her body.

  “Tracker.”

  “Too late to protest, sweets.” He burrowed his tongue deeper into her folds. “I’ve got the taste of you now.”

  The pleasure rose hard and fast, spiraling through her center, tangling in her pussy, gathering in a knot in her womb, growing with every pass of his tongue, expanding until she couldn’t bear it, but she had to, because he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Don’t. Stop. Don’t stop.” The chant went through her mind, fell from her lips. He pushed her thighs open, slid a thick finger into her pussy. She spread her legs wider, the tension in her like a wild thing, clawing for release.

  Another pass of his tongue. Another unbearable rake of pleasure. “Tracker!”

  She was so close. So close.

  “Come, baby. Come hard for me.”

  His teeth closed over her clit. She tensed, caught between fear and anticipation, which only made her quiver more. A second finger joined the first, thrusting in and out.

  “Now,” he growled, covering his teeth with his lips and drawing her clit out in a quick tug, at the same time he added another finger.

  Her world exploded. Lightning slashed behind her eyelids, shot through her veins, seared through her pussy, sending her into paroxysms that had her screaming with an overwhelming joy. Before she could recover, his cock replaced his fingers. Delicate muscles struggled to stretch around the broad head. She bit her lip as the pleasure bordered on pain.

  “Relax.” Like velvet, the order slipped under her fear, stroking it away. This was Tracker. He would never hurt her.

  Taking a breath, she did. Resistance faded and then he was in her, pushing forward in a slow, steady rhythm that opened her gradually, completely. Perfectly. Lights danced behind her lids, but there was no chaos, only good. He pulled out and thrust in again. Slowly and steadily. Oh, dear heavens. So good. The lights expanded, finding the dark corners inside her that had grown with the return of her memory, and bathing them in light. This was making love. This was the difference.

  “That’s it. Take me. Just…like…that,” Tracker growled deep in his throat.

  She moaned and lifted in counterpoint, driving his cock a fraction deeper. Oh God, he filled her perfectly. “Oh!”


  He ground his groin into hers in small circles. “Good?”

  “Yes!” Very, very good. This time, when he pulled back, his thumb was there, rubbing and stroking her clit, bringing back the burning that was so much more than desire. So much more than pleasure. And this time, when he returned, it was harder, but just as deep. Oh, heaven, so deep. The lights grew brighter, her breath shorter. She needed, needed…

  “More!”

  “Oh, hell yes!” Without breaking that driving rhythm, he pushed her knees up to her chest, opening her further, fucking her harder. She was so close, so close. “Tracker!”

  His answer was a growl and a thrust so hard it jarred her forward. “Come for me, baby. Come on my cock.”

  “You, too,” she managed to gasp.

  “I’m trying.”

  She opened her eyes. His were closed. The same passion that had her ripping at the pillow was there in his expression, but in the lines by his eyes, there was another emotion. A sadness that didn’t belong there. Her wonderful, sexy man, giving even when he didn’t need to, not asking for what he needed in return because he thought such things weren’t for him.

  We both know what it’s like to be made love to for all the wrong reasons.

  Yes, they did. But this wasn’t one of those times, no matter what crazy notion he had in his head now. Tracker opened his eyes. Reaching up, Ari placed her palm against his cheek, the way she had before. She watched the understanding hit, the passion take over, the pleasure break, saw him struggle to contain it, to hold on to control. With a stroke of her thumb and a simple order, she stole both. “Come for me, Tracker.”

  13

  “Damn, woman, I think you broke something.”

  Ari rolled over and propped herself up against his chest. “Nothing permanent, I hope.”

  Her stomach rumbled embarrassingly. She was hungry. It seemed such a mundane thing to realize, when her world had just shifted on its axis. Tracker’s big hand slid across her stomach. Heat from their skin bonded them together. She placed her hand over his.

  “Sounds like somebody’s hungry.”