Texas Kissing

by Newbury, Helena

  I have to do something. I have to do something right now or this is going to happen and that’s going to be a mistake.

  He leaned forward.

  “I can’t,” I croaked.

  “I don’t care,” he said simply and moved in again.

  “I can’t get involved with you,” I said quickly.

  Suddenly, his big hands were on my face, cupping my cheeks. He gazed down into my eyes. “Lily,” he said, “if you give me one more goddamn excuse I’m just going to kiss my way right through it. Do you understand me?”

  I just looked up at him, open-mouthed.

  He moved in again.

  “But I—”

  His lips crushed against mine and the next word turned into mmff! And then I forgot what I was going to say anyway.

  It was as if I’d touched a live wire. I wasn’t ready for the raw, hot throb of it, shooting down from my lips to right where I lived. It made me arch my back and gasp, sucking his mouth even more firmly against mine. This wasn’t like any kiss I’d known back in New York. This was Texas kissing, hot and wild and rough, his lips pressing, demanding, taking what he damn well wanted. He twisted and pushed and then his tongue was plunging into my mouth and his possession of me was complete.

  I staggered backward—not because I wanted to get away but because my legs started to give way beneath me. It felt so fucking good, all the better for having been missing from my life for so long. He moved with me, his hands grabbing my waist to hold me up. One step, two steps, and then my back hit the hard wood of the wall and he had me pinned against it, my head tilted up to meet his.

  He kept one hand on my waist, the heat of his palm throbbing into me through my blouse. The other he slid up my body...over my stomach, up to—Jesus—up to my breast. I went up on my tiptoes, groaning through the kiss as he cupped my breast through the thin cotton, squeezing it gently. I could feel the slow, wonderful ache as my nipple hardened under his touch.

  When he broke the kiss, my breath came out in a long, drawn out moan. I blinked up at him helplessly. The look he gave me sent a whipcrack straight down to my groin—naked, raw lust, as if he was barely able to keep himself under control. Jesus, was I doing that to him?

  He captured my mouth again, tilting my head up even more, kissing my upper lip, and then sucking it into his mouth so that I was left open-mouthed and panting. He used his kiss to keep me against the wall while his hands roved over my body. They started at my hips, stroking the curves of them, then over my sides, making me tremble and gasp, before sliding under my breasts. He took both of them in his hands and, this time, his thumbs rubbed roughly over my nipples. I groaned into his mouth.

  When he lifted his mouth from mine, his eyes were heavy-lidded with hunger—he looked almost drunk with lust. I’d never had a man look at me that way before and something about it sent a new wave of heat through me, pooling at my groin.

  My brain was still fighting a valiant rearguard action, despite every other part of my body having surrendered. “We shouldn’t,” I said, my voice sounding very far away. “We mustn’t—”

  He leaned in closer and just looked at me.

  I swallowed and my protests died away.

  His mouth came down on me again, tasting me and then devouring me utterly. One hand slid like a knife blade between my thighs and I shrieked in surprise and squeezed them shut...then slowly let them open. He pressed upward until the edge of his hand met the softness of my pussy lips through denim and cotton. And then he rubbed.

  I grabbed at his arms with both hands. My fingers closed on biceps that felt like rock, and I let out a little moan and went weak again. Every grind of his hand against my groin sent dark heat rippling through me. I could feel myself getting wet, on the other side of the fabric.

  He twisted his hand and drew it up over my crotch and I arched my back and pressed helplessly, wantonly against him, desperate to maintain contact for as long as possible. He lifted his mouth from mine as his hands went to my shoulders. He started massaging them, squeezing and releasing with his powerful fingers.

  It took me a couple of seconds to realize that he was doing it to help him hold back. He was occupying his hands to prevent him...

  “Undo your goddamn blouse,” he panted.

  ...to prevent him from ripping it off!

  My fingers felt as if they were made of wax. They kept slipping on the buttons, but I managed to push the first one through its hole, then another and another. I felt his eyes on my breasts, drinking in the sight of them as they appeared.

  I was arching my back a little, unconsciously grinding my hips in response to him touching me. So, as I unfastened the buttons, my bra-clad breasts jutted through the opening, my skin pale in the stable’s dim light. Bull groaned as he saw the soft upper slopes. A tremor went all the way down my body. What if he doesn’t like me?

  His fingers slid under the shoulders of my blouse, surprisingly gentle given the size of his hands. He pushed the fabric back, exposing as much of me as possible, and drew in his breath. My fingers slowed on the buttons, shyness about my size welling up inside, despite the semi-darkness—

  “You’re amazing,” he rumbled and the fear evaporated, turning into heat. He ran one thick finger down my collarbone and into the valley of my breasts, enjoying the smoothness of me. Every brush of my warm breasts against his rough skin made me gasp. When his finger reached the front of my bra, he teased it for a second, pulling it away from my breasts, stretching the elastic until I thought he was going to rip it clean off me. But he eventually let it relax, though he kept his finger there. “Keep going,” he told me between gritted teeth. His whole body was tense with barely-suppressed need.

  My fingers started up again, working through the buttons until they reached the hem, and then the two halves of my blouse were falling back around me, my arched back thrusting my chest towards him. Without words, he scooped his hands around behind me and I felt them under my blouse, then under my bra strap and—

  I drew in my breath as my bra went loose, then cried out in pleasure as he filled his hands with my breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. “Goddamn,” he grunted in my ear. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you in the arena. Feels just as good as I thought.”

  A dark, hot bolt of energy shot straight down to my groin even as the blush rose in my cheeks. His hands were lifting and pressing my breasts together, luxuriating in the feel of them. Then he ducked down and pressed his face against them—the hot press of his lips and just a touch of his rough grizzle. He groaned and his heated breath on my nipples made me gasp. “Goddamn!” he said again. “You’re perfect.”

  His thumbs found my nipples, rolling them in slow circles, and I felt his eyes on me as they stiffened rapidly under his touch. The heat inside me was twisting and thrashing, now—something about him looking at me, seeing the effect he was having on me. I was utterly helpless—in every sense of the word—under those big hands.

  Bull lowered his head and I realized what he was going to do a half-second before he did it. My eyes flicked to the door—I was already essentially topless but to have him lick my breasts, in such a public place... The door was bolted but I wasn’t sure if there were other ways in, down at the other end of the building.

  I groaned and tried to bend forward as his mouth neared my left nipple, trying instinctively to wrap myself around him and hide myself. But his hands suddenly grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back against the wall, pinning me there. “Stay right there,” he ordered me, and that heavy Texan accent did numbers inside my head—strong but never cruel. It just told me how things were going to be.

  I stayed where I was, lust overwhelming the fear of getting caught. I felt his mouth close around my nipple, his strong lips as powerful as fingers, his tongue lashing and twirling around my hardened nub, pushing it and stroking at it in a way that made my fingers dig hard into his biceps. I threw back my head and moaned as he sucked my breast into his mouth, enveloping me in heat. He started licking a
nd the slow swirls of his tongue made me grind my hips in response. I might as well have been a marionette with him working my strings.

  After a few seconds, he seemed to trust me enough to remain where I was. He dropped one hand to my other breast so he could attend to it, too, and the red fire that was scorching down through me doubled in intensity. My breasts are big—I’ve always been a little self-conscious of them—but in his big hands they felt exactly right. His fingers kneaded with just a little roughness, making me hump my hips towards him and grind my head against the hard wood of the wall. Then he took my nipple between thumb and forefinger and started to pinch—slow and certain. He knew exactly what he was doing. I cried out and he fixed me with his gaze.

  “You like that?” he rasped.

  The heat was bucking and snarling inside me, now, taking on a new and darker form. I stared back at him...and nodded.

  He pinched just a little harder. White-hot starbursts of pleasure and pain joined the rush of heat and I snapped my mouth closed, shutting my eyes, as well.

  He lifted his other hand from my shoulder—I was his, now, and he knew I wasn’t going to move. He stroked my cheek, then rubbed his thumb across my lips, letting me feel the size of him against my softness. He stroked me there three times and then pushed between my lips. I panted through my nose as he touched my teeth, playing his thumb along them. I still had my eyes closed—I didn’t dare open them, because that would mean seeing him and facing up to what I was doing.

  I’d been feeling things I hadn’t for years...but this was different. What he was doing now was something I’d never felt before. I could feel his eyes on me, watching my reaction.

  I opened for him. And then his thumb was in my mouth, stroking across the tip of my tongue, trusting me not to bite. I began to tremble and my breath came in shuddering pants. Every hot gasp of air had to pass around that hard thumb, making it impossible to forget the intimate invasion. It turned every breath I took into a new source of heat. I clamped his thumb lightly with my teeth and he groaned in pleasure.

  And then, even though some distant part of my brain was screaming at me that I shouldn’t, I started to lick at it with the tip of my tongue.

  Bull drew in his breath. He licked my breast twice more and then drew back enough to speak. When the words came, each one was a hot little hurricane against my spit-wet nipple. “Oh,” he said softly. “You’re a bad girl when you get going. Aren’t you, Lily?”

  My cheeks were flaming red, but the heat was racing up and down my body, increasing by the second.

  He moved his hand to the breast he’d been licking and pinched my slickened nipple. “Aren’t you?”

  The silver starbursts stretched out, elongating into shooting stars. I was grinding my hips against him, now, helpless with need. “Uh-huh,” I moaned.

  The thumb withdrew from my mouth. I felt the wet touch of it glance off my bare stomach and then my jeans were being stretched away from my body and the button was popping loose. That did it: the easy little slip of the hard metal through that soft denim hole—we’re actually going to—

  “W—Wait!” I blurted.

  His hands froze.

  I had to swallow a few times before I was capable of speech. My brain, which I’d left many, many miles behind, finally caught up and reminded me of all the reasons I shouldn’t let this happen.

  I twisted out of his grip and turned away from him. “I can’t,” I panted. “Sorry.”

  He was panting, too, his huge chest rising and falling. I could feel the hot waves of frustration rolling off of him. “Why the hell not?”

  I shook my head. I was trying to do my bra up, but my fingers were shaking too hard to manage the clasp. “It’s complicated.”

  He put his huge hand on my shoulder and turned me back to face him again. My breasts were covered by my bra but there was still a lot of exposed skin and every inch of it was suddenly aflame again from the feel of his eyes on it. “Make it simple,” he grunted.

  I couldn’t meet his eyes. I gave up on the bra and looked off to the side as I tried to fasten up my blouse. “It’s not you. I can’t get involved with anyone.”

  “This is the same horseshit you fed me outside Lucky Pete’s. And yet you came back here.”

  I shook my head. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

  He stepped closer, looming over me. “Sooner or later, girl, you’re gonna have to wake up to what you really need. Your brain’s trying to rope in your body but it don’t have a hope.”

  “You won’t see me again,” I said, determined. I’d gotten some buttons fastened, at least. I stalked off towards the door.

  “Lily,” he said as I unbolted it. “Just stay. Stay and talk, goddamnit!”

  He sounded angry, but not in a way that scared me. However frustrated he was, I never feared that he might push things. I just knew I was hurting him, running out on him. Again.

  I swung open the door...and ran.

  As I drove away, I saw him emerge from the stable and stand watching me, lit up by the red glow of my tail lights. He didn’t yell or curse, just stood there staring at me. As if he knew I’d be back.

  As if he knew me better than I knew myself.

  I glanced down at myself, taking stock. My jeans were still unbuttoned. My bra was unfastened and dangling from my breasts. I’d gotten three buttons of my blouse fastened, but only one of them was in the correct hole. My cheeks were flushed and my whole body was throbbing with tormented, desperate sexual heat.

  Goddamn that man, for tempting me into it.

  Goddamn me for running away.

  I slammed the heel of my hand into the steering wheel. Goddamn my uncle, for putting me in this nightmare in the first place.

  Lily

  The next morning, I was up early to go running.

  I have an uneasy relationship with exercise. For weeks and weeks, I’ll do none, while a little voice in my head whispers, louder and louder, that I really need to get off my ass. Finally, to shut it up, I go for a run. At which point, I remember how much I hate running. But then afterwards, I get that brief, satisfied glow—for an hour or a day, I love running. I’ll do this every day, I tell myself. And then I don’t...and after a few weeks the cycle starts again.

  Given the heat, running in Texas means getting up early. This has the added advantage that very few people are around to see me in running gear. My usual route is down the dried-up creek bed, towards the hills, then looping back to the bus along a disused farm track. At first, I used to carry a Taser. After a year of never running into anything more threatening than a lizard, I stopped.

  There was another reason to go running that morning, though. I was due to meet with a new client and I wanted a clear head. Specifically, I wanted to clear my head of Bull.

  It wasn’t easy, though. Every impact of my trail shoes on the hard-packed dirt sent a little shockwave up my legs and into my brain, and the rhythm was disconcertingly similar to the night before. The way I’d arched and ground against him. The way he’d taken my nipple into his mouth—

  Shut up! I pounded along the creek, trying to go faster, hoping that that would help.

  You like that?

  His hands on my breasts. That thick thumb pushing between my lips.

  My legs went faster still, my muscles burning.

  You’re a bad girl when you get going—

  Shut up!

  —aren’t you, Lily?

  It was impossible. Dangerous. No matter how big and strong he was, if he got involved with me there was a good chance he’d wind up dead.

  It wasn’t just the danger I lived with, but the danger a relationship would bring. Avoiding having a life is exactly how I stayed off the radar. I couldn’t even have a Facebook page. How the hell could I have a boyfriend?

  I was panting hard, sweat trickling down the back of my sports top. I’d tied my hair back into a tight ponytail in some sort of unconscious effort to take control and be ruthless and efficient. But beneath my jogging
shorts, the flex and push of my hips was rhythmically rubbing things, making me painfully aware of just how out of control I was.

  Damn him. Damn him, with his muscles and that smile and—

  Goddamnit!

  I reached the end of the creek and started back along the farm track. Sweat was trickling down my forehead and my upper chest gleamed with it. My boobs—difficult to control even with a sports bra—ached and heaved. That was all normal. The fact that my nipples were hard wasn’t. I could feel them pressing into the soft fabric, yearning for the rougher touch of his fingers. God, his hands were so big. If they slid underneath me and gripped my ass, squeezing my cheeks, I’d feel like I was just completely in his hands; he’d just scoop me up off the bed, opening me up, and—

  Shut up!

  I staggered to a stop and bent over, huffing for breath. It was impossible. I couldn’t get him out of my head—the more I tried, the more he was there, strong and arrogant and larger than life. And it wasn’t just the sex. There was something even more disturbing, underneath that. The memory of that horse ride and the way he’d looked at me a few times, especially as the sun had gone down. A different kind of intimacy, one that maybe I needed even more.

  That was the real reason I couldn’t be with him. Even if I could somehow enjoy a one-time roll in the hay and then walk away—and I wasn’t sure I could—it already felt like more than that. Which was nuts, because if there was one thing I’d learned from seeing him in Lucky Pete’s and reading his Facebook page, it was that Bull didn’t fall for anyone—he was a rutting, pumping sex machine, and that was it. Why on earth would I think he might develop feelings for me? Because I liked him in that way myself? A thousand slimmer, prettier girls probably thought the same thing. I’ll be the one he falls for.

  I snorted in contempt at myself. And then gave a hard little laugh. Looking down at myself, all sweat and curves, the idea was ridiculous.

  I forced myself forward, jogging the rest of the way back to the bus. I’d spectacularly failed to get Bull out of my head, but at least I’d decided that I’d done the right thing, the night before. Now I had to focus on the meeting. In my line of work, acting like a lovesick fool is a good way to get killed.