Undeniable (16 page)

He loved that she was.
Loved it.
He ran the backs of his fingers over her mound, feeling the pillows of her lips and her hardened clit and the slit that his nose told him was ready for his meat. What the hell made him think he needed a date when he had this?

Exhaustion had to be turning him mad. His cock, her cunt, and his world was complete. And if he kept telling himself that, if he kept the distance between them she said she wanted, he might just convince himself it was true.

He slipped his index fingers beneath the leg of her panties and tested his theory, finding the seam of her bare pussy slick with her lube. Smiling, he leaned forward and opened his mouth, breathing hot air against her. She moaned, whipped off her shirt, and speared her fingers into his hair. Then she spread her legs.

Oh, yeah. She smelled good. Hot and sea-salty and horny, just the way he liked her. His cock jumped, brushing her inner knee and causing them both to pull in a sharp breath. He’d had enough with waiting.

He stood up, slowly sliding his body along hers, the head of his cock leaving a trail of pre-cum from her panties over her belly where he nestled himself against her. Then he grabbed her to him, pivoted, and tumbled them both to the couch. He landed on his back, then rolled over, putting her beneath him.

E
YES CLOSED, AT
Dax’s urging Arwen lifted her hips. He pulled down her panties and tossed them to the floor. She was naked but
he still wore his socks, and that had her grinning. It was silly and she didn’t know why, really, except that it made him real and human, and she needed that right now.

Needed to know she wasn’t the only one capable of falling.

Neck arched, she reached behind her, holding on to the arm of the couch as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, bent, and settled his lips between her belly button and the strip of her pubic hair. He hummed against her, kissed, bit, licked, worked his way lower and finally,
finally
sucked her clit into his mouth.

Lord, his tongue. He used the tip like a finger, circling the bud of nerves. He used it like a cock, sliding along the sides and beneath, pushing up until she whimpered and squirmed. He moved down, licking his way through her folds, teasing the rim of her entrance, turning his face to kiss the crevice between her pussy and her thigh.

That wasn’t where she wanted him, and she used her knee to urge his head back.

He laughed against her, his breath tickling. “Is this the sex you were talking about?”

“It’s a start.” Already, she wanted to come. But even more than that, she wanted the build-up, the pleasure that came frighteningly close to pain. “You’re just drifting a bit off course.”

“Not drifting. Searching,” he said, using that tongue to draw a line along the seam of her pussy’s lips, flicking at her clit, piercing her before withdrawing with a hard downward stroke.

She gasped, aching, opened her eyes. “Searching for what?”

“Hot spots. Sweet spots.”

“I’m happy to point them out.”

“Hell, where’s the fun in that?” He slid her legs from his shoulders and planted his hands on her thighs. He spread her wide, took her in with a hungry, “Mmm-mmm-mmm.”

The grin on his face, all devouring, dominant male, sent a shot
of heat to her core, and reckless need consumed her. She was his, completely, and helpless to understand why.

What she did know was that this was not,
not
, how to go about getting him out of her system for good.

Strange she had to remind herself of that. “You’ll never find them if you’re only using your eyes.”

“My eyes are having a very good time here.”

“My pussy would like some of that, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and this time he pushed his tongue deep inside her, used it like a cock to fuck her, in and out, in and out, barely giving her a chance to lose herself in the sensation before abandoning her again.

But even as she growled, he returned his mouth to her clit, inserting a finger into her cunt, adding a second, stroking her inner walls while tonguing her to madness. He sucked at her plump flesh. He caught her clit with his teeth and tugged. He crooked his finger and found the spot she’d been waiting for him to hit.

She arched into his touch, wanting more of it, wanting it harder, wanting… She didn’t know what, but he seemed to be holding something back.

Did he not want this? Was he not having fun? “Dax?”

He removed his fingers, kissed his way from her clit to her ass, from thigh to thigh, from her belly to the hollow of her throat. Then he rose up over her, his hands on either side of her head, and stared down. “Arwen?”

She looped her legs around him, hooked her heels in the small of his back. “Where are you?”

He prodded her with his cock. “Right here.”

“Your body, yeah, but where’s your head?”

“A second ago it was between your legs.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, holding his gaze.

Why was she letting his distance be an issue when his distance fit
perfectly into her plans? Except she hadn’t anticipated the worry tangling her up at seeing his smile stop short of his eyes. She wanted him with her every moment, not halfheartedly fulfilling his side of this ridiculous bargain they’d made.

Though when his prodding became more insistent, and he realigned his hips and wet himself with her moisture, her worry vanished. How could she think of anything but his body driving into hers, filling hers, lifting hers off the cushions with the force of his thrusts? This was all she wanted.

Wasn’t it?

Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she dug her fingers into the balls of his shoulders and held on as he rode her, bucking against him and using her heels on his ass to urge him deeper. He growled at her ear, dropped to his elbows, and threaded his fingers into her hair.

And he talked to her, words that made no sense, dirty words, words that were more noise than anything, that rolled up from his gut with a stirring, stunning vibration. She listened, unable to say anything, barely able to breathe, yet so hindered by her own silence she had to let go.

Panting, whimpering, she twisted beneath him, finding the hard base of his cock and grinding her clit against him, listening all the while and overwhelmed—by the sounds, the sensations, what she knew were going to be huge sweeping complications making a mess of her life.

He pushed his thighs higher, climbed up her body. She kissed his chest, nuzzling his pectorals and searching out his nipple with her teeth. She latched on but didn’t bite, sucking and tonguing instead, and drawing a visceral grunt from his throat.

“You keep that up and I’m going to be done here.”

And suddenly she wanted to make that happen, to give him whatever he needed to lose control. To show him his dating was
nothing compared to her sex, that no one could do for him what she could. To make sure he would remember her and think about her the way she’d never forgotten him.

Rocking her hips upward, she drew her knees along his sides, reaching one hand between their bodies. She lingered at her clit, shuddering at the strum of nerves, then slipped lower, fingering herself while he fucked her.

He laughed, a wicked, taunting burst, and then he stopped, biting off a sharp
fuck
because she’d caught the base of his shaft in the ring of her fingers and squeezed. She held him, released him, slid to his head as he pulled out of her cunt and thumbed the underside seam. This time his
fuck
came out on a growl, and that’s when she went after his balls.

She cupped and released, rolled his nuts in her palm, then rubbed the extension of his erection that ran to his anus. At that, he leaned to the side to dislodge her, grasping her hand with his. But she knew what she was doing and she guided their fingers to the place where their bodies were joined.

She looked at him, watching the shift in his expression as she touched him, as he touched her, as their hands became as much a part of the act as her pussy and his cock.

Moisture slicked the way for their play. She laced her fingers with his, held his shaft, released it, ran his knuckles through her folds as he slowly moved his hips. Up and down, his cock entering her, pulling out, the ridge of the head caught by their hands, two of their fingers slipping inside to stroke and stir her arousal further.

Through it all she held his gaze, watched sweat pop on his brow, saw the muscles in his jaw jump as he ground down. His nostrils flared. His lashes swept like brushes as he blinked in slow motion.

And finally he asked her, his voice a deep rutting groan, “Is this the sex you wanted?”

She didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t. Her body burned and ached, and she didn’t want to lose this spot when she was so
so
close to coming. But neither did she want to see that look come back to his eyes, the one he’d finally let go of. The one that frightened her with its distance, when distance was the goal.

So she told him the truth. “I wanted you.”

He barked out a laugh, gave a shake of his head. “If you only knew.”

But that was all he said. He broke their gaze, broke her hold on his hand, tucked his face next to hers and picked up speed, pounding her as if exorcising demons.

She held on because it was all she could do. He drove her up the couch until her head bounced off the arm, and she moved one hand to the floor to brace herself. The other she hooked around his neck, and this time she was the one whispering to him.

She doubted he was listening, or that he processed the words if he heard them. And that was okay. The words were as much for herself.
It’s going to be okay. Everything’s fine. This is good. We’re good. We’re so, so good.

Then she stopped, gasped, held her breath and let her orgasm build in a crushing mindless rush. She knew he came with her. He lifted his head, straining, and the hot sticky spill of his semen sent her over the edge. Her head spun endlessly. Darkness rose up to devour her.

No man had ever given her this. No man had ever come close. She feared looking too closely at why Dax Campbell was able to take her this high, but she feared even more discovering why he’d willingly made the journey with her.

D
ARCY WAS STANDING
on her tiptoes on the kitchen counter, reaching into the back corner of one of the overstuffed cupboards’ top shelves, when a knock sounded on the back door. Since when did anyone paying a visit to the ranch knock without sticking their head in the door and hollering?

She wasn’t about to get down and answer it, and risk knocking the stacks of china at her feet to the floor. She was fairly sure she had a complete—and unused—place setting for eight, and from the look of the pattern and the stamp on the bottom, one that might fetch a pretty penny from a collector.

“Come in,” she called over her shoulder, looking for chips or cracks or scraped paint on the sugar bowl she held and finding none. Nice. Real nice.

The door opened, the creaking screen followed. “It’s me, Josh.”

Aw, hell. Not now. She caught the cupboard’s door to keep
from tumbling, her heart pounding as she glanced to the maze she’d created with the dishes—and which she now had to step out of without looking like a lumbering cow.

“You need some help?”

Yes, please sweep me up in your arms and carry me away.
Snort.

“No, I’m fine.” She backed up on the balls of her feet to the counter’s edge, held the cupboard’s center brace for balance, and moved first one foot then the other to the chair she’d used as a stool. Only after she was safely in the seat did she turn to face him, brushing her hair from her eyes and wishing she’d put on more makeup than lip balm and a quick swipe of mascara.

He looked good. He always looked good. Tall and rangy and comfortable in his skin, his jeans laundered and creased, his boots shined, his yoked shirt—this one long-sleeved and khaki—starched to a crisp. She wondered what he’d look like dirty, all messed up and sweaty and wrinkled after a day on horseback riding herd.

Then she wondered what he’d look like naked. “See? No broken bones, no broken dishes.”

He gave a single nod. “You haven’t made it to the floor yet.”

Ah, that. She hopped down, saying a tiny prayer of thanks when she landed gracefully, and adding a flair of a curtsy for fun. “Better?”

He took off his hat, hooked it on the back of a chair. “I can breathe now, yeah.”

Something wild and inappropriate fluttered at the base of her throat, and she told herself it meant nothing, the flutter, his words, but couldn’t shake the lie. “What are you doing here?”

He held up her key ring, the one she’d last seen on her desk at work before The Campbell’s words had sent her walking. “I brought your car.”

Of course,
she thought, and swallowed. It had been five days since she’d last seen him. Could she be anymore ridiculously self-centered, taking advantage of his generosity
and
losing track of time? “I’m sorry. I can’t believe you had to come after your truck.”

“I didn’t come after my truck.”

“Oh?”

“I came to see you.”

Oh. Well. She wasn’t sure what to think about that. Josh Lasko had never sought her out before. And though he’d caused her a lot of breathing trouble, she wondered if this was a first for him. If slamming into him in front of Nathan’s had set something in motion, like atoms colliding, or dominoes falling.

Silly thoughts. Silly woman. “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? Coffee?”

“You don’t have to wait on me, Darcy,” he said, his hands at his hips. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”

“I’m not waiting on you, and you’re not interrupting.” She’d lived with Patricia Campbell too long not to play the hostess, even in a house that wasn’t her own. And it gave her something to do besides avoid his too-sharp gaze. “I’ve been at this awhile and could use a break myself.”

“I’d take a cup of joe, then, if it’s not any trouble.”

If she had to fly to Indonesia and pick the beans herself, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all. She gestured for him to sit. “Not a bit. I’ll put on a pot. Won’t be but a few.”