by Kit Rocha
Jeni wound her arms around his neck and tilted her face to his, upsetting her already precarious balance. But she didn't cling to him for support. Instead, her hands skated over his back, slowly exploring as she trusted him to hold her.
She was at his mercy, even if only in the tiniest way, and it felt good. Dangerous, because reveling in that small victory twisted into craving more, and he was moving before he could stop himself. Kissing her harder, sinking his fingers into her hair as he bent her back over his arm.
Her tongue traced over his, teasing more than stroking. Licking and then dancing away, inviting him deeper. Daring him to take.
He groaned and caught her lower lip between his teeth, but that wasn't enough, either. Panting, he bit her jaw next, mere heartbeats from spilling her to the ground in a tangle of grasping hands and rent fabric.
“You're both,” he whispered instead. “I stayed for you when it was wrong. And when it was right.”
She was panting too, soft, maddening puffs of breath against his ear, and her hands trembled when she touched his face, held him there. “Thank you.”
The moonlight filtered through the trees in teasing patches. He could see her eyes, her smile, the masses of hair curled around his fist. But so much was in shadow, just like that night in the courtyard behind the warehouse.
Except no one would see them here. No one would witness the fracture in his self-control except for Jeni.
He claimed her mouth again, rougher this time, driving his tongue between her lips before she could tease him. So she teased him in other ways, gliding her hands down to the small of his back. She made a low, approving noise in the back of her throat when her fingers encountered the bare skin beneath his shirt, and another when he tightened his hand in her hair.
Three steps behind them was a flat, knee-high rock, a popular place to sit and stare up at the night sky. Hawk sank to it and pulled Jeni with him, tugging her astride his lap. The thin skirt of her sweet cotton dress rode up her thighs, but he was focused on the ties at her shoulders. One firm tug and her dress slipped open on one side, baring the swell of her breast.
He still had one hand buried in her hair. It was so easy to guide her head back, to stroke his other hand down the soft skin of her exposed throat. Her pulse raced beneath his fingertips, and he lingered there for a moment before sliding lower, scraping her skin lightly with his nails. “You're so beautiful.”
She wiggled closer, pressing her hips tight against his. The contact made her shudder and flush beneath his touch.
Slow down. His brain knew the right thing to do, but his body wouldn't listen. He tugged at the cute little bow on her other shoulder and pushed the fabric down to her waist. Her skin was far too delicate to suffer his work-roughened touch, but she only squirmed harder as he circled the tight peak of one nipple.
He'd watched her touch herself on that damn stage night after night, had gone home hard and aching only to close his eyes and imagine his hands in place of hers, stroking and teasing and pinching. But he of all people knew that the Jeni who danced on that stage was a character. An act that stood a little off-center, holding parts of her but never all of her.
The command bubbled up from deep inside him, slipping free before he could stop it. “Touch your nipples. Show me what you like.”
She obeyed with whisper-soft caresses, her fingertips barely skimming her flesh. In the darkness, it could have been an illusion that she was touching herself at all, except for the way her nipples hardened more with every delicate brush of her fingers.
Then, suddenly, she pinched them—hard, hard enough to drive her teeth into her lower lip and elicit another, longer shudder.
Fucking hell. “Again.”
She dropped her hands to her lap—and dangerously close to his dick. “No.”
Not a denial, but a challenge. He recognized the spark in her eye, the mischief, the dare. How many parties had he attended where Noelle sassed Jasper with that gleeful light in her eyes, only to end up over his knee or over his shoulder, hauled away to some private, far more intimate punishment?
Hawk imagined it. He couldn't fucking stop himself. Jeni, across his legs, her little pastel plaid skirt tossed up over her ass. Squirming and whimpering as he spanked her until her skin was red and her thighs were slick with arousal, and he barely had to touch her to have her sobbing with relief and release.
When had his imagination gotten this damn vivid?
“Jeni,” he growled, dragging her head up with his grip in her hair. “Do. It. Again.”
She wanted to push him. He could see it in her eyes, lurking beneath the glazed pleasure. But she did as he commanded, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples between her fingers until he couldn't stand just watching anymore, so he bent his head and licked her fingers.
Jeni muffled her moan against his temple. “Please.”
The plea shot through him, straight to where she was rocking against his dick like she was going to grind herself to orgasm. A part of him he hadn't realized was there drove him to drop a hand to her hip, stilling her restless movements, forcing her to endure the tease of his breath feathering over her. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.” Her chest heaved, brushing her nipple against his lower lip. “I ache. And it doesn't matter how many times I get myself off, it never goes away.”
He dragged his tongue across the straining tip and relished her tiny, desperate noise. She was electric under his touch, so responsive he knew he could get her there. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”
Her fingers dug into his neck and shoulders, clenching, as if testing his strength through his thin T-shirt. He left one hand on her hip and slid the other up to tease his thumb over the nipple still wet from his tongue. “Try it now. Make yourself come.”
Her eyes locked with his. She held his gaze, even when the first tiny rock of her hips had her lashes fluttering down in pure, agonizing pleasure. She watched him, riveted, as she did it again, and again—nothing as coordinated as the way he'd seen her move on stage, but something new. Desperate.
Something that was only his.
Need throbbed in time with the rhythm of her hips, an ache that warned him he was too far gone to come back. But he didn't give a shit if he exploded in his jeans like an anxious teenager—as long as she kept moving, kept moaning, kept trembling like she felt just as lost, just as untried.
He rolled his thumb over her nipple again, earning a hitch in her breath. But soft wasn't what either of them wanted.
His head swimming, he brought his thumb and finger together and pinched until she choked out a curse and covered his hand with hers, holding his fingers to her ravaged skin.
Pain and pleasure. She wanted both, needed both. And it felt so very, very good to give it to her.
Jeni ground against him, harder with every pounding heartbeat. He could feel her heat through their clothes, so seductive he had to grit his teeth. She threw her head back like she was going to scream, so he started to cover her mouth, but all she did was breathe his name, one syllable wrapped in a whispering sigh and a groan of sheer, absolute relief.
His heart pounding, Hawk dragged her close to his chest, wrapping both arms around her to protect her bare skin from the cool evening breeze. “You okay?”
“Yes.” The word left her on a soft laugh, one that tickled the crook of his neck. Her teeth scraped his skin, and she sat back, as if she couldn't even feel the night chill.
Then she dropped her hands to his belt. She unbuckled it without looking away from his face, and the only thing more arresting than what she was doing was the way she was watching him—waiting, a question in her eyes.
He could stop her. Maybe should. But every brush of her fingertips across the denim covering his straining cock stoked his arousal, and he was flesh and blood. Just a man, unable to resist temptation when it stared at him with huge, pleasure-glazed eyes.
He cupped her cheek and pressed his thumb to her lips. The soft command he uttered was
absolutely wrong—and so, so right. “Use your mouth.”
She slid off his lap, rising before dropping to her knees at his feet. Every movement was careful, deliberate. Perfect obedience, a submission that went beyond the illusion of power and straight into the very heart of it.
Unbuttoning. Unzipping. By the time she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, he was grinding his fists against the rock to keep from tangling his hands in her hair and jerking her mouth down.
She licked her lips and then licked him, drawing her tongue in a lush, wet circle around the head of his cock.
“Fuck.” It was better than his imagination ever could have painted it, better than any goddamn thing he could remember. Because she was on her knees for him, her clothes askew, so disheveled she looked like he'd already fucked her, and he wasn't going to last if she kept teasing him.
His self-control snapped, and he laid one hand on the back of her head. “Now.” He tried to whisper, but it came out rough and dark instead, a snarl. “Suck me.”
Her lips slid around him, slick and hot and soft. She didn't tease, exactly—she didn't hesitate or hold back—but she took her time. Up and down her mouth worked, taking more of him with every advance, gently increasing the pressure until her cheeks were hollowed out, and Hawk couldn't resist her.
He didn't have to. This might be his first taste of Jeni and the dark passion that sizzled between them…but it wouldn't be the last.
The thought undid him. He stopped fighting the pleasure and gave in with a groan. Fire flooded him, and he spread his fingers wide at the back of Jeni's head, holding her in place as his hips jerked and he came on a rush of satisfaction.
She swallowed him with a moan, then soothed him with gentle flicks of her tongue. And while he gasped for breath, she laid her head on his thigh and waited.
As if he could catch his breath with her curled at his feet, sweet and patient. He stroked her cheek and ran his fingers through her tangled hair. “That was perfect.”
She smiled and bit his thumb.
“Brat.” Lazy pleasure spiraled through him as he bent and gathered her up into his arms. She came willingly, settling across his legs with her head tucked under his chin. He took his time running his hands up each leg, brushing away the dirt and pine needles, rubbing at the tiny indentions where pebbles had dug into her skin. “Still okay?”
“No.” Her fingers clenched in his shirt. “You make me want to stay here, where everything is so far away.”
Hawk wrapped both arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I wish everything really was far away. It's easy to forget here, but it's dangerous, too. I don't want them to forget.”
Jeni touched his arm. “I know.”
The wind picked up, stirring through the trees above them. Jeni's skin broke out in goose bumps beneath his hands, and he urged her upright. Working in silence, he eased her dress back into place and tied it securely at each shoulder.
“So serious,” she whispered.
“I'll always be serious about taking care of you.” He smoothed her dress one last time and touched her chin, tilting her head back so she had to meet his eyes. “You deserve it.”
Her sudden smile was impish. “Are you starting to regret the fact that your mother banished you to the bunkhouse with the rest of Shipp's crew?”
He laughed and brushed a kiss to her lips. “Not even a little. This means I get to sneak you out to the barn tomorrow night.”
“Dirty.” Jeni glanced back toward the field. “We should probably rejoin the party. They're going to miss you.”
They already had, without a doubt. There'd be even more razzing when he hit the bunkhouse tonight, and his sisters would be unlivable, but he didn't give a shit. “Let them,” he murmured, turning her face back to his. “I'm not done kissing you.”
Jeni leaned into him, warm and pliant, as he captured her mouth with his. If he'd thought a couple of orgasms would ease the tension between them, she proved him wrong with the slow, lazy caress of her tongue and the eager heat of her body.
They'd barely scratched the surface of what they could be together. Now Hawk knew in his bones that she'd take him all the way down into his darkest, basest desires, and she'd love every minute of it.
Lord help him, so would he.
Chapter Five
Hawk's sister liked to talk.
Jeni already knew that, of course. The night before, Luna had dominated her conversation with Bethany, asking a million questions, mostly about what life was like outside of Sector Six. She was irrepressible, so full of life, and so young.
Jeni could barely remember ever being that young.
Luna moved down another row of the large, fenced plot that served as their herb garden and beckoned for Jeni to follow. Besides the typical herbs used in cooking, like basil or thyme, they grew an impressive array of plants and flowers she'd only seen in illustrations and pictures.
“We have plenty of aloe, of course—that's good for burns and scrapes,” Luna said. “Marigolds, goldenseal, fenugreek, comfrey…”
Jeni marked each one off the mental list she'd memorized. With them, they could possibly treat a number of common ailments or complaints, though they'd have to be careful. Dosages had to be monitored closely, just like the medications manufactured in Sector Five. Too much could mean organ damage, even death.
“We have a few willow trees around the farm, mostly down near the creek on the eastern side,” Luna went on, “but Alya prefers feverfew when it's in season.” She stopped beside an elderberry bush and idly traced its leaves. “How long have you known Hawk?”
Jeni had expected the interrogation, but not from his baby sister. It took her a moment to answer. “A few months.”
“But you just got serious.” It wasn't a question.
Jeni answered anyway, just to have something to say. “Yes.”
Luna smiled. “It's nice. I don't think anyone's seen him like this since—” She cut off abruptly and turned away. “Purple coneflower—that's echinacea. You can make a tincture out of the roots. Bethany swears by it. Says it'll knock out a cold quicker than anything.”
The conversation was clearly over. Jeni swallowed the urge to question the girl further, but she couldn't entirely quell her curiosity. No one had seen Hawk like this since…what?
Since who?
Luna pointed to a row of tall hedges at the edge of the garden. “And those are barberry bushes. The fruit's kind of sour, but it makes good jelly. Careful of the thorns, though.”
Barberry. It snagged against a memory, and Jeni closed her eyes. She could picture the pages she'd read, and she focused on one, from an old, dusty book Dallas had kept in storage, one filled with hand-drawn sketches and information. “You don't worry about wheat rust?”
“The strains of wheat we grow here are resistant to fungal infection,” Alya said from behind them. When they turned, she was studying Jeni again—the same measured assessment from the previous day. “Did you grow up on a farm?”
It took every ounce of self-discipline she had not to squirm. “I'm from the city. But I've been helping out with the gardening projects in Four.”
“Ah.” Alya didn't look away from her. “Luna, love, they need help getting the babies settled down for lunch. Could you run in and give them a hand?”
“Sure.” Luna spared Jeni a quick wave before weaving her way through the beds toward the house.
Just like that, she was alone with Alya and her withering scrutiny. The urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of her own nerves almost overwhelmed her, but Jeni pasted a polite smile on her face instead.
Alya tilted her head. “I was listening to the last little bit. You're looking for medicinal herbs?”
“Dallas thinks it would be a good precautionary measure in case of supply shortages.” The truth, such as it was, since he'd readily agreed with her when she'd brought it up.
“I see.” Alya turned and waved a hand. “Walk with me. I'll show you around.”<
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She headed around the side of the house, past a large, cabin-like structure closer than the other barns and sheds. It was huge, with several chimneys dotting the roof at regular intervals. “That's the smokehouse. We mostly cure pork, though we keep some cows and chickens to fill our own tables.”
Silence fell again, so heavy that Jeni's palms actually started to sweat. Which was the absolute height of stupidity, because so what if Hawk's mother disapproved of her? He was a grown man, for Christ's sake. And Jeni had never been ashamed of herself, or of anything she'd done, and she wasn't about to start now.
So why did it matter so much?
Alya stopped at the top of the next rise. Down in the gentle valley before them, people clustered around the new, yellow framework of a small building. The sounds of sawing and hammering drifted up, along with the low drone of conversation and the occasional laugh or shout.
They were too far away for easy recognition, but Jeni spotted Hawk immediately. The way he moved was unmistakable, all leashed strength and control, whether he was raising a support beam into place or climbing into the cage for a fight.
Or touching a woman.
Jeni's cheeks heated. She'd never be able to look at another cluster of trees without picturing the moonlight filtering through the leaves or the shadows melding together to form the illusion of privacy. The association was imprinted on her brain now, along with all the things she'd discovered about Hawk—like the fact that he didn't just crave her submission, he got off on it. Hard.
The whole collar thing made a lot more sense now.
Alya shaded her eyes and stared down the hill. “They're putting up a new house. One of Shipp's boys finally coaxed one of Hawk's sisters into marrying his sorry ass, and we're out of bedrooms again. Bethany and her family are next up to get their own space, so that one'll be hers.”
Jeni still couldn't wrap her brain around how huge the families were. “There are so many children here.”
“My late husband took ten wives. Between us, we gave him fifty-five children. Hawk has forty-three brothers and sisters who made it to adulthood.” Alya dropped her hand and turned back to Jeni. “We didn't have Eden messing with our water, but the bastard still gave us fertility drugs. Twins and triplets were more efficient. More dangerous, but worth the risk. To him.”