Headlong

by Shannon McKenna

  They stared at each other. He didn’t dare to breathe.

  Demi barely moved, but on some level, he felt the energy shift as a deep, wordless impulse nudged her forward again. Oh so slowly…leaning toward him. More.

  Fuck yeah. Anything. As much as he could get.

  He slid his hand into the warmth of her open jacket to snag her waist and tug her closer. She responded by climbing over the center console to straddle him, face to face. Pressing her soft sexy heat against his stiff, aching cock. Pure, agonizing bliss.

  She smelled so good. A vital, flowery hot sweetness that made him drunk and desperate. Her full, luscious lips opened against his, her tongue flicking, dancing with his. Her hair fell around them like a fragrant cape. He wanted to rip her clothes off. Touch and grip and tongue every part of her. All the details that had haunted his dreams for seven goddamn years.

  She was trying to get a grip his leather jacket, but her hands kept slipping on the thick, damp surface. He wanted to feel the clutch of her hands. He took a second to shrug it off and she seized him immediately, fingers sliding into his short hair, clutching the back of his neck as he kissed her ravenously.

  He felt like he’d die if he took his mouth away.

  She was so smooth. Lithe and hot. Her soft, lush tits right under his face. She moved on him, rubbing her ass seductively against the stiff bulge of his cock. Staring into his eyes. That look of fearless challenge in her eyes made him burn.

  “You’re all hot and sweaty,” she said. “From that stupid caveman fight.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “That was a dumb thing to do.”

  “Yeah. Right. Absolutely.” He would have agreed to anything with Demi undulating over him like that. Kissing him like she wanted to eat him up.

  He ran his hand down over the curve of her hip, settling it on top of her thigh, hyper-alert for signs that he was pushing too hard. Overcompensating for all the missed chances, the hopeless wanting.

  She wasn’t pulling back. She rose up on her knees, arms around his neck, clutching his back, nails digging in as their desperate, furious kiss raged on. She ground her hips over him, and the breathless, gasping sounds she made were so sexy, he was about to come then and there.

  He leaned away, gasping for air. “Wait a second. Let’s pace ourselves. You’re going to make me explode.”

  “Nope.” Demi just shrugged off her jacket, tossing it behind her, and pushed up her shirt, revealing the smooth curves of her belly and a fresh cloud of her hot perfume. “I don’t feel like waiting.”

  “You’re killing me,” he ground out, sucking in air as her hips pulsed sensually.

  “Suffer,” she whispered, lifting the shirt higher, above her low-cut, lace-trimmed bra. Her gorgeous tits spilled out. Tight nipples pressed the sheer fabric. “Fight for it.”

  God, yeah. He was all over her, hands, lips. Cupping the plump, heavy curves of her breasts. Her velvety heat overwhelmed him. The taste of her skin against his lips.

  Her breath stuttered off as he dragged the stretchy cups down to free her nipples, licking and nuzzling hungrily. She moved sinuously in his grasp, gasping for air.

  So sweet. So hot. Her hair, coiled against his chest, his face.

  He went at her belt with shaking fingers, jerking it open. Then the buttons of her jeans. He couldn’t pull them down far the way she was straddling him, but he got them down far enough to admire her sheer black lacy panties and slide his hand down inside to stroke her mound right above her clit, circling and teasing.

  She danced against his hand, pushing herself against him, and pushed her own jeans down farther. He pressed his face against her breasts, licking and suckling as he teased his finger beneath the elastic and delicately probed inside against her hot, silky pussy lips, sliding along the length of her tender folds. She grabbed his wrist and pushed against him with a wordless moan, demanding more.

  So he gave it to her, sliding slowly into a tight, clinging paradise. Slowly finger-fucking her while he suckled her breasts, her collarbone her shoulders. He liked how her nails dug into him. The sweet sting of her hunger.

  She could have anything she wanted. He was helpless to deny her. She was so responsive. Those moans and sighs and arching shivers of pleasure with each bold caress and the hot liquid kiss of her pussy around his fingers was driving him crazy. He diddled her clit with his thumb. Slowly, slowly…around and around…right there, that was the place. He insisted and insisted…doubling down on the perfect sweet spot, listening to her body with every cell in him, waiting for the moment…and oh holy fuck, yesyesyes…

  She went rigid with a sharp gasp. Made a tight, keening sound. Her pussy clutched his fingers hard with every wrenching jolt of pleasure.

  So sweet. Oh please, yes. He could do this for-fucking-ever.

  When it finally subsided, she was draped over him, limp and trembling. Damp with sweat. He waited patiently until she looked up into his eyes.

  Then, deliberately, he slid his hand out from between her legs, and sucked his fingers, licking off every lingering bit of her hot sex juice.

  She tasted so right. Rich and sweet and sexy. Perfect. Ready for him.

  “Please,” he said thickly. “Let me lick you. Let me fuck you. Make you come ten more times. Or a hundred. Please.”

  She drew in an unsteady breath, reached down, and jerked up her jeans, buttoning them. Buckling her belt. Tugging down her shirt. Shaking back her hair.

  “Not yet,” she said. “Too easy.

  Stopping right there, when she wanted so desperately to continue, took more willpower than anything Demi had ever done. It would have been so easy and perfect to tear off all her clothes and just mount up, letting the cool night air caress her bare ass. Shirt hiked up, her breasts bouncing in his face as she rode his thick, hard cock all the way to sweaty, screaming completion. Right there in her own car. Oh God, yes.

  But she was so close to losing control. The windows were all fogged up, her hands shook, her body shook. She felt mortifyingly close to tears. Which was unthinkable.

  And she had to be careful with him. Everything had to be just so. Studied and staged and planned. Choreographed down to the last move. It would be very tricky, to get what she craved while keeping her inner self locked up safe and tight.

  She could not let herself be vulnerable to him. Not for one second. No tender feelings allowed.

  She couldn’t let him draw her into his trap. And it was so hard to resist the pull.

  Eric groaned, deep in his throat. “Easy? You’re playing games with me.”

  “Oh, Eric. You have no idea.” She reached down and ran her fingertip slowly down the length of his stone-hard dick still trapped in his jeans. “I have not even begun to play games with you.”

  “Remember the time we made love in my car, after we hiked out of Lindsay Springs?”

  “I don’t want to talk about the past.”

  Eric nodded. “Right. Forgot. Sorry.”

  But it was too late. That particular Pandora’s box of memories was open now, and they were so vivid. That time in the car when he first told her that he loved her.

  She clambered back over the console and into the driver’s seat, careful not to look at him as she gathered her thoughts, organized her words.

  “I know you’re leaving soon,” she said slowly. “And you’re not coming back.”

  “That’s why I hesitated to make a move. You’re not the sort of woman who only wants a—”

  “Wrong,” she said.

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  “You have no idea what kind of woman I am,” she told him. “You never did. You were just a clueless boy.”

  “Ahhh…okay. If you say so.”

  “You don’t know what I want until I tell you,” she said, her voice cool.

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  Her entire body hummed with emotion. She felt it vibrating in every part of her. Fingers and toes, lips, eyes, breasts. Everywhere.

 
; “We have some unfinished business,” she said.

  He let out a low laugh. “Yah think?”

  “So let’s finish it.”

  “In a weekend? Just like that?”

  “Not a weekend,” she said swiftly. “One night. I’ll never see your face again, am I right? Because that’s the only reason I can even consider doing something so crazy.”

  He just sat there in the dark, silent.

  “Say it,” she said, more harshly. “Is that right?”

  A long pause, and he nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I am leaving. I’m not coming back. You’ll never see my face again. Are you satisfied?”

  “Let me just state the rules. It’s just sex. No talk of the past. We don’t mention what happened between us before. What you did, what you didn’t do. We don’t talk about Boyd, or my dad, or his Porsche, or your Porsche, or the accident. None of it.”

  “I don’t see how we can just cut off—”

  “One night to settle our accounts, and neither expects or hopes or even thinks about more than that. Swear it.”

  “Demi, this is not what I—”

  “Swear it or get the fuck out of my car.”

  He let out a sharp sigh. “Fine. I won’t ask for more. Will you come inside?”

  She hesitated, eying Otis’s dark farmhouse. “Not here,” she said. “Not tonight. It’s too soon. And too easy.”

  “I’ve got no problem with easy,” he said.

  “Meaning what?” she asked. “Me? I’m easy? For climbing on top of you and coming all over your hand?”

  “That moment will go down as one of the highlights of my life,” he told her, with absolute sincerity.

  “Nice try, but still, no. Not here. It’s just too easy.”

  Eric laughed shortly. “Tell me one thing about this fucking day that was easy.”

  “Pounding Boyd into the mud didn’t look like a towering challenge for you.”

  Eric let out a snort of disgust. “Don’t remind me. I’ve hated that lying prick for all these years for fucking me up. In my revenge fantasies, he gave me a better fight. In real life, he came apart on me like a wet paper bag. What a goddamn anticlimax.”

  “We took a turn into the no-go zone,” she said. “My bad. I said his name first.”

  “Right. No talk about Boyd.” Eric gestured toward Otis’s house. “What’s wrong with here? Comfortable bed, clean sheets, total privacy. We’re already here. We’ve already started the foreplay. It’s great. What more do you want that we can’t have here?”

  She shook her head. “I just gave you a ride home,” she said. “I’m not bringing sex conveniently to your door all served up on a silver platter.”

  He considered that for a moment. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “You already have,” she told him. “And even so. Not happening.”

  “Your place?”

  “Hell, no. I don’t want anyone to see that godawful car parked outside my house. And I’d be justly embarrassed if anybody witnessed me doing anything this stupid and self-destructive.”

  “Ouch,” he murmured.

  “Get your feelings hurt if you want to. I don’t care. This is between you and me and it needs to stay secret.”

  “Your guilty pleasure,” he said. “Just like old times.”

  “I suppose,” she said. “If it bothers you, take a pass.”

  “Hell, no. There’s a motel on the strip mall down in Granger Valley, if you want anonymous. The Savoy Suites, one block past the dollar store. It’ll smell like a thousand old cigarettes, but I for one will not notice.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured. “Sounds kind of dirty and illicit.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he murmured.

  She almost smiled, in spite of herself.

  “I don’t care where we go,” he said. “Dictate any terms you want. Jerk me around. Make ridiculous demands, play mind games with me, make me pay for all my sins. Do any damn thing you want. Just let me fuck you until you scream.”

  She lifted her chin, going for the mysterious and merciless femme fatale vibe, but she still had to swallow to keep her voice from wobbling. “You think you can take it?”

  “Yes,” he said. “If you’re dishing it out, I want some.”

  She looked at the tracks of the raindrops trickling down the windshield for a minute. “Tomorrow night. Spruce Tip Island. Meet me there.”

  Eric looked dismayed. “Not tonight?”

  “I need time to plan,” she said.

  “For what?” He sounded baffled.

  She shrugged. She was under no obligation to explain to him how risky this was for her peace of mind. “I’m working early tomorrow. Tomorrow night is better for me.”

  “Spruce Tip,” he repeated. “The island down at the far end of the lake, where your folks had the cabin, right? I can’t drive to an island.”

  “So find a boat,” she said.

  “Otis had a boat.” He sounded dubious. “If the motor still works. It’s ancient.”

  “If it’s too difficult, then don’t come.” She kept her voice light. “But I’ll get there around seven tomorrow evening. Don’t come before that.”

  “Okay. Seven o’clock, Spruce Island. Give me your phone number, in case I—”

  “No. I don’t want your number on my phone. My phone is a tool for the real world. This is just a secret fantasy. No connection with reality.”

  “It’s gonna feel real tomorrow in Otis’s leaky old fishing boat,” he said ruefully.

  “Your problem, not mine. Sweet dreams.”

  Demi didn’t permit herself to look back as she drove away.

  9

  “I’m sorry I can’t assess both properties today, Mr. Trask,” Terry Cattrall said, his voice apologetic. “GodsAcre is pretty far up Kettle River Canyon, and you know how the roads are. Plus I have a conflict later in the evening, so…”

  “It’s okay. And call me Eric,” he said, for the third time. Terry was a stocky, round-faced man with the pale, nervous looking eyebrows and small rimless glasses. Eric vaguely remembered the guy from high school. He’d been couple years younger, in Demi’s class. “I can arrange to be at Otis’s property tomorrow morning to let you in.”

  Terry looked relieved. “Great. I got the impression at the funeral that you were real anxious to get on your way today, but I couldn’t fit it into my schedule yesterday, so…”

  “I’ll stay until tomorrow. But don’t come too early. Say, ten-thirty?”

  “Ten-thirty’s great for me. So, shall we ride up together now? We can take my Jeep up to the property. It’ll probably handle better on that road than…that.” Terry waved a reverent hand in the direction of the Porsche, parked right outside the storefront window of McCabe Realtors.

  “I’m not going up to GodsAcre with you,” Eric said.

  Terry looked startled. “But don’t you want to walk me around the place?”

  “You have the site map,” Eric said. “It’s not like I need to let you inside locked buildings. There are no buildings. There’s nothing to show you but the land. You can look that over without me. Everything’s gone.”

  “Oh.” Terry blinked, his brows furrowed. “Well, ah…I suppose that’s fine, then.”

  “You can’t get lost,” Eric told him. “Kettle Canyon Road doesn’t have any turn-offs. It hugs a cliff-face pretty much the whole way up. Set your odometer at the Narrows Bridge, and when you hit 12.5 miles look for a road on the left that leads into a narrow canyon. I’m sorry to make you go there alone, but I don’t go up there. Not for any reason.”

  Terry’s face reddened. “Of course you wouldn’t,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Give me a call once you’re there, if you have questions. I’ll be happy to answer them, or walk you through the place at a distance.”

  “Yes, of course. I hope you understand, though, that GodsAcre probably won’t demand the price you might have hoped for, given the size of the property. Wi
th the remote location, the fire damage, the poor condition of the roads and of course the tragic history, it’ll be—”

  “Of course,” Eric said. “We know all that, and we don’t expect it to be an easy sell. We just want it to be someone else’s problem.”

  “We’ll do our best, you can be sure of that. It’s too bad Otis didn’t go ahead and sell the place when he had the chance.”

  “Chance?” Eric stared at the other man. “What chance?”

  Terry looked bewildered. “You mean…you didn’t know about those offers?”

  “What offers? When were they made?”

  “Well, ah…” Terry’s voice trailed off. “I was under the impression that Otis would have told you. I don’t want to be opening any can of worms here, you understand, putting my foot in my—”

  “Just tell me about the offers, Terry.”

  Terry looked hunted. “Ah, the only one I witnessed first-hand was about three years ago, about a year after I started working here. It was Bob Nagy’s project, and I remember overhearing him telling Otis that he was crazy not to take the offer. That the land wasn’t good for anything but hunting, maybe some timber, and he’d never get an offer anything close to that price again. Bob knew that you three wanted nothing to do with the place so he urged Otis to just sell it and be done with it. But for some reason, Otis wouldn’t bite.”

  “Who made the offer?” Eric asked.

  “To be honest, I couldn’t tell you. Yesterday after I talked to you at the funeral, I came back here and looked all over for the records, but I cannot seem to locate them, not in our file cabinets or our computers. All those documents are just gone. It’s the darnedest thing. But I’ll certainly keep looking. I seem to recall Bob complaining about other offers coming in, too, before I started here. Offers that Otis had also refused.”

  “He never said a word to us about it,” Eric said.

  “I’m, ah…sure he had his reasons,” Terry offered timidly.

  “I’m sure he did. Is there any way I can talk to Bob?”