He dips his head and places a kiss between my breasts and then turns slightly to take one nipple between his teeth. It's just the right amount of pressure, that perfect balance between pleasure and pain. Couple with the slow deliberate movements of his hand between my thighs, I fall. There's no other way to describe it. All the tension in my body holding me upright simply vanishes and I collapse against him, trembling.
I've had orgasms, more often on my own than not, but nothing like this where it just goes on and on. My thighs are quaking and I can't catch my breath as he continues to play me like an instrument.
“Stop... please, stop.” I am begging now. It's too much.
He kisses me again, gently, his lips moving over mine as if I were something precious. No one has ever kissed me that way. No man has ever made me come without getting his own.
As he withdraws his hand, I shiver and his arms close around me.
“You're dangerous,” I tell him.
“Why do you say that?”
I look at him then, at the green eyes that seem so sincere. “Because you make me believe in things I shouldn't, and that could break my heart.”
“I won't do that,” he says. “That's the last thing I ever want to do.”
I need to be away from him, just to clear my head. Opening the door, I climb out of the car and try to ignore the fact that my knees are wobbling like I've been on a three day drunk.
“I will see you tonight, Annalee,” he insists. “You can count on it.”
God, I hope so.
Clayton
* * *
I should go back to the apartment and survey the damage from the party I abandoned. But my roommate is probably passed out and he's more than likely invited some random couple to fuck like rabbits in my bed. I don't want to deal with that. I don't want to deal with a bunch of drunk, hungover assholes puking all over the place.
On the north side of town, I'm just as close to Fontaine as I am to my apartment near campus. It's almost six by now. By the time I get there, Mama will be up, and like every mama's boy ever born, I have the overwhelming urge to go home to her.
I put the car in drive and take the familiar route. I could drive it in my sleep, and considering I haven't seen a bed in around twenty-four hours, that's a good thing.
Parking at the back of the house, I walk into the kitchen and she's sitting at the counter having her first cup of coffee and scouring her cook books.
“Who are you trying to impress?” I ask, leaning against the refrigerator.
“You look like something the cat dragged in. Have you even been to bed?” she demands.
“Not yet,” I answer. I don't lie to her. I can't. She always sees straight through me. “I'll crash in a minute.”
“Why are you here, Clayton? It's either something really good or really bad to have you standing in my kitchen at this time of morning,” she surmises.
“It's good. I met the girl I'm going to marry.” It's a crazy thing to say, and I honestly didn't intend to say it. But it's out there. No doubts or second guesses. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her.
Mama rolls her eyes and laughs. “Please tell me you didn't say that to her!”
Now I'm rolling my eyes. “I'm not crazy. She'd bolt. I'll just bide my time and ease her into the idea... by the way, Samuel will hate her on sight.”
“He hates everybody. How is that news?”
It's not a secret that their marriage sucks, that he's a cheating bastard. I've never asked the question, but now I have to. “Why do you stay with him?”
She sips her coffee and considers her answer carefully. “I don't plan to for much longer. This town is so small... and everything we do is under scrutiny. When Mia has finished high school and gone off to college and doesn't have to stay here with every busybody in Fontaine digging at her, then I'm going to divorce him.”
* * *
“Please tell me you plan to hire a shark for an attorney and take every last penny he has?”
Mama laughs. “He's got fewer pennies than anyone realizes. The money, Clayton, is mine. It always was. We'll see how many of those pretty, young blondes are still interested in him then, won't we?”
The word divorce in reference to one's parents ought to prompt fear or dread or sadness. In this instance, it's just relief. “We'll have a party.”
“No, we will not. You have partied enough,” she says. “Go to bed before you fall over and when you get up, you can tell me all about this girl.”
I leave the kitchen and head upstairs to my old room. It feels good to be home and to know that in a few short hours, I'll be seeing Annalee again.
SNEAK PEEK
AND A SPECIAL SNEAK PEEK AT CARTER: BOURBON & BLOOD, BOOK THREE!
CARTER
The truck’s powerful engine rumbled as Clayton Darcy extricated himself from the backseat. He was drunk off his ass and they’d probably all hear about tomorrow from Mia and Annalee, Carter thought. If anyone had told him that he’d be out drinking with a Darcy, much less with the rest of the Hayes clan with him, he’d have called them a damn liar.
But his mind wasn’t really on Clayton or even on the game they’d just watched while consuming excessive amounts of beer and more than their fair share of shots. It was her. She was in his fucking head, mixing it all up and making him crazy. It had been like that from day one and he was tired of it.
He glanced over toward her house. It was one of the smaller homes in the subdivision where Clayton Darcy lived. It had been hell sneaking around in that neighborhood and trying not to be seen, but again, that had been her choice. She was the one who wanted to hide, who wanted to pretend like they were nothing to each other.
The light was on upstairs in her bedroom. Was she in bed reading one of the smutty novels she liked? Or was she watching some sappy TV show while eating ice cream? He knew her habits, he knew so much about her, and yet in public, they’d never shared more than a few words.
Clayton stumbled up the driveway and managed to get himself in the house. Emmitt, the only one of them still sober, shifted the truck into drive. It surged forward but had gone no more than fifty feet before Carter yelled out. “Stop the truck!”
“You puke in here and I’m gonna kick your ass!” Emmitt shouted.
“Just let me out, dammit!” Carter replied.
Bennett shifted forward in his seat and Carter moved past him through the open door. He crossed the road and marched toward her front door. He was done with hiding. She wanted him to be some big secret, something on the side while she played the good girl in front of the whole town. He was done with that shit.
Raising his fist, he pounded on the door. “Josie! I know you’re in there!”
In the truck, Bennett looked at Emmitt, “Did you know about this?”
“Ain’t that Josie Marcum’s house?” Emmitt shot back. “What the hell would she be doing with Carter?”
Bennet raised his eyebrow. “What do all women do with Carter?”
“True enough… but Josie Marcum? Hell.”
They watched him walking up to her door. Bennett asked, “Should we wait for him?”
“Hell no!” Emmitt said. “I’m not sitting outside waiting for his ass while he gets laid!”
“We don’t know that he’s getting laid!” Bennett protested.
Emmitt made a noise of complete derision. “It’s Carter and she’s female. Hell, she’ll probably greet him pussy first.”
“Jesus, you’re crude!” Bennett said with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, well, I’m not in love so I don’t have to pretty it all up,” Emmitt said and eased the truck into drive. “She can drive his ass home when she’s done with him.”
On the porch, Carter was preparing to bang on the door again, when the porch light suddenly flicked on. The door opened a crack and he could see Josie peering out at him.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed at him.
“Open the damn door and let me in!” he barked.
<
br /> “I will not!”
“If you don’t,” he replied, “I will stand out here making so damn much noise one of your uptight neighbors will call the cops. It’ll be all over town by morning, Josie, that I got arrested on your doorstep!”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Carter smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly expression. There was none of his usual charm in it. Instead it was mean and even a little vicious. “You ought to know better than anybody that there’s not a lot I won’t do. Now open the damn door!”
The door closed and he heard the lock click and the chain slide free. When she opened it and stepped back, he didn’t hesitate, but just barged in slamming the door behind him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea what people are saying?”
“The truth?” he asked. “That I’ve been sneaking over here and fucking you on an almost nightly basis? That I make you scream and beg and say the kind of words that would have everybody at the First Baptist Church praying for your soul?”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Just because I don’t want to trot my business out for everyone in town or be lumped in with all the other women you string along—.”
“String along?” he demanded. He was so angry he wanted to shake her. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration and annoyance. “Since I bumped into you in that damn bar in Cincinnati I haven’t had time for a conversation with another woman, much less the time string one along! And if anyone’s doing any stringing here, it’s you!”
“Me? I don’t think so, Carter Hayes. You’re welcome to walk anytime you want to… that’s all this is anyway. Just a little bit of fun, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
“Oh, yeah. This is so much fun!” he snarked. It was fun like ramming your face into a brick wall. He started to walk out. Hell, he wasn’t even sure why he came there. It had been a beer-fueled impulse and now he wasn’t sure if he regretted it or not. He glanced back at her. She was clearly mad as hell. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her chin was up. But it was the look of hurt and disappointment in her eyes that made him stop. He’d known she could hurt him. She had more times already than he could count. But he’d never thought, not even for a second, that he had the power to hurt her.
“Fuck it,” he whispered and turned back to her. He grasped her wrist, tugging her forward until she was pressed against him. She wore nothing or next to nothing beneath the robe she had on. His hands went to her hair immediately, tugging her head back until she was looking up at him. Her lips were parted, not in surprise, but anticipation. Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her, his lips moving over hers with all the urgency that he felt. He didn’t want to lose her, but he wasn’t going to take the scraps either.
Sliding his tongue between her lips, the kiss took on a note that was blatantly carnal. He wasn’t even sure how it happened, but suddenly her back was against the wall and her legs were wrapped around his waist. His cock was so hard he thought it might literally kill him, and she was moaning into his mouth. Drawing back, Carter looked at her, at the flush in her cheeks and her kiss swollen lips. Without a drop of makeup on her face, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. If he unzipped his pants, he could be inside her in less than ten seconds. And he was going to walk away.
“I’m not doing this with you anymore, Josie… you want to fuck me, then you’re going to have to date me.”
“Excuse me?” she said, blinking at him in confusion.
“You heard me,” he said. “If you want me in your bed, then you’re going to be seen with me… in public.” He stepped back, and her legs unlocked from his waist until she was standing on her own two feet. “You know where to find me.”
Carter opened the door and walked out into the night. Bennett and Emmitt were long gone. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked home, probably wouldn’t be the last, because he didn’t believe for a second that Josie Marcum would ditch her good girl image to slum it with him.
Clayton (Bourbon & Blood Book 2) Page 14
