“People like dangerous weather,” she insisted. “Deadliest Catch, Ice Road Truckers.”
“What are those? Shows?”
“You’ve never seen them?”
I shook my head no. “Youth hockey. That’s a big deal here. Everyone watches the games. That’s boring TV.”
“Friday Night Lights. People love small town sports.”
She wasn’t listening to reason. I ran a hand through my hair. She followed my movement like she wanted to run her hand through my hair. Fuck, this was hard. You know what else was hard?
I needed her out of my workshop before I did something stupid. “You can’t film a reality show here.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a terrible idea.”
“You think it’s a terrible idea. But that doesn’t mean it’s a terrible idea.”
“Why would you pick Watson?” I tried.
“I don’t know exactly, I didn’t do the branding.”
“Branding?”
“Brand research. Identifying a location that would promote the targeted attributes and assets.”
Targeted attributes and assets. What the fuck was she talking about? She had some great attributes and assets, though. And in the course of our talking she’d taken a step or two closer, as if she felt it, too, the irresistible pull. It got stronger the more we tried to push each other away.
She was close enough now I could reach out and wrap a hand around her waist. Her lips parted again as she looked up at me, and I could see her breathing quicken. I balled my fingers into fists so I wouldn’t grab her.
“What are you talking about, Violet?” My voice had grown husky and quiet. Less combative now, I asked, “Are you listening to yourself talk?”
She looked up at me and confessed softly, “I don’t want to talk.”
I grabbed her before I could think about it, before my brain could stop me from doing it. My mouth found hers in an instant and she kissed me back, passionately, hungrily, her hands running up my biceps and along my chest as if she’d been dying to touch me. Groaning, I sank into her, tipping her head back, licking her neck, cupping her incredible ass and pressing her against me.
She wrapped her legs around my thighs as I lifted her up and she clung to me, panting as she clawed at my shirt and kissed my throat. I carried her, still kissing her the whole way, and rested her down on my lathing table. She lay back on it. The sight of her there, eyes glazed, lips glistening from my kisses, her hair spread out along the wood. I’d made some fine art over the years, but nothing near as beautiful as her.
Bringing the palms of my hands along hers, I pressed them into the table on either side of her head. Her fingers intertwined with mine and she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Violet,” I murmured, worshipping her with my kisses, dipping down and again like a drunk, needing another and another taste. With her arms stretched up, her sweater slid up, too, exposing a patch of her stomach. I traced a path with my fingers, along the edge of the waistband of her jeans, up and around her belly button. She panted and twisted at my touch. I leaned down and kissed her skin, so soft, so delicious.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come here today,” I whispered, circling her belly button with my tongue. I’d half expected her to not show up, to think better of it. I was glad she’d made the wrong choice.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, giving me a naughty grin. “Did you think I’d be too scared of you?”
“You should be.” I cupped a hand under her ass and pulled her closer toward me, then stroked the inside of her thigh. It felt so right, her legs spread wide open, her luscious body laid out before me.
“I’m not scared of you,” she said, but her voice sounded more breathless.
“Maybe you should be.” I watched her as I worked my fingers up her inner thighs, closer, stroking and teasing my way up.
“Why? Are you the big bad wolf?” From the gleam in her eyes, she almost seemed to like the idea.
“Maybe. I would like to eat you up.” My thumb stroked right along the seam of her jeans. I could feel her wet heat, her arousal calling to me. Pressing into her, right where I knew she could feel it best, I leaned down and licked her stomach next to the still-fastened button of her jeans. I wanted her to picture it, feel how good it would be, as I swirled my tongue along her lower stomach and pressed against her throbbing clit. “What do you think, Violet?” I murmured, blowing against her wet skin, making her shiver. “Do you think you’d like it if I ate you?”
BRING! Announcing itself with an aggressively loud ringtone, my cell phone went off in my pocket. With a groan, I dropped my forehead to her stomach. It did put me right where I wanted to be, so close to her pussy still all buttoned up but we could take care of that real quick. My phone rang again and she sat up, shaking her head as if waking from a dream.
“You should get that,” she said, running a hand through her hair. I wanted to be the one running my hand through her hair. My phone rang again.
Right, I should get that. Reluctantly, I took a step back, pulled the phone out of my pocket and swiped to greet Harriet.
“Mmm hmm. Yup. Right.” I nodded, keeping it to one-syllable responses. I wanted this call over with. Meanwhile, Violet picked herself right up and off the table. That wasn’t where I wanted her.
I clicked the phone off, flicking it to silent. No more interruptions.
“Who was that?” Violet asked, focusing intently on my lathing table. Never had a woman been more interested in a lathe. I knew what she was doing, looking for a distraction. I’d show her a distraction.
“Harriet,” I answered, coming up behind her. “She wanted to make sure I hadn’t thrown you out.”
“I should go,” Violet agreed, but she didn’t move. Now I stood directly behind her, not touching yet but I bet she could feel my body heat.
“You should go,” I agreed. “You should leave Watson.” I brought my hand around to her side, cupping it gently at her waist. She drew in her breath and leaned back into my chest.
“You want me to leave?” she asked, breathless again. I loved her response to me, how the slightest touch got her so hot. Her sweater was thin enough I could see her breasts and her stiff, pointed nipples. I remembered how good they’d felt in my mouth, under my fingers, between my teeth.
“You should leave.” I brought my face down to her hair, like golden honey. I rippled my fingers through it, watching the light catch and fall along her waves.
“What’s this?” she asked, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out to the machinery on the table.
“This is a lathing table. To make grooves and cuts in wood. You want to try?”
“Could I? Yeah.” She turned and gave me a smile. I picked up a discarded piece of wood.
Standing behind her, I reached my arms around, placing my hands on hers. “You lay it here.” I guided her smaller, delicate hands with my large, rough ones. I could hear her quick, shallow breaths. Never had lathing felt so sexy. “You feed it in here.”
I turned the machine on and helped her bring the scrap up. Under my direction, she turned it 360 degrees to make a groove all the way around. Flipping the machine off, I held the piece up for her to admire her handiwork.
“Not bad for a beginner.”
“Wow! That’s so cool!” She took the piece of wood and held it up, looking at it from all angles. “I’ve never done anything like that.”
I couldn’t help it. She’d drawn her hair all to one side and I still stood behind her, her neck exposed to me. I had to sink my mouth down to her skin again. I had to kiss her shivering skin, had to slowly lick her as she panted softly, and when she arched into me, pressing her ass against my thick thigh I had to bite.
“Ah!” she cried out, but she didn’t break away. She wound her hands up to my shoulders, my hair, pulling me toward her. She wanted more.
“You taste so good.” I buried myself in her neck, licking along her collarbone.
“You feel s
o good,” she moaned, flipping around to press against me, bringing her lips up to mine as if she couldn’t stop herself. She threaded her fingers through my hair, wanting more. My hands down around the swell of her ass, I brought her up against me and she wrapped her legs around my hips. In a few steps I had her up against the wall, pressing her there where I could hold her tight and fast and right where I wanted her.
“Heath,” she moaned, fisting my T-shirt in her hand, raking her nails along my back. I ground into her as I kissed her mouth, her jaw, her ear.
Low and dirty, I whispered to her, “Have you thought about what I did to you Saturday night?”
She closed her eyes and moaned her response. “Yes.”
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
Eyes closed, breathing fast, she managed, “Mmmm-hmmm.”
“I liked that, too. But now I want more.” I pressed my thick, full erection against her. Through my worn jeans she could feel how big I was, how hard I was for her. I wanted to fuck her like this, up against the wall, pounding and dirty. I bet she’d come when I entered her, spreading her slick, wet walls, burying myself up in her deep.
“Yes,” she panted, so ready. I brought my fingers down to her pussy, stroking her along her jeans where she’d soaked right through, so hot and wet.
“I bet you taste so good.”
She moaned, dipping her lips down to my throat. “I want to taste you, too.”
My cock swelled even harder at the thought. I didn’t know if that’s what she meant, but man I could picture it, her kneeling down before me, those perfect lips opened wide. I’d give it to her gently, ease my huge cock down her throat. Her eyes would open up and water a little at my size. I was a big man. But I bet she’d take me all in and then I’d feel her sucking me down, so eager, sucking wet and hot and licking.
BRING! What the fuck? I thought I’d turned my phone off.
“Shit.” She swore, her legs unwinding off of me and her hands moving down to my hips to push me away. “That’s my phone.”
She disentangled herself and walked over to her purse. She took out her pink rhinestone cell phone. Why did I have to get reception in my workshop? It wasn’t always so good in my cabin. Next time, I’d have to bring her to my cabin.
“Yeah,” she answered, looking away from me, straightening herself out. Pulling her sweater down and smoothing her hair.
What the hell was going on? There wouldn’t be a next time in my cabin. I shook my head, feeling like some evil magician had cast a spell on me. Why did I keep attacking her like that? Why did she love every second of it?
She said a few more one-syllable words, then ended the call and tucked her phone back into her purse.
“Sam,” she informed me. “He was checking to see if you’d thrown me out.” She looked down at her shoes. “I should leave.”
“You should go,” I agreed. I watched as she shrugged into her giant parka and picked up her purse.
She walked toward the exit, and I followed to see her out. At the door, she paused. I reached around her and grasped the doorknob. I could feel her respond to my nearness, see her bite her plump bottom lip and sway slightly as if her knees almost buckled. I brought my other hand to her hip to steady her.
We both stood there, motionless. I could have her naked in sixty seconds, spread on the floor planks, my face buried in her pussy. She’d come and then I’d slow down, lick and suck and play with her. I’d get her off, give her what she wanted, what she needed. Then I’d take my time, licking and sucking and eating her, tormenting her, building and teasing. I needed to taste her come on my tongue.
“Go,” I managed to breathe.
She left.
CHAPTER 9
Violet
In the center of town, a bunch of kids gathered together playing in the snow. A fresh layer had fallen that morning and now, in the afternoon after school, they’d gathered together in their mittens and boots and hats. Their laughter billowed up into the air, infectious. I smiled as I watched them play.
“We can’t go too wholesome.” Sam sidled up next to me, a steaming hot coffee in his hands, plus one for me.
“Thank you!” I brought it to my lips, grateful to the core. The coffee from the local shop was so good. I was already an addict.
“We get too wholesome and we lose our viewers.”
“I know.” But my voice came out a little wistful. A reality show built around cute kids building snowmen wouldn’t sell. But, look, now a golden retriever was frolicking by their side as they tossed around snowballs. Kids being kids. How about that?
So far, the Ideal Vermont Itinerary designed by Mayor Marty was making a better impression on me than I ever would have guessed. I’d seen covered bridges so picturesque I couldn’t believe they weren’t a Hollywood set. The local youth hockey coach was a Hottie McHot Hot and he had a winning team on his hands with tons of heart and compelling backstories. The local ski mountain was hilarious. They didn’t make snow, didn’t groom the trails, didn’t allow snowboarders. The people there were so cranky and cantankerous they’d be a perfect side storyline.
And then there was the food. There was the diner with the scones and the woodfire pizza place, and it turned out that even though there were only a total of five restaurants in the town every single one of them was fantastic. The local hard cider got better and better every time I tasted it, which I planned on doing again tonight.
Friday night, y’all! A few from the little crew Sam and I were scouting had insisted we join them at the local bar tonight. The same bar where I’d met Heath last weekend.
I hadn’t seen him since Tuesday afternoon at his workshop. I took a sip of my coffee. Memories of Heath warmed me up even more.
Uninterested in the children, Sam’s gaze roamed the quaint little town. A church, a library, a post office, all charming wooden buildings painted red or white. He shook his head.
“We need something more juicy.” He didn’t care so much about the charming town. He wanted some sex he could sell.
“I know,” I agreed again. “But I’m liking what we’ve found here more than I’d thought.” At first I’d wanted to leave as soon as I’d arrived. But now, six days in, I thought we should stay at least another week, maybe two. There might be a show in Watson. I kept hearing my boss’s voice—he wanted something that had never been done before. Something new. I wasn’t convinced yet, but I was further along than I ever would have guessed.
“There’s something here,” Sam echoed my thoughts. “But I’m not sure it’s enough.” He turned to me. “What about that hottie woodworker? The one who made the rocking chair?”
“No,” I dismissed the idea, maybe too quickly. I didn’t want to arouse his suspicions. “He’s not interested in getting involved.”
“We should work on him. Butter him up.”
“I don’t think so.” It was more than Heath’s resistance that made me say it. I didn’t want to share him with anyone.
“Ratings!” Sam gave me jazz hands.
Holy hell, he was right about that. Heath was a hit show in a heartbeat. He was so sexy he should be illegal.
I hadn’t seen much porn in my life, and what I had seen hadn’t turned me on. But if I were to shoot a porno, I’d start it out exactly like I’d first seen Heath Tuesday afternoon. Cue a huge, muscular man in a workshop with a helmet and a blowtorch, worn jeans hugging his powerful thighs and ass, thin T-shirt straining at his biceps. He was so fucking big. My mouth had nearly dropped open. I’d just about gone straight up and licked him, asked him to take me right then and there. That was how pornos went, wasn’t it? No plot or character development, just straight to the sex? Totally unrealistic. Unless you could cast Heath in the starring role.
Thankfully, he’d been holding a blowtorch. Even powerful lust didn’t blind me to the fact that startling a man while welding was a bad idea. You couldn’t just go straight up to a man and start humping his leg while he held an open flame. Without the blowtorch, though, it wou
ld have been on.
We’d come so close. But for those blasted phone calls, we would have gone at it all over his workshop. Every surface, every wall, on the floor, against the tables.
Oh my. Good thing he didn’t have my number and I didn’t have his. I’d avoid seeing him alone from now on. Because if I did want to recommend that the network do a show here—and I was starting to think maybe, just maybe I did—the last thing, the very last thing I needed was some sort of messy thing with a local. And not just any local, a local who hated everything about our project. A local who seemed dead set against us having anything to do with Watson.
And yet as much as he hated the idea of a reality show, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of me. Even as he’d told me to leave, he’d pulled at me to stay. And wow did it feel so good to stay, wrapped in his arms, pushed up against the wall, his fingers already getting me close even through the barrier of jeans.
“Maybe we’ll see him tonight.” Sam took a sip of his coffee. I took a sip of mine, not saying a word.
§
That night, I got ready to go out telling myself I wasn’t getting ready to go out, not like that. Not like you did when you hoped you’d see a certain guy. I was just getting ready in a general sense, not selecting lingerie with the hope that Heath would tear it off of me later. That would be bad. I looked myself in the mirror and promised myself that if I saw him, I would try my hardest not to jump him. It would be difficult, though. He was so huge and brawny.
I saw him the second I walked into the bar. The kindergarten teacher was all over him. Apparently the 1950s cheerleader had some non-G-rated moves. She was draped on him like a fucking dishrag. I wanted to toss her into a laundry basket.
“Welcome! Sam and Vi!” Mayor Marty greeted us like old friends. He wanted this deal. Even as he sold us hard on his small, charming Vermont town I got the feeling he was good and ready to leave the town behind for bigger and better things. “Let me buy you a round!”
I ordered the Applewood cider, of course, and did my level best to completely ignore the man so hot he set the corner of the bar on fire. What were they doing over there, playing darts? As if she needed any help to throw a freaking dart. He was guiding her hand toward the bullseye. Bullshit, that’s what it was.
Untamed: (Heath & Violet) (Beg For It) Page 9