Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  She popped both open with the top of her corkscrew and carried them back to the living room, stopping short. Buck had tossed his leather jacket onto the sofa and was standing facing the wall behind the sofa.

  Staring at her canvas she’d hung over that piece of furniture, to be exact.

  Gertie couldn’t even summon up a reaction to the fact he was studying something she’d made. His white T-shirt was tight across his shoulders and around his arms. His hands were on his hips, his jeans tight on his ass. White T-shirt and jeans, that’s all he needed. Good lord.

  He turned back suddenly, and now he’d caught her looking at his ass. Her face got warmer and she held a bottle out, keeping the coffee table between them.

  He took the green bottle with a raised eyebrow. Yep, not real beer to him, but he’d drink it anyway. “So, where is it?”

  “What?” she was caught off guard before she could take a swig.

  “The weed. You sure it’s not cut with anything?”

  Gertie’s heart flipped in her chest. “What? Cut with what?”

  He brought his beer bottle down. “Did you already smoke some?”

  She nodded, setting the bottle down and going for her purse. “Yeah, I did. When I called you. What do people put in pot? Why would they do that?”

  He was chuckling when she held the baggie out to him. “You should really only buy from trusted sources. I appreciate you going for authenticity in your undercover operations, though.”

  “Am I going to die?”

  He was stifling laughter as he tossed the bag back on the low cabinet next to her TV. “How long ago did you smoke it? Are you seeing things?”

  “No,” she whispered, blinking furiously and wondering if her light and floaty feeling was just a normal pot feeling or not.

  Buck set her beer down for her, next to his, moving close and cupping her face in his hands. His warm, dry, big, rough hands.

  He was staring at her eyes, and she told herself he was assessing her pupil dilation. She tried breathing through her mouth because he smelled too good. There was beer on his breath, yes, but cigarette smoke clung to him along with leather and motor oil, and just a distinct scent of man she didn’t often notice.

  His hands were under her jawline, his fingers on the back of her neck. Eye contact was heavy at this point, and Gertie decided he wasn’t running a narcotic diagnostic on her eyes. She swallowed hard, wondering what she’d gotten herself into inviting him up here. There was too much to him all of a sudden.

  In front of her was a big unknown. A big, bearded, long-haired mystery. A sexy, wearing-the-hell-out-of-his-Levis foreign object. She’d always been surrounded by men who’d had instinct bleached and civilized out of them. Or so she expected, standing where she was now. The difference was obvious with this man holding her in place, looking like he was damn used to taking and getting what he wanted.

  If Buck thought this was a strange thing to do he said nothing about it. He wanted to hold her like this, stare at her, so he did. She didn’t want to get free, though. No part of her wanted to separate his hands from her skin. If anything, her skin wanted to feel his hands running over every inch of it.

  She licked her lips and was about to speak when he moved closer, head tilting as his mouth covered hers. She inhaled through her nose, her body going through a full quiver. With her eyes closed she breathed deep, his scent mingling with the feel and taste of him. His tongue brushed her lower lip and Gertie moaned, hands going to his shoulders and simply clinging to his shirt.

  When she did that, his hands dropped to wrap around her lower back, dragging her against his body, and it was like hitting a brick wall. He was tall and broad and so strong. Gertie let her arms slide up and around his neck, lost as his tongue plunged into her mouth so forcefully she felt it between her legs and across her breasts.

  Gertie’s reaction to just this kiss was alarmingly swift. She melted into putty, the only thing keeping her upright were her arms around his neck and his grip on her hips. He had her plastered to him, one hand sliding up to the back of her neck. It wound into her hair, and he pulled slightly to part his mouth from hers like he couldn’t do it any other way.

  Gertie caught her breath, head swimming, eyes trying to focus on him. “What?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he rasped back, and she was pleased that he was breathing hard, too.

  “Why’d you stop?” she asked, tightening her arms around his neck.

  “Ain’t stopping anything,” he answered, his eyes running down her face and neck, to her breasts. “Just giving you a chance to stop me.”

  Gertie licked her lips again. Emotionally, she was a mess. She’d been drifting for two years, all her relationships shallow anyway. But in all her life she’d never come so undone from a kiss. If he could do all this to her with a kiss, just imagine what he could do with, well, everything else.

  “I’m not going to stop you,” she said breathily, seeing how his eyes grew heated. Warmth pooled low in her body and she had to breathe through her mouth. “Will you stay?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Buck had her chest pressed into him, her stomach soft on his. She smelled amazing. It was either shampoo or some girlie lotion or something, but it was in his head. Her mouth had been perfect; warm, wet, her tongue as aggressive as his. She may have come from a pretty home and charmed childhood but her wild streak was wide, a bit impulsive and probably crazy. Still, holding her this close, feeling her under his hands, moving against him like she was in heat, he didn’t care.

  “Oh, I’ll stay,” he promised, closing his mouth over hers again, letting his hand slide down to cup her ass. That firm, supple, perfect ass he’d been thinking about. In his hand it was even better than he’d imagined.

  The motion rolled her hips against his, and he knew he was hard. It hurt he was so hard. Everything about her was open and inviting, and he was going to take advantage of what he could. “Bedroom,” he growled into her mouth, and she started walking backwards, like she didn’t want to let him go for the time it would take to get there.

  Gertie’s dress was another one of these wrap-around things, and his hand pulled at the tie on her hip before sliding along her waist. But there was another tie on the inside, so he looked down as they stumbled down a hallway to figure out the intricacies of her outfit. Unfortunately he was distracted by the half of her bra that was now out in the open. It was cream lace and so beautifully full he groaned, cupping her in his hand. She made a sound in her throat that brought his attention back to her face but she was turning away to pull him behind her down the hallway into a bedroom. She faced him again at the foot of her bed, running her hands up over his shoulders and going up on her toes to kiss him.

  The women he was used to wouldn’t get any effort on his part. He wasn’t an outright ass to them, never hurt them, but his own release was the only point of any hook-ups. With Gertie, her being so outright normal, he wanted her to enjoy it. He wanted to get her off, and that thought was foreign. What was more; he hoped he could do it.

  With tongues tangled he finally got her dress open, backing her knees to the foot of her bed and pressing his knee between hers, rising up over her as she tumbled back onto the mattress, mouth parting from his with a startled gasp. Her face was flushed, a pink wave that ran down her chest. She was breathing through her mouth, eyes wide and bright. She caught herself with her elbows, and that body was laid out, lush and perfect just for him.

  He grabbed a handful of his T-shirt at the back and yanked it off over his head. Before he was clear of the cotton she was sitting up, her hands running up his stomach, across his chest, through the bit of hair he had there. She pressed a kiss with those wet, hot lips to his stomach, and he caught her chin in his hand, tilting her head up. The way her lips looked rosy, and the way they were parted and her breath was quick, making her chest rise and fall, was sexy as hell. He had a head full of things he wanted to do to her, and he was actually worried about what
she wanted from him.

  He leaned down, hand on each side of her lap, and slowly lowered himself to his knees, keeping her eyes on his. As soon as he was close enough she grabbed him around the back of his neck and reeled him in, kissing him deep. So deep he shoved his hands in her hair – this fucking amazing hair – and held her in place while his tongue went on another exploration of her mouth. She was squirming, writhing her legs along his sides, making small sounds of desperation that he couldn’t wait to amplify.

  He worked one breast with his hand, his thumb teasing at her nipple over the lace of her bra. She arched her back, forcing herself into his palm fully as her mouth parted from his to catch her breath. He took the opportunity to press his lips around her other nipple, tonguing it through the lace as well, thrilled that it was already peaked. Her hands were in his hair now, holding him to her chest. Her hips were rocking with the motion of his hands and mouth, and the next move wasn’t hard to decide on.

  He raised his head, capturing her mouth again but after a brief taste his hand moved to the center of her chest, pushing her to her back. She tried to bring him with her by his hair but he freed her hands then distracted her by dropping his mouth to the inside of her thigh.

  “Oh God,” she whispered, her legs coming up, one foot propping up on his shoulder. Offering herself without another word.

  Buck hadn’t gone down on a woman in years. The thought of making her come with his mouth didn’t register as an option, it was required of him to truly enjoy her. He let his lips and teeth pluck a trail down her creamy skin to the juncture of her legs, feeling the heat of her on his face. He lapped at her over her underwear a couple times, feeling her toes curl on his shoulder and a whimper flow from her throat. Her hips moved with it and Buck knew she’d been teased enough. With one finger he hooked the edge of these cream panties that matched the bra, pulling the damp fabric out of the way.

  Pink, sweet perfection. His tongue hit her clit, dragging upwards slowly and Gertie’s back bowed off the mattress. No sound, though. She was absolutely silent. He did that a couple more times until she was making tormented, mewling noises. He cast his eyes upward along her body, the contours rising and dropping with her rapid breathing. She wasn’t looking at him. Instead, her eyes were closed, head to the side, biting her lip and wincing like it was either too much or not nearly enough. He went back to nibbling on her other thigh, underwear still pulled clear from her core, and her reaction was beautiful.

  “Please, don’t stop. Make me come, please -”

  She didn’t get to finish. He closed his mouth over her clit, tongue running in circles while he softly sucked at it, and he got just what he wanted. She gasped, jerked, and eventually cried out, both her heels dropping onto his back, clamping him in place. She rolled her hips against the motion of his tongue, panting and gasping in time. He planted one arm over her stomach to hold her in place so he could really go to work, and she grunted in annoyance until he slid two fingers inside, stroking at her silky wet core.

  A phone rang, and he ignored it. It was his, but with the taste, scent and feel of her all over him, his brain was telling him it was a wrong number and they’d realize it after the first ring and hang up. But it rang a second time and he snarled, yanking himself away and reaching in his back pocket for his phone. Gertie’s moan was pure frustration, much like his tone as he barked into the burner, “What?”

  There was a mellow chuckle and his grip tightened on the flip phone. “Easy there Tiger,” Knuckles said smoothly in his ear. “This a bad time?”

  “Yeah, it is,” he growled, wiping his chin as Gertie rose up onto her elbows, pulling her legs together at the knee and wrapping her dress back across her chest. She was still panting, her face was flushed, and her eyes were everywhere except on him.

  “Sorry man. We got trouble though. Fritter took a bullet washing his truck in front of his house. No one saw who did it, no description of the shooter.”

  In a snap Buck’s focus returned, heartbeat leveling out. “What?”

  “He’s okay, he didn’t see who did it, either. He’s in surgery, they’re digging the slug out of him. He’s expected to recover. But Jayce wants us tracking this fucker down.”

  Buck closed his eyes, pissed off, but glad Fritter was going to be okay. “I’m a half an hour out.”

  “Then you better hit the road. The longer we wait the further away our leads get.”

  His voice sounded pitiful but he didn’t care. “I’m coming in.”

  Knuckles laughed again. “That tone only means you’re with a broad, man.”

  “Shut up.” Buck snapped his phone shut and grabbed his T-shirt. “Bad news, honey,” he muttered as he pulled it over his head. “I gotta go.”

  “What?” She was futzing with her hair, trying to look dignified. But at his statement she froze, looking shocked. It was somewhat endearing.

  “I know. Trust me, I’m not happy about this.” He rose up on his knees, hands on each side of her lap again, leaning into her. “I’m sorry. My brother just got shot. I gotta get back to Markham.”

  Her eyes widened. “Shot?”

  “Yeah.” He stood at that, rearranging his junk since things had shifted around. A lot.

  He headed for the hallway, stalked into the living room and grabbed his borrowed leather jacket from the sofa. He took another swig of the beer she’d opened for him, just to clear his head from her, then turned back to the door. She was waiting beside it, tying her dress closed and staring at her feet.

  He liked her rumpled and disheveled. The hair was even hotter, and the color on her cheeks made her twice as attractive. His dick throbbed again, painfully, and he probably winced as he pulled on the jacket. “Sorry Gertie,” he said softly, approaching and taking her hand in his. “Trust me. It’s taking something pretty damn serious to pull me away.” He lowered his mouth close to her. “I’m not done with you yet, though. The next time I see you we’re going straight to bed and not coming up for air until I’ve felt every inch of you.”

  She shuddered as he kissed her, and he had to grin. “I’ll be calling you, Gertie. I promise.” Then he was out of her apartment and snapped back into business mode. Someone shot a brother, and that shit couldn’t stand.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shit. Double shit. Mother fucker.

  Gertie was calm letting Buck walk out the door, but the second it clicked shut behind him she let out a growl of frustration and stomped her foot.

  She actually stomped her foot like a petulant teenager, her range of emotions all out of whack. Never in her entire life had she been that turned on. Lost. Overrun with desire. And to have the orchestrator of it all walk out the door before she had a chance to see it through was beyond frustrating.

  It was agony.

  She leaned against the wall, willing her heart to get back to its regular pace, closing her eyes and clenching her jaw tight. She could still feel his hands on her, hot and rough, forceful, thrilling. Her skin tingled from every contact, her breasts still ached for more attention. And the second his tongue had hit the part of her that wanted it most she saw white light, paradise, carnal perfection.

  In the past under that treatment she was usually pretty certain she’d never finish. She couldn’t relax enough, so she’d just let them know it felt good then beg them to give her the goods because she couldn’t wait.

  With Buck she knew she would have finished. Absolutely. And it wasn’t because she was comfortable. If anything, it was the exact opposite. She’d been completely out of control, and it all started with just that kiss. One kiss and she’d been warm, wet and willing.

  Gertie sighed and untied her dress. She sullenly stalked back to her bedroom, tossed her dress in the hamper and removed her bra then her sodden panties. She returned to her living room, returning to her purse and pulling out her wrapping papers then picking up the baggie from where Buck had dropped it. She rolled another joint then took it and a lighter to her washroom, also grabbing the ashtray after
a moment of hesitation. Gertie set the plug in the tub drain and turned on the water. Sitting on the closed toilet she lit the joint, watching the tub fill. When the tub was half full she crushed the joint’s cherry in the ashtray before sinking into the hot water with a sigh.

  She was restless, and as the pot made its way into her blood stream she sat up, shut off the water and tried to relax. But she couldn’t. With an embarrassed flush to her cheeks she lowered her hand between her legs. At that first touch she gasped, eyes rolling up into her head, but there was no stopping. A few soft strokes and she was undone, whimpering and arching her body in the water, her toes curled tightly, biting her lip almost hard enough to bleed.

  She waited for the wave to pass, then opened her eyes, taking in the room around her again. No one knew what she’d done, but there was a shame to it for some reason.

  Buck gave off a bad-boy vibe, but was he a criminal? She doubted it. He’d kept Jim away from her, and when she’d thrown her drunk ass at him he’d turned her away, citing her intoxication as a reason to wait. She couldn’t equate him as someone who would be a danger to her.

  Still a stranger, though. Someone she was basically in knots over, just to have a one-night stand. A few years ago the idea would have seemed insane, but now? Now Gertie was just happy that something had kicked through the numbness and broken her out of it for a little while.

  She finished her second joint of the late afternoon, or evening, or whatever this was, and dried off before pulling on flannel pants and an oversized sweatshirt. She returned to her living room, grabbing her now warm bottle of Heineken and taking a swig of it, turning to her sofa and knowing it was too much to hope that something interesting would be on television. Before she could flop onto her furniture she caught sight of the painting hanging overhead and paused, wondering when she’d actually last looked at it closely herself.