Lauren

by Mima

  “Simone says take off your shirt.”

  He peeled it off, the wet fabric clinging to his muscled body. He was golden all over, with a heavier bronze around his throat and arms. Soft brown hairs crinkled lightly across his chest.

  “Uhhh . . .” She simply could not think of anything with his massive wall of flesh in her face. He was huge, tall, wide, deep-chested.

  But he waited for her.

  She gathered her thoughts, gestured vaguely at him. “Unbutton your fly.”

  He strode forward and picked her up around the waist. Setting her against a tree with gentleness, he grinned up at her and winked. “You don’t play so good.”

  Then he closed his mouth over the tip of her breast. He laved and sucked at it until her orange T-shirt turned pumpkin. She hung in his strong grip, shivering and twisting as he used teeth through the cloth. When he finished, she had a perfect dark wet spot over a tight, furled nipple.

  He let her slide down the tree. “Try again.”

  Panting, she said, “Simone says undo your pants. All the way.”

  He took a stride back and unbuttoned himself slowly. He had briefs on, and she could see the fat crown of an erection pushing out against the soft cotton below the tight waist band. He crossed his arms.

  She peeled her T-shirt up and off, tossing it to the ground. “Simone says she wants to ride her cowboy so he should go get a condom.”

  He went to Wheezy and opened his pack. His shoulders were so wide. His open jeans hung on the curve of his ass. He held up a condom and wiggled his eyebrows.

  She laughed. He bowed. She beckoned. He shook his head.

  Huffing a sigh, she demanded, “Simone says get your ass over here and—”she pointed to a mossy rock that had a slight incline—“sit there.”

  He sat, laying the shiny foil square in a patch of sunlight where it shone like a beacon.

  “Pull—Simone says—pull your jeans and undies down.”

  He inched his ass up and slid the cloth down to his thighs. “Undies? Really?”

  She couldn’t spar with him, because he was too beautiful. He was rugged and solid all over. Every hard, erect inch. Every thick, strong inch. Of which there were many.

  She walked over to him and knelt in the ferns. The waterfall was loud and the scent of fresh plants and earth and water intoxicatingly exotic. Mist touched her bare shoulders and she shivered. She was going to have sex with this gentle, playful cowboy. Vacations were great.

  Setting one hand on his thigh, she shyly began to feel his skin. Muscled, lean, with crisp hair. His flank was smooth, bonier. His ribs powerful, flexing. His nipple small and beaded. She pinched it. His pec flexed but he remained still.

  Coasting up over the curve of his shoulder, Lauren checked his face. His gaze was on her chest, his lids hooded over his eyes, blinking lazily as she petted him. Cupping his biceps, she slid down to his corded forearm where it braced beside his thigh on the rock.

  She hesitated.

  He rocked his hips up, and the erection bobbed as if it were separate from him.

  She gently closed her fingers around him. He was hot. The textures of men were so strange. The give, the hidden steel, the veins, the scent, the dry soft skin. She explored, panting, thinking that she’d let this flesh join with her soon.

  Surging to stand, she shed her jeans, frantically. He helped balance her and she kicked them off. Handing him the condom revealed her fingers were shaking. “Put it on.”

  “Heck, now I think you’re just doin’ it on purpose.” He set it aside and drew her into his lap, scooping her up with that same raw strength and settling her down sideways. His erection burned into her hip. She stared at him as he gently combed her sticky hair off her face, hooking it behind her ears. Then he slid one leg higher against her back and began to lower her shoulders until she arched over it, head hanging to view the upside-down waterfall.

  His mouth closed over her breast with a soft sucking stroke, like he was eating an ice cream cone. “Too many slips, Miss Lauren. I think you aren’t cut out for playing. I won’t force it on you any longer, but I think I deserve one small punishment for tormenting me.”

  His teeth set around the outer edge of her nipple, and then his tongue began to press and swirl and lash at her tip. His lips were firm and nimble. Her hands clamped into his damp hair. She twisted, but he held her to him, boxed in his big arms.

  The pleasure sang across her chest. “Oh, God.”

  He didn’t stop. He sucked and nipped. Her belly went tight and her shoulders ached from pushing then pulling at his head, but it went on and on, making her other breast ache, making her wet.

  “Enough!” What was his name again? He wouldn’t stop. It was too much, too intense. “Walt!”

  Humming, he scored her with his teeth, lapped and kissed with his huge, scalding open jaw.

  “Unhhh—Uncle!”

  He stopped. Her whole body shuddered, from her nape down to her curled toes. He swung her off his lap and set her beside him as if she was a sack of potatoes. Then he picked up the condom and rolled it down his—impossibly—longer, harder cock. The thick head of him was so big it stretched the latex until it was transparent.

  “What now, Fairy Queen? Want to mount me here? The waterfall would make us hurt so good. Or you seemed to enjoy being up against the tree.”

  Her legs were trembling. Her hand cupped her raw breast protectively. She was about one sensation away from coming. In a shaky, crouching crawl, she made her way up onto his lap again. This time she straddled him, her knees grinding into the muddy moss.

  He gathered her up and kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, Miss Lauren.” He leaned back, bracing on straight arms in a way that made his chest seem like a feast.

  Swallowing, she walked her palms up his solid height until she was over him, then lowered herself back down, swinging her hips to find and trap and guide him into her soaked folds.

  Dropping her forehead onto the middle of his chest, she slowly pushed him into her body, using her weight to slide his girth inside. It had been awhile, and he was freaking huge. When he was packed inside her, her teeth chattered.

  “What’s this?” Walt asked softly.

  “C-can’t move.”

  “Ah.” He leaned farther back on his elbows. Since the rock wasn’t big enough for him to lie out on, he had to hold his head up. He spread his boots to brace, then he tossed his hips up.

  She gasped, grabbing at his ribs. He thrust again, jarring up into her.

  “Oh!” She stared at him, feeling like her eyes would pop out of her head.

  His were mere slits of shimmering green. He thrust his hips, her body lurching on top of him. Grabbing with her thighs and pushing herself up for better balance, she met his next thrust with a little grind of her own.

  His jaw snapped close, his lips pulling back from his clenched teeth. “Yeah. Ride.”

  Oh. My. God. Heat cramped her stomach and thighs and shoulders. Her breasts bounced, her shin slid against moss, sun dappled over both of them, and he was in her so deep. Tightening her inner muscles hard, she rode his increasing thrusts. His abs were a virtual washboard—and the heat climbed, winding tighter.

  They were tossing wildly together when he burst first. “Uhh!” was the soft grunt of defeat from him as his head fell back, exposing his strong throat. His body went still, locked. Impossibly, she could feel him swell, stretching wider and longer until her body pinched.

  Desperate not to lose the peak, she dragged her mound over his hard groin in a tight circle. The sun exploded in her eyes as her own head tossed back. It was brilliant, hard, and stunning.

  When she fell forward, he caught her, gathering her for a gentler fall against his chest as he sat up. One hand cradled her nape, the other went around her waist. She clutched at his shoulders.

  Their breathing screamed wild
and harsh, then slowly calmed. He helped her come up on her knees, letting him slide from her body in a gush of sticky, fragrant wet, but then she lost her balance and ended up collapsed in the ferns.

  “Ah. You okay?”

  She nodded, letting her arm flop from his grip. A white butterfly flitted past. Whew. What a day.

  “Leave it off, Tom.”

  His lips parted, his face growing dearly familiar with his sudden passion. “You’re serious.”

  “One of your first instincts was to take it off, to get close to me.” To feel. To remember. To learn. It’s where she’d been headed all day. Maybe she was psychic.

  She reached out a hand and laid it over his heart. It kicked hard against her touch. The strength of it rolled thunder up her arm. She’d lain over this heartbeat, fallen asleep to it, synched her own to it.

  “Oh, Tom. Why? Why did you do it? Why did the two of you break my heart?”

  He shook his head. The shirt fell to the floor. “I barely remember. It was too long ago, and all that’s mattered is how much I missed you. I was so alone without you.”

  He didn’t remember?

  He stepped up and kissed her. It was deep and strong, striving for a connection. The first time they’d kissed, she’d been stunned, awed. This time she felt strange.

  Tentatively, she moved her mouth against his, liking the strength, liking the warmth of him.

  “Did you miss me, Lauren?” He kissed across her cheek, and just as she ducked her head shyly at the sweet touch, he went on to her ear. His mouth took her ear, covering it with wet lips and open jaw. His tongue swirled and his teeth scored the upper rim, then he sucked on her lobe.

  She twisted her head away, her ear damp and tingling. She stared up at him, confused.

  “Oh, God. Look at those blue eyes. Every sunny day haunted me because of those eyes.” He clasped her neck and tipped her head masterfully to the side. His mouth was wild on her throat, his tongue sweeping before nips.

  She shivered, all tangled inside between shock and passion. “Tommm—”

  Her brain wanted to finish with his old name, but she suddenly felt like she had a stranger in her arms. His hand pulled her robe down over her shoulder. He kissed her collarbone, followed it out to the round of her shoulder. She looked at him, his brown hair tousled, his face both remembered yet different.

  She grabbed at his shoulders. “Tom, wait. Stop.”

  He lifted his head. His green gaze was blind, and seeing the blatant need on his face thrilled something inside her, but her pride reared up in outrage. She’d wanted to touch and explore and reconnect, but clearly he had already moved ten paces beyond her.

  She licked her lips, worried about what she started. “You want to . . . be with me? Tonight?”

  “I’ve never stopped dreaming about you. I masturbate to memories of you. I ache for you.”

  She sucked in a harsh breath. “What happened between you and Sorrel? After I saw you?”

  He shook his head, clearly confused. His thumb traced the hollow below her collarbone. “Sorrel? There was never anything between us. We spoke a few times, screamed at each other a few times.”

  “So . . . did you and she ever have sex?”

  “No!” His face crumpled up in frustration. “Lauren. I don’t want to talk about her. God, it was all so stupid. Just some sexual jealousy, some sort of minor fantasy she spun.” He grabbed her close, hugged her. “You threw me away so completely. It destroyed me.”

  Destroyed him? Him? Heat flared through Lauren.

  “You prick.” She struggled out of his embrace. “You cheating, lame prick.” She clasped her head in her hands, fury flooding her. “Is this whole reunion about sex? Still?” She stood rigid, her hands in fists.

  He reached for her face with both hands, but she twisted away and stepped to the foot of the bed.

  “No, this isn’t about sex. It’s about the fact that you were—are—the woman I want to spend my life with. You’re the only true friend I ever knew. You’re the only person to ever really see me. And then after one stupid human moment you tossed me away with so much hate I thought you must be schizophrenic.”

  “What!” she screeched. “You betrayed me.”

  He crossed his arms, which was surprisingly distracting without his shirt. “From where I stand, your utter inability to show hope or forgiveness was a far worse betrayal.”

  She blinked at him. “No.”

  He raised one brow. “Yes. Where’s my grandmother’s ring, Lauren?”

  She staggered back. “I threw it in the ocean.”

  He nodded. “Thought so. God, you’re so cruel.”

  That old rickety coffin she’d built rattled and shook inside her. Heat and hurt and rage swelled in her throat. She wanted to curse and slap his face. Her lips tingled, her nipples were hard, and she shrugged her robe back up onto her shoulder.

  “And the hell of it is”—he laughed bitterly—“is that I still think of you all the time.”

  I think of you, too.

  “I’m still hung up on you, on what we had.”

  I know. Me, too.

  “I was about two minutes into your presence and the attraction nearly blew me off my feet. It’s like you’re the only sexual option for me.”

  Well, maybe not that.

  Fury still seethed in her belly. She worked her clenched fists, but they refused to relax. But yes, the attraction was there and it was more than memory.

  Tom turned and stalked to the back wall, his hands thrust into his hair. He paced back to her and blew out in exasperation. “I was going to talk to you. I was going to make sure you were reassured, that this stayed about now, not then. And then you told me to leave my shirt off and I went nuts.”

  Lauren crossed her arms. Then, recognizing the defensive posture, she dropped them. Tom was muscled, still lean. Only a little belly showed at the top of his fashionable slim jeans that were finished with a braided black leather belt.

  He huffed when he saw her staring at his hips and adjusted himself in his pants. “What’s going on here, Lauren?”

  She was obsessed with why they’d betrayed her and he could barely remember it. He felt more betrayed than she, told her she was cruel. And he still wanted her, still sought her. She launched herself at him, wrapped both arms around his head and kissed him angrily, passionately. He closed strong arms around her and returned her fire with just as much heat.

  Frustrated at his greater height, she pulled on his belt buckle, fighting with it. His hands grabbed fistfuls of her robe against her back, tugging it roughly against her.

  Their heads slanted back and forth, wet sounds filling the room.

  “Lauren. Oh, god.”

  She managed to get the belt open and worked on his fly, opening it to reveal boxers. They’d never been able to contain his erection. “Oh, Tom. You stupid man.”

  His hands cupped her shoulders from behind, worming to get the robe down her shoulders. This trapped her arms, but since she was focused in front of her, on getting into his underwear, she didn’t mind.

  “You cruel bitch.” He lapped at her jawline.

  “Oh!” She attacked his throat, eating hard kisses down the muscle there, delighting in using her teeth harder than she’d ever had with any other lover.

  He hissed, pulling her closer. “It was Sorrel. Not me. God, I can’t believe you just walked out on everything.”

  She ate her way in a blaze of red welts to his chest. His muscle was so much thicker there, much more satisfying to chew on. She found one nipple and devoured it. He tasted like pine and city, like memory and discovery.

  “How dare you blame her? Sorrel never forced you to hold her half-naked body.” She switched to his other nipple, swirling around it with her tongue as hard as she could. “You were kissing her, too.”

  “One kiss was
worth chucking years of beautiful love?” He fisted her hair and pulled hard enough to bow her backwards, scalp smarting in a way that sent tingles all the way down to her butt.

  “That’s what I should ask you.”

  He turned them, licking up her throat, and they fell together on the bed. His weight bounced on top of her.

  “Tom. I’m not sure who you even are. I stopped liking you. I don’t even know what I’m doing.” She dug her grip into his waist, fighting to pull his pants down over his hips.

  “Shut up.” He stood for a minute, stripped off his jeans. Rummaging in his wallet, he pulled out a condom and put it on with abrupt movements. Kneeling onto the bed, straddling her thighs, he jerked the already loose robe open. “Fuck.”

  Tom had rarely cursed. But as he straddled her and fisted himself, pulling his head tight in hard strokes, she whispered the sentiment right back. “Fuck.”

  He bent over her, his mouth blazing across her breasts, harsh and stinging. She cried out, arching, holding him, pushing him away, clawing his chest and shoulders with her long nails. The room was spinning. She was soaked.

  “I never stopped loving you. It was always you. Lauren. Lauren.” His mouth set hard on the underside of her breast and he sucked hard, then again, and again.

  She kicked her feet, arching so that she lifted his body up with hers, but he remained locked against her, sucking a bruise into her skin. “You have no right to say that! You kissed her!”

  He yanked one thigh up against his hip. It was shockingly hot, smooth, and she hooked her foot up onto his ass.

  “You are such a bitch.” He ground his erection across her belly, rolled himself against her mound.

  Perfection.

  He thrust into the soaked groove of her folds. “Eight years I’ve waited for you. I paid for that stupid kiss.”

  They kissed again, deeply, mouths matched perfectly, and his cock notched against her. They both went rigid, breaking apart.

  “Don’t you dare say anything romantic,” she hissed.