Provocative Professions Collection (45 page)

Christmas passed almost a month ago, but it's still funny.
When I said it.

Chapter 12

"What do we do now?" Stiffness is settling in my banged-up body, I'm hungry, and the ambiance of a bare-chested Vaughn holding me in front of a crackling fire is fast becoming intoxicating.

"You check if there were any beds?" he asks, his breath whispering over the side of my neck.

"Yeah. There's not."

I can't turn my head to look at him, so I sit unmoving as his finger trails over my shoulder and moves my hair aside.

"Any blankets in the closets?"

I need space, fast, and shove him away. "Psshh," I scoff. "I started a fire, don't push it. If I was a giant, hungry rat, the
first
place I'd hide would be a closet.
Ergo
, I did not explore those."

"All right," he stands up, soaking in a second more of heat, "I'll see what I can find. You good here?"

"Dandy." I smile up at him with condescending sweetness.

It doesn't take him long to return from his search down the short hall, carrying a lone sleeping bag. I'm half tempted to steal it for myself, but like the strangely generous person I'm somehow becoming, I only shake my head and ignore his suggestive chuckle.

"Feel free to snuggle," he taunts, unrolling our makeshift flannel bed onto the floor a little too close to the fire for my taste.

"Do I have another option behind one of those doors back there?" I stand, hands perched on my hips. "You know, one that doesn't involve me freezing overnight or sleeping with you?"

He places his finger to his chin and looks skyward in mock thoughtfulness, then very slowly moves his gaze back to mine, that damn grin creeping over his gorgeous mouth. "Nope. Now get your stubborn ass in there."

Unable to admit defeat without being a bitch, I bend and tug the bag further away from the flames. "We already escaped death
once
today," I remind him. "Let's not tempt fate with the option of a fiery death."

With only a small smile, he climbs inside the sleeping bag and murmurs, "One day."

Removing my socks, something I refuse to sleep in no matter how cold it gets, I take the bait. "One day what? You'll get us out of here and go find some new skank to get you off?" I mock.

His smile grows wider and cockier as he scooches over for me to join him. "Jealousy looks good on you," he drawls. "Real good."

"Goodnight, Vaughn," I grumble, ignoring the flare of arousal in my gut as I brush along his hard frame. I turn away from him, attempting and failing at not smashing our bodies together, since his groin is now firmly pressed against my ass. "Keep your hands and other
parts
to yourself or they'll be missing by morning," I hiss, closing my eyes tight and begging my pussy to calm the hell down. After a few painful minutes of silence, I add, "By the way, you have to care about someone to be jealous. And no man is worth the trouble."

"One day…" I hear him repeat, voice stern and suddenly distant. "One day you'll see. Night, Firecracker."

The witches of the woods are testing me. It's the only possible explanation for our current arrangement. The morning sun's still not up and somehow we're tangled together, wrapped around each other like strands of DNA.

Can't be in need of body heat, the
overabundance
of it evidenced by my racing heartbeat and his accelerated deep breathing and unfailing erection poking me in the ribs. My head rests in the nook of his arm, the one curling up to repeatedly stroke my hair. I have no words to spill, no unnecessary niceties or jabs. Maybe it's the camaraderie of isolation or the sinewy bare chest on which I'm half sprawled over weaving a seductive spell, but I'm utterly entranced.

If we were still safe at home, I'd never stray from plan Keep the Peace, but here…like this…

"I know you're awake," he whispers against the top of my head, his mouth resting there.

It catapults my undeniable desire for him to new heights.

"Maybe," I answer in a labored breath.

"We could blame it on boredom," he suggests, as if joking, which we both know he's not.

The resentment of my need surfaces with a bitter sigh. "Vaughn—"

He rolls over me, hissing in pain I know is from his shoulder, but not deterred in the slightest. He traps me under him, bracing himself on his elbows. "Don't waste your bullshit on me. You want it as much as I do."

I shove against his chest. "Don't flatter yourself!"

He doesn't budge, instead lowering himself down, our bodies flush with sinful sensations. "You saying no?" He gazes down at me, his breath mingling with mine, eyes bright and blazing enough to shame the ones in the hearth.

"No," I whisper.

"No, what?" he whispers back.

"I'm not saying no."

"Then I'm just getting started." The delicious weight of him disappears as he unzips the bag, shooting pangs of anticipation flaring in me at the sound. "Shirt off," he demands, sliding up onto his knees, already working my pants open and down my legs.

"It's cold."

"Won't be an issue." He winks.

I'm heating up just from the sexy way he said it, fuck me eyes raking over every inch of my skin, stopping to burn into the spot I need him most. "Vaughn," I plead, panting and searching desperately for a hold on his firm ass.

He zips us back inside our fortress, bringing us closer again. "Love you moaning my name, Paige. You want me here," he glides a finger through my wetness and into me, rubbing my clit with the pad of his thumb, "bare? Tell me yes and I'll give it to you."

I'm on the pill, when I'm not stranded in the woods…and based on the quick reinforcement count I do in my head, we're good to go. "Yes. Fuck me, please."

His grunt is full, deprived male as he slides his hands under my ass and impales me, filling me with one forceful thrust, abrupt and electrifying. His heaving breaths of exertion at my ear, in between suckles and licks on my neck and breasts, intensify with each powerful stroke. In a makeshift cocoon, Vaughn and I become a raging, almost spiritual, union, one that leaves me begging for more no matter how painful a scar it'll leave.

He looms over me, eyes never leaving mine. His rhythm slows, taking his time with long, languid drives into my body, tilting and circling his hips to stretch and brush every single part of me. I bask in his care and thorough attention, but soon grow restless, clinging to my sanity by a thread.

"You're torturing me," I whine, needing more.

"Hmm." He moves his hands to the insides of my thighs, opening me wider for his taking. "You're so hot, and wet, and swollen. It's fucking fantastic. Never had it raw, want it to last. So gorgeous." He trails a finger down between my breasts and back up, tracing a circle around my nipple, continuously rocking in and out of me. "
So
damn gorgeous, Paige. You like it slow, your body tells me."

"But I need more."

"You can come while I take my time, babe. Go ahead." He flicks my clit, then spreads me apart, running a finger up and down the insides of each lip, his thick, pulsing cock lavishing the same sensual benevolence in my core. "You're gonna give it to me, aren't ya, Firecracker? I know you are, I feel you quivering for my cock. Look at me, Paige."

He pushes both my knees up as far as our confines will allow and falls forward, one hand on each side of my head, not even wincing from the pain in his shoulder this time. He's all virile male, invincibly lost in us.

"Kiss me, babe, and drench my cock." With a potent kiss, he remains slow, but adds debilitating force with each plunge inside, going deeper than I'd have thought possible.

I break from his mouth to scream, thighs quaking as a tingle rushes up my legs to my pussy, detonating into an orgasm greater than any of my dreams. "Ohhhhh my Goddd!" I wail, thrashing my head, ache forgotten. "No more, enough," I beg as I come down, catching my breath.

"Yes, more. Fuck, Paige, I can feel everything this way. Every throb, wet, heat, unbelievable. So fucking good, babe. Come on me one more time. I wanna feel what I do to you all over again. One more, take me with you."

Even if he wasn't long and wide and rubbing every right spot, his hot-ass words in my ear would be enough.

"Your pussy's trembling. Goddamn, you have no—ahhh…idea. Ah, want me—fuck—to pull out? Paige? Babe?"

I sit up enough to reach for and lock onto his ass, holding him tight against me, pulling him impossibly further inside. "Deeper. Come deep in me, Vaughn, I want it." I push my pelvis into him, his thrusts shallow now as he throws his head back and explodes into me with the howl of a madman as my inner muscles demand every last drop from him as my own.

"Never, ever," he huffs, mixed with swipes of his tongue down my neck and tastes of my mouth, "allowed to stop fucking me."

I guess hunting's done at the ass crack of dawn—explaining the lack of curtains and high beam glare waking me up. I chance a peek over at Vaughn, still sleeping like the dead, and with slow, methodical movements unwrap myself from his limbs, careful not to wake him.

The moment I'm on my feet, my ankle's screaming at me to sit the hell down, which I'll gladly do…as soon as I find my panties. You'd think since the room's so small, containing nothing more than a few wooden chairs and miscellaneous crap, that they'd be laying around, but nope, you'd be wrong.
Must be in the sleeping bag.

With a wobbly, one-legged hop, I snatch my pants from the floor—at least those haven't disappeared—then make my way to a rickety old chair and plop my ass down. My ankle's swollen and stiff but worse are the hunger pangs that aren't seeming to quiet with my usual dose of "suck-it-up."

My stomach churns, an inhuman growl calling out for nourishment. My head snaps toward Vaughn, expecting to find his eyes awake and on me, but to my complete shock, he's slept right through it.

I'd laugh if not for the manic need to eat forcing me up and toward what passes for a kitchen, and I'm being very generous on the title. I'm hoping like hell that's where I'll find Vaughn's bag with the food waiting. A quick scan tells me, I'm shit out of luck.

Aggravation mixed with gurgling stomach acid removes all traces of pain from my ankle and sets me off in a panicked search around the room, half convinced the sneaky bastard hid the damn thing.

I'd rather resort to cannibalism than open the creepy-looking door I'm currently eyeing, but A. Vaughn's not dead and
may
put up a fight, and B. if this
is
the kitchen, it's probably a pantry—as in food pantry. Hunters have to eat too.

I cave to starvation and limp my way over, silently berating myself for acting like a pussy with every step I take. A simple turn of the knob gets me nowhere—locked or jammed—but now I
know
there's a smorgasbord on the other side and I will
not
be denied.

I throw my shoulder against the door, jiggling the knob at the same time.

Nothing.

Oh, hell no. I've never been a quitter, which is why my anger spikes alongside the newfound strength in my pursuit for what's behind this door. I'm not sure how many times I slam into it before my entire left side is protesting, but I'm on a mission. That is, until the voice behind me startles me backward.

"What the hell, Paige?" a sleepy Vaughn groans.

I jolt, jumping back from the door and rubbing my shoulder. "Don't sneak up on people!"

He eyes me with a scrunched brow before shifting his focus to the secret door that looks exactly the same as it did before my wrath. "What is it you think is in there that calls for the loudest sunrise B&E in history?"

I swing a swift, hard kick to the door with my good foot. "My stomach is eating itself and
you
hid your bag!" Slowly I turn to face him. "If there's food in there, I want it!"

A mocking chuckle is his only response, earning a kick in his direction which he diverts. "Step aside, She-Ra, I got it." His hands cover my shoulders and he attempts to lead me a few feet away.

I shrug out of his hold. "I know how to move."

"Yes, you do," he speaks warm and softly into my neck, then returns to the door. "And the bag's right over there." He points, then tries the knob himself.