Nauti Dreams (14 page)

feathered over his eyes.

When he looked at her like that, she melted. Then she felt his hands at the belt of her

jeans.

She was naked from the waist up, or practically naked, because the bra she wore didn’t

hide much from view.

“Natches, I don’t think I can stand through this.”

And she didn’t. Her knees were weakening. She could feel her legs turning to mush, right

along with her objections. This was Natches. Wicked, erotic Natches. His kisses were a

flame that burned to the icy core of her. His touch was an inferno, warming her from the

inside out.

And she needed to be warm. Just for a little while. She needed to be warmed by him, just

one more time.

As his lips moved over her neck, her arms found strength. As his hands pushed beneath

the waist of her jeans, she struggled against him, pushing at his arms.

“Easy, Chay.”

“Not easy.” She nipped at his neck, clearly surprising him as she tugged at his T-shirt.

She wanted him bare as well. She wanted to feel him against her, bare flesh to bare flesh.

She needed it.

He whipped the shirt from his body and tossed it aside as her hands went to his belt.

Shaking, uncertain, her fingers pulled and tugged at it.

“There you go, Chay. Get naughty for me.”

She tore at the metal button, then eased the zipper over the hard, throbbing length of his

cock. She moved it down slowly, working it over the stiff ridge as a hard growl passed

his lips.

He wanted her naughty? She wasn’t naughty; she was starving for him. Five years of

pent-up hunger blazed through her, erupting from a well of need that she’d had no idea

existed within her.

Those distant memories from five years before didn’t compare to this. The feel of his

body, so large and broad, hard and muscular, bending to her, almost protectively. His lips

on her neck, teeth rasping. His hands working her jeans over her hips as hunger seemed

to permeate the air.

Chaya could feel perspiration gathering on her body, the heat building inside them,

flowing around them, as she pushed at his jeans, frantic to get to the heated flesh of his

cock.

“There you go, sweetheart; burn for me,” he growled as his hands slid around to her rear,

clenched, then lifted.

He raised her along his body, dragging her from her goal as a protesting cry fell from her

lips. A second later, she felt the cool top of the low counter, heard a chair falling to the

floor as he kicked it out of the way, and then Natches was kissing her again.

She couldn’t get enough of his kisses, or his touches. She couldn’t kiss back enough,

couldn’t touch enough. She was consumed, inside and out, by a need so fiery she didn’t

have a hope of controlling it.

“Here, get these off.” He pulled away from her, despite her attempts to draw him back

and the mewling sound that fell from her lips.

His hair was tangled, mussed from her fingers and framing his roguish face. Dark

eroticism sharpened his features, his eyes. His bare chest was sheened with sweat, the

hair prickling her fingers as she ran her hands down it.

She ached for him now. Ached with a power that had her arching as she fought to

breathe, as he pulled the boots from her feet and tugged her jeans down her legs.

She was naked but for the bra and panties. Scraps of material that did nothing to shield

her from his eyes. And he was looking. His gaze went over her slowly as his hands

smoothed up her legs, her inner thighs, parting them as he centered on the wet core of her

body.

“You still shave?” He ran the backs of his fingers over the damp cotton that shielded the

swollen folds of her sex.

Chaya swallowed tightly. “Wax.”

Pleasure and anticipation tightened his features, and the look caused her womb to clench

in response. He was aroused, dangerously aroused. She could see it in his face, feel it in

his body.

“Five years.” His voice was guttural. “I’ve dreamed about that one night, Chay, for five

fucking years. Tormented by it. Driven fucking crazy by it.”

Her lips parted at the intensity behind the words. To be wanted like that. She had never

been wanted so desperately by a man as Natches wanted her. And only once—five years

before—had she felt this kind of desire for a man.

Five years. Too long. Too many memories, too many dreams and fantasies to fuel this

hunger.

“I—I ached. Every day.” The words came from her, unbidden, the strain from the attempt

to hold them back causing a sob to pass her throat. “Natches—you’re going to destroy

me.”

His fingers hooked in the band of her panties, and he drew them slowly over her hips

with the soft command “Lift.”

She arched her hips, watching his eyes, his face, watching the hunger grow in him and

feeling it grow in her.

He dropped the scrap of material to the floor, a grimace contorting his features as he

forced his gaze from the glistening flesh between her thighs and stared back at her.

Chaya felt caught, trapped, and it terrified her. The power this man held over her. How

was she supposed to fight this? Control this?

“Now for this.” His fingers moved to the front clasp of her bra.

Chaya’s breath caught in her throat as he flicked the tiny clasp open, then peeled the cups

back from her breasts and pushed the straps over her shoulders. Her fingers dug into the

countertop as she leaned back at the urging of his hands against her shoulders.

“So pretty.” His hands framed the swollen mounds, his fingers dark against her lighter

flesh as he lifted them, caressed them.

Calloused fingertips stroked over the hardened nipples. Her womb convulsed, and she felt

the damp warmth of her juices spilling from her.

“Natches.” She arched to him, distant memories of him bending to her, taking her nipple

in his mouth, flashing through her mind a second before his actions followed her

memories.

And the reality was better. She arched and cried out at the feel of his mouth, hot and

hungry, devouring her nipple. His tongue lashed at it, rasped over it as he suckled,

sending exquisite sparks of pure sensation exploding through her system.

“Oh God, Natches.” Her head fell back as she felt her arms weakening.

As though he knew, sensed her inability to hold herself up to him, one arm curved around

her back, tightened, and allowed her hands to lift from the counter as he lowered her, her

arms curling around his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.

His mouth was so hot, his tongue like a brand burning across her nipple. First one, then

the other. He sucked at the hard points greedily as she became lost in a vortex of pleasure

she knew she could never escape.

“Ah, yes, that’s my Chay.” He ran his tongue in the valley between her breasts.

She shivered at the caress, her thighs tightening on his, her hips undulating at the subtle

pressure of his cock head against the slick folds of her sex.

She needed him there. She needed him to take her. Hard. Fast. Deep.

“I missed this,” he crooned as his lips began to kiss a path down her stomach. “Missed

touching you, feeling you against me.”

Her back arched as a tremulous cry tore from her.

“Do you remember it, Chay? So hot it burned us alive? So much pleasure we thought we

were dying.”

She remembered it. She remembered all of it. Like an inferno blast that she had

convinced herself was no more than her need to escape her pain. It had been so much

more though. Because it was hotter this time, the ache deeper. It was Natches. His touch

was like an addiction, and the need only grew the longer the separation. There was no

going cold turkey. No escaping the effect of it.

“Ahh, so sweet.” His tongue licked over the top of the mound between her thighs. So

close to her clit. So close she could feel the heat of it, anticipate the wild ecstasy it could bring her.

When it came, it shattered her. Because it was even brighter, hotter, than she

remembered, the pleasure swirled through her fear and dissipated it. The need for control

evaporated. She was lost in the pleasure, and there was no other place to be. No other

place she ever wanted to be.

His tongue slid around her clit, and he groaned against it.

“So sweet, Chay. You taste like summer.”

Her hands speared into his hair, the thick, silken strands twining around her fingers as she

fought to pull him back to her.

And he chuckled against her flesh, a dark, greedy sound. His tongue licked slow and easy

through the narrow slit so rich with awakened sensations. Nerve endings came fully alert,

too close to the surface of her skin, reveling in his touch again.

She called out his name, her voice hoarse with need, begging him to take her. His hands

pushed her thighs farther apart, his head dipped, and his tongue filled her. Ecstasy nearly

shattered inside her. So close. She was so close.

“Please.” She moaned, feeling her release, so close, almost there. Oh God, she needed to

come. She needed that wild explosion tearing through her, the release she had only

known one other time, had only known with Natches.

“Are you mine, Chaya?” His voice was a dark, seductive croon, pulling her in as he

licked again, drawing her taste to him, stroking her into an abyss of sensation and

pleasure.

She would give him anything for this. Be anything he wanted as long as she had this.

“Yours.” She was barely aware of the word tearing from her lips. “Always yours,

Natches. Oh God, I’ve always been yours.”

He paused, a short moment of stillness that her breath caught, then his lips surrounded

her clit, drew it into the suckling heat of his mouth, to the licking tip of his tongue, and he pushed her over that edge.

She felt the explosion rip through her, drawing her up, arching her against him as a

throttled scream left her lips and she dissolved into him.

She melted. For a moment, just for a moment, she felt herself sinking into the very pores

of his flesh, and understood that this was where she belonged. This was the addiction that

was Natches. To belong to him so deeply that she was a part of him.

And it lasted for an endless moment. Then he was lifting his head, pushing her legs apart,

and before the final wave of release washed through her, he began working the hard

length of his erection inside her.

“Look at me, damn you.”

Chaya’s eyes jerked open at the command. Dazed, almost unfocused, she stared up at the

dark vision of every woman’s sexual fantasy come to life.

Black hair framing savage features, green eyes almost glowing in his sun-darkened face,

nostrils flared in desperate hunger as his lips drew back from his teeth.

Raw erotic pleasure tore through her at the sight. This man, this sexual intensity, centered

on her. On plain Chaya Dane, and God only knew Natches was more man than she had

any hope of controlling.

And there was no need to control him now. Pleasure swamped control. There was no

thought of control, only sensation—the feel of him working his cock inside her, the thick

crest parting tender tissue as perspiration began to form on his shoulders and chest and

run in small rivulets along the center of his body.

“Look at me, Chay.” His voice was deep, hoarse. “Let me see you, baby. Let me see if

I’m making you feel good. Does it feel good, Chay?”

Feel good? He was destroying her with pleasure. Her lips parted to tell him, but all she

could do was moan his name and stare back at him. And feel him. Feel him stretching

her, burning her. She was locked in a grip of ecstasy—it thrummed through her veins,

heated her blood and tormented her nerve endings.

“Look at me, Chay.” His voice hardened when she would have closed her eyes.

Forcing them open, she stared back at him. His jaw was clenched, sweat dripped along

his forehead and down his face. His shoulders bunched, and she felt his thighs tighten as

he pulled his erection back, then worked it into her farther, deeper, taking her until she

was trying not to scream, until she was burning around him, and with a strangled groan,

he buried himself full length inside her.

Hard hands clenched on her hips as he penetrated her fully, and some dark emotion in his

eyes flared.

“Has there been anyone else?” She watched him speak, heard the words and tried to make

sense of them.

“What?”

“Other men. Has another man taken what’s mine, damn it?” Pure male dominance

flashed in his expression, in his eyes.

Another man? She shook her head; she couldn’t bear another man’s touch. Didn’t want it.

Never, ever thought of it.

She shook her head again. “No one. No one but you . . .” She wanted to tell him she only

wanted him, only needed him, but as the words tried to slip past her lips, he moved.

As though the admission broke the last of his own control, he was moving inside her,

plunging, fucking her with fast, furious strokes that threw her almost instantly into

orgasm.

It was like that with Natches. So wild there was no hope of holding on. So hot there

wasn’t a chance of not burning alive.

She arched and cried out his name. Her eyes closed, her neck lifted, and she felt him

tighten, heard his hoarse exclamation before she felt him spill inside her. Heated, fierce

jets of semen spurted into the quaking depths of her vagina and pushed her into another,