“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.
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?”
His gaze sliced to her silently.
Yeah. That was what she figured.
“Go talk to your son, Zeke.” She picked up her clothes from the floor when she really wanted to sink to the tile and sob. “I’ll get dressed and head home. Maybe I’ll see you again . . . sometime.”
She turned away from him. She wanted him to say something, anything. To blame her, to rage, whatever. After all, his teenage son had just caught him getting a blow job in the kitchen. It had to be a major catastrophe in any man’s life. It was sure as hell a major catastrophe in her life.
“Go home,” he told her, his voice hard despite its very softness. “We’ll talk later.”
Uh-huh. She just bet they would. Like never.
She glared at his retreating back as she jerked her bra on and hurriedly clipped it. With shaking hands she pulled her shirt over her head and jammed her arms into the proper holes. She held back her tears. She held back her anger.
Until she backed the Harley out of the garage. She hit the gas, spun enough gravel to leave a trench, and raced for the main road.
Fuck him. Fuck it all. She’d had enough.
EIGHT
Shane was slightly in shock. He paced the backdeck, ran his fingers through his hair, and mumbled another curse. Hell. Some things a guy didn’t need to know about.
Sometimes, a guy needed to be a little more careful.
Hell, he’d seen the Harley in the garage; he just hadn’t thought. His dad never brought women home. It was just something that never, ever happened. Especially in the middle of the day.
Sheriff Zeke Mayes didn’t do “nooners.” Shane almost laughed out loud. Hell, he didn’t know if he should be mortified or laughing. Because he’d wondered if his dad was some kind of fucking monk or something. At least now he knew that one wasn’t happening.
But hell, walking in on him? Him and Rogue Walker?
Shit. He’d had enough fantasies about Rogue himself; he didn’t need to see his dad doing her.
His dad was going to kill him. It was that simple. Shane had seen his face. His dad was freaking going to kill him. He flinched at the sound of the door opening behind him and closing softly. He paused, took a deep breath, then turned around.
Yeah, Dad was going to kill him. He was scowling at him, arms crossed over his re-buttoned uniform shirt, his expression forbidding.
