Provocative Professions

by S. E. Hall

  He sputters, wiping a hand down his face and winking. "Thanks. Any left in there for the other side?"

  The other side! Where his Powerball ass—oh yeah, if the rest of him is like the whole $385 mil, then that high, firm ass of his is the fucking Powerball that sealed the deal. Like taking a big, crisp mouthful outta the ripest apple in the bag. Give me strength.

  "Yep, get to it and hurry up. I'm freezing…and still dirty, Mr. Clean," I grump.

  Well, can't say I didn't ask for it. He turns and there it is—the apple ass of dreams. He reaches behind him to hand me his washsock. "Can you do it? I can't reach."

  "How do you manage when you don't have a shower buddy then?"

  "Detachable shower head or," he sighs dramatically "I settle for a subpar job. It's fine, I'll—"

  "Gimme the damn thing." I rip the sock from his hand amidst his chuckle, rinse it, add shampoo, and get to work.

  I have to brace my left hand on his wet shoulder to stand on my tiptoes and reach the top of his back, methodically cleaning every inch of skin and stunning tattoo. "It gets more beautiful every time I see it," I murmur.

  "Yeah?" he questions, carrying a trace of doubt.

  "Definitely."

  "Take all the time you need." His octave drops into that carnal my-legs-fly-open place and I shake my head to clear it before swiping across his ass quickly.

  "All done. Here comes the water." Not as heavy now, I lift it as high as I can and let it cascade down the back of him for a more thorough rinsing…thoroughly mesmerized.

  Thank God that's over. It was the most drawn-out test of wills I've ever endured. If I said I wasn't noticeably tingling in certain spots, I'd be a split-tongued liar.

  Vaughn spins to face me, a naughty twinkle in his eyes. "My—I mean your—turn." He reaches over and grabs the dry sock, getting it wet and lathered up, then wiggles a finger for me to step closer. "Come to Daddy, dirty girl."

  It's not unsexy, but far from a phrase I want to encourage or ever hear again, so an over-the-top eye roll is half my reply. "Daddy? No, not working for me. But I am a dirty girl." I turn on the appeal, toying back and moving closer. "Do your thing."

  His tongue takes its signature swipe across his bottom lip while those smoky blue eyes roam the length of me, beckoning my nipples to perk up and beg.

  At the speed of seduction, he keeps his touch gentle, taking painstaking measures to ensure no part of me is neglected. I know he feels the throbbing of my pulse as he washes my neck, the pounding as he rubs across my chest. Each breast is cared for long after it's clean, his hand's descent down my midriff torturously gradual.

  I try to rein in my staggered breathing and the flutter of my stomach muscles, but the tenderness and serenity in his touch, his gaze, call out to—although deeply buried—the woman in me who shamefully longs to be coveted.

  "Vaughn, I—"

  "Shhhh, turn 'em off, Firecracker. Your mind, your mouth. Let me."

  I surrender, absolutely spent from fighting "us." Two near death experiences and being cooped up in solitude with the hottest man I've ever been close enough to touch have exhausted me. And when he adds in the protective, kind but subtly in charge vibe—I'm only human, after all. I let my head fall back and my lids droop, immersed in the feel of his large hands exploring me.

  When his palm slides between my legs, I widen my stance, welcoming his attention. His rough breaths grow as loud as my own, in time with the strokes in every crevice.

  "Vaughn," I breathe, anticipation rolling through me in heated waves.

  "Almost done, baby, turn around for me."

  I hear him wring new water from the cloth and then it's back, moving at a much faster pace along my shoulders and spine, slowing to a teasing rhythm over and between my ass cheeks.

  "Here comes water on your head. Tip it back more."

  I expect a rush of the bucket pouring over me, but it's a light trickle, barely dampening my hair. I peer back over my shoulder, catching him pouring shampoo into his palm. "Never washed a girl's hair before," he confesses, his fingers kneading into my scalp as he begins.

  I close my eyes, relishing the unfamiliar but surprisingly enjoyable attention he gives to every last strand. "Never had a man wash mine before," I reply, my entire body alive.

  "Good," is all I hear him say when his hands leave me. "Do what you gotta to do to get that soap out while I rinse this gorgeous body and then we're done. With the shower…" He growls a welcomed promise and pours slowly to rinse my hair.

  I scrub like a maniac, my scalp tingling with refreshment as I feel the suds lessen. "Done," I pant, ready and eager to get filthy.

  He wastes no time, making sure to remove every last trace of soap from my body, then steps out and gives me his hand. The shirt does little to dry us both off, forget about my thick, shoulder length hair, and I'm swept into his arms and deposited in front of the fire in an instant.

  "Get in here." He holds open the sleeping bag. "And scoot over. This'll warm us up in no time." He climbs in with me, smelling fresh yet still manly, and bundles me deep against his chest, solid arms clutched tight around my naked body, which trembles for more of his touch.

  His chest is right there, my nose brushing it, my lips now doing the same. I use the tip of my tongue to circle one nipple, kissing across then licking around the other.

  "Mmmm," he moans, erection immediate, poking at my stomach. "Paige, baby, better be looking to finish what you start, cause if I think for one second you want me inside you, that's exactly where the fuck I'm going. And I'll stay all goddamn night in that sweetness, babe. All night."

  "Promise?" I blow out hotly against his skin.

  A primal growl is my answer, and then I'm on my back, his damp body on top of mine.

  "Kiss the shit out of me, woman." He smirks and I grab both sides of his face, though for some reason it's not an attack that I deliver but a long, pining kiss to his mouth, groaning into it.

  He matches my erotic tempo, our tongues dancing in sync as he uses shallow thrusts to work his rigid length into me. My teeth graze the length of his tongue as he pulls back, breaking our kiss to catch his breath on a throaty grunt when he's fully embedded, balls flush against my skin.

  I grip hold and squeeze his ass, pivoting my hips to gain friction because the man's not even moving, just holding completely still inside me. I open my eyes, meeting the unexpected tenderness in his. "Come on, move." I grind myself harder, needing him to start pumping, aggravation setting in when he doesn't respond. "Vaughn, fuck me already. Now."

  "Question."

  "Um," I wriggle underneath him, desperate and unashamed, "can it wait?"

  "Nope," he quips with a fast peck on my lips. "Aside from the whole wreck fluke, would you agree things go better when you listen to me?" He's smirking. His rock hard dick is tickling my tonsils and he's fucking smirking!

  "If I say yes, will you give it to me good?"

  "Yeeesss," he drawls.

  "Then yes! Absolutely, 100%, yes!"

  "Ah, thanks babe." Another kiss. "Right answer."

  And he gives it to me…so damn good…but not my way. His palm traces down my arm, snaring my hand and weaving our fingers together, something completely new and again, unexpected. I don't fight it, though, not when his cock, sliding provocatively slow in and out of me, feels so fucking amazing.

  His free hand gently grips my chin, tilting my head up, demanding my eyes tangle with his. There's no more kissing, no more talking, and for the first time in my life, it's not needed. I feel completely free, lost in the deep blue pools watching me, wanting me, treasuring me. It's suddenly too much and strangely revealing, so I slam my eyes shut, needing an escape from the vulnerability he's uncovered.

  "Don't," he murmurs. His breath hot against my lips, but he doesn't kiss me. "Let go, Paige. Trust me."

  His words aren't rough and demanding or pleading and whining, they're real and sincere and before I can stop it, they shatter right through the last wall protecti
ng my timid, pessimistic heart. My eyes peel open, focusing solely on him, and before I can fuck things up with some inappropriately timed remark, he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

  I don't need it, though. He won this round and I refuse to dwell on what exactly that means. Instead I press my lips to his and let go of every last fear.

  By the time we both succumb to sweaty, sated exhaustion, the last thought to drift through my sleepy mind is—

  I think Vaughn Stone just made love to me.

  Chapter 16

  I wake entwined with the delicious and comforting naked body beside me. His pillow is his balled up t-shirt, mine the nook of his arm… A better night's sleep in my entire life isn't ringing any bells. I take this time to get a good look at him while he's unaware and at peace, and it's even better than yesterday's shower shot. I study each chiseled contour of his handsome face, his broad, defined shoulders and pecs, and with an accidental slip of the sleeping bag, his tapered waist and the deep cuts of his oblique muscles.

  He's beautiful without trying, or talking, or throwing in that irresistible charisma—it's simply fact. And he's taken better care of me than anyone else ever has, myself included. The foreign sense of security has me snuggling in closer, pressing a light, soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

  "Mmm." He starts to rouse, sleepy eyes opening to greet me along with a lazy smile. "Morning." He rolls on his side and tucks me tighter against him. "How you feeling?"

  "Too good for being stranded in a cabin after a truck wreck and accidental ice-skating. You?" I play with the light dusting of hair on his chest.

  "Even better." His kisses my forehead. "Hungry?"

  "Well, yeah, but we don't have any more food. Do we?" I sit up, looking over his shoulder to the empty water bottle and wrapper- he caved. "Since you won that argument about not eating the other half." I tickle his sides, quickly losing control when he takes it, placing me under him effortlessly and hovering over me.

  "And she's back. Sharp and sassy." He laughs, covering my mouth with his in a ravenous kiss, running his fingers through my hair and guiding my head to the angle he wants.

  His cocks hardens against my flesh and I mewl into his mouth, pushing my pelvis up to invite him in for more. Never breaking his ministrations on my lips, he lines up expertly and eases inside.

  "Oh." My spine bows, his chest hairs grazing my nipples.

  "Sore?" he asks in my mouth.

  "Not too," I groan back. "Feels so good."

  "Fuck yeah it does." He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth, the rigidity of him growing impossibly inside me.

  We again make unhurried, tender passion to each other, the shift as overwhelming as last night but still unspoken. And after, we don't immediately fall back into our routine of sarcastic push and pull but rather swap easy, companionable stories into the late afternoon. The crackling glow in the old fireplace mixed with the constant flare of heat between us creates more than enough warmth, and by the time my eyelids start sagging, I've counted eleven new facts I know about Vaughn Stone, and just as many I shared.

  "Paige." My dream fades under the arms shaking me. "Paige, come on."

  "What?" I grumble, blinking open my eyes. It's night. Why the hell is he waking me now? "I'm tired, no round…whatever. Go back to sleep."

  His amused rumble is joined by a soft kiss. "I know, babe, but you might want to see this."

  "I've seen it," I yawn, "very impressive."

  "It is, isn't it? Not what I meant, though." I yelp when he lightly smacks my ass. "Get up."

  "This better be good, Stone," I warn as I sit up and stretch, brazen in my nudity.

  "Gonna need these." He hands me my clothes and once I'm dressed, holds out his hand to help me up and leads me to the kitchen. On a cardboard table—he fashioned out of God knows what that he found God knows where—sits an even more pitiful looking, dented can of what may be chicken noodle soup, open with a spoon sticking out.

  "Sit and eat." He pulls out the chair for me with a proud smile and gleaming eyes. Is he crazy? And where did he find soup in this shack? Slowly, my head turns to the table propped in front of the skunk den, a.k.a. pantry.

  He went back in! And expects me to ingest what he found?

  "How'd you get in there without being attacked or sprayed or whatever the fuck angry skunks do?

  "It's called stealth, babe, now eat. I know you're starving."

  "Yeah, I'm gonna pass." No way am I fucking eating that. The spoon alone is probably covered in pick-a-vermin-feces, complementing the tetanus perfectly.

  "Sit your ass down and eat."

  "No, that's disgusting, Vaughn! It's bad enough being trapped here. The last thing I need is a food poisoning bonus, or actual death. I'd say I've run out of free passes on the tempting it, wouldn't you?" I cross my arms over my chest.

  His smile drops, anger bristling from his suddenly stiff posture. All because I don't want to eat that shit?

  He tears his gaze from mine deliberately and walks to the main door, opening it and letting in an arctic blast of winter night air, revealing the melting snow dripping from the overhang.

  "Blizzard's dying down. It won't be long until a search party's formed. Then you won't be trapped with me anymore." His stare turns glacial, colder than the icicles that crash on the porch when he slams the door shut. "How shitty of me for wanting to make sure you didn't pass out from starvation before then! My bad, princess!" With that, he stalks back toward me.

  "Princess? What the hell crawled up your ass?"

  His eyes grow darker, nostrils flaring. "Yes, I found the can in the damn pantry, but feel free to double check the expiration date, Inspector Fancy Pants. And the spoon? I scrubbed the fuck out of it for the last twenty minutes, just for you! Man, what a dick I am. Not sure how I live with myself."

  Confused and irritated, I follow on his heels when he turns and stomps away. "You can't seriously be pissed at me for not wanting to risk puking my guts out!" I scream. "This place has no running water or functioning bathroom—can you paint the pretty picture?"

  "You really think I'd let that happen?" He whips around. "I ate half the can first and feel fine."

  "Good, now if you stay that way for a few hours, maybe I'll give it a try."

  He leans in, directly in front of me, his breath surprisingly minty. Is that gum he has in there? It better not be gum, dammit! Clearly not the time to ask, though.

  "I thought you finally trusted me?"

  "I do!" I throw up my hands. Wait, what? Shit, I think I mean it. "But I'm not eating rat shit to prove it. I'm drawing the line there, buddy!"

  "Right." He moves suffocatingly close, his chest against mine, forcing me to look up into his glowering eyes. "I think the second we're out of this place and you're no longer stuck with me, you'll go back to pretending I don't exist. Pretending this spark between us is nothing more than a passing fling, buddy." He gently grips my chin and raises my head the moment I lower it. "There's something here, between us. Don't fucking fight it or ruin it with your stubborn fear! Tell me, promise me, that when we get back home you'll be mine, that you'll give this a real chance. I need to hear it, Paige."

  Nervous and once again exposed with his verbal pinpoint, I tug my face away from his hold and retreat a few steps for some air. "Vaughn."

  "No! I won't let you fuck this up. I talked to Amelia. She told me about your mother, the way you grew up. How you don't believe in love."

  At that my head jerks up. "You think this is love? I hardly know you!"

  A bitter laugh falls from him. "I didn't say that, but if you run without giving this a chance, I know we'll both fucking regret it. I want more, Paige, and I'm not backing down 'til I get it. "

  I tug my bottom lip between my teeth and chew, unsure how to respond. "I'm not a princess. I'm logical."

  When I peek back up, he's smiling, and it takes everything I have not to return it. My everything isn't enough, though, because I fail miserably, leaning into his palms with a t
iny grin when he cups my face.

  "Yeah, you are, and I want more than anything for you to have faith in me to be logical too. Let me in, Paige." He's searching my eyes and when I don't reply he adds, "I'll make a deal with you. If I fuck this up, you get one shot at me."

  I rear back. "What?"

  "Just keep the bullets away from my boys and my face. Anywhere else is fair game. Deal?"

  How can I not beam at that? "Interesting choices." I snicker. "You think of your balls before, say, your heart? You sure sound confident."

  "Hell yeah, I am. You're made for me, Firecracker. I'll prove that to you soon enough."

  "Well then, what are you waiting for?"

  He wins and he knows it. Somehow he's snuck into a place inside me no one else ever has, a lonely place that seems to like him there. I'm all in, ready to worry about my possible happiness over anyone else's and I must be making that clear because he's on me in an instant, hands tugging at my clothes, holding me tight as we crash against the wall.

  "Gonna fuck you so goddamn good you won't be able to walk when they find us," he grunts, mouth to my ear, hands kneading my breasts.

  I rip his jeans down and I'm actually giggling, something I have no recollection of ever doing before, when he kicks them away.

  "Won't be laughing for long, babe." He hauls me up, my legs winding around his waist as I press my lips to his and he drives into my drenched core, slamming in again and again, my moans lost to his kiss.

  My orgasm builds and with every release after, I'm swept away to another corner of the room. It's a dance filled with pleasure and promise. He takes me in every imaginable position until I'm breathless and bent over a rickety rocking chair.

  "One more," he commands, slipping in from behind.

  "I—" it's a throaty pant, my eyes drowsy, "can't. I'm spent."

  "Only 'cause I'll need you again soon, I'll let you rest…when I'm done. Pop that ass up higher. Gonna fucking fill you."

  The tingle of his cock stroking my every last nerve ending is almost too much, but I manage the strength to lift my hips from the chair, crying out in pure, mind-blowing ecstasy when he grasps my hips and plunges deep, deeper still, then spills himself inside.