If Wishes Were Horses (11 page)

Joey W. Hill

his leg and hip brushed hers. His arm slid around her hips, the fingertips of  his other  hand trailing up her bare left thigh. “You  look beautiful, Sarah,” he said, his voice as  soft as a stroke of fur. “No. More than  that. You look irresistibly fuckable.”

Her heart jumped in panic.
 
Get a grip, officer
.

“Well, I hope the guy I'm wearing it for will think so.”

“Sarah.” The small area behind the screen became even more so with just that onemurmured  word, the heat and steel that transformed his expression. They  made her even more aware of everything the garment revealed. The cool air of the shop on her exposed breasts, the press of the thong strap against sensitive nerve endings in dark, secret places, the way the cotton crotch rubbed her dampening folds as she shifted. The tightening of the satin ribbon straps on her bare shoulders as she took a shuddering breath. Her legs trembled as both his hands closed on her waist. She jolted at the sensation that swept through her at that one point of contact.

Her lips moistened, parted. “What?”

She meant to sound tough, unaffected. Instead, she sounded as if she could be shoved to her back by the touch of a finger. If  that finger were Justin Herne's  it might be more truth than metaphor.

“You're a liar.”

He twisted his fingers in the  strap on  the left shoulder and yanked it down, exposing her breast to  the eager cup of his palm. Sarah gasped and arched into histouch, and  found her  mouth claimed by his. His arm around her  waist hauled her upagainst the  full length of his body. He lifted her on her toes so her heels rose out of the shoes.

With a man as elegant and smooth as Justin Herne, a woman expected intimacy to be a well-planned ballet. Sarah knew he was capable of it. But when he moved to kissher now, he was quick, brutal, overpowering.  In a hungry and terrifying heartbeat she realized he had laid a claim on her and this  was his reminder of it, a warning that therewere consequences to provoking him.

She had never kissed a man who kissed like Justin Herne. Hell, she had never imagined a man could kiss like this man did. He  used  not just his lips, but his hold on her body to enhance the effect and make it  explosive. He held her relentlessly againsthim as his hand moved up from her breast to her jaw, his thumb against her throat, collaring and caressing her at once. Her bare  nipple pressed into the  soft cotton of the black T-shirt while his hand splayed out so  his fingers could stroke the dip into the valley between her buttocks. He nipped the  thong strap in his fingers and tugged, making her moan into his mouth and rub her mound against him for a sweet burst offriction she  felt thrum through her thighs and lower belly.

Then there was his mouth, tongue and teeth, scraping, licking, sucking and nibbling until she could only hold on,  her body too weak to do more. She didn't believe in thiskind of magic. Every brain cell screamed one word.

More.

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If Wishes  Were  Horses

* * * * *

She had a date. Like hell she did. Chief Sarah  hadn't opened her legs or her heart to

anyone since her divorce, he’d bet his store  on it. The pussy he'd had the pleasure of  enjoying last night had been excruciatingly tight. Her prickly attitude told him her heart  was in the same condition.

Cops weren't normally a trusting group, and one recently ditched in a marriage would not be an easy fortress to storm. It  was a good thing he’d done extensive readingon the strategies of medieval sieges for a history term paper in college. It was going totake a complex plan not only  to  take this castle, but to keep it. Driving the battering ram through the door to keep it open for a full invasion seemed a logical first step.

His grip eased, but only to spin  her around so she faced the window next to the mirror. One arm remained clamped around her  waist. This part  of the  house faced away from the road, toward a small lawn  where spring wildflowers were starting to come up, bathed in gold by the late afternoon  sun, and outlined by the acres of verdantgreen marsh and silver water of high tide just beyond them. Sarah caught the edge ofthe frame and closed her eyes as his fingers tugged at her ponytail and brought her  hairspilling onto her shoulders.

“Glory,” he murmured, and dropped her barrette to the floor. His fingers slid over her thighs, under the narrow silk and lace crotch, and gently he stroked her damp folds.

“Justin,” she managed. “You can't—”

“Sshh…” His nose pressed into her hair.  He began a slow, painstaking process of using the movements of his face  against her to spill her hair forward and bare her neck.  Each small shove to move the strands to  the edge of her shoulder and send them tumbling forward onto her breast was accompanied by a soft nuzzle, a lick or a gentle bite of her nape. His thumb made idle passes  on her clit, dipping  and pressing slightlyinto her pussy, making her ass lift in response and slide against his erection, pushed against her.  Still he took his time, worrying her neck. She began to wish she had less hair, and then more, and then she was incapable of deciding whether she wanted him to stop, or if she could never get enough.

At last he rubbed his rough jaw against her skin, and his nose  into  the shallow dip of her collarbone, so her head fell  back against his shoulder, letting him suckle the taut line of her windpipe, which seemed to be processing far too little air. His hand took hold of her bare breast, not the nipple, the whole thing, as if he cradled a fragile treasure beneath which her heart beat rapidly.

“I know this may be hard for you to believe, Sarah,” he said, low, his breath hot against her  skin. “I didn't come to your home last night to ravish you. But once I saw you, smelled you, I had to have  you. That was personal, Sarah. We
 
are
 
lovers.” His handtightened on her, not so  gentle. “It’s not about time or preparation. It’s a spark, ignited in a single moment, and don’t you dare deny  it. You know when  it happened last night,as much as I do.”

53

Joey W. Hill

She did remember, though she had tried to block it, even denied it to herself when the moment had occurred last night. Their faces had been close, and he had been insideher. They had both grown still, as  if suddenly time stopped, and there was a heavy hazeof desire slowing their movements. He had  lowered his lips to hers, not to  plunder but to sip, to  taste and find
 
her
, and offer himself. It had been there, an all-consuming moment of heart, mind and soul, and though  it had slipped away before the power oftheir lust only a blink later, it had been potent enough to embed  itself in her memory, called up the moment he summoned it now. It had been intimacy, uncalled butimposing itself on them all the same.

He slid back and began to kiss her, working his way down her spine.

“Do you know how many vertebrae there are, Sarah?”

“No,” she rasped.

“Eight cervical, twelve thoracic, five lumbar and five sacral vertebrae...and thenthere is the coccyx, the lovely, lovely tailbone.”

His mouth closed over one of the bumps of bone he had  enumerated for her, licked.  Then another. “I do not want to miss a single…perfect…one…of them. Ah…missed that one. Have to start over.”

Sarah whimpered. His thumb pushed more  deeply into her pussy as he went several inches back up her spine and started  down again. He was everywhere on her. Awet warm mouth, a flick of the tongue on  her spine. A slow, circular stroke of histhumb inside her cunt. The firm hold of that arm banded across her, his  palm holding her breast, kneading it. What was it about  a strong man holding a woman helpless back against him that could make the knees weak and all brain cells leave the skull?

“Justin,” she pleaded. Her body shook like  a newborn colt. An orgasm was rising in her in a way she had never experienced before, a slow tide rolling in from the horizon. She felt it coming, not in a furious rising  crest, but a straight, powerful charge thatwould punch into her lower body and  knock her legs out from under her.

“Darling Sarah. Let me hear you. I love to hear you come.”

Counting down another vertebrae in a  whisper, his hand worked her. Her pussy made a succulent noise, the juices so thick  they dampened her thighs and his knuckles.  His trousers rubbed against her bare cheeks,  exposed by the thong. The hard outline of his cock was firmly wedged in the channel between her buttocks, pushing the thong strap deeper into her cleft, and her instinctive movements stroked him against her anus, the rhythm  working at odds with his hand as her hips rose and fell with her erratic breathing. She kept coming down on his thumb, which was now pushed inside her tothe farthest knuckle, that curve of  bone resting firmly against her clit. His other fingers were insinuated between her thighs, braced  out straight and unrelenting against them so she had to stay spread open, unable  to contain or control the building climax.

He straightened and  brought his lips back  to her neck. His body pressed fully against hers, giving her a shock of emotional intimacy that shoved the physicalresponse up another notch.

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If Wishes  Were  Horses

“No.”

She barely got it out, but managed to let go  of the sill, trusting him to hold her upwith the arm banded around the  front of her  body. Sarah closed her hand  over his large one between her legs. “No. I want you inside, Justin. Inside.”

He stilled,  eased his thumb from her, nipping her neck as she groaned  at thesensation. She twisted in his arms and fumbled  for the buckle of that slim, elegant belt holding up his neat trousers. The head of his cock rubbed against her wrists through thesummer wool. He muttered an oath, relenting, and helped her, stripping off the beltand unfastening the clasp, shoving the pants and the underwear beneath down to his thighs.

He caught her under the arms before she  could touch him and lifted her onto the sill, her shoulder blades against the hard wood  of the pane dividers and cool glass. Themotion was rough but effective,  his cock  finding her  slippery opening and plunginginto her in a movement so immediate she screamed at the sensation. Her  legs lifted,wrapped around him, and she banded her arms around his shoulders, wishing shecould feel his skin. She settled for the press of  her temple and cheek against his soft hair, and drew in the smell of him with all the mysterious scents of his shop.

He caught her arms and lifted her upper body away from him. “Tell me, Sarah,” he said, his face harsh with need, more than  the need of the moment. “Tell me you wantme.”

She shook her head, made to pull him to her  again, but he had  the belt in his righthand. He shifted his grip to hold it against her upper body, the strap pressed horizontally from shoulder to shoulder, pinning her against the window. It was positioned  right above her nipples, the tension causing the stiffened points to tilt upward and constricting the blood flow so her breasts instantly became more  sensitive. He had his hips pressed hard in between hers, his cock  and his body working with the immovable wall to keep her still. His eyes on hers, he lowered his head, suddenly back to being slow, and flicked one nipple with his tongue.

She cried out. The nerve endings  reacted as  if jolted with electric current. Her lungspumped for air against the restrictive hold  of the belt while he began to suckle her gently, as if he had all the time  in the world. He kept his  hips still, even though her own struggled to move on him, to get some friction going between her pussy and the thick cock he had buried in her. It moved just a bit within her with the movements of hisupper body as he devoted himself to nursing her breast, his mouth making soft, wet noises against her nipple. There was a coil of  energy so tight in  her lower body that thewaves rippled out through her thighs, tiny  orgasms that hinted at the power of a fullonslaught.

He traced the curve of her breast with  his  tongue, moved like a slow tide toward the other eager flushed point. Just her watching the progress of his tongue made the nipple stiffen further.  He blew  on it, giving  it heat, then closed over it and began to suckle again.

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Joey W. Hill

“Justin,” she begged. “Please…” She tried to  move her arms, but his strength on the belt’s restraint was immovable.  Her fingers closed on his shirt helplessly, bunched it in  her damp hands.

He raised a brow, and his eyes were flame.  “I love the feel  of a  woman's pussy  contracting on me, so close, but not quite there, her arousal running down my testicles. I  still haven't washed you off of me from last night, Sarah. Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” she said, her voice rough.  “Damn you.” She made  the leap, though  the abyss had no bottom she could see. She didn't care.  It  was the leap she wanted, the  soaring, the plunge. The bottom had become irrelevant.

Justin lifted his head,  keeping the belt in place. His lips paused just over hers, those  intent eyes so close.

“I want you, too, Sarah,” he said. “I've never wanted a woman this way before.  Ever. I need you.”

There was a shift in his eyes, so  quick she  might not have caught it except she was  trained to notice such shifts,  even at a moment like this.

He
 
did
 
need her, desperately. Maybe it was  just what happened earlier today, but somehow she knew he had a savage need to lose himself in this act with her. How often had she come home with that savage, desperate need, the need to dispel the pain and horror in an  act of love  and physical passion? She had  settled for a civilized dinner andpolite conversation about her husband's work  and glossed over the details of hers, when what she really wanted was for him to  violently sweep dishes and food to the floor and fuck her on the table with every ounce of his strength so she could scream and let all the blood and death be washed away  on a flood of physical and emotional release.