Текст книги "Some Like It Wild"

Автор книги: M. Leighton

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“And now I’m supposed to thank you for sleeping with my fiancé to open my eyes? Well, forgive me if I just can’t muster up any sincerity for something like that.”

I can’t help the bitter edge to my voice. She’s lucky that’s all she’s getting. I jerk my hands out from under hers and sit back in my seat, needing a physical distance from Tori.

“Laney, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I. Didn’t. Sleep. With. Him.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t you? When have I ever shown the tiniest bit of interest in Shane? I think he’s a total girl. I like my men manly, you know that.”

I narrow my eyes on her. “But we both know you’ve mistakenly fallen into bed with the wrong guy before.”

Her cheeks turn a little pink. “I won’t argue that, but never with your guy, Laney. Never. I would never do that. I knew you’d be home. I knew if he was the kind of man I thought he was that he’d do it in a heartbeat. I’m just sorry that I was right.” Tori closes her eyes and whispers, “I’d give anything for him to have proved me wrong.”

Suddenly, I feel . . . too much. I feel trapped. Suffocated. I feel tears threaten. I feel stupid and alone and confused. And I feel the need to get out of here.

“Tori, can we, um, can we finish this later? I really need to get going.” I don’t look up as I grab my purse and slide from the booth. Tori doesn’t move to follow me. Or try to stop me. But before I can wheel my cart far from her, she reaches out and touches my arm as I pass.

“I love you, Laney Holt. I always have. You’re like my family.”

I wait until she moves her hand before I walk away. I push my buggy back to the produce aisle, where I left off. Tears are streaming down my face the whole way.

EIGHTEEN: Jake

I give the last strap a tug, tightening it around the bundle of supplies tied to the small bed at the back of the Jeep. I check the other tethers to make sure they’re secure. When I’m pretty confident all our shit won’t fall out in the middle of a mudhole, I turn to Laney.

“Ready?” I ask.

She smiles widely and nods her head. It’s the first time she’s seemed really . . . herself since she got back from the grocery store yesterday. I don’t know what happened, and I’m not about to ask. I’m not sure she’d tell me, anyway. That thing where Laney’s not like most women—the ones who feel the need to spill their guts on a regular basis—works against me in some cases. Like now. I wonder what’s wrong, but I don’t want to give Laney the wrong impression by seeming concerned.

You don’t want her to think you care, you asshole?

I hide my frown as I open the passenger door for Laney. I don’t know why I don’t want her to know that I care. I just know that I don’t. Maybe it’s because caring comes with responsibility, and Laney doesn’t know that I destroy the things I care about. She doesn’t know that I can’t be responsible for her. It’s not just that it’s more comfortable for me. It’s that it’s best for her.

We’re both quiet on the drive up into what we locals call the “mountains.” To those people who grew up around real mountains, these are more like really big hills covered in trees. But for people who live in a state that has a lot of flat land, these are mountains.

When we get to the tricky parts, the areas that travel over stretches of the river and go up and down really sharp inclines, I notice Laney grab the handle above the door and brace her feet against the floorboard.

“Now you know why they call them ‘oh shit’ handles,” I tell her with a grin.

She smiles, but her eyes are wide, which makes my grin that much bigger.

A couple of times I hit a deep spot in the river and it jars us both pretty good. Laney gasps, but doesn’t say a word. She’s just flushed-faced and beaming when I look at her. She’s learning to enjoy the shocks and surprises in any given moment. The thrill of a rush. The pleasure in not watching life from the sidelines. I know she was kind of looking for it when we met, but I can’t help but watch her with a little bit of pride, to look at her when she’s enjoying herself and think to myself that I did that. It makes me happy in some way, in some place I’d rather not explore too deeply. I just know I’m not ready to give it up quite yet. I’m not ready to give her up quite yet. So I’m gonna make the most out of this weekend.

“How much farther?” she asks at one point.

“Maybe four miles. Something like that.”

She once admitted to me that she’d never been camping. I couldn’t believe it. But it seems to be true, if I’m only judging by her level of excitement. And that’s fine with me. I’m excited, too. Just for a different reason. I plan to have as much sex with this woman as I can possibly cram into three days and two nights. I need to start working her out of my system. I need to get this thirst for her under control. We don’t have much time left, and I have to be ready to let her go.

As always, thinking about her leaving is like having a storm cloud settle over my life for a few seconds, which is exactly why I don’t spend too much time dwelling on it. She needs to move on with her life and so do I. Once this is all said and done, we’ll go our separate ways and that’s that.

But still, I don’t really enjoy thinking about it.

Up ahead, I see the clearing come into sight. When we top the knoll, I pull to a stop on one side of the camp and cut the engine. The instant the Jeep’s throaty purr can’t be heard, the sounds of nature seem ten times louder. Birds chirping, water rushing over rocks, the wind rustling the leaves—it’s the most peaceful loud in the world.

I get out and start unpacking our supplies. Laney comes to stand behind me, holding out her arms. “Okay, gimme something.”

I quirk one brow at her. “I’ll give you something,” I say suggestively.

She grins broadly. “I mean give me something useful.”

I say nothing for about three seconds before I lunge for her. She’s ready for me, though, and she takes off across the clearing, screaming at the top of her lungs. It only takes me a few long strides to catch her, and when I do, I wrap my arms around her waist, pull her back up against my chest and swing her like I’m going to throw her. “What was that you said?”

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” she half laughs-half squeals.

“I could’ve sworn there was an insult to my manhood in there somewhere.”

I swing her around again, her legs flying out in front of us. “No, there wasn’t! I just said that I wish I was useful.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” I say, setting her on her feet.

“It’s not my fault you’re old,” she mutters playfully.

“Oh, you really are asking for it.” I turn her around in my arms and bend her back over them, teasingly biting at her throat. She giggles and arches her neck, grabbing at my shoulders with her hands.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to get your attention,” she replies hoarsely.

I lift my head and look down into her face. “All you have to do is look my way and you’ve got my attention. My full attention.”

Laney’s blue eyes are light and sparkly and . . . happy. “And I can’t ask for more than that,” she says softly, staring up at me. She reaches up and touches my cheek with her fingertips, her smile fading into seriousness. “Jake, I . . .”

Like hitting the panic button, her words trigger a marked response in me. “Come on,” I begin, hauling her upright. “We need to get this camp set up before it gets much later. We should be at the river, fishing for supper, in a couple of hours.”

Laney nods, her smile bright once again. Almost too bright, in fact. And I can tell by the way she tucks her hair behind her ear that she’s a little off-kilter.

Back at the Jeep, I hand Laney small things as I unpack them, telling her where they go.

“The way the fire pit is positioned, we’ll put the tent over there,” I say, pointing to the edge of the clearing that backs up to the ravine. I hand her the bound tent and poles. “Just set it over there. We’ll put the cooler and kitchen-related stuff to the right and the two chairs in front of that ring of rocks. Inside that is where the fire will be.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” she says, giving me a sassy salute as she prisses off with the tent.

“That’s a little more like it. I love a woman that knows her place.” Laney looks back over her shoulder and sticks out her tongue at me. “Do that again and see what happens,” I tease. Rather than give me some pithy reply, she just keeps moving.

I watch her as she walks to the place I indicated and lays the tent down then turns to make her way back. She stops to dust something off her shorts, drawing my attention to her amazing legs. I immediately picture them wrapped around my waist, Laney’s head thrown back, her nipples pointing at the sky, her tight body settled around me, and I wonder what she was going to say. Would she have told me she loves me? Or was it nothing like that at all? Although it would be a disaster for both of us if she had, I must admit that I like the thought of her being mine. All mine. Body, heart, and soul.

But that would be a disaster.

Especially for her.

After the Jeep is unloaded, I get the rubber mallet. We spread out the tent and I start pounding in stakes. Laney helps me when I need it and, otherwise, busies herself setting up the little table we brought to keep food stuff off the ground. Although I can’t hear her, I can tell by the set of her mouth that she’s humming. She does that often when she’s doing something domestic, I’ve noticed. Obviously, it makes her happy. Yet another reason she doesn’t need me in her life. I’m far from domestic.

When the tent is set up, I unzip it and hold open the flap for Laney to crawl inside. I try not to look too long at her perfect ass or think about the fact that she’s down on all fours, the perfect position for me to sweep in and take her from behind.

My dick twitches inside my shorts, so I make a point to think of something else. Anything else.

“Hand me the sleeping bags,” she says before I can duck inside.

I get the two rolls and toss them in to her before I join her inside the little dome. I watch as she rolls them out straight, side by side. Looking at them, I realize that I object. And not for sexual reasons. Chances are, we’ll have sex in dozens of places and not one of them might be inside those sleeping bags. But that’s not the point. The point is, I don’t like the thought of not being able to feel her curled up at my side, like she’s been every night for a couple of months now.

“If you unzip one and lay it out flat, we can zip the other one on top of it and make it a double,” I propose.

“Oh, that’s smart,” she says, moving to do what I suggested. “That way we can share body heat.”

“Yeah, if you say so,” I murmur.

She looks at me over her shoulder and grins. “Among other things.”

“That’s more like it,” I say.

With the bags set up properly, she turns toward me. “Now what?”

I don’t think she’s trying to be provocative. With Laney, I don’t think she ever really tries. She just is. Everything she does is sexy as hell and makes my dick as hard as a chunk of granite. My . . . appetites have always been pretty voracious, but with Laney, they’re even worse. I just can’t seem to get enough of her.

“I can think of so many ways to answer that question, but I guess we’d better get down to the river.”

“Whatever you say, Davey Crockett,” she responds pluckily as she bends forward to crawl past me. This time, I have to grit my teeth as she passes me.

* * *

It’s dark. Laney and I are sitting in front of the fire. She’s between my legs, leaning back against my chest. We just finished our hot dogs. “Those were for an emergency, you know. Just in case we didn’t get much out of the river.”

Laney shrugs. “How was I supposed to know it would bother me so badly? I told you I’d never been fishing. It’s not like Daddy is exactly outdoorsy.”

“But Laney, God put fish here for us to eat. People would’ve starved to death in the old days if the women were like you.”

She tilts her head to one side and looks back at me. Her eyes are big, soulful drops of sky blue that glisten in the firelight.

“Maybe they didn’t go. Maybe their men just brought them back fish filets to throw in a skillet and cook.” She nods as if that explains it all.

I shake my head and sigh. “Maybe. All I can say is thank God for hot dogs.”

She grins and rests her head back against my shoulder. “Thank you for throwing the fish back.”

“I think it’s weird that you’d rather eat Porky Pig than a damn cold fish, but . . .”

“I didn’t have to catch and kill Porky Pig. That’s the difference.”

“You’re such a girl,” I say mildly.

“And you’re such a guy.”

“Damn straight.”

“But that’s the way it’s supposed to be. The men are the ones who are supposed to be okay with doing these heartless things. The women are the ones that stay back at camp to patch up skinned knees and dry tears.”

“I can see you doing that.”

“Can you really?” she asks, looking back at me again.

“Definitely. Sometimes I get the feeling you’re trying to do that to me.”

“Do what to you?”

“Patch me up.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“No. I just don’t want you wasting your time on a project like me. Some things can’t be fixed, Laney, no matter how much you wish they could.”

“Maybe you just need to let someone try.”

“You think?” I respond casually, looking away from her eyes.

“I do.”

“Well, if you wanna know what I think, it’s that we need some marshmallows. What say you?”

Her lips curve into a smile, but it’s a sad one.

“Marshmallows sound good.”

The mood is a little somber as we peel down the tips of the green sticks we used to roast our hot dogs to make way for marshmallows. Several times, I find myself glancing over at Laney, watching her fingers work, admiring how satiny her skin looks in the flickering light.

If I’m being honest, I know she’s developing feelings for me. I should’ve put a stop to this a couple weeks ago when I started suspecting. But the truth is, I didn’t want to. Still don’t. Why? Because I’m a selfish bastard.

It’s been so long since I’ve let anybody get close to me. And now that I have, I find myself wanting to enjoy it for a while, whether it hurts her or not.

But that’s not fair to her. It’s not her fault I’m this way. And, ultimately, she shouldn’t have to pay the price for it.

As Laney eases her stick into the fire, letting the marshmallows hover just above the flame, the metaphor is not lost on me—her getting too close to the flame, her in danger of getting burned. Badly. I know what she’s doing. And I know I should stop her. And I will.

Just not yet.

I reason that she’s not past the point of no return yet. I’ve still got a little time to enjoy what we have before I have to make my move.

And enjoy it I will.

One of Laney’s marshmallows catches fire and she jerks back her stick, blowing the flaming blob until the fire is doused. Gingerly, she picks off gooey globs of sticky sugar and plops them in her mouth.

“To never have been camping before, you sure have this part down pat,” I observe, smiling as she licks white cream from her fingers.

“Any kid who’s ever been near a fire of any kind has roasted marshmallows.”

“Ahhh, so you’re an old hand at it.” She nods and smiles. “Obviously you enjoy it.”

“They’re made of sugar. And they’re melty. What’s not to love?”

I stare at her beautiful face, the one that matches what seems to be a beautiful soul.

What’s not to love, indeed.

A big blob drops off Laney’s stick and hits the front of her shirt. “Awww,” she whines, picking at it to salvage what she can. “I hate to waste even one bite.”

Before I can even suggest it, as if reading my mind, Laney lays her empty stick to the side and slips her shirt over her head. Her bra is the color of the setting sun and, in the soft light, makes her skin look like it glows.

Within a fraction of a second, my body is as hot as the fire I’m sitting in front of.

A month ago, she would never have done something like that. Hell, a couple of weeks ago she wouldn’t have done something like that. She’s come a long way.

Where has the time gone? And how can I get some of it back?

When she’s finished picking marshmallow from her shirt, I catch her before she can put her shirt back on. “I’ll make you a deal,” I tell her. “I’ll share some of my marshmallows with you.” She’s paused with her arms half raised above her head and she’s peeking at me over her hands. “On one condition.”

One of Laney’s eyebrows rises, something she’s just started doing. Something that drives me wild. “What’s that?”

“I get to feed them to you. But I’m messy, so you’d better take the rest of your clothes off.”

Even in the low light, I see her pupils dilate. She doesn’t answer me. She just lowers her arms. Slowly.

At first it seems she isn’t going to answer me at all. But then, with her eyes locked on mine, she stands to her feet and reaches for the button on her shorts. She unbuttons then unzips them.

Very deliberately, very carefully, she wiggles her hips back and forth as she slides the khaki material down her long legs. When she straightens, I see that she’s not wearing any panties. She must not have put any back on after she changed out of her wet clothes earlier.

I get hard immediately.

“Where do you want me?” she asks, her expression the picture of innocence.

I pat the ground beside me. “Right here. You’ll stay warm near the flames.” Gracefully, Laney steps toward me then sinks down to the ground. “Lie back,” I tell her.

And she does.

I hold the stick of marshmallows over the flames for a few seconds to make sure they’re nice and hot before I dip my finger into one. The crispy outer shell gives way to a hot, sticky center that coats my finger. I trace it over Laney’s bottom lip. “Lick.” I watch the pink tip of her tongue sneak out to snatch the sugar from her lip. My mouth waters. “My turn,” I tell her.

I get some more marshmallow on my finger and I drag it from her chin down to the valley between her breasts. I bend my head and use my lips and tongue to lick her skin clean.

“Mmm, delicious,” I say when I raise my head and meet her eyes. Laney says nothing, but I can hear her short, heavy breathing. She’s excited. And when she’s excited, I’m even more excited.

I scoop some more marshmallow onto my finger and hold it to Laney’s mouth. “Open,” I tell her. Wordlessly, she parts her lips. I slip my fingertip inside. It’s all I can do not to strip and dive right into her when I feel her suck on it and swirl her tongue around the tip.

With my eyes locked on Laney’s, I reheat the remaining marshmallows. After a few seconds, one catches fire. I hold the stick up to Laney’s lips. “Blow.”

Obediently, she puckers her lips and puffs out the flame.

“My turn again,” I state, leaning forward to hook my finger under the edge of her bra strap and tug it down. When one button-like nipple is exposed, I pierce the browned marshmallow and dip my finger inside, transferring the warm gooeyness onto Laney’s nipple. I hear her gasp at the heat of it. I look up at her face and see her eyes drift shut in ecstasy. “So sweet,” I whisper as I bend over her to suck away the sticky sugar.

When I straighten, Laney opens her eyes and looks at me. Her lips are parted, and I’d be willing to bet if she were wearing panties, they’d be soaked.

“Where else can I put some?” I ask.

I see her pearly teeth sink into her bottom lip and I suppress a growl. I tighten the hold on my libido. I want to draw this out a little longer. No matter how much it hurts me.

I smear a shiny, white streak down Laney’s stomach to her navel, where I deposit a blob of cream. Leaning forward, I lick the trail and then lap up every last bit of marshmallow from her belly button.

Her stomach trembles as I lick a little lower. My cock jumps in response. She knows where I’m headed next. She knows what I’m going to do. And she’s practically vibrating with anticipation.

Straightening, I put the stick in the fire once more. I heat the remaining marshmallow. When the outside starts to darken, I remove it. I blow on it until it cools enough that I can handle it. And then I stick my tongue right into the hot center. It burns, but not enough that I can’t tolerate it.

Bending over Laney, I nudge her legs farther apart with my elbow and run my sugar-coated tongue between her folds, leaving a hot, sticky sweet trail all the way down the crease to her opening. The noise she makes is somewhere between a gasp and a moan. To me, it just sounds like a plea for me to continue.

“That’s it, baby,” I say, moving my lips against her, “you know I wanna hear you.”

I lave her slick flesh with my tongue, enjoying the sweet taste of marshmallow mixed with the sweet taste of Laney. I suck her clit into my mouth. She digs her fingers into my hair and holds me to her, her hips moving against my face. I push one sticky finger inside her. She’s warm and tight and so, so wet. I move it slowly in and out of her, in a rhythm that matches my tongue. I hear her start to pant, so I slide another in beside it. More aggressively, I penetrate her with my fingers as I lick her into a frenzy.

Her hips move in time with me, and when I feel her muscles tense, I thrust another finger in alongside the first two and slam them into her until I hear her cry out.

Laney’s voice echoes through the ravine below, my name bouncing back around us. But I’m not done. And neither is she.

Sliding my tongue down, I thrust it inside her, licking her higher and higher into her orgasm. My need for her is building.

I smell her delicious body, more mouthwatering than the marshmallows. I taste her natural sweetness, pouring onto my tongue and mingling with the sugar. I feel her everywhere—her hands in my hair, her legs brushing my face, her body writhing against my chest.

“Jake, please,” she whimpers softly. “Please. I need to feel you inside me.”

I lift my head and look at her. Her eyes are heavy. Her cheeks are flushed. Her nipples are puckered. Her lips are trembling.

I strip off my shorts as fast as I can and position myself between her legs. For a second, I feel frantic, too, but I make myself slow down.

I lean back on my heels, poised between her spread thighs. I look down as I rub the glistening head of my cock over her swollen lips. I tease the entrance and I feel her slippery cave clutching at me. I bite back a groan.

I glance up at her. Her chest is heaving with every breath she takes. She’s right on the edge of another one. And if I wait just another second . . .

I put my palms on the insides of her thighs and I push them farther apart, easing an inch into her. “Lean up,” I tell her. “I want you to watch.”

Laney levers her body up onto her elbows. I withdraw fully so she can see the light flicker off the wetness covering me. “See that? That tastes like sugar. You taste like sugar,” I say, slowly slipping the head back into her and rocking it in and out. She’s sucking at me, begging me to fill her up. “You’re all over my tongue,” I say, thrusting a little farther in. “I can still taste you.”

I look up at Laney. She’s watching me tease her, her mouth a silent O of pleasure, her eyes little more than slits as she struggles to keep them open. I pull out and circle my fingertip over the head of my cock then reach up and drag it over Laney’s bottom lip. I feel like I might explode when her tongue sneaks out and licks it off.

“So good,” I whisper. “I want you to see how good we are together.” I moan, straining to keep my strokes short and shallow. “I want you to watch me come inside you. I want you to feel it. Filling you up.” My control is slipping. “Filling you up and running back out.” My heart is racing and I can’t hold off much longer. “I want you to see the mixture of us dripping from my cock. Us. Together.”

Her face looks pained, but I know what she’s feeling—desperation. She wants this every bit as badly as I do.

Pulling her hips in closer to mine, I angle my body and drive as hard and as deep into her as I can. She takes every inch of me and her cry tells me what I can already feel.

She’s coming again. That’s all it took for her. She came undone. And with every spasm of her body around mine, I know I’m not far behind.

I watch Laney watching us, watching my thick cock crash into her over and over again. And then I feel it. It steals over me like darkness. It robs me of sight and sound for a few seconds, and all I can sense is the tension in every muscle of my body.

And then I’m coming. I spew into her, knowing she’s watching, and I love it.

I’ve never come so hard before. For a few seconds, I lose touch with reality. Like an animal, I arch my back and throw back my head and growl. I growl as I spill everything I have deep inside Laney.

As she watches.

I can feel it oozing out of her, all around me. And when I pull out, I can see it dripping off me. And so can she.