Big Guns Out of Uniform

by Nicole Camden

  She looked at him a little skeptically. “Why, Mr. Woodruff, what big words you have.”

  Her tone held just enough sarcasm to make something inside him snap. “Hey, all the better to tell you to kiss my ass with,” he retorted, shoving off the stool.

  Delia’s eyes widened. “What—?” she demanded. “What did I say?”

  Nick paced toward the Triumph. “You know, I don’t know where you get off pretending like I just fell off the turnip truck, Delia,” he said. “Maybe I don’t have a wall full of degrees like you and Mr. Tummy-Tuck, but I don’t appreciate your dismissive tone.”

  He heard her chair legs hit the concrete, heard her soft footsteps follow him. “Hey, come on, now,” she said, touching him lightly on the arm. “I’m sorry. You surprised me, Nick. That’s all.”

  Nick wheeled on her. “Just for the record, sweetheart, I’ve got a couple of master’s degrees myself,” he snapped. “Sometimes—say, when I run out of bad guys to randomly gun down—all those big words come in handy. After all, there’s always the crossword puzzle in the TV Guide.”

  Delia looked up at him. “Okay, maybe I deserved that,” she said, holding up one hand, palm out. “But sometimes I just need—”

  “The only thing you need, Delia, is a good fucking,” he interjected, tossing his beer bottle in the trash barrel. “Maybe then you could lighten up a little.”

  Delia let her gaze drift over him. “Oh, and you’re just the man to give it to me, huh?”

  “You’re goddamned right I am,” he returned.

  Delia put her beer down on the roof of his Triumph and was quiet for a long moment. “You know what?” she said, her voice suddenly lower. “You just might be right, Nick. Lord knows you get under my skin. I just wish I had time for a relationship right now.”

  Nick set his hands on her upper arms. “Darlin’, I’m not offering you a relationship,” he growled. “I don’t want one. What I’m offering you is sex.”

  Delia didn’t pull away from him. “Sex?” she echoed. “That no-strings-attached kind, right?”

  “Damn, Delia, if you don’t drive me crazy,” he said, jerking her closer. “Yeah, the no-strings kind. Why? You holding out for a wedding ring?”

  She blushed furiously. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted. “I just—I just—”

  He was on her before Delia drew her next breath, before he realized what he was doing.

  And then he felt Delia’s mouth crushed beneath his, felt her struggle just for an instant in his arms. Nick had her trapped against the bumper of the Triumph, the full length of her body pressed to his. Unconsciously he gave a groan of desire and slanted his mouth over hers again.

  God, she tasted of cold beer and warm woman, spicy-sweet and awfully tempting. She was a pain in the ass, but he wanted her too much to care. Delia certainly wasn’t resisting. She had her hands around his waist, moving them restlessly over the muscles of his back, and when her lips softened, Nick thrust inside her mouth with his tongue and felt his blood surge hot and strong. He sensed Delia yielding to him, melting against him.

  With a sound of pleasure in her throat, her arms locked around his neck, and it was like molten testosterone pulsed through the veins in his temples and his cock. Nick moved inside her mouth with firm, deep strokes, claiming her. Together, they slid deeper into the sensual abyss as he swirled his tongue around hers, sucking it and drawing it into his mouth.

  It was frightening how fast he fell. Dark, mindless desire clouded his brain. Nick moved his hands over Delia, filling them with her breasts, her face, her slender waist. “God, I have to have you,” he breathed against her cheek as he bent her back. “I want you so bad I’m insane from it. I want you under me, Delia. I want you in my bed, woman, open beneath me, taking me deep. Say yes, Delia. For God’s sake, say yes now.”

  “Oh, God, Nick.” The words were faint, breathless.

  The yes wasn’t there yet, but her desire was audible, urging him on. He let his hands slide beneath the elastic waist of her shorts, down and down until he’d grasped her buttocks and lifted her against the bulky length of his erection. In response, Delia’s head tipped back, and she arched her body taut as a bowstring.

  “Yes,” she finally whispered. “All right. Do it. I want it. God, Nick, just—”

  He surged inside her mouth again, and forced her back against the hood of the TriumPh. Delia’s beer bottle tipped over and hit the concrete floor. Without lifting his mouth from hers, Nick shoved up her sweatshirt, then pushed away her bra. Delia’s breasts, warm and small, seemed to swell in his hands, filling them.

  A little roughly he thumbed her nipples and felt her shudder beneath him. He knew he should be gentle, knew he should slow down. He couldn’t. Couldn’t. “God,” he said, tearing his mouth from hers and going to her breast. “I have to taste you. Then make love to you.”

  Delia felt a jolt of raw lust when Nick’s mouth molded over her nipple, hard, hot, and hungry. A torrent of emotions washed over her, fear and need. Doubt. Desire. Lust. For long dark moments he sucked, the rough stubble of his beard abrading her flesh. And then Nick drew one nipple into his teeth and bit. The pain was wildly arousing, like nothing she’d ever experienced. She screamed softly, felt her body bow up again, and felt the damp heat of desire between her thighs.

  More. She wanted more. Her breath came fast and shallow as she tore the tails of his shirt from his jeans, and let her hands roam over him. His chest was layered in muscle, his nipples hard, too. She ached, oh, God, she ached and wanted…wanted him now. Wanted what he promised; to be open beneath him, taking him deep. The urge was so primal, Delia scarcely felt him drag her shorts and panties down. Then the metal of the car hood was cold against her back, jolting her at least partway to reality.

  “Nick?” she whispered. “Here?”

  “Here, Delia,” he ordered, one hand going to his fly. “Now.”

  Expertly he loosened the button and slid the zipper down. He dragged Delia’s hips down the hood and pushed her thighs wide. His penis sprang free of his briefs, hot and satiny against her belly.

  Oh, God, thought Delia, what am I doing?

  But her mouth couldn’t form the word stop. Her clitoris had flipped the Disengage Brain switch, and the rest of her body was roaring on. Nick dragged her farther down the car hood, and Delia felt his hand touch her inner thigh, making her jump.

  Unhesitatingly he slid his fingers into the folds of her flesh, into the incredible wetness. “Good God, Delia,” he growled. “So hot. So pink and pretty.” With his fingers, he slid back and forth until his hand brushed her clitoris. “Sweet little clit,” he whispered, nipping at the flesh of her neck. “Ah, Delia, I want to taste it. Suck it. But I can’t wait.”

  “Don’t,” she rasped. “Don’t wait, Nick. Do it. Oh, God, do it before I chicken out.”

  Nick leaned over her, snaring one of her wrists in his big hand, and forcing her thighs wide with his body. He watched intently as his shaft probed her and slid inside, spreading her open. She needed it all. Wanted to ride down hard on his cock. Fisting her hand greedily in his hair, she said so, begged him, and began to move.

  “Oh, no, baby,” he rasped. “Oh, God. Hold still, Delia.”

  He eased inside another inch. And another. Delia opened her eyes. Nick’s face was a mask of agony. His cock was shoving into her now, slowly spreading her, pinning her to the car’s hood like a butterfly, wings open and beautiful. And strangely, she felt beautiful. She almost didn’t care if someone was watching. The incongruity of what she was doing simply did not strike her. She knew only that she wanted Nick, wanted him deep, deep inside her.

  “Jesus Christ, Delia,” he grunted. “Tight, baby. So tight.”

  “Please, Nick, please,” she begged. “More. All the way.”

  “Go easy, darlin’,” he choked. “Almost.”

  And then Nick pushed the rest of his shaft inside, filling her, shocking her. There was so much, so deep, it should have hurt. It didn’t. Wit
h a grunt of satisfaction, Nick set his hands at her waist and urged her down against him. Then he captured both her hands, shoving them high over her head, and moved back and forth inside her.

  Delia had never experienced anything so decadent in her life. This was not normal lovemaking. It was exhibitionism and hedonism and wild animal sex, just as he’d promised, and Delia knew she should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Because Nick was pumping himself in and out of her now, rhythmically forcing her body against the cold metal of the car as he drove her down and down, holding her hands tight, forcing her thighs wide, and blotting out all reality as he plunged her into the dark, swirling desire of his making.

  Over and over, he stroked her. Rode her, his hard thighs working, his concentration absolute. The metal hood of the Triumph buckled and popped, its front suspension squeaking like old bedsprings. Nick had just the right rhythm, just the right angle, and he moved on her as if he could last forever.

  Delia sensed that Nick left his mark on a woman, that tomorrow she’d still know she’d been with him. With every movement of her body, every breath she drew, Delia would know that Nick Woodruff had been inside her. Branded her. There was just so much of him, it was almost overwhelming. She had never known sex could be like this. Chaotic and wild. Wonderfully inexorable. And it was then, just as Delia felt bliss begin to edge near, that an awful truth hit her. A truth she’d denied, intellectually, a thousand times.

  Size did matter.

  Oh, God, it mattered a lot.

  That was her last thought before lightning struck, and Delia screamed her release, surging and pulsing around Nick’s cock.

  When Delia came to—and it seemed as if she drifted for a long, long time—something felt vaguely wrong. It took her a moment to realize that inside her, Nick wasn’t moving. At all. She opened her eyes to see his were squeezed shut. “Nick?”

  Nick had let go of her hands. Still up to the hilt inside her, he now held Delia gently around the waist, his thumbs nearly touching above her belly button. “Nick?” she said again.

  Nick just shook his head, and spoke one word, his voice fraught with agony. “Condom.”

  Delia’s head fell back against the car hood with a metallic thud. “Oh, holy shit.”

  Good God, how could they have been so stupid? she wondered. Either of them? Too late now. Nick was making a low, mournful sound, like a dog whimpering to be let in from the cold, then suddenly, he lifted his body away. Delia sat up on the car hood just in time to see him hitch up his jeans and walk off. Dazed and confused, she jerked her clothes back into place, and slid off the Triumph’s hood. “Wait, Nick!” she said. “You can’t…can’t just…”

  But he could. And by God, he was. With a determined pace, Nick was striding across his backyard, his jeans still unzipped, and slithering halfway off his narrow hips.

  Delia knew at once where he was headed. “No, Nick!” she cried. “No! Don’t do it!”

  But he did, pausing just long enough to toe off his sneakers and shuck his jeans. Delia was already running when Nick hit the water with a splash.

  Delia dashed to the edge of the pool and peered over the edge. Nick was floating on his back, his chambray shirt billowing about him in the water, his cotton briefs snug, and now almost flat, across the groin.

  “Well, that problem’s solved,” he said, wiping his plastered hair off his face. “This shit’s so cold, I’ll never see my dick again.”

  “Oh, man, I can not believe you just did that,” said Delia, falling to her knees by the water. “Is this thing heated?”

  “Barely,” said Nick, rolling into a dog paddle. “That’s the whole idea, sugar.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” said Delia, standing up and dropping her shorts. She hit the water gracelessly, splashing water over Nick. The cold shocked her body and sucked the wind from her lungs. Delia came up gasping. “Oh, shit! This is f-f-freezing!”

  Nick was already laughing. “What did you jump in for?”

  Delia pushed the sopping hair from her eyes. “It seemed only fair,” she said, paddling toward him. The water wasn’t deep, thank God. Nick caught her by the waist and pulled her close. Delia was already shivering.

  Nick laughed again and kissed her nose. “You’re still wearing your Keds, you idiot.”

  “Oh, Nick,” she said, setting her forehead against the top of his shoulder. “Why did you do that?”

  Nick shook his head. “Had to do something,” he said. Delia could hear the words rumbling in his chest. “Come on, let’s get out of here and into the hot tub.”

  Turning, he planted his hands on the edge of the pool, hefted himself smoothly up, then hauled her out like a sopping dishcloth. They were a comical pair, thought Delia, dripping on the edge of Nick’s pool. Her sweatshirt and panties clung to her body. Nick still wore his socks and briefs, and his shirt was plastered to his chest. But beneath his briefs, Delia could still make out the generous shape of his penis. No hiding that, no siree.

  “Delia, darlin’,” said Nick. “D’you know you’re staring at my cock again?”

  Delia jerked her head up and blushed.

  “Gotcha,” he said, grinning. “Last one in’s a rotten egg.”

  Nick dashed toward the hot tub and shoved off the cover. Delia followed, kicking off her Keds and following him in. The scalding water surged around her knees as she went down the steps. Nick floated against the wall and pulled Delia to him, her back to his chest.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, hitching his chin over her shoulder. “I’m sorry I did that. I lost my mind.”

  Delia turned in his arms. After the chill of Nick’s pool, the hot tub was incredibly soothing. “Oh, Nick, I feel just awful,” she said, unable to look him in the eyes.

  Nick slid a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. His eyes were sober, reluctant. “Hey, I started it,” he said. “I just wasn’t thinking, you know? But I could have gotten you pregnant. Or something a lot worse than that, for all you know.”

  But it was the pregnancy notion that had shocked him, at least in part. Delia could see the concern in his eyes. “Nick, listen to me, I won’t get pregnant. It’s not that time. But the other thing, God, you’re right. We both lost control. But I want to trust you. It’s naive, I know, coming from someone like me.”

  Stubbornly Nick shook his head. “But do you trust the woman I screwed last Wednesday? Or the guy she’d been with the week before?”

  Delia stared at him, her eyes wide.

  “Gotcha,” said Nick again. “There wasn’t anyone last Wednesday. Or last month. Hell, maybe not even last year. After making love to you, I can’t remember having any other women.”

  “Liar,” said Delia softly.

  Nick chuckled and pulled her close again. “Good point, darlin’,” he said. “I might be a liar. See, you don’t know, do you?”

  Delia smiled a little weakly. “Oh, I understand,” she said softly. “A little too well, maybe. And all I can say is that this stuff is a lot easier to deal with on a radio talk show.”

  “Yeah, there, you’re the intellectual professor,” murmured Nick, his eyes drifting over her. “Here, you’re a very sensual woman, driven by your needs just like the rest of us.”

  “You’re right,” she whispered, letting herself sag against him. She’d just taken one hell of a risk, and she of all people ought to know better. Next time, she swore, they would be careful. And she was already hoping there was a next time. “God, Nick, do you know how good you are?” she asked as the hot water swirled around them.

  Nick touched her lightly on the cheek. “Delia, baby, that wasn’t good,” he whispered. “That was pathetic. I screwed you in broad daylight on the hood of a broken-down ’68 Triumph, and did a damned sorry job of it.”

  Delia laughed. “So I should have held out for a Ferrari?”

  Laughing, Nick slid one hand around to cup her behind. “Stay with me, Delia,” he said, dropping his voice an octave. “Let me show you what really fine se
x is. Let me teach you what a passionate creature you are. Just give in to me tonight. And I swear, I’ll do a better job.”

  Delia closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest. She was afraid—afraid it really might get better. “Oh, Nick,” she whispered. “You scare me a little.”

  She felt him nuzzle the top of her head. “I won’t hurt you, darlin’,” he reassured her. “Look, why don’t you go inside and start warming up my bed? And as soon as I get back, I’ll handcuff you to the headboard and give you a proper loving.”

  Somehow, the handcuff remark didn’t even phase her. “You’re leaving?”

  “Off to Kroger’s,” he said, giving her rump a good squeeze. “To pick up a couple of steaks, some wine, and a dozen condoms.”

  Delia looked up at him. “A dozen?” she squeaked.

  Nick winked at her. “Don’t fret, sugar,” he said. “I can get more tomorrow.”

  Chapter Five

  Tomorrow, he had said.

  So maybe this wasn’t a one-night stand? Delia pondered that possibility as she watched Nick back his black pickup out of his drive and roar off in the direction of the local strip mall. Suddenly she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about continuing to have sex with him. Her heart was still tripping dangerously, and Nick Woodruff just didn’t look like a long-term bet.

  Well, did she look long-term? No, probably not. She was too career-driven. Too afraid of failure to slow down. Admittedly, that had been a part of what had ruined her marriage. But Nick had made it plain he wanted sex, not a relationship. What he offered her was pure, physical satisfaction. The chance to explore her more carnal side—with someone who was really, really good at it. The man had not been bragging.

  Feeling a little lost, Delia stood in the middle of Nick’s bedroom, wearing nothing but one of his chambray work shirts. He’d thrown all their clothes in the dryer and tucked Delia into his bed before heading off to Kroger. But Delia had climbed out at once, too restless to lie still. Now, in her bare feet, she roamed through the empty house. Empty save for Nick’s cats, Click and Clack.