Her Last Line of Defense (8 page)

“Claire, you make it so hard for a man to say no. A gorgeous, naked woman begs me for sex lessons, what do I say?”

“Part of you says yes.” She ran her hand down his chest and took his cock in her hand, still slippery from his climax. “What does the rest of you say?”

He closed his eyes as she traced his length.
“Oui.
I can’t help myself around you.”

She grinned in triumph. He leaped to life under her touch. Several days in the woods, just the two of them as he taught her all sorts of amazing sexual experiences. “Do you have more condoms?”

He nodded. “A whole box. But you’re not gonna need one now.”

“Why not?”

“You want me to teach you everything?” He folded his hand around hers and moved them up and down his shaft.

“Yes, everything.” Claire’s breath came faster.

“Then you need to know how to touch me with your hand. Take my edge off.” Their hands moved faster. “Make sure I can fuck you for hours after.”

She gave a gasp and he grinned. “Why, Mademoiselle Claire, I noticed before but didn’t want to embarrass you—it seems that you like dirty talk.”

“I…I…”

“Don’t worry your sweet li’l self about it.” He rolled onto his back, never letting go of her hand. “I won’t tell anyone as long as you please me.”

“How do I do that?”

“Like this.” He dragged her hand to his tip and down to the base in a slow, thorough pattern. Once she had that down, he had her kneel next to him. “Lean over my face.”

“What?”

He pillowed his head on his arms. “I want to suck on you. First your sweet titties, and then…” He gave a very male shrug. “Wherever else I want.”

A thrill coursed through her. “Yes, Luc.” She angled her body so her nipples brushed his stubbled cheeks. She knew it felt good and leisurely rubbed his face back and forth before he pulled one tip hard into his mouth.

She bit back a moan. He hadn’t played with her breasts much during their fast and hard coupling. It was difficult to keep a steady pace with her hand.

“I see I’m gon’ have to take the edge off you, too.” She shook again as he unerringly found her clitoris. With hard, deft strokes, he had her climaxing and collapsing on top of him. She barely had time to catch her breath before he urged her upright again. “You shouldn’t have come before I did. Touch me the right way.”

Claire tried to do it the way he wanted, but he kept pinching and sucking her nipples, making her arch and cry his name. He stopped tormenting her with his mouth. “You need to come again, don’t you?” He found where her juices had run down her inner thigh and rubbed them into her tender skin.

“Yes, Luc.”

“Say, ‘yes, please.’”

“Yes, please, Luc.”

“What?”

“I need to come again,” she whispered. He was spread out on his back like some Middle Eastern pasha, all muscle and slick bronzed skin. Her hand was pale and fragile-looking against his thick, blood-engorged erection. She couldn’t believe how he had ensnared her so quickly into such raw sensuality. Cool, quiet Claire, kneeling naked in the woods, begging for a third climax.

“I didn’t hear you.”

She took a deep breath. “I need to come again.”

He gave her a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary smile of triumph. “Damn right you do. You’re the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen.” His crude words heated her even further. “Spread your legs and ride my fingers.”

He slipped two fingers inside her and added a third. She raised and lowered herself on the makeshift shaft and screamed as his thumb pressed her hidden nub. She was wetter than she’d ever been before and he took advantage of it, sliding and spreading his thick fingers.
“Oui,
there.” He pressed inside her and she gushed over his hand, crying his name, crying for release that mercifully broke over her.

She collapsed on him, his one hand still buried inside her. With her cheek resting on his damp chest, she saw him reach around her and cup his cock. Half a dozen quick strokes and he finished what she’d started, his seed arcing high into the air as his heart pounded under her ear. She stared at the raw power of his second orgasm coming only minutes after the first.

She stretched out next to him as they both gasped for air. “You do have a lot stored up, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I hadn’t had sex in a long time. I was able to keep going without it until you broke the dam,
cher
. Now I don’t know how I’m gon’ get you trained in survival when all I want to do is train you in sex.”

“Sex won’t interfere, I promise.” She crossed her heart, tracing her finger over her bare breast.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? How will we go on hikes when all I want is to pull down your pants and take you against a tree? How will I sit on that log and explain important things to you when all I want is you to kneel between my legs and suck on my cock?”

Claire shivered. “I’ve never done that to a man before,” she confessed.

His grip tightened on her. “You keep telling me things like that, you gon’ make me hard again,” he rasped.

Claire smiled. She’d never been complimented like that.

“But, Claire, I need to confess something, too.”

“What is it?” Had he changed his mind already?

He looked guilty for the first time since they’d met. “I have a tent and sleeping bags in the boat.”

“You what?” Her nervousness vanished. “I’ve been sleeping on a bed of branches with sticks poking me in the butt with nothing but a foil blanket and mosquito netting for cover and you had a tent and sleeping bags?” She twisted her fingers into his chest hair and tugged hard.

“Ow!” He grabbed her hand.

She leaned over him. “What’s the matter? The big, tough, Green Beret never had anyone pull on his chest hair before? Better not let the enemy know that or you and your men might wind up as bare-chested as an underwear model.”

“At ease,
mam’zelle.”
He cupped her neck and pulled her down for a kiss. “You needed to learn to make a bed platform and sleep on it. But if you don’t want me to pitch the tent, we could always try doin’ it on your platform. Sure hope you built it well….”

She giggled and kissed him again. “Not that well, Luc. Even a sleeping bag on the ground would be a welcome change.”

“Don’t worry,
bébé.
You and I won’t be doing a whole lotta sleepin’.”

He replied after a pause. “Louisiana.”

She wasn’t an idiot—he was a Cajun, after all. “Yes, I know that, but which part? North, south, east—”

“South central Louisiana. Near the Atchafalaya Basin.”

“What’s it like?”

“Hot, muggy.”

“Oh, like this?” Claire looked around.

“Some.”

She pressed her lips together. “There’s this interesting concept you may have heard of. It may not be part of Green Beret training, but it’s called ‘conversation.’ I say something, and you say more than two words back to me.”

“How about three?”

She shot daggers at his broad shoulders. He didn’t want to talk? She’d fully compensate for it. “My full name is Claire Adeline Cook. My middle name is after my maternal grandmother, who was German, so no jokes about it. I’m an only child but I have a few cousins on my dad’s side. I grew up in Virginia and I majored in humanities with concentrations in English and French literature.” She thought for a second. “My favorite colors are peach and warm coral, which is actually an orangey kind of red, but that looks better in winter, whereas peach is a pastel better suited for summer. I have a horse named Pumpkin at home, and I won some riding competitions when I was a kid.” She paused to drink from her canteen.

He still didn’t reply, so she continued doggedly. “My best friend is Janey, whom you met. She’s very busy with her army career, so I don’t see her often. I enjoy yoga, French cooking and tutoring kids in an after-school reading program.” She wound down, suddenly tired of trying to get a response from him.

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

“My full name is Luc Edouard Boudreaux. My middle name is after my father.”

Claire stared at his back in amazement. It was the most he’d said about himself, ever. But he continued, “I have six older sisters.”

Her eyes bugged out, but she didn’t dare say anything to interrupt the flow.

“I have about thirty cousins last I counted, and I majored in English and drama at Tulane. My favorite color is army green, and I had a pet alligator when I was a kid. My best friend is Olie, who’s also very busy with his army career, but I see a lot of him.”

Claire smiled at his wry sense of humor.

“What else did I miss?”

“Hobbies.”

“Running and weightlifting.” He fell silent.

“Six sisters?”

“Yeah, I blame them for getting me into the drama thing. They were always dressing me up as the male lead in their plays.”

“So that’s how you know about Shakespeare.”

“I was in a couple productions.”

She quoted a few lines from Romeo and Juliet in a girlish English accent.

He slid effortlessly into a flawless accent and quoted the next lines right back to her.

“Very good.” She applauded and he turned around to give her a sweeping bow, his machete dipping like an old-fashioned rapier.

“Better now?”

“What?”

He grinned at her. “Now that you know something about me.”

Busted. “Yes, I do feel better. You may not believe this, but I don’t normally jump into bed with strangers.”

“We haven’t made it to a bed, yet,
béb
.”

That must be short for
baby
in Cajun, kind of like being called “babe.” Her face heated. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I promise not to think less of you, Claire. I’m honored you would break your own rules to be with me.”

He had broken his rules, as well, but Claire worried he’d get all noble and self-sacrificing and refuse to come near her again if she mentioned it. She gestured at the wilderness around them. “Out here, rules were meant to be broken, right?”

“You’re only allowed to break the ones that don’t get you hurt.”

She wanted to ask if he meant emotionally hurt, as well, but figured that topic was best left for another time, or perhaps left alone altogether. “So, six sisters—I can’t even imagine! What are their names?”

He set off along the trail again. “Let’s see—Evangeline is the oldest, then Jolie, Nicolette, Gabrielle, Acadia and finally Adeline right before me.”

He said his sister’s name with a French accent, but she recognized it. “That’s my middle name!”

“So, you see why I wouldn’t make fun of your name. Don’t want two angry women comin’ after me.”

“Oh, I think you can handle yourself.”

“Claire, you never met Adeline.”

Luc whipped around from where he was checking their coordinates on his map. “What the hell?” He was at her side before she could blink. “Did you step on something, you?”

She peeled off her sock gingerly. The reddened areas she had so carefully cushioned in the morning were raw and bleeding blisters.

“Ah, boo, your poor feet.” He tsked like an old lady as he knelt and examined her other foot, which was just as bad. He returned with some water and his first-aid kit before gently lifting one foot to rest on his thigh.

“Boo?” She tried not to wince as he doused her wounds with water before carefully disinfecting and bandaging them.

“What?” He didn’t look up, intent on his task.

“What does ‘boo’ mean?”

He met her glance sheepishly. “It’s an old Cajun term of endearment—like ‘dear’ or ‘honey.’”

She smiled despite the pain. So he’d called her the equivalent of “honey” and had answered to it when she’d asked about it. “How on earth did they ever come up with ‘boo’?”

“No idea. Cajun French is full of Spanish, African and Indian words. The university linguists adore comin’ round with their digital recorders to talk to the
papères
and
mamères
—grandpas and grandmas. My own
mamère
is interviewed every Christmas, Easter and summer break.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Not much. She informed us the last academic told her she was a national cultural treasure, so we’d better behave ourselves or she’d pass us a slap.” He grinned. “A slap from a national cultural treasure still stings pretty good.”

So did her feet. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hike very much tomorrow. Is there something we can work on close to camp?”

He frowned and finished doctoring her. “You think I make you hike on those feet, you?” She knew he was getting irritated when he added French-style reflexive pronouns. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

“A good one.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

He looked up, startled. “I don’t know ’bout that, Claire.”

“Well, I do.”

He grunted and packed away his supplies before pulling out her canvas sneakers she wore in camp at night to let her boots dry.

“I don’t think my feet will fit in those anymore.”

“Sure they will.” He pulled out his razor-sharp knife and made several slits in the shoes to allow for her bandages. When he was done they looked more like sandals.

She eased her feet into them. “Thanks for taking such good care of me, Luc.”

“De rien,
it was nothin’.” He shook his head. “Just because I broke my word about certain things doesn’t mean I won’t look after you.” He picked up the water purifier and busied himself refilling the canteen.

He was still feeling guilty for giving in to her sexually. She smiled. “Luc?”

“Yes?”

She stood, wobbling slightly in her jerry-rigged shoes. He was at her side immediately. “Can you help me to the tent? I want to get off my feet.”

He swept her into his arms and carried her to the tent flap, setting her gently down on the sleeping bags. After three nights of tree branches, they were heavenly soft.

“Better?” He knelt next to her.

She stroked his knee, daring to glide her hand up his thigh when he offered her no resistance. “I could be a lot better if you helped distract me.”

His black eyes glittered in the dim light. “What kind of distraction did you have in mind, boo?”

“This.” She moved her hand a few inches over and found his growing erection.

“You want this?” He undid his gear belt and unbuttoned his fly. She freed him from his briefs, cradling him with trembling hands as he swelled under her touch. “You want all of it?” He grabbed her wrist and made her cup his heavy sac. His weight and power sent a wet gush between her legs.

She nodded.

“Then lick me.”

To call her unskilled in that area was an understatement. Still, she bent her head and licked him as if he were a big purple ice cream cone.

He jerked under her tongue, leaving an unfamiliar taste of salt and musk.
“C’est bon, ça.”

Good, that meant he liked it. She licked a few more times but he cradled the back of her head and urged her deeper. She struggled a bit, and he looked at her in alarm.

She paused and took a deep breath, then tentatively opened her mouth wider. He stopped her.

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t any good at that.” She blinked hard. So much for being a wild woman.

“I didn’t stop you ’cause it made me feel bad—I stopped you because it didn’t make
you
feel good.” He nuzzled her neck until she tipped back her head. “I only want to make you feel good.” He pressed kisses down her neck to her collarbone and rapidly undressed her, being extra careful of her feet. When he was done, she lay naked on the sleeping bags. “Claire, don’t you look pretty enough to eat.”

“Eat?” Did that mean what she thought?

“You ever had a man eat you up before?” He pressed his fingers between her thighs. “Take you into his mouth right here?”

She shook her head, wincing. She’d been in the woods for days without a proper shower, for goodness’ sake. How could he want to do…that?

“Okay,
cher
. His tone was gentle. “Someday soon, though. You’ll love it, I promise.”

Yeah, right. But her embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he stroked her clitoris. “The tongue, it’s not so different from the finger. Hot, wet and slick, it slides over this little jewel back and forth, back and forth.”

Her hips rotated as his hypnotic voice filled the tent.

“Your body, it tells me what you like. The finger, it touch, but the tongue, oh, the tongue, it taste what you like.” He withdrew his hand and licked his fingers.

Her eyes flew wide with shock. “Luc!”

“Mmm, you taste go-ood.” He grinned down at her with no signs of disgust. “Can’t hardly wait to get my face snuggled up there.” He put his fingers back. “Now if I was eatin’ you up, I’d use both hands to spread your legs wide like so. And I’d take my thumbs to pull back the hood from your little jewel, like so. Then I real gentle tease you, an’ tease you with flicks of my tongue—like this.” As he played with her innermost flesh, Claire swelled and grew under his slow, instructive touch. How did he know the secrets of her body when she’d never discovered them for herself?

“Well, would you look at that? My fingers are telling me you like showing me your sweetness. Your little
chatte
is getting all pink and plump.”

“Chatte?”

He gave her a sly smile. “
Chatte
is a female cat.”

Cat, kitten—oh. “I never learned that slang word in French class.”

“I should hope not.” He gave her a look of mock outrage. “If all you fancy prep school girls went around petting your
chattes
, you never get any homework done.”

She blushed. “I never did.”

“Did your homework? You naughty girl.”

“Not that! The other.”

“No time like the present.” He caught her hand and brought it down to her, um, well,
chatte.
She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. “I told you I would teach you everything you needed to know. You need to know this.”

He moved her fingers across her clitoris. “Learn what you like. Fast and hard?”

She choked back a moan as he strummed her like she was a guitar.

“Or slower, in circles?”

“I…like it…all,” she gasped.

“Bon.
Now you gon’ play with yourself while I fuck you.”

She stared at him. “Aren’t you, um, going to take off your clothes?”

“No, don’t think so.” He bent down to kiss her nipple. “I think you might like my soft T-shirt rubbing your titties.” He pressed his chest against her bare breasts and she groaned. It did feel good.

“And I think you’d like my rough pants slapping your sweet li’l ass.” He stroked himself a few times, his big hand working up and down his erection. “That’s real good. Maybe I touch myself, then you touch yourself, we see who comes first?”

“No, Luc, I can’t wait.” The sight of him pleasuring himself was extremely arousing. He stared raptly at her naked breasts, hard nipples and wide-open thighs as if she were his most secret fantasy.

And he was hers. She took a deep breath and touched her clitoris. He groaned, and she took that for encouragement, stroking herself with more boldness than she ever had. She really did swell under her fingers, her juices easily slicking the way. Juicy enough for Luc to slide right in and mix his with hers. She wanted his bare skin inside her, his clothing rubbing her. “Come inside me,” she whispered. The pressure was driving her crazy.

“Where,
cher?”

“My
chatte.
Please,” she added.

He stroked himself a few more times. “Since you asked so nice…” He sheathed himself in a condom and moved between her thighs. “Take me,
béb.”

This time, he slid right in, locking them together. “Ah, Claire, so fuckin’ tight and hot. I never want to leave you.” He kissed her, his tongue deep in her mouth. She sucked on it hard like she’d wanted to suck on his other body part and he groaned.

Claire instinctively raised her hips as he slid in and out of her. He broke their kiss to gasp for air. “Ride me, Claire. You ever get turned on bouncing up and down on that saddle of yours?”

She nodded. Not that she’d known what it meant at the time. Before she could say anything, he’d scooped her up and rolled onto his back so she was sitting on his cock, totally naked and exposed, her hair a mess and her breasts bouncing all over. “Ride me hard, Claire. I want to see your
chatte
coming up and down my cock, your ass rubbing my balls. Do it.”

Claire hesitated for a second but he wrapped his big hands around her hips and lifted her up and down for a few seconds until she got the rhythm. After that, her body knew what to do.

She rose and fell on him, her hands braced on his taut chest. He tipped his head back and matched her rhythm. She decided for a little variety and swiveled her hips, leaning forward and back. She swore his eyes crossed as he swelled inside her even more.

Luc let go of her hips and squeezed her breasts, her nipples rubbing his rough palms. He found her rock-hard nipples and pinched them both at the same time. She cried out as the sensation shot straight down to her clitoris.

“Touch yourself again,” he groaned. “Can’t last much longer with you riding me like a stallion.”

She slipped her finger over her clitoris, her nail brushing the base of his shaft. They groaned in unison. “Oh, Luc.” She was shaking almost too hard to keep moving, but the pressure inside her was so delicious she never wanted it to end.

“Hurry, hurry,” he urged her. His hands mapped her breasts, belly, bottom, blurring the boundaries between his body and hers. She contracted around him and he looked at her with glassy eyes. “Now?”

“Now!”

His fierce thrusts made her melt all over him, her
chatte
throbbing as he pounded deep inside her. She moaned his name, begged and pleaded with him, but he was merciless, dragging her into a second orgasm before letting go himself.

“Claire, oh, Claire…” He broke off into a shout of sexual triumph, bucking and pulsing as he emptied himself in a long, powerful climax.