Booted

by Pam Godwin

  Could I do it without losing myself in the process? With anyone else, I can move through the actions while remaining totally and emotionally unavailable.

  But Lorne’s already in my head, consuming my thoughts and controlling the responses in my body. I can’t protect my deepest self when I’m with him.

  I know this, but I also know I’ll go to him, because my gut whispers at me to do this. I can make him feel good. That’s what I do, and it’s what he needs.

  “Did Lorne come in?” Jake steps into the kitchen, his gaze glued to the pot on the stove.

  “He’s getting cleaned up.” I set out a ladle. “Food’s ready. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Instinct carries me through the house as I concentrate my energy on locking away all emotion. If the universe wants to have its way with me, I’ll let it. But Lorne can’t matter to me. It would destroy me if I fell.

  When I reach the closed door to his suite, a practiced persona settles over my skin. My expression transforms into that of a temptress, my body an instrument of allurement and seduction.

  I become a woman who lives to fuck. She knows what men crave and how to read their cues, from the first look and initial touch to the last body-trembling orgasm. She knows when he wants sweet and demure, mysterious and quiet, or raunchy and vocal. No matter the proclivities, she always delivers, without limits or boundaries.

  Lorne’s never met this woman. She has no name, no demands, no emotional baggage or insecurities. She’s the epitome of desire wrapped in sensual flesh. A fantasy of forbidden urges.

  He won’t be able to turn her away.

  The walls close in around me as I step out of the shower and drag a towel over my fevered skin. My muscles clench against the absence of windows, natural light, and fresh air.

  I’m not claustrophobic. I just can’t stand the reminders—the feeling of being shut in, locked down, and restrained in my freedom of movement.

  Every time I enter the house, I’m transported behind bars, drenched in rotten air and incessant loud noise.

  Ironically, I used to sit in my cell and take a mind trip to this house, longing for the familiarity of its walls.

  It’s so fucked up. I know adjustment takes time, but getting there is agonizing.

  Doesn’t help that I’m in a constant state of throbbing, pent-up arousal.

  There’s only one reason why I’m standing here with a raging hard-on. I should’ve rubbed one out, but over the past week, shooting my load in the shower has only made me more frustrated.

  I want her, and that craving won’t go away until I give into it.

  Scraping the terrycloth over my face and hair, I amble into the bedroom and freeze.

  Raina stands near the door and reaches behind her to turn the lock. Her lashes sweep downward, hooding her eyes as she regards my swollen dick.

  I drop the towel and let her look. Christ, I want nothing more than for her to stare, stroke, lick…

  Except there’s something off about her.

  She looks the same. Same confident stance—shoulders back, a hand on her hip, and legs relaxed with one out at a posed angle. Same curvaceous lips—the corners resting between a frown and a smile. Same devastating eyes—molten brown and seductive. But they’re lacking her usual fire.

  That’s it. She wants me, yet she’s unnervingly detached from that want.

  “Raina.” I try for a warning tone, but it comes out strangled and hoarse.

  All the blood in my brain descends to my cock, gnawing and tearing at my self-control.

  She lifts her hands to her head and slowly, sensually slides her fingers through her hair. The motion causes the dress to inch up her thighs and pull taut across her perfect rack. Then she runs those hands down her body, straightening the fabric and taking my gaze along for the ride.

  When she glances back up at me, our eyes meet, connect, and communicate. It’s always been written in the space between us—the untamed chemistry, the seed of passion. But now, there’s an invitation to explore it.

  Whenever we’re together, we stand toe to toe, voices battling and wrestling, and hearts beating all the faster for it. We’ve been building to this, racing toward the moment when our bodies attack without words.

  Nothing needs to be said. Millions of years of evolution carved the message into our DNA.

  She and I are meant to fuck.

  She walks toward me, gliding one long leg before the other. I remain rooted to the floor, ensnared by the silent symphony curling from her aura. She’s a siren’s song of feminine dips and bends, sensual movements, and dirty intent.

  With just the right heat in her eyes, she slides up against me and tiptoes her fingertips down my chest. Her shallow breaths denote her hunger, but the pace is too steady, too deliberate.

  Sex is a job. Nothing more.

  That’s true of her past. But not now. Not with me. I won’t allow it.

  Grabbing her hair, I yank her mouth toward mine. She dodges the kiss to bite my jaw, my neck, and holy fuck, her hand clamps around my length.

  Soft, talented fingers move with diabolical precision over the most sensitive part of my head, rubbing pre-cum along the glans and gripping an inch below the tip. Her strokes are paralyzing, the friction explosive, and a swarm of electrifying tingles hits me sideways.

  I stumble to remain upright, mind blown and choking for air. My fucking God, she knows how to work a cock.

  All thought stops in its tracks. My vision blurs. My lungs seize, and my body swims in ecstasy as need, need, need pulses through my veins.

  Put your mouth on me. Swallow it. Suck it. Take it all.

  I grip her ass, her hair, and yank her throat to my lips to feast, suck, and lick her skin. With her hand trapped between us, she continues to jerk me off as she tilts her head up.

  She doesn’t just look at me. She looks into me and acknowledges my desires.

  Then she lowers to her knees.

  The twist and stroke of her fist steals my breath. The pressure of her fingers tightens my balls, and the prospect of her lips wrapped around me thrusts my body toward release.

  I fight it, shaking and groaning, mindlessly overcome. My knees weaken, and I clench my abs, reaching back for support. My hand finds the bed. I drop to the mattress, and she follows me down with her mouth sealed around my cock.

  “Ungh, fuck!” I fall to my back and tangle my fingers in her silky hair. “So fucking good. Goddamn, Raina. Fuck!”

  Her tongue is relentless, swirling and curling and doing things I can’t fathom. It feels like a thousand hot, wet fingers dancing along my shaft in endless rhythm. I’m lost in the sensations, writhing, grasping, and battling the ungodly pressure to explode.

  “Raina, wait.” I moan, my fists flexing and releasing in her hair. “Slow down for a se— Ahhh, Christ. Don’t stop. That’s incredible.”

  The succubus peers up at me beneath the veil of her lashes, her lips swollen and throat filled with cock. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

  With a mischievous crook of her lips, she swallows hard, clenching wet muscles around my head.

  “Jesus!” My back bows off the mattress.

  She slides her mouth off and drags that sinful tongue down my length. When she reaches my balls, she sucks and licks the sac until every muscle in my body strains with the effort to hold back my release.

  She clasps the back of my thigh and pushes it upward, spreading my legs. Then her lips move lower, sliding beneath my scrotum, and…

  “Don’t.” I yank her hair and clench my ass against her intrusion.

  “Relax.” She lowers her head and invades with her tongue, pushing and curling against my reluctant rim.

  No one has ever touched me there, let alone licked and— What is she doing? Fucking hell, she’s fingering my ass.

  My cock goes impossibly stiff, engorged and pulsing to the point of agony. This is wrong. And so fucking good. The stimulation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

  The world narrows to
her tongue on my balls and her finger in my ass. The pleasure is so overwhelming I think I’m going to black out.

  My head falls back on the bed, and I release a long, guttural groan.

  She shifts between my legs, and her mouth closes over my cock. Sucking with abandon, she bends that filthy finger inside me, and I’m gone.

  The orgasm erupts so fast and hard I can’t warn her. Crashing waves of heat shoot along my shaft and hit the back of her throat in violent jets of relief. The force of it robs my voice, and my mouth hangs open in a breathless, soundless roar.

  It takes me long seconds to realize I’m holding her face against me, grinding against her throat and blocking her air.

  I drop my hands, panting to catch my breath. I’m utterly gobsmacked, shaken, spent, and floating in a quaking haze of wonderment.

  Because of a blowjob.

  I’m fucking ruined.

  She lifts her head and swipes a finger along the corner of her mouth. Her hand ghosts along my pulsing, oversensitive cock, holding it steady as she tenderly kisses the tip.

  Then she rises and woodenly walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

  As the tingling remnants of bliss subside and my heart rate returns to normal, I’m left with cold realization.

  She just made me her bitch, and she did it with total and complete indifference.

  She turned me into a job.

  And I let her.

  I lurch off the bed and snag a pair of boxer briefs. Outrage pounds through my blood as I yank them on and storm to the bathroom.

  I jerk on the handle, and it sticks. Did she lock it? In a burst of impatience, I slam a shoulder into the wood and send the door careening against the adjacent wall.

  “What the hell?” She looks up from the sink, with a toothbrush dangling from her mouth.

  “You locked the door.”

  “I did not.” She spits toothpaste and rinses with water. “But if I did, a knock would’ve sufficed.”

  I step inside and mark her rigid shoulders, stiff neck, and curling fingers on the counter. The seductive act is gone, and I’m a goddamn fool.

  “What?” She sets down the toothbrush and crosses her arms.

  She knows what. Guilt lines her face, and her eyes cloud with brewing defensiveness. She’s preparing for a fight, and I’ll give her one. Just not the one she’s expecting.

  I let my arms fall at my sides and relax the tension in my back. “I didn’t kiss you.”

  She grimaces and turns toward the shower, reaching for the lever. “Dinner’s getting cold. Go eat.”

  Anger surges, and I release it in two seething syllables. “Raina.”

  Her hand drops, and her arms pull in close to her ribs. But she doesn’t give me her eyes.

  “That’s not how I do things.” I don’t step forward to close the distance. Instead, I grab a handful of fabric on her spine and haul her backwards.

  Her arms fly up, and her feet shuffle with awkward grace as I shove her back against the wall.

  She instantly goes for my upper lip, which I block. Her hands keep moving, striking, redirecting, and sweeping through every defense technique she knows. I anticipate each attack. I’m the one who taught her, after all. Nevertheless, she remains calm and focused, and fuck if that doesn’t fill me with pride.

  When she realizes she can’t overpower me, she flattens her back against the wall and thrusts her stubborn chin as far away from me as she can.

  “If I were anyone else, you would’ve escaped this position.” I feather my fingers along the grinding lock of her jaw. “But I’m not them. I want intimacy, depth, and I’m going to kiss you.”

  Her expression contorts, as if the idea makes her nauseated.

  I grip her chin and force her face to mine. “You just stuck your tongue in my ass, but my mouth grosses you out?”

  “I don’t kiss.” She pushes against my chest.

  I push back with my entire body. “But you’ve been kissed before?”

  “Yes. I despise it.”

  “Because you’ve never been kissed by me.” I drink in her dark angry eyes and shapely, fuckable lips. “As much I loved what you did back there, I’m fucking offended by your lack of interest. If I wanted a blowjob from a whore, I’d hire one.”

  She flinches.

  “I want you.” I run a hand through her hair, letting the satiny texture soothe my temper. “You led me to believe you were into it. Into me. That’s the same as lying.”

  “It’s the way I am.” Her chest trembles.

  “Fuck that. Given the amount of heat you put into fighting me, I know for a goddamn fact you’d be an intensely passionate lover.” I scrape a hand over my head as I consider the hypocrisy in what I’m saying. “I’m not an affectionate man, but—”

  “You are.” She stares at my throat, eyes wide and unblinking. “That’s the problem. When you touch me, it comes from a soulful place inside you. A place of thought and compassion and connection.”

  She stares up at me, her expression pained. I rest a palm against her cheek, and she recoils, her complexion turning ashen.

  “I’m scared,” she whispers.

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “The Raina I know doesn’t let fear control her.” Bending my knees, I touch my forehead to hers. “Give me your mouth.”

  The look in her eyes says she’s afraid of me more than anything. She stands frozen and petrified under my command, her lips quivering as I cradle her face in my palms.

  My heartbeat hammers an irregular count, quickening with each millimeter of space I erase between us.

  My mouth hovers. Her breaths shiver. My lips glance off hers. We both suck in air. I lean closer, touching her with my fingers, my chest, my hips. My tongue.

  The soft cushion of her lips undoes me, and her minty taste wrenches me back for more. I surround her, pull her in tight.

  Then I kiss her. A warm, wet hug of mouths and heavy breaths. I go in aggressively, not to test the water, but to shake it the hell up.

  I dive and plunder, engorge and ravage, quenching an eight-year drought. My thumbs stroke her cheeks. My fingers sink into her hair, and she leans into us.

  And edges back.

  As she attempts detachment, I lick at her tongue, reinforcing the attraction. She gasps beneath the electricity and assesses it with a lick of her own. Then another. Hesitantly, she plunges deeper, reaching, exploring, mouth open, soft and trusting, fingertips denting skin, toes stretching her height, and slowly, wondrously, she thaws.

  Her hands find my shoulders. Her groin meets mine, and she melts into me with a passion that scorches.

  Cupping her face, I angle her head and draw her ardor into mine, feeding on the inescapable rightness of it. She’s tiny in my arms, but her intensity is immeasurable, sparking from her skin, with a shimmery zap on every breath.

  As my kiss consumes her mouth, I steal peeks at her between voracious bites. Flawlessly smooth complexion, thick black lashes over sharp cheekbones, and raven hair that tumbles around my hands—her beauty is effortless and deeply moving. Perhaps it’s the sensuality within her, glowing her skin from the inside out. To hold her like this is to bathe in the warmth of sunlight.

  My body leans harder, pushing her against the wall as we surrender to the flames, lips biting, tongues rubbing, and hips falling into a hungry grind.

  We meld into a single desire, one wish, and we both know it’s only a matter of time before I’m inside her, fucking her the way the universe intended.

  Too soon, she pulls back. I chase her, stealing more greedy sips before resting my brow against hers.

  Her mouth remains parted, eyes lost in emotion. She feels me, hears me, and that knowledge stirs something significant deep in my chest.

  We stare at each other, breathless and searching. I tumble eagerly into the paradise of her eyes and watch in horror as they well with tears.

  “Raina?”

  She escapes my loose grip and moves to the far side o
f the bathroom with her back to me.

  “Talk to me.” I can’t temper the demand in my voice.

  “I already have a broken life, Lorne. I won’t survive a broken heart. Please, just… Go.”

  Realization knocks the air from my lungs.

  She could fall in love with me.

  I’ve never had a girlfriend, never loved anyone outside of my family. I don’t even know if I’m capable of it. Am I pushing us into something that might not work out?

  Dammit, I’m willing to take that leap.

  But she’s not.

  She turns on the shower. Then she slides the straps off her shoulders and lowers the dress down her back, wickedly and deliberately torturing me.

  I want her, with every hot, hard, strumming beat in my body.

  But not like this. Not until she’s with me at the same burning level.

  I pivot out of the bathroom and slam the door.

  Raina doesn’t show up for dinner that night. I tell myself I don’t care and head outside to escape the crawling sensation of confinement.

  For the rest of the evening, I ride Captain across the acreage, checking the fences and perimeter security around the house. Between stops, I let him stretch into a gallop. As he flies over the dark terrain, Raina’s voice vibrates the air.

  The wind in my face, the freedom on his back, the feel of his strength between my legs, the sound of his loyal heartbeat.

  For the first time since the tragedy in the ravine, I give myself permission to enjoy the ride. It’s not just the solace in reconnecting with my old friend. It’s the memories tucked into the nature around us. The flower-picking, rabbit-hunting, stargazing memories of the trails I traversed as a child, the trees I climbed, the pond I swam in, and the fields where we camped every summer.

  Happiness has been here all along, in the spirit of the land, waiting for me to wake up and be the man I’m meant to be.

  A man who’s willing to dip into his soul and remember what calls to him.

  Raina knew.

  She always seems to know what I need.

  I don’t know what time I finally sprawl on the sleeping bag. There are no watches or clocks in prison, and I’ve found I no longer want them.