The Derby Girl

by Tamara Morgan

  He growled softly, and she could see that she struck a nerve.

  “So now that you know my vine leads nowhere,” she said, shifting closer to him in an attempt to divert the sudden downward turn of his mouth, “what comes next? The big enigma has been uncovered. You’ve seen it all now.”

  He paused thoughtfully, eyes roaming as they took in the rest of her. “I’ll admit to still being curious about that snake. Specifically, where it disappears between your legs. I didn’t get a very good look the other day. I was busy.”

  Of course he was curious about that. Next to trying to cure her of tickling, men loved the snake the most.

  She wished she could say that her tattoos had some kind of deep significance, that each one told a story or showcased a part of her life history, but the truth was that she’d been young and rebellious and determined to cover as much of her as possible. She’d started with her arms, filling her sleeves with whatever picture looked neat and happened to fit on the space she had left. She would have kept going too—covered her whole body—but the tickling got in the way. And then her fixation with tattoos had fallen away, as was the case with everything else she’d ever attempted in this life.

  She was a half-finished project. A work in progress. An incomplete set.

  Jared’s hand gripped her ankle, and she realized he meant to trace the snake’s path at that exact moment. She tried to lie back and relax—enjoy the whirlwind ride—when she realized where they were. Once again in public. Once again about to put on a show.

  “Jared! Are you absolutely sure none of your neighbors can see into this yard?” She swatted at his hands as they reached up her skirt. With that glint in his eyes, she was pretty sure he had no idea of stopping until he’d stripped her bare and investigated the landing point of the snake’s forked tongue. It went exactly where one would expect a forked tongue to go. Needless to say—that sucker had hurt.

  “Don’t interrupt. I’m going to need a good glimpse of your backside as well.”

  “If I remember correctly, you’ve had a pretty good glimpse of that already.”

  “I prefer to be very thorough,” he said in his best doctor voice. Expertly, he placed one hand under her back and flipped her onto her stomach to continue his perusal.

  Splinters suddenly seemed a very real possibility, as her stomach lay flat against the deck and he was doing his best to make her squirm, but it was impossible to care when his fingers moved deftly along the back of her thigh, tracing her tattoo, not stopping when he reached the end. A finger slipped inside the hem of her underwear, a tiny black scrap of fabric she wore only on very special occasions.

  There was no mistaking this man’s medical expertise now. From the way he ran a hand along the slick heat of her body, it was clear he knew all about a woman’s various parts and how best to handle them.

  “You’re not even looking,” she complained, though the words became muddled as her breath came fast and short. Tickling might make her unintentionally violent toward this man, but she wasn’t immune to this.

  “Oh, yes I am.”

  She twisted her head to peer up at him. True to his word, he was looking—but not at the snake or any of her exposed parts. His gaze was concentrated on the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the spill of hair that obscured her vision. As he leaned down to plant a soft, intimate kiss on her neck, he slipped a finger inside her, causing her to release a cry and buck against his hand.

  Gretchen no longer cared about the damn neighbors. Rolling onto her back, she took him with her, their bodies twisting until he suspended above her. His lips met hers in a crashing kiss, all of the softness gone—though, fortunately, the intimacy remained.

  Jared kissed the same way he appeared—confident and strong, but with an underlying vulnerability that made her long to comfort him. His lips were insistent, his tongue sweeping a warpath through her mouth, leaving her breathless and dizzy. While those might be signs of a man who only wanted to rip off her clothes and follow the snake’s path to sin, he held a part of himself back.

  She wasn’t sure how she knew, or even what that part of himself was, but when he pushed her hair out of her face and gazed at her with worship in his eyes, she felt it. Before she made the mistake of asking him what was wrong, he grinned—that impish, cocky, heart-melting grin that she had yet to see him bestow on anyone but her.

  And there was no mistaking that look. “Don’t you dare.”

  He dared.

  Fortunately, if there was one skill Gretchen had been able to perfect in her nomadic path through adulthood, it was good reflexes. Being able to avoid wheeling, crashing bodies was kind of her thing.

  Rolling to avoid his fingers approaching her from the side, she was up on her feet and running from him as fast as her feet could take her. Half-undressed, legs wobbling with the lingering quake of desire, she dashed down the deck and into the backyard. She’d forgotten, though, that the tent stood there, a dark and dingy reminder that all was not well in Jared’s world. She skidded to a halt by the front flap, not daring to peek inside but curious just the same.

  A full minute passed before Jared joined her. She felt him approach rather than heard him, his body warm against hers where they didn’t touch.

  “It’s not as uncomfortable as it looks.” Then, “Well, it probably is. But I’m used to it. And to be honest, I don’t sleep that much anymore.”

  There it was again, that lost tone, that almost desperate plea in his voice. Did he want her to tell him it didn’t matter? Did he need her to take his hand and promise him that no one expected him to be perfect, no matter how many medical degrees and government accolades lined his walls?

  “Can I go in?” she asked.

  He shrugged. Since it was as much of an assent as she assumed she’d get, she pushed back the canvas flap and peered in.

  Gretchen didn’t know a lot about camping—she’d grown up in a household of girls who enjoyed things like tables and glassware and a lack of bears sniffing around—but this was not camping. The tent was taller on the inside than it looked, so much so she could stand on one side without brushing her head on the canvas. It was roomy too, with a partition down the middle that separated his sleeping space from what looked like the inside of a Moroccan restaurant. A thick carpet covered the floor, pillows lined along one side to provide a lush lounging area—there was even a bookshelf pushed back against the far wall.

  Emboldened by Jared’s silent stoicism at her back, she peered into the sleeping side. There, at least, he had set up what looked like a military-grade cot, though the bedding was pretty luxurious.

  “Geez—you didn’t tell me it was a palace in here. This is nicer than where I live.”

  “I like it.” He spoke into the side of her neck. “It feels more like home to me than that pile of rocks and drywall over there.”

  “What about when winter comes? I don’t think you realize how cold an upstate Pennsylvania snowstorm can be.”

  “And I don’t think you realize how hot a tent can get when there are two people inside.” His lips nuzzled at her ear. “Care to find out?”

  She did. She really, really did.

  But before she could force Jared to put some action behind his words, he stopped and cupped her face. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with this tent. I love many of the memories I made here. I hate just as many. I love that it has kept me safe. I hate that I still need it.”

  In the deepening evening air, all light shut out by the heavy canvas, it was difficult to make out his expression. She hoped he was smiling. Or at least not scowling.

  “But you know what?” he asked. “Right now, with you, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

  Zoom. Whoosh. Dead. Why did she even try anymore? Jared might stiffen when she told him he wasn’t a god, but wh
en he talked to her like that, she was his to command.

  Her breath came hard and fast as he moved his hand down, deftly lifting her shirt and whisking it over her head. Her bra wasn’t far behind. Each twitch of muscle, each dark look Jared threw her way—they pounded between her legs until she was pretty sure she was providing the soundtrack to this particular union.

  “Shall I tell you what I intend to do to you?” he asked, drawing close. Even though he knew her weakness now, he didn’t push it, avoiding her sides and staring, enraptured, at her chest. Her nipples tightened with anticipation, her breasts growing heavy with accelerated blood flow.

  “I’m listening,” she managed, striving to give nothing away. It was becoming exhausting, always arriving in second place where this man was concerned. How nice it would be to cause Jared’s parts to quiver for a change. How heady to know he might also feel adrift in her presence.

  “First, I’m going to kiss you.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  He ignored her and lifted a hand to trace her lips. It wasn’t the kiss he promised, but still she shivered. There was something about the light, almost tentative exploration of his touch that felt more intimate than a mere kiss.

  “Then I’m going to lower you to these pillows, which you’ll find are much more accommodating than they first appear. They’ll make excellent sex pillows. They could even be orgy pillows.”

  “Orgies don’t require pillows. They require more than two people,” she pointed out. The rest didn’t sound so bad, though.

  His hand moved lower, tracing the line of her neck. “You’re making it very hard for me to seduce you right now. Use your imagination.”

  She put out her lower lip in a pout. “Maybe if you focused less on what you are going to do and concentrate more on me, I’d be a more willing participant.”

  Even though the filtered canvas made everything feel somewhat like a darkroom, she could see the flash of Jared’s eyes as his grip on her neck tightened. “Is this another lesson in humility?”

  “Maybe I just want to hear how hard I’m going to scream.”

  “Loud.” His hand moved to fist her hair, dipping her head back and exposing her neck to his so-close lips. “Loud enough for an entire orgy.”

  As promised, Jared started with a kiss. His lips met hers with a fierce possession, his tongue past her barriers and deep in her mouth before she knew what hit her. With his hand tangled in her hair, she couldn’t pull away, but neither did she care to. Jared kissing her like that—like his life depended on it, like she was the air he needed to survive—had a way of making the entire world fall away, leaving her with nothing but a throbbing at her core and a hot, searing desire that filled her belly and made her legs go weak.

  Which was why Jared’s low growl and masterful sweep came as such a welcome surprise. Once again true to promise, he swung her legs up over one arm and braced her back with the other, bringing her head to rest on an overstuffed orange pillow.

  “I hope these aren’t actual sex pillows,” she murmured, clinging to Jared’s neck and unwilling to let go. “I bet there’s no great laundering service in the third world. In fact, the whole idea of sex pillows is kind of disgusting.”

  “You talk too much,” Jared said and silenced her with a kiss.

  As soon as he was forced to allow them air to breathe, she started again. “Lecture hall dry hump. Bathroom sex. Tent sex. What comes after that, I wonder? Should we get airplane tickets somewhere so we can join the mile high club? Ooh, or maybe your parents’ house. I bet you’ve never done it there.”

  His hands gripped her thighs tightly. “Woman, don’t you know that the only words coming out of your mouth when you’re half-naked and spread wide open are yes, more and, if you’re so inclined, fill me, you beast?”

  Yes. More. Fill me, you beast. All those things seemed appropriate, especially if he’d start his hands moving again, pushing button A and whirling knob B the way only he knew how.

  “Yes, you can fill me, you beastly, egotistical bastard, but only if you ask nicely.”

  His laughter rumbled in his chest, shaking her whole body along with it. Moving down along her neck, his teeth nipping her skin in that way he had of almost devouring her, he paused just long enough to speak. “Ms. Gretchen Badgerton, nothing would give me more pleasure than to fuck you senseless right now.” He peeked up through his unfairly dark lashes. “May I?”

  All she got out was a guttural sound that ripped from her lungs as he lifted her legs around his hips. One strong hand pushed her flat against the pillows, leaving her a clear view of dark canvas and the pounding of her own blood. She struggled to sit up, but Jared kept her firmly against the ground while he unzipped his pants and deftly rolled a condom over his length. Well, his girth. This man was truly gifted in terms of circumference, the thick, pulsing heat of his cock a lot like the rest of him—blunt and forceful and capable of making her scream.

  The head of said cock stopped at her entrance, stretching wide and aching with the desire to take him completely in.

  “You didn’t technically say yes yet,” he pointed out, firming his grasp on her hips.

  “Now is when you decide to bring out the manners?” she managed. She anchored her legs around his hips and tried to push herself against him, but as always, his strength came as a delicious surprise. He could hold her there all night, not taking, not giving, an iron statue of alternating fire and ice. “Fuck me, please. Pretty please. With sugar on top.”

  “Thank you.” He groaned and slowly thrust into her, taking his time as she stretched to accommodate him. She closed her eyes and lost herself in an explosion of sensation, of Jared’s fierce grip on her hips holding her firm while he moved in and out, of Jared’s mouth covering hers with a possessive growl. Perhaps best of all, her ankles hitched just above his ass, and she could feel the ripples of his muscles as he worked their bodies together. She loved the robust movements of a man’s ass as he thrust, the clenching and unclenching that was so graceless and feral and somehow the most beautiful thing in the world.

  “Jesus, Gretchen.” He slowed his movements so abruptly her eyes flew open.

  “What?”

  “If you’re going to keep moaning and writhing like that, I can’t promise I’ll be able to hold on much longer. Maybe you should start talking again.”

  She hadn’t even been aware she was moaning and writhing, but seeing as how pretty much only her torso remained on the ground and she’d anchored herself almost completely to Jared’s body, it was possible to see how that might have become a problem.

  “What should I talk about?” she asked. Clasping her ankles more firmly—she had very strong legs—she felt the clench of her own body where it wrapped around Jared’s cock. “Should I tell you how tight my nipples are right now? Will that help?”

  “No. That makes it worse.” He growled and leaned down to take one into his mouth.

  She grabbed him around the waist, pulling him close. Unable to control himself, Jared resumed his hard fucking, rocking the pillows—and her—with each thrust. There was no going back, no holding back, and her body slipped out of her control and into a powerful wave of pleasure.

  She must have cried out loud, because Jared muttered a loud “Fuck” before taking possession of her mouth. Her internal muscles clenched and grabbed at him until he let out a not-so-discreet noise of his own and collapsed against her.

  They lay there, sated and exhausted, long enough for Gretchen’s legs to go numb. She pushed him away gently, not wanting to disrupt the intimacy of the afterglow but still very much in need of her circulation back.

  As Jared rolled to the side, she caught a glimpse of his face. He didn’t bear the smug look one might expect from a man in his position. He looked peaceful. And tender. And more content with himself than he’d been in a long time.

&nbs
p; “I really hope your neighbors can’t look into your backyard or anything,” she said. “We need to take a good, hard look at our exhibitionist tendencies.”

  He seemed hurt. “There are four walls. And sex pillows.”

  She’d thought this might be a good time to discuss the concept that sex could also be had quite nicely in a regular location, but it seemed cruel to take away his happiness for a much-belated attempt at modesty. Something about seedy sex put this man at his ease.

  As said seedy sex wasn’t too bad from her point of view either, she decided to let him have it. For now.

  “Fine. But if a grainy, shaky sex tape of this shows up on the internet tomorrow, you better be prepared to track the guy down. I have your reputation to consider.”

  “You’re fighting a losing battle.” He shook his head. “Sex tapes between single people only damage women’s reputations. Mine would remain intact. It would probably even improve it.”

  “That is misogynistic and completely unfair.”

  “Do you want to try it anyway?”

  She swatted him gently on the chest, her limbs wobbly. Once again, she had a hard time imagining being able to walk after relations with this man. “It’s very generous of you to offer, but I’ll pass.”

  “You’re no fun.” He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over her lips.

  “I’m tons of fun,” she countered, accepting it.

  She just wasn’t nearly as depraved as he thought she was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jared set his dirty plate on the floor, watching with a fond smile as Max scurried around the corner and began greedily lapping at the remains of his beef with broccoli.

  “Liar.” Gretchen placed her own plate in the sink. “That is not a perfectly balanced protein diet. You and Max live like animals.”

  “I already told you I could get a bed. What size do you want?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “King?”

  “I was referring to the dining situation.”

  He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his head in her neck. Giving her a quick—yes, ticklish—squeeze, he murmured, “I’d rather just date a culinary student, if it’s all the same to you.” And then he ran off before she could swat him.