by Nicole Snow
I can’t stand sharing Libby Potter with anyone else right now.
Not when she’s sure as hell already mine.
It’s a tense drive back to her ranch, the air between us crackling with anticipation.
We don’t say a word and don’t even look at each other.
It’s like there’s a live wire stretched between us, passing this charge back and forth, building more intensity with every mile we cover.
It’s a miracle I don’t break the speed limit.
The moon’s high and bright by the time I pull into her drive and park outside the gate. She’s out of the truck before I can even come around to open the door for her, taking my hand, pulling me up the walk and toward the golden glow of the porch light.
Underneath that light she’s all honey and soft tones.
Libby stops and looks up at me with her hand resting on the door.
“You’re coming in...right?” she asks, nearly breathless.
“If you want me to,” I tease, smiling wickedly, drawn by a heat that puts the summer night to shame. “My stuff’s here, after all.”
Her lips twitch. “I did kinda bully you into staying here. But if you really want to go back to the inn...”
“Fuck no.”
Can’t even think about a hotel room again.
I sink down and capture Libby’s mouth with mine, pushing her back against the ranch house door, pinning her there with my hands on her shoulders.
She’s right there with me, sliding her hands over my arms, arching back, biting my already-sore mouth. Hot twinges echo in sharp, bucking jerks of my cock, impatient and hungry.
She’s wilderness. She’s wildfire. She’s everything that’s beautiful and bright.
I’ll let her fucking sear me to cinders if that’s what she needs tonight.
This woman kisses me with equal love and hate.
Like she wants to punish me with every extreme we pull from each other—a bruising battle of warring tongues and teeth.
We damn near assault each other with heat and hunger.
I can’t keep my hands off her, dropping them down from the door to clutch her thighs, her ass, pulling her into me hard.
I let her feel everything she does to me, everything she draws out, from the heat of my lust to the gut-deep groan spilling out as she bites down hard on my lower lip. I give it right back, snarling like a beast.
She holds me tight with one arm, the other fumbling behind her for the door.
Then we’re spilling inside, nearly tumbling to the floor when we don’t let go of each other for even half a second, practically devouring each other whole.
Somehow, I manage to kick the door shut.
Somehow, we get up to the loft without killing ourselves.
Somehow, we end up on the bed.
And somehow, she’s underneath me now, her body sinking into the bed, a perfect fit for mine.
I push myself up on my knees over her, struggling to catch my breath, drinking my fill of Libby Potter.
I fling my shirt off, dragging my undershirt up over my head.
She’s hot perfection under me.
All radiant color, gold and silver and sky, her hair tumbled across the sheets in coils of shining yellow sweetness and her eyes so darkly dilated they’re almost all pupil.
Her gaze smolders, taking me in with a hunger that makes me want to swallow her up.
The top of her dress has come down, baring the upper curves of her cleavage and those tan lines that make my cock insane, daring it to bust right out of my jeans.
I could fucking die.
I could die fucking her.
Especially when she reaches out, running her fingers over my stomach, following the light line of hair down to my navel and then lower, skimming over the waist of my jeans.
“You just window shopping?” she teases—but I can tell now it’s a defense mechanism, the way she’s blushing like she can’t handle how I’m looking at her. “Or are you gonna buy?”
“Trying not to get greedy, honey,” I tell her. “Believe me, I want everything.”
Yeah, I’m gonna take my sweet time.
Take it slow.
Draw it out.
Keep complete control and tease her until she’s buck wild and begging. And I’ll still be denying her just for the pleasure of making her writhe.
But the second I hook my fingers in the frilly edges of her top and tug it down, baring the fullness of those tits, I’m gone.
It’s like something possesses me.
Some monstrous, obsessive thing that just wants her.
I can’t help seizing her tits with my hands, spreading my fingers, feeling everything. Their shape, her hot, smooth skin, the lace edges of her bra, the pressure of her nipples.
My tongue screams with the need to taste her.
While she makes restless whimpers and squirms under me, I roll her tits against my palms, feeling the soft flesh yield, focusing on them with such wild abandon I could drown myself.
Libby makes a hot noise in the back of her throat, lifting her hips against me, bucking hard, and it’s not doing anything to help my raging erection.
She’s got her fingers knotted up in the sheets, dragging at them, clawing like the tiger she is.
“Holt!” My name sounds like music on her lips.
When I press her breasts together and dig my fingers in, tracing my thumbs over the peaks of her nipples, dragging the lace against her skin, she throws her head back.
A cry rips out, and she grinds her hips against mine so hard it’s a damn miracle I don’t come in my pants.
I’m so hard it hurts—the best kind of pain.
I was gonna torture her, but every second I’m not in her tortures me.
Still, I keep teasing her, slowly kneading her tits, stroking her nipples, watching her twist and gasp, her face so gorgeously flushed and hot, her lips parted real sweet for me.
“Enjoying yourself?” I growl, barely able to get the words out with the way every breath scorches me.
Her eyes open, and she gives me a fierce, glaring look.
“You assho—ah!”
Libby cries out sharply as I cut her off with a flick of my thumb against one nipple—and I do the other to match as she rewards me, snarling out “Holt!”
“Goddamn, girl,” I say. “Love the way my name sounds on your lips.”
I show her how much, bending down, brushing my mouth over her searching lips like I might kiss her deep. But my mouth goes lower, finding the upper curve of her breast.
I know what I’m after.
Those tan lines.
They’re a hot fucking target.
I taste her, sucking over her skin hard enough to leave little red marks, nibbling and teasing and dragging my tongue along her swells.
It’s like I can taste the difference between pale flesh and dark, like cinnamon and sugar.
Again and again, my tongue lashes, leaving my mark all over her skin.
Finally, I catch her jostled bra with my teeth.
Tug it down.
Claim one plush nipple with my mouth.
The sound she makes is wild, raw, and suddenly I’ve got nails in my back, on my neck, digging into my hair.
She grabs me hard and holds on, arching her back, practically pushing that honey-sweet flesh into my mouth.
This girl’s demanding, wanton, and I like it.
The more she begs, the more I give.
I lavish her nipple with heat, with friction, lapping and sucking and toying, gently rolling it in my teeth before drawing it between my lips in a soft pull. Never quite doing the same thing twice.
It’s fun keeping her on her toes, keeping her guessing, always reacting to every sensation like it’s this new and shocking thing.
The whole time she’s dragging fire down my scalp, my back, her nails digging in—and the pain just makes me harder.
I’m gonna burst.
I’m gonna fucking burst, and I’ve never had pr
oblems holding back.
Too bad I’ve never met a woman who turns me on like Libby.
If this is torture, I’m enjoying the suffering, shifting my hips in agony while my dick throbs lightning.
I ignore it, save for the willpower it takes to keep me contained while I tear her dress down around her hips and start finding out how she tastes everywhere else.
There’s not an inch of her I don’t mark with my tongue and my teeth.
The crests of her ribs, the dip of her waist, the swell of her belly, the indent of her navel.
Lower, dammit.
That last bit of dress skims down her body and I toss it away, leaving her in just that lacy little shell-pink bra yanked down below her breasts. Plus matching panties that barely cling to her by the thinnest of strings.
Those strings catch between my teeth.
Jerking my head sharply to the side, I snap them clean off her in a single movement.
No apologies.
I’m fucking carnivorous when I find out how wet the lace creased between her folds is.
When I also see how her hips melt into her thighs.
Those curves all flow together, and fuck, I’m out of control, biting her again, nipping that tender place that creases soft flesh down toward her pelvis, pushing her thighs open, grazing the very points of my canines down the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.
She’s never stopped crying out even once.
Like she can’t process how she’s even feeling, writhing and helpless in my hands, holding on for dear life.
It feels good to be able to do that to her, make her completely lose herself when she’s always trying so hard to keep control.
I know how to break her chain.
I pause, waiting just long enough for her to come down enough to look me in the eye.
Then I smile slowly, dip my head, and let my tongue do the talking.
I flick it against her clit, finding that little bead of flesh against the peak of her folds. First teasing it lightly, then pressing the tip of my tongue to it and working it in a slow, deliberate circle.
It’s like someone put fire to dynamite.
Her legs fold around my shoulders, her voice rising to the rafters, back arching to thrust those beautiful tits in the air, pink nipples jutting out hard.
All while her nails sink into my shoulders.
It just turns me on more, like the scent of the hunt, salty-hot and as delicious as her taste.
She’s slick and glistening. So wet, pooling and threading on my fingers as I stroke them over her folds just to feel her clench.
Just to hear her curse and make more of those ruined sounds.
It’s fucking fascinating ravishing this woman.
And I take my time learning her, dragging my lips against her clit, against her folds, delving my tongue inside her.
I trace her from the inside out, always coming back to her clit. Drawing it into my mouth, I suck ever so gently at the tender, sensitive flesh when she least expects it, playing her body just to heighten her high.
Rhythm does the job.
Letting her get used to soft, gentle strokes, something melting and slow and easy...
...right before I shock her with the raw intensity of sucking lips and the subtle threat of teeth and a deep, deep thrust inside her.
Shit, I could get addicted to this woman.
To the taste of her, the sight of her, the smell of her.
Everything.
If this is foreplay, I damn well can’t wait to claim her pussy, too.
Still, I take my time, lingering until she’s crying out like it hurts, tasting her in swirls of my tongue until she’s drenched, listening as she calls my name over and over again in complete and utter desperation.
Holt.
Holt.
HOLT!
Hell, yeah.
There’s something special about seeing a woman as controlled as Libby completely undone.
She digs her heels into my back, her entire body convulsing with an attempt at restraint, slim limbs tensed and straining and so gorgeously graceful.
That’s when I know she’s ready.
I tease her one last time with the flat of my tongue over her clit before pushing myself up to look down at her. She’s flushed and gorgeous, sprawled under me in a mess of passion.
“Ready, honey?” I whisper.
Her eyes flutter open, blue whirlpools eager to consume me.
“I’m gonna hate you for this in the morning,” she says, her voice so throaty, so raw, and she half-smiles as she trails her fingers down my throat, right over my beating pulse. “So you better make it good.”
I grin.
Then I lean down to kiss her, sealing my mouth over hers and giving her a damn good reason to hate me for every slow, lingering kiss.
Libby moans, sliding her body against mine.
I worship her mouth, stroking my hands up her arms, caressing until I find her hands, lace our fingers together, and hold on tight.
After a moment, I reluctantly pull one hand away, moving it between us to find my jeans and drag them open. I bare myself with a snarl as some of the brutal pressure releases.
My cock practically burns my palm, agonizing to the touch, so close to driving me utterly insane that I can’t stand the contact but crave more.
I’m on the prowl with every kiss.
I spread her thighs wider.
My cockhead rubs against her folds. Groaning in the back of my throat, my breath hitches while she tenses and shudders.
The noises coming out of her.
Fucking hell.
They’re sounds that climb into high, drawn-out cries as I rock my hips forward, pushing into her softness, her heat, and sink in deep.
Shit!
She’s so wet for me, so tight, so damn giving.
It’s incredible burying myself to the hilt in this slick, pink flesh that parts for me so smoothly, so sweetly, wrapping around me in this layer of stroking softness.
I shudder, my fingers tightening against hers, my kiss plunging deeper when I need to have all of her, every depth branded with my touch.
We’re perfect together.
Tangled up like this, flesh on flesh in a layer of misted sweat.
I officially can’t hold back any longer.
Growling like thunder, I arch my back and rock my hips, throwing myself into the sweet friction of her body.
Every last second of claiming her feels better than the last.
From the way she tightens around me, gasping frantically and biting at my mouth, to the wonderful sexy desperation shining in her eyes.
It’s slow, at first, but there’s honestly no such thing as slow with Libby.
Not when she’s holding on so tight, her thighs pinching my hips, her body convulsing around me so hot, so tight, that she brings me to a frenzy.
Biting her back, snaring my hand in her hair, I drag her head back and open her mouth to me more, snapping my hips hard.
I drive into her just to feel her around me.
Just to make her arch and jerk and shudder.
Just to feel that fire of her nails playing down my back until she tears my skin.
I don’t fucking care.
This burn, inside and out, is everything I need.
She’s everything I need, and she’s got me in rut like an animal.
We fuck like it’s a fight to the death, passion and combat inextricable.
I’m losing my mind.
She wrecks me as I plunder her with every thrust, and soon we’re a mess of snarls and writhing and hot tandem rhythm.
Faster, faster, until I’m not even sure if I’m pushing her or she’s pushing me.
Only that we’re speeding toward something that could split me in two.
Destroy me and remake me anew.
My mind goes blank until there’s nothing but pleasure.
Her nails in my flesh, her teeth savaging my lower lip, the sound of her voice rising as she c
omes on my dick for the third time, the crushing sweet pressure of her body locked around mine.
“Come for me, honey. Come with me!” I snarl, almost out of time.
A second later, I’m gone.
My cock balloons. An electric charge goes off in my spine, ripping up my body.
Then I’m all roar, driving in deep, balls pressed against her ass and wringing every last drop of me into her.
We never calmed down long enough to even say a word about protection, but when I’m spilling every bit of myself deep inside her sweet cunt, I can’t be fucked to care.
“Holt!”
Last thing I hear before she loses herself again, joining my ecstasy, burning me up with her bright-blue witchfire.
I can’t take my eyes off her even as my vision blurs.
My cock jerks in harder bursts, straining against her clutching walls.
She’s torn me to pieces, and I don’t care.
After having her once, I’ll never be the same.
And I don’t know if I can survive without having Liberty Potter on demand.
15
A Little Horseplay (Libby)
So this is what it feels like to be one of Holt’s conquests?
Can’t say I mind it too much.
Sure, I expected to feel conquered, ravaged, even a little sore. And there’s all of that in spades, but there’s something I don’t expect, too.
I actually feel...
Cherished.
If this is how he made every woman he ever slept with feel?
No wonder they hated his freaking guts when it turned out to be a charming lie.
He sprawls in the bed next to me, watching me silently, skin starkly tanned against the white pillowcase. The shadows make those whiskey eyes glow with their own light.
He’s pure sin stretched out in my bed like this, all hard muscle so gorgeous it’s obscene.
He keeps those rough fingers buried in my hair like it’s some kinda fix for him.
Even after it’s over I can’t quite come down. Every inch of me is aware of him.
More than I want to be.
For all I know, this is just another of his one-night things.
Maybe I just played right into his hands.
Believed all the sweet things men say to get a girl in bed, when they don’t mean a single word.
“You’re giving me a funny look,” he says. His lips quirk, his gaze drifting over my face.
