Born to Be Wilde

by Janelle Denison

  Then she closed her eyes, whispered his name, and rolled her hips sinuously against his, beckoning him to finish what he'd started.

  He wanted this to last. Wanted to linger and savor and watch her as she came again. His cock, however, refused to take the slow, leisurely route, and because his overly aroused body demanded he do so, he withdrew and surged back into her, again and again, long, hard strokes that increased in power and strength and depth.

  She met him thrust for thrust, moving in perfect rhythm with him as he pumped into her. She slid her hands down the slope of his back, her fingers digging into muscle and flesh as she tried to drag him closer, deeper, with every fluid stroke. She bit his shoulder and writhed against him in wild, reckless abandon.

  Their mating was raw and primitive, a culmination of every desire they'd suppressed, every seductive tease between them, every erotic fantasy he'd had of possessing her just like this. It didn't take long for the heat coiling low in his belly to spiral down to his groin. As if in sync with his body's impending release, her lashes fluttered back open, and she met his gaze, whimpering helplessly as she started to convulse around him.

  Her orgasm triggered his own, and he followed her right over the edge with a rough, guttural groan. His climax was scorching hot, an unbridled surrender of body and soul that left him shaken and stretched across her limp, sated form, his face pressed against her damp neck as he struggled to come back to his senses.

  And when he did, it was with the realization that if this one night was all he had of her, it would be enough. It would have to be.

  LORA walked out of the bathroom after drying her hair and into Joel's bedroom, just as he entered from the hallway with a mug in one hand and a spoon in the other. His gaze took in the long-sleeved, thigh-length flannel shirt he'd given her to wear, sans underwear, and lingered on her bare legs just long enough to remind her of how wantonly she'd wrapped those same legs around him in the throes of passion less than an hour ago. The erotic memory made her skin flush all over again.

  As for him, he'd pulled on a pair of baggy black sweatpants, leaving his well-built chest and muscled arms naked for her appreciative gaze, though she had no problem remembering how equally impressive he was below the waist. He'd taken a quick shower after making love to her, and while she'd opted to dry her hair, he'd combed the damp strands of his hair away from his face with his fingers, leaving it an appealing, tousled mess. He looked hotter and more gorgeous than ever, this incredible man who'd taken such good care of her since the attack and made her feel so safe and secure.

  "I made you some chicken noodle soup to help keep you warm." He lifted the steaming mug he was holding as he approached her. "Why don't you get into bed and beneath the covers."

  She smiled, amused by this take-charge side to Joel, along with the small, concerned frown marring his brows. After their hot shower and now that he'd switched the heater on in the house, she was plenty warm, but she did as he suggested. After pushing the pillows up against the headboard, she sat down on the bed and pulled the comforter and blanket all the way up to her lap.

  "I've got your clothes running through the wash so they'll be clean and dry by morning," he said, and handed her the mug and spoon.

  She grabbed the cup by the handle and dipped the spoon inside, stirring the heated liquid. "You've been busy while I was drying my hair. Who would have thought you had a domestic side?"

  He braced his hands on his hips and shrugged. "I just thought you'd like to be able to wear your own clothes home tomorrow."

  "Oh, I don't know," she said, giving him a playful grin. "Your flannel shirt is pretty darn comfortable."

  Normally, a light flirtatious comment like that would have earned her one of his sexy smiles, and maybe an equally teasing reply. Not tonight. He looked much too serious, and she wondered if it was all worry on her behalf, or was he having regrets about what just happened between them? She certainly harbored none, not when she'd been the one to beg him to make love to her.

  "I should have asked you long before now, but how are your hands?" he asked, smoothly changing the subject.

  "A little sore." She looked at her left palm, which had a few scrapes and scratches from the asphalt, then showed the red marks to Joel. "I might have to keep myself off the books at the spa for a few days when it comes to client massages, but I'll be okay."

  "Good." He nodded and started around the bed to the other side. "Eat your soup before it gets cold."

  She brought the mug closer so she didn't spill, lifted the spoon to her mouth, and inhaled a familiar scent, which was accompanied by a rich broth, noodles, and little pieces of chicken. "Ummm." She swallowed the warmth, feeling it slide all the way down to her stomach. "This tastes really good. Thank you."

  He settled himself on the mattress next to her, sitting upright against his pillows. "I wish it was something better than canned, condensed soup, but it's all I had."

  "I don't mind." She took another bite, realizing that she was actually very hungry. "I grew up eating cheap canned soup, so it's sort of one of those comfort foods for me, if you know what I mean."

  "Your mom never made homemade chicken soup?" he asked, surprise in his tone.

  "Actually, she did. She was a great cook and I loved the fresh, homemade chicken soup that she'd make when either myself or Zach got sick," she said, remembering those happier days, when her mother had reveled in her position as Bill Marshall's wife and her role as mother to two children. "But that was before my father told my mother he was having an affair and wanted a divorce, then packed his bags and walked out the door. My mother was never the same after that, and Zach and I learned pretty quickly how to fend for ourselves."

  He regarded her curiously. "Never the same how?"

  She finished taking a drink of the broth and stared at him in bewilderment. "Zach never told you about what happened with our mother?"

  "Just bits and pieces." He clasped his hands over his bare stomach, drawing her gaze to that taut, lean belly of his and the sprinkling of hair that whorled around his navel and made an enticing trail south. "He mentioned that your parents divorced when he was young, and that both of them had since died, but he never shared details. Whatever happened between your parents wasn't something he liked to talk about."

  Neither did she, because it stirred up a lot of hurt and pain. Even now, she felt old, buried resentment rise to the surface. "What my father did was rough on Zach." And accounted for a lot of her brother's rebellion and reckless behavior when he was a teenager, and even now as an adult.

  "I'm sure it was rough on you, too," he said softly.

  The dark, smoky blue hue of his eyes searched hers, silently offering the kind of comfort and compassion that made her feel connected to Joel, in a way that she'd never experienced with any other man. Startled by that notion, she glanced away from his mesmerizing gaze, scraped out the last bit of noodles and chicken from the mug, and told herself not to read too much into his interest, and his too-knowing comment.

  "It was rough on all of us," she told him. Their father's reckless, egotistical choices had not only devastated their mother and destroyed their family as a whole, but it had also shattered her and Zach's illusion of love and security, as well. "As for me, after my father walked out, someone had to make sure that our lives continued as normally as possible, especially mine and Zach's, and that became my responsibility."

  He frowned at her. "Where was your mother during all this?"

  "Oh, she was there physically, but the day my father left she checked out mentally and emotionally."

  Finished with her soup, she set her empty mug on the night stand beside the bed, then turned back toward Joel. She wasn't sure how they'd gotten so immersed in her past, gone from canned soup to her turbulent childhood, but she didn't mind sharing that private part of herself with Joel. And that realization said a lot, considering she didn't like thinking about, or talking about, what had happened so many years ago.

  "My mother had centered
her married life around pleasing my father, and him doing everything for her in terms of financial support, that she honestly didn't know how to cope without him." Facing Joel, she crossed her legs and settled the covers up around her waist, "After the divorce, she became withdrawn and depressed. She slept most of the day away, and when she was up, she was barely functional, despite the medication her doctor prescribed for her. Things got even worse after my father was killed in a car crash, along with his then-girlfriend. I think my mother always harbored the hope that he'd come back to her."

  "So you pretty much became a parent to both your mother and Zach," he guessed, his deep voice rich with understanding.

  She nodded. "Like I said, someone had to keep what was left of our family together, and I did what I could. Zach didn't cope well with my father's abandonment or the divorce, and he was a moody, temperamental teenager. Then, the summer after I graduated from high school, I came home from work one day to find that my mother had deliberately overdosed on a combination of pain killers and other barbiturates." Her throat clogged with emotion and the sadness that always accompanied thoughts of how her mother had died.

  Joel reached out, took her hand, and gave it a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry, Lora. I know how hard it is to lose a parent. My mother passed away when I was just a kid, and it changes everything."

  "Yeah, it does," she said, wondering what had changed for him and his family after his mother's death. The shadows lurking in his gaze told her that he'd been deeply affected by the loss of his mother, in a way that still remained a part of him.

  Pushing her own curiosity aside for the moment, she continued with her story, "I was eighteen at the time, and Zach was sixteen, so I filed for guardianship so we wouldn't be separated and I could raise him for the next two years. And let me tell you, he didn't make things easy on me. He ran with the wrong crowd and thought alcohol, drugs, and courting various kinds of trouble were the way to deal with his pain and anger over what happened with my mother and father."

  She shook her head and gave Joel a small half smile. "Somehow, someway, I managed to keep him out of juvenile hall, and when he turned eighteen and joined the Marines, I couldn't have been happier. I really hoped that this would be his chance to make a good, stable life for himself."

  She exhaled a deep breath and absently picked at a piece of lint on the dark brown comforter. "But I've had to bail him out of a few situations over the past few years due to his gambling habit and alcohol abuse, and now with tonight's incident, it seems that Zach hasn't changed at all. And even though I'm angry that he's gotten himself into trouble again, and I'm somehow involved, I really do miss him and I hope he's okay."

  "That's understandable." Joel's long, warm fingers stroked across her jaw and brushed away stray strands of her hair, his gentle touch stirring feelings deep inside of her. "He's your brother and your only family, and you love him, despite his faults."

  "Yeah, I do." She sighed, and eyed Joel's solid chest, thinking how wonderful it would be to curl up against him and forget about everything for a little while longer. At least until tomorrow morning, when reality would no doubt intrude on this idyllic time with him. "I'm really worried about Zach and I wish he'd get in touch with me so I can help him get out of whatever mess he's in."

  "If you've bailed him out before, maybe it's time that he learns to handle the situation himself," Joel said gruffly.

  She couldn't argue with that, yet… "If those guys had no qualms about putting a knife to my throat and threatening me with further harm, I can't imagine what they'll do to Zach."

  Lora shuddered at the horrible thoughts passing through her mind, of Zach alone and susceptible to those evil men wanting whatever money her brother owed them. She was suddenly very thankful that she was here with Joel, instead of by herself at her apartment. "I want you to know that I'm so grateful that you were there for me at The Electric Blue tonight."

  "It's not as though I was able to stop the attack." His jaw clenched in a flare of anger, and his eyes flashed with the same spark of fury. "It never should have happened to you, Lora."

  She studied him for a moment, from the tension radiating off his body to the self-reproach in his gaze. He made it seem as though he was responsible somehow, and that was an absolutely ridiculous notion. "There's no way you could have anticipated something like that. Nobody could have. But you did find me out in the back alley, and who knows how long I could have been out there if you hadn't heard me pounding on the door. And you've taken great care of me ever since."

  She moved closer, wanting him to know how much his attention and concern meant to her. "I can't remember the last time someone took care of me the way you have. It seems like I've always been the one taking care of everyone else, so to have you take charge of the situation like that, and me, was so reassuring. I needed you, and you were there for me, and I'm so glad that I'm here with you now and I don't have to be alone after what happened tonight with those men."

  His sensual lips tightened. "Sydney wouldn't have left you alone."

  "You're right," she conceded, though she wasn't sure why he was arguing the point, "I'm a pretty independent woman, but there's something about you that makes me feel safe and protected."

  "Lora…" His gravelly voice trailed off, and he looked torn about something. "About those men who attacked you-"

  Reaching out a hand before he could finish his sentence, she placed her fingers against his warm lips, stopping his flow of words. "I don't want to talk about what happened, or think about it," she said, and moved closer to him. "At least not right now."

  No, at the moment she had other things on her mind, and they included taking advantage of Joel's magnificent body. She wanted him again, ached to lose herself in his sensual kisses, the knowing stroke of his hands, and the heat of his mouth tempting her beyond thought or reason. And judging by the dark desire sparking to life in his gaze, he craved the same things.

  Emboldened by that knowledge, she closed the distance between them. Sliding her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, she tugged them down and off, then pushed his knees apart and knelt between his spread legs. He was already hard and thick, his erection curving up from his body as if begging for her touch.

  That she could arouse him so quickly was a heady notion that made her want to please him all the more. Earlier, he'd given her exactly what she'd needed, generously, intimately, and unselfishly. This time, she wanted to be the one to seduce him, just as indulgently.

  Flattening her hands on his strong thighs, she slid her palms upward. Her fingers traced the long scar on his left leg that he refused to talk about, then moved higher, until her thumbs brushed across the heavy sacks beneath his shaft, until the fingers of one hand were wrapped snugly around the base of his heated flesh.

  She glanced up the length of his torso, watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and finally met his gaze. His eyes were dark and intense and hypnotic, and when she stroked him all the way to the tip of his cock then glided her thumb over the swollen head, she felt him shudder and jolt against her erotic caress.

  Smiling, she lowered her head and teased him with slow, languid licks and wet swirls of her tongue. Tempted him with the promise of a deeper, moister heat. His fingers slid into her hair and cupped the back of her head, gently urging her to take more of him, all of him. Parting her lips, she drew his cock into her warm, wet mouth, as far as she could, loving the taste of him. She gradually withdrew, adding just enough suction and friction to rip a helpless groan from his throat.

  Her own arousal pitched higher, and because she wanted him inside her when he came, she moved up and over him, until she was kneeling above his hips, poised less than an inch away from his jutting erection. His hands settled on her thighs as she began unfastening the buttons on the shirt she wore. She made him suffer through her slow, seductive strip tease, made him watch as the flannel material parted and she caressed her bared breasts with her hands and grazed her rigid nipples with her thum
bs.

  Feeling shamelessly uninhibited, and encouraged by the lust and need chiseling his features, Lora skimmed her palms down her ribs, over her belly, and let her fingers dip between her legs. She was already slick and wet, her flesh incredibly sensitive to the touch, and she couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her lips.

  Joel's fingers dug into her thighs, and his breathing grew ragged. She knew she was pushing his restraint, and making him lose complete control became her ultimate goal. She inched downward, until just the swollen head of his erection glided along the weeping folds of her sex, and shivered at the delicious, erotic sensation of him sliding rhythmically against her cleft. Letting her lashes fall half-mast, she bit her bottom lip and rocked sinuously against that smooth, hard column of flesh once, twice, three times… and felt the beginnings of an orgasm start to unravel deep inside her.

  She heard Joel swear as his control finally shattered, a dark, ripe curse that was raw, primal, and wholly sexual. Grabbing her hips firmly in his hands, he jerked her body down onto his engorged cock at the same time he thrust upward, impaling her to the hilt in one long, hard, driving stroke. She gasped in shock, and her head spun at the sudden, unexpected invasion, but he didn't give her time to think. Didn't give her time to react or adjust before he was bucking into her, grinding against her, repeatedly, impatiently, relentlessly.

  She might have been on top and in the dominant position, but the man beneath her was far more powerful, far more demanding, and there was nothing she could do but match him stroke for stroke and ride out the sensual storm.

  His hands tugged at the shirt she wore, shoving it down her arms and off so that she was as naked as he was. His splayed palms slid around to her back, moved firmly up the slope of her spine. Long, warm, insistent fingers curled around the nape of her neck, and he pulled her down toward him to fuse their mouths together, even as their lower bodies continued to mate and strain for release.