He moved his fingers closer to the tender center of her desire.
"That feels so good," she moaned. "Take me to bed, Will. Please, before I lose my mind."
"Wouldn't want that," he murmured in her ear. "Your mind is one of the things I love best about you."
If she hadn't been so gone from lust for him, she might have obsessed more about his use of the word "love." But right now, all she wanted was to get their clothes off and get into bed. She ran her hands along the strong muscles of his back, then under the waistband of his sweats. His ass swelled under the fabric, firm muscles flexing as he spun the two of them in the direction of the bed. She reveled in the intoxicating sensation of his glutes clenching and moving with each step.
He dropped her on the edge of the bed, gazing at her with hot eyes. "You have no idea how many times I've pictured something like this. Usually there's some kind of lingerie involved, though. Not my old law school t-shirt."
"Don't like the t-shirt?" She reached for the hem and whipped it off. In nothing but her favorite boy-short Calvin Klein undies, she lifted her chin and let him look his fill. And he did, taking his time the way he did everything. Deputy Slow-mo strikes again.
While he drank in her body, she stuck out one foot and hooked it in the waistband of his sweats. She dragged it down, inch by inch, revealing the V-shaped muscle next to his hipbone, the light scattering of hair around his privates, his iron-hard thighs.
He wasn't wearing anything under his clothes either. His erection tented his cotton pants in impressive fashion. She stared at that bulge, desire making her giddy. He was so virile, so sexy.
"You're killing me," he muttered. "These are coming off." He tucked his thumbs into the elastic and peeled the sweatpants down his thighs.
Oh. My. God. Will was definitely packing heat down there. His arousal burst from behind the fabric like a rocket launching. Large and heavy, thick and proud, his erection reared upward at an angle from his thighs.
She swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. He advanced toward her and put one knee on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry about him." He touched himself to show her what he was talking about.
She swallowed. "Why?"
"Because I don't have a condom. Unless you do, we can't have sex."
"No, I don't generally carry condoms around with me." Her disappointment made tears sting her eyes. So stupid, but she'd really gotten her hopes up here.
"I'm a little bit relieved to know that. Condom or not, I intend to make you come until you scream."
She froze, thrills running through her, up and down her skin and around about in her belly. "Oh, really?"
"Oh yes. Really. Lie back."
She did so, scooting toward the headboard to give him more room. As he joined her on the bed, she feasted her eyes on the sight of his naked body, so strong and muscular. When his mouth closed over her nipple, she arched into the sensation, bright pleasure searing her nerve endings.
She clutched at his powerful shoulders as he hunched over her. Living up to his Slow-mo nickname, he painstakingly tasted her body, inch by inch, exploring at a slow, thorough, deliberate, all-consuming pace. He spent so much time on her nipples, drawing out such wild feelings, that she abandoned all shyness—not that she had much of that anyway. She lifted her chest to him, offering herself to his relentless tongue. He curved his hands around her breasts, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh while he moved between them, suckling one nipple then the other.
By the time he moved down her belly, she was moaning like a wild thing, twisting her legs back and forth, seeking relief for the hot bundle of nerves between her legs.
"I know what you want," he murmured as he swirled his tongue across the sensitive skin of her lower belly. "And don't you worry, you're going to get it."
"I want you," she moaned. "All of you."
"You want my cock?"
Oh my God. Just him saying the words nearly made her come. "Yes," she said in a smothered voice.
"Then you'll have to see me again," he said smugly. He used his teeth to pull the edge of her panties away from her sex. "I won't leave you unprotected. You know me."
"Mr. Law and Order," she gasped.
"That's right. No glove, no love." He nibbled at the edge of her bush of curls. "God, you are one outstandingly luscious woman. I'm taking these undies off now."
She arched her hips to enable him to remove her panties. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he peeled them down her legs and tossed them on top of the t-shirt she'd already stripped off. Trust Will to keep everything in a nice orderly pile.
"Keeping things tidy, I see," she teased him. "Neat freak."
"Oh, I'm a freak all right. But I don't like everything neat. Some things I like wild." He came back to her, crawling on his knees between her legs. He spread her inner thighs apart with his big hands. She shivered, shudders of anticipation gripping her body. She felt frantic and edgy, as if she might smack him if he didn't give her some release, now.
And when he did, when he lowered that fine brown-haired head to the triangle between her legs and captured her clit with his mouth, she nearly came off the bed, it felt so incredible. She gave a muffled shriek and dug her hands into his hair. Even though he'd gone so slowly before, now he took a whole different approach—rough and relentless, fast and furious. The shift in pace disoriented her. It put her one step behind, her mind trying to catch up with her body.
But her body was too far ahead. It knew things she didn't—that Will was going to blow every other sexual experience away. That she was about to have the most intense orgasm of her life. That he could be trusted to take care of everything she needed, and more.
So she gave up on thinking and abandoned herself to the pure pleasure of feeling. Not just the amazing sensations he pulled from her nerve endings. But the freedom that came with them. Freedom to moan and cry out and grind her hips against his mouth and squeeze her own nipples to intensify the sensations.
He growled and murmured to her, words that flowed in one ear and out the other. She understood without the words. She knew what he meant—that he was crazy for her, that he loved the taste of her, that he couldn't get enough, that he wanted her to explode with pleasure.
With his fingers and tongue and mouth and teeth, he urged her toward a climax that sang toward her like a missile. It was way off on the horizon, a shimmering promise, and then it was right on top of her, roaring like a freight train. She screamed as it hit her. The world burst into bright, shining, sun-struck shards. He stayed with her, licking and rubbing, the warmth and pressure of his touch driving her up, up, higher than she'd ever dreamed possible.
So patient, he was. As if he had all the time in the world to lavish on her. Maybe there was something to that slow-motion approach of his. It made her feel like the center of the world.
Eventually she came spiraling down from that incredible peak. It took a few minutes to catch her breath and get her heart rate back to normal. Every part of her felt languid and happy and complete. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this good about life.
She rolled onto her side to face the man who had brought her this incredible experience. Will was leaning on his elbow, a very satisfied, smug smile on his square-jawed face.
"Well look at you, all proud of yourself," she teased. "Bet I can turn that smile into something else."
His smile broadened. "Yeah? How do you intend to do that?"
She reached for the erection still rearing hard and proud between his legs. As soon as she touched it, the grin dropped off his face, replaced with a look of strain.
"Hmm," she murmured as she stroked that rigid flesh. "What's this all about?"
"No condom," he reminded her with a warning glance.
"We'll just have to get creative then. Good thing I'm a specialist with words."
"Words?" He sounded distracted now, which she counted as a triumph.
"Yeah. Personally, I love the feel of a hard cock in my hand." She emphasized the se
xier of those words and felt his erection jump in response. "Now that's what I'm talking about." She caressed the satiny skin covering his organ, circling the head, brushing her thumb against the drop of liquid already appearing. "Of course, it's not quite as fun as putting it in my mouth. There's nothing quite as delicious as a thick dick sliding against my tongue; it's better than an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top, better than—" The rest of her words disappeared into a mumble as she pulled his organ into her mouth.
The intimacy was almost shocking. Her connection with him felt so strong, so immediate. She had no idea how long she stroked him like that, but he was already on the edge, so it couldn't have been long. He pulled out, groaned long and hard, his body going rigid as he came into her hand.
Watching him come, his eyes closed, jaw clenched, his powerful body thrusting against her hand—God it was incredible.
When he finally relaxed, he slitted one eye open. "Damn," was all he said. "You sure know your way around some dirty talk." He reached for the nightstand, where he'd left his towel earlier, and snagged it for her. She wiped herself off, then bounced off the bed and skipped into the bathroom. As she washed her hands, joy bubbled through her. She felt light as a feather, as if nothing could ever bother her again. Looking in the mirror, she saw someone relaxed and happy, no hint of deadline pressure or work stress. She barely recognized herself.
When she came back to the bed, he was still flat on his back, one arm covering his eyes, his broad chest rising and falling, his powerful legs sprawled out, his penis curled against his thigh. She paused, wondering if he'd fallen asleep.
But he reached his other hand toward her, beckoning for her to join him. She hopped onto the bed and snuggled against his side, fitting her body perfectly against his. Her head nestled into the notch between his shoulder and his collarbone. His hand made a warm, comforting weight on her hip.
"Your way with words is going to be the death of me," he murmured.
"How about your way with your tongue?" she countered. "You've got skills I didn't know about."
"Hey." He lifted the arm covering his face and stroked the hair away from her face. "I don't know anything. I just follow the moans."
Follow the moans. She liked that phrase. "Sounds like you could write a poem about that. A dirty one."
"I've never written a dirty poem. I'll have to think about that. 'There once was a writer named Merry. She was so freaking smart it was scary.'" He paused, probably searching for the next line.
"Not bad, but the first two lines are always the easiest," Merry pointed out.
"Is that a challenge?"
“Hells yeah."
"When she asked for a comment, Will wanted to vomit. So instead he…um…licked her like a berry?"
"Ewww." Merry laughed and swatted him on the side. "I'm a berry now? Let me guess, a blackberry?"
"Hey, it's the only thing that rhymes!" He caught her hand, laughing. "You're not a blackberry, they're too tart. You're more like a juicy, plump mulberry, sweet and tangy and—"
"Stop!" She clapped her hand over his mouth and tried to force her face into a frown. She was laughing too hard to manage it though. "Comment and vomit do not rhyme, by the way."
"Picky, picky. By the way, have you ever had a mulberry pie? They're my favorite."
"Is that supposed to sound so dirty? Oh my God. Pie!" She sat bolt upright, suddenly remembering the rest of their meal. "I ordered apple pie with whipped cream for dessert."
"Did you have specific plans for that pie? Because I never say no to whipped cream." His voice lowered to a growl. "In bed or out of bed."
"You have the dirtiest mind, Will Knight. It's just pie. Real pie. Sitting right over there getting soggy. You hungry?"
"Starving." He lifted her from his body in one fell swoop, then rolled off the bed. He strode naked across the room to the desk that still held all the food. He walked like a panther, like a perfectly muscled, well-honed champion athlete.
"Did you ever play any sports?" she asked as she followed him out of bed. She pulled on his t-shirt. She didn't have anything close to a perfect athlete body and had spent zero years in a gym locker room.
"Why, do I have that jock look?"
"You do." She padded across the carpeted floor to the desk, where he was uncovering the pie. "I'm not complaining, by the way. I love your body. I hope that doesn't sound like I'm objectifying you."
"I'm not too worried about it," he said dryly. He unpeeled the plastic wrap from the first slice of pie and used a fork to spread the melting whipped cream over the apples. "I played football in college," he added.
"Quarterback?"
"QB2. Second string. It was a big football school. They didn't miss me when I quit the team."
He handed her the other plate of pie and lowered himself into a chair, propping his feet up on a second one. She took her dessert and wandered over to the window. Pulling aside the drape, she peered into the darkness. Their room faced the steep hillside from which water had been cascading into the swollen creek. Someone's headlights were illuminating the area now, and she could see that the rain had diminished to a light patter and the water was subsiding.
The drama had passed. They could probably head home now. The roads would most likely be fine.
But she didn't want to. She wanted to stay right here with Will, eating pie next to that huge bed with hours and hours of nakedness awaiting them.
She put down the pie. "Honestly, Will, I doubt that you were ever second-string anything."
He lifted an eyebrow at her over a forkful of apple filling. "Is that a compliment?"
"It was supposed to be."
He pointed his fork at her. "I'm a deputy sheriff, you know. That's second string."
"Yeah, but if you had run for sheriff, you would have won. Everyone says so."
"Damn. And I could have had a big shiny badge." He shrugged. "Oh well."
She came his way and sat on the edge of the bed. "Do you ever regret not completing your law degree?"
He chewed his apple pie thoughtfully. "Maybe. Sometimes. It would come in handy in some situations. But I like being a deputy. I wouldn't want the hassle of running for office. I like being the boots on the ground, the one people come to for answers, the solver of crimes."
"Will Knight, Solver of Crimes." She smiled at him and licked whipped cream off her lips. "Has a certain ring to it."
"That it does. Especially when you say it." He shoved aside his pie and surprised her by scooping her up into his arms. "I have a crazy idea. What if I go from room to room and knock on every door until I find someone with an extra condom?"
She grinned up at him. "I have a better idea. How about if we get a good night's sleep and in the morning, we ask a few discreet questions about Mr. Buckaroo Brown? I interview Nick James about his amazing rescue by a heroic and handsome sheriff's deputy. Then we drive back to Jupiter Point, hitting a convenience store along the way."
He shifted her in his arms. "There's a word for people like you."
"What? Smart?"
"Bossy."
She gasped and pretended to pummel him with her fists. "Oh no, you didn't. You know you're the bossy one. Don't even try to pretend it's me."
"Me, bossy?" He tossed her onto the bed. "You might be right. Take that shirt off. Again."
18
"I'm not sure our relationship is ready for something like this," said Will the next morning.
"It will require some trust, especially on your part." Merry watched him gravely as she dressed. They hadn't gotten much sleep. Will wasn't quite sure how they'd found the willpower to avoid the condom-requiring part of sex. But they'd gone wild with everything else.
And now…this.
"It's not about trust, it's about experience." He tested his boots, finding them still wet from slogging through the creek.
"How can I get experience if we don't give it a try? You know I can always do it without you." She made a saucy face at him.
Bad girl
. It was a good thing they weren't talking about sex.
"Fine. We'll do a little co-investigating. But you have to promise to follow my lead." He put his boots on despite the soggy leather. He couldn't investigate barefoot, could he? Especially while trying to keep Merry out of trouble.
She batted her eyelashes at him. "All you have to do is ask me in your sex voice and I promise to do whatever you want."
"My sex voice?"
"Yeah, that growly, bossy voice." She dropped to a lower octave and roughened her tone. "'Take off your shirt…wrap your legs around me…come for me, baby—'"
"Okay, okay." He interrupted before she got too into her imitation of him. Fact was, he was getting turned on by it. He adjusted his jeans, which had suddenly gotten uncomfortably tight again. "Investigation rule number one. I'm not using my sex voice."
"Spoilsport." She pouted as she brushed past him. "Hey, I have an idea about how to find out which room Buckaroo stays in. Try to keep up."
He followed in hot pursuit, one boot still untied. So far, co-investigating with Merry was a lot like doing anything else with Merry. It made him feel alive.
Merry sweet-talked the head of housekeeping into revealing the fact that they kept suite 21 reserved for a big shot from out of town. Will took over from there. He told the front desk clerk that he needed a picture of the spot where the rescue had occurred, and that he'd determined room 21 had the best angle.
Once the clerk gave them the key, they spent half an hour searching every corner of the suite, which had a master bedroom, an expansive living room with a luxurious seating area, and even a kitchenette. It also had a balcony with a sliding glass door that offered easy access to the woods. If Buckaroo wanted to keep visitors off the radar, it would be easy.
He snapped a few pictures of the creek for cover, as well as the woods and the balcony. He'd pass them along to Deputy Jernigan for follow-up. It wasn't really a lead, but worth putting into the file.
After finding no trace of anything suspicious—or really anything at all, since it had been thoroughly cleaned since Buckaroo's last stay—they came across a locked safe in the closet. Unlike most hotel room safes, this one didn't have any instructions about choosing a code to lock it and unlock it.
Hot Pursuit (Jupiter Point Book 5) Page 14
