She raised an eyebrow, trailing her fingers over his chest. “And you’re not?”
As if on cue, his own stomach rumbled. He smiled and pulled her down on top of him. Her legs fell naturally to either side, and just as naturally, her pussy cradled his cock. He hummed in his throat before slapping her ass.
“None of that, now.”
A sweet heat spread to her pussy, which didn’t have the sense to be exhausted.
“I need food, woman.”
“So do I.” She slid off the side of the bed and stood, belatedly realizing she didn’t have a wrap. And without the haze of passion to give her courage, she felt exposed. The edge of the sheet angled off the side of the bed. She tugged, but it didn’t release. It was caught under Tracker’s hip, and darn it if he didn’t sprawl there like a pagan god, legs slightly spread, cock slightly engorged. She couldn’t look away from his cock. Even at rest, it looked huge. She remembered how it had felt inside her. Thick and hard as he claimed her, harder at the end, just before he came, throbbing inside her as he flooded her pussy with his seed.
Even now she was wet from him, with him. With them. He’d offered her a towel, but she hadn’t wanted to erase the moment just yet. His cock gave a little twitch. She wondered how it would feel against her tongue. Would it feel as good to him as his tongue had to her? With her past, it wasn’t something she ever thought she’d be considering, but the man was just so mouthwateringly handsome in a purely uncivilized way. Pure strength of body, of purpose. A wild creature, tame for now. For her.
Tracker laid his head back on his folded hands. His crooked smile daring her to keep trying to get the sheet undone. She followed the trajectory of his gaze. Yanking on the sheet was making her breasts shimmy. “Lecher!”
With an arch of a brow he upped the dare in his eyes. “Deep thoughts?”
It just burst from her. “I was wondering how you’d taste.”
His cock went hard in a slow stretch. She watched it happen, marveling at the miraculous change. He caught her looking and laughed.
“Oh, my God.” She spun with the sheet, using her body weight to yank it out from under him, covering herself as she went. With a suddenness she wasn’t expecting, it released. She stumbled a couple steps. Tracker caught her hand, using her momentum to pull her back to the bed.
She fell against him, bracing herself on her hand and one knee. He still had that mischief in his gaze. She met and matched it, the novelty of laughing with a man in bed too unique to resist. “That isn’t what I thought you meant when you said you were hungry.”
“Me, either, but you’ve convinced me.”
“How?”
“Lying there all sexy, flaunting your…your maleness.”
“Maleness? Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Do you have another word?”
“None fit for your lips.”
Concern crept up beside the passion and humor in his gaze. It was for her. He never worried about himself. He was always so convinced that he could handle any pain that came his way. She touched a finger to the deep, circular scar on his shoulder. A bullet wound? Whether it be physical or emotional, he just went through life collecting scar upon scar.
“You don’t have to do this.”
But she wanted to. He knew everything about making love to her, while she knew nothing about him. “I want to know everything about you.”
“Everything is a tall order.”
So cautious. She sat back. “I want to start with this.”
Leaning over, he lit the lamp with one of the sulfurs on the bedstand. The glass shade settled back into place with a soft rattle. He motioned to the impromptu wrap. “Then why the sheet?”
The scent of smoke drifted over, covering the scent of cloves. “I was embarrassed.”
“After all we’ve done?”
“A belated attack of modesty.”
Hooking his finger in the fold over her breast, he pulled. “What will it take to defeat it?”
She toyed with the end, holding it against the pressure he applied, her breath coming faster. Flirting with a naked man was not the horrible thing her mother had warned her about. She gave him her best coquettish smile. The one she’d practiced in front of the mirror. The one her mother said was guaranteed to land her the husband of her choice. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to want to be fondling those breasts while you’re finding out how I taste.”
Oh. She shivered. Tracker took advantage of the distraction to tug the sheet free. It fell around her hips without her giving even a whisper of protest. She slid off the bed and onto her knees. His cock flexed. Her mouth watered.
He cupped his balls and cock in his hand. The head was large and fat, darker than the rest. Beautiful. She remembered that intimate discomfort as she had taken him that first time. He was a big man and he’d been inside her. Now she was going to take him again. In a different, more intimate way. She stroked his thigh, her hand inching higher. Level with his cock, she had a bird’s-eye view of the effect of her touch. His erection flexed again in invitation. Just a little closer and she’d be there. She’d know how he tasted. Meeting his gaze, she licked her lips.
“Are you ready?” she asked, desire and an odd sense of power flowing together.
“Goddammit, sweets, you’re going to kill me.”
She shook her head, her smile feeling as soft as her emotions. “No, I’m going to love you.”
He angled his cock down so it was perfectly aligned with her mouth. “Then stop teasing me before I come just from the anticipation of how it will feel.”
Could she really tease him to the point that he could come without being in her? Did she really have that power?
Tracker hooked his hand behind her neck and dragged her forward, laughing as he did. “Not this time.”
“What?”
“I can see you toying with the idea.” Kissing her softly, he whispered, “And not this time.”
“You want my mouth.”
“Yeah. Just a little.”
He was a horrible liar. He wanted her mouth a lot. He’d pleased her without reservation and without restriction. Now she wanted to please him the same way, before it was too late. He had to leave her in two days. Another gift from Vincente’s lie. She already knew the torment of living with regret. She’d spent months mourning all the things she couldn’t remember doing with a husband she couldn’t remember. She’d been in this country long enough to know there were no guarantees.
Good men died every day for reasons that made no sense.
In two days Tracker was leaving to settle a score with Harold Amboy, her father’s solicitor, the man who hunted her and Desi. If Tracker never came back to her, she wanted every memory she could cram into her brain, so that in the years to come she’d be able to pull them out and relive the moments that were so special. Because there’d never be another man for her. She understood that now. This was why she’d trusted Tracker from the moment she saw him. This was why he’d been able to touch her when no one else could. This was why she felt as if she’d come home when she stepped into his arms. He was the miracle she’d prayed for. The man meant for her.
She stuck her tongue out and touched it to the tip of his penis. Holding his gaze as she swirled her tongue around the sensitive head. Taking her cues from how he had loved her, she skimmed her fingers down his cock, gaining her pleasure from his. She did it again. He moaned and caught his breath.
“You like that.”
“You liked my tongue on your pussy, too.”
Cupping his balls in her hand, she shook her head at his slight defensiveness. Did he think she found him any less appetizing than he did her? “No. I loved that. And I think I’m going to like this, too.”
This time she rubbed the flat of her tongue over the head, judging from his reaction whether he liked it enough to repeat. His hips bucked and his cock prodded her lips in tiny pulses of demand. She didn’t grant entrance. He’d taught her that anticipation made the pleasure
that much keener. She wanted every bit of pleasure for him.
She made another pass with her tongue, blowing lightly on the broad surface. He cursed. She smiled. On the next pulse of his hips, she opened her mouth, keeping her tongue flat so there was no impediment to his thrust. He moaned as his fingers tunneled through her hair, curling in the strands as his cock slid over her tongue. He smelled of cloves and man. He tasted of life and possibilities.
Pulling her down on his cock, he thrust almost helplessly. She gagged, and for a split second he held her there, suspended in his pleasure, as her throat worked. Breathing through her nose, she controlled her gag response, waiting as he found his own control. He pulled back, relieving the pressure, leaving her with the pleasure.
The stroke of his hand down her cheek soothed as much as his words. “I’m sorry, sweets. So sorry. I should be shot.”
“No.” She tried to hold him to her, but he was too strong. His cock slipped from her mouth.
She pulled, wanting him back. It was like trying to move a rock.
“This wasn’t a good idea.”
“I disagree.”
She could imagine how she looked to him, still kneeling there, her lips wet with saliva, still parted, as if anticipating the next thrust.
“I can’t control myself when it comes to your mouth.”
“You want it that badly?”
“You could say that.”
Letting go of his thighs, she changed her hold and her tactics. Curling her fingers around his cock, she milked it slowly, drawing his thoughts away from retreat and into pleasure. “I want that, too. I want to know how it feels to hold you against my tongue as the desire builds. I want to know how hard you can get. How wild you can be. How much heat you can show me. I want to taste your pleasure.”
His hips pumped in counterpoint to her pumping. “Dammit. Stop.”
“No. Not until I taste your pleasure.” She met his gaze dead on. She wasn’t a scared girl hiding from her past. She was a woman who remembered everything, and one of the things she remembered was that she hated being afraid. “Like you did mine. I want to know all there is to know about you this way.”
“Ari?”
“Let me make love to you, Tracker. Let me give you the pleasure you want. Let me touch you with love just in case.”
His cock jerked up and then down, coming to rest heavily in her hand. She gladly took the weight, took responsibility for his pleasure.
“Just in case what?”
In case the unthinkable happened. “If I lose everything again, I want the memories.”
His thumb stroked over her mouth, sliding easily on the moist flesh. It was her turn to shiver. “It won’t be some tentative thing. I could lose control again.”
“Who said I wanted you to have control?”
“I did.”
She added a second hand to the first. There was still more left over than she could take in her mouth. “Well, this is my memory, and I’m building it for us and I’m going to do it my way.” To emphasize her point, she lowered her head on his cock, taking it deep, holding it deep.
His hands went back to curling in her hair, holding her in place. With a gentle push, he gave her that much more. “Just how much control do you think I have?”
More than her. There was something so seductive about pleasing Tracker this way. Something so hot about dragging those hoarse moans from his lips. She kissed his penis. Softly. Gently.
But this time she didn’t pull away. Instead, she opened her mouth, covering her teeth with her lips, and made love to his cock. The way she wanted to make love with him. Without inhibitions. Without regrets. And according to the swear words being rattled off in a guttural explosion of sound overhead, without a lot of common sense. Tracker picked up the pace, shuttling his cock in and out of her mouth, tunneling it deeper and harder. All it took was following the directions of his hands and accepting as much of his cock as she could. Relaxing her throat, she took what he offered, hearing the need behind the curses, feeling the want, hearing the I love you he didn’t speak but always showed her.
She worked the base of his cock with her fingers as she sucked the swollen head, running her tongue over it in rapid swirls.
“Goddammit, Ari. I can’t hold back.”
Tracker’s hips bucked out of rhythm. His cock became diamond hard, pressing back against her tongue as she tested his readiness. He tried to stop. It was his nature to be in control, but in this she was in charge. Every time he tried, she’d rub her tongue in a different spot, rake her teeth a little harder, scrap her nails along his balls. She wanted to destroy his illusions, take him to a place he’d never been before with any other woman. She shifted and rubbed her thighs together, trying to control her own passion.
He pulled back, leaving just the tip of his cock resting on her tongue.
“I’m going to come.”
She cupped his balls in her hand. They were heavy and full, drawn tightly to his body. “Yes.”
Her whisper fanned across the swollen crest. He shivered and speared his cock back into her mouth. She sucked hard, giving him as much as she could, caressing every inch when he thrust deep, sucking hard when he withdrew. Giving, taking—it all blurred together.
“If you’re going to run, run now.”
The words were harsh. The truth sweet. He was trying to hold back for her. To spare her from the fullness of his passion. She was beginning to believe he thought too much. She nipped along the underside of his cock before nibbling over the smooth head. His fingers clenched in her hair almost compulsively.
Holding his gaze, she licked her lips, smiled and put her hands behind her head, pushing her breasts out, inviting a caress. She wasn’t running.
“Shit.” Pleasure followed the curse as his fingers closed over her nipples, pulling, tugging, twisting, drawing her into the storm, layering another texture on top of the ones already painted.
“That’s good, baby. Oh, that’s good.”
The words flowed over her in dark encouragement. Her breasts throbbed with each tug, each twist. She wanted more. Needed more.
“More, sweets. Damn, you’ve got to take more.”
She tried, but it was too much. He was too much. But so good. She gagged and held on, shifting her grip to his strong thighs. Her jaw ached. Her tongue burned; her pussy flowered and wept with need. As the passion built, she dug her nails into the back of his thighs and pulled herself farther onto his cock with each thrust. He hit the back of her throat again. She was better prepared this time. She didn’t gag as much. He pulled back. His thrusts picked up speed but never force. Despite what he’d threatened, he was careful, going only so far, never too far.
It wasn’t far enough. She wanted to take it all, wanted to swallow him whole, but he was just too big, so she took as much she could, pumping in tandem with her hands in counterpoint with his thrusts, following the rhythm he set—faster, harder, deeper. She wanted more. Oh, God, she wanted it all. Who could’ve known that something that had been so degrading before could be so pleasurable with Tracker?
“I’m going to come.”
He tried to pull away. She did not let him. She’d known many men this way against her will. But it was different with Tracker. With Tracker it was good. She shook her head, opened her mouth wider and relaxed her throat, giving him just that much more of herself. She could feel the desire cresting within him as the pleasure built to the bursting point. She wanted it. For him. For herself.
She held on to his cock when he would have withdrawn. Her throat muscles worked as he pressed against them.
“Son of a bitch.” It was a curse, a blessing, a compliment. His hips bucked in her hands. He stopped pushing her away and started dragging her closer. He came hard and sweet, challenging her to take him all. She tried, but he was too much. It was good, though. Pleasing Tracker was good. She swallowed one last time before dragging in a hard breath. She didn’t need to ask if she’d pleased him. The answer was in the breath he cou
ldn’t finish, the fine tremor that ran through him.
He didn’t immediately withdraw. She was glad. He was hers. This time was hers. Suckling his cock, she gentled him even as he gentled his hands on her nipples. They were so sensitive. Almost bruised after the hours of lovemaking. They needed soothing. She wanted the touch of his tongue, the softness of his kiss. She wanted soothing. She wanted to be loved.
As if understanding, Tracker brought his hand to her cheek, tracing her lips around his cock as if he, too, needed proof of the connection. A shudder went through him. He cupped her chin as she circled her tongue around the head of his cock one last time. “Are you all right?”
She was more than all right. For the first time in a long time she felt whole.
14
They were still hungry. Stealing across the yard like thieves in the night, they sneaked into the kitchen. Tracker, dressed only in a pair of leather pants, held the door open. As Ari stepped through, he pinched her butt.
She squealed. He held his finger to his lips. “Shh. You don’t want to wake the house.”
She giggled. Actually giggled.
He lit the lamp on the table. A soft, yellow light illuminated the room.
“Or do you?”
He wanted to know if she wanted to see Desi and Miguel. “Not yet.” She wasn’t ready for that yet. Desi, because she was so angry, and Miguel, because she was just beginning to feel clean. To feel worthy. She smiled at Tracker over her shoulder as she went to explore what was in the cupboards. “I need to eat.”
“Can’t say that I want to see your strength fail.”
Unbelievably, she blushed.
A china clock sat on the cabinet. She picked it up and tilted it to the light. Ten o’clock. Dinner was probably still good.
Trucker walked over to the stove. She watched the muscles in his back flex under his skin, followed his spine down to his tight buttocks. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man. He was all lean flesh and warm skin. The narrowness of his hips drew her eye. He took a step and muscle flexed beneath the supple leather of his pants. She curled her fingers at the memory of how all that maleness felt surging against her palms.
Tracker’s Sin Page 20
