Call Me Wild

by Robin Kaye

  “Beats the hell out of me. With you looking at me like that, I’m not thinking about anyone’s pleasure but ours.”

  She slid her hand up the inside of his leg, and his dick jumped and seemed to get even larger.

  “Jessica. You’re playing with fire, darlin’.” He tugged her to her feet and kissed her hard as he unhooked her bra with one hand. His other pulled her shirt up and off. He stared at her, his eyes bright and dark and just a little too intense. She checked the urge to cover her breasts.

  Her bra straps fell off her shoulders and hung in the curve of her elbows as he slid her jeans and panties down over her hips and took her hand as she stepped out of them. He didn’t even blink. He just continued to stare, and the longer he did, the more she felt like a fool. She knew what she looked like—her stomach was way too muscular, and her thighs were too big—all muscle, but still, they weren’t the kind of legs most guys drooled over. In her experience men only wanted women who had big boobs, a small waist with a sexy belly—women with soft, womanly curves and no definition. She didn’t do curves or softness. Hell, she didn’t do much when it came to the whole woman thing.

  She’d never been modest before. After all, she’d trained hard to achieve the fitness level she had, but she couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her like he wanted to eat her up instead of just picking her for his team. It was disconcerting—almost as disturbing as the way her body reacted to his gaze as if he’d touched her. They’d only kissed a few times, and she was primed, ready, and way past needy. She’d never done needy until she’d met Fisher. She didn’t see it as a plus.

  “God, you take my breath away.”

  The way he said it, it didn’t come out sounding like a compliment. It sounded more like a curse, but then she wasn’t even sure of that. If she hadn’t seen his lips move, she’d swear she imagined it. The only time she’d ever taken anyone’s breath away was when she tackled him in football. “It’s a body, Fisher. Mine is nothing special.”

  “If you believe that, you’re a fool. You’re every man’s wet dream. I should know.”

  She opened her mouth for a smart retort, but Fisher was faster out of the blocks. He came at her, all two hundred pounds of hot man—mouth-to-mouth, chest-to-chest, thigh-to-thigh. Flames licked her skin followed by the edge of the bed. She went into a free fall, landing and sinking into the down cover with Fisher on top.

  He ate her mouth with commanding diligence. Gone was the gentleness, displaced by a controlled burn. The heat of his body melted hers. His hands roamed, shooting sparks of pleasure and need wherever he touched. He trailed kisses down her neck, licking and sucking as his hands explored her arms, sides, and back, before pulling her thigh over his hip. She heard herself moan as his erection pulsed against her core when he sucked her breast into his mouth.

  Jessica was on sensory overload. Her back arched as her hand cupped his head, trying to make sure he didn’t escape. Her womb tightened with every pull at her breast.

  She couldn’t seem to get enough air. He switched breasts, and his erection brushed over home plate and had her writhing and moaning beneath him like a cat in heat. She couldn’t take much more. She wrapped her legs around his waist and raised her pelvis, reaching for completion, anything to uncoil the knot of need.

  Fisher groaned and slid to her side. “Slow down, darlin’, we have all night. Hell, I don’t have to be back until Tuesday.” His kiss was soft and teasing, but she wasn’t in the mood for that. No, she wanted mindless heat.

  She flipped them over and straddled him. She meant business. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, swirling around his, before she released it and nipped his lips. His fingers speared through her hair, massaging her scalp as she dragged her teeth down his neck to his collarbone, exploring his chest—nipping, licking. Muscles danced beneath her lips as she licked a trail over his abs, traced the ridges and valleys, and dipped into his navel before heading south.

  Encircling his erection, she ran her lips over the length of it, feeling the heat, the hardness, the life pulsing through him. God he was beautiful. Swirling her tongue around the head, she tasted him, catching the drop of wetness. Oh yeah, she had him exactly where she wanted him. She opened her mouth to take him in, just as iron vices closed over her arms, dragging her against him, flipping them over. His mouth came down on hers, and all the air left her lungs. The sound of something crashing registered as she squirmed beneath him.

  Fisher knocked the damn lamp off the bedside table in his haste to get a condom. He ripped his mouth away from Jessica’s, and still holding her down, felt around the bottom of the drawer. His finger brushed the crinkled edge of a foil packet, and he almost cried with relief. At the rate he was going, he’d be lucky to last another five minutes. He’d never been with a woman who turned making love into a full contact sport. She definitely wasn’t the type to lie there and make him do all the work, and Lord, when she tried to take charge, he’d been tempted to just let her go for it. If he didn’t have such a hair trigger right now, he would gladly have let her take full advantage.

  “Let me help.” She reached for his dick and the condom.

  He whipped the condom out of reach. “Darlin’, if you do any more to help me, it’s going to be over before it’s begun. As it is, I’m just going to give you a blanket apology and swear I’ll make it up to you next time, and the time after that, and the time after that.”

  He sucked air through his teeth as he rolled on the condom. His hands shook, and he wished he knew what the hell was going through her mind. She was unreadable. Sure he knew she was turned on, but when it came to anything other than the physical, he hadn’t a clue. And he wanted to know what was going on behind those chocolate brown eyes.

  Shit. He was supposed to be romancing her. God, he was such an ass. He’d forgotten all about that the minute she shoved her hands in his pants. Now what was he supposed to do?

  “Something wrong?” She sat up, and for the first time he saw some real emotion. He would have preferred it not be insecurity, but at least that was a starting point, a connection.

  “I just remembered I’m supposed to be romancing you, and I’m doing a terrible job of it.” He leaned over and kissed her. “I’m sorry.”

  She let out a brittle laugh; the insecurity was still there. She pulled away and scooted toward the other side of the bed.

  “Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” He wrapped an arm around her.

  “Out of here.” She tried to push out of his hold. “Look, it’s fine. I’ll just go sleep in Karma’s room. No apology necessary. I know I’m not your type, and well, it was just research…”

  “You think I’m rejecting you? Hell, I was apologizing for my lack of finesse. Any thought of romance flew out the window the second you grabbed my ass. I wanted you so bad I acted like a Neanderthal. That’s what I was apologizing for. Jessica, you deserve better.”

  She stared at him with wide eyes. “You were worried about finesse?”

  “Yeah. It’s right up there with performance anxiety—for which, I should remind you, I’ve already offered a blanket apology.”

  Her lips twitched, and that golden spark in her eyes reappeared. Thank God. “I have no problem with your performance so far.” The tension left her body, and she allowed him to pull her against him as she nuzzled his neck. “I’ll let you know how I feel about it once I have a full understanding of your methods and practices.”

  “Methods and practices, huh? No pressure there.” He pulled the covers down and laid her back against the pillows before kissing her, long and slow. He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “You don’t think you’re my type? What would my type be if not you?” He kissed her chin and moved on to her neck.

  “I don’t know—someone girly. You know, big breasts, stick legs, not a lot of muscle.”

  The pulse point on the side of her neck thrummed beneath his lips as his hand slid over her breast, her nipple pebbling beneath his palm. “Your breasts are perfe
ct, and you’re sexy as hell—beautiful and strong. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Your body is spectacular. It would be great if you’d let me keep my dignity once in a while when we’re running, but that’s just my male ego talking.”

  His mouth captured her breast, making it impossible for him to talk. He sure as hell hoped she was better at reading body language, because that was all she was going to get for a good long while. He wasn’t coming up for air again, until he did every one of the things he’d dreamt about, even if it killed him. And it just might.

  ***

  Oh God, Jessie had thought she was in trouble when it looked like he was rejecting her. But then, she was more mad than hurt, though hurt would have come later. What he did now was worse than she’d ever imagined. It made his possible rejection look like child’s play.

  Fisher worshiped her body—something that never had happened to her before. What was she supposed to do? He held her like she was a precious artifact, stroking and kissing and teasing. Drawing her up so tight, she’d swear she was going to implode, and then soothing her with his lips and tongue as if they had all night to touch and explore.

  Every time she made a move to return the favor, he gently, but firmly, put her in her place, which was flat on her back. Finally, he held her hands above her head and stared into her eyes. His were dilated, dark, and so intense. “Just hold onto the headboard until I say so. Okay, darlin’?”

  She was too dumbfounded to even answer, plus he picked just that moment to slip a finger inside her. Her body shook, and she keened like a wild animal, bucking against him. He pressed his thumb against her, and it was as good as flipping a switch. Her orgasm crashed through her, rolling like an earthquake, shocking her with its intensity and strength. She threw her arm over her eyes. God, it had been a year since she’d had sex… maybe longer. She didn’t exactly write it on her calendar. It hadn’t been that memorable.

  His touch soothed, as she rearranged the shattered sections of her brain, tried to control her breathing, and released the death grip she’d had on his hand. She was just about to roll onto her side to either thank him or apologize—she hadn’t decided which should come first—when he slipped between her legs. She opened her eyes and expected to see him hovering over her. Wrong. He wasn’t above her at all.

  He was down there, and… “Oh God, yes.” What he was doing with his tongue, teeth, and hands was probably illegal in several states. He drove her back up so fast, she was glad she had the headboard to hold on to. “Fisher?”

  He mumbled something, and the vibrations from his mouth, his voice—whatever it was—sent her flying.

  She called out his name as he entered her in one swift thrust, filling her completely and triggering her orgasm, which rolled into another and shot her onto a plane she’d never visited, no less knew existed. Nothing in her experience had ever come close to this. She wrapped her shaking legs around his hips and dragged him closer as wave after wave rolled through her… through him.

  “Jessica, you feel amazing.” He kissed her softly as her body relaxed. She seemed to have lost the ability to move. Her arms slid from around him, and if her ankles weren’t hooked around him, they’d be history too. She felt like a lump of clay—heavy and inanimate.

  Fisher stared into her eyes as he rocked within her, slowly, gently, and with such tenderness, she had to look away.

  Her mind raced trying to figure out how to please him when she was incapable of movement. But Fisher seemed to have the magic touch, and before she knew it, her fingers were sinking into his back, her heels digging into his butt.

  No matter how much she demanded, he teased her with his slow, steady pace, just fast enough to have her on edge, but not hard or quick enough to throw her over.

  He had her riding the sharp edge of madness, her heart pounding so hard she’d swear she was bruising something. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she tilted her pelvis, clenched every muscle, and pulled him deep.

  Fisher groaned, his face contorted with pleasure or pain, she wasn’t sure, and then he went wild, pistoning his hips, pounding her, hard, deep, and so damn good, she swore she saw stars. His whole body tensed, and he let out a pretty inventive string of curses before thrusting three more times and collapsing on top of her.

  Jessie was in serious trouble. She covered her eyes again and did her best not to cry. She was scared, confused, and she couldn’t think of a nice way to distance herself from Fisher long enough to pull herself together. He was lying on top of her, with his face in the crook of her neck.

  She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, even though she was sure she’d lost her mind. She hadn’t cried in years, and she had absolutely nothing to cry about. She told herself to suck it up, but every time she did, even more tears welled in her eyes, and blinking them away wasn’t cutting it.

  Fisher kissed her lips, and she let out a shuddered breath. Pinpricks of guilt shot down his spine. “Jessica? Sweetheart, are you okay?”

  She nodded, but then with her arm thrown over her eyes, even with the moonlight shining on the bed, he couldn’t tell for sure. He gathered all the strength he possessed and rose onto his forearms, which pressed him deeper within her. He did his best to ignore the way it felt and his body’s instant reaction.

  “Jessica, honey, please look at me.”

  She shook her head no, and bit her lip. He wanted to turn on the light, but he’d trashed the lamp earlier. Well, damn. Prying her arm away from her face was like Indian arm wrestling, but he won. Shit. He’d known something was wrong, but he hadn’t expected this. Not for a million years. “Why are you crying, darlin’?”

  She snuffled, and the tears continued. “I’m not crying. I don’t cry.”

  Fisher kissed the side of her face and caught the tracks of her tears. “Tastes like tears.”

  She let out another shuddered breath, and it was as if another hole in the dike appeared. For a woman who wasn’t crying, the tears were sure flowing.

  She slammed her fist down on the bed. If he hadn’t had her pinned, inside and out, he was sure she’d be stomping off somewhere. Damn she was fascinating—beautiful, intelligent, and at times, amazingly clueless. “Sometimes a physical release spurs on an emotional one. Maybe you just need a good cry.”

  Crying didn’t bother him. His brothers and cousin would rather have their left nut removed than deal with a woman’s tears, but he’d spent the last six years in hospitals where tears of grief, happiness, pain, and exasperation flowed around the clock. A mother’s grief was the worst. Nothing in his experience could compare to that.

  “I’m not crying. My eyes are leaking. There’s a big difference.”

  “Okay, sure.” He slid his arm around her and rolled them onto their sides. He might as well get comfortable. In his experience, when women who weren’t normally criers started crying, they made up for lost time. Yeah, he had a strong feeling she’d be at it awhile. “Since your eyes are leaking, you might as well just let it go.” He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

  “Yeah, that’s what sucks about this. You’re right here, and my eyes are leaking. God, this is embarrassing. You probably think I’m a nutcase.”

  “Because you cry after amazing sex? I think you’re a nutcase because you tried to drive a car with a five-inch clearance up a jeep trail, and I’m not even going to mention your diet.”

  She finally looked at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my diet. I can outrun you any day of the week.”

  “Yeah, but then your hamstring cramps because you don’t get enough potassium. Face it, Jessica, if you ate better you’d perform better—it’s basic.”

  She ran a hand down his chest. “I didn’t hear you complaining about my performance.” She wiggled, and his dick reacted as if she’d just given it CPR. Her eyes widened, and for a second there, he wondered if she was fishing for compliments. Hell, she was definitely worthy of them, but he’d always been a big believer of action
s speaking louder than words.

  Her kiss was slightly salty—warm and open and deep. She nudged them both over, straddled him, and sat drying her eyes with the backs of her hands, showing off her inner six-year-old. God, she was a wild combination of hard and soft, cynic and innocent, all wrapped up in a perfect package of a lean, mean, sex machine. “Um… sweetheart, if you’re going where I hope you are, we need to grab another condom.”

  “Um sure, but before that, I’m hungry. That peach thing you made smells amazing. Would you mind—”

  “Feeding you? No, just as long as you tell me what you were thinking of doing with that ice cream earlier.”

  She bent over and kissed him, tears and embarrassment apparently forgotten. “How ’bout we go and get some, and I demonstrate?”

  Chapter 9

  Jessie opted to grab the first T-shirt she could get her hands on, threw it on, and escaped into the kitchen, since crawling under the bed like a wounded cat to die of embarrassment wasn’t an option—not with Fisher watching her every move. She reheated their coffee and took the ice cream out of the freezer in an effort to hide her mortification.

  Fisher strolled out wearing nothing but his Wranglers, zipped but not buttoned, and looking sexier than any man had a right to, even with the dark rings under his eyes. Rings that were probably put there from spending sleepless nights like this with other women. Not that she expected him to sleep with just her. Okay, well, yeah, she did. Maybe they should have gone over the rules before she agreed to play the game. And dating was a whole new game for her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She tugged the cover off the ice cream. “Nothing. I’m just hungry.”

  “And you’re a rotten liar. Whenever something’s wrong, you get this crease between your brows.” He smoothed it with his finger. “So you might as well spill it.”