Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Her mouth dropped open. “S-strip?”

  He arched a brow but barely held in his laughter. Where was her camera? He’d love a shot of the scandalized expression on her face. They could show it to their kids: here’s what Dad did to Mom on our first date. He froze, his shorts at his knees. Kids? Where the fuck had that come from?

  Shit. He needed to get laid. Soon. Before the sexual tension completely screwed up his brain. A romp or two and he’d be cured of his addiction. He finished taking off the shorts and stood up, meeting her gaze. He indicated his jammers and shot her a sardonic look. “I’m not usually an exhibitionist. Although I can be persuaded.”

  “What’s it worth to you?” she sassed back.

  Oh man. Maybe Alyssa was too much for him. “Come on, quit stalling.” He paused and reached for her waistband. “Or maybe you’re waiting for me to help?”

  “Oh no, Mr. Whitedeer. A privilege like that has to be earned.”

  “Look but don’t touch?”

  She arched her back, exposing her belly and an intriguing tattoo swirling around her navel. He’d have to examine it later. With his tongue. His eyes moved north as she gripped the edges of her tank top and pulled it over her head. Cupped in the tiny red bikini top, her breasts were ripe apples ready for the picking. As if they had a mind of their own, his hands lifted, fingers spread, ready to partake of her bounty.

  Laughing, she turned around and slipped off her shorts. Like a flag waved in front of a bull, her ass wrapped in red sent his instincts into overdrive. Despite the compression factor of his jammers, tenting action was definitely evident. A little cold water would cool them both down. He slipped a hand under her knees, swung her up into his arms, and charged into the river. The sound of her laughter as the water splashed them wrapped around his heart and did funny flipping things to his stomach. As soon as he was waist deep, he unlocked his knees and let the water close over their heads.

  Seconds later, they came up for air, sputtering and splashing. Alyssa twisted in his arms, wrapping around him. Even the cold water couldn’t diminish the pleasure of having her slick skin sliding against his. He sucked in a breath as her crotch came into contact with his cock. His gaze locked on hers. Desire swirled in her amber eyes. “I’ll ask again, Rémi. Where are we going with this?” Her voice was hoarse with arousal and a flush was spreading from her chest to her face.

  “I can’t promise you a future, just a good time. Is that enough for you?”

  She pulled the thong out of his hair, slipping it around her wrist. As her nails gently scraped his scalp and cold water trickled down his back, goosebumps sprang out, covering his body. “I’ve been waiting for this since the day we met. But it’s got to be on the QT,” she whispered in his ear.

  Was Gauthier hassling her about spending personal time with him? Well, tough shit. “Nothing’s more silent than an Indian.” They’d keep things quiet and low-key, but he was going to have her. Right now. He was like the Titanic, like a fucking high-speed train. Nothing was going to change his course.

  Rémi carried her to the blanket and laid her down. She brushed strands of wet hair from his face and trailed her hands down to his chest. A smile crooked her lips. “I wonder, are all the rumors true?”

  “What rumors?”

  “They say native people have very little body hair.” She rubbed her hands over his pectorals and down to his abs. “I can see that’s true. But…”

  “But what? What else have you heard?”

  “Well, it has to do with what’s in your swimsuit.”

  Was she remembering what Chaz had said about him? When his eyes widened, she grinned. That was one rumor he’d put to rest right now. He stood up and rolled his jammers off. His erection sprang out, hard and ready. He wrapped his hand around it, stroking its length. “Does that put your concerns to rest?”

  Gaze fixed on his cock, Alyssa rose to her knees and replaced his hand with her own. He hardened even more. “I was never worried.” She fingered the light trail of hair arrowing from his navel to his cock, then pulled him into her mouth.

  Oh fuck. He had not expected that. The warmth of her mouth encircled him, as her tongue curled around, bathing him in wetness. His legs trembled and he grabbed a tree branch above his head to keep from falling. She slid one hand down to cup his balls, squeezing them gently, slowly increasing the pressure. At the same time, she sucked hard on the head. The sensation of being tugged in two directions blew his mind. He pulled on her shoulders but she wouldn’t let go. “Sweetheart. We need to stop.”

  Her lips popped off with a smacking sound. “Why? Did you hear something?”

  When she licked her lips, he almost came. “No, we just… if you keep going… well, it’ll be curtains.”

  She smiled and grabbed his hips. “As they say, the show ain’t over till the fat lady sings.”

  Before her words penetrated, she’d returned his cock to paradise. Hot. Moist. Heaven. Who was he to argue? A tightening pleasure radiated out from the base of his spine. His balls contracted and pulled up close to his body. He’d reached the point of no return.

  Alyssa took him in deep, and scraped her nails through the hair surrounding his cock. With a groan torn from deep in his chest, he erupted into her mouth.

  As he stared into the upturned face of his blonde beauty still wearing her itsy-bitsy red bikini, only one thought came to mind, advice Raksótha had given him years ago.

  Play with fire often enough, eventually you get burned.

  Pupils blown, prominent cheekbones accentuated by a dark flush, Rémi hung from a branch, his body arched and stretched out like an offering. An offering Alyssa accepted as she let her hands roam free over his sleek bronzed skin. His powerful thighs captivated her as much as the dark but fine straight hair around his cock. “That’s another rumor confirmed,” she said.

  He followed her gaze and laughed. “I’ve got a lot more hair than full-blooded natives. I even have to shave every now and then.”

  She trailed her hand from his hairless chest, over the thin line bisecting his abs, to the sparse nest circling his cock. “Whatever the reason, I like.”

  Rémi let go of the branch and rubbed her shoulders, his touch warm and delicious. He leaned forward, his breath feathering her neck, drawing shivers from her. His hands slid down to mold her breasts, his thumbs strumming her nipples through the thin fabric of her bikini top. “I like too,” he whispered, the huskiness of his voice stirring her like an intimate caress.

  He brought his mouth to hers, soft lips brushing back and forth before pressing against hers in a sweet, tender kiss. She gripped his ass. A simple kiss had never felt so good.

  Rémi lowered her to the blanket. Reaching behind her head, he pulled on the string keeping her top up. With one tug, the bow dissolved. Using the string ends, he drew the triangles down, exposing her breasts, inch by inch. Cool air blew over her heated skin, making her shiver. Her nipples pebbled. And ached. Sinking her fingers into his hair, she pulled his head down. If he didn’t put his mouth on her, she’d scream.

  Perched inches from her breast, Rémi paused. When she moaned, he winked and lapped at her nipple with his tongue. She dug her fingers deeper into his hair, pressing against his skull. He lapped again. Such sweet torture. She needed more, so much more. Arching her back, she mashed her breast against his lips. He chuckled and the sound vibrated straight to her core.

  Wetness flooded her bikini bottoms. Could he make her come with just a few licks? Before she could find out, his lips closed around one nipple, sucking it into his warm wet mouth. His tongue circled it, lashing gently, while her other nipple enjoyed being rolled between his fingers, tweaked and plucked.

  Sucking harder and pinching tighter, he built the tension. She slid her hands down to his back and clutched him to her chest. An ache grew in her core, pressure swirled upward until her entire being consisted of the two points he was pleasuring. Oh God. She really was going to come this way. Throwing her head back, she waited for the
swirling, tightening sensations to peak.

  He stilled, his mouth leaving her. “No, don’t stop,” she moaned.

  Frowning, he pressed a finger to his lips and pushed to his feet. Head tilted, he scanned the surrounding trees. Then she heard it: a rustling of leaves. Was someone coming? Rolling onto all fours, she crawled over to her pile of clothes. After tugging on her tank top, she shimmied into her shorts and stepped into her sneakers. When she was done, she looked up to see Rémi still as a statue in all his naked glory. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Except for his face, where the frown had turned into an expression of wonder. He motioned for her to join him.

  She padded across the blanket to his side. With a finger, he indicated an area at the edge of the trees where a beautiful doe grazed on a leafy birch, totally unaware of their presence.

  Lost in admiring the animal’s luxurious pelt, reddish on her back and sides, whitish on her belly, Alyssa barely noticed Rémi pulling his shorts on behind her. Until he dropped the camera in her hand. “Thank you,” she mouthed. She crept forward, but when she turned on her camera, it made a whirring noise.

  The doe swung around and jumped over the dense foliage, flourishing her tail over her back, revealing her bright white undertail and flanks. Alyssa quickly raised her camera to get a shot, but it was too late. The doe had disappeared into the woods. “Stupid camera,” she muttered under her breath.

  Rémi laughed. “I’ll call her back. Just make sure your camera is on and set to silent this time.” He stepped into the trees, following the path the doe had taken. Fifty meters in, they encountered an area of sparser growth. He cupped his hands around his mouth and emitted a low grunt that made her want to laugh. Alyssa shot him a look, eyebrow raised. He shrugged and placed a finger over his mouth, then repeated the call. He tilted his head, turning slowly as though listening. The river rushed nearby, birds sang in the trees, and insects buzzed around their heads. Then she heard it—a twig snapping. Her gaze cut to Rémi, whose broad proud smile said it all. Alyssa couldn’t help smiling back. As a kid, her dad had tried to teach her to make a honking sound with a piece of grass, but she’d never really gotten the hang of it. She could barely even whistle. But Rémi had actually called a deer! How cool was that?

  Nodding at her camera, he brought his hands back to his mouth and called again. The sound of movement through the trees grew louder. Hooves stirred up the rich soil and the scent of decaying vegetation tickled her nose. She raised the camera just as the doe poked her muzzle out from under the cover of a branch. Moments later, two spotted fawns joined her, bleating and nudging each other until the doe gently nipped their hindquarters. Holding her breath, Alyssa pressed the shutter button and prayed the camera wouldn’t make any noise.

  Rémi stepped beside her, winding his arms around her waist and resting his hand on the curve of her hip. She leaned into his body, enjoying the glimpse into a world she’d never known. After a few minutes of watching the deer eat and play, Rémi nuzzled her ear. “We’ve got unfinished business,” he whispered, as his hand slid down to cup her butt.

  “As soon as they leave, I’ll hold you to it.” She grinned and rubbed her cheek against his naked chest. Moisture flooded her core as she thought of Rémi in all his splendor focused on her pleasure. Golden, sculpted, smooth chest. Broad, rippling, muscular shoulders. She clamped her thighs together to soothe the growing ache. No matter how attractive and mouth-watering Rémi was, she was not having sex in the middle of the woods. A tick could crawl up her hooha.

  Desperate to get her mind off her body and the orgasm that beckoned to her, she returned her gaze to the deer. The sound of far-off movement reached them. Was the buck near too? Escaping a raging buck might be a bit scarier than watching Bambi play. She peered through the trees and spotted a small structure on the other side of the clearing. “I didn’t know people lived this far out.”

  Rémi frowned. “They don’t.”

  “Someone’s put down roots. Hear that low humming sound? It’s probably a generator.”

  All humor left his face. He indicated her camera. “Take some pictures of it.”

  She shifted position to get a clearer shot. “It’s probably just a hunter’s cabin.”

  As she continued to take photos, he crouched beside her. “Doesn’t look like any house I’ve ever seen. It’s barely bigger than a shed.”

  A loud crack echoed in the distance and something whined past Alyssa’s ear. The doe picked up her head and made a blowing sound. Rémi tackled Alyssa to the ground, shielding her with his body.

  “Holy crap. That was a gunshot!” she said, her voice tight from the pounding of her heart. The last thing she’d expected today was to end up on the wrong end of a rifle. Another shot rang out and splinters flew off a tree a few feet from the doe.

  Rémi rolled them under some brush, finishing with his body covering hers. “Stay down.”

  The doe snorted and wheezed, then leapt into the trees, heading for the water. The fawns followed. Alyssa turned her head in the direction of the shots. “Who’d be stupid enough to hunt a nursing doe?”

  “No one from my community. Must be a poacher.”

  She squirmed out from under Rémi and got to her feet in a crouch. “Let’s find out.”

  He grabbed her arm and tugged her back down. “Are you nuts? We’re defenseless.”

  “Those fawns will die if their mother is killed.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp and, using the larger trees for cover, headed toward the shooter.

  Rémi caught up with her and wrapped his arms around her waist, immobilizing her. “What if what you saw isn’t a hunting shack?”

  She turned her head to see his face. “What else could it be?”

  Another shot. This time the popping sound was clear.

  Adrenaline slammed into her and her heart took flight. “That’s not a hunting rifle.” And she didn’t have her gun.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He turned her in the direction of the river and nudged her from behind. “Go, run!”

  Having no death wish, she took off, expecting his long legs to eat the ground and put him ahead of her, but they didn’t. Her stomach clenched. He was intentionally keeping himself between her and the shooter. The least she could do was make them harder to hit.

  Leaping over low bushes, ducking under thick branches, she zigged and zagged toward the river where they’d left the canoe. Thorns scratched her legs, tree limbs pulled at her hair and cut her face. She shoved aside a leafy branch, but her timing was off. Rémi grunted as it smacked him in the chest.

  Panic had not hit, but she was definitely feeling the burn in her thighs as she pushed herself to move faster. Rémi kept pace close behind, his breathing harsh. “Almost there,” he grunted, barely audible over the sounds of their feet crashing through the thick undergrowth.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  Wood exploded. Shards, like shrapnel, ripped into her skin. Her foot caught on something, tripping her. Momentum sent her sprawling.

  Rémi shouted and tried to catch her. But it was too late. Her head connected with the trunk of a fallen tree. Instantly, he was beside her, smoothing his hands over her head, her shoulders. “Alyssa! Are you hit?”

  Then all went dark.

  Shots reverberated in the narrow stairwell as Chaz raced up the flight of cement steps. Seconds later, he burst out of the shed that camouflaged the entrance to the underground grow room. Pete raised his AK-47, sighted through the scope, and fired off several rounds. “That should do it.”

  The loud report of the assault rifle almost popped his eardrums. Chaz pressed his hands to his ears, trying to stop the ringing. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to get us caught?”

  Nitro shook his head and returned his M1911 to the waistband holster at the small of his back. Cool as ever, cool as always, he finished adjusting his shirt to conceal the pistol, then flicked his thumb in Pete’s direction. “Genius over here decided to do some hunting.”

  Swingi
ng the rifle over his shoulder, Pete grinned. “I think I got her too.”

  As he peered in the direction Pete had been shooting, Chaz smiled. “You got a doe? I haven’t had venison stew in ages.” His stomach growled so loud Nitro’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Not the doe, the bitch,” Pete said.

  What a sick fuck. “You killed a dog?”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “No, I didn’t fucking kill a dog. I’m talking about that SQ bitch.”

  Anger turned his muscles to stone. He’d wanted the whore dead, but not this way. “Do I have to hit you with a motherfucking clue-bat? You kill an SQ officer on our land, we’ll have the army rolling in here with tanks. How long do you think it will take them to find our operation, you dumbass?”

  “We dump the body somewhere off the rez. No one has to know.”

  Chaz stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep from strangling the stupid son of a bitch. “Was she alone?” He’d be surprised if Officer Bimbo had the balls to explore Blackriver on her own, especially after her earlier run-in with Pete and the boys. Not to mention Corey’s little bacon surprise.

  “There was definitely a male with her,” Nitro said. “Looked Indian to me.”

  “Rémi?” Chaz asked, heading toward the river. If the woman or Rémi were still here, alive, he’d say they were hunting and shot at them by mistake. But if either one was dead…

  Pete followed him. “Should’ve gotten rid of that fuck-stain a long time ago.”

  “Not another word or you’re the one I’ll be getting rid of.” Vegetation absorbed the sound of his boots as he traversed the clearing. When he reached a spot of obvious activity, he surveyed the area.

  Judging by the hoofprints, a doe and two fawns had been here and gnawed at leaves. Two nearby trees sported bullet holes. He pulled a switchblade and dug the embedded bullets out of the bark. The heavy thirty-nine millimeter was from Pete’s AK-47. But the other, a .45 ACP, had to be from Nitro’s pistol. He dropped the bullet into the cocky bastard’s hand. “Hot shot hitman couldn’t hit a target at fifty meters?”