Finally, a knock at the door. I was at it in two seconds and there she stood, her gorgeous face beaming out of that ridiculous parka.
“You needed the hood up to walk from the car to the front door?” I had to tease her. She’d adjusted pretty well over the last few weeks, trading in her heels for some sturdy boots and even taking some joy in her wintry surroundings. But she really was a wimp when it came to the cold.
“Let me in!” She rushed in past me, excited for the warmth of my cabin. And maybe to see me, too.
I closed the door behind her.
“Want something to warm you up? Some hot chocolate? I could fix you a drink?” I started heading to the kitchen but I didn’t get far. Her arms wrapped around me and she pulled me to her, her lips finding mine fast.
“Yes, I want something to warm me up.” She giggled as she kissed me and I was happy to oblige. Turning to her, I scooped her up in my arms and walked her over to a countertop where she’d be right up to my height and we could take our time. I sat her down and unzipped that blasted parka—though it had come in handy more than once. I was glad she hadn’t traded in her thin, soft sweaters for the heavier, woollier Vermont variety. I had such better access with the kind of flimsy, translucent tops she wore.
“How’d it go today?” I asked, kissing her earlobe, tracing my tongue along her neck. I’d discovered some of her more sensitive spots and loved exploiting them like a ruthless pirate. Making her shiver and moan had become my favorite pastime.
“Got some good footage at the brewery.” She turned her attentions to the top of my Henley shirt, kissing where she could and then unbuttoning to get access to more. Clothes never stood much of a chance around the two of us.
“You done, then?” I asked hopefully. She’d mentioned the possibility of needing to do a little more filming tonight, add some whipped cream to the sundae they’d put together. I had better ideas of things to do with whipped cream.
“Mmm-hmm.” Her hands up and underneath my shirt against my bare skin, she spread her palms over the expanse of my chest. She moaned, half caressing, half grabbing onto me. “Heath, you’re so big!”
Big did you say? My cock stood at attention, pressing and ready, and there was no hiding this massive wood. I wore a pair of athletic pants and the thin nylon didn’t stand a chance. She reached her hand out and found me, stroking my length through the fabric.
“I missed you today,” I told her, already heavy-lidded and husky with desire. I reached my hands out along her thighs, and she parted for me as I stroked.
“You make me so crazy!” She pulled my elastic waistband down and my cock sprang free. The sound she made deep in her throat when she saw it, thick and erect, made me even harder. I was so much bigger than her I still couldn’t believe she could take me all the way in, but when something worked so perfectly you didn’t ask why. You just took off your pants and entered the party.
Once I had her naked, I gripped her bare ass cheeks with my large hands and brought her right up to the edge of the counter. The sight of us together, her pussy so pink and flushed and glistening wet, my cock thick with veins and tense for release, it was almost like a drug. The only thing better was sliding into her, feeling her tight, slick heat fisting around my shaft.
“Fuck!” I cried out, easing my way in, feeling her adjust to my size. I knew I was a bastard for it, but I loved seeing the look on her face, the wide-eyed shock at my girth. It wasn’t the discomfort I caused her that turned me on. It was her eagerness at overcoming it, her desperation at working her way down on my cock and taking all of me in. We fed off each other, she and I, our mutual arousal stoking the fires even brighter.
She leaned back on her elbows, and I brought her feet up and over my shoulders, first one, then the other. I had her good and firm in my grip, my hands grabbing a strong, firm hold on her ass so I could fuck her deep.
“That’s so—!” Her words melted into a cry as she threw her head back, eyes closed and kept her legs spread nice and wide.
“Deep,” I finished for her, burying my cock to the hilt. My balls slapped up against her, our skin slick as my rhythm increased. Keeping my hold on her with one hand, I brought the other up to play with her clit.
“Heath!” She screamed out as I pressed on her swollen, aching bud, circling and pushing, working in time with my thrusts.
“I want you to come for me baby,” I told her, relentless. “And pinch your nipples for me when you do it.”
She groaned, easing herself back down on the counter and bringing her hands up to cup her tits. So full and plump on her slender frame, she had the best breasts I’d ever seen, and so sensitive. Her thighs quivered, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.
“That’s it,” I praised her, watching her grip her breasts, her fingers pressing in. She liked an edge to her lovemaking, just like I did. Not too sweet, not too rough, just the right mix of both. “Now come!” I commanded, gruff, and damn if she didn’t comply like a good girl, her ass bucking right off the counter as she smashed her pussy into my cock, grinding her clit into my thumb. She pinched her nipples, hard, like I’d told her, her mouth open in a full scream of pleasure.
I started working in earnest now, taking her peak and working it right back up into another one. My balls ached, filled with come. Now that we were going bare, it nearly drove me insane to come right inside of her.
The noises she made, grunts and whimpers, let me know how hard she was working to take all of me in, to get off again on my cock. She pressed her palms down against the counter for more purchase, so she could tilt her hips and push back into my thrusts. So desperate.
“That feel good, baby?” I murmured, both hands now up to her hips to bring her back down again and again onto my huge cock, fucking her relentlessly. She moaned, her eyes rolling back, her breasts jiggling from my thrusts. “You like how I fuck you?”
“Yes!” she cried out. The dirtier I talked, the more turned on she got. We made a great team.
“I like watching how hard you work on my cock,” I told her, watching the sweat glisten on her body. She groaned, opening her eyes to look up at me.
“You going to come again for me?” I asked, feeling it build up in me, the intense release rushing up so close to the surface.
“Yes!” She bit her lip, watching me fuck her, fascinated, fixated on my giant cock glistening and coated by her own juices, slipping and sliding fast and demanding again and again into her pussy.
“You ready for my come?”
Her eyes closed again and her mouth opened with a scream of pleasure. It reminded me how she’d opened up her mouth and sucked me so good in the back of the store yesterday. She’d sucked and swallowed every last drop.
“Fuck!” I exploded in her, gushing come deep into her molten center. She quivered and climaxed around me, crying out and gasping. It felt like I came and then kept on coming, wave after wave pounding up and through me, driving deep into her, and she kept taking it all.
Finally I dropped my hands down to the countertop and rested my weight on them. I was used to brutal workouts. I liked that feeling of physical exhaustion and frequently pushed myself to the point of collapse. But sex with Violet made my workouts look like child’s play.
She looked up at me, dazed and flushed and magnificent.
“Hey.” I smiled at her and gave her a full kiss. Even the feel of her slender fingers winding through my hair did me in.
“I don’t know what you do to me,” she murmured, sounding amazed.
“Pretty sure I know what I just did.” My grin widened with male pride. She brought it out in me. She cuffed me gently on the shoulder.
I picked her up and walked us over to the shower. I’d turned her comment into a joke, but I knew what she meant. This thing we had between us, it was good and it was real and I didn’t want her to get on that plane tomorrow.
We washed up and she slipped into my favorite outfit on her—my T-shirt, oversized and sliding off one of her shoulders, no
bra and just a little lacy pair of her panties. We started fixing ourselves some dinner. Had I had my planning hat on earlier today, I would have figured out something impressive to make her seeing as how it was her last night in Watson. But I’d been so consumed with wanting to see her again instead of planning how to make it perfect when I saw her again that we just cooked up some bacon to make ourselves BLTs.
“You’d think I’d be a better cook,” she laughed, narrowly missing cutting herself as she sliced the tomato. “I did it every night in high school.”
“But you probably haven’t done much since?”
“No, no one cooks in L.A. At least not anyone I know.” She got to talking, telling me about her life there, the hectic pace, how hours would typically pass before she remembered to eat. Sounded to me like she needed someone to take care of her.
“How’re you feeling about heading back there?” I had to ask. It was on both of our minds. How could it not be?
Her voice grew more quiet. “You know, when I first got here, I couldn’t wait to leave. Now?” She looked up and her eyes glimmered with the hint of tears.
“Hey, now.” I took her in my arms and held her close.
“I don’t want to say good-bye,” she murmured, sounding little and muffled in my chest.
“Who said anything about good-bye?” I kissed the top her head, breathing in her honey vanilla scent. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
She smiled up at me and brushed away the sadness with her hand. “If everything goes the way I hope it does Friday, they’ll be sending me back to start production.”
“That right?” I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Toast popped out of the toaster and I turned to grab it. “So, you think they’re going to go for it?”
“I have to pitch it just right.” She crossed her arms against her chest, a determined gleam alighting in her eyes. “But I know we could do a cool show here. I just have to convince them.”
“Won’t be their typical type of show, though, will it?” I didn’t want to cloud over her hopes, but I had to admit, as much as I loved our little town of Watson, I didn’t see any pitch selling the Fame! Network on a cutesy homespun warm and fuzzy show featuring eccentric Vermont townsfolk and their fabulous brews, food and crafts. Violet might be in for a let down.
“No, it won’t but that’s what they want!” she insisted, undeterred. “They want something new and fresh! I just have to show them this is the right direction.”
“OK, I’ll let you sort that out.” It wasn’t up to me, anyway. The way I saw it, we had a win-win on our hands. If the network passed on her pitch, Watson would stay the same off-the-radar hidden gem it always had been and I’d hunt her down, anyway. This wasn’t over between us, not by a long shot. But if the network said yes, Watson’s business owners would get some PR and I’d just need to lay low for a few months. I was good at that. Plus, Violet would be back in town so laying low would be exactly what I wanted to do, for hours on end.
But there was something back in L.A. that I very much did consider my business. “I do want to know about this guy you’ve mentioned a couple of times. Victor, Vinny…?”
“Vincent.” She studied her tomato once again.
“You’re not seeing him anymore, right?” I didn’t know what had gone down between them in the past, and from what she’d said it hadn’t been serious. But whatever they’d had? That was over. Call me a Neanderthal, a brute, a caveman, it didn’t matter. I didn’t share.
“No, I’m not.” She shook her head, then looked up at me. “What we had was…nothing, really. I’m not even sure I need to break up with him.”
“Do it just in case.”
She laughed. “He’ll probably be like, ‘who’s this?’” I had a difficult time imagining any man not remembering Violet. The mere thought of someone else touching her had me wanting to rip his head off with my bare hands. “I’ll do it, Heath.” She reached her hand over and stroked my forearm. She must have seen how much I hated the idea of another man in her life.
She told me more to reassure me, about the hookup culture of L.A., about how no one took anything seriously. “Things like monogamy or intimacy, they’re totally uncool. What’s cool is hooking up and not remembering the person’s name the next morning.”
I took her hand in mine and looked straight into her eyes. “I’m not like that.”
She swallowed and flushed again. “It’s never made me happy,” she admitted, looking guilty at the revelation.
“Why would it? It sounds awful.” I knew those kinds of people, the ones who selfishly rampaged through life, treating everyone else like a potential acquisition. I hadn’t missed them at all in my solitary years.
She nodded in agreement, but still looked uncomfortable. In a quiet voice, looking at the floor she added, “I’ve never…I’ve never gotten serious with anyone before.” I grabbed her glass of wine, my beer and steered us over to the couch. The BLTs would wait. Putting our drinks within reach on a table, I wrapped an arm around her and nuzzled behind her ear.
“Tell me what’s on your mind.” Something was worrying her and I wanted to work it out.
She started talking and unloaded a whole lot, how she’d dated a bunch but always kept herself in reserve. “I guess my mom kind of scared me off guys,” she confessed, but instantly corrected herself. “I mean, it was a good message. Be independent, self-sufficient. But there was also that—don’t count on men because you can’t trust them.”
I nodded. My mother had definitely felt that way after finding out about my father’s infidelity. She’d remarried, but to a stodgy old lawyer so formal and stiff he might as well be a wooden post. The light had gone right out of her eyes at my father’s betrayal, and as far as I knew it had never come back.
“I know something about that,” I agreed, stroking her hair, so soft and smooth like silk.
“You do?”
I nodded. “Getting scared off of relationships by your parents’ mistakes.” I didn’t talk much—make that at all—about my family and background, but I wanted Violet to know I didn’t think she was some kind of emotional freak. And she made me feel so good, so relaxed and happy and trusting, I felt like I could talk to her about anything and everything.
“Have you every gotten serious with anyone?” she asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ve dated. And I’ve slept with some women I probably shouldn’t have.”
“Bitches,” she hissed.
I laughed, enjoying her jealousy. “Only time I thought I felt serious before was in college. Until I overheard her making fun of me.”
“She what?” Violet pulled away, indignation lighting up her eyes, claws out and at the ready. I liked that look on her, too, the protective she-demon with a vendetta.
“It’s OK, baby.” I rubbed her shoulder and pulled her to me again. “I don’t care anymore.”
“What’d she say about you?” Violet relaxed a little, but still sounded pissed off.
“She called me a caveman.”
“A caveman?”
I shrugged. “At the time it mattered. Now I could care less.” I leaned down to kiss her. She reached her hand up to stroke my cheek as she kissed me back.
“You are kind of a caveman,” she teased.
“I do want to drag you into a dark cave,” I agreed, dipping lower to lick and suck on her throat. I could feel the vibrations when she moaned, how her desire welled up from deep inside of her. “I could keep you here and never let you go.”
She raked her nails down my bicep as she sighed, “I’d like that.”
“I wouldn’t go easy on you.” I toyed with her, my fingers circling around her pebbled nipples. Lightly, I brushed over the tips, enjoying the way she sucked in her breath, how she bit her lip and looked at me, so sultry and hungry all at once. “I might tie you down and see how far I could push you,” I murmured, teasing her aroused points. “How wet I could get you. How much I could make you beg.”
“Oh!” A moan of desire escaped her lips as I pinched down on her nipples, covered through the cotton T-shirt, yet still so sensitive. This woman got me going like no other.
But then, loud as a tiger’s roar, her stomach rumbled with hunger. Quick, embarrassed, she brought her arms to cover her stomach. “Whoops!” She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast!”
“I need to feed you!” I stood and helped her up, re-adjusting myself to ease the pressure in my crotch. Hammertime would have to wait until after dinner. Then I could get out my gold pants. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
She polished off her BLT like it was on fire sale.
“You all right there?” I asked, as she burped a little into her napkin.
She dissolved into giggles, a tear forming at the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to go back to juicing!” she declared, cracking herself up even more. “I want scones and bacon!”
“Just because you’re flying back to L.A. doesn’t mean you have to go back to juicing.”
“You don’t know what it’s like!” she declared in melodramatic angst, laughing again, then melting into a sigh. “Seriously, though, I’ve gained at least five pounds here in Vermont.”
“Don’t lose any of it. You look amazing.” Her breasts pushed plump and juicy against the soft cotton of my T-shirt. I could still feel her arousal on my fingertips. I itched to get in there again.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” she declared, grabbing a couple pieces of paper from the table that I hadn’t noticed before. “I need you to sign these. We want to use footage from the shop downtown. Just the artwork, not you. But we can’t use it without your permission.”
“Sounds good.” I grabbed a pen and signed. You know what was better than good? Violet coming on my tongue. I hadn’t had any dessert yet, but I knew exactly what I wanted.
Pushing the papers to the side, I stood up, looking down at her wolfishly.
“What?” she asked, fluttery and flushed.
Untamed: (Heath & Violet) (Beg For It) Page 18