Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (18 page)

Thoughts raced about all the ways he was going to show her what she meant to him. Their future stretched before him, blissful and light. Then her stomach growled.

She snickered but didn’t move. He laughed outright and pulled away, tucking her in tight under the covers before he walked to the bathroom. He threw on a pair of sweats he’d brought with him and walked out.

She was sitting on the bed, the sheet hanging precariously at the tips of her breasts. He moaned and leaned over her on the bed, nuzzling her neck before dipping to lick at the tops of her bared bounty.

She laughed. Guffawed, actually, and he had no idea why. She pointed at the front of his pants and he looked down.

He shrugged. “It’s your fault. Now what do you want for breakfast?”

She licked her lips and cocked her head. “You.” She crooked her finger at him.

He held up his hands and backed away from the bed. “Your stomach is growling. I’ve got to feed you so I can have my way with you later.”

She came up on her hands and knees, sheet falling to the wayside as she advanced. He stopped, the sight of her naked body moving sinuously toward him almost more than he could handle. His dick, which had tented his sweatpants long ago, was now threatening to put a hole straight through the cotton.

She licked her lips again, and he groaned. He felt her hands at his sides, tugging at the sweats that hung low on his hips. How had he gotten back to the bed? She took his mind.

His eyes crossed. Her touch was velvet over the skin of his lower abdomen, and then … she touched the head of his cock. It flexed, and he hissed in a breath.

“Mmmm, look what I found,” she whispered a split second before she licked over the crown.

He grabbed her head and held her still. And then he looked down at her. She lifted her gaze, and in her eyes was his doom. But what a sweet, sweet way to go.

His cock flexed again and bumped against her lips. She smiled and opened her mouth, taking the tip in and laving it with her tongue.

“Fuck me,” he ground out as his head fell back. He lifted up on the balls of his feet, desperate for more. He wanted the feeling of her hot mouth all over his cock, licking and sucking. She pulled his pants down to midthigh and moved even closer, her breath a kiss of fire along his shaft.

“Goddamn, Sophie. That’s so sweet, baby.” He slid the curtain of her hair to the side, watching as she took him all the way in.

Her nails dug into the muscles of his thigh, and she hummed in agreement. The sound vibrated through his balls. His spine tingled, and for a moment he wondered if he’d be able to survive for longer than thirty seconds. She played with the head, dipping her tongue into the slit there and then licking around and down the shaft. She strung lightly biting kisses along the underside of his cock, pausing to lick and suckle the sting away. It drove him insane. Need pounded in his brain, beat at the base of his spine.

“Take it all, Sophie. Don’t tease me,” he begged.

She looked up at him again and wrapped her hand around the base of his dick, squeezing for a second before she cupped his sac. He gazed at her, watched as pleasure traveled her features. Her cheeks were blushed, her lips plump and wet. Her nose flared as she drew in breath, and her eyes closed as she seemed to savor his taste.

“Sophie.”

She pulled away; only her breath teased the tip of his cock. “I’m hungry, Ryan. Surely you won’t begrudge me enjoying this little snack?”

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, struggled for the control she was asking of him. When he opened them, he knew he didn’t have it. Her mouth on his cock was too much pleasure. Maybe in another ten years or so, when he’d managed to work off this crazy lust he had for her, maybe then he could handle a long, slow blowjob. He shook his head as sweat dripped down his chest.

He cupped her cheeks and lifted her face to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing little about it.” He attempted a smile.

Her eyes darkened, and she grasped the base again, her grip tight and a torture all its own.

“Then it should fill me up nicely, don’tcha think?” she asked right before she took him in her mouth, tip to root.

“Fuck!” he shouted as his knees turned to jelly. He locked them, determined to remain standing as she tried to suck his control from him through the tip of his dick.

Her mouth was hot, sweet. He watched as her breasts bounced with her movements and he lowered his hands to grab them, lightly caressing the nipples before he pinched them. She gasped, and the movement was a vise along his shaft. She pulled her mouth away slowly, licking at the head before she drifted down him again.

He released her breasts and placed his hands on her head. Her hair was silk against his skin. She suckled at the tip, tongue laving a torturous path as she traveled down the underside of his shaft toward his sac.

“Widen your stance,” she ordered him.

Ryan obeyed.

She didn’t give him time to breathe before she stroked her tongue along his sac and then drew it into her mouth. He saw stars.

“God, yes,” he moaned. “Just like that, Sophie. Just. Like. That.”

She moaned too, and it ricocheted up his scrotum. He felt the come threatening to explode, and how he held back he had no idea. She was taking his mind away from him. His mind and his control.

“Come, Ryan,” she whispered and then took him in so far he felt her throat close around him.

Then she hummed again, and he lost it.

“Sophie!” Only warning he could give. He tried to move her off him; she resisted. Then it didn’t matter because he was coming.

Blackness edged his vision, all feeling centered on the lava coming from the tip of his cock. She swallowed, and he flexed. She gagged but didn’t pull away, just continued to suck and swallow his ejaculate. His hips wouldn’t stop moving, but eventually, the feel of her mouth on his flesh was a crazy sort of wonderful pain.

“Stop, baby,” he managed to gasp out.

She gave him one more lick, and he groaned. She rested her head against his abdomen and kissed his belly button. His cock still bobbed between them. How the hell was the son of a bitch still hard?

She wrapped her arms around him, and in the easy silence between them, her stomach growled again.

He threw back his head and laughed. She giggled and kissed his stomach again before she lay back on the bed. The low light threw her curves into relief, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. She stretched languidly, and his cock twitched.

She noticed his stillness and looked up at him. She wagged her finger at him. “Feed me.” Another giggle and then, “Food this time.”

“You sure? I could take another round if you’re game.” He winked, his heart lighter than it had ever been.

Her stomach roared this time, settling the discussion.

“Food it is.” He pulled his sweats back up. “I know you don’t have any clothes, but I have another set of sweats and a T-shirt in the bathroom. You can shower and meet me in the kitchen. I should be able to scrounge something up for breakfast.”

“Deal,” she squeaked as she made a beeline for the bathroom.

He shook his head and went to make food. She’d given him amazing loving. The least he could do was feed her.

An hour and half later their bellies were full, and they were sitting across from one another contemplating how to spend the day.

“We could sled,” Ryan said with a grunt.

She shook her head mournfully. “There’s not even enough snow to make a snowman. How the hell are we going to sled?”

He stared at her, and his heart beat harder. The glint of light off her ebony hair made his heart kick. The glow in her cheeks made it damn near pound out of his chest. “Well, I never said we had to sled outside.”

She looked at him askance. “Huh?”

“You didn’t know? Sledding can happen in any venue, in any number of ways. I could show you,” he teased her.

She snorted. “I think you’re pulling my leg.”

He reached under the table between them and grabbed her calf. She’d chosen to put on one of his T-shirts, leaving her legs bare. He had the fire going and it was warm in the house, so he wasn’t worried about that. But her skin beneath his palm was giving him ideas. And a hard-on.

“Ryyyannn…”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m pulling your leg, darling. Come closer, I’ve thought of something else we can do.”

She got up, never breaking eye contact with him. His heart fisted, and his cock rose. She came around the table and straddled his lap. His hands automatically found her hips. Before he realized what he was doing, he shifted her over him, pushing against her mound and watching her eyes close in pleasure.

She licked her lips and then bit into the lower one.

“Shit, you’ve got to stop doing that.”

“Why’s that?” She punctuated each word with a slow roll of her hips. He grunted.

“You biting your lip is what made me kiss you that first time.” He made the admission, and it didn’t faze him. Truth from now on, he promised her silently.

“Then I should do it all the time. I love when you kiss me.”

Ryan obliged her. She moved restlessly over him, hands digging into his shoulders, hips moving back and forth. She drove him to distraction, but he knew she had to be sore. He’d spent the entire night inside her body.

She tasted sweet, but he had to stop before he took her again. He pulled away and smacked her ass. She yelped and rubbed the offended area.

“What was that for?” she inquired with a mean look.

“Tempting me. Come on,” he urged her as he got to his feet. She unwrapped her legs from his waist and put her feet on the floor.

She was so fragile, so tiny. Ryan rubbed his chest. His heart hurt with everything she made him feel.

“Where’re we going?”

“To sled.” He shrugged and led her to the bedroom.

After getting her relatively dressed, he wrapped his coat around her and carried her outside.

She squeaked. “Oh, good Lord, it’s cold out here, Ryan.”

“Big baby. You can’t sled unless you’re where the snow is.” He pointed to the ground.

She looked where he pointed and sniffed delicately. “You said we can sled in any venue. I vote for sledding inside.” She nodded.

“I call wussy. Now sit here for a second,” he told her while he ran back inside.

He located the trash can top and ran back outside.

“You have on nothing but sweatpants and shoes, Mr. Locke. Aren’t you freezing?” she asked.

“Not when I’m beside you,” he whispered at her ear as he picked her up and took off for the driveway.

A minute later and he’d settled her on top of the trash can lid at the top of the drive.

“You ready?”

She looked up at him, eyes bright, cheeks rouged, and laughed. “You’re insane. There’s not enough snow.”

“Snow, shmow. There’s enough wetness on this driveway to sled. Now hang on tight,” he told her as he began pushing.

She squealed as he picked up the pace, the sound echoing through the trees above them. Then he let her go. The driveway was angled down to the cabin, but Ryan had misjudged just how much snow had fallen, or rather how much it had iced over.

They both had, because as she slid over the driveway she picked up speed, and the cabin loomed into view. He wasn’t going to catch her. “Sophie! Stop!”

“I can’t,” she yelled. Her laughter floated on the wind.

The lid was spinning around in circles as she progressed swiftly toward the cabin steps. He saw her face, eyes wide, grin even wider, and he ran faster. She was going to break her neck!

“Sophie, stop!” he hollered again. “Damn it, woman, I said stop!” This hadn’t been such a great idea.

She stopped. Hard and in a tangle of limbs at the bottom of the steps. Ryan almost lost his footing as he hurried toward her. Sliding on his knees, he came to her side.

“Sophie? Baby? You okay?”

She didn’t answer him. She was under his coat somewhere but she wasn’t moving. His heart seized as he tried to uncover her. “Sophie, answer me,” he pleaded.

“Mmmph, woomph batoomph,” she responded.

“What, baby? Hold on, you’re all tangled in my coat.” He finally got her face uncovered.

She was freaking still grinning.

He grinned back at her, unable to stop. “You’ve lost your mind,” he said in exasperation. “Why didn’t you stop?”

She crooked a finger at him, as she had earlier. He obediently leaned toward her. She wrapped an arm around him and whispered in his ear, “Because of this.”

*

Ryan was right. She had lost her mind. As she breathed him in and felt everything tight in her release, she plopped her snowball on his back.

He yelped and jumped up, shock on his face as he tried to get the offending frigid moisture off his hot skin. He was so damn warm. But she’d probably not get to settle against that warmth for a while yet.

His blue eyes held a wicked glint. Uh-oh.

She scrambled up, laughter pulled from her as he tap-danced to rid himself of the snow.

“You little hellion,” he growled.

She slipped, barely managed to stay on her feet, and then he was after her.

She backed away, hands held in front of her. Still the laughter wouldn’t stop. Little Sophie Hanson had gotten the upper snowball on big, bad Ryan Locke. “Now, now. I didn’t even realize that was in my hand,” she said and somehow managed to effect a shocked tone.

He stopped and pinned her with his gaze. “There’s not even enough snow for a snowman,” he mimicked her words from earlier.

She shrugged, tried to keep her rapidly freezing feet from slipping out from under her as she tried to get ready to run. “I think there are times,” she began sagely, “when discretion is the better part of valor.”

“Don’t you throw that, Sophie Hanson,” he warned. His face was blank, and had she been his enemy, fear would’ve curled through her.

But he didn’t scare her. No sirree. He may have seen her as she tried to surreptitiously pick up more snow when she gained her feet, but he didn’t know just how much she had.

“Throw what, Mr. Locke?”

“What you’re hiding behind your back.” The things his voice did to her … oh, man. She should be afraid, but instead she was growing wet underneath his sweatpants.