by Anne Marsh
Oh, she was a delight. That blush contradicted her sassy tone. His little beta was trying to show him to the door, but no way would he leave her alone now. Not with her creamy invitation flooding his senses.
He laughed. “Naw, chère. A gentleman, he’d be slippin’ right up there behind you to lend a hand.”
Damned if she didn’t think about his words, so he kept right on talking. “You got room for two in there, sha? I’m happy to be helpin’ you out. I’m thinkin’ you’d like my hands on you just fine. Invite me in.”
Mary Jane might be the prettiest, softest, pinkest female he'd encountered, but she was stubborn. That was both interesting and unexpected. She arched again, her fingers dipping lower. Christ. She was killing him here.
Framed by the fabric of the sleeping bag, her legs parted like they had a mind of their own, and she snapped them shut. She couldn’t keep still, though, her legs rubbing restlessly together. Resisting so hard didn’t make sense. Some things you couldn’t stop, and the arousal ripping through her body right now was one of those things.
“This isn’t like me.” The words flew out of her, her back arching up even higher, a tight little bow that had her heels pushing against the porch.
Too shy to demand what she wanted, and that made him want to smile. “You’re turned on. Aroused. Wet.” He wouldn’t let her hide from the words. “Your body wants sex. Right now. You wan’ someone to fuck you hard.”
She glared at him. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
And that wasn’t a denial.
“Nope.” He didn’t move, watching her with the innate stillness of the predator he was. A pink flush stained her skin, her throat and chest. His wolf whined. “I don’ think it was.”
Her fingers got busier, but he couldn’t see as how she was getting where she wanted to be going. The shudders racking her body were fine tremors now, her legs scissoring apart as she groaned in frustration because there was nothing she could do to stem the tidal wave. Yeah. She was riding the express train to orgasm here, and he was so onboard with that plan.
“I won’ make you wait,” he observed.
“You think you can do this better?” Her glare reminded him his little cat had claws.
So did he. He knew the slow, dark smile tugging at the corner of his mouth wasn't nice. Her eyes widened—because she clearly saw that nasty side too—but he opened his mouth anyhow and gave her the truth. He didn’t dress it up in pretty words either. “You wan’ me to help you, that’s what I’ll do, honey. Fuck you. I’ll put myself inside you, fuck you fast and hard, in and out, until you feel me everywhere.”
Mary Jane was a good woman. Everything he’d seen about her on the boat today said she was all that was sweet and honorable. She did what she said, and she hurt no one when she went about her business. This kind of female didn't choose males like him. Maybe in another century or even another lifetime, those females had. When everyday living was a choice of kill or get killed. Now, humans were more civilized, and the only place for his kind was on the edges.
Tonight, though, she was offering him a taste of heaven and no way would he refuse.
She eyed his body greedily, and his erection sure didn't get the message that this evening was the end of the road. No, that erection was an iron-hard bar pressing against the front of his pants, begging to get inside Mary Jane. Which was so not happening.
“So do it.” The sensual demand in her brown eyes set him on fire. “If you want to play doctor here, do it. Make me feel better. Make me feel good, Landry.”
Landry wanted Mary Jane on her knees, her lips opening up to take him deep. He wanted to fuck her pretty mouth until he came and she swallowed his come. At the same time, her scent called to him with a siren’s lure, demanding he push her thighs apart and lick everywhere she was wet and lush.
Being he was a gentleman—sometimes—he’d take care of her first. Hell, she was spread out like a feast, touching herself. He figured he didn’t need words. All he had to do was slide in there behind her and help her take care of business.
Forget the words discussion they’d had when he’d signed on and the rules she’d placed on their relationship. Right now, she wasn’t the captain and he was no deckhand.
“Lie down.” Hell. That harsh, guttural growl was his voice. He shouldn’t touch her like this, not when the wolf was so close to the surface and he was waiting on the moon to come up.
He wasn’t stopping.
Hell no. No one had ever accused Landry Breaux of being too much of a gentleman, and he’d reached his limits tonight all right.
She hesitated, and the dom in him wasn’t letting her get away with that little act of defiance.
“You do it, sha.” He towered over her, his size underscoring her feminine vulnerability. She’d give him this, though. He suspected their Mary Jane was a submissive at heart, and he’d make sure she got the pleasure she deserved.
###
Landry was big and demanding. He stood over her like some kind of medieval lord, and strangely that made her want him more. Just as she was ready to tell herself this shouldn’t happen like this, that she couldn’t let him dominate her, the surge of wetness between her thighs told her precisely why she was going to do this. He was six feet of pure luscious, and she wanted a taste. Now.
Tonight didn’t count.
She settled back. The boards of the porch bit into her back, the sleeping bag no real protection from that hard reality. She had no idea what to do with her hands. This was both awkward and about as unsexy as it got, but then she saw Landry’s eyes. Almost glowing in the dark, his eyes looked like heated, liquid gold. He wanted her. This wasn’t some game he was playing with her.
“There’s a good honey.” He didn’t move any closer, and she bit back the needy moan rising to her lips. He was near enough to touch her and yet he wasn’t.
“Landry?”
“Shhh,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m goin’ to look at you jus’ a minute here. You have any idea how pretty you look, Mary Jane? How good you smell? Open up your legs for me.”
Before she could second-guess herself or him, she parted her thighs. The denim shorts dug into her sensitive skin as she shifted, giving him a peek of the softer, vulnerable skin where the shorts ended. When she moved again, she knew she was flashing him the lace edging her panties.
“Real pretty.” He crouched down, his big hands catching her knees and pushing her wider. Holding her open.
She could smell her own arousal, and that was an embarrassment she hadn’t planned on. Flushing, she tried to wriggle away.
“Uh-uh,” he chided. “You don’ go anywhere now.”
He ran his thumbs up her thighs, massaging the tense muscle there. His touch felt good, so good, but she was caught between the nervous, delicious desire and that pleasure. She’d invited him to touch her, and he was making it clear he’d do so. On his terms.
His thumbs dipped into the hollow where her thighs met. Her skin there was ticklish. Exquisitely sensitive. She wanted to scoot closer, shove her pussy along his fingers and take what she craved. And yet she also needed to get away, to put some distance between them. She was so wet that her panties were soaked. Maybe he’d be put off by that, maybe he’d think she was too easy.
When she squirmed uneasily, he pinned her in place effortlessly. One big thumb slid up and down that crease, and she held her breath, not moving. What would he do next? What did she want him to do?
Those dark eyes watched her. “Take the shorts off.”
She undid the top button and lowered the zipper, flinching at the impossibly loud rasp of sound. Her fingers trembled, paused.
His eyes dropped straight to the waistband of her panties. Pink and lacy, her favorite pair sported a saucy little bow at the top of her crotch. She sure hadn’t planned on showing them to anyone, but his gaze darkened and he smiled. Slow and knowing. She was in so much trouble.
“Who’s in charge here, Mary Jane?” His rough growl sounded hungry. C
onfident. He knew what he was doing—she was the one who didn’t. “The shorts come off. Now.”
She blinked up at him. Opened her mouth and then closed it. She’d known he’d take charge, but the words were shockingly blunt. And erotic. Oh God, his rough command got her going. She didn’t know what that said about her, but she wanted to see where he’d take this attraction between them. Desperately. Obediently, she pushed the denim down her thighs, and he took them the rest of the way.
“Here’s your firs’ clue, sha.” He pressed his mouth against her lace-covered pussy, and heat shot through her. “It’s not you.”
He nipped. She screamed with the sudden shock of pleasure, her cry echoing around the bayou.
“Let’s try my question again. You tell me who’s in charge.”
“You,” she breathed. “Landry.”
“That’s right, honey. You invite the big bad wolf into your bed, you let him see this pretty pussy of yours…” He dragged his thumb up her slick channel, pressing firmly against the hard bud at the top, and a low, keening moan tore from her own throat, “…and he’s goin’ to eat you up. You asked for this.”
He leaned closer, and she felt his next words against her aching, needy flesh. “I’m goin’ to take real good care of you.”
One quick tug of his fingers and her panties were gone.
In the next moment, he had her thighs spread over his shoulders, his big, sure hands cupping her ass and pulling her towards his mouth. No problem there, because she was with him every inch of the way. She wanted him. No matter how this complicated tomorrow, she wanted Landry Breaux looking at her like she was his sweet treat.
His head lowered, and his mouth covered her. There was nothing subtle about his touch. His tongue parted her folds in one long, slow lick from top to bottom. He opened her up, dragging himself over her swollen flesh. Her fingers tangled in his hair, soft, silky where the man himself was all hard.
Landry Breaux. Eating her up like she was his sweet treat.
The pleasure shot through her, building fast. Her thighs shook, the muscles of her ass tensing and clenching as she pushed herself against his tongue. Moans and gasps tore from her throat, but all that mattered was him tasting her, exploring every hidden, secret fold. When he rasped the side of her clit, she keened.
Another moan escaped before she could bite back the needy sound and “God, Landry. I’m close.”
“Tell me,” he growled, and she felt that demand through her entire body.
She was so close, the orgasm trembling out of reach. She’d never let go, not like this.
“More,” she demanded, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. Damned if she was going to beg him anymore. He could give her what she wanted. They both knew that. So he could do it. Now.
He laughed and went back to work, sucking her clit into his talented mouth. A wet finger slid deliberately into her ass, and she bucked. Oh God. The dark sensations were unspeakably good, each firm stroke opening her up, pushing deeper.
“You like that,” he asked, lifting his head for a moment. “You okay, Mary Jane?”
His finger rubbed, finding a spot that had her arching.
“God, yes,” she whispered, tugging at his hair to bring him back. “Don’t you dare stop now, Landry Breaux.”
He didn’t stop. He gave her what she wanted. He sucked at her folds, licking her with devilish skill, until she stopped caring what she looked or sounded like, just moved against his mouth and the finger spearing her rear. Rode him long and hard until she came, the orgasm roaring into the dark, sweet night.
###
Landry loved making Mary Jane come. Despite the erection demanding he push inside her hot channel, he wanted to kiss her sweet pussy again. Make her come a second time. Her soft sighs of satisfaction as she eased down from her peak made him feel like a fucking king even as the sounds filled him with a primitive satisfaction. She hadn’t come for anyone else like that, he’d bet money on it, and she’d come for him first. He loved it all—her sexy little whimpers, the small sob as she caught her breath and sagged back against his hands. He popped his finger free of her ass—God, he was going to enjoy taking her there—and gently lowered her onto the sleeping bag.
His turn.
His dick was hard, and every inch of him wanted inside his Mary Jane. A quick peek at the sky showed him nothing. The clouds still covered the moon.
Better yet, he’d learned something about his Mary Jane tonight. She liked direction. Hell, she’d come to pieces, riding his mouth, his finger tucked deep in her ass. Still, he had to be sure.
“You okay?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “You’re asking that now?”
“Better late than never,” he growled, “and I’m waitin’ for my answer, honey. You don’ let me hurt you, you got that? This is about me makin’ you feel real good. You tell me if I did that.”
Her pink blush was followed by a shy nod. Her submissive side delighted him. Hell, the fantasies he had of showing her some kinkier pleasures, of teaching her, were wicked enough to make him come on the spot. Yeah. That would be damned good. He’d lead and she’d follow, exploring the darker side of sensual delights. He’d coax her and tease her. Take her hard.
All his.
“Open up,” he decided.
She looked at him, and he ran a finger over her lips.
“Open up,” he repeated, making sure she heard the demand in his voice. “I wan’ to be inside your mouth.”
“Yes,” she said. Her hand pushed him down, and he went happily. When she had him on his back, he raised up on his arms. She knelt before him, between his parted thighs, and he was one dirty bastard because that submissive position made him harder. He wanted to bend her over and take her from behind. Push in and out of that snug little channel until she came again for him.
Her fingers skimmed delicately up and down his shaft. The light touch barely grazed his aching flesh, but damned if he didn’t feel that gentle pressure all the way to his core. There was a connection between them. This was his female—and he was every bit as much hers as she was his. He welcomed the connection, and that was unusual enough that he almost got the hell out of Dodge thinking about it.
Except that she sucked the aching tip of his cock into her mouth, and the wet friction drove all rational thought out of his head. She slid down, and he pushed up, sinking in with an erotic pop of sound. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue stroking the head of his cock, and, Christ, he was going to come right on the spot.
“Deeper,” he demanded, and she gave him what he wanted.
Over and over, she rubbed on him. Got her tongue over him, running the damp tip up his cock, tracing the bulging vein until his hips were rolling with each erotic stroke. He’d had women take him like this before, but this was different. This was Mary Jane. Mary Jane fisting him, opening her mouth for him.
She looked up at him, checking to see how she was doing. That was an even bigger turn-on, brown eyes watching as she swallowed him, moving down his shaft.
The juicy slide of her mouth over him, the little humming thing she had going on as she got into what she was doing—he felt her right in his balls. Her hair whispered over his hands, and every sense he possessed was on high alert and focused on this woman bringing him off in the bayou. Christ, he was coming, and there was no stopping the sensual train slamming through his body.
“You might wan’ to let go, sha.” He groaned the words out, forcing his fingers to relax. Shooting himself down her throat, filling her with his come, that was erotic as hell, but he’d break her in gentle. Give her a chance to get used to him first before he turned nasty.
She didn’t loose her hold on him. Hell, her fingers tightened, and his balls tensed, and the orgasm took him hot and fast. Asking for it. He emptied his dick into her, jerking against the hot pull of her mouth as she swallowed.
When she finally slipped free and sank back on her haunches, she smiled, and that was almost a bigger tur
n-on than the way she’d sucked him dry.
“You like that?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” she said, “but not as much as you did.”
“That’s a safe bet.” He touched her hair gently, tucking an errant strand behind her ear. “You got a wild side, sha. Dre’s goin’ to eat you up.”
Chapter Four
“Dre?” Landry’s statement stunned her. Out here with Landry, and he wanted to bring his brother into this? Never mind that small, forbidden pulse of pleasure the thought brought. What kind of woman did Landry believe she was?
Landry didn’t answer, just levered smoothly to his feet, fastening his jeans in a practiced movement. Disappointment lanced through her. Mr. Bayou Bad Boy had had his fun, and now he was clearly leaving. Scanning the cypress trees around them, he pulled on his boots and T-shirt.
“Let’s get you back to the boat,” he said as she dragged the sleeping bag around her. Her clothes were still scattered on the porch. The smell of sex and them lingered on her skin, mixing with the bayou’s own earthy night scents. Landry was beautiful, standing there half-dressed. Sexy as hell, and she appreciated that.
He really didn’t get to give her orders, though, even if he did get to give orgasms.
Captain, she reminded herself. Don’t back down now.
“I’m fine right here.”
Still, she reached for her clothes, because sitting around naked put her at too much of a disadvantage. It would have been nice to spend a few more minutes wrapped in Landry’s arms, savoring what had happened between them, but if he had an itch to get moving, she wasn’t asking him to stay put.
She wouldn’t be the needy lover.
He shook his head and crouched beside her, hands resting loosely on his splayed thighs. He seemed ready to spring into action, but there was nothing threatening about the bayou night.
“Please,” he said, and that word surprised her. Her lips parted, and he pressed a finger lightly against them. “Trust me on this one, sha. Tonight’s not a good night to be out and about, wanderin’ in the bayou.”
He tipped his head back, searching the sky. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but the clouds still covered the moon. That layer was fading away now, so there’d be starlight soon, but right now everything was good and dark.
