Naughty November #6
Alaskan bill-collector Wynne Smith has a problem. Actually, she has two. The first is sexy, six-foot, Deputy US Marshal, Seth Vassar, fresh off the plane from Dallas, Texas and looking for answers to a five year old murder investigation. The by-the-book marshal doesn’t take no for an answer any more than Wynne likes to let a puzzle go unsolved.
Which leads to her second problem. A serial killer intent on making Wynne pay for destroying his next work of art.
Now Wynne has to guard her heart against a man she knows is going to leave her while she tries to keep one step ahead of a maniac.
In a game this deadly, her only hope lies In A Lover’s Silence.
A chuckle slipped past his lips. He shook his head. “I’m never gonna figure you out, am I?” He shed his shirt.
Wynne stilled, her cautionary voice screamed at her to tread carefully. Not to expose herself to any more pain than she could handle. She had to know. “Do you want to?”
Seth eased away enough to slide her leggings and panties off. Remaining silent, his eyes never left hers as he shrugged out of his shoulder holster and set the gun on the nightstand then stripped free of the rest of his clothes.
The look on his face and in his eyes made Wynne regret asking. She couldn’t tell if he wasn’t answering because his interest was only temporary, or if he was dealing with his own brand of emotional chaos. Bad enough that her phone call had stirred up memories of the murder of a childhood friend, but this thing — this connection — between them was proving a distraction. For both of them.
And considering how much she hated having things interfere with her plans, she sensed Seth was of the same mind. She sat up, the urge to tug her covers over her was hard to ignore as she watched him toss his jeans aside. It was one thing to have him counting down to when he’d leave Alaska, but the thought that he might harbor a modicum of resentment toward her because she was getting between him and the answers about who killed Victoria — Lacy — and her son sent a chill through Wynne’s core.
Determined to bury any vulnerability, Wynne scooted to the edge of the bed and stroked her fingers over his rigid cock. If she gave him, and herself, something else to think about, she wouldn’t have to acknowledge the fact he hadn’t answered her question.
The soft feel of his flesh was a stark contrast to the firmness of the shaft it covered. The scent of musk and spice filled her lungs as she drew a deep breath, leaned forward, and took the crest into her mouth. Tentatively, she slid her tongue across the sensitive tip, moaning at the salty flavor of his skin.
A shudder racked Seth’s frame. He groaned before his fingers fisted in her loosened hair. “Christ, woman, warn a guy before you do that.”
Wynne lifted her head and licked her lips. She smiled and met his gaze as she tightened her fingers around him. “What? You don’t like it?”
The press of his fingers and the wicked grin lifting his lips belied his protest. “Oh, yeah, I like it. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
She stroked her tongue over the tip’s opening and replied, “Well, I wouldn’t want to be predictable.”
Wynne concentrated on the taste of his flesh, the scent of his skin. She could feel his body respond, growing rigid as she stroked her fingers along his shaft. A low moan slipped from him as she rolled her tongue over the crest.
In place of the doubt her vulnerability spawned, Wynne reveled in the power she suddenly felt. Controlling Seth’s pleasure; enhancing hers through his excitement was an empowering feeling. Just as he’d introduced her to the sensations in abandoning herself to the exhilaration of touch and taste last night, she wanted to share the same thrill with him.
She used her tongue and lips, even her teeth to stimulate him. Her hands caressed the length she was unable to take into her mouth. At his urging, her grip tightened, drawing another growl from deep in his chest. His fingers clenched in her hair. The tension building in his frame was visible in the harsh breaths, the taut hold he kept on himself, and the pulse of his arousal.
She cried out when he wrenched himself free, pulled away from her lips and hands. Gripping her waist he shoved her to the center of the bed then followed her down. The press of her swollen breasts, her beaded nipples brushing against him threatened the thin hold he had on his control. He devoured her lips, thrust his tongue hungrily inside. Like a starving man given access to a feast, Seth savored her taste. One hand tangled in her hair, holding her steady for his kiss, while the other slid between the moist petals of her sex, coaxing her body into an arousal equal to his own.
Only it wasn’t enough. He had to be inside her, drive deep, fill her until she accepted who she belonged to. Him and no one else.
A separate part of his mind whispered he was losing focus. Wynne and the emotions she stirred pulled him from the course he’d set when he first decided to travel to Alaska. Find Lacy and Alex’s killer. That was his plan. Burying himself so deep within this woman that it was hard to tell where he ended and she began wasn’t part of that.
At the same time, he recognized the elemental connection between them. Wynne and he were both fighters. Warriors. Determined to keep others safe and protected from all the bad things and bad people in the world. That link was similar in nature to the bond between his adoptive parents. It was strong and everlasting. And he wanted it. Wanted Wynne.
Though her juices coated his fingers, and her cries for release filled his ears, he knew Wynne’s body was still too new to lovemaking to make his possession of her easy. Trying to rein in his animal side, the side that wanted to slam into her, Seth settled between Wynne’s thighs and stroked the delicate portal of her sex with his cock.
She felt hot, wet, ready for him.
“Easy. Give me a minute.” Even as the words left his lips, the savage within took over and he buried his length to the hilt inside her.
She arched beneath him, cried out. Her head thrown back, eyes open wide, staring at the ceiling. Forcing himself to remain still, Seth stroked her face, kissed away the tears welling up on her lashes, spilling onto her cheeks.
Guilt twisted in his gut, but a visceral hum of satisfaction rolled through him. He fought the urge to thrust, hammer himself into her as he felt the contractions pulsing through the flesh surrounding him. She was his. Made only for him. The way her hips cradled his, the slight curve of her belly dovetailed neatly into his abdomen, the pillowy cushion of her breasts against his chest, everything about her fit him.
After her breath slowed, Wynne whispered something. Unsure he’d heard her correctly, he asked, “What, baby?”
Her voice was stronger this time. “Move.”
He stifled the impulse to growl ‘No’ and nodded, soothed away the last of her tears. “Okay, give me a second. I’ll get up.”
Her fingers gripped his ribs. She shook her head and sighed. “No, don’t leave, just move.” She pushed her hips against his.
Seth cursed. He braced his arms on the bed beside her shoulders and shifted his weight off of her. Shaking his head he began to ease out, but Wynne’s legs lifted to lock around his waist.
He froze, counted to twenty, then thirty, and tried to get her to understand. “Baby, I can’t. It’s too soon. I’ll hurt you.”
Her eyes were closed. She licked her lips and whispered, “It feels so good, Seth. Please. Move.” Again she thrust her hips upward, opened her eyes, the plea clear in her grey-hazel gaze.
The instant he looked down into her eyes, he was lost. Only passion stared back at him, slipping the last of his restraint and freeing the caveman within. He reached back and pulled first her left hand, then her right from around his chest, stretched them up, over her head, and pinned them to the bed.
Excitement kindled in her gaze as she tried to free herself from his hold, but he wouldn’t let go. He gripped both wrists in one hand and slowly slid the other to her hip. “Move? Like this?” he asked as he rolled his hips, rubbing his pelvis against hers, his cock firmly settled inside.
Wynne’s eyes fluttered closed, her legs tightened around him. A low moan issued from her lips, reassuring Seth that what she was experiencing wasn’t pain. He decided to tease her a bit more. See how willing she was to demand what she wanted. How long she could hold off climax.
Despite the grip of her thighs, he began a slow withdrawal. “Or should I move like this?” he asked before thrusting back into her in slow increments.
Wynne squirmed, her body practically vibrating with arousal. He took his time, alternating slow languid thrusts with fast, deep, motions, each time making sure to ask what she wanted, what she liked. His own needs were submerged beneath the determination to find what pleased this woman — his woman — most.
Time after time he’d take her to the brink of climax then halt, holding her still, forcing her to relax, slide away from the edge. Each time his body protested as vehemently as her, but the sensations were nearly addicting; the scent of her skin; the damp slide of her flesh against his as sweat beaded on their skin. Her body hot and ripe, squeezing his, learning a rhythm of grip and release that wore away at his control.
For the first time in an hour, Seth set his lips to hers and kissed her. A deep tongue-tangled kiss, establishing, in his mind, his ownership of her. He nipped her bottom lip as he pulled back. “Look at me.”
Heavy lids fluttered open, her eyes were unfocused; the pupils expanded so wide only a thin ring of vibrant color surrounded them. Flecks of yellow, green, and blue added to the grey, distracting him until she shifted beneath him, rubbing her breasts against his chest.
Seth chuckled. “Need something?”
Her nod was jerky, inelegant, as if her muscles were no longer under her control.
He kept his pace slow, steady, never too deep; just enough to remind her he was there. “What is it?”
Her tongue peeked out to lick her lips. “Please,” she croaked her voice hoarse.
Heat filled her cheeks, but she didn’t say the words.
Seth squeezed her wrists. “Don’t move your arms, understood?” He waited for her nod before slipping his hand away to brush the sweat-dampened hair from her cheeks. Seeing the need in her eyes, he asked, “Do you want to come?”
“Y — yes.”
He dipped his head and nibbled at the moist curve of her throat, inhaling the spicy scent of cinnamon mingled with her unique aroma. “Then ask me.”
A shudder moved through her as if she fought her own climax, deferring to him before setting it free. The knowledge spiked his own arousal, tightening the coil of heat building at the base of his spine.
When she remained quiet, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip, Seth held her gaze and told her, “Say it. Say, ‘Seth, may I come?’”
Her lips moved but he didn’t hear anything.
“Say it. Come on, baby,” he encouraged, his need eclipsed by the desire to hear her ask.
Finally, “Please, Seth, may I come?” The words held both plea and censure. The light of rebellion gleamed in her eyes even as the passion consumed it.
Her body convulsed around his, her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tight as her body quaked beneath him. From deep inside her, he felt the waves of release ripple through her, cresting then rising, over and over until it swept him into the vortex and the only thing registering in his mind was the sheer pleasure to be found in her arms.