by Gina Conkle
“Wait ‘til you see what I have for you.”
Her butt had slid lower on the seat. Head wedged lower against the door and seat back, her body hummed so bad with need, she care how tight the space was. Car sex got her lax and wound up all at once. Her breasts ached in her tight bra, but another spot ached…harder.
AJ swooped down and captured her mouth. He kissed and kissed and kissed. She tasted beer on his lips. The top of chest brushed hers, the slight pressure maddening. She had to touch his head, feel AJ’s buzz cut tickle her palms, assurance he was really here kissing her over and over again. The seat sunk lower as he lodged his midsection between her legs. Her girl parts twitched. Skin under her skirt got balmier.
Forever was now. In AJ’s kisses. In his hand rubbing her thigh. The smell of his truck and the summer air. She’d be ninety and she’d never forget this night. And AJ would be with her. They completed each other…forget four days. She knew as he rained down kisses this was it. Him and her. Together.
Her nails scraped his shirt. In between kisses, she said, “This—” Kiss. Kiss. Kiss “—needs to—” Deeper kiss. “—come off.” She pushed his shoulder. “AJ.”
His eyes were pitch black. AJ’s splayed hand on her thigh was possessive. The tide of girl’s choice sex was turning.
“Go ahead. Pull it off me.”
Laughing, she yanked the shirt up over his head and let it fall behind him. She scraped her fingernails over his shoulders down his pecs to his nipples. AJ’s abs flexed and his face tightened.
“Fuck,” he breathed the word out slowly. “That feels so good.”
The tips of her nails played with the tip of his nipples. Back and forth, up and down, the feather light scrapes barely nudged his nipples. “I figured our second rule of dating.” The nipple play stopped. “Want to hear it?”
His brows slammed together. “What?” His usual smooth baritone dragged low, rough notes. AJ was a nipple man and he did not like the denied touch.
She gathered her hem with both hands. “Rule number two. We belong together.”
His scowl relaxed. He brushed hair out of her face as she bunched black silk faille around her waist.
“Yeah,” he said, holding eye contact. “I’m falling hard for you too.”
She nipped her bottom lip, shaking her skirts. “I did this for you. It’s called a virgin Brazilian bikini wax.”
AJ’s mouth fell open. “It’s called fucking hot.” His eyes flared in big, shocked blue circles. “The whole time tonight…no underwear?”
“Bare ass naked under my skirt.” The words she thought he’d say.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “My dirty pin up girl.” His thumb grazed her outer labia. “Is your skin extra sensitive?”
Her butt lifted off the seat. “Yes,” she breathed the word, clutching the door’s arm rest, her eyes closing. Skin tingled, a little fiery and extra sensitive. “In a good way now.”
Watching was hot. Super sexy really. But, this was something she wanted to feel. AJ touching her there for the first time.
He swiped two fingers up and down the length of her labia. Down one side, up the other side. The tease was sumptuous. Decadent, tender. AJ took his time playing with her. Her fingernails dug into the vinyl armrest. Air was cool between her legs. Wetness felt like warm syrup running between her inner lips. She whimpered. AJ’s fingers edged the fold of her labia. One bump, a slip and he’d touch inside her vagina. She was tempted. Her hips badly wanted to wiggle. The scorching, sweet build up got her wetter and wetter.
“You want me to finger you?”
She shivered.
Her lids fluttered open. A fire banked in AJ’s eyes, hungry, steady. A wealth of words smoldered in his face. She opened her mouth, tried to talk, but his feather soft strokes muted her. Her other hand grasped her skirt tighter. She humped his patient hand. One jerk of her hips, another. All reflex. Her body was taking over.
“You can’t talk can you?” AJ asked, his voice deep and rusty. “My pin up girl. So beautiful.” His other hand stroked the side of her head sweetly calming. “Get you sexed up and you can’t string two words together.”
“Oh.” Nodding fast, she turned her face into his forearm. She sucked on his skin, the noises filling the cab.
AJ slowly brushed two fingers inside her vagina. “You’re slippery.”
She moaned and her hips sprung off the seat again. This was merciless teasing. The gradual, agonizing strokes. The sight of AJ between her legs, his broad shoulders, his features fixed, concentrating as if pleasuring her was his only task in the world.
Sultry, addictive bliss trailed wherever he touched. AJ’s two fingers circled wider. He wasn’t fingering her and he wasn’t touching her clitoris. He kissed her inner thigh and bit softly on her right labia, gently pulling the skin with his teeth before letting it go. His masculine laugh was possessive. He brushed the two fingers slick with her juices down the vertical strip of hair above her vagina’s cleft.
“I like this line of hair.” He petted it. Kissed it. It was the only hair left after the waxing. His mouth hovered agonizingly close to her open vagina. “I’m going to touch your clit.”
He folded his free hand over hers clutching her skirts and swirled his two wet fingers on her pulsing clitoris.
“Ahhhh, A…J….” She cried out, her hips shooting up. The touch seared her. Every nerve in her party must’ve migrated to the happy zone between her legs. The rest of her was numb. All she could do was feel AJ’s touch.
She wasn’t going to last long enough for AJ to slide his fingers inside her. Her hips started bucking. She screamed. Again. Louder. Her chin jammed into her chest. Her hand came off the seat back to grab AJ’s shoulder. She needed contact with him to hold onto his strength.
“Ohhhh, A…J…” she screamed again, tears squeezing out the corners of her eyes.
The orgasm ripped through her, a violent carnal pleasure. Colors burst behind her eyelids. Sweat sheened her skin, the heat and desperate want for AJ to touch her everywhere made her resent her pretty Suzy Perette dress.
AJ’s fingers stopped swirling her clitoris. She opened her eyes to his open-mouthed smile.
“So you’re a screamer.”
She sniffled, nodding. The darkness couldn’t hide the tear streaking down her cheek. First one and another. A tumult of emotions swamped her. Life had changed in a matter of days because she happened to have car troubles in the right place at the right time and she met the right, best man.
AJ rose up on the seat, his face inches from hers. “Are you crying? Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Jennifer touched his face, treasuring the masculine angles. He was the dearest man and so beautiful. “Please. Hold me.”
“Yeah, sure.” Carefully he helped her legs to the floor. AJ pulled her into his lap, skirt around her waist, her bare ass resting on his jeans covered thigh.
She nestled into him. Sitting on his lap, AJ holding her, was natural. She belonged with him but it didn’t stop the storm of feelings. Letting go with him was freeing. Scary. She shook, letting post orgasm rapture liquefy inside her. Life wouldn’t be the same. She sat on the lap of the man she’d marry some day and she didn’t even know his last name, his birthday, or if he wanted kids.
AJ’s steady breathing calmed her. He was pretty self-possessed for a man of twenty-eight. And she trusted him. Another fat tear rolled down her cheek, washing away the past.
“Hey, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He spoke against her head, his deep baritone soothing her.
She smelled his neck, the basic soap that must’ve cleaned him after a hard day’s work still on his skin. No cologne. “I love the way you smell.”
“That’s what got you crying? My smell?” he joked.
“No. It’s you. Being with you.” She pulled away to look him in the eyes. “I feel so complete, so
full of trust and happiness. It just hit me…how much I want to be with you.” She traced the scar under his chin, her hand stroking the square line of his jaw. “When you touched me intimately, I wanted you to keep going, to touch me everywhere…do whatever you want because I know it will be good.” Her arms around his shoulders squeezed him. “I’m not making sense am I?”
“You make perfect sense.”
She grinned, weak kneed from being well-sexed and loose-limbed and they’d hardly started. “You know what? I don’t even know your last name, but I know someday we’ll share it.”
“It’s Lockhart. AJ Lockhart.”
“Jennifer Lockhart,” she said aloud. “That doesn’t freak you out? Me saying that?”
“No. I’m going to ask you to marry me…after you ask me out for a few more dates.” AJ’s grin was infectious. His buzz cut and hard angles should’ve made him dangerous, instead AJ was pure boyish charm making her heart thump faster.
“You make me feel so safe and protected.” She kissed his shoulder. “The hero who can take on the world for me.”
He brushed back hair falling across her eyes. “Compared to the life you’ve lived, I’m anything but safe. My house is small and I work a long hard work week.” He paused and his voice pitched with intention as he vowed, “I will take care of you.”
“AJ, you make my body purr and my heart sing. When I’m with you, I feel…like a new woman. I can do anything with you by my side.” She shook her head, gazing into his eyes. “Is it crazy to feel this after four days?”
“I don’t know….guess we’ll have a lifetime to answer that, won’t we?”
He tucked her head against his shoulder, letting the storm wash over them. It was one night they’d string with many more, working through life together. She knew it in her bones. So did AJ. Love smashed their safe boundaries, made them take a chance four nights past in the most unlikely of places. Their reward? A life rich in love for each other for decades to come.
“Yeah, AJ,” she said against his neck. “We’ll take a lifetime with this.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hi, I’m Gina Conkle, writer of Viking and Georgian romance, which makes for interesting characters in my head. With Waiting for a Girl Like You, you can tell I’ve jumped outside my comfort zone into contemporary romance. I hope you liked it.
I’ve been a long time romance reader, starting with Disney’s princes and princesses. I grew up in southern California and despite all that sunshine, I love books over beaches and stone castles over sand castles. Now I live in Michigan with my favorite alpha male, Brian, and our two sons where I’m known to occasionally garden and cook.
Cheers to you, Reader!
~Gina
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BOOK LIST
Norse series
(Viking romance)
Norse Jewel, Book 1
To Find a Viking Treasure, Book 2
Midnight Meetings series
(Georgian romance)
Meet the Earl at Midnight, Book 1
The Lady Meets Her Match, Book 2
The Lord Meets His Lady, Book 3 (coming Dec, 2017)
Do you like hot, Viking heroes?
Here’s an exclusive excerpt from To Find a Viking Treasure…
A tale of romance between a rough-souled Viking warrior named Brandr and
the flame-haired thrall named Sestra.
The two have always traded barbs, but to save the kingdom of Uppsala, they must work together to find a hidden treasure before time runs out. On the trail, their clash of wills escalates to an explosive, sensual heat. Secrets unfold…leading to a heart-stopping sacrifice on their quest to find a Viking treasure.
The fine hairs on her neck stood on end as a pair of familiar black leather boots cross-gartered with frayed leather stepped into view.
Brandr.
Cheeks flushing hotly, a groan caught in her throat. There was no graceful way out of this.
She released the awkward grip on her bodice and raised her head, meeting the Viking’s mocking grin with a tight-lipped smile. Tarnished silver eyes pierced her from the shadows where the savage warrior stood, a thumb hooked in his belt.
“Sestra.”
Her skin prickled. Brandr’s deep voice marked her when he said her name, the same way a wild beast’s growl did when stalking prey in a midnight forest. Strength rippled under his black tunic stretched across shoulders broad enough to block out the light. By Viking standards, he was barely tame, preferring the woods to Uppsala’s people. His edge, born of a near-feral nature or simply hard man, weakened her knees. The warrior rattled her, and he knew it.
And tonight he’d sought her.
“What are you looking at?” she snapped, rocking back on her heels. It was a good effort to restore faltering confidence.
“You.” His graveled voice rumbled with humor.
“At least we know your eyes work.”
Brandr’s grin split wider. “The rest of me does too, but you won’t get your work done hiding back here.”
She itched to slap the smirk off his face. Of all men, he had to be the one to witness her, ducking behind a barrel, ale-splashed breasts jiggling as she struggled with ill-fitting clothes.
The Viking leaned against a post, holding a drinking horn casually against his thigh. “Got a problem with your clothes?”
“I’m sure you have better things to do than worry about my tunic.”
“Looked like you needed help. You usually do.” He took a drink, eyeing the empty pitchers and uncut vegetables.
Her knees hurt, a reminder she was kneeling on the floor. Bellows rose from the crowd and through a crack between two barrels, she witnessed two red-faced men. One banged a fist on the table, sending wooden bowls clattering against empty drinking horns in their stands. Someone needed to fill those drinking horns. Duty called.
“You could be the last man standing,” she said, pushing to full height. “And I’d not ask for your help.”
She snatched her apron to her chest. Dabbing the excess ale bothered already sensitive skin. How was it her ears found his voice in all the noise? The Viking was never friendly.
Brandr taunted her most nights in his unhurried way, but she got him back. Spilling mead on his boots at feasts. Serving food to others first, giving his portion last. Or not at all. His self-assured gaze would follow her before the warrior got off his seat, giving her a slight nod as he ambled off to fetch his food.
Besting him thrilled her, made her blood race at their strange game of cat and mouse. Standing in the smoky longhouse, drying off her skin, she had an inkling Brandr fed on it too. Yet, he’d never groped her and never demanded she lay with him. He’d not touched her at all.
Her hands slowed on tingling skin. Was that why he sought her now?
“Missed a spot,” he said, eyeing her low neckline.
She glanced down. Her nipples pinched to hard, pebbled points as a slow trickle of wetness disappeared between her breasts. Brandr’s grin was a slash of white against black whiskers as if he knew what her body would do and wasn’t disappointed. Her mouth opened with a ready retort, but she froze.
Was he the one who’d take her?
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