by Wendy Vella
Water streamed around them as he moved down her body, licking the skin of her stomach until he touched the waistband of her panties. Tugging them down, he opened her thighs and licked the soft folds.
“Yessss.”
He concentrated on driving her crazy, all the while driving himself to the same state. He was so hard he hurt. Her soft moans and whimpers drove him on, the little sounds hiking his passion higher.
“God, Buster,” she said, her voice husky.
She tasted good, and he wanted so much more it ought to terrify him. Grazing his teeth over the small, hard nub, he felt the tension inside her ratchet up another notch.
“I can’t st-stand much more.”
He pushed his fingers deep inside her and felt the silken muscles clench around him as she came to a shuddering climax. He stayed there until the last tremor had eased, then stood and shut off the water.
He stepped out and began to dry himself as he watched her. Her eyes were closed, head still resting on the wall, and she was breathing deeply. He grabbed another towel, lifted her out and dried her off, and after he’d taken his wallet out of his jeans, he took her hand and led her to the bed.
He gently stripped her of the towel, laid her on the sheets, then took the condom out of his wallet and sheathed himself. She watched him, her eyes following his every move.
“Do you want this?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “Very much.”
“I’ve been thinking about this since you walked into The Howler in those tight jeans,” he said, moving over her body. “Me and every other man in the place.”
“Buster.” She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged it hard. “Shut up.”
Their lips met as he eased inside her in a long, slow thrust that had them both moaning. Willow wrapped her legs around his waist, deepening the penetration. Buster wanted to throw his head back and howl, the feeling was so intense.
“You feel good,” he said in a massive understatement.
“Don’t stop!” she cried, which was pretty much the dumbest thing he’d ever heard, because an earthquake couldn’t dislodge him at that moment.
Lifting her hips, he drove deeper, harder and could feel the pressure of his release coming close. Rolling one of her nipples between his fingers, he teased her until he felt the tremors rock her body. With another thrust she cried out and he let himself follow, into one of the most mind-blowing climaxes he’d ever experienced. It rocked him and left him feeling drained. Easing down beside her on the bed, he rolled to his back, taking her with him. She reached around for the covers and drew them up.
“Your parents aren’t uptight like you, so whatever this shit is between you, it must stem from when you left.”
He wasn’t sure she’d answer. Then she started talking.
“I’m not uptight. I’m contained.”
Buster snorted.
“I’ve always struggled with their lifestyle.” She was lying half on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. “I wanted parents I called Mom and Dad. I wanted to have a bedroom, not a bunk in an RV, but even so, they treated me fairly. The problem was that I was angry all the time, and I resented them for not giving me the life I wanted, one like other kids had.”
“You wanted four walls and suburbia?”
“I wanted to be dropped off at school in my parents’ plain gray sedan while Mom and Dad, dressed in a suit, went off to work. I wanted to have a lunchbox filled with sandwiches and cookies, not raw vegetables. I wanted to wear expensive sneakers like other kids.”
“But instead?”
“We were home-schooled, and when we went into town or to the local park, I always felt different from other kids. Even though it probably wasn’t obvious to them it was to me.”
He knew she wouldn’t have been the type of kid who enjoyed standing out from the crowd. Some people like Ethan were made that way, but not her, and not Buster himself. He was a blender, or so his mom and dad had always said. “My boy doesn’t like to be different,” he’d once heard his mom saying. Which begged the question of why she’d given him the name she had, but this wasn’t the time to think about that.
“I could name every herb and its uses, cooking or medicinal, and the entire central principle of astrology and its integration within the cosmos by age ten. I contributed nothing to pollution and was a recycling queen.”
“Nice. You’d be a handy person to have around if I got lost on the trails.”
She snuffled, her breath brushing his chest.
“So, I understand the anger you had as a child, but why did you stay away from your family after you left, if you’d finally gotten what you wanted?”
“I wasn’t prepared for the world and shit happened and that made me angrier at them.”
He lifted her up and placed her on his chest so he could see her face in the weak light. “And?”
“And I was pretty much a failure for the first few years.”
“Why was that?”
“I told you I lost everything I had almost right away, but pride wouldn’t let me call my parents, and that same pride let me hook up with a group of people who were into drugs and other things that I’m not proud of.”
Buster could see talking about that time was painful, so he ran a hand down her spine.
“We stole and drank and did drugs, and other things.” She lowered her eyes. “By the time I snapped out of it, a few years had gone by. I left those people, worked my way to New York where I got a job, and studied, and eventually decided on real estate as a career. The rest is pretty much history.”
He doubted that was the entire story, and his heart hurt for the young, innocent girl who had left her family, intent on a big adventure. Instead, she hadn’t found the life she thought she’d always wanted, but had her heart broken and her trust shattered.
“I’m sorry, baby, that you went through that.”
“Don’t be. It made me who I am today.”
“Hot and stuck-up?”
“Sensible and aware.”
“So, if your parents are basically good people who didn’t mistreat you but simply didn’t give you the lifestyle you wanted, is that enough of a reason to not have them in your life now?”
“You make me sound shallow.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m just trying to make sense of this. Family is important, and I think it’ll help you sort out all that crazy shit going on inside your head if you make peace with them.”
“I thought I was sane,” she sighed. “But actually I’m batshit crazy.”
“In a sexy kind of way,” Buster said, running his hand over the curves of her ass.
“Jade’s going to have a baby.”
“Auntie Moonbeam has a certain ring to it.”
She grabbed a handful of his hair and gave it a sharp tug, then asked, “Do you have any other family?”
“Just Mom and Dad, and they’re off traveling the world. They drop in every once in a while, then off they go again.”
“Do you miss them?” She traced his lips with a finger, and he felt his body respond to her touch and the feel of those soft curves pressed into him.
“Of course, but I have my friends, and we talk every week.”
“Are they normal?”
He smiled up at her. “You’ve met Ethan, Newman and Jake. How can you possibly ask me that question with a straight face?”
“Your parents, silly. Are they normal?”
“Normal is as normal does. My mom always drove me crazy, putting smiley faces on the tops of my sandwiches and leaving little notes in my lunchbox.”
“That sounds sweet.”
“Not when you’re fourteen and trying to be tough, it’s not. And it wasn’t sweet, either, that she kept repairing all the rips I put in my clothes with neat little stitches, or that she used to see me in town and call out, ‘There’s my little boy, my munchkin.’”
Willow bit her lip, clearly to stop from smiling, so he kissed it free.
“But he
re’s the thing,” he said. “I love my mom and dad, and even though that shit used to drive me crazy and I wanted Jake’s parents because I thought they were cooler, I know mom and dad did what they did because they loved me.”
“Just like my parents let me go because they loved me and thought they were doing the right thing by raising me the way they did?”
“That’s my take.” Buster kissed the edge of her jaw.
“When I can think, I’ll give that some thought.”
“You do that.”
She touched his tattoo, tracing her fingers over the black ink. “I wanted to see the rest of this so badly.” Her lips moved to replace her fingers, and she licked the swirls and lines of black ink. “It’s really beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” Buster said, pushing her hair to one side so he could watch her as she kissed his body. She moved to his chest, then down to his stomach, and by the time she’d wrapped a hand around his cock he couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.
“Shit, New York, that feels sooo good.”
She smiled up at him, then sucked the length of him into her mouth and proceeded to drive him crazy until he could take no more. He grabbed another condom, tugged her hair and handed it to her.
She sheathed him, then climbed back up his body and took him deep inside her. This time it was slower; they teased each other, drawing out the sensations. She lifted her hips, then slid back down, causing him to moan deep in his throat. He touched her breasts, cupping the flesh, teasing the taut peaks of her nipples, and he felt her slick walls tighten around him.
“Let go, Willow,” he murmured, and she did, arching backward, looking like every erotic dream he’d ever had. The sight was so beautiful it drove him upwards to find his own release.
“I’m so tired.” She slumped down beside him. “All this emotion is new to me, and it’s exhausting.” Her words were slurred. Wrapping a handful of her hair around his fist, he pressed her head into his shoulder, then kissed the top of it.
“Sleep, then.”
“Okay,” she whispered, and seconds later he felt his eyes close.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Willow heard her phone ringing and thought about ignoring it, but old habits die hard. Opening her eyes, she looked at Buster, who was lying on his stomach beside her. One arm was over his head, the other hanging off the side of the bed. His face was turned toward her, and he looked different like this, relaxed in sleep. No frown or scowl. She suppressed the need to touch her lips to his and stroke a cheek. She wanted to trail her hands over the broad shoulders banded with muscle that were exposed above the sheet and wake him with her kisses.
Instead, she pushed back the covers, found a sweater, and threw it on on her way to the living room. Finding her purse took a minute, but once she had it, she pulled out her cell phone.
“Hello?” she said into the tiny mic.
Her boss didn’t return the greeting. “Willow, what’s happening with that contract?”
Rubbing a hand over her face, Willow tried to focus. “Nothing yet.”
“Well, I just got off the phone with the clients, and they’re not happy. They want it signed. I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake here.”
Willow found a chair and fell into it. “I know what’s at stake, Michael. I know that this deal could bring in thousands for your firm and that if I succeed, you’ll think about offering me the partnership.”
“So, what’s the holdup?”
“He’s stubborn and doesn’t want to sell…but I’m working on him. I just need a bit more time,” Willow lied, hoping to buy herself just that: some more time. She would eventually have to tell Michael that the deal wasn’t going to happen, but not now, when all she wanted to do was climb back into bed. Something made her look to the bedroom, and she saw Buster standing in the doorway, his face set in hard, angry lines. Realizing what he’d just overheard, she hastily ended the call with Michael.
“Buster—”
“So you letting me fuck you is working on me, is it?” He turned away from her and stormed into the bathroom, where he slammed the door.
“It’s not like it sounded, Buster.” Willow couldn’t believe the panic welling up inside her. It was almost choking her.
“It sounded like you’ve been playing me.” Seconds later he was out of the bathroom fully clothed. “It sounded like this has been The Willow Show from the start. Tears, a lot of angst, and now a good fuck to bring me to my knees.” His face held no emotion.
“Let me explain, please.”
“I should have known.” He brushed past her. “You’re just like she was. Business is everything, and to hell with anything that gets in the way of that.”
“No, that’s not true. I’m not like Jessica.” She tried to grab his arm, but he shrugged her off.
“I thought she was the biggest bitch I’d ever met, but it seems like I was wrong.”
Willow flinched and tried to reach for him again. She had to make him listen to her.
“Please, let me explain about that call.”
“What’s to explain? You tried to soften me up with sex. It was okay, but if you think that was enough to swing this deal, then you don’t know men, New York. It’ll take more than a quick fuck to bring me to heel.”
He was pulling on his coat now, every movement angry. Willow couldn’t believe he thought she was capable of using her body to manipulate him.
“I want you out of Howling today, and if you aren’t, then I’ll have Cubby throw you out.”
“You need to listen to me!” She reached a hand toward him, but once again, he stepped away.
She knew he was just lashing out at her because he believed she’d betrayed him, but she wanted to believe he knew her better than that now. The fact that he wouldn’t listen to her hit those raw places deep inside her—the places that told her she wasn’t a woman a man could care about.
“You know I didn’t lure you here. You need to stop and listen to me.” Willow tried again as panic threatened to choke her.
“Do I? Maybe you planned the whole thing. Maybe you knew I’d follow you when you walked out of The Howler. Let’s face it, you had me hot the minute you walked in. Maybe you thought this was your chance to manipulate me into signing.”
He wasn’t going to listen to her; she could see that in his face, so she took refuge in her pride and stopped trying. “You believe what you want about me, then. I’m not going to beg.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t listen. Now get out of my town,” he snarled before walking out the door and slamming it behind him.
She made it to the kitchen and filled a glass of water. Gulping it down, she stood at the sink, gripping the edge for long minutes while her brain whirled furiously. She’d broken all her hard-fought rules, and now she was paying the price.
She’d gotten close to people here in Howling, confronted her parents last night, and this was the result: standing here, aching all over. Her chest felt tight, her eyes itchy, and she had a really bad feeling that something was happening to her heart.
“You have no one to blame but yourself, Willow Harper.”
With those words, she hurried to the shower, desperate now to pack her things and get out of Lake Howling. New York would put everything back into perspective—it had to. She’d be the cool, calm woman she’d learned to be there and if not, she’d be really good at hiding behind that façade.
Stepping into the shower, Willow tried to shut out the memories of Buster kissing her body all over in here last night. The orgasm had been bone-melting, as had what happened in the bedroom afterward.
“Don’t think,” she reminded herself. Turning the shower to lukewarm, she scrubbed herself quickly, then got out and brushed her teeth.
She pulled on leggings, zipped flat-heeled boots over the top, then threw on a camisole and her purple sweater. Ignoring the tangled mess of her hair, she stuffed everything into her suitcase and tried to avoid looking at the bed as she stripped it and bundled the line
ns on the mattress. She would leave money for Macy for laundry. After she’d buttoned up her coat, she started taking things out to the car.
A frenzied desperation rode her as she scurried around the small cabin, gathering things and cleaning. Finally, she was done. She took some money out of her wallet, put it on the table and hurried out the door, stopping only to lock it behind her.
She’d drop the keys at The Roar, asking if they could be given to Macy, then text Macy when she reached the safety of Brook. Ignoring the lance of guilt she felt at leaving without saying goodbye to any of the people she’d come to like here, including her family, she climbed into her rental.
The other Harpers were used to her ignoring them, so it wouldn’t come as a surprise when they heard she’d left town. They’d be disappointed, or maybe not after last night, but that was life, one disappointment after another as far as Willow was concerned.
It was colder today, and she could see that there had been a fresh dump of snow sometime during the night, while she was making love with Buster.
“Do not go there, Willow Harper,” she said loudly. There lay a wealth of pain.
If she drove slowly, she’d be okay. She had to be. She couldn’t stay here and see Buster again.
Giving the little cabin a last look, knowing that she would remember her time here for years to come, she started the car. Once on the road, she could see that ice had formed and eased back on the gas pedal, driving slowly and cautiously into Howling. The small town was brimming with activity even on such a cold day. Motor homes, rental vehicles, and people were everywhere. After she’d found a parking spot, she grabbed Macy’s keys and got out, then made for The Roar.
“Hey there, Willow. You shouldn’t be out driving on a day like today.”
The sheriff was standing inside the doorway talking to Jake McBride. Damn, Willow thought. This was Buster’s best friend, so she needed to act calmly and rationally, not crazed and wild-eyed like she felt. Her skin felt tight, her hands were clammy, and she wished now that she’d taken the time to pull a hat on over her wet hair and gloves on her hands. These people noticed stuff like that, and would want to know why she wasn’t dressed for the weather.
