The Nauti Boys Collection

by Lora Leigh

  She nodded slowly before moving away. He started the Tahoe as she moved away and was backing out of the drive as she straddled the Harley and started it with a flick of her wrist.

  The rumble of power filled her senses, reminding her of Zeke.

  Kicking the stand up, she maneuvered the cycle back, turned, and hit the gas as Zeke’s vehicle moved ahead of her.

  Why his house? she wondered. Her heart was racing in her chest through the drive, her palms sweating. She could feel the wind against her breasts, her nipples peaking in anticipation, and she knew why. It wasn’t because they couldn’t talk in the Walker driveway; it was because Zeke had no intention of talking.

  What were her intentions though? God, she didn’t want to become one of his hidden little secrets. One of the women that he kept behind closed doors and never claimed in public. But her body was raging. The memory of his touch, the need for more was building inside her like a volcano ready to explode.

  She dreamed about him. She ached for him. She was the biggest fool living if she allowed him to do that to her.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, another part of her argued. She would never know if she didn’t try.

  He was going to break her heart, her head warned her, but she was damned if she could stop it from happening. Zeke was her weakness, and she knew it.

  She made the turn onto the farm behind him. The graveled road was long and winding, moving through the valley and angling up and around to another smaller, clear valley where the two-story wood-sided house sat beneath the blazing sun. It was surrounded on three sides by forests, and in the back led directly to the back-waters of Lake Cumberland.

  A glimmer of water could be seen through the trees; the scent of it surrounded her as Zeke drew the Tahoe into an opened two-car garage and then motioned her in beside him.

  The doors slid closed as the engines shut off. Rogue closed her eyes for a second, realizing what he was doing. Hiding her Harley, hiding her presence.

  Breathing in deeply, she kicked the stand into place before swinging from the cycle. Pulling the small backpack from her shoulders, she looped it over the bar on the back of the seat, all the while watching as he moved toward her.

  His expression was predatory. It was hungry.

  “Hiding me, Zeke?” She couldn’t keep the question inside as he came abreast of her.

  He paused, stared down at her as some shadow of emotion flickered in his eyes.

  Zeke couldn’t believe he’d allowed his control to slip this far. He never brought a woman to his home. Ever. But he couldn’t stand it any longer. Need was eating him alive, the hunger for the taste of her was wearing at his control until he was like a man possessed.

  It was get her here, or take her in the damned driveway in clear view of Lisa and her grandmother. Now, wouldn’t that just give rise to enough gossip to fuel this county for the next decade?

  “Come on.” He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he gripped her arm and pulled her to the door, only distantly aware of the fact that she hadn’t tried to shove his balls to his throat.

  Men didn’t manhandle Rogue, she didn’t allow it. Until him.

  “You are so pushing your luck,” she warned him as he slammed the garage door behind them and swung around to face her.

  “You think I’m not aware of that?” he asked.

  He knew damned good and well he was pushing his luck.

  “Get ready,” he warned her. “I’m about to push further.”

  Already part of his control was lost. The ability to deny her, to deny the hunger pulsing through him, tempting him. It was shot to damned hell, the edges frayed and broken. But another kind of control kicked in. Instinctive. Dominant.

  His fingers curved around her jaw, pushing her head back as a rush of breath parted her lips and her violet eyes darkened, widened.

  Did she like it?

  Her face flushed as he held her. One hand at her hip, the other controlling her head. His nostrils flared as he drew her scent in. The smell of the mountains rushed around her as the breeze had while she rode. Beneath it was the simple, clean scent of desire and femininity. The smell of the woman that tempted him into his dreams and through every second of reality.

  “You’re a weakness,” he told her, letting his thumb stroke over her jaw as he backed her against the wall.

  “Really?” Her breathing was deep, rough. “I’m surprised, Zeke. I thought big, bad sheriff didn’t have a weakness?”

  “Smart-ass.” His gaze dropped to her lips.

  Tempting, sweet, her tongue licked over them slowly. Teasingly.

  “Now I’m a smart-ass, too,” she whispered, her tone sensual, sexually weak.

  The sound of her need had his dick throbbing. His balls were tight, the need wrapping around him like manacles as he stared down at her, fighting it, fighting what he knew he was going to do.

  “Damn you,” he growled.

  His head lowered, and she was waiting on him. Waiting for him.

  Kittenish little nails dug into his scalp as his lips covered hers and fire erupted through his system. Heat blazed along his nerve endings, dominance and overwhelming sexual starvation erupted through his mind.

  She tasted like sunshine. Like spring. She kissed like the hottest caress of the sun, her lips parting beneath his, her tongue meeting his, her body arching like a slender tree before the force of a summer storm.

  He was lost. Son of a bitch, he was lost in her and he knew it.

  Nothing mattered but more. Kissing her deeper, stronger. Fueling the desire inside her to the depth that his had been fueled. Wiping her mind of everything, anything, but his touch, his taste. Because that was what she did to him. She wiped away the control he prized so highly and revealed the man he kept hidden from the world.

  Because Zeke knew he had never kissed another woman like he was kissing Rogue now. It wasn’t just hunger, it was dominance. It was the dark central core of his sexuality moving in and claiming, when he had never claimed before.

  He controlled the kiss. He held her face in place, fingers on the pressure points of her jaw, keeping her mouth open to him, controlling her ability to wrest that dominance from him. And she was trying. She tempted and she teased, licked at his tongue and tried to suckle it. She moaned when he refused to allow her the upper hand. Her body arched, her nails dug into his scalp, and her hips arched to cushion the hard-on raging beneath his jeans.

  Just this kiss, he had told himself once, long ago. If he could just have this kiss, he would be satisfied. But the kiss only pushed him closer to the brink, made that dominant core stronger, more insistent.

  He let her suckle his tongue lightly before pulling back. He wanted to see her lips wrapped around his cock like that. He wanted to hear her moaning around the thick, hard crest as he shot his release to her throat.

  “You’re dangerous.” He pulled back, nipped at her lips warningly as she tried to follow his kiss.

  “I’m lost.” She sighed, fingers trailing to his neck, her nails prickling over his flesh. “Kiss me again, Zeke. One more time.”

  Her lashes lifted, showing the brilliance of dark, dark violet eyes. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed as her breasts rose and fell roughly.

  “Take the shirt off.” He released her and stepped back enough to allow her to move. “Let me see you.”

  Her face flushed deeper, the color tempting him as it washed over her neck and beneath the collar of the T-shirt.

  Her tongue ran over her lips. Her hands moved to the low-rise waist of her jeans. The metal button slid free.

  His hand caught hers, his gaze narrowing. “Just the shirt, Rogue. Nothing else. Pull it off.”

  She shivered, her eyes shadowed with wariness and excitement as she pulled the material free and eased it up and over her head.

  Zeke felt his jaw tighten as he tried to push back the darker aspects of the man slipping free.

  “The braid,” he said. “Loosen it.”

  “You’r
e bossy.” Her pouty little grin was filled with challenge and defiance despite the fact that her hands lifted to work her hair free.

  He watched her breasts beneath the white skimpy lace of her bra. The material barely covered the hard, pointed flesh of her nipples. The cotton-candy pink tips had his teeth clenching with the need to taste them.

  “Good,” he crooned as her hair fell around her shoulders and down her back.

  His hands lifted to the silken strands, though he kept his gaze on her breasts. “Now take the bra off.”

  “Take your shirt off first,” she whispered. “If you want, Zeke, you can give.”

  And take his hands from her hair? It wasn’t going to happen. He bunched his fingers in the silken strands, lowered his head, and took her lips again. He took her with the kiss. Claimed her. His lips slanted over hers, his tongue working in her mouth until she was moaning and straining closer, her wicked little fingers at the buttons of his shirt, struggling to release them.

  She was fire in his arms and he knew it. Controlling her sexuality would never be easy. Hell, he’d never control it; he didn’t want to control it. He wanted to harness it. He wanted it to burn out of control while he let the flames twist around him.

  A second later, he felt buttons pop as the material of his shirt parted, revealing his chest.

  He pulled his head back, ignored her need for more, and stared down at her.

  “The bra,” he demanded.

  He wanted to suck those sweet, hard little tips into his mouth again. He wanted to taste her, feel her shuddering in his arms.

  Her hands were trembling, her fingers clumsy as she worked the clasp between her breasts loose and shed the bra.

  Hell yeah. This was what he wanted.

  “How pretty.” One hand moved from her hair to cup a hard, swollen mound and caress it.

  “Zeke?” She whispered his name, her voice nervous, uncertain.

  And innocent. The innocence was like throwing gas onto a fire. Damn her. Damn his own depravity because he wanted nothing more than to turn that shade of innocence to sexual knowledge.

  “Does it feel good?” He let his thumb rub over the sensitive tip. “Should I stop, sweetheart?”

  She shook her head, her lashes drifting closed as his head lowered.

  “You know what I’m going to do, don’t you, Rogue?”

  How innocent was she? That question tormented him. Was her experience limited to the event that produced those pictures or had she had more than that couple for a lover?

  Not much more, he decided as his lips brushed over the curve of her breast and she shivered beneath the caress.

  “Drive me crazy?” she accused him, her voice thick.

  He almost chuckled, because that was exactly what he intended to do.

  Keeping his gaze locked with hers, his lips parted, his head lowered. He watched her face, insane lust rising inside him as his lips closed over a tight, hard peak.

  Rogue cried out. The sound wouldn’t stay inside, the need wouldn’t abate. When his lips closed over the ultrasensitive flesh of her nipple she felt electricity sizzle from the tight tip to the swollen bud of her clit.

  She stared down at him in wonder, watching the way his thick, dark lashes fell against his cheeks. The way his cheeks hollowed, his lips drew on her. The sensations were incredible. Electricity and heat sizzled through her, firing her cells and nerve endings, turning her into a shuddering mass of sensation.

  “Zeke.” She whimpered his name, she couldn’t help it. It was incredible. It was a pleasure that drove all rational thought from her mind and had her shuddering in reaction.

  She was on the verge of climax. She could feel the sensations whipping around her clit, pushing her closer. He had one hand in her hair, pulling at the heavy strands. The other was wrapped around her breast, fingers stroking, caressing it, plumping it.

  Shudders raced through her. She needed more. So much more. She was so close, just a little bit closer, just a little bit more. Then his teeth gripped the hard tip and exerted just enough pressure to bring her to her tiptoes and send little quakes of near-release tearing through her body.

  It was fingers of lightning wrapping around her clit. It was heat. It was a shuddering, vibrating rasp beneath her flesh that had her arching, pressing her sex against his thigh, writhing and exploding in pure white-hot pleasure.

  “That was very, very bad, Rogue,” he growled. “I wasn’t ready for you to come yet.”

  “Oh my,” she panted. “Wasn’t that too bad?”

  Her lips curled in satisfied pleasure. She wasn’t finished by a long shot, but she was definitely vibrating from the pleasure that had spiraled through her. She was weak, almost relaxed, and waiting for more.

  “My turn,” he growled, and excitement sizzled through her veins as he pulled back, turned her, and leaned against the wall.

  Rogue licked her lips, then raked her teeth over the lower curve as he took her hands and pulled them to his belt. His gaze was narrowed, watching, probing. Something warned her that if he ever realized she had never done this before, then she could kiss him good-bye right now.

  She wasn’t saying a damned thing.

  The metal button released, the zipper rasped down. A second later she was swallowing tightly as the dark-crested length of his erection was pulled free.

  He palmed the shaft, watched her intently.

  Okay. She’d read about this. She’d watched it on some movies she’d rented. She’d dreamed about doing it. She ached to taste him.

  She laid her lips against his chest and felt him tighten. One hand returned to her hair, his fingers bunching in it as he pressed her closer, lower.

  He tasted hot and male, wild. The short chest hairs tickled her nose, but the taste of his flesh was more than worth it. Feeling him tighten, feeling the power that surged through her as his groan echoed around her.

  He enjoyed her touch.

  She flattened her hands on his abdomen, slid them down slowly as she moved lower, lower. Her heart was racing in her chest, fear and desire, excitement and uncertainty racing through her.

  She wanted him to enjoy her touch. She was terrified he would guess her inexperience.

  Remember the movies, she told herself. Those women knew what they were doing. Think, Rogue. Think.

  Her lips slid over his abdomen as she gripped his thighs. He was breathing hard, his abs flexing, his thighs tight.

  Brushing his hand away from his erection she let her fingers curl around it and moaned at the feeling of silk-covered, heated iron. Blood throbbed along the heavy shaft as a bead of moisture gathered in the small slit on the crest.

  She was breathless, mesmerized. Kneeling before him, holding the hard length of his cock in her hand, she felt alive, energized.

  Her tongue peeked from between her lips, lapped at the creamy droplet, and her lashes fluttered over her eyes at the salty male taste of him combined with the sensual sound of a male curse of pleasure.

  Okay, she was doing okay.

  She licked and his hands tightened in her hair. She opened her lips and drew the hard crown between them, sucking it into her mouth, and felt his other hand slide into her hair, holding her in place.

  “Damn, Rogue.” The sound of his voice was a spark of pleasure along her clit and inside her aching sex. “Ah God. That’s good. So fucking good.”

  She was so fucking good.

  She sucked him deeper, rolled her tongue along the sensitive undercrest in an imitation of what she had read, and was rewarded by a savage flexing of the shaft she still held.

  Oh God. This was so good. He was here, she was touching him, sucking him, and he was enjoying it. His hips were moving as she sucked, fucking against her mouth with smooth, controlled movements.

  Rogue was shaking with anticipation now. Zeke was leaning back against the wall, his thighs were taut, his abdomen flexing, his cock throbbing between her lips as she caressed and licked, sucked and moaned around the rapidly thrusting flesh.
r />   She stroked the shaft with both hands now, needing him. She wanted to taste him, wanted to feel him spilling into her mouth, wanted a part of him that she had never known from any other man.

  “Damn. Yeah,” he groaned as her lashes lifted, her gaze locking with his.

  And it was sexier. It was making her crazy. She could feel herself creaming, saturating her panties with her juices as he held her head tighter.

  “Rogue, baby. I’m going to come. Damn.” He grimaced, his expression tortured as his breath became rougher. “Pull back.”

  He pulled at her hair as defiance flashed through her. She wasn’t pulling back. This was hers. She had waited, fantasized. She had studied, ached. He wasn’t stealing this from her.

  “Sweetheart. Damn you. I’m going to come, Rogue. Straight down your damned throat if you don’t pull back.”

  She wasn’t pulling back. Her tongue worked beneath the thrusting shaft, her mouth suckled, drawing him deeper between her lips.

  “Fuck.”

  She felt his cock flex. He stilled, then dangerously tightened before a low groan preceded the first hard spurt of semen from the heavy cock head as it sank nearly to her throat.

  Oh God. She felt herself shaking, trembling. She was coming. She could feel it. Her thighs tightened as her clit vibrated and throbbed and a lash of heat seared her body as he held her in place, growled her name, and spilled more of the heated, silken release to her mouth.

  “Ah fuck,” he gasped. “Rogue. Son of a bitch, your mouth.”

  His groan was followed by a slam. The slam of a door, a moment of surging tension.

  “Oh hell.” A youthful male voice squeaked. “Oh fuck! Hell!” The door slammed again as Rogue’s eyes widened, staring up into Zeke’s harsh, granite expression as he stared across the room.

  At the door straight across from them. The outside door. The one that would have given a clear view to exactly what the hell was going on. That someone being Zeke’s son.

  If mortification could kill.

  Rogue drew back and stumbled to her feet, her horrified gaze turning to the door, then to Zeke. He was still hard. Sweat sheened his chest and icy fury marked his expression.

  “Well.” She swallowed. She could still taste him. She still burned for him. “I guess I can forget this going any further, huh?”