Chapter 11
Londyn had nearly diedseveral times in the past couple of days, but nothing felt as close to transcending to heaven as that kiss.
For years, she’d thought herself cold, passionless and unable to feel deeply about other humans besides her family.
Until she’d met Nash.
From the moment he’d insisted on taking over her protection, she’d been at once annoyed and frustrated. Perhaps that had been why she’d instinctively pushed back, insisting she didn’t need him.
Had her body recognized what her mind had refused to see? That this man could ignite within her core an inferno so hot nothing could extinguish the flame?
She fell into the man, giving everything she had to that kiss, desperately clinging to him as if her life depended on it. Just like it had as she’d clung to his hand in the raging river.
He stepped behind her and closed the stall door. Not that it gave them complete privacy. The stall doors only rose five feet from the ground. Anyone could walk into the barn, peer over the top of the door and see what was going on inside.
Rather than make her want to stop, the idea of someone catching them in the act was titillating, almost dangerous.
Nash broke the kiss and stepped away, his gaze holding hers. Then he grabbed one of the sleeping bags and untied the strap holding it in a tight roll. Grasping the end, he flicked his wrist, popping the bag open.
Londyn reached for the zipper and quickly ran it all the way down the length, around the corner and freed the width. She took one end. Nash held the other, and they stretched the bag out, laying it over the bed of woodchips.
They worked quickly together to spread out the other sleeping bag and laid it over the first.
“I’m going to check on Butterscotch,” Nash said.
A stab of guilt hit her in the gut. “I’ll do it.”
Nash shook his head. “Let me. It’ll give you time to get out of those wet clothes and find something in the items Mitchell sent.”
For a moment, Londyn hesitated.
He held up a hand as if swearing in at a courtroom. “I promise, I’ll let you know if she’s looking any worse.”
Londyn nodded. “Okay.”
Nash left, closing the door behind him. The squeal of metal hinges sounded from the next stall.
Londyn strained to hear his murmured words spoken to the mare. Even talking to a horse, he sounded incredibly sexy.
Though her wet clothes chilled her skin, Londyn was heating up inside. She opened the bag of clothing Mitchell had sent and found a sweatshirt with University of Montana emblazoned across the front. She also found a pair of sweatpants too short for Nash but just right for her.
Londyn kicked off her boots and quickly stripped out of her wet jeans, shirt and bra, hanging them over the sides of the empty trough to allow them to dry as much as possible before she had to put them back on.
She pulled on the sweatshirt, glad it was oversized and fell to mid-thigh, warming her cool skin.
Hinges squealed again, and Nash’s head appeared over the top of the stall door before he pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Butterscotch seems to be doing better. She ate a couple more handfuls of grain.”
“Thanks,” she said, her voice breathy, as if she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs.
His gaze swept over the sweatshirt, down to where the hem brushed across her, mid-thigh.
“You should get out of those wet clothes,” she said, her voice shaking. “Dry clothes are much warmer.” A rush of intense longing washed over her. If they only had one night together, she had to go for what she wanted.
His eyes narrowed. “To be perfectly clear... Are we going where I think we’re going?”
Londyn nodded, her mouth suddenly dry and her pulse hammering through her veins. She moved forward and worked the buttons on his shirt down to where it was tucked into his jeans.
Nash pulled the hem from his waistband.
Londyn pushed the garment over his shoulders and pulled it off, hanging it over the stall door.
Nash unbuckled his belt, toed off his boots and peeled his wet jeans down his legs. Naked, he turned to face her. She took the jeans from him and draped them over the door without actually looking, her gaze otherwise occupied with his gorgeous body and his rigid cock.
“No regrets,” she whispered and stepped into his arms, her hands going behind him to cup his tight ass.
Freed from the wet clothes, his skin was cool to her touch but stretched taut over thick muscles.
Immediately, his cock swelled, pressing against the sweatshirt, nudging her belly. His hands swept over her arms and downward, molding the fabric over her hips, moving lower to slide beneath the hem.
Londyn’s breath caught and held in her throat as Nash’s fingers dug into the flesh of her buttocks and then slid down to grasp her thighs. As he hoisted her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist and lowered herself down until his cock nudged her entrance.
She wanted him inside her more than she wanted to breathe.
“Wait,” he said, cutting through her haze of passion.
“Wait?” She blinked, her gaze meeting his. “Are you kidding?”
He chuckled. “Protection?”
Londyn pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “Right.” She unlocked her legs from around his waist. “Do you have any?”
“I hope so.” Nash lifted her off him and set her on her bare feet on top of the sleeping bags. He grabbed his jeans from where she’d hung them on the stall door. When he dug his hand into the back pocket, he let out a stream of curses.
“What?” Londyn asked.
“My wallet isn’t in my pocket.” He hung the jeans back on the door. “It must have fallen out in the creek.”
Londyn shook her head and walked across the stall to stand beside him. Then she bent and felt around in the woodchips. “It might have fallen out when I hung your jeans.”
While she searched the stall floor, he leaned over the door and stared at the ground on the other side. “There it is,” he said.
Londyn straightened with a crooked smile. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was still in your pocket. I was otherwise engaged with the view of your incredible...assets.”
Nash chuckled, opened the stall, retrieved the wallet and closed the door again. He dug into the wallet. “I just hope I have—” With a grin, he pulled out a small square packet. “Bingo.”
She took the packet and tossed it onto the sleeping bags.
Nash frowned. “But I thought...”
“Ever heard of foreplay?” She grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt and dragged it slowly up her torso, past her breasts and over her head, letting it drop silently to the floor filled with woodchips. Then she took his hand and led him to the makeshift bed.
She was by no means a virgin, but she’d never performed a striptease for a man. Something about Nash and being cocooned in the barn with a storm raging around them made her toss all inhibition to the wild winds blowing against the barn walls. Londyn knelt on the bedding before him.
When he started to lower himself to join her, she shook her head. “Not yet.”
His brow dipped.
“First, this.” She wrapped her hands around his cock and guided it to her mouth. It was hot and thick. “So hard.”
“You do that to me,” he said.
She touched her tongue to the tip of his shaft.
He gasped and jerked backward.
Her eyebrows rose. “Don’t you like that?”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Too much. I doubt I’ll last long.”
“I thought you special ops types were known for your tight control.”
“On our aim, our focus and our emotions. But this?—”
She wrapped her lips around his cock, grasped his buttocks and pulled him in until he bumped against the back of her throat.
“No control. None. Nada.” He sucked in a breath and held it as she eased back slowly, twisting her tongue around his shaft.
His fingers threaded through her damp hair and pulled her back over him.
She took all of him and eased off again, rocking back and forth, faster and faster.
His buttocks tightened beneath her fingers, and his hands gripped her head, gently pulling her off him. “I can’t hold back much longer,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Then don’t.” She laid back on the sleeping bag, fumbled for the condom and waited for him to come to her.
For a long moment, he stood over her, his cock engorged, jutting straight out, impossibly large.
Londyn ran her tongue across her lips, the taste of him lingering in her mouth.
Nash shook his head.
Londyn’s heart seized. Had he changed his mind? Was she being too eager? Had she turned him off?
“You are...” he said, his voice tight, “...beautiful.” Then he dropped to the bedding, leaned over and kissed her so long and so hard she forgot to breathe.
When he relinquished her lips, he traced a path from her mouth to just below her ear and then down the length of her neck to the pulse beating wildly at the base.
Her breathing grew ragged as he moved lower, his hand cupping her breast, plumping it up so that he could take the nipple between his lips and nibble gently.
Her back arched, urging him to take more.
He sucked her tit into his mouth, pulled hard and then flicked the tip with his tongue.
Londyn writhed beneath him, her body undulating with each stroke of his tongue.
Rather than treat the other breast to the same, he worked his way hungrily down her torso to the juncture of her thighs, parting her legs so that he could settle his broad shoulders between them.
Then he took her with his mouth, flicking his tongue across her clit, then swirling it slowly. His fingers found her channel and slipped inside her slick entrance with one, then two, then three fingers, thrusting in and out as he sucked her clit into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue.
Londyn had never felt sensations as intense as she did at that moment. Her hips rocked with every brush of his tongue.
She wove her hands into his hair and held him close, reveling in the electric currents that built with each flick and each stroke. The tension became so powerful she let go of all inhibition and shot into orbit in a release so profound she was sure she’d died and gone to heaven.
Wave after wave washed through her until the tide ebbed, and she fell back to earth. Heavy rain pounded the barn”s tin roof, echoing the thundering beat of her heart.
Nash rose on his arms, leaned over and kissed her, the musk of her release on his mouth.
When her senses slowly returned, Londyn realized an overpowering need for more. What he’d started wasn’t nearly enough.
“Did you like that?” he asked.
She nodded and then shook her head.
His brow furrowed. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a not enough,” she said. “I want more.”
He chuckled. “Greedy, are you?”
She nodded, planted her hands on his chest and pushed him off her and onto his back.
Londyn rolled over, straddled his legs and searched the bedding.
“Looking for this?” Nash held up the little square packet.
Londyn snatched it from his hand, tore it open and rolled the condom over his shaft, all the way down to the base. She paused to fondle his balls before rising over him and easing herself onto him.
As his shaft filled her, the air left her lungs. She flung back her head and took all of him into her, his girth stretching her tight channel.
“Sweet Jesus,” he murmured. “You feel so damned good.”
“I never knew it could feel...” she rose up and lowered onto him again, “... like this.”
He let her set the pace for a few moments. Then he gripped her hips and lifted her off him. “I need to drive,” he said.
She rolled onto her back and opened her legs to him.
He came into her, thrusting hard and fast, again and again.
Londyn dug her heels into the sleeping bag and pushed upward, meeting his thrusts with ones of her own, forcing him deeper.
Fiery sensations rippled through her as she ascended to the very edge and launched into the stratosphere. Thunder boomed outside in the storm like a crescendo of her orgasm.
Nash dropped down on her, gathered her into his arms and thrust once more, his body going rigid.
For a long, crushing moment, he remained buried inside her, his cock pulsing against her channel.
When Nash rolled to the side, air rushed into Londyn’s lungs.
Thunder boomed again, rattling the tin roof.
A frightened whinny sounded from the stall beside them.
Londyn wanted to prolong their intimate connection longer. The mare might just be protesting about the frightening percussion of the storm outside. If Londyn just stayed where she was, the horse would grow calm.
When Butterscotch whinnied again, Londyn sighed.
“I’ll check on her.” Nash slid out of her and pushed to his feet.
“Let me,” Londyn said, scrambling to stand, her legs wobbling.
“We’ll do it together,” he said and opened the stall door.
“Naked?” Londyn peered around the open door.
“Someone would have to be crazy to be out in this storm.” He stepped out of the stall and held out his hand.
A flash of lightning made the overhead lights flicker and then remain on.
Feeling a little self-conscious and a whole lotta wicked, Londyn stepped out of the stall, naked as the day she was born, to stand beside Nash.
His body was gorgeous, the muscles toned and rippling with every movement.
She wanted to touch every inch of him.
He opened the stall door.
Londyn gasped. “You’re up,” she said, smiling at Butterscotch as she stood with her head in the trough, munching grain and alfalfa.
Londyn stepped into the stall and ran her hand along the mare’s neck. “Glad you’re feeling better. We’re going to take you home in the morning, where you won’t have to worry about anything.”
The mare turned her head and nuzzled Londyn’s breast.
“Hey, save those for me,” Nash said.
Londyn laughed, relieved her horse was on her feet. “Glad to see you’re eating.” She scratched behind the animal’s ears and backed out of the stall.
Nash closed the door and latched it. “Speaking of eating...” he said.
Londyn ran her hand over her torso and down to the juncture of her thighs. Her pussy was still deliciously wet and slightly achy. “Are you hungry?”
Nash’s eyes flared. “Starving.” He swept her into his arms and carried her back into their stall, where he laid her on the sleeping bags and then kissed her.
She was just raising her arms to wrap around his neck when he jumped up and reached for the bag of sandwiches.
“Seriously? You’re that kind of hungry?”
He laughed. “I am. It takes fuel to keep this body moving.”
She sat up, her belly rumbling. “Seems a shame to waste the mood.”
“Not when you have grapes.” He pulled sandwiches out of the bag and handed her one. Then, he held up the bag to display the grapes inside. “Grapes are great for getting back in the mood.”
Londyn took the sandwich he proffered. “You’ll have to show me.”
“Oh, I will,” he said with a wink. “But first, we need to eat so we have enough energy to last all night.”
Her sandwich poised in front of her lips, Londyn’s eyes widened, and heat coiled at her core. “All night?” she whispered.
“I’m not wasting a second with you,” he said and leaned across to kiss her lips. “Now, eat. We have grapes waiting for us.”
Londyn sank her teeth in the delicious ham sandwich and quickly chewed, anxious to discover what Nash had in mind.
Grapes?