Cutter's Lady

by Candace Camp

  She could feel the movement of Cutter’s shrug against the bed. “Who knows? We used to know each other pretty well. He was an officer in the old San Cristóbal army when I was a U.S. military consultant here and we used to grab beers together.”

  “He was in the former government’s army?”

  “Yeah. He became increasingly disillusioned with the army and the government in general, though. He was very close to Teresa, and she influenced him, I guess. Especially her death. Anyway, he left the army sometime after I was discharged, and within a year he was fighting for the guerrillas. Now he’s the leader. I haven’t seen him in several years. People change, particularly when they’re on the run. It’s a hard life; it makes people hard. Having power also changes people, and now Mora has power, at least with his group. I don’t know. He may spit in my eye.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think he will. At worst, he’ll be cold to us. He knows I’ve helped Sister Mary Margaret, and he has great respect for her.”

  “He knew her, too?”

  “Yeah. When I was in her hospital, wounded, he used to visit me. He and Mary would talk about all sorts of things. Vicente had a more philosophical nature than I do, and he was troubled because he was losing faith in his own people. So he would talk to her. He was extremely fond of her.”

  “Isn’t everyone?”

  “Why, Leslie…” Cutter rose up on one elbow, turning to her. “Still jealous?”

  Leslie’s mouth twisted. “I am not jealous. I was never jealous of Mary.”

  “Liar.”

  “I am not!” Leslie rolled over to face him furiously. “I don’t care what your relationship with her is—or with anyone else, for that matter.”

  She stopped, suddenly breathless and uncertain. She shouldn’t have turned over where she could see him. Cutter loomed above her, so close she could feel the tickle of the hairs on his arm beside her. A strip of moonlight through the tiny window highlighted his skin but cast his eyes into deep shadow. She could see the harsh planes of his face, the curve of his shoulders, the hard expanse of his chest darkened by hair. A faint smile played about his mouth, and to Leslie it looked distinctly predatory. Images of bathing his chest earlier flooded her mind. She couldn’t stop remembering how his skin felt beneath her hands, couldn’t stop wondering how it would taste.

  Cutter ran a forefinger slowly down her cheek. Leslie’s heart began to slam in her chest. His finger moved to her lips and traced them lingeringly. Leslie felt a compelling urge to take his finger between her teeth and bathe it with her tongue. She wondered what he would do. “You aren’t jealous,” Cutter told her softly, “just about as much as you don’t want me.” His face loomed closer. “I’m more honest. I’ll admit that I want you so bad it hurts.”

  His lips grazed hers and retreated fractionally. He spoke, his breath teasing at her lips. “Be my woman tonight. For real.”

  Leslie’s throat was so dry she couldn’t speak. His words deepened the growing ache between her legs. Primal passion, she told herself, engendered by the release of adrenaline that their danger had caused. A simple, physical thing, which she refused to yield to. Her mind was stronger than her body, and so was her will. She didn’t give in to foolish impulses or destructive urges. “No,” she grated out. “It’s crazy. We couldn’t. There isn’t even a door. Anyone could come in at any moment.”

  “It wouldn’t be anything they haven’t seen before. They’ll leave.”

  “I don’t want to be on public display! Velasquez is probably sitting out there watching us right now.”

  “He couldn’t see anything; it’s too dark in here.” Cutter’s hand slipped down her body, exploring the softness of her breasts and the gentle give of her stomach, the sharp points of her hipbones. Leslie had to hold back the urge to moan. “Besides, he joined his buddies by the fire when we came in here.” His fingers traveled down her leg and slowly up again, curving over the roundness of her ass, and his mouth teased against hers. “This could be our last night on earth and I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

  “Can’t you be serious about anything?” Leslie was glad to have something to focus on besides trying not to respond to his touch. “We’re in the middle of a rebel camp, and you’re making jokes about being murdered! Your friend may not turn up. We really could be dead tomorrow. I think some of those guys would shoot us for looking at them the wrong way.”

  “Maybe making jokes about it is the only way I can stop myself from doing what I really want to.” His face was deadly serious now and so close that she could see the blaze of his eyes even in the dark. Leslie had no doubts about what it was he really wanted to do.

  Cutter sighed and dropped his head, burrowing in her neck. His lips were warm and velvety, sending shivers through her as he spoke. “God, you smell good.” He kissed her neck, teasing with his teeth and tongue. His breathing was ragged. “Leslie. I promised myself I wouldn’t let you get to me like this.”

  His mouth slid up to her ear, nibbling at it with teeth sheathed by his lips. His tongue softly traced the intricacies of her ear. “But I want you so much, I’m ready to beg.” His voice was feverish, his breath searing against her skin as he moved across her cheek to her mouth. He paused for a moment, his mouth hovering over hers. “Tonight, when your hands were all over me, I could have burst from wanting you.” He kissed her, his mouth hot and urgent, opening hers to the full passion of his kiss. His tongue was velvet and silk and fire, roaming the sensitive flesh inside her mouth, seeking to drive away her restraint.

  Leslie tried to remember why this wasn’t smart, why she had been hiding from it, but no reasons came to her mind. She was fast becoming conscious of nothing but the scent, feel and taste of Cutter; he was overpowering, dizzying. He was consuming her. He was making her want to be consumed. Tentatively Leslie’s hands slid up his arms, exploring the differing textures of hair and skin. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his arms, and she pressed her body upward, moving her mouth against his.

  Cutter sucked in his breath in surprise and his kiss turned fierce and hungry. He shifted so that the full length of his body lay on hers, glorying in the soft yielding of her flesh beneath his hard weight. Cutter moaned and slid his leg up and down the length of hers; his hands dug into her hair, cupping her head and holding it still under the onslaught of his kisses. He was seized with a fury of desire. He wanted to touch her everywhere, kiss her everywhere, take her immediately and explore her entire body, all at the same time.

  Leslie clung to him, almost frightened by the sheer intensity of his passion, yet unbelievably stirred by it, as well. She ached to respond to him with equal passion; she wanted to know his touch, his taste, the full power of his body. She wanted the wildness, the freedom. A door was opening on something she had never known before, and she had to see it. Had to have it.

  “Cutter,” she breathed as his mouth released hers. His frenzied lips trailed down her throat. He found and caressed the pulse at the base of her throat as his hands moved up to cup her breasts.

  “Stop me now,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and a bit shaky. “If you don’t want me, stop me now. In a minute I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

  Leslie’s eyes were soft and glowing. She reached out to slide her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of it trickling between her fingers. “I don’t want to stop you.”

  He made a strange low sound, half groan, half sigh, and he buried his face against her breasts.

  Chapter 11

  Cutter’s hands were slow on Leslie, his tongue was heavenly. He removed her clothes piece by piece, moving his mouth hungrily over the skin he revealed. He went so slowly that he tortured them both, but it was a delicious torment, a secret slowly exposed. Cutter trailed kisses over her neck, and Leslie breathed in a sharp breath as he moved lower, finally cupping her breasts with his hands. His tongue flicked over her pink-brown nipples, arousing them to hard points. He pulled one into his mouth, su
cking it into a tighter and tighter bud before moving to the other. Leslie tried to remember that there were people outside, tried to remember to stay as silent as she could. But as Cutter teased her with his tongue it was as if an invisible cord connected them, and Leslie’s abdomen grew warm and she let out a low groan. He moved back up and took her mouth in a long deep kiss while his hands drifted down over the softness of her stomach to the joining of her legs. His fingers caressed her there, discovering the eager dampness, and Leslie felt his sigh of satisfaction against her mouth. His callused fingertips stroked slowly and then faster, and Leslie clasped her legs together at the sweet ache that sprang from his touch.

  Leslie moved her hands restlessly over Cutter, loving the feel of his smooth skin stretched taut over firm muscle. She traced the curves and planes of his body with her fingernails, and he groaned and rubbed against her. She circled his flat nipples with her thumbs and delighted in the tremor that ran though him. Her hands slid down over his back and dug into the curve of his ass. Cutter tightened and his mouth dug into her fervently. He rolled over and Leslie felt the loss of his hand right where she ached for his touch. But as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her hard into his chest, she yearned for something more than just his fingers. Their legs tangled and untangled, intertwining in a continual, hungry search. Leslie thought she would fly apart if Cutter didn’t hurry up, yet she also didn’t want him to stop the amazing, constantly building energy he was pulling forth with every kiss and caress. Their bodies rubbed against each other, slick with sweat; their breath came in hard, fast pants. And the sound and feel drove their desire even higher.

  By the time Cutter reached for a condom, Leslie could think of nothing else but putting it on so he could finally be inside her. As she helped him roll it on, he shuddered under her fingers and kissed her harder. At last Cutter moved between her legs and came into her, filling her completely. Leslie let out a low sound of satisfaction. She was suddenly complete, though she had never realized before that any part of her was missing.

  She moved her hips and squeezed her legs together, experimenting with marvelous feeling, and Cutter gasped. His fingers dug into the bed, gripping tightly to retain control. He didn’t want to fling himself into the dark realm of pleasure quite yet, no matter how enticing Leslie’s movements were. He wanted to give Leslie time to get there. He wanted them to reach the outer limits of passion together.

  He thrust slowly at first, then faster and harder, driven by his hot, pounding need. Leslie encircled him with her legs, shifting to accommodate him more fully. She wanted to take all of him inside her, wanted to feel the full merging of their bodies. She dug her fingers into his back, and her head twisted on their makeshift bed. She surged higher and higher, filled with a sparkling rush of sensations that grew more intense and demanding by the moment, until she felt as if she would be ripped apart by their urgency.

  She clawed and writhed frantically, panting out tiny whimpers of longing. Cutter’s mouth came down on hers, sealing it in a wild kiss, swallowing her sounds of desire, and he shook with deep tremors as he finally let go off all the passion that he had been holding back since he’d first seen Leslie in that dingy bar. His shuddering ecstasy was the final spark to the explosive hunger within her, and Leslie burst into flames. Heat flooded her abdomen and coursed throughout her body, and she cried out as she came apart.

  Cutter sagged against her, his breath harsh and ragged, and burrowed his face into her neck. His skin jumped and quivered from his former tension and its abrupt release. He was damp with sweat, and his back was now cool beneath her hands. Leslie touched his hair and found it wet around the edges. She smiled, filled with leisurely contentment and a deep satisfaction knowing how much she had affected Cutter. He raised his head, and his lips lightly brushed her cheek and ear. “Lady, you turn me inside out.”

  Leslie sighed happily, nuzzling against his neck. He shifted his weight off her, quickly disposing of the condom and then coming back to put his arms securely around her. Together they drifted into a heavy, satisfied sleep, their bodies touching at every point.

  ***

  Leslie awoke hazily. It was dark, and she was disoriented. Something weighed her down, and one arm was numb. She tried to move and found that her head and one side of her body could not. There was tremendous weight on her, pressing her down into the mattress. The weight shifted and mumbled, and suddenly she was aware of where she was and what had happened. It was Cutter’s sleep-limp body sprawled across half of her; it was his heavy arm on her hair that kept her head immobile. Leslie reached up and moved the arm so that she could release her head. Cutter grunted and rolled over onto his back, throwing his arm above his own head.

  Relieved of his weight, Leslie sat up, rubbing her numbed arm. It tingled back to life. She felt stiff and a little sore—and gigglingly, blissfully happy. A smile curved her lips. She brought up her knees and rested her cheek against them, dreamily remembering the night before. It had been very unlike her. Yet she could not remember anything in her life that had been as exciting or as beautiful. For that brief time she had been transported, she had been a creature of raw emotions and desires. It had been wonderful.

  She glanced over at Cutter. It must be the beginning of dawn, for a dim light crept in through the open door and window, sifting through the darkness of the room and palely outlining Cutter’s features. Asleep, he was vulnerable, all grimness and hardness erased from his face. His lashes lay dark and long against his cheeks, the sun lines around his eyes were softened and his mouth was full and relaxed. Leslie ran a gentle finger down the middle of his forehead and along the line of his nose, dropping off onto the indentation of his upper lip. She followed the ridge and dip of his lips and the strong curve of his chin onto the tender skin of his throat, stopping at the soft hollow.

  His chest was bare, the sleeping bag shoved down to below his navel, and Leslie surveyed his sleeping form. There was a strong masculine beauty to his naked body, a symmetry and hardness that translated into grace of form. His chest wasn’t wide or barrel shaped, but it was firmly padded with muscle, as were his shoulders and arms, giving him a smoothly sculpted look. The light brown hair on his chest was not thick, but it curled invitingly, beckoning her, and led in a tempting V to the shallow cup of his navel. Leslie’s finger slipped over his chest, too, discovering the feel of his hair, curling around his nipples and tracing the curving ridges of his ribs. She followed the straight, flat line of his sternum and moved off his ribs onto the far softer flesh of his stomach. Her finger circled his navel and dipped in. She paused and looked at the bedroll covering the rest of his body.

  “Don’t stop now,” came the low rumble of Cutter’s voice, and Leslie glanced up, startled. Color rose in her cheeks.

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “I woke up very pleasantly.” His eyes were sleepy and half-closed, and his lips had the faintly bruised look of passion. “Go ahead. Explore.”

  Leslie smiled a little, shy with him, yet pleased by his words and excited to do just as he requested. She turned back the cover, revealing his slim hips and the long line of his legs. It was evident that her touch had already stirred him.

  His pelvic bones were sharp, upthrusting points, the skin between them taut and smooth. His legs, lightly furred, were long and leanly muscled. He was a beautiful man, she thought, utterly male, and the mere sight of him caused her stomach to flutter. Already a pulsing ache was starting low in her abdomen, heavy and warm.

  Leslie caressed the narrow expanse of his pelvis, surprised at the satin smoothness of it, and moved down onto his legs. Her fingers explored the line of his rock-hard muscles, moving down to his ankles and back up, teasingly light and slow. He moved his legs apart, saying nothing, but there was a bright, feral glitter in his eyes. Leslie followed the invitation, letting her fingers wander up and across and down the inside of the opposite thigh, lingering when he sucked in his breath sharply.

  She moved around the core of his d
esire without touching it and came back up to his chest. She straddled him and began to caress his chest with both her hands. Lovingly she paid tribute to his body, roving over his chest and stomach and arousing his nipples to tight points. All the while his desire pulsed and swelled intimately against her. His eyes closed, the lids thin and fragile, and his skin was stretched tautly across his facial bones. His mouth widened and slackened.

  At last he spoke, his voice husky. “I want to feel your mouth on me.”

  Leslie bent to nuzzle his neck, then trailed down over his chest, tasting the salt of his skin, nibbling and bathing. She teased his nipples with her lips and teeth, then sucked them into her mouth and ran her tongue over the hard buds. Cutter’s breath rasped in his throat. She slid off him and continued the exploration with her mouth. Her tongue delved into his navel, causing him to arch and dig his hands into the bedding beneath him, and went on to crisscross his abdomen, making intricate designs. As her mouth caressed him, her hand went between his legs, over and around, circling and approaching, yet always drawing back before she reached her target. He groaned and moved his legs restlessly but made no move to hasten the sweet torture.

  Her mouth moved back up to his nipples, then, at last, her hand moved to the satin fire at the center of his desire, curving around him and gently playing with her fingertips. Cutter shuddered and moved his hips instinctively, pushing against her hand.

  Leslie released him and went to his mouth. She poised above it for an instant, then came down to kiss him. It was a long, deep kiss, and she imitated the slow, intimate search that Cutter had made of her mouth with his tongue. His breath seared her cheek, and his hands came up to touch her with hot intimacy. At last she pulled away, and Cutter reached into his bag, pulling out a condom. He clasped her hand in his, twining his finger with hers for an instant before handing it off to her. His eyes shot straight into her, compelling and glittering.

  “Put it on.” He said, watching her every move as she opened the package and took the condom out. “With your mouth.” Leslie had never been great at following orders, but the way he said this—his pupils huge and captivating, his eyes saying something inside him might disintegrate if she didn’t—she felt like he might be even more under her control than she was under his. She’d never felt so powerful. Placing the condom in her mouth, Leslie wrapped her hands around him, holding him steady and restraining his eager hips. Gently, she used her lips to carefully roll the condom all the way down. She ran her mouth up and down a few times, enjoying how Cutter’s eyes closed in a look that was part pleasure, part pain.