One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  “How big is the Heron?”

  She turned in her seat, a stance he was getting used to. She seemed to need to face him when she talked. “You know just how big it is. I read the will, same as you did.”

  Spatially, he had a good idea. He’d been in the business long enough, but a feel for the converted house was different from what was in pictures and the not-so-impressive brochure he’d found online. It showed the square footage and the room rates, but it didn’t give him jack shit about what the Heron was all about.

  He glanced at her. “What’s your favorite part?”

  She smiled, and her eyes sparkled. “The dock. There’s a path that leads out to where we keep a few kayaks and things, but at the end of the dock, there’s a platform that I love to sit on. It’s got a lot of space for Adirondack chairs and loungers.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “I want to restain it and seal it this spring. I’m hoping to make it a little oasis for families to hang out by the lake.”

  “And there’s a good amount of people that come to stay?”

  Her gaze slid out to the rows of evergreens that lined the road and dotted their way up the cliffs that layered in front of Yosemite Mountain. “We get plenty of business.” The pleasure faded from her voice.

  “That’s a good thing, right? Turning a profit is the point of running a business.”

  “Of course.” Her voice was cool. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of that profit margin.”

  “We’re partners now, Kendall. Eventually we’re going to have to figure out if we want to stay partners or sell the Heron.”

  “Oh, I know. Can’t forget about the master plan.” She reached around into the backseat and drew her charger out of the pocket behind her seat. She plugged in her phone and folded her feet under herself. The light clicks of her typing were pretty clear.

  Subject closed.

  He focused on the signs for the highway. The endgame was a very real aspect of their relationship. He forgot that last night. It was far too easy to do when Kendall was in his space. Reminding her had been a dick move, but it was as much for her as it was for him.

  The next two hours were a lesson in silence. The radio was useless in the middle of the desert. “If you’re not going to talk to me, could you at least reach in the back and get my CDs?”

  She looked up. “Hmm?”

  “What are you doing on that phone?”

  “Reading.”

  “On that little thing?”

  She shrugged. “The first hour of flat desert was all I needed to see.”

  Since the dotted lines were blurring for him, he had to agree. “If you don’t want us to go off-roading, then put some tunes on.”

  She unclipped her belt and reached over the seat. “Where is it?”

  He swallowed a groan. Her denim-clad ass was far too tempting. What kind of freaking aphrodisiac did she have in her perfume? Fucking apples. “Should be right on the floor.”

  “You do realize I’m five-two, right?”

  “Can’t reach?”

  “Hold my leg.”

  “Christ,” he muttered. “We’ll just pull over at the next rest stop.”

  “Really? You’ve got forty-five miles in you with static?”

  No. He did not. “I thought you were reading.”

  “I was paying attention. I like to know where I am.”

  He slid his hand between her legs and gripped her behind her knee. “Okay.”

  Her hip hugged up against his shoulder. “Almost got it. Just…there.” She flipped up and tossed her head back. Her hat fell off, and all that hair exploded. His hand was lodged between her thighs.

  Fuck.

  He tried to pull his hand away, but she didn’t budge. In fact, she tightened her muscles.

  “How about we make a little pact?” She slid his CD case across his chest, her fingers splayed over the leather.

  Wary, he met her gaze. “What kind of pact?”

  She ran her cheek along his jaw and into his neck. “The Heron is waiting for us. That’s a fact of our situation. But let’s just enjoy these next few days. We’re just two people on a road trip.” She grasped the edge of his shirt and pulled it up, letting her nails run over his belly. “I like how you make me feel. How you make my body feel. Can we worry about that?”

  His cock swelled behind his zipper. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Nope. This is kind of new for me. I’ve never had a fling. Winchester Falls isn’t exactly the type of place that you have no-holds-barred, no-strings, no-second-guessing sex in. Most of the men have known me since grade school.” She traced the skin between his belly and chest and found his rosary. “Been there, done that. At least with the ones who interested me.”

  He groaned. Her fresh innocence warred with her words. Of course, so did the wild excitement in her eyes when he tied her hands behind her back. What would she do if he used an actual tie and not her sweatshirt? Would she let him?

  With one hand on the wheel and the other in her hair, he tried to concentrate on the road. “Is that what you want from me?”

  She ducked her head and circled his nipple with her tongue. “We’re both unattached.” She nipped the hard tip. “You seem to want me as much as I want you.”

  Not possible. If he had his way, she’d be naked, and he’d be inside her as often as humanly possible.

  “So I was thinking we could just have fun and worry about New York when we get there.” She moved down to his belly, her tongue swirling around his navel. She thumbed open the button of his jeans. “Now keep your eyes on the road.”

  “Kendall.”

  She tucked two fingers from each hand into his zipper and peeled it back. He swore as she cupped her tongue around the head of his cock. Her hair slid along his belly, and her warm, moist mouth sealed around the tip of him. And then she sucked.

  He drew in a deep breath and bunched his fingers into her hair.

  The light sting of his grip faded as quickly as it came. She wrapped her fingers around the base of him and lay across the bench. The rumble of the powerful engine, the intimacy, and the thrill of giving this man a blowjob in the middle of a stretch of desert kicked her heart into a gallop. She reached farther into his jeans and cupped his balls as she painted the underside of his shaft with her tongue. Salty and soft, his skin was addictive. The twitch of muscle and vein under her tongue, the moist air of her breath, and finally she took him as deep as possible.

  She looked up, her hair tangled in her view. The granite line of his jaw, the way his Adam’s apple worked, and the erratic tic of his pulse at his throat—all of it made her nipples bead and her pussy throb. He was so stoic, so incredibly closed off until she had her hands on him. The minute they met skin to skin, he was hers. She hummed around his cock.

  Mine.

  His fingers tightened in her hair again, and she felt rather than heard the deep growl from his chest. She freed him from her mouth. The steering wheel dug into her shoulder, and the zipper pinched the side of her hand, but she wouldn’t stop until his cum filled her mouth. She wanted him at her mercy as she was at his mercy most of the time.

  His hips shifted under her. His body was an instruction manual where his mouth never would be. She let him go and drew his sac into her mouth and looked up. The tendons in his neck were in stark relief. She hummed again, and his Adam’s apple bobbled. Fascinated with his body, she slid her palm up his belly and splayed her fingers, higher and higher until the cross tickled her hand and then finally her wrist.

  She bobbed her head, taking a little more of him with each pass. Her name was a guttural rumble that was ripped from his chest. She dug her nails into the hair-roughened skin that stretched over his chest as the first splash of his cum hit the back of her throat. His fingers twisted into her hair, and the pain was a final signal.

  She pumped him until he was empty, and his taste was hers.

  Until the moment faded and his body relaxed. She watched each piece
of him unfurl—shoulders eased, his neck relaxed, his tendons faded. All except his ironclad jaw.

  She tucked him back into his jeans, let him adjust himself for comfort, and laid her cheek against his belly. His skin was hot to the touch as she nuzzled along the silky hair over his ridge of abs. She pushed his shirt up until she could taste the warm skin at the middle of his chest. The beads of his rosary so familiar and comforting. She pulled his shirt down and rose onto her knees to trace her lips over his neck and behind his ear.

  “The best part of a road trip.” She nipped his ear and backed herself up and into her seat. His eyes blazed fire in the evergreen coolness. So rough around the edges, so determined not to show an ounce of just how pretty he was, but nothing could disguise his amazing hazel eyes.

  Instead of letting her sit down, he dragged her back and latched his mouth over hers. Surprised, she gripped the dash. “Shane!” She laughed into his mouth.

  He pulled her hair until her neck was displayed for him. He glanced at the road and drew the tip of his tongue along her neck and to her ear, the same way she’d done to his. Her pussy clenched. Being manhandled shouldn’t turn her on like it did. Damn that man.

  His fingers slid out of her hair and down her back. “That’s not going to be enough.”

  No. Enough didn’t seem to be a word they could associate with each other.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw the sign for a rest stop. “Just how fast were you going?” How long had she gone down on him?

  He nipped her ear. “I have no idea.”

  She smiled and eased back to her side of the couch. “I think we could use a break.”

  He nodded. His fingertips dug into his thigh. She wasn’t sure just what there was between them beyond the sexual napalm but decided not to care at the moment. She needed to clean up and get a fresh pair of panties on. The man was hell on her wardrobe.

  The last few miles were quiet. She squirmed in her seat. She was way too worked up for giving a damn blowjob. It was more for him than for her. Then why was she ready to crawl out of her skin?

  “Sunshine.”

  Her name was a growl. The first time he’d called her that, it had made her heart melt; now it was going to short-circuit her brain. She was fairly sure he didn’t realize he’d used his nickname for her again. Sanity said she should put out the little flare of hope, but she couldn’t.

  “Yes, Oscar?” She couldn’t stop the grin when his cheeks flushed.

  “You need to stop that.”

  “Stop what?” She shifted again.

  “We don’t have time for more than a drink and bathroom run.”

  She crossed her legs, using the seam of her jeans to ease the ache. “That’s fine.” Did her voice come out more a moan that time? The buckle held her hips into the seat, but if she tightened her inner muscles and pulsed just a little…

  He coasted into the rest stop. She glanced at the dash. It wasn’t even noon yet. The eateries, gas station, and little kiosks outside were teeming with people. He parked away from the rest of the cars, leaned over, and unbuckled her, then hauled her across the seat by her waistband.

  He buried his mouth into her neck and against her ear. “Are you sitting there getting yourself off?”

  She trembled. She’d never been so close without touching herself. “Maybe.”

  He pulled her up against him, his arm curling around her hip from behind. His long fingers slid into her stretched-out jeans. “Just rest against me. All we’re doing is cuddling in the truck.”

  “You don’t seem like a cuddler.”

  “Really? I believe it was me you wrapped yourself around last night.”

  She couldn’t deny that. She’d never slept more deeply in her life. She chose to think of it as the fresh air and not his strong arms.

  She looked out the windshield. Families, couples, grandparents—it was the middle of the day. Why were there so many people around? It was a workday. The kids should be in school. At the river they’d been alone. Here, people would know.

  He flicked open the top button and used his knuckle to nudge down her zipper enough to get into her panties.

  She arched. Cripes, she was so freaking close. All it would take was a touch. He gripped her hip. “We can’t do this if the entire parking lot knows, Sunshine.”

  He turned her hips out at an angle so his hand could slip deeper. She gripped his wrist, her nails biting into his forearm. She tunneled her fingers into his hair with her other hand, dragging him in closer to her cheek as he dipped two fingers into her.

  “Were you really going to get off without me?”

  She groaned. She didn’t know if she had that kind of bravery. She’d taken care of herself when the need arose but never in front of someone. What would it be like to watch him watch her?

  “Christ, you are fucking dripping. Just from making me come?”

  She concentrated on the slow circles he made with his first and middle fingers. On holding still and letting him take her where she needed to go. She had gotten off on giving him pleasure, but the thought of him watching her get herself off? She clenched around his fingers. “Shane.”

  “Tell me, Kendall.”

  “Sunshine,” she said through gritted teeth.

  His prickly jaw scraped against her cheek. “Did you get off on getting me off, Sunshine?”

  She pulsed. She wanted the full feeling, wanted more than just his fingers. She wanted him deep inside her. Wanted all that hard, ridged flesh filling her up. She choked out a breath when he stopped.

  “Tell me.”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me out loud.”

  Her head fell back against his chest. “Yes.”

  “Yes…what?”

  “Yes,” she lifted her hips a little, and he pulled out of her. “No.”

  “Tell me, Kendall.”

  She rolled her hips under his hand. “Inside me, Shane. I’m so fucking close.”

  He smoothed his fingers over her panties ever so lightly. “That’s not what I asked. I wanted to know why you’re so fucking wet.”

  She stared straight ahead, every muscle locked. “I liked your taste. I loved hearing your growl through your chest and it vibrate on my tongue with your cock in my mouth.”

  “Jesus.” His hand slid back into her panties, followed by two fingers curling deep inside her.

  She sucked back a breath and fought the need to jerk her hips up for more. “Watching your face, knowing that I was the reason—” He ground his palm into her clit, and she couldn’t speak around the cresting bliss. With his chin buried in her neck and both of them facing the parking lot, the world fuzzed around the edges. She slammed her eyes shut and let the pleasure take her.

  His name a prayer, an oath, and a promise.

  She sagged against him and dragged in oxygen. His chest heaved behind her. They were going to kill each other before New York. She slid across the bench seat and reached for her bag. Everything was swollen and sensitive. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his arms and soak in the afterglow.

  Because she wanted it so bad, she made herself move. Made herself open the door and take a shaky step out onto the pavement. This was supposed to be good fun. Nothing else.

  Nothing else.

  Ten minutes later, they were back in the truck with drinks, snacks, and another five hours ahead of them. More desert, more flat roads and the endless dotted line, more time in Shane’s truck. More time to want him.

  Shane’s music was hit-or-miss. As the desert swallowed hours and the sun streamed through the cab of the truck, her sound track included an obscure Rush album, Def Leppard, and a double live album from Metallica. She managed to fall into a book on her iPhone. This time it was a companionable silence instead of awkward.

  At least she assumed so. Shane wasn’t talking, but he did tap along to the beat on his steering wheel. Nevada melted into their rear view.

  “Are you sure we can’t go to Red Rock?”

  �
�It’s a little bit outside of Las Vegas. That would add on another full day to our travel.”

  She sighed. As much as she wanted to see one of the most amazing views of Nevada, they definitely couldn’t afford that kind of extra time. She scrunched down in her seat and tucked her feet up on the bench. “So much for that idea.”

  “We’ll get a few good scenic areas once we hit the middle of the country.”

  “You’re right.”

  She settled back in with her book, and when he put in another Metallica album in, she snatched his CD case out of his hand. “My turn to pick.”

  “Driver’s choice.”

  “Then let me drive.”

  “No one drives my truck but me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you guys in a special relationship?”

  “You wouldn’t reach the pedals without blocks anyway.”

  “Shut up.” She flipped through the case. “They’re all your CDs, so I should be able to pick something else.”

  “I like Metallica.”

  “So I see.” She got to the end of the case and flipped back to the beginning. “You do realize you were born in the eighties, right? Your formative years have to be the nineties.”’

  “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “Dio?”

  “Don’t dis Ronnie James Dio, woman.”

  “How could I? He’s from upstate New York. We protect our own.”

  “That’s better.”

  She grinned. “But what about this one?”

  He glanced at her choice. “‘Wind of Change’ is a lyrical masterpiece.”

  She ejected Master of Puppets and slid in the Scorpions’ greatest hits and cranked the sound. She sang—loudly and about as off-key as she could manage. When she got a laugh out of him, she sang louder. “Rock You Like a Hurricane” was a perfect anthem song.

  The sudden swerve of the truck and the pop followed by a screech of brakes and Shane’s arm slamming her back into the seat happened so fast she didn’t have time to scream. They rocked to a stop, and the truck slowly listed to the right. The next track on the CD belted out a song she’d never heard about loving hard all Sunday morning.

  Then silence when Shane cut the engine.