Chapter 8 #2
Finding a submissive who turned him on and who suited his needs was like a gold miner discovering a giant nugget in his pan.
He bent and teased her clit, enjoying the slick taste of her on his tongue, the delicate muskiness.
In the tender area near her hipbone, he smelled her body lotion. Vanilla and light lavender, he decided.
When she moaned a plea, he lingered there, brushing his lips against her skin. Such a beautiful voice. He’d enjoy gagging her someday—but here and now, he wanted to hear how her liquid southern accent thickened when she said his name.
He could feel her trembling and straining upward, so he pushed two fingers inside her cunt and curled his fingertips forward to the puffy ridged area inside the enveloping hot satin walls. Mercilessly, he rubbed the small spot, taking a moment for a few thrusts, then rubbing again.
Her quivering halted as her muscles tensed.
Almost there. Her face was flushed, her eyes closed, right there with him. He drew the moment out because he could. Because he wanted to. Fuck, she was gorgeous.
Be nice, Ware. With a sigh of resignation, he leaned down and pinned her clit between his teeth, flickering his tongue right over the top. No escape, sweetheart.
Her hips lifted, her breathing stopped, and the squeezing spasms began around his invading fingers. “Atticus.”
Yeah, that accent could make a dead man rise. His cock fucking wanted to be inside her right then.
Before she could recover, he rose and grabbed a condom from the bedside table. Opening his jeans, he sheathed himself and planted one hand beside her shoulder on the bed. “Look at me, Virginia.” He waited until she opened dazed eyes. After swirling his shaft in her juices, he pressed in.
Not fast and rough the way he wanted—not until he knew how well they’d fit—but slow and steady.
Her eyes widened delightfully. “Atticus.” Her neck arched sweetly as her pussy stretched to accommodate him.
Finally, he was buried to the root, and her cunt gripped him like a hotly oiled fist. “Jesus, you feel good.”
She swallowed, eyes a little shocked. “You too.” Her words sounded strained.
“Been a while, pet?” She wasn’t a virgin, but damn, she was tight.
Her nod confirmed his supposition, and he tried to suppress his satisfaction. Instead, he lifted her hips. “Hands out, Virginia. I’d like to feel them on me.”
Her lips curved with pleasure. She didn’t hesitate to run her palms over his arms, his chest. She liked to give as much as receive, and her enjoyment of his body added to his.
After a kiss to show his approval, he ran a finger over her flushed cheek. “You’ve had time to adjust. I’m not going to be rough, sweetie, but I’m going to take you.”
Her answer was to tilt her hips up.
She was a treat. His bed was precisely the right height, and he took full advantage, pumping into her heat, strong and steady, then taking time to rotate and tease her every nerve awake.
When her fingernails dug into his skin, he grinned.
His need to come started deep inside him, centered at the base of his spine, growing almost as fast as his desire to see her climax again.
Why the fuck not? He took her mouth again, invading, feeling like a conqueror, above and below.
Leaving her lips, he straightened. The breeze from the window cooled his heated skin.
The arm beside her shoulder bore his weight as he pushed her right knee away from her body, opening her further so he could reach her clit.
His first touch on the nub made her gasp, and the way she clenched around his erection made his balls contract with a force that almost sent him over.
He huffed a laugh—he loved when a woman had unmistakable signals—and sliding his finger over her clit, he drove her right back up to need.
“I can’t,” she whined, even as her inner thighs quivered and the flush rose in her cheeks. “Don’t.”
Ah, little submissives shouldn’t try to give instructions—because the temptation was too much to prove them wrong. He held her gaze as he deliberately slowed his pumping and concentrated on her clit, watched her focus disappear, her eyes close.
Her back arched beautifully right before her cunt convulsed, battering at him. Her cry revealed as much surprise as it did fulfillment.
Jesus, she was beautiful. He ran his hands over her body, feeling her heart pounding, the softness of her breasts. And then he forced her knees up for still greater penetration and hammered into her.
Her little hands closed on his arms, holding him as firmly as did her cunt. Her hips tried to lift to help his strokes. A sweetie, all right.
At the base of his spine, the pressure increased. His own climax fisted his balls, and as he relaxed his control, jetted out his cock in a long, hot, mind-blowing release.
Jesus, she was liable to kill him.
He tucked her legs around his waist and dropped forward so he could nuzzle the hollow of her throat, taste the light sweat on her neck, kiss her. Her lips were soft and responsive and welcoming.
Her arms had wrapped around him, her legs scissored his waist, her cunt was snug and warm—and she kissed like an angel.
He might be in trouble here.
Gin woke at dawn, disoriented. There was heat and movement along her back—the dog?
But her head lay on something much firmer than her pillow.
The warmth behind her wasn’t Trigger, but Atticus who, to her surprise, had pulled her into his arms to cuddle her.
Or, maybe not cuddle as much as claim. He was curled around her, his arm heavy over her waist, and his hand holding her breast.
Her mind might be awake, but her body didn’t want to move. Not after he’d wakened her in the middle of the night, ignoring her half-awake protests, pinning her arms over her head as his mouth and teeth and fingers worked her into a frenzy of need. Until she was begging him to take her.
And he had, making sure she was satisfied first, and then enjoying himself, putting her into positions she hadn’t thought real people even used.
If he’d been thinking only of himself, she might feel less disconcerted, but he watched her during sex as carefully as he had when he’d roped her up.
He knew before she did when an angle or position got to her, and he’d smile…
and work her, right there until her fingernails would claw at the quilt… or him.
“Can’t sleep?” she heard, his voice a dark rumble, his breath warm on her hair. The hand cupping her breast squeezed lightly, and his thumb stroked her still swollen nipple, sending tingles through her.
“What time is it?”
His head lifted. “Around seven. But it’s Sunday. We don’t have to be at the Lodge until around nine.”
She stiffened. “The Lodge. But…” She’d heard the Hunts mention breakfast.
He moved her hair aside to nip at her nape. “You need to pick up your clothes, right?”
“Um. Yes.” Walk into a roomful of people that had seen her leave with him? She turned in his arms to face him. “Atticus, I don’t know anyone there very well. It would be awkward.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, sending a flush of heat through her as he played with her as he’d done in the pavilion. Stroking her breasts, running a finger over her collarbone, her lips.
“Baby, it might be awkward, but most new situations are. I’m not exactly a lifetime resident of this place either; I’ve only known Logan and Jake for a year or so.”
“I thought you’d been here for years. On a ranch. Sawyer mentioned it.”
“The ranch is in Idaho.”
“What in the world brought you to California?”
He ran a finger along the side of her face, moving the strands of hair away.
In the faint dawn light, his face was carved of shadows, with darkness edging his jawline.
“Sawyer. He was here visiting a buddy, got in that accident, and was sentenced here. Wasn’t doing well in prison, so I moved close. ”
He’d left his home to provide emotional support to his brother. Her heart went all squishy. “Oh. And your family was good with you leaving?”
“My other brother was good. Mom died soon after Sawyer’s discharge from the SEALS—part of why he was having trouble, I think.”
“And your father?”
“He died when I was seven.”
“I’m sorry.” She stroked the softness of his beard, thinking of his mother. Thirty years alone? “Your mama never remarried?”
Under her fingers, his jaw turned to granite. “She did. A few years later, her husband got sent to prison for beating the crap out of her. He had a problem with anger.”
And Atticus still had a problem with him. He was so protective. “I’m sorry. I guess neither of us had much luck with fathers. Mine took off when I was eleven.”
“Found another woman?” His matter-of-fact tone made it easy to answer.
“Eventually, I’m sure. But mostly he wanted more than my mother and I could give him.” Her mouth twisted. Her mother had done everything possible to keep him, and so had Gin. Fancy meals, a clean house, bringing him his drinks, his paper. He’d still walked away. “Please, Daddy, I’ll try harder.”
Atticus’s eyes had softened as he studied her face. “Looks to me like—”
The phone rang, interrupting him, and he rolled away from her with a grunt of exasperation. After glancing at the display, he accepted the call. “Ware.”
The caller talked for a minute.
“Got Gin here,” Atticus said. “Once I return her to Serenity, I’ll meet you at the trailhead.”
He listened, and a wry grin appeared. “Hell yes, you owe me.” His gaze ran over her, and a dimple appeared as he said clearly, “Sweetest ass I’ve had in my bed in a long, long time.”
Gin’s mouth fell open.
After tossing the phone to one side, he rolled, flattening her with his weight.
“Did you call me…?”
“A sweet piece of ass? Mmmhmm. And if I didn’t have to leave, I’d tap this piece of ass.”
His grin said he’d deliberately tried to get a rise out of her. She could read it on his face. For being a ruthless, cynical cop, he had a wicked sense of humor. A giggle escaped as she tried to think of a way to get revenge.
His kiss wiped out any thought she had left.
Eventually, he lifted his head, rubbing his bearded jaw against her cheek in a tender gesture. “You are so delightful.” His voice had turned to a low, smoky rasp that melted her insides.
She wouldn’t call him delightful. More like dominating…and dangerous.
“I fucking hate to leave you.” His lips curved as he pressed his growing erection against her. “Especially now.”
“Oh honey, what a shame you’re going to miss out on morning sex.” She tried to appear prim, but he undoubtedly heard the laughter in her voice.
“Sucks to be me. I’m gonna miss a lot. Morning sex. After-sex snuggling. Shower sex. Breakfast. After-breakfast sex.” His lips curved. “Of course, after that, being as I’m an old man, I’d have a heart attack and be dead before lunch.”
Old man. Right. He must be all of thirty-something. And not an ounce of fat on the man; he was solid muscle. “Oh my, we can’t have you dying. I’ll have the doctor put you on a low-fat, no-sugar, no-beer, and no-sex diet.”
“When hell freezes over. Try it and I’ll tan your ass…again.” He nipped her neck and sent quivers straight to her pussy.
She ran her fingers through the springy hair on his chest. The feel of his rock-hard pectorals made her breathless. Heck, he probably had muscles on his toes. “Where are you headed off to?”
“Search and Rescue.” He kissed her lightly and slid out of bed. “That was Jake. Some kid ran away from home and into the mountains. Dogs lost the scent with last night’s rain. They were hoping I might spot something.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That the dogs didn’t?
“I’m a pretty good tracker.” He put his hands under her arms and pulled her out of bed. “Found you, didn’t I?”