Her Passionate Need

by Vonna Harper

  "No more jeans," he whispered. "How does that feel?"

  "Wonderful."

  "So does what you're doing. But that's not what I want—now."

  What was he talking about? When he rolled her panties off her, she nodded her approval. Then he stood and did the same with his briefs, and she nodded at that too. They still wore their shirts as concession to the cold.

  She'd heard that there were a million—well, a lot—of ways to have sex. Her imagination didn't go far enough; either that or concentrating on anything was beyond her.

  Belatedly she realized he was still standing, his head turned to the side. "What is it?"

  "Nothing. I just wanted to make sure. . ."

  "Of what?"

  "That we didn't have to worry. Tonight."

  But in the morning, that would change. "We'll deal with that then," she told him and reached out her arms toward him.

  "We'll have to." He slowly sank to his knees between her spread legs.

  She waited for him to touch her pussy and take her away from thought. Instead, he sighed. "It's never going to go away," he whispered.

  "What isn't?" He was scaring her.

  "Until we know everything, it's going to be between us."

  "Yes, it is." She couldn't summon the strength to move.

  "I hate it like that."

  "So do I." From what she could tell, his erection was still there, and yet he seemed to have become less. . .less substantial. The forbidden topic had broken out of its cage. "I wish. . ."

  "What do you wish?"

  "That I'd never met you."

  He rocked away from her. His eyes seemed to darken and sink deeper into their sockets; she had no doubt that she'd hurt him. She lifted her too-heavy hands and laid them on his thighs. "I had to say it," she continued. "Because it's the truth. But we did meet, and I can no longer hide."

  "That's how it feels to you? As if I've forced you—"

  "No! It's not your doing. Not really. I-I'd—I can't blame you."

  "Then who?"

  "No one!" she snapped. "All right, no one! Someone killed Aaron. You couldn't face yourself if you didn't commit to finding out who." This conversation was exhausting her—and, she feared—driving a wedge back between them. Tonight, a pocket of time untouched by reality, belonged to them. "Devin, right now I only want one thing from you."

  Chapter 14

  His hands were on her calves, easing upward to her knees, pressing down lightly as if checking their strength, then upward again, feathering out to enslave her thighs. She held her breath and went with his nails, fingertips, palms.

  She'd caught fire and yet she wasn't afraid. Desperate to quiet his own questions about the danger in what they were doing, she fastened her fingers around his wrists. He didn't seem to notice; maybe he was so intent on her that he'd forgotten his own needs.

  No, she amended when he leaned down so his strong-as-steel cock brushed the inside of her knee. That length of iron flesh left no doubt of his arousal. She felt herself turning into him, then concentrated on trying to trap his penis between her knees.

  "No," he whispered. "I'm not ready for that."

  "You—you feel ready to me."

  He sighed and began tiptoeing his fingers over and then inside her thighs. With each touch he stole a little more of her muscle.

  "For sex I am," he told her. "But having you take me in your hands the way you did earlier—that's what I don't want to happen again."

  "You didn't like it?" She had to arch her neck to get enough oxygen into her lungs.

  "I felt. . .like a prisoner."

  So she wasn't the only one overwhelmed by what was happening between them. Maybe she could tell him that; he'd be equally honest, and they'd break past whatever barriers stood between them. They'd do more than have sex. They could become lovers.

  Lovers? The word was electric with commitment. No! She wasn't ready for that.

  What was the last thing he'd said? Something about feeling as if she'd imprisoned him. That's exactly how she felt now. And yet she couldn't fathom, couldn't handle anything else. Letting her body speak for her, she spread her legs and opened herself fully to him. He leaned close and breathed his warm breath over her sensitive inner thighs. She twitched, started to close her legs to protect herself from a more sensual assault, then stopped. She'd never wanted anything more than to offer herself up to this man.

  Play me. Dance with my clit. Turn me into your guitar.

  This was her, Ana Briggs, woman. No longer her parents' good little girl, her husband's dutiful wife. She felt, not shy or uncertain, but joyful. Something broke open inside her and burst free.

  "Look at me," she said. "My God, look at me."

  "I am," he whispered. "Believe me, I am. But that's not all I want to do."

  "Then do it," she whispered. Make me whole.

  As if reading her mind, Devin painted her with his fingertips, using a mix of pressure and strokes so soft she wasn't sure whether they were real or her imagination. Her pussy became hot, huge, too large to remain contained within her pelvic bones. Juice bubbled out of her, and the scent hung in the air. She knew he could smell it. Do you see what I'm capable of, she thought. What you've done for me.

  "Ready?" he whispered.

  "For. . .you? Yes."

  "Not that. Not yet."

  "Then what?"

  "I'll show you if you trust me."

  "I do. You have to know that."

  After bending her legs even more, he pushed lightly down on her knees spreading them wide apart. He positioned his own knees so she could brace her feet against them before turning his attention to what of her he'd exposed. No longer able to reach his wrists, she rested her arms on the ground and simply felt. Simply existed.

  He began by stroking the area between her anus and cunt, the gesture gentle and yet demanding. Fluid from her sex flowed around his fingers. It came and came, warm liquid oozing from her and telling him everything about her.

  At first the change was so subtle that it didn't make its way into her so-called senses, but then she realized he was using both hands to trace the contours of her pussy lips. Up, down, over, and around his fingers marched, exploring her core but not once invading.

  "You're beautiful," he said. "You have an incredible cunt."

  Any other time, with any other man, she would have been rendered speechless, but this was Devin.

  "Do it," she begged. "Please, do it."

  "Do what?"

  "You know. . .inside me."

  "Not yet, my lady. When I've finished celebrating your gift."

  She was ready; couldn't he tell that! Unable to listen to her clit's lonely cry any longer, she rolled up off the ground, lifted her still-heavy arms, and pulled her nether lips apart. Not believing what she'd done, she fell back but didn't release herself.

  To her delight, he took the invitation. Although it was now crowded around her pussy, he slid first his forefinger and then his thumb into her wet opening. She couldn't think beyond that one part of her anatomy. He seemed to rest in there for a short while her clit pulsed and throbbed, feeling as if it was trying to escape. Then he took the needy piece of flesh between his fingers and held her as she'd earlier held his cock. He kneaded her clit as he'd ministered to her breasts, sometimes rolling the nub back and forth with his finger-pads, sometimes pushing it back into her, occasionally drawing it outward.

  "This is what you need?" he asked.

  "Oh God, yes."

  "You don't want me to quit, to free you?"

  She didn't want to be free. She wanted to scream.

  To explode, maybe to die!

  There! Rolling toward her, swelling around and over her. Hot and wet. Release!

  Climax!

  "Let it go, Ana. Let it come."

  He still controlled her clit, taking it for his own, turning it into both their plaything, their shared pleasure. He was gentle and yet strong. She narrowed down and became nothing except a sex organ until, until.
. .

  It started as a wave. She caught fire between her legs and was dimly aware of twin heats in her nipples. He stroked, flicked. Leaned in and breathed on her. Gifted her with proof of her sexuality.

  The wave grew, coiled outward from her pussy until she felt it in her belly, breasts, throat, teeth even.

  She needed to be free! To run and run and run! To scream!

  "Let it come. Let it come!"

  She felt like molten glass that shattered and splintered. Throwing back her head, she gulped in air and let her climax explode from her. She sensed her vulva jerk. The pace quickened until it became a tremor, a series of minute, yet powerful earthquakes.

  She started to scream. Devin clamped his hand over her mouth.

  The last thing she knew was the taste and smell of both of them.

  * * * * *

  She must not have been unconscious for long because Devin was still where she remembered him being, and the moonlight gave her a glimpse of his so-big cock. She tried to touch him, but her muscles hadn't yet returned.

  "Oh, my God," she whispered.

  "I take it that means it was good for you?"

  "I feel. . .as if I've been shot."

  "No, it's not that. You'd feel different."

  Laughing, she took inventory of her various body parts. With her shirt doing nothing except covering her shoulders, she was starting to shiver, thanks in part to the sweat that seemed to cling to every inch of her flesh. Although she still didn't trust herself to lift more than a feather, she no longer felt completely boneless. And she was starting to think.

  "You're getting cold," Devin said as he rubbed her thighs.

  "That's. . .that's not all of it."

  "Then what is?"

  Shut up. Keep it to yourself. But she couldn't do that; the woman she'd become wouldn't allow it. "You knew what to do." She indicated her still-exposed cunt. "It didn't take you any time at all to make me come."

  "I didn't make you, Ana. You wanted it. You were ready."

  She couldn't argue with that. Still, she couldn't let it go yet. "You—you didn't want me to go on holding your cock. Cock. I can say the word. And yet that's what you did to me."

  "Yes." He drew out the word. "I did."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's what you needed."

  How could she possibly argue with the truth, his sensitivity and understanding? "I just didn't know it would be so easy for you to—you know."

  "Would you rather not be capable of a climax?"

  The thought of going back to the dried-up shell of a woman she'd once been made her shudder.

  "You're freezing." He began massaging her belly.

  "Not really. I feel as if I've discovered a stranger living inside my body. One you brought to life."

  "I can't take full credit. You had a lot to do with it."

  He was probably right, but now that she was along the road to recovery, she could no longer ignore the tension in her splayed legs. Maybe a ballerina could hold a pose for hours, but she was risking a cramp. She flexed her ankles.

  "That's uncomfortable, isn't it?" he said.

  "A little. More than a little."

  He slid away from her which gave her the necessary space to straighten her legs. She bit down on a gasp of pain. Once she was in a more comfortable position with her pussy again safe and secure within the protection of her legs, she focused on Devin. He was looking at her breasts. She started to cover herself.

  "Don't," he said. "Unless you're too cold."

  "I'm not." It wasn't a complete lie.

  "Do you want to sleep?"

  Part of her needed to regain the strength her climax had stolen from her, but she could wait. "Later. Now it's your turn."

  Because of the darkness, she couldn't be sure that he'd smiled, but she chose to believe he had. "Do you agree?" she asked.

  "You're in charge."

  She'd never been in charge in the bedroom, hadn't thought that was possible. But not only weren't they in bed, but Devin was a new sex partner; the rules for them hadn't been written.

  Hopefully there'd never be rules.

  "I've gotten the ground cover warm," she said as she sat up. "Now it's your turn."

  "My turn?"

  "To lie down." She rolled to the side and patted the spot for emphasis. "Unless you're afraid."

  He didn't say anything. Neither did he jump at her suggestion, but eventually he was sitting where she'd recently lain. She settled herself on her knees and scooted around until she'd found a comfortable spot for them. Then she pushed against Devin's chest. "Down, boy."

  His long-suffering sigh didn't fool her; beneath that act was a man unsure of what was going to happen next. Well, that made two of them. Once he was on his back with his hands folded not too casually on his chest, she surveyed what little she could see of the scene. What caught and held her attention was the thick, dark rod sticking up from him.

  She ran the back of her thumb over it, careful to cover everything from base to tip. He handled everything until she reached the slit at the top of his cock. When she slid her nail over it, he jumped. "Ah," she said, trying to strike a casual tone. "Duly noted. A sensitive area."

  "Very."

  "I'll remember that. What do you want? Kisses all over your body? Maybe you need a massage."

  "Not necessary."

  "In other words, get to the main act?"

  "Men are like that."

  The longer she studied and touched his cock, the more it fascinated her. Not only that, she was fast discovering that she wasn't as satiated as she'd thought. Her body was getting ready for another round.

  Another round?

  She was heating between her legs just thinking about having him shoved deep inside her. She was willing to do anything he wanted, but she sensed he'd settle for a basic fuck.

  Without letting either of them in on what she intended, she straddled him. Then she took hold of his cock and aimed it between her legs. He was staring at her, and although she wished she was brave or crazy enough to return his gaze, she couldn't quite pull it off. Besides, she had things to do.

  By putting her full concentration on it, she held back from inserting him in her cunt. Instead, she ran the tip of his cock over her labial lips duplicating the movements he'd made earlier with his fingers. She loved the idea of being able to control his sex organ. More than that, she loved the sensations that accompanied the brush of cock against cunt. After a few stops and starts, she hit upon a crude figure eight that kept them in constant contact. He'd placed his hands on her thighs and lightly caressed them, adding to her excitement.

  Her sex juices leaked out to keep both of them lubricated, although she suspected some of the fluid came from him. Through experimentation, she discovered that she was most sensitive toward the front of her pussy. Although he'd yet to penetrate her, it wouldn't take much to set her off. His grip on her legs became tighter, firmer. Neither of them had a rhythm to their breathing.

  "Ana. . .I can't do. . .this much longer."

  "You're coming?"

  "As if you had to ask."

  But she had asked. For the first time in her life, she'd asked. Tears burned her eyes.

  He was right. He didn't deserve to be tortured. Smiling through her tears, she squatted lower and showed him the way into her opening. As soon as he began to slide into her, she released his cock and settled herself over him. She felt him every inch of the way in, the sensation like wet silk against wet silk.

  Gripping her waist, he held her in place, but even as her ability to concentrate faltered, she knew that she, not he, controlled their movements. If she wanted, she could pin him to the ground. Instead, she kept her weight on her legs and gave him his freedom, at least enough to allow him to pump. It wouldn't take long before his back gave out; maybe he wouldn't come before that.

  Surprised at her ability to remain clinical, she concentrated on his motion, then timed herself so they worked in harmony. She rode his cock, reveling in the
sucking sensation. After a few moments, he stopped and let her do the work.

  No problem. After leaning back and placing her hands behind her on his thighs to give herself the necessary leverage, she locked her gaze on him and worked her body up and down, up and down. Her face felt numb. Her hair tumbled forward to brush her bouncing breasts. He reached up and took hold of them, and she guessed at the sensation he was getting from the ripple of movement. She felt her breasts, her belly, her thighs jiggle. It was as if her entire body was in on the ride.

  Under her, he gathered his pelvic muscles so he could rise up to meet her every downward thrust. She felt as one with the cadence.

  He was hers. Her prisoner. Macho man laid low by a woman's cunt. Her cunt.

  Laughter bubbled up inside only to be lost in her body's drive and retreat. She counted each downward thrust, sweated and tried to breathe. She wanted to concentrate on the heated friction inside her. He was a rod, a stake she'd impaled herself on. Instead of trying to free herself, she embraced and rode him.

  His fingers ground into her thigh muscles. She felt as if she was climbing a mountain—as if they were climbing it together. The exertion might kill her, and she didn't give a damn. She imagined that his cock had broken free of the rest of his body and had become a heat-seeking missile aimed at her gut. Her heart.

  She threw back her head, clamped her teeth down over her scream, her climax. Felt it from her clit clear through to her fingers and toes.

  Felt him pump and thrust, pump and thrust, then let go, his cum drenching her core.

  She couldn't be sure but she thought they were both crying.

  Chapter 15

  Devin didn't suppose he'd ever completely make his peace with the wilderness, but he'd managed to put his childhood experience into perspective. Knowing that his best friend's life had ended here had made that perspective harder to keep, but that was nothing compared to what he felt at this moment.

  It was morning, maybe as late as 9 a.m. Neither he nor Ana had said much when they woke up wrapped in each other's arms. Knowing what the day would be about had kept him from asking her if she wanted to have sex again or ask himself if he had the courage to bury himself in her again. Now they were on the move—slipping silently through the trees to the peak where the rifle shots had come from.