by Leigh, Lora
“Oh my,” she panted. “Wasn’t that too bad?”
Her lips curled in satisfied pleasure. She wasn’t finished by a long shot, but she was definitely vibrating from the pleasure that had spiraled through her. She was weak, almost relaxed, and waiting for more.
“My turn,” he growled, and excitement sizzled through her veins as he pulled back, turned her, and leaned against the wall.
Rogue licked her lips, then raked her teeth over the lower curve as he took her hands and pulled them to his belt. His gaze was narrowed, watching, probing. Something warned her that if he ever realized she had never done this before, then she could kiss him good-bye right now.
She wasn’t saying a damned thing.
The metal button released, the zipper rasped down. A second later she was swallowing tightly as the dark-crested length of his erection was pulled free.
He palmed the shaft, watched her intently.
Okay. She’d read about this. She’d watched it on some movies she’d rented. She’d dreamed about doing it. She ached to taste him.
She laid her lips against his chest and felt him tighten. One hand returned to her hair, his fingers bunching in it as he pressed her closer, lower.
He tasted hot and male, wild. The short chest hairs tickled her nose, but the taste of his flesh was more than worth it. Feeling him tighten, feeling the power that surged through her as his groan echoed around her.
He enjoyed her touch.
She flattened her hands on his abdomen, slid them down slowly as she moved lower, lower. Her heart was racing in her chest, fear and desire, excitement and uncertainty racing through her.
She wanted him to enjoy her touch. She was terrified he would guess her inexperience.
Remember the movies, she told herself. Those women knew what they were doing. Think, Rogue. Think.
Her lips slid over his abdomen as she gripped his thighs. He was breathing hard, his abs flexing, his thighs tight.
Brushing his hand away from his erection she let her fingers curl around it and moaned at the feeling of silk-covered, heated iron. Blood throbbed along the heavy shaft as a bead of moisture gathered in the small slit on the crest.
She was breathless, mesmerized. Kneeling before him, holding the hard length of his cock in her hand, she felt alive, energized.
Her tongue peeked from between her lips, lapped at the creamy droplet, and her lashes fluttered over her eyes at the salty male taste of him combined with the sensual sound of a male curse of pleasure.
Okay, she was doing okay.
She licked and his hands tightened in her hair. She opened her lips and drew the hard crown between them, sucking it into her mouth, and felt his other hand slide into her hair, holding her in place.
“Damn, Rogue.” The sound of his voice was a spark of pleasure along her clit and inside her aching sex. “Ah God. That’s good. So fucking good.”
She was so fucking good.
She sucked him deeper, rolled her tongue along the sensitive undercrest in an imitation of what she had read, and was rewarded by a savage flexing of the shaft she still held.
Oh God. This was so good. He was here, she was touching him, sucking him, and he was enjoying it. His hips were moving as she sucked, fucking against her mouth with smooth, controlled movements.
Rogue was shaking with anticipation now. Zeke was leaning back against the wall, his thighs were taut, his abdomen flexing, his cock throbbing between her lips as she caressed and licked, sucked and moaned around the rapidly thrusting flesh.
She stroked the shaft with both hands now, needing him. She wanted to taste him, wanted to feel him spilling into her mouth, wanted a part of him that she had never known from any other man.
“Damn. Yeah,” he groaned as her lashes lifted, her gaze locking with his.
And it was sexier. It was making her crazy. She could feel herself creaming, saturating her panties with her juices as he held her head tighter.
“Rogue, baby. I’m going to come. Damn.” He grimaced, his expression tortured as his breath became rougher. “Pull back.”
He pulled at her hair as defiance flashed through her. She wasn’t pulling back. This was hers. She had waited, fantasized. She had studied, ached. He wasn’t stealing this from her.
“Sweetheart. Damn you. I’m going to come, Rogue. Straight down your damned throat if you don’t pull back.”
She wasn’t pulling back. Her tongue worked beneath the thrusting shaft, her mouth suckled, drawing him deeper between her lips.
“Fuck.”
She felt his cock flex. He stilled, then dangerously tightened before a low groan preceded the first hard spurt of semen from the heavy cock head as it sank nearly to her throat.
Oh God. She felt herself shaking, trembling. She was coming. She could feel it. Her thighs tightened as her clit vibrated and throbbed and a lash of heat seared her body as he held her in place, growled her name, and spilled more of the heated, silken release to her mouth.
“Ah fuck,” he gasped. “Rogue. Son of a bitch, your mouth.”
His groan was followed by a slam. The slam of a door, a moment of surging tension.
“Oh hell.” A youthful male voice squeaked. “Oh fuck! Hell!” The door slammed again as Rogue’s eyes widened, staring up into Zeke’s harsh, granite expression as he stared across the room.
At the door straight across from them. The outside door. The one that would have given a clear view to exactly what the hell was going on. That someone being Zeke’s son.
If mortification could kill.
Rogue drew back and stumbled to her feet, her horrified gaze turning to the door, then to Zeke. He was still hard. Sweat sheened his chest and icy fury marked his expression.
“Well.” She swallowed. She could still taste him. She still burned for him. “I guess I can forget this going any further, huh?”
His gaze sliced to her silently.
Yeah. That was what she figured.
“Go talk to your son, Zeke.” She picked up her clothes from the floor when she really wanted to sink to the tile and sob. “I’ll get dressed and head home. Maybe I’ll see you again … sometime.”
She turned away from him. She wanted him to say something, anything. To blame her, to rage, whatever. After all, his teenage son had just caught him getting a blow job in the kitchen. It had to be a major catastrophe in any man’s life. It was sure as hell a major catastrophe in her life.
“Go home,” he told her, his voice hard despite its very softness. “We’ll talk later.”
Uh-huh. She just bet they would. Like never.
She glared at his retreating back as she jerked her bra on and hurriedly clipped it. With shaking hands she pulled her shirt over her head and jammed her arms into the proper holes. She held back her tears. She held back her anger.
Until she backed the Harley out of the garage. She hit the gas, spun enough gravel to leave a trench, and raced for the main road.
Fuck him. Fuck it all. She’d had enough.
EIGHT
Shane was slightly in shock. He paced the back deck, ran his fingers through his hair, and mumbled another curse. Hell. Some things a guy didn’t need to know about. Sometimes, a guy needed to be a little more careful.
Hell, he’d seen the Harley in the garage; he just hadn’t thought. His dad never brought women home. It was just something that never, ever happened. Especially in the middle of the day.
Sheriff Zeke Mayes didn’t do “nooners.” Shane almost laughed out loud. Hell, he didn’t know if he should be mortified or laughing. Because he’d wondered if his dad was some kind of fucking monk or something. At least now he knew that one wasn’t happening.
But hell, walking in on him? Him and Rogue Walker?
Shit. He’d had enough fantasies about Rogue himself; he didn’t need to see his dad doing her.
His dad was going to kill him. It was that simple. Shane had seen his face. His dad was freaking going to kill him. He flinched at the sound of the door op
ening behind him and closing softly. He paused, took a deep breath, then turned around.
Yeah, Dad was going to kill him. He was scowling at him, arms crossed over his re-buttoned uniform shirt, his expression forbidding.
“Look, I didn’t think.” Shane cleared his throat and tried the honesty route. “It just didn’t occur to me, you know?”
His dad was damned freaky about his privacy anyway. He was one of the most secretive people Shane knew, especially about his private life.
“Where’s your car?” his dad asked carefully.
Shane winced. “At the garage. I had a friend drop me off earlier. It was rattling. You know it had that rattle, Dad. I came home to get it fixed. And there are no classes tomorrow.”
He could feel the flush on his face and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. He wanted to cuss again, but knew better with his dad scowling at him like that.
“Sorry, Dad,” he finally muttered.
His father drew in a harsh breath before dropping his arms and stalking to the porch railing. They both listened to the sound of a Harley starting. The low throb of power, then Shane winced as it roared. Oh hell, Rogue was pissed off.
He glanced at his dad and watched his shoulders tighten, the way his jaw bunched as the cycle’s motor ripped through the silence of the valley on its journey to the main road.
“She’s pissed at me, too?” He sighed.
Zeke shook his head. “She’s not pissed at you.”
She was hurt. He’d seen that flash of pain in her eyes and hadn’t known how to deal with it. Hell, it wasn’t every day a man’s son walked in while he was getting blown.
“I didn’t see anything. Much,” Shane ventured hesitantly. “I turned my head. Fast.”
Zeke glanced over at him. “You saw enough.”
Shane cleared his throat before turning and gripping the railing. He stared out at the lake, his youthful expression still a combination of amazement and shock.
“Yeah. Enough.”
Shane rocked against the railing and this time, Zeke didn’t chastise him for it.
“It won’t happen again,” Shane ventured. “I mean, I moved out. I should, like, knock first or something. Not just barrel in when I know you have company.”
“That would be a start,” Zeke said heavily. Though he doubted there would be more “company.” Hell, he’d be lucky if Rogue didn’t kick his ass the next time she saw him. And he’d deserve it.
He should have said something. He should have promised to call later. Something. Hell, he’d just shot his cum down her throat and threw her out. He could feel himself cringing inside.
“Sorry, Dad,” Shane apologized again, but Zeke could hear the amusement in the boy’s voice. He didn’t blame him for being amused.
“I’ll kick your ass if you ever bring a girl here and let me catch you,” he warned Shane, just in case. Sometimes, with a boy that thought he was a man, it was best to lay the ground rules out front and center.
“Uh, yeah. Wouldn’t blame you.” Shane sounded as horrified as Zeke felt.
Shit. This was his son. There were things a man should never let his son, no matter how old he is, know about, let alone catch a glimpse of. And Rogue. She was gossiped about enough, she didn’t need her name tarnished further.
“And this won’t be mentioned,” he warned Shane. “Especially to your aunt Lucinda.”
Horror shaped Shane’s face. “Oh my God, you think I’d tell Aunt Big Mouth?” he gasped. “Come on, Dad. I like Rogue. She’s cool. Too good for you, but she’s cool.”
Zeke’s brows arched as Shane flushed again.
“Didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” he muttered.
“Then how did you mean it?” Zeke asked him carefully.
He mumbled.
“Come on, Shane,” he ordered. “If you’re going to run your mouth, be a man and stand by it.”
He had never let Shane shirk his responsibilities or his punishments. If he could run his mouth, then he could back it up.
“I didn’t mean to insult you.” Shane finally shrugged. “Well, kinda, I did.”
Zeke stared back at the boy silently as he turned and faced him. Shane’s eyes met his as his brows lowered into a fierce frown. He looked like an adult when he did that. Zeke didn’t like admitting Shane was becoming an adult.
“Look, I know Rogue’s half crazy over you,” Shane said then. “Even when I was in school and you came for those stupid parent-teacher conferences that year, I could see it. She likes you. Maybe too much. And you’re all about no ties. She deserves better than that.”
Zeke crossed his arms over his chest and faced his son then. He’d be damned if he was going to let his son stand and chastise him over something he didn’t know or couldn’t understand.
“That’s not your call, Shane,” he pointed out firmly. “What’s between me and Rogue stays there. Understand? I don’t need your advice.”
Shane looked away for a moment, and Zeke was struck by the maturity his son had achieved in the past year at college. Hell, he’d missed it. Shane’s face had lost that youthful fullness. It was becoming more honed, closer to Zeke in looks rather than his mother’s father.
Hell, it was a defining moment, Zeke thought, realizing his kid looked like him. And that his kid was berating him over a woman. There was something about that that just clashed in his head.
“I’m not trying to give you advice.” Shane turned back to him, eyeing him fiercely now with eyes almost the same color as his own. “I’m telling you, Dad. You break her heart, and you won’t be the man I’ve always respected.”
It was all Zeke could do to keep his jaw in place. Hell. When had reality shifted?
In his kitchen with his dick down Rogue’s throat, another part of him reminded him.
“Son, you’re getting big enough to hit,” Zeke warned him, though he knew hitting the boy wasn’t in question.
Shane snorted at that. “Yeah, sure, Pop. And you’re old enough to know better than to mess with a girl like Rogue without being serious about it. You’re older than she is. And you know things she doesn’t.”
“Things like what?” Zeke gritted out in a snarl. Maybe he should rethink the hitting part.
Shane flushed, then straightened his shoulders and glared back at him. “I’m your son,” he snapped. “Don’t make me spell crap out. It was bad enough walking in on you like that. I’m a man, not a kid, and I know I’m not always normal in some things. I figure I got it from someone and I’m figuring after hearing tales about Grandpa, that I get it from your side. Okay? So be careful. I like Rogue. She’s cool, and she doesn’t treat me like a stupid kid. You break her heart and I’m gonna be pissed. That’s just all.”
With that, Shane turned on his booted heel and slammed back into the house, rattling the door on its hinges as Zeke stared at it in shock.
Fuck, he needed a beer. He needed a beer, a long nap, and then he needed to get his head screwed on straight where Rogue was concerned. She was pissed. Shane was pissed. And Zeke couldn’t blame either damned one of them. The question now was damage control.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he grimaced. When he’d been married and pissed his wife off, all he had to do was leave her alone for a while and she forgave him. When Chaya was pissed at Natches, he said the best thing to do was leave her the hell alone. He’d seen various Mackay men moping at the diner when their wives were in a snit. Rogue couldn’t be much different, could she?
Hell, it was humiliating to realize how little he knew about this female’s quirks. He was thirty-seven years old, he’d been married, and he hadn’t exactly been celibate over the years since his wife had died.
But, he reminded himself, neither had he actually had relationships. Not that he had one now. Did he? He shook his head. Hell no, he didn’t have one now. Rogue wasn’t a relationship. But she was definitely going to be a lover. He’d give her a few days, let her get over her mad, then he’d find her.
He nodded
to himself. That was all he had to do. Because the next time he found her, he was fucking her. It was that simple. He’d come down her throat today with a force he hadn’t known in his entire life. Watching her, seeing her innocence, realizing how she was struggling with the act and trying to hide the fact that she had no idea what she was doing. And still, she’d gone down on him with a sensuality and a hunger that amazed him.
And when he’d filled her mouth, she’d come with him. Not the way she was going to come once he got his lips between her thighs or his cock buried deep inside that hot little pussy he knew would drive him insane. But she had come from the sheer sensuality and excitement, with him. He wasn’t about to fight this much longer.
He’d managed to hide the darker core of his sexuality for most of his life; it was second nature now. He’d hide it with Rogue as well. He’d have to, because he knew he had to have her. There was no other option.
He would hide it from Shane, he’d hide it from the county. He knew how to hide his lovers and he knew how to hide his interest.
If something warned him it wasn’t going to be that easy with Rogue, then he pushed it aside. Rogue was hotter, more of a temptation, more of a forbidden fruit because of her age, he told himself. It wasn’t emotion. Zeke had learned long ago not to let himself get emotionally involved. He wasn’t involved now.
Was he?
He wasn’t, he decided. Cranston’s idea had merit, too. He could have Rogue, he could let the killer think his focus was divided while Cranston and the Mackays asked their questions. Hell, they were going to do it anyway.
And he wouldn’t be using her, he assured his guilty conscience. He was dying for her. His attention was divided, it was too focused on his hunger, and he’d end up missing things. This way, he’d at least have a clear head for the investigation.
And he was making excuses. The plain and simple fact was he simply couldn’t stay away from her any longer.
Rogue showed up at work the next day even though she didn’t want to. She felt raw inside, rejected, used. She felt as though she had been stripped to the bone and had no idea how to heal the wounds; she only knew how to hide them.
