by Jan Moran
Oh, as if just going on would be easy?
“I’m sure,” she said, watching him swirl his finger in the wine, “you’ll notice hints of mineral in this one, too…”
“That wet stone taste,” he said.
“Right. But then there should be a lot of fruits again—”
Her words suspended, and so did her pulse, when he casually reached over and rubbed his finger over her bottom lip. She couldn’t say anything as he went further, spreading the liquid all around her mouth. Then he slipped his finger inside of her.
It was as if lust had split her in half, one side telling her to suck at him, to give in all the way. The other side was urging her to take this slow, to enjoy him as much as she would a fine, rare vintage that she had stumbled upon out of the blue, unexpected, unbelievable…
Deliberately, he slid out of her, leaving behind the flavors of the wine and his skin.
“What do you taste, Leticia?” he asked.
“Watermelon. Raspberries.” She swallowed. “You.”
Smiling, he negligently stroked down her bare arm. He dipped his other fingers into the wine again, coming back to cover the same strip of skin he’d just touched with cool, wet contact.
“Guess it’s my turn to see if this stuff is any good,” he said.
He lifted her arm, bending his head to the crook of her elbow. He skimmed his tongue into the cove there, then licked his way up to the wine trail. Her skin vibrated in the aftermath, her nipples pebbling, her clit feeling as if it was knotted up and it needed to be untied.
“Yeah,” he said against her arm. “I like it just fine.”
With practiced ease, he swept his fingers to the side of her dress, where the hidden zipper held the material together. The sound of the zipper being undone filled her ears, competing with her heartbeat, mocking the low moan that threatened to escape her.
He slid his hand inside, where she was bare, without a bra. He cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple.
She went weak, and if she hadn’t already been buzzed from earlier, her head would’ve spun now, anyway. Desire slathered her between the legs, and the sensual knot there only pulled itself tighter. And when he used his other hand to push away the hair from her ear, she braced herself for a kiss there.
When it came, she bit her lip, bending her knees, swooning, even if she’d never swooned before.
My God, he could make her swoon…
As he gnawed at her ear, she could feel him peeling the material off until it gaped away from her chest. The air hit her flesh, making every cell feel as if it were puckering, reacting.
She sensed him reaching for more wine, and when he stroked it over one of her nipples, she did moan. She groaned. She didn’t care how desperate she sounded.
Then he licked her, tasted the wine, tasted her.
“Watermelon,” he murmured, his breath against her nipple, making her grip his arm in absolute agony. “Raspberries…”
She felt her pulse between her legs now, hot, hard, tugging at the knot that threatened to bust itself apart as he laved her. At the same time, he cupped her other breast, kneading it gently. Each erotic motion was a knife in her, twisting, trying to untangle her with its blade.
And, for the first time in Leticia’s life, she welcomed every bad thing about it.
Chapter 9
It could’ve been the fight earlier in the night that’d revved up Colin. It could’ve been the way Leticia had smoothed her hands over his wound, bandaging him up afterward.
It could’ve just been her and her alone—not the beer, not the wine.
Whatever it was, he couldn’t get out of its grip as he tasted her with his tongue, circling her nipple, sucking and getting even more intoxicated. At the same time, he caressed her other breast, then roamed his hand downward, over her ribs, her waist. He took the rest of her dress along with him while she made tiny, provocative sounds that prodded him onward and ratcheted up the pressure in his cock until he thought he was going to explode.
She wasn’t stopping him, either, and with every bit of skin he uncovered, she responded all the more fervently, gripping his shoulders, urging him on with her sounds and the slight wiggle of her hips.
Inspired, he reached for the wine glass, delving into it with his fingers again, cupping some of the liquid and getting his hand nice and wet so he could coat her stomach with the rosé. He bent to lick that off of her, too, then when he was done, he lifted her, pressing her against him with one arm. She was as light as air as she clung to his shoulders.
Keeping his balance, he grabbed the wine bottle itself, then surged toward the kitchen counter, depositing her on top of it. She reached over her head, plastering her hands against the cabinets as he fumbled with her belt, tossing it away, then tugging off the rest of the dress over her thighs, her calves, her feet. Discarding the material, too, he paused, absorbing the sight of her.
She was slim, as athletic as he’d first guessed, as if she jogged every morning from the hotel rooms she stayed in during her travels. Her legs seemed to be miles long, especially in those polka dot pumps.
He stripped off one of them, then the other, all the while watching the excitement in her eyes. Then, he took the wine bottle and bathed one of her feet with the rosé.
She sucked in a sharp breath, and he lifted her foot, laving at her instep.
“Mmm,” she said, as if she were the one tasting the wine.
As he traveled up to her toes, she arched off the counter, bracing her other foot against his arm.
“Yes,” she whispered, just before he sucked her big toe into his mouth.
He swirled his tongue around it while one of his hands slipped down the inside of her leg, parting them. When he found her most tender spot, he nudged her with the heel of his palm.
She gasped, and he cupped all of her, possessing her. He could feel her damp heat through the white lace of her panties, and it was all he could do to slow down, just as she’d told him to do earlier in the wine cellar.
Have you ever slowed down to really taste something? she’d asked him.
Now was a good time to follow her advice.
He sucked off of her toe, then poured most of what was left in the bottle over her pussy, getting it even wetter. The liquid stuck to the panties, showing her pink folds through the lace.
Pink. He was really forming an appreciation for everything that was pink tonight.
He carefully brought both of her legs over his arms, then gave her a smile that wasn’t joking in the least. It was hungry, maybe even a little dangerous for two people who’d only met hours ago. But there was something about Leticia that made him want to know more about wine, about grapes, about…her.
She was panting now, and she had a wicked glint in her gaze, too. An invitation.
Come on. Do it, she seemed to be saying.
He made himself slow down even more, thinking of how she had instructed him to taste the wine in just the right way.
First, hold your glass correctly. Prepare yourself for a drink.
As he reached over to her, she wrapped her leg around his arm, clinging to it. He took two fingers and started at the bottom of her pussy, rubbing up through the lace of her panties, feeling her slickness, then feeling her aroused clit.
She gave a violet moan, shifting her hips, and he knew that he’d prepared her.
Second step: swirl.
He coasted his fingers up higher, to the top of her underwear, then inserted them inside, dipping into material. As he delved into her folds, he caught her mouth with his for a lazy kiss. Down below, he slipped up and into her pussy, bringing her hips off the counter again.
Then he swirled, wondering how thick the juices inside her were running, betting they were hot and sweet.
She pulled away from the kiss, biting her lip, closing her eyes, her expression pained in a pleasurable, delectable way. He nipped her jaw while his fingers worked her until she churned beneath him, moving with every one of his strokes.
“Buzz…” she said, trailing off with a smile.
And that brought them to the next step. The big drink.
He yanked at her panties, ripping them away from her. Just as she was gasping again, he lowered himself to where he could get a good taste of all that pink in front of him.
She smelled of the fruit in the wine, and of her own sexual arousal. He separated her and ran his tongue up, tasting.
And, damn, he was never going to get anything better than this.
He put his mouth on her again, sucking, running his tongue around her clit, listening to her groans rise and fall and rise again until…
One of her hands dug into his hair, pulling at it as she came, so wet and wonderful that he kept his mouth on her the whole time, wanting to take in everything, knowing that he couldn’t last as long as those wines he’d seen stored in the cellar at the Ruby Room.
He was too ready, his cock pulsing, needing release, and he brought her all the way off the counter, pulling her into his arms as he moved out of the kitchen and down the hallway to his bedroom.
The curtains were open to let in the moonlight as they fell onto the bed in wild abandon, her without a stitch on, him with too damned much on.
She just about tore his shirt the rest of the way off of him then went for the buttons on his jeans. She pushed at them, and he helped her, barely getting them down his hips before she was pulling him back to her.
“Wait,” he said, digging in his pocket, coming out with a rubber.
She didn’t ask why he had one so handy. She must’ve known more about the Rough & Tumble than she’d let on, must’ve assumed that if he was falling into bed with her, he would do it with anyone.
But that wasn’t true. She wasn’t like the others.
Now wasn’t the time to analyze why, not with his nerve endings on fire, scorched by every move she made as she stroked his cock, sending red and white bubbles crashing over his vision. And after she slid down his body and he felt her mouth on him…
He didn’t remember seeing anything but bliss, whatever that looked like. Soon enough, even that had turned into a shower of sparks that he could see and feel as she slipped the condom over his length and tugged him toward her.
“Now,” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate, ramming into her, hearing her gasp louder than ever, and it was the type of sound a champagne cork made when you first began to ease it out of the bottle. Then everything was a slow wave of motion as he pumped into her, her fingernails gouging his arms, her mouth against his neck, where he could feel every damp breath against his already damp skin.
He felt as if he had been caged all this time, and when he came, it was with a brutal release, one that she stroked away with her gentle hands on his back, on his hips, all over him as he fell back to earth.
She touched him almost as if she were soothing away a fever, a hangover, a raging need that he had only discovered tonight, and he held her close, catching his breath.
It could’ve been the sex that did it, but for the first time in Colin’s life, he saw a future that didn’t involve fast women and fast nights.
All he saw was Leticia.
Chapter 10
“Buzz,” Leticia said. “There has to be a story behind that name.”
They were still in his bed, and as she waited for him to respond, she snuggled into the pillow she’d commandeered. It smelled like him—tobacco, musk, leather—and she wished she could drink it in as if it were bottled. But Buzz was far more elusive than that. Even if he made a habit of putting on a playful act, she’d seen how much he cared for his youngest brother, how much it bothered him to have Jonsey spend the night in a holding cell.
Yet Buzz had obviously worked everything out while he’d given her the most pleasure she’d ever felt in her life.
Right now, the moonlight covered him, the pale tint kissing his beautiful body, even where the bandage covered his thick arm. But she looked him over everywhere, not just there: She gazed at his wide shoulders, his chest, his flat stomach, his belly. Below that, the sheet covered him, and she thought about sliding her hand beneath the cotton to explore even more.
Then afterward…
Well, it’d be that much closer to the hour when she had to go back to work, to see how the wine list at the Ruby Room had gone over with the soft opening clientele, to make adjustments, if needed. She also had a tasting to plan for a businessman in New Orleans who invited guests from all over the world to experience the rare wines in his collection.
The thought of leaving Rough & Tumble in her rear view mirror just when she’d gotten a hint of what freedom was like left her a bit blue, but she kept telling herself to make the most of the rest of the night, to savor it.
Buzz rolled onto his side, the sheet falling away to show his happy trail and a hint of the rest of him. She felt herself flush, but his immodesty made her think that she could be that way, too, if she had more time to develop that ability.
“The origin of my name isn’t the kind of interesting story you’re thinking it is,” he finally murmured with a grin.
She was getting too used to his smiles, as well—how warm they were, how lively. “You know I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t interesting.”
“Even if I’m not a gigolo?”
“I told you—I’m relieved that’s the case.” Even if she’d gotten a bit wanton tonight and acted as if that’s exactly what he was. But she’d gotten the best of both worlds with him: wild times and no strings attached.
None at all.
Offhandedly, he reached over and rubbed his knuckles over the side of her breast. The casualness of the moment sent a spike of lust through her again, making her think it was no big deal that she’d come here and spent the night with him. As if she could do it anytime she wanted to.
“My friends started to call me Buzz when I played baseball in school,” he said. “I was a pitcher, along with Cruz Gonzalez.”
“Really?” Before Cruz had started making country music with Sophie Quinn, he’d been a professional and an All-Star…and, evidently, a teammate of Buzz’s.
“Really. They said my fastball was enough to give the batter a buzz cut on its way past, and that’s where the name came from. It stuck, even though I never played again. I ended up working the ranch with my dad and the staff after graduation.”
“So what’s your real name?”
“Colin. Colin Burton. But if you want to keep calling me Buzz, that’s your prerogative.”
She wouldn’t be calling him anything in a matter of hours, but she didn’t want to talk about that.
He kept stroking her breast, and she closed her eyes, wallowing in the decadent sensation.
He spoke quietly. “You know just about everything else that’s important about me. Two brothers, a healthy social life at the Rough and Tumble, all that.”
“Speaking of your brothers, if you need to check on Jonsey, you can do that.”
She didn’t know why she’d said it, but she wanted him to do what he had to do. Most of all, though, she wanted to give him support, because it was something she thought they might have in common, something deeper than she’d even had with boyfriends who’d lasted far longer than a night.
“Jonsey’s on his own tonight,” he said with no trace of amusement whatsoever.
His hand dropped from her. Damn. Had she gotten too personal?
When she looked at him again, she saw something distant in his gaze, and she wanted to touch it, to bring him back to her.
“Believe me,” she said. “I understand what you’re going through. I told you my family had its own hell raiser to deal with.” She paused, wondering if she should continue. But, tomorrow, they would be going their own ways, so why not say it? “My brother, Miguel, was always a troublemaker as far back as I can remember. He was years younger than I was, so I kind of grew up knowing that I needed to give my parents the least trouble possible because it was all they could do to handle him. He demand
ed nearly all of their time.”
Buzz—Colin—watched her, and she couldn’t remember anyone ever listening as intently, not even when she talked to an avid collector about wine. Warmth spread through her, and it had nothing to do with sex.
In fact, it felt like…Well, was it wrong to say that it felt like sunlight? That it felt as if something could grow and flourish under such attention?
She grew quiet, not knowing where the emotion was coming from. Okay, probably from the afterglow and the remnants of the alcohol, but it was still enough to think twice about continuing.
Colin finally spoke. “You talk about your brother like he’s not here anymore.”
“He’s not.”
“Shit, Leticia, I’m sorry.”
“No, it happened years ago.” She sighed. “Miguel started off doing dumb things with his friends: shoplifting, staying out past curfew and having the police bring him back home. Then he went on to bigger stuff, like stealing a car. I have no idea why he needed to do all of that. If someone were to look at my family from a distance, they would say we were as close to perfect as you can get, but Miguel seemed to take great satisfaction in throwing a wrench in that.” What an understatement. “People used to call him a bad seed, and that seed destroyed us.”
Colin didn’t say anything.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she said. “Maybe it’s because I saw your face tonight after your brother was hauled off, and I saw something much too familiar.”
“What would that be?”
She rested her hand on his arm. “I spent years wondering how I could’ve been a better daughter or sister, but I wasn’t the one who needed to clean my life up—it was Miguel. And when he got in a fight with a ‘friend’ one night and that ‘friend’ knifed him to death, I mourned. I told myself that I could’ve saved him somehow, but that’s when I realized that there was nothing I could’ve done. I see that you might be thinking the same thing. You still actually think you can save him, but it’s not your decision, Colin. It’s his.”