A Wicked Seduction (11 page)

He lifted his head, met her heavy-lidded gaze, and toyed with the top button on her pants. “Do you want
more?” he murmured, his question packed with a sexual connotation she couldn't misinterpret.

He was leaving the ultimate decision up to her, and just as he claimed to be selfish, she was feeling just as greedy. “Yes…
please,
” she whispered in an achy, needy tone.

Without letting go of her restrained hands, and with an efficiency and agility that amazed her, he managed to unzip her jeans, tug them over her hips with a little wriggle of help from her, and shove the denim down to her knees. Surprisingly, he left her pale pink panties on, which were drenched with desire for him, because of him. She tried to shift her lower body to kick the restricting pants off, but he diverted her attempts by wedging his thigh between her knees just below where the heavy material ended, making it so she could only open her legs about an inch.

His hand dipped back into the cooler, and her chest rose and fell as anticipation unfurled within her. Her hands remained bound, her legs equally confined, yet she still trusted him, knew whatever he had planned would be for her benefit and gratification.

Ice cube in hand, he drew a slow, lazy circle around her belly button, then slid the frozen icicle down to her bikini panties and traced the line of her waistband, then back up again. Leaning down, he blew a gust of hot breath over the cool wetness on her skin, and she shuddered uncontrollably.

He placed the cube on her navel, then reached into the insulated chest again. “Be still,” he murmured when she squirmed to dislodge the ice.

Her eyes widened. Oh, God, he couldn't be serious, but one look at his determined expression told her he'd meant what he'd said. As the seconds passed and the ice began to melt and drip down the sides of her stomach, she could feel the wintery chill spread all the way up to the puckered tips of her breasts and radiate lower, too. The prickling sensation was highly erotic, and also drove her mad because he'd ordered her not to move.

Her eyes rolled back and she moaned fitfully, but didn't dare writhe as she longed to do. “Dean…it's too cold.”

“The ice stays, for now.” He brushed his warm lips along her jaw in compensation and whispered huskily in her ear, “Here, I'll give you something else to think about instead.”

Easing his hand between her legs, he pressed two icy fingers against the damp, silky panel of her panties. “You're
very
hot here,” he said, his sizzling, uneven breaths scorching her flesh. “Let's see what we can do about cooling you off.”

She knew what was coming even before he found his way beneath the elastic band, but being prepared didn't make his glacial caress any less shocking or intense. She sucked air into her lungs as his cold, cold fingers delved through slick folds, then filled her completely with one sleek, gliding stroke inside her.

This time, it was Dean who groaned low and harsh as her inner body gripped him tight, then melted and liquified around the invasion of his chilled fingers thrusting into her heated depths. His still-cold thumb
joined in on the seductive foray, gliding firmly, rhythmically across her wet, highly aroused flesh.

A frustrated sob caught in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt as though her body was being pulled in a dozen different mindless directions, with so many sensations bombarding her all at once that she couldn't concentrate on just one feeling. She wanted her hands free to touch him in return, wanted to open her legs wider to accommodate a greater pressure and friction, but her jeans and his thigh prevented that. Her belly quivered as he built the tension within her, higher and higher, making the slowly dissolving ice cube on her stomach tremble precariously as she fought to keep it in place—just to prove she could.

“You're holding back,” he said, in tune to all the subtle nuances of her body. “Let it go, Joelle, and come for me.”

He pushed his fingers high, hard and deep. Deliberately, he plied her swollen clitoris, eliciting a hot tide of passion and clawing need she was helpless to deny. Her vision blurred. Her muscles ached, drew tight, then contracted around his fingers as an incredible, powerful orgasm washed over her in crashing waves of voluptuous pleasure. She pulled against the material twisted around her restrained wrists to keep herself from thrashing, and she moaned in low, gasping pants as the exquisite, soul-stirring bliss consumed her.

Lightning flashed outside, as wild and frenzied as the electricity that had ignited her nerve endings. As
the echo of thunder ebbed away, and with the soft, soothing patter of rain on the windows, Jo felt herself floating back down to earth, lethargic, sated, and completely, wonderfully spent.

She lifted her lashes and met Dean's hooded gaze. His face was flushed from the warmth and humidity in the car, his jaw clenched, and his eyes were the color of burning, emerald coals. With excruciating slowness, so she felt every inch of his retreat, he removed his fingers from between her thighs. He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and finally untangled her blouse and bra from her arms and set her free.

But she didn't want to be free, not when he'd yet to find his own release after being so generous with hers. And not when she still felt so empty deep inside, despite the fabulous orgasm he'd given her. She lowered her arms and started to turn toward him to take this encounter to its logical, fulfilling conclusion, but stopped when she felt chilled liquid trickle down the side of her stomach.

She laughed lightly, truly amazed at how provocative and stimulating a piece of ice could be, in so many varied ways. “I was a good girl and the ice stayed right where you put it,” she told him. “Do you think you could remove it from my belly button now?”

“You were a very good girl,” he agreed generously. He swept his gaze downward, and his fingers followed the same path until the tips glided through the moisture on her belly. “The ice is all melted, and I'm suddenly very, very thirsty.”

He lowered his head and sipped the water from her navel, then dipped his tongue into the small indentation, probing deep, until there was no more moisture left. Just that quick, just that easily, she began to throb with renewed hunger and desire. But this time, she wanted the satisfaction to be mutual.

His teeth grazed her plump breast, and his fingers skimmed her thigh. Before he could send her on another journey to the heavens without him, she grasped his wrist in one hand to halt his ascent and threaded the fingers of her other hand through his thick, silky hair. She tugged his head up before he could take a straining nipple into his mouth and distract her all over again.

He lifted a dark brow in question, and her heart softened when she realized that he truly expected nothing in return for what he'd given her. Which made her want him even more. “I need you, Dean…inside me.”

He shuddered at her candid declaration, yet his gaze clouded over with shades of regret. “God, I want that, too, but I didn't plan my trip thinking I'd need condoms for any reason and I can't and won't risk getting you pregnant.”

“I'm on the pill,” she said, and seeing the curiosity etching his features, she attempted to explain. “My doctor put me on it a few years ago because stress and anxiety screwed up my hormones and menstrual cycle. It keeps me regular. As for other concerns, it's been a long time since I've been in a relationship.”

He smiled and his shoulders relaxed in relief.
“Whatever the reason, sweetheart, I'm extremely grateful.” He eased up to his knees beside her, then hesitated. “Just so long as you're sure about this.”

“I am.” Certainty rang clear in her voice. “And since you're the one who got me into this tangled mess in the first place,” she said, indicating the jeans still caught around her knees, “I'm gonna let you take off the rest of my clothes.”

He did so, quickly and easily, sweeping denim and silk down her long legs and tossing the garments aside. And moments later, she was lying completely naked on the flannel blanket, with him kneeling between her open, up-drawn legs. His gaze took in every bare, sprawled inch of her, lower and lower until he came to a stop at the most intimate part of her. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and the hungry need she saw reflected on his face made her tummy flutter.

His visual caress was just as arousing as a physical one, making her body tingle with renewed cravings. Yet she felt more than a little vulnerable with him still with his pants on. “Dean, I'm about at the end of my self-control.”

A sinful grin claimed his lips. “Good, because that's exactly where I want you.” Quicker than she could anticipate, he hooked her legs over his strong arms to keep them apart, lowered his head, and took her intimately with his mouth.

She inhaled a swift, startled breath, and her back arched as sharp, intense pleasure blazed through her. There was nothing slow or leisurely about this seduc
tion. His mouth was hot and ruthless, his tongue insistent and aggressive, allowing no inhibitions, no retreat. He demanded her surrender a second time, and she gave it to him, her climax hitting so hard and fast that she screamed from the sheer force of it buffeting through her body.

He reared back and unbuckled his belt urgently, the skin across his chest damp with perspiration and his muscles flexing with every brisk movement. “I can't wait any longer. I have to have you.” He shoved his jeans and briefs down his thighs and off, releasing his erection and letting her see him for the first time fully naked and stunningly aroused.

A tiny thrill shot through her. He was just as magnificently built as she imagined when she'd glimpsed him in the shower the night before. Instead of coming over her in a standard missionary position, he hooked his fingers behind her knees and dragged her closer to him as his own bent legs widened on either side of her hips. He draped her thighs over his, leaned forward, and rubbed the head of his penis over her sensitive folds, sharing slick moisture before entering her an agonizing inch…then stopping.

A strangled sound of distress caught in her throat and her fingers clutched the blankets at her sides. She glanced up at him to beg and plead to end the torment, but the fierce emotions glimmering in his eyes threw her off kilter.

“Dean?” she rasped, wondering if he'd changed his mind. Wondering, too, if they'd gone further than either of them had ever intended. The thought scared
her for all it implied—an emotional entanglement she was in no way ready for.

“I want you, Jo Sommers.
All
of you,” he said, his voice a low, husky murmur threaded with a possessive note. “Are you ready for that? Are you ready for
me?
”

She shivered, deciphering the true significance behind his questions—and knew he didn't mean sexually ready so much as was she prepared for him to storm her defenses. Right now, at this moment, she was ready for
this,
and accepted the answer to make it happen.

“Yes,” she whispered, and slid a hand between her thighs to run the tips of her fingers along the pulsing length nestled halfway within her, making her ache and swell and throb all over again. “I'm ready.”

Seemingly satisfied with her response, he drove solidly into her, filling her completely. Their moans of mutual pleasure mingled with another rumble of thunder overhead, with the hard-driving rain that once again pelted the truck. He barely gave her time to adjust to the luxury of that first stroke before he moved over her, using the breadth of his muscular thighs to push her legs farther apart and tilt her hips for a deeper, more intense penetration that made her gasp at the unexpected force.

Eyes glittering with heat, he slipped his hands under her arms, smoothed his palms up her back, and curled his fingers over her shoulders to lock them even tighter. The position made her realize she was well and truly pinned beneath him—face to face,
breasts crushed to his chest, and her legs wrapped high around his waist—but in a way that was new and different, so exciting, and incredibly erotic.

“You feel so damn good,” he growled, his jaw clenched in obvious restraint, “and I can't hold off much longer.”

She glided her hands down his lean, tightly muscled back, all the way to his toned buttocks. “Then don't,” she said, urging him to let go.

With a savage groan he slanted his mouth over hers, stealing her breath the same time he rocked forward with unbridled, jolting purpose. His entire body shuddered with the strength and impact of his thrusts, and she urged him further, higher, harder with her hands, mouth and body, unerringly matching his rhythm and stoking the flames of desire burning between them.

Their lovemaking was raw, earthy, and just as untamed as the storm swirling and raging outside of the vehicle. It was just the kind of frenzied joining she wanted. Just what he apparently needed.

Amazingly, she felt that wondrous climb begin again, building to a crescendo that had her writhing beneath him and moaning desperately as her climax slammed into her. He tossed his head back, his hips pumping, grinding, her name a hoarse cry on his lips as he fell over the precipice and came with her.

And this time, as they shared the explosion of heat and lightning and keen sensation, Jo feared that she'd not only given this generous man her body, but a piece of her heart and soul as well.

I
N ANOTHER FEW MINUTES
, he'd wake up Jo. But for now, with her warm, naked body curled up in front of his, the flannel blanket thrown haphazardly over both of their waists and the rain having ebbed to a light drizzle, Dean luxuriated in the satisfaction and contentment settling deep within him. The kind of mind and body relaxation that came in the aftermath of an incredible, mind-blowing release.

Undeniably, the sex had been amazing—hot, steamy and consuming—with him and Jo so in sync that it was as though they'd been lovers for years. Yet beyond the fantastic orgasm that had been the culmination of all their erotic foreplay, something more intimate had flared bright between them, especially toward the end—an emotional connection he'd felt, and one she seemed to struggle against. A caring yet passionate kind of bond he'd been without for all these years and hadn't known had been missing from his life until this woman had seized him—in more ways than one.

Closing his eyes, he buried his face in her hair, loose and flowing over the duffle they shared for a pillow. He inhaled the arousing scent of sated desire,
sweet melon, and the rain that had drenched them earlier. The arm he'd draped over her waist tightened possessively, and he realized that this perfect moment of tranquility and companionship with Jo was a stark reminder of all the things he'd sacrificed to keep his father's company solvent—the comfort of having a woman in his life, and a future with a wife and family.

He'd always wanted both, so certain that his own life would be so different from that of his parents. But from the day his fiancée had walked out on him, he'd known that he couldn't risk doing to a wife and children what his own father had done to him and his mother—put them second to his company. Ultimately, he hadn't trusted himself enough to believe he could be any different than his old man when forced to choose between an important business decision or a promise he'd given to a family waiting for him at home.

Avoiding a long-term commitment with a woman had been easy enough to accomplish over the years. Not only did he not have the extra time to pursue a relationship, but no woman, including Lora, had ever piqued his interest the way Jo had. With all her complexities, intriguing inner depths, and candid sensuality, she made him want to take the kind of chances he'd evaded for too long. She made him more determined to put his wants and needs first, above and beyond his dedication to a business he'd taken over out of family obligation, rather than any personal attachment or interest.

But so many confusing, conflicting crossroads still
loomed ahead of him. Difficult choices that affected people depending on him, and more complicated decisions that suddenly included this beautiful, vibrant woman he wasn't willing to walk away from at the end of the week. A woman who stirred deep, dormant emotions and made him want to put her needs first, too, and see where a relationship could lead.

Unfortunately, he suspected that Jo wouldn't be so easily swayed on that front. She was a woman who'd made it abundantly clear that she was self-reliant and fiercely independent. He agreed that she was all that and more—including emotionally vulnerable and sensitive in a way she'd
never
admit—yet he couldn't shake the notion that she was trying to prove something, to herself, her brothers and any man who tried to get too close. Himself included.

She might be uninhibited when they made love, but he had private, personal barriers to scale with her. He'd meant what he'd said when he'd told her that he wanted all of her, then asked if she was ready for that, ready for him. In his opinion, her answer of yes, no matter spoken under sexual duress, gave him permission to insinuate himself in her life, at least for the next six days. And if it meant using sex to scratch the surface of something deeper during the course of their time together, he'd gladly pay the price.

He lifted his arm from her waist and cast a quick glance at his wristwatch. He'd let her rest for an hour now, giving her extra minutes of peaceful sleep after her restless night in the motel, while he'd remained awake, alternating between watching her and trying
to dissect the errant thoughts tumbling through his mind. He hated like hell to disturb her tranquil, untroubled slumber, but he had no idea if there was another storm heading in on the heels of the one that had just passed, or how far they had to walk for help.

Reluctantly, he trailed his fingers down her arm to awaken her gently. “Jo,” he said softly, and brushed a tender kiss on her bare shoulder. “You need to wake up so we can get dressed and go find help.” And nourishment, he thought wryly. He was starved for more than just chocolate.

She stirred lazily, stretching her lush body along his already aroused one and tangling their legs in the process. “Do we
have
to go?” she murmured sleepily.

He grinned. He'd stay here forever with her if he could. “I think the storm has finally passed, so it's a good time to venture out.”

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, using an irresistible pout to sway him. “Let's stay just a little bit longer,” she whispered, her lashes drooping slumberously. Reaching back, she pressed her palm to his cheek and scooted her bottom closer to his groin, so that his full erection slipped into the warm, damp crease between her slender thighs.

A sultry heat welcomed him, and he was weak enough to admit that her already primed body was all the incentive he needed to agree to her cajoling request. He nibbled on her lobe, traced his tongue along the shell of her ear and cupped a breast in his hand.
Her nipple instantly hardened against his palm. “You're absolutely insatiable.”

She arched, wriggling her very feminine posterior against his hips and thighs and pushing her breast more fully into his hand as he delicately plucked the stiff peaks with his fingers. “I've got a lot of lost time to make up for,” she said, her tone sensually charged and unapologetic. “And judging by your eager response, I do believe you're more than willing to accommodate my desires.”

He gave her nipple one last pinch, then ran his hand down the slope of her smooth back. “Oh, yeah, more than willing,” he growled against her neck, and felt a shiver of anticipation course through her.

He tossed off the flannel blanket and moved closer against her backside. Using his knee, he nudged her left leg forward and up, spreading her legs and holding her open for his possession. Grasping her hip to hold her in place, and aching to be inside her again, he rubbed his thickened penis against her swollen flesh, then pushed upward, sinking into her and relishing the feel of her heat and softness enveloping him.

Unlike the urgency of their last joining, this time his strokes were unhurried, deep and long. Lazy. Rhythmic. Designed to build the pressure and heighten her awareness of him, of them, together. A low moan of distress escaped her throat when he pulled back and nearly withdrew, then she sighed gratefully at his slow, smooth slide back inside. Her bottom tilted to take more of him, to urge him to take
more of her, but he instead dragged his open mouth along her shoulder, intending to draw out the pleasure, no matter how much the sexy, undulating movements of her body insisted otherwise.

When he retreated yet again, she whimpered and grabbed onto the blanket, using the heel of her hands to push herself back into him the only way she could. “Dean…I need…”

He thrust back into her, stealing the rest of her words as he filled her completely in one fluid stroke. Knowing exactly what she craved, but still determined to do this at his pace, he unfurled her clenched fists and flattened her palm on her stomach, then guided her hand downward, until their entwined fingers glided through damp curls, caressed petal-soft folds of flesh, and gathered the moisture from their joined bodies to use as a silky lubricant.

She tensed, her uncertainty in touching herself in front of him evident in the stillness of her hand trapped beneath his and in the slow, trembling breaths easing in and out of her chest.

He kissed her temple, tasted the salt of perspiration on her skin. “Don't go all shy on me now, sweetheart,” he drawled, persuading her to trust him with gentle humor instead of forceful demands. “Show me what you like, what feels good…”

With an unraveling sigh, she relaxed and taught him the secrets of her body. Let him learn firsthand what pleased her and demonstrated the seductive rhythm that turned her on the most while he continued the slow gyration of his hips, his lazy in-and-out pen
etration. Within minutes he recognized the signs of her approaching climax, the provocative catch of her breath and the way her inner muscles tightened around his shaft and coaxed him deeper and deeper still. Her intimate caresses built to a faster, more urgent crescendo, and a long, low moan reached his ears. She pushed her bottom against his hips, opened her legs wider, straining and arching into him as she greedily took her own pleasure.

Watching her embrace the orgasm shuddering through her that was a direct result of her own ministrations was the most erotic sight he'd ever seen and sent him soaring over the edge with her. His heart pounded erratically in his chest, and he plunged hard and fast, experiencing a need so raw and untamed that it shook the very foundation of his soul.

And then he was lost…in sensation, ecstasy and everything that was Jo Sommers.

 

R
EALITY INTRUDED
much too quickly for Jo's liking—and along with it the reminder that she had a man's innocence to prove, and a brother to convince of her competence. The two points were going to be a hard sell to Cole, she knew, considering the evidence Cole believed was stacked against Dean.

Gut instinct didn't account for much when compared to her past actions and she resented the way those mistakes continually overshadowed Cole's views and opinion of her abilities when it came to her doing a job. But contacting her brother was unavoidable, especially when she'd been out of reach for
hours, and just as soon as they reached some kind of civilization, took care of the truck, and found a place to stay for the night, she'd make that dreaded call.

After forty-five minutes of walking in sprinkling, misty rain while sharing an umbrella, the farmhouse that finally came into sight as the two of them crested a hill had Jo releasing a tired and grateful, “Thank God!” The skies above were gray and leaden, the weather humid and unpredictable, and the threat of yet another storm lingered in the air.

“Thank God is right,” Dean agreed, holding the umbrella to protect them against the wet elements as they crossed the deserted highway to the other side of the road where the farmhouse sat in the distance. “I was about to suggest we head back in the opposite direction to the freeway and hitch a ride into Medford.”

Jo groaned at the thought of hiking all the way back to the interstate, but the notion had crossed her mind as well considering their limited options. “We got lucky, and hopefully whoever lives here will be able to call us a tow truck and get the Suburban to a service station.”

“And us to a restaurant,” Dean said, flashing an easygoing grin at her. “I need food.
Real
food.”

She sidestepped a puddle between them and was amused when he kept the umbrella over her head and let the rain drizzle on him for that three-second split. “That granola bar just didn't do it for you, huh?” After they'd gotten dressed, they'd eaten another
quick snack before heading out for help, just to have something in their stomachs.

He rolled his sexy green eyes. “That
chocolate
-covered granola bar barely put a dent in my appetite,” he said wryly.

His physical hunger might still be raging, but their sexual appetites had been mutually appeased, she knew, remembering everything that had transpired in the back area of the truck. The man was an incredible lover, so attentive, generous and passionate. As a result of his focused attention on her and her pleasure, she felt impossibly mellow, every one of her five senses relaxed and wholly satisfied.

They made their way down a well-traveled gravel road bordered by two fenced-in pastures with grazing horses, and passed a newly painted red barn, along with a pen of chickens, goats and a separate garden of fruits and vegetables—a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the city that she was used to. A few minutes later they cleared the front porch steps to the house. While Jo put away the umbrella, Dean rapped his knuckles loudly on the screen door that opened into a living room.

An older man wearing a pair of faded jean overalls appeared in their line of vision. Dean unexpectedly slipped his palm into hers and intertwined their fingers together. She had no idea why he insisted on holding her hand, but she couldn't say she disliked the intimate gesture.

The man stopped on the other side of the door, a frown furrowing his bushy gray brows as he looked
from her to Dean. Not that Jo could blame him for being wary. No doubt he didn't get many unexpected visitors at his off-the-beaten-path farmhouse.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice deep and gruff, though his brown eyes reflected a genuine kindness beyond all that caution.

“Who's at the door, Frank?” a soft, feminine voice interrupted. A plump, pretty older woman with graying brunette hair came up beside her husband, wiping her hands on the floral apron wrapped around her waist as she peered curiously at the two of them.

“Don't know, Iris,” Frank replied, pushing his fingers through his thinning gray hair. “That's what I was trying to find out.”

“Hello,” the older woman said pleasantly, her smile warm and friendly. “Are you two lost?”

An engaging grin lifted the corners of Dean's lips. “Actually, my wife and I are traveling from Seattle to San Francisco to visit family, and our vehicle broke down a few miles back with a blown radiator hose,” he explained to the couple before Jo had the chance to speak at all. “We were stranded during the storm, and you're the first sign of civilization we've seen on this road. We were hoping you could help us out.”