“Why not?”
“Because you’re mine, and you’ve been hurt, and it drives me crazy thinking I wasn’t there to prevent it.”
“And that makes you want to hurt me, too.” She said that as if it made sense.
“Ah shit, baby, I don’t want to hurt you ever.” Her breasts dangled an inch from his mouth while her hand grazed its way down his stomach.
“But you want me.”
“Yes.”
“Just me?”
“Only you.”
Her fingertips inched under the waistband of his denims. His stomach sucked in at the pleasure. Her breasts swung as she hitched up higher. Her nipple brushed his mouth. He caught it between his lips before it could swing back. Her breath left her in a rush. He didn’t let go, just held her in his mouth, meeting her gaze with his, warning her to back off. Her eyebrows arched up. He pulled his lips back, letting her feel and see his teeth. Letting her know he was serious. Needing her to back off, so he could hold onto the little bit of self-liking he had left.
Fear flared in her eyes. Her gaze locked on his teeth. She stopped breathing. If he had any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, he would nip her, give her that bite that would send her flying, but he couldn’t because in the time it took him to make the decision, the fear in her eyes was replaced with understanding.
“It’s okay, Clint,” she whispered, leaning forward, giving him access to her breasts. “It’s okay if you need to hurt me this time.”
His cock leapt and strained in his pants at her submission. Desire thickened his blood until it chugged painfully through his veins. Goddamn her! How could she do this to him? Give herself to him like this? With no holding back, knowing how close to the edge he was?
He kept her nipple locked between his teeth while he sank his fingers into her hair at the base of her skull and dragged her over him. When she was straddling his stomach, he arched her head back, forcing more of her breast into his mouth. He suckled her hard, probably too hard, but he needed her, needed her acceptance. Needed to test whether she meant it. Needed this culmination of years of hunger. Of waiting.
He lashed her nipple with his tongue as it rose to attention. Nibbled it with his lips, his free hand molding her breast to his liking, drawing it away from her body, toward his mouth, milking a response. Demanding it.
And she gave it to him, in soft pants and tiny surprised squeaks of pleasure. She didn’t like it when he used his teeth. Just the hint of them would have her braced, but she loved it when he used his lips to nip and grind gently on the little nubs. She would moan when he suckled her, drawing hard on the sensitive tip. And she liked it when he worked her breast with his hands in time with his tugging on her nipples. Then she would rock on his torso, unconsciously rubbing her pussy over the ridges of muscle. He cupped the plump cheeks of her ass in his palms and forgot all about driving her away.
“Come up here, baby.” He pushed with his hands and scooted down on the settee until the bottom arm stopped his progress. She only got as far as his chest before she stopped, just close enough to tease him with the first scent of her passion, but too far away for him to taste. And he needed to taste her. To know every little intimate thing about her.
He grabbed her waist and lifted her to the side. She was still wobbling on her feet, trying to get her bearings when he sat on the floor before her and took her hands in his, leaning back until he was supine and she was bent over him. It wasn’t the smooth move he’d planned because she didn’t have any clue as to his intent. He shook his head at her lack of education, and with a quick tug, overbalanced her so that she fell. Her squeal ended buried in his chest as he cushioned her fall.
“Straddle me, Sunshine.” She did as ordered, pushing her wild tangle of hair off her face as she knelt above him. He brushed the plump swell of her stomach on his way up to the bright red tips of her nipples, taking the tiny bit of additional pressure against his thumb as she sucked in a breath.
“That’s it,” he whispered as her pussy dampened the flesh of his stomach. “Feel the pleasure. This isn’t a sin, Jenna. It’s the way it’s supposed to be between us. Let me show you how good it should feel.”
Her head dropped back and the long length of her hair lashed his thighs as she shook her head. “How can you do this to me?”
“Do what?”
“Make me forget.”
“Practice.” He’d had a lot of practice forgetting. “Now, come here.”
He tugged her nipples. She leaned forward, catching her weight on her hands on the floor beside his head. He stroked his hands down her back, marveling at how soft she was to his touch. So different from him. Inside and out. He traced the line of her spine with the index fingers of both hands until they ended in the soft flesh of her buttocks.
He palmed her ass, massaging the giving flesh, sinking his fingers deep, pulling her up as he scooted down until with a last tug, he lifted her thighs over his shoulders one at a time so that she was kneeling over his face.
“Clint?”
He knew she was embarrassed. Unsure. Knew and didn’t care. She had the prettiest pussy. Plump and lush like the rest of her, the delicate inner lips just beginning to unfurl with her desire. Just a few drops of moisture clinging to the springy blonde curls.
He scooped one pearly drop on his finger. It shimmered against his dark flesh, enticing him to look for more, bring forth more. He glanced up. She was looking down at him. He held her gaze while he brought his finger to his mouth, curling his tongue around that savory drop, groaning in his throat as her flavor spread through his mouth. Son of a bitch, he’d known she’d be sweet on his tongue.
The flush on her cheeks turned scarlet as she gasped. He slid his hands over her hip bones until he had a good grip and pulled her down. He did most of the tugging on the left side, supporting the right so she didn’t have to, welcoming her weight on his chest as her pussy brushed his lips. Fear flared in her blues eyes. Her entire being seemed to cringe away. He stroked her hip with one hand while holding her still with the other.
“What is it, baby?”
Her lip slipped between her teeth, but she didn’t say a word, just fisted her hands beside his head and braced herself. He kissed the inside of her thigh, dragging his lips across the warm, silken expanse, absorbing her start, stopping when the color drained from her face.
“What is it, Jenna?”
“Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I know I said it was okay, but please don’t bite me there. Please.”
He took a deep breath and held it, the rage swelling higher than before. Damn, he’d put her husband in the ground again if he could.
“I won’t bite you, baby. I just want to kiss you a little. Taste you. Make you feel good.” He kissed her folds, once, twice, three times, easing her into the thought of his mouth there, gentling her with his lips and hands until she relaxed above him.
“Is…is this necessary?” she asked in that squeaky voice that made him smile.
“Very.”
He teased her with his tongue, probing the crease with light flicks, working a little deeper each time until he reached the moist inner core of her desire. Her gasps were constant now, but no longer from fear. Her delicate flesh was swelling and her sweet channel lubricating, teasing him with her unique flavor. He wanted more.
He pulled her closer, delved deeper, lashed her faster. His cock jerked and throbbed in rhythm with his mouth.
He nuzzled his face deeper between her legs, searching for and finding her clit were it nestled. He lapped at it gently, gradually increasing the pressure as she arched against him. He was rewarded as the sensitive nubbin swelled against his tongue and a fresh burst of cream coated her thighs.
He wanted to eat her up. He wanted everything she had to give. He wanted her to give it to him, and he wanted to take it. He slipped a finger into her channel. She was very tight, her muscles clamping down on him immediately. He took her clit between his lip
s and sucked it gently while easing his finger in and out.
Her breath came faster, broken by incoherent whimpers. He upped the pace, the pressure, driving her desire higher, adding another finger to the first. He could feel her passion building, feel her response beginning to take over. Feel her fear growing right along with it in the tension of her muscles.
She gasped and pulled away. He growled and pulled her back, holding her still for the lash of his tongue, the suction of his mouth. He held her to him and drank of her essence as she spasmed above him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she cried out his name. He growled deep in his throat when she would have pulled away.
He wasn’t done yet. Hadn’t had nearly enough of her sweetness yet. She screamed his name again, another stronger climax coming on the first, the last consonant shattering on a note of panic as her pussy milked his finger and her juices flooded his tongue. The edge of pain in her next scream was the only thing that could have pulled him away from her at that moment.
He turned them on their sides, tucking her head onto his shoulder as she cried, stroking her spine while kissing her cheek, her neck, her jaw.
“It’s all right, baby,” he whispered in her ear as huge sobs shook her body. “It’s all right.”
And it was. Despite the fact that Jenna was crying rather than smiling, despite the fact that his cock ached for relief, for the first time in years, everything was right in his world.
Chapter Eleven
She couldn’t stop crying. It was embarrassing, ridiculous, and stupid, but the more Clint stroked her back and kissed her hair, the more tears gathered and fell.
“Ah Sunshine, you’ve got to stop.”
She would if she could. “I’m trying.”
Her voice was a pathetic hiccup of sound, squeaked out between sobs.
“You’re going to make me look bad. Folks will take one look at your face and know for sure I’m a real son of a bitch.”
He wasn’t a son of a bitch. She stroked the scars on his chest, her fingers sliding across the sweat-slicked muscle. He was a hard man and sometimes a cold man, but he was a man like no other. And he was hers. Another round of tears swelled. She sniffed and wiped at her nose. It figured that the first time she’d cried in years, she wouldn’t have a hanky handy.
Behind the pocket doors, Danny whined. Beneath her, Clint moaned. She apologized again, sniffed and burrowed deeper into his arms. There was something so solid about the man that had nothing to do with all that heavy muscle and bone. She couldn’t get close enough. He made her feel feminine, dainty, and…desired. He grunted as her elbow dug into his ribs.
“Are you going to cry like this every time you come?”
She had no idea. “Does it matter?”
His chuckle bounced her around. “Not really.” He shifted beneath her, catching her with his arm when she almost tumbled off. “I might just pick a more comfortable place for the next round, though.”
They were on the floor. Or more correctly, Clint was on the floor and she was sprawled on top of him.
“You must be freezing!” She scrambled up. He let her, catching her hand when she would have pulled away, rolling to his feet and pulling her back into his arms as he straightened.
The cotton of his denims rasped against her stomach as he tucked her into his embrace. Against her hip and thigh, his erection throbbed. She remembered how he’d held her this morning. His tenderness. His consideration. She quelled her reflex to shift away. Instead, she rubbed against him, lifting her face for the descent of his mouth when he touched her chin with his finger. His lips were firm and demanding, his tongue seeking hers with the urgency she could feel thrumming under his skin. He wanted her.
It still shocked her that someone like him could want someone like her, but he did, and she wanted to give him everything he needed. Whatever it was. However it was.
His hand dropped to her breast. She shivered first from the cold contact and then from the heat as he lifted her breast to the stroke of his thumb. Fire streaked out from her nipple, lingering sparks dancing erratically over her torso, flashing and tingling all the way down to her pussy, where they coalesced into a hot ball of greedy incentive.
She wanted more. Of the feeling. Of him. She rubbed her tongue against his, standing on tiptoe to get closer. His forearm at the base of her spine anchored her against him as his kiss got bolder, hotter. More demanding. She went with him, twining her arms around his neck when he lifted her feet off the floor, amazed that he could do so with one arm, secretly thrilled that he could.
He pulled his lips from hers.
She grabbed his hair and pulled him back. “No.”
He ignored her protest. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”
It should have terrified her to draw such a tone from a man, but it didn’t. God help her it didn’t. Instead, every guttural note hissed like hot sap along her nerve endings, heating her up like the main event at a bonfire. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, leaning back so he could see her breasts, smiling when he licked his lips. His expression hardened to granite. His black eyes seared hers as he turned, carrying her out the door as if she weighed nothing.
They were at the foot of the stairs before she found her voice. “Where are we going?”
“Upstairs where I can love you right.”
“I can’t imagine you doing it wrong.” The bold statement just popped out.
Clint s eyes flared and his breath sucked in. And then he was in motion again, spinning them around, backing her up. His arm hit the wall first, taking most of the impact snapping her into the equally hard wall of his chest. His mouth came down on hers, wild and hungry as if he wanted to devour her. His teeth grazed her neck as he arched and fumbled beneath her. He sucked at the cord of her neck and shoulder as he kicked free of his boots and pants, jostling a laugh from deep within. She didn’t recognize him like this. Didn’t recognize herself like this. But she liked it.
The broad head of his cock slid along her buttocks as he groaned in relief. His mouth came back to hers, and he was kissing her again, his mouth as possessive as his hands on her hips, his cock branding her with the heat of his passion, demanding that she give in and accept him.
And she did. He lifted her, a wicked smile on his exotic face, and slid his cock between them, tilting her so that he rode her crease, the broad head flicking her swollen clit as he speared up through her folds, sending shards of lighting flickering outward. She hunched her back and buried her face in his neck as he climbed the stairs, every step nudging the hot length of his shaft along her ultra-sensitive clit. It was sinful, decadent and she never wanted it to end. By the time they reached the top of the stairs she was whimpering and gasping, her mouth kissing and sucking at his shoulder in response to the blistering demands of her body.
He entered the bedroom without missing a beat, and kicked the door closed. His cock dipped and caught the top fold of her pussy where it pressed and strained.
“Son of a bitch!” The heated curse swept past her ear as Clint caught a fistful of her hair in his hand and pulled her head back. The salty taste of his flesh lingered on her lips as she stared up at him. She held his gaze as she licked it off.
He tossed her, his masculine laughter following her as she squealed and flailed for support. The softness of the mattress wrapped around her before it dipped to one side and then the other as Clint placed his hands beside her knees, his hair swinging forward between them. He started crawling up her body, his hands set with predatory precision alongside her as he covered her. Everything feminine in her went on alert. Even though she knew he was playing, he was too big, too masculine to just lie still. She propped herself on her elbows and wiggled backward.
“Clint?”
He just smiled wider and kept on coming, his biceps flexing with every move, his cock dragging up the inside of her thigh in a hot, silken caress. The sheer weight of the broad head of his cock pulled it down.
She looked over her shoulder. She was
running out of bed. His arms drew even with her hips. He paused, grinned at her, and slowly, slowly lowered his head, holding her gaze the whole time. His hair pooled on either side of her thighs, while his tongue—his wickedly talented tongue—extended toward her pussy. He wiggled it once, making her shiver and arch up almost imperceptibly. His smile broadened and then he was licking her, swirling his tongue through her thick juices, tapping her clit with every other pass, while his eyes measured every response she made. It was too much. Too intimate. She let her lids flutter down on the next wave of passion.
A nip on her thigh had them flying open.
“Watch.” She didn’t know whether to be scared or soothed.
“You bit me.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and sucked the injured area before laving it with his tongue.
“No, Sunshine. I just got your attention.”
She rubbed the inside of her thigh. He kissed her hand, working his tongue between her fingers, tickling her with the promise of sensation.
“But…”
“Trust me, baby.”
He held her with the power of his personality, the depth of the emotion in his eyes, the promise of passion in his touch. It might make her a weak woman, a loose woman, but she wanted that pleasure with him again. Wanted to give it back to him. No matter what.
She removed her hand and placed it on his head. His hair was silky and cool to the touch, soothing against the heat of her skin. He turned and kissed her palm. Feeling bold and daring, she curved her fingers over his jaw. The start of his beard rasped her skin. He paused and looked up at her over her hand. The heat under the question in his gaze seared her.
“I want to make you feel good, too.”
“I’m feeling very good right now.” His deep voice rolled over her the way it always did, soothing and stimulating at the same time.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to just take. I want to give.”
“Sweet thing, you’re giving me heaven right now.”
“I’m not giving you anything. I’m just lying here.”
He kissed his way up her stomach, each brush of his lips on her flesh infinitely gentle. “You’re giving me your trust.”
Promises Prevail Page 16