Burn For You (Outback Skies Book 3)

by Lexxie Couper

  She drew closer to him. Close enough their bellies touched.

  “I’m not kissing that guy, Evan. I’m kissing this new guy I only just met yesterday. I like him more, even if he doesn’t think it’s possible.”

  He drew in another breath, this one not as shaky and so much deeper. His gaze searched hers. His fingers circled her wrists, grip loose.

  “It’s not…” He shook his head. “I can’t…”

  Before he could say anything else, she brushed her lips to his again.

  The urge to deepen the kiss flooded her body in a powerful wave of heat and need. To take possession of his mouth in the way he had hers back on the helipad. She could. He wouldn’t deny her. His breath burst from his nostrils in ragged exhalations, fanning her top lip.

  She could feel the potent desire and need in him in the way he still held her wrists, in the way his stomach hitched as their breaths mingled. In the way his groin nudged hers with an undeniable spasm as she touched the tip of her tongue to his bottom lip.

  She could seek out his tongue with hers and he would surrender to her.

  But she needed him to surrender to himself.

  He had to accept her desire for him. He had to believe in it.

  And yet his lips remained unresponsive.

  Dismay shot through her. A churning weight knotted in her belly. She drew back slightly, preparing herself for the empty loss of his lips on hers.

  Preparing herself to walk away from him.

  His grip on her wrists tightened. Grew painful.

  And then, with a low, raw groan, he hauled her to his body and plundered her mouth with his tongue.

  She moaned into the possession, instantly on fire with an elemental desire beyond any she’d experienced. This kiss was powerful, demanding, hungry, desperate, frustrated, ravenous and sorrowful all at once.

  It undid her.

  Just a kiss.

  She broke her wrists free of his hands and cupped his face for fear he’d tear away from her.

  He didn’t. He deepened the kiss even as he captured her right hand, removed it from his jaw and yanked it behind her back.

  He ground his cock to the curve of her sex. It was hard and thick and impossible to ignore.

  She didn’t want to ignore it. She wanted to touch it. Feel it. Impale herself on it.

  Rolling her hips, she stroked its turgid jeans-trapped length with her soft flesh, cursing their items of clothing separating skin-to-skin contact.

  He growled into her mouth. Caught her bottom lip with his teeth. Sucked on the wound and then rained a slew of hot kisses over her throat, her collarbones.

  Her knees trembled. Her belly clenched. Her pussy fluttered. Fluttered. When had it last done that? Not with just-harmless-flirting Richard, that was for certain. Not with any of the guys she dated after him.

  In fact, the last time her pussy had behaved the way it was now, contracting and constricting around a cock not there, had been on the helipad over twelve hours ago, when Evan had perched her on the bull bar of the Land Cruiser and almost kissed her to the brink of an orgasm.

  And the time before that had been the last time she’d seen Evan while he and Tracey had still been married, when she’d still been Tracey’s friend and the three of them had gone swimming at Manly Beach.

  He’d been the epitome of physical excellence back then.

  But now…now he was more.

  Meeting his passion with equal hunger, she tangled her hand in his hair and lashed her tongue over his. His grip on her wrist behind her back tightened. His cock pulsed against her mons.

  When he dragged his lips down over her chin, when he smoothed his free hand up her ribcage to palm her breast through the silk of her shirt, it was all she could do to not melt into a puddle of pleasure.

  “Oh G-God…oh…f-fuck…Ev-Evan…that’s…that’s so…” The rest of her exclamation dissolved into a choppy groan as he dragged his thumb over the pebbled tip of her breast. For a woman known in the television news world as being more articulate than anyone else, she was having great difficulty speaking.

  She pushed her hips harder to his, the steel pressure of his erection flooding her core with impatient heat.

  He nipped at the length of her neck. Sucked on the sensitive skin at the base of her throat, just above her collarbone. She whimpered, and then moaned louder when he pinched her nipple through her shirt and bra.

  Her whole body thrummed with need.

  Need he’d created in her. Need he was going to tend to. Now.

  Yanking her wrist free of his grip, she buried her hands in his hair—knocking his cap from his head as she did so—and jerked his face up to hers. She fixed her stare on his, not remotely trying to hide how affected she was by their kiss. Nor how much she wanted him.

  “Fuck me, Evan,” she demanded, grinding the curve of her sex to the engorged pole of his cock. “I want you inside me.”

  His nostrils flared. “Jenna. I—”

  She bunched her fists tighter in his hair. Shook her head. “For six years, I fantasied about making love to you. Do you really think I care about anything at this point in time but having you inside me? Do you think I’m so shallow a few scars are going to turn me off?”

  A dark fire danced in his eyes. His jaw bunched.

  She drew closer to him, wishing to hell the light was on or the moon was full. She needed him to see the truth in her face as well as hear it in her voice. “I. Want. You,” she said, holding his stare. “You.”

  He grew motionless. The muscles in his jaw knotted again. She saw his Adam’s apple slide up and down the strong column of his throat and then, before she could register what he was doing, he slammed her to the wall.

  Pinned her there with his hips, his thighs, and ravished her mouth.

  She gave herself over to the anger of his kiss. He was angry, but with whom she didn’t know. Himself? Tracey? Her?

  It didn’t matter. Not in that second.

  In that second, what mattered was Evan was surrendering to the need inside him. His need for her.

  She clung to his shoulders, feasting on his lips as much as he did hers. When she smoothed her hands up his neck to cup his jaw, he growled into her mouth.

  Hard fingers wrapped her right wrist, yanking her hand from the left side of his face. He rammed her wrist to the wall beside her head, his kiss growing hungrier.

  He rubbed his cock against the curve of her sex in powerful strokes that sent her blood rushing straight to her clit, her pussy lips.

  She fisted her left hand in his hair. Clung to him as he dry-humped her against the wall. With every thrust, her body craved him more. Her juices turned the crotch of her G-string wet. She cursed her decision to change into a pantsuit to come see him. She’d been determined to wow him with her professionalism. If she’d kept to the pencil skirts she normally favoured, like the one she’d been wearing when she’d run after him on the helipad, he’d be able to penetrate her quicker.

  Now, time would be lost with something as inconvenient as stripping her pants from her legs. Damn it.

  He explored her chin and throat and collarbone with his lips again. Held her right wrist to the wall, preventing her touching him as he sucked on the base of her neck.

  She gasped, driving her shoulder blades to the wall behind her as she ground her pussy harder to his groin. “Oh yeah…”

  She’d have a hell of a time hiding the love bite during her next report but didn’t give a rat’s arse. So what if she wore a scarf?

  He growled against her flesh again, nipped at her skin with his teeth before scoring a hot line of kisses over her chest to capture her nipple through her shirt.

  He sucked. Hard.

  Pleasure and pain sliced through her from her breast down to the junction of her thighs. “God, yes! Again.”

  He complied, this time kneading her breasts as he did so.

  She rolled her head against the wall, eyes closed. Her pussy throbbed. Her clit ached. “Again,” she begg
ed.

  Once more, Evan suckled on her flesh through her shirt.

  A squirming tension bloomed deep in Jenna’s core. She whimpered with the need to feel his cock part her folds, to have him buried inside her. “Evan…” she moaned. “Please…make me come…”

  Without a word, he stepped away from her.

  She cried out in protest. And then sucked in a ragged pant as he reached for the door—still open, she realized—and shut it.

  What little moonlight there’d been spilling through the open doorway vanished. Darkness wrapped around them both.

  Heart wild, breath ragged, she checked the wall beside the door for a light switch. Saw one. Reached for it and let out a gasp when Evan snared her wrist, stilling her hand.

  She could barely see him. Just a hint of his shape, a glint of light reflecting in his eyes. “Evan, let me see—”

  He silenced her by tearing her shirt open.

  She squealed, the shocked sound turning to a cry of rapture as he hauled her to his body and reclaimed the side of her neck with his mouth.

  Waves of wanton pleasure rushed over her. She rolled her head, the fierce pressure on her skin detonating liquid heat in her sex. Oh God, it felt so good. So good.

  “Evan,” she moaned, rubbing the curve of her sex to his trapped erection.

  He released her hand, hooked his fingers beneath the lacy edge of her bra and tugged the flimsy cups from her breasts.

  “Feels…” she rasped, incapable of anything else. Her vast vocabulary, her sophisticated sentence structure? Shot to hell by his mastery of her pleasure. “So good…please…don’t stop…”

  He didn’t. With a raw growl she felt all the way to her soul, he tore the zippered fly of her pants open and slipped his hands between the crisp linen and her hips. He snagged the side strips of her G-string and shoved both the tailored pants and lacy undergarment down her legs.

  She couldn’t stop her excited cry.

  A cry that turned to a hoarse moan as he roughly palmed her thighs and stabbed at her pussy with his tongue.

  Fresh pleasure—tight and wicked and somehow exhilarating—flooded through her. “Oh God, Evan. You…have no idea…how much…you…”

  As her breathless pants burst from her lips, he moved.

  Removed her pants from around her ankles.

  Rose to his feet and walked her backward through his dark house.

  She didn’t fight him.

  Didn’t protest or try to navigate the unfamiliar territory herself.

  She allowed him to direct her through the deep shadows. Trusted him to do so.

  It wasn’t until she heard the distinct click-click of her stiletto heels on tile flooring she realized he’d lead her to the kitchen.

  Her butt bumped something hard and immobile—her brain told her it was the kitchen counter—a second before Evan circled her waist with his strong hands and lifted her feet from the floor.

  He perched her on the edge of the counter, gripped her hips with his hands and yanked her spread pussy hard to his groin.

  She whimpered her approval even as she buried her hands in his hair.

  Once again, he captured her right hand and removed it from the left side of his head. He held it to her side as he rolled his cock against her sodden folds.

  “Oh God, yes,” she groaned, and it was a groan in every sense of the word—a low, deep sound uttered in pain and desire. She was in pain. She wanted Evan’s cock inside her, not just rubbing at her labia. She desired him more than she believed possible and was in pain because of it. Every touch of his denim-clad erection was torturous pleasure and exquisite agony.

  “Oh God…” she repeated. “Evan…”

  With a shaky breath, he ran his hand over her hip, her ribcage and up to her breasts. Shards of delicious heat sank into her belly. Her pussy contracted. She arched into his touch, another groan slipping from her.

  “Your breasts are gorgeous, Jenna.” He dragged his thumb over her nipple, his voice a husky caress of her senses.

  She whimpered. “Suck it, Evan. Please?”

  “Hard?” He circled the puckered nub of her nipple with his thumb. His cock pulsed against her folds.

  “Hard. So fucking hard I come.”

  The command burst from her, raw craving in the words. She’d never spoken with such wanton crudity before. But then she’d never been with Evan before, and with Evan she seemed to have no filter…or barriers.

  Surprisingly, a low chuckle danced on the shadows. “Done.”

  He closed his lips around her nipple before her sight could register he’d moved in the kitchen’s darkness.

  “Oh, fuck, yes!” she cried out, slamming her pussy to his erection.

  He pressed his palm to her back, supporting her weight as he drew deeply on her flesh.

  Sensation ripped through her, stealing her breath and clearing her mind of all but him. Evan.

  He worshipped her breast with his mouth, teasing her nipple with his tongue, his teeth. When she writhed on the counter, the mounting tension in her core close to eruption, he switched to her other breast.

  Fresh heat flooded her sex. Fresh profanity burst from her lips. Who knew she could swear so much?

  “E-Evan…” she rasped, wriggling her wrist free of his grip to drag her fingers through his hair. She needed to touch him. With both hands. This close to the edge of an orgasm, she needed to touch him, hold him. “I th-think…I’m going to…to…”

  He snared her wrist again, removing it from the left side of his head even as he continued to feast on her breast.

  She arched her spine, the soles of her feet tingling. She was going to come. She really was. Oh God, she was going to come.

  She was going to—

  A shudder rocked her whole body, a second before a sublime throbbing claimed her sex. The inner walls of her pussy clenched. “Oh God, oh…oh…oh…God, Evan!”

  He didn’t stop. Instead, he returned his mouth to her other nipple and sank two fingers past her sodden folds, scissored them inside her, rolling his thumb over her clit as he did so.

  “Oh fuck!” Jenna yelped, concentrated pleasure shearing through her at the unexpected invasion. The constricting pulse of her orgasm intensified, grew more powerful. Building to an explosive level again.

  Oh God, was she having her first multiple orgasm? Was she?

  “I think I’m…oh, Evan, I think I’m…”

  Stroking her G-spot with his fingers, Evan thumbed her clit, and another climax rocked her entire body.

  “Oh God! I’m coming again!” she cried out, head thrown back, heels digging into the small of his back. “I’m coming a—”

  He pulled his hand from between her thighs and replaced his thumb on her clit with his tongue, flicked at it with wild frenzy before he sucked the tiny numb past his lips.

  Jenna’s world shattered.

  Her third orgasm tore her apart with waves of exquisite pressure and pulsing tension.

  She rode those waves, each one making her moan louder. Or maybe her moans were because Evan continued to lap at her pussy, continued to worship her clit with his tongue?

  He released her wrist in favour of her thighs and smoothed his palms over each one, parting her folds farther for his tongue with gentle tugs of his thumbs.

  She whimpered his name, shaking her head as the pleasure he’d wrought upon her became too much. Too much. She tangled her fingers in his hair. Pulled his head upwards.

  With a chuckled growl, he dragged his tongue over her clit, up to her belly button, and then to her solar plexus. From her solar plexus to her left nipple. From her nipple to her lips.

  He plundered her mouth with his, feeding her the musky taste of her cream as his jeans-encased erection rubbed at her sensitive folds once more.

  A full circle of mind-blowing pleasure.

  It wasn’t until he wrapped her wrists in a loose grip and gently removed her hands from his hair that she realized he’d done it again. He’d stopped her touching th
e left side of his body.

  Not just that, Jenna. He just made you come three times in the dark. You just experienced your first multiple orgasm and you can’t even see him. Not clearly. And he’s still covered from neck to toe.

  Deepening their kiss, she drew him closer to her body with her heels and reached for the top button of his shirt.

  He pulled away.

  In one jolting step, he pulled away. Disengaged from the embrace of her legs, releasing her wrists as he did so.

  Jenna’s heart smashed into her throat. The fading pulses of her orgasm were crushed by the surprise knotting her tummy. She frowned at him, cursing the lack of light. “Hey.” She slid her backside from the counter and walked towards him, forcing her voice to sound humoured. “I think it’s only fair you let me return the favour, don’t you?”

  What little light there was in the kitchen played with his form. She could make out his shaking head. Could see him lift his hands to his hair. But what was in his eyes? On his face? She had no clue.

  “I think you need to go, Jenna.”

  The calm request chilled the remaining glow of her orgasms. She blanched. “I’m sorry?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned away from her.

  “No.” Shaking her head, she stormed through the darkness to the kitchen entryway. There had to be a light switch on the wall somewhere.

  “Jenna.” Torment and frustration cut the syllables of her name. “You need to—”

  Her fingers struck the tiny plastic toggle she was looking for and, with a sense of anger and triumph, she flooded the kitchen with warm light.

  “Fuck,” he growled behind her.

  She spun on her heel and fixed him with a steady glare.

  It occurred to her she was damn near naked, that she should probably try and cover her exposed breasts and sex, but she was too exasperated. Too angry.

  Evan met her glare from beside the counter. She couldn’t help but notice he was standing side-on, showing her only the right side of his body and hardly any of the left side of his face.

  “Leave?” she finished his ludicrous statement for him. “Is that what you were going to say? ‘Jenna, you need to go away and let me be alone and shut away from any chance of any one actually seeing me or getting close to me or accepting me for who I am?’”