Abduction (59 page)

The black lashes fluttered open and the angel-child became a man.

All the times they'd kissed, he'd touched her, they'd made each other pant and sigh, she'd hardly touched him. Looking at him now she reached out, almost without thinking, and ran the tip of one finger over the glowing outline of his shoulder, the smooth skin of his muscled upper arm, the curve of his elbow, his forearm. A need she didn't question rose up in her, and, turning her eyes up to his, she dropped her hand onto the comforter and drew it away from his body so she could look at him. Looking at his smooth, pale skin, his chest, his nipples, the faint line of dark hair down the center of his torso, his belly button, she wondered what sounds he might have made, if she'd kissed his body.

"I'm going to miss you," she whispered by way of asking permission.

When she brought her hand to his cheek his stomach flexed, but he didn't push her hand away. She smiled, and when he smiled tentatively back she traced the dimple above the corner of his mouth with the tip of her finger.

"Dev."

All the sleepiness was gone from his face. He was awake. Vivid. Apprehensive.

"All this time," she whispered, the soft warmth of the yellow morning impervious to mercury fear, "I feel like I've never really touched you."

With her thumb she traced over his lips, his chin, his Adam's apple. The tips of her first two fingers found and followed his collarbones up from the bed toward the apex of his left shoulder. Then her palm hover-touched over his pecs, her tummy tightening as she felt the peaks of his nipples. The swell of his belly as he breathed seemed like the tenderest thing she'd ever felt—that she could touch, feel how alive and how fragile he was. When she looked, his eyes were fixed on her face.

"There was a night, you know," she sighed, lost in the million gleaming facets of his eyes, "that I thought, before our time here was up, I was going to really learn you."

She blushed then, but only for a second, before the perfect warmth and light of the morning lulled her embarrassment away. Aware, unashamed of how young, how inexperienced she was, she smiled, and holding his gaze, gently curved her fingers over the warm fullness of him under the snug gray cotton shorts.

"Dev."

A warning. Or a plea.

"I want just one time with you, Vaughn, where it's just us. You and me."

Her hand was still on his groin.

"But I don't want to hurt you. I'll stop, if you want me to."

Rapid shallow panting breaths. Eyes locked on her. Silent.

Even though she hadn't moved her hand against him, she could feel him swelling. Her breath quickened. She moved her hand, just the tiniest bit, just memorizing the shape, the feel of him. The way the warm girth of him filled the curve of her palm and fingers.

"All the times I imagined this part of a man," she whispered, her caress over the smooth, thin cotton slow and soft, "I really only thought about how hard it could be. How it could… penetrate."

She smiled at him shyly, her cheeks hot.

"But touching you like this, you're so warm. Sort of delicate. It feels like…caring for you…the way I can feel you getting bigger. Moving a little."

He was panting faintly, with arousal, she thought. His eyes were locked on her face and a little red like he might be about to cry. She slid her hand down and cupped the soft swell of his balls in her palm. Her sex was pulsing deliciously.

"And I never guessed. It's so nice, touching you," she said quietly, smiling over at him, "it's as nice as being touched."

He smiled sweetly, but a tear slid from the corner of his eye. She pulled her hand back.

"I'm sorry, Vaughn. I just…"

She would not cry.

His mouth still curved faintly in a melancholy smile, he subtly shook his head, touched her cheek, and took just her bottom lip in a tender kiss.

"I don't want you to stop, Dev," he whispered.

Then he kissed her again, a sweet press of her upper lip between his lips before he teased her with a brief touch of his tongue. Joy and want surged up, roiling together as she parted her lips for him, touched his tongue with hers. Deeper and deeper they took their kiss until they emerged breathless, trembling.

He touched nothing but her hair, her lips, her chin, but her sex throbbed as she brought her hand back to his perfectly stiff prick. She smiled, and he smiled back. The feel of his hard thickness under her hand as she stroked him over his shorts had her eager for everything; she wanted to caress and kiss every crease and curve of him. For a second she fretted she'd gone too far when he went stiff and still as she hinted the elastic of his shorts an inch or two down his hips, until he gave her permission with a nervous smile and lifted his ass off the bed so she could slide the article off.

It amazed her, touched her, that he could be lying there, naked, so hard, and look so vulnerable. She pressed her body against him, feeling the stiff length of his cock straining against her belly as she kissed his mouth and caressed his back.

"I was surprised," she sighed, looking up at him, bringing her hand around, touching just the tips of her fingers to the petal-soft skin of his hard, hot shaft, making him draw a deep breath, "at how delicate your skin is, here. It's so nice to touch."

Feather-light she ran her fingertips up and down the silky length of his shaft.

"And this," she sighed, enveloping the smooth, plump head in her hand. "And the way it jumps and twitches in my hand," she practically groaned, she was getting so 539

aroused as she gently gripped the shaft and felt it lurch. "And," she added, slowly stroking him, "I love how you smell. The way you taste. The feel of you against my lips.

Under my tongue. In my mouth."

She wanted to stay close to him, their eyes locked, their breaths breezing against each other's lips, but she couldn't resist slipping down, bringing his flushed, full cock to her mouth, brushing the rosy head against her lips, feeling how smooth and warm it was, how soft it felt when she nuzzled it for a moment against her cheek before she caressed the shaft with her lips, then touched the head with her tongue, tasting his salty tang, hearing his gasp. Then, her sex pounding with wonderful, rhythmic heat, she drew him between her lips and listened to his sigh.

As she slowly swirled her tongue around and around, and worked her mouth up and down, with her hands she caressed his warm belly, feeling the firm rise of his hip bones, the tender dip between, finding and circling his navel with a finger, dipping down for a second to tease, then up to finger the fine trail of hair that ended in the thatch under her mouth. She took him in deep, loving the feeling of him filling her mouth, the taste of him all along her tongue from the tip to the opening of her throat, breathing in the scent of him.

But she was dying to go back to him, to read his face, to feel him hold her, to take him in. He was panting hard as she rose up and slipped off her panties and t-shirt.

She gazed down at him, reading his apprehension. His arousal. And then she felt a jarring awareness that she was sitting there, naked, all but begging Vaughn to… A hot blush fanned over her cheeks and chest. When he noticed her embarrassment 540

Vaughn's fear seemed to fade. He sat up and put his arms around her, stroking and kissing her hair.

"I so want this, Vaughn. But only if you do, too."

He just held her, silent.

"Do you want this, Vaughn?" she whispered, sad, sure she knew what he was going to say.

"Yes."

Yes. Nothing else mattered. Yes, they'd be together. This one time, just them.

He'd kiss her and hold her, she'd feel his body against hers, inside her. She'd get to watch the pleasure move over his face, she'd hear it in his sighs and moans. Yes.

Eager to close out any space between them, to put any chance of him changing his mind in the past where it couldn't keep them apart, she slipped atop his thighs and pressed her chest to his. His doubt seemed all gone. With his placid smile he watched her face, stroked her hair, kissed her mouth. Soft. Deep. Teasing her tongue with his.

Filling her mouth with his sighs.

Forgetting to doubt herself, she locked eyes with him, raised herself a little, reached down between them, curved her fingers gently around the base of his cock, then pressed the head to her sex. She watched bewilderment and anticipation flicker over his features as she made their bodies align, and slowly sank down, taking him in.

She let out a little, unselfconscious groan; it felt so, so good to have him inside her.

He was inside her. She was in his arms. They were together. It was too good. It was a happiness that hurt.

But then she was nervous, almost startled to find herself astride him. On top.

Now she felt like a real idiot. She couldn't just start riding him the way she'd seen women do in movies. She'd feel ridiculous. She waited, dying for him to lay her down, to feel his weight on her, feel him moving inside of her.

"Dev?"

Vaughn's anxious look was back. She smiled. He smiled. Devan laughed softly, looking at Vaughn sheepishly. He looked confused.

"I don't," she started, and laughed again. "After everything, I've never…I don't know what to do. How to…make it good for you, I mean…"

"Dev."

Vaughn gave her his serene smile. Had anything in the world ever reassured her the way that smile always did?

"Don't think about me. Do whatever feels nice to you, and it'll feel nice to me. And nothing could be better, Dev, than feeling you, watching you move for your pleasure."

He brushed her hair back tickling over her shoulder, coaxed her close, kissed lightly over her ear, down her neck, into the hollow behind her collarbone, releasing a cascade of rousing tingles. When she moved, just a tiny movement, such a gripping pleasure twinged her sex that she gasped out loud. It was a strange, heart-breaking sort of pleasure, feeling so close to him, their bodies connected, sharing touch and warmth.

And her want was so much that her body seemed to want to let go, right then. So she kept her movements slow and small. And, because they had these few moments together where they were lovers, not captives, she whispered her thoughts to him.

"I love this, Vaughn. Feeling you inside of me. Your arms around me. The way you're watching me."

He gave her a little smile that wavered, maybe with arousal, maybe with sadness.

As she moved over him, she'd touch him—his face, his chest, his belly. He'd only trail his fingers into her hair, kiss her sweetly, hold her to him, until she took his hand, kissed his palm, and put it to her breast.

"Touch me," she sighed as she slowly rose and dipped and tilted her hips, quivering with the pleasure of it but keeping her climax back.

Now that she'd asked it of him he caressed her, tentatively, gently, watching her face, taking in her smiles and sighs and little blushes when the pleasure shook a groan from her.

"Do you like it, too?" she asked, tentatively teasing a nipple.

"Yes," he groaned as she felt the dark little nub harden under her thumb.

She tried to make it last. Their one time. But soon it didn't matter how small, each little movement promised her climax was close. He seemed to sense it, getting more worked up, holding her closer in his trembling embrace as she rose and dipped and slowly swirled her body around him. When she came her body was shaking from holding back so long, and because she seemed to be letting go of so much in that release, and her moans were laced with sobs and Vaughn nuzzled into her hair and sighed "Dev, Dev, Dev" as she shuddered in his arms.

He pulled her close and held her tight for long moments after. When she pulled back a little to look at him, he looked happy, and she smiled. Then, a few seconds later, she laughed a little, embarrassed again.

"Do you want to…change positions? Or should I…speed up? Or anything?"

He smiled, and laughed softly for a second. Then, in a breathy whisper,

"If it's not too much to ask, just keep doing what you've been doing. I've been hanging on by a thread."

Fresh joy flushed over everything else at the thought she'd been giving him anything like the pleasure she'd been feeling. She started to move again, overwhelmed, now, by the feeling of him so hard and full in her pleasure-worn, pleasure-seeking body.

She felt unbearably taut and swollen, all her nerves raw and hyper-stimulated and yet aching to feel him.

With her hands and her body she felt him quivering, felt the tension in his hands, though he was holding her gently. Carefully. Even now. His eyes were set on hers, seeking, asking, confessing. So open. Vulnerable. And now there was a low growling groan in every exhale as his trembling turned to sporadic shuddering spasms, his breath catching, his belly flexing and she was waiting, moving, wanting to spin this moment into infinity but dying to watch him, hear him, feel him let go with her. Then he panted "oh, Dev," and groaned and cinching her waist in his arm held her tight to him, his face rapt with pleasure that looked like pain. And, deep inside of her, she felt him succumb to the pleasure she'd given him.

He held her gaze, let her watch through that long, vulnerable moment, and after, as he came back to himself. Still trembling he kissed her, not with the urgency she'd felt 544

before, but a long, deep kiss of capitulation and communion. Everything bare. Nothing held back. Then he buried his face in her hair and pulled her tight against him, and they held each other like that for a long time.

Then they packed up and hiked out, barely talking as they plodded over the soggy forest floor to the rendezvous point. Devan's vague melancholy dread solidified into a nauseating lump in her belly when, through the trees, she saw the jarringly unnatural white of a truck, and knew that her time with Vaughn in his hideaway in the woods was over. Her body slowed, like an instinctive resistance to walking off a cliff, but Vaughn turned and looked at her, and she forced herself to keep moving. Toward the end of them.