Текст книги "Nauti Seductress"
Автор книги: Lora Leigh
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
SEVEN
Zoey was in the front garage when Lyrica drove up to the open bay doors. Stepping from her pickup, her sister shot her a chiding smile.
“I want to grow up and be you,” Lyrica laughed as they headed for the steps leading to the second floor of the converted warehouse. “Especially after seeing how totally scared you have Eli of you. I swear, he’s like a grumpy rattler.”
“Eli’s having issues,” Zoey snorted. “And he better keep his mouth shut.”
“Oh, he’ll keep it shut,” Lyrica promised without turning back. “But it’s killing him.” The second Lyrica actually got a look straight at her, Zoey knew there would be no evading her sister’s questions. The bite mark she was sporting at the base of her neck was rivaled only by the one she’d left on Doogan’s neck.
She’d glimpsed the one she left on Doogan before exhaustion dragged her into sleep the night before. The one he’d left on her was just as bad.
Reaching the door, Lyrica stepped through ahead of Zoey, then came to a hard, shocked stop, nearly causing Zoey to plow into her back.
Not that she blamed her sister; Zoey was suddenly rather speechless herself.
Doogan stood in the middle of her kitchen with nothing but a towel secured at his lean hips and the hickey from hell marring the right side of his neck, incredibly close to his jugular vein. He was obviously headed back to her bedroom with a cup of coffee.
His dark hair was damp; sunlight gleamed across the dark strands, picking up lighter highlights that she hadn’t noticed the night before. Tight, taut abs tightened above the towel while the light mat of hair on his chest looked far too inviting.
“Well, hell.” He frowned, his brown eyes cool as his gaze slid from Lyrica to Zoey, regret flickering in his gaze. “I thought you were alone, Zoey. I’m sorry.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Lyrica whispered, waving her hands in front of her face as she stared at him, eyes wide. “Dawg’s gonna have pups when he finds out about this. Doogan, you can’t . . .”
“Lyrica,” Zoey said softly, warningly.
“I’ll just get dressed.” Doogan gave his head a little shake and strode to her bedroom. “Sorry, Zoey.”
They watched him disappear, the door closing quietly behind him.
Zoey bit her lips and lifted her gaze to the skylights above them. No way Lyrica missed that hickey on his neck.
“Oh God. You slept with him . . .” her sister wheezed.
Zoey cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Well, we didn’t sleep much.”
Lyrica’s smothered squeal had Zoey’s gaze jerking to her in shock at the sound. Her sister was staring at her, hands pressed against her flushed cheeks, her green eyes dancing with sheer disbelief.
“Oh my God,” she choked.
“You said that already, Lyrica.” Zoey glared back at her. “What’s wrong with him?” Hell, Zoey thought, she hadn’t found a damned thing wrong with him.
“Oh my God, that look on your face,” Lyrica exclaimed.
“What look?” Ducking her head, Zoey stalked away from her sister and headed for the kitchen. “I need coffee.”
“Oh, Zoey, please don’t let Dawg find out,” Lyrica whispered. “That so wasn’t his pick for you.”
They’d seen enough, heard enough to know that Dawg, Rowdy, and Natches, as well as Timothy and several of their closest friends, had been playing matchmakers in the oddest ways where Dawg’s sisters were concerned.
“Yeah, well, his choices sucked anyway,” Zoey snapped. “And if I wanted one of the men he’s lined up I could have had them at any time since the day we arrived in Somerset. Stop worrying, Lyrica. I have a handle on it.”
“Oh, Zoey,” Lyrica sighed pityingly. “Haven’t we warned you about lying to yourself? I was so certain we had—”
“Shut up!” Zoey demanded. “And stop worrying. Now, where’s the babies? With Momma?”
“Zoey, listen to me,” Lyrica demanded, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Honey, you don’t understand. If anyone asks, Graham, or Brogan, who the one man was that would send them straight to Dawg if he’s seen with you, the answer is him.” She pointed to the bedroom door. “He gets people shot at. Hell, even Brogan wants to shoot him. But, Zoey . . .”
“Well, I just want to do him, and I’d prefer to do him in peace if you don’t mind,” she snapped back, watching Lyrica’s eyes widen a second before her lips parted, closed, and then she shook her head with a groan.
“God, Lyrica, shouldn’t I be able to choose who my first lover is . . .”
“But Zoey, honey, he’ll break your heart,” Lyrica whispered.
“I know.” And she did. “But he’s my choice, Lyrica. Isn’t that what counts?”
“You love him,” Lyrica said softly, surprised. “Zoey.”
And she’d had enough. Turning from her sister, she all but stomped to the coffeepot. “You want coffee or you want to get all weepy and maudlin on me? Really? You’d think I could have what I want, just once, without worrying about big brother.”
Just this once, let her have something for herself, just in case life as she knew it, was over soon.
“Oh my God, Zoey. If big brother finds out, he’ll hurt Doogan. Of any man on the face of this earth, Doogan is the one he’ll lose his mind over,” her sister warned her.
“That’s when I’ll leave, Lyrica.” Turning back to her, Zoey knew if Dawg did one thing to ruin this for her before Doogan left on his own, then she’d leave herself. And she’d never come back.
“Oh, Zoey.” Lyrica knew what Zoey had already accepted.
Dawg would find out and he would, as she said, have pups. But if he interfered, she’d make sure he never interfered in any other choice she ever made again.
–
Doogan lowered his head as he heard Zoey’s promise to her sister.
Listening to them through the small earbud he was testing the listening devices with, Doogan shook his head wearily. Zoey admitted she knew he was going to break her heart, and still she wanted him. He was her choice, she stated. He wasn’t her brother’s pick but hers alone. As though Eli could handle her. The other suspected pick was Shane Mayes, the former sheriff, Ezekiel Mayes’s son. And though Shane was a fine man, one Doogan wouldn’t have minded having as an agent, he was still a far cry from a match for Zoey.
He gave a mocking sneer at the thought of the men Dawg chose before disconnecting the earbud as Zoey and Lyrica’s conversation turned to babies and Lyrica’s marital bliss. What kind of husband Graham Brock was didn’t concern him in the least.
He was a little perturbed with himself, though, for not making certain Zoey was actually alone when he heard the door open. The bright spot in that was the comment Lyrica made indicating that the sisters refrained from sharing each other’s secrets with anyone else. Which explained why they managed to actually get so many things past their brother and cousins. Finishing his coffee Doogan dressed in jeans and a narrow, white striped gray shirt. Sitting at the edge of the bed he pulled on well-worn leather ankle boots, laced them, then rose to his feet and left the bedroom. Where he once again faced Zoey’s wide-eyed sister.
“I’ll be in the garage, Zoey.” Damn Lyrica; he’d waited to get back, shower, and have another taste of Zoey. He hadn’t expected her sister to show up.
“You don’t have to leave, Doogan,” she said softly, a hint of concern flashing in her pale green eyes. “Trust me, Lyrica won’t even tell Graham about seeing you here. Though Eli will probably tell him about seeing you at the race.”
“Not this morning he didn’t,” Lyrica revealed. “I talked to Graham just after Eli left and he had no clue.”
“Eli and I talked last night,” Doogan assured them. “He won’t say anything.”
Lyrica still watched him intently, a small frown at her forehead as her gaze raked over him again before pausing at the mark on his neck. Zoey’s mark.
“I’ll be in the garage, then.” He nodded to Zoey and her sister before moving past them to the hall leading to the end of the second level of the building and the metal staircase they’d used the night before.
He wanted to make certain the bike was at peak performance, while also ensuring it provided the best balance to weight for Zoey before that next race. She was small and delicate without the strength to manhandle the machine as the male racers did. He had a few ideas to fix that. There were also items he needed to purchase for her riding gear to ensure her safety. A new helmet for sure. The one she had wouldn’t protect her hard head effectively, and he didn’t want her risking more than a few bruises.
Bruises were a necessary part of life, he thought; anything more serious wouldn’t be tolerated, though.
“What’s with all the funny looks?” Zoey demanded as Doogan could be heard moving quickly down the metal staircase.
“Hell, Zoey, he walked out dressed like a normal person.” Lyrica blinked back at her as she leaned her elbows on the counter, where they were sitting across from each other. “If I hadn’t known who he was, I wouldn’t have recognized him.”
She liked the way he looked, Zoey decided. She’d seen him all GQ proper two weeks before, and though he’d looked damned good, he looked even better in jeans.
“Maybe Dawg will have the same problem if he sees him, then.” Zoey could only hope.
“Eli says he always manages to get himself or his agents shot whenever on a mission,” Lyrica told her, obviously worried. “He acts scared to death whenever Graham has to send him to meet with Doogan.”
“I’m not one of his agents,” Zoey pointed out.
“Why is he here with you, Zoey?” her sister asked, leaning forward worriedly. “Whatever he’s in Somerset for, it’s not to work on your bike or because he just couldn’t stand another day that he wasn’t in your bed. And if it was because of a case or an investigation, he would have met with Graham, and I would have known he was in town.”
“It’s not to get me shot at,” Zoey assured her, but she had to admit that question had bothered her throughout the day as well, despite his answer the night before. “It’s probably just spy stuff,” she finally told her sister. “No one knows he’s here, though, and he won’t be here long. Stop worrying.”
“One of us has to,” Lyrica objected, lifting her coffee cup to her lips. “It’s obvious you don’t intend to.”
“Lyrica, sometimes I’m very scared it’s too late to worry about that. I just want to live, just in case those nightmares aren’t nightmares. And I want to experience the touch of a man I can’t say no to . . .”
“That man can have you locked up, baby sister,” Lyrica warned her softly. “Those nightmares ambush you. You never know . . .”
“I know that.” Raking her fingers through her hair, Zoey turned quickly from her sister.
“Zoey, I’m scared for you,” Lyrica whispered.
“I trust him.” Zoey didn’t know why, couldn’t explain why. “He’ll break my heart, I have no doubt.” She turned back to Lyrica slowly. “If he left right now, my heart would shatter, Lyrica. But he’d try to protect me. I know he would.”
“Zoey . . .”
“It was a nightmare,” she whispered, and she had no idea why she kept telling herself that. “We know it’s a nightmare. Right?”
“Zoey.” Lyrica reached out and covered her sister’s hand gently. “It was a nightmare. You know that. He was seen that night leaving town, and you said yourself when you woke up, you were in your own bed at the inn. Come on, no one can get into those rooms without the cameras showing something. You checked the cameras, right?”
“And he hasn’t been seen since,” Zoey whispered. “Something happened that night. I don’t know what, I don’t know why I know it, but I know it did. Something bad.”
She could feel it. Everything inside her assured her there was a reason for those nightmares. Yet, as Lyrica said, Harley had been seen leaving town late that same night. Even the woman he’d been sleeping with had seen him at the convenience store along with dozens of customers, including Samantha Bryce, a detective on the Somerset police force.
But Lyrica was right. Zoey had checked the cameras as soon as she’d had a chance. A few squirrels had slipped across the porch, moths had slapped against the porch light, but no one had slipped into her room, or out of it. The same for the hall camera. Zoey had watched a mouse her mother was unaware they had run along the baseboards, but no one had crept to her room or out of it.
There was nothing but Zoey’s certainty that something had happened.
Nothing made sense or added up. She was actually worried enough that she was somehow crazy that she’d created a bucket list. A list of adventures she wanted to experience before losing her sanity completely. Or being arrested.
“It was just a nightmare,” Lyrica objected. “If it hadn’t been, honey, you wouldn’t have woken in your own bed, in your pajamas. Remember that. You didn’t hurt anyone, Zoey. Come on, you know you didn’t hurt anyone.”
When she was awake, she knew it had to be a nightmare. She’d gone to sleep in her bed; she’d woken in her bed. But the nightmares . . . God, the nightmares were like memories, so vivid and so messed up she woke screaming, terrified.
“Zoey.” Lyrica reached out, her hand covering hers, concern filling her emerald eyes. “Please, please talk to Natches about this. If anyone knows where to find Harley . . .”
“No.” Jerking her hand back, Zoey moved quickly from the counter, panic suddenly tearing through her, the certainty of danger, of a gun sight aimed at her almost overwhelming her.
The nightmare threatened to become a delusion, a hallucination. A waking hell she couldn’t escape.
“Zoey . . . ?” It was her sister’s voice, filled with an edge of fear that had Zoey pushing those visions back, fighting to escape them.
“This has nothing to do with Natches.” She forced herself to control her breathing, to push back the fear. Natches wouldn’t hurt her. He would never hurt her. But he didn’t need to know about this.
“Okay,” Lyrica agreed hastily. “That’s fine. We’ll figure it out another way. I promise.”
She promised. Her sisters never broke their promises to her. It was going to be okay, because they’d find another way to locate Harvey. Natches didn’t have to know . . .
Zoey stepped into the garage area quietly several hours later, her gaze finding Doogan hunched next to the bike as he finished tightening something inside the motor.
He was tall, powerful, but without the bulky muscle most powerful men possessed. Doogan’s muscle was lean, appeared more natural, denser, and harder than that of his bulkier counterparts. He was at least six three, his dark hair a bit long.
“Eli has strangled the power in a variety of ways,” he told her as she continued to watch the muscles of his back flex as he worked. “If one weren’t aware of his particular genius, then the entire bike would have had to be stripped and everything replaced.”
A costly project, Zoey thought, thinking of the amount of money she now had in the motor, electronics, and various running parts.
“It’s fixable, then?” she asked.
“Fixable,” he assured her. “It shouldn’t take long either. A week, maybe. I’ll have it ready in plenty of time to win that race next month.”
She had at least a week. At least six or seven nights with him.
“You’re sure I’ll have a chance of winning?” she questioned, tilting her head to watch his profile.
“If you can control the power, which I believe you can.” He shrugged. “Once I balance the bike sufficiently, there shouldn’t be a question of winning. I’ll find a proper area where you can test it before the race, though.”
Her brows lifted. Eli fought her tooth and nail whenever she attempted to test the bike before the races. And without his truck, she had no way of testing it without Billy learning exactly how the bike performed.
Eli had helped her keep the bike running since she’d begun riding in the private races Billy Ray and his friends put together every month. She knew Eli had deliberately cut back the power the motor was capable of, though, and once Billy had informed her of it a few months ago, it had done nothing but piss her off.
She’d suspected it before Billy had come to the garage and confirmed it. Billy had even offered several times to help her. But he’d use his knowledge to win each race as well. There was no fairness in that any more than there was any fairness in what Eli had done.
“I need to get a few parts,” Doogan stated as she stood watching him. “Nothing too expensive. And I have a few ideas to fix your weight-to-balance ratio. The items I’ll need for that I’ll have to run a search for. I checked a few places in Louisville just before you came in. I may have to get them out of state, though.”
Straightening, he moved to the toolbox, replaced the ratchet he was using, then moved to the small sink to wash his hands. Drying them, he turned back to her, his gaze curious as it settled on her.
“Figures. I keep losing it in that curve as I hit higher speeds,” she told him, leaning against the back of his pickup and tucking her hands in the pockets of the cutoff shorts she wore. “Never matters how I balance it, it wipes out there.”
“You’re too light to balance and make up for the impetus you need to get around it, even with the speeds you can actually attain.” Facing her, he nodded to the cycle. “It’s fixable, though.” Then a little grin tipped his lips. One of those wry, almost amused curves. “So did your sister lecture you properly about me?”
Lecture her? She and her sisters tried hard to never lecture each other; they heard far too much of it from their other family members. Especially their brother and cousins.
“Lyrica and Eli say all your agents live in fear of working with you,” she admitted. “You get them shot at.”
He leveled a look of superior mockery in her direction.
“Eli?” His brow arched with a hint of inborn arrogance. “He forgets his job description includes such things. Working with Graham has made him squeamish.”
Squeamish wasn’t the description she would have used. Eli wasn’t a coward.
“Eli isn’t the gung-ho sort,” she pointed out. “He’s more cautious and methodical.”
“Young.” Doogan nodded. “Eli doesn’t always understand that often a sudden strike versus slipping in is the only effective way to act. A strike team strikes. It doesn’t tippy-toe.”
“And you’re a strike team?” she asked.
“I normally head a strike team,” he amended. “Eli’s been assigned to those teams a time or two. He dislikes bullets more than most agents, though.”
For some reason she had the feeling that bullets didn’t concern Doogan, and she wondered if they ever had.
“Eli doesn’t seem particularly fond of you personally, though,” she pointed out. “I thought he was going to demand to drive me home himself last night.”
Eli didn’t actually dislike Doogan, but Zoey sensed the younger agent rarely agreed with him.
“He may have made that demand of me,” Doogan admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I simply reminded him of the definition of boss.”
Zoey winced. Eli wouldn’t have appreciated that at all. He was young, but he had plenty of pride.
“He tends to get his feathers ruffled easily.” Doogan shrugged.
“Why are you really in Somerset, Doogan?” She asked the question before she could stop herself. “And don’t pawn me off with that excuse you gave last night.”
–
She was smart. Intuitive. Doogan had known that all along. Just as he’d known Lyrica’s knowledge of his presence in Zoey’s home would ensure that Zoey began questioning why he was there as soon as her sister left.
He was prepared for it.
“I’m here to oversee an active investigation,” he finally answered her, trying his damnedest not to lie to her. “And that’s all I can tell you.”
“All hush-hush, huh?” She peeked up at him from between thick, sooty lashes. “Are you going to get me shot at, Doogan?”
She was teasing him, and he was damned if he’d expected that from her.
“Not if I can help it.” The thought of getting Zoey shot at was terrifying. And not just because her brother would kill him.
“Well, at least you didn’t try to lie to me.” Full breasts lifted with a heavy sigh beneath the tank top she wore with the cutoff denim shorts and cowboy boots. “I would have never believed a full-out ‘No.’ Not with your reputation.”
He arched his brow curiously, finding it particularly hard to keep his eyes off those tempting breasts.
“My turn,” he stated.
Zoey inclined her head, indicating her agreement.
“How do you know so much about the agents operating in Somerset? I know for a fact Eli hasn’t given you that information, and you know a hell of a lot, even for a Mackay.”
“You know that old saying ‘the walls have ears’?” she said softly. “Farmhouses have really thin walls.”
His arms went across his chest, his brows lowering broodingly. That wasn’t a good sign, but she could go with it.
“I know for a fact when Dawg remodeled the bed-and-breakfast, the walls were rebuilt as well.”
Zoey lifted her brows and gave a heavy sigh, accepting the fact that she could give up a little information. “I stole some of Dawg’s bugs. God love his heart. He just keeps misplacing them.” She gave a shake of her head, her eyes widening innocently. “It’s pitiful. Old age, I think.”
Dawg would have a fit if he heard her say something so outrageous. Hell, it was all she could do to say it and keep a straight face.
Doogan’s eyes narrowed now. “My bullshit detector just exploded,” he warned her. “Want to try again?”
“I’ve been known to cause that.” She sighed, blinking at him with false remorse. “Dawg’s always having to replace his too.”
He just stared back at her, those brown eyes watching her as though not quite certain of the response he should give to pull her back in line.
Yeah, Dawg had that problem too, she thought, reining in her laughter.
“So, do you want to make a parts list for me?” she asked him as though there weren’t a question on the table to answer. “I can pick everything up for you this afternoon when I go out.”
“And no one will question why?” He was going to let it go, Doogan thought, surprised at himself. Leaning against the sink counter, Doogan tried to keep the arousal from building in him and fought to keep his cock from becoming fully erect.
It was no wonder her brother and cousins were finally going gray. If he looked close enough he’d probably find a gray hair himself now.
“That was last year,” she stated with a little wave of her hand. “The parts store employees finally stopped calling Dawg when I convinced them I was picking up parts for friends while they were at work. Dawg couldn’t find a reason to suspect otherwise, so he let it go.”
Doogan grinned at that. “You let him suspect before ever going close to one of those races, didn’t you?”
Once his suspicions were aroused, Dawg would have had the races watched or been on the lookout for a title in her name.
“Guilty,” she admitted. “So you want me to pick them up or what? I assume you won’t want to risk Dawg learning you’re here.”
“You assume correct,” he assured her, uncrossing his arms to brace them on the counter behind him. “I’ll make a list for you. I may have to leave before daylight in the morning to meet with a contact, but I should be back before too late. I’ll be out till late tonight, though. It’ll be morning before I finish going over the bike and making that list.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” She nodded. “Remind me when we get upstairs and I’ll give you the spare security fob.”
Doogan nodded, watching her closely. “Are you sure you want me to stay?” he asked then, watching the frown that fitted at her brow and the somber disquiet in her gaze.
“It’s a little late to ask that question, don’t you think?” she asked him, swallowing tightly.
“I don’t want to hurt you when it’s time to leave, Zoey, so don’t fall in love with me, please. For both our sakes. Because I’d feel like a complete bastard if I broke your heart.” Why he felt the need to warn her he wasn’t entirely certain.
“Consider me warned.” She shrugged, but instead of looking at him, her gaze moved to the motorcycle he’d been working on. “I made my decision last night, though. I don’t regret it, and I won’t cry when you leave. How’s that?”
But she didn’t say he wouldn’t break her heart. She didn’t assure him she wouldn’t fall in love with him.
There would be no walking away without ripping at what was left of his emotions. He knew when that time came, she would cry. She would wait until he was gone. She wouldn’t let him see the tears, but they would fall.
Moving to her, he gripped her waist, lifted her, and set her cute, perky little ass on the lowered tailgate of the truck. Pushing between her thighs, Doogan wedged the erection he’d been unable to stop into the notch of her thighs, gripped the hair at the back of her head, and pulled her head back to stare into her oddly colored eyes.
Surprise and lush anticipation softened her features as he watched her and felt her soften against him.
“Ask me to kiss you, witch,” he demanded, brushing her lips with his.
“Ask you for it?” Her hands tightened where they gripped his biceps. “Why should I have to ask? You’re going to kiss me anyway.”
“So we both know what you want,” he answered softly, the sexual need riding harder, faster inside him. “Besides, it can be incredibly sexy when you know you have only to ask your pleasure and it’ll be given to you.”
The very thought of her asking for other, far more intimate acts had his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.
“And if I ask, you’ll give it to me?” Sharp little nails pricked past the material of his shirt as she asked the question.
“Whatever you want, Zoey. Whenever you want it.”
“What if you’re not here?” Her breathing was tighter, faster now. “If I really want something and you’re away?”
“All you have to do is text me. Call me,” he promised, watching her eyes. “And whatever you want, however you want it.” The very thought of it had his voice darkening, the need to give her whatever she desired, sexually, tightening his balls. “And I’ll make sure you have it.”
“Kiss me, Doogan. Hard and deep . . .”
He didn’t wait. He couldn’t wait.
His lips covered hers, hard, his tongue pushing past her lips, stroking against hers, and he made zero allowances for the inexperience he knew she still possessed. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other cupped the delicate curve of her neck, and he ravished her lips, his tongue fucked her mouth.
When she asked for hard and deep, he’d seen the lack of knowledge in her eyes for what she was asking. There was such innocence . . . and he wanted to replace that innocence with knowledge. With sensual, sexual confidence that he alone gave her.
As he worked his lips over hers his tongue thrust past them, teased hers, tasted it until he swore he was becoming intoxicated by her, high on her kiss alone and loving every sweet, forbidden moment of it.
Soft, kittenish little mewls left her throat, the sound of them sparking a deeper, hotter hunger inside him, thoughts of all the sexual acts he could teach her racing through his senses.
For a moment he eased the intensity of the kiss. He had every intention of releasing her from the sensual, sexual spell deepening around both of them. He would have given her a reprieve, a chance to catch her breath. As he moved to pull back, sharp little teeth nipped his lips as her fingers jerked to his hair, tangling in the strands, tugging at them, nipping his lower lip again to demand more.
The innocent, playful act was like a match to gasoline. The dominant, dark core of male sexuality he possessed broke free, and even the small allowance he’d made for her innocence was forgotten.
He would brand her senses with him. No other man, or woman, would be enough. No other kiss would ever seem quite right. No one but Doogan would ever be enough when he was finished. This sweet, sensual little witch would always be his alone.
–
Zoey’s senses exploded with pleasure.
One hard hand gripped her hip, pulling her to the edge of the tailgate and holding her in place. A second later the hard, thick width of his jeans-covered cock ground against her sex as his tongue speared past her lips, pumping in and out of them in the same slow, destructive rhythm he used between her thighs.
He wasn’t just kissing her, he was fucking her with his tongue, possessing her with a kiss that had her vagina rippling with each push into her mouth, each hard thrust against her mound.
His lips slanted over hers, holding her in place with the delicious, explicit act before the hands in her hair began pulling at the long strands he held captive.
Sharp, intense pulses of sensation shot through her womb, straight to the depths of her core. Moisture eased along the passage, hot and sleek, spilling to the sensitive folds beyond.
Each thrust of his tongue against hers, each tug of her hair and driving thrust of his hips against the mound of her sex sent harsh, shattering arcs of sensation driving through her vagina. Her inner muscles clenched and spasmed, moisture wept slick and heated, coating her flesh, inside and out, preparing her, sensitizing her while her clit throbbed in peaked, painful need for touch.
And in the next second it was gone.
He stopped.
