Billionaire With a Twist 2 (9 page)

Hunter squeezed my hand. “That
was very brave.”

I shrugged again, my eyes misting.
“Didn’t feel very brave. Just like I needed to breathe.”

“I’m sorry it’s been
so hard for you.”

“I’m probably
exaggerating,” I said automatically. “I mean, it’s
not so bad. Other people have it worse. Paige has always been great,
she never got spoiled like some people who get that kind of
treatment. And my parents do love me, I know they do. It’s
just…Paige is the daughter my mom always wanted, and I was the
extra. And then I didn’t even do her the courtesy of being a
back-up in case they lost the first one, I had to be my own person.
All full of unsightly ambition and bad pop culture references and
profanity and shit.”

He laughed softly and nudged his horse
closer. He let go of my hand, but only to wrap his arm around my
shoulder.

He didn’t say a word, and neither
did I, and we didn’t have to. I had never felt such unspoken
closeness, such intimacy before. In that moment, it didn’t
matter that because of my work and my principles, we couldn’t
really be together. In that moment, we were more together than I had
ever been with another human being.

It was probably the most perfect moment
of my life, which meant Hunter should have, by all established
patterns, ruined it. But he didn’t.

My horse did instead.

Or rather the rabbit that darted out
from between the bushes and spooked my horse did.

“Shit!” I shrieked as my
mount unexpectedly bolted. “Ah fuck fuck shit!”

We’d been having a capital M
Moment, dammit!

But as is probably already clear, my
horse had absolutely no respect for emotional turnaround points, and
kept running like a demon. I gave up trying to make it understand
that the rabbit was not going to kill it, in favor of holding on for
my life and making sure the mare didn’t run into a tree.

“Ally!”

It was Hunter, catching up to us as we
came along the river, where my terrified, whinnying horse reared away
from the water and began to run parallel to it. I wouldn’t be
surprised if she hadn’t completely forgotten the rabbit by now;
she was so scared that it didn’t matter what had caused it,
every new sight was a thing to be frightened of.

Hunter extended his hand, gripping his
reins tightly with the other. “Jump to me!”

I took a few seconds out of my busy
schedule of holding on for dear life to gape at him in disbelief. I
shouted back, “Are you shitting me?”

“Trust me, Ally!”

And somehow, looking into those golden
brown eyes, even across that yawning gap, even above those thundering
hooves—

I did.

“Okay!” I scrambled onto my
feet in an awkward crouch and braced myself, getting ready to jump.

And I think that, in a perfect world, I
really might have actually made the leap right into Hunter’s
arms.

But then my horse bucked.

I sailed through the air, everything
seeming to slow down as though we were passing through water, a
random thought seeming to take forever to reach completion:
The
stablehand had said this was the jewel of the crown, was that a
secret horse whisperer phrase for oh God, oh God, bunnies, the
scourge of the world?

And then, splash!

I sank beneath the water like a stone,
automatically sucking in a breath that turned out to be completely
water, before bobbing up again midcurrent, coughing muddy liquid and
gasping at the cold. I was completely drenched. I didn’t seem
to be hurt, but all my limbs felt like they’d been turned into
rubber. I spat something out that I had accidentally swallowed—a
tadpole.

At that point it was laugh or cry, so I
laughed until the tears ran down my face.

“Ally!” Hunter’s
panicked voice came from up and to the left. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, unable to stop laughing long
enough to choke out more than: “Fine! Only bruised my dignity!”

Actually, I’d probably done more
than that to it, but some people—I was thinking most
prominently of my mother here—would claim that I murdered my
dignity years ago, so I wasn’t too fussed about inflicting any
post-mortem injuries.

Hunter slid from his horse’s back
in one fluid motion, quickly tying the reins to the trees before
sidling up to my own mount—now placidly chomping watercress in
the shallows like the traitor she was— I was going to have
words with Homer about his recommendation—and tied her up
nearby as well.

The whole process didn’t take
very long, but I savored every second of it. You see, a branch must
have torn his shirt as he went barreling after me like a knight in
shining armor, because a considerable swath of it was torn away. And
as he leapt around so urgently, lots of very interesting…scenery…was
on view.

Scenery that gave me certain…ideas.

While he still wasn’t looking, I
pulled my soaked blouse and bra over my head, tossing them onto a
nearby tree trunk. My jeans and panties were the next to go, my cold
fingers trembling on the metal button, the waterlogged denim
protesting as I tried to peel it away before giving up. I let the
current carry away my socks.

The cool water felt deliciously naughty
on my bare skin, lapping against my breasts and swirling around my
thighs. I dove beneath it again, the cold shocking and then fading
away, and then surfaced, laughing out loud in delight.

Hunter turned and saw me. For a second,
his jaw dropped so low a gator could’ve crawled inside.

Then that shocked look melted slowly
into a wicked grin, wide and languorous and feral, like a jungle cat.
He sauntered down to the riverside, a sway in his hips as he pulled
his shirt up over his head, abs and pecs and biceps rippling in a
mouth-watering display.

I would have given him a wolf whistle,
but my mouth had just gone terribly dry.

His pants followed, sliding off those
well-formed hips and down his muscular legs, pulling his socks and
shoes with them.

I licked my lips.

He ran his fingers around the hem of
his black boxers, and I glared at him for being a tease.

He just grinned back, insouciant and
devil-may-care, before stripping away that last garment and
sauntering into the water with me.

The look on his face when he felt the
cold was priceless, and I burst into giggles.

He frowned with all the offended
dignity of a lion. “Come on! It’s cold!”

“It’s hilarious,” I
informed him between chortles.

He raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s
asking for a punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” I could feel my
nipples hardening, and not just from the water’s temperature.
“And who’s going to punish me?”

He growled and dove toward me, but when
I feinted away he gave pursuit, and soon we were gamboling in the
dancing shadows of an overhanging willow. He grabbed for me but our
slick skin was slippery and I twisted in his grip, rubbing myself
against him before I slipped away. Our arms and legs intertwined,
slid apart, the heat of our bodies like a heady elixir, intoxicating,
leaving us both hungry for more.

Finally he ran me aground in the
shallows and pinned me against the red clay bank, his thick cock hard
against my stomach as I wrapped my legs around him. I wanted to wrap
my arms around those powerful shoulders as well, but he took my
wrists in his left hand, trapping them above my head, holding me fast
underneath his weight, helpless beneath him, open to him, spread and
wet and ready to be taken hard and fast. I was keening against the
slick skin of his shoulder, arching my back as I ground my pussy
against his leg, needing him to slide lower, to thrust his long thick
cock into me.

“Hunter,” I panted,
desperate.

But he only teased, his firm thigh
pressing between my legs with sweet insistency, the pressure just
right but not enough, it would never be enough until he was inside
me, claiming me, taking me…

“Hunter…” And now it
was a moan.

I rocked desperately against him, and
he slid just a little lower, not low enough, until I thought I would
explode, that wicked grin on his face as his lips found my neck, as
his teeth sank possessively into my shoulder—

“Hunter!”

He swept me up in his arms then,
carried me up to the bank and laid me down on a soft bed of grass. I
whimpered in protest at the momentary separation of my skin from his,
and then in delight as his body covered mine once more.

His hot, avid mouth found mine, licking
at my lips until I opened them and let him in. His hands stroked,
cupped, and squeezed my breasts until I was writhing beneath him once
more. One hand began to trace spirals around the dip just above my
hip as his teeth and tongue found my nipples, licking and laving and
laying down a path, lower and lower, down between my thighs…

There were reasons we shouldn’t
be doing this. Reasons, at least, we should be taking this slow. I
knew there were reasons.

I just couldn’t for the life of
me recall what they were.

“Oh, oh, yes, yes, please…”
I whispered.

By the time his mouth made its way
below my stomach, I was done with teasing and so was Hunter. I arched
upward and he complied with my demand, burying his face in me with a
moan of delight. His talented tongue—oh, how could I ever have
fooled myself into thinking I could forget that tongue—delved
deep inside me, stroking all my secret places as his nose nudged
against me, as I clenched around him, as his fingers joined his
tongue, one, and then two, crooking, searching for that spot—

He touched it, and I groaned, seeing
stars.

I collapsed against the riverbank,
expecting him to raise himself back up and finally fuck me senseless.

What he did instead was stand.

I looked up, confused. We weren’t
done yet; he was still hard, as ready as I was.

He offered me his hand, and a saucy
grin. “Come on. I know a much better place to finish this up.”

So it turns out that the amount of time
it takes you to have the world’s best orgasm is also the amount
of time it takes for your average Southern stream current to wash
away the clothes you abandoned on top of a tree trunk.

Fortunately, Hunter was a true
gentleman, and let me have his boxers and ripped shirt, while he only
kept his jeans. Our state of half-dress felt sexy and mischievous,
and we nudged each other and shot sly secretive glances as we darted
between the shadows on our way back, almost collapsing against each
other with giggles each time a twig broke beneath our feet or we made
a mad dash across open ground unseen—and that was half the fun,
that half-collapse, that collision of barely hidden bodies humming
and revving and eager to go.

Each time we brushed against each other
the temptation reared its head anew, threatened to detain us in
multiple rendezvouses behind trees, our lips eager for each other and
for our skin. Only the threat of poison ivy in places that really
don’t bear mentioning kept us going.

When the door of my cabin slammed
behind us and we were finally home free, Hunter lunged for me,
growling like a hungry jaguar. I giggled and danced out of his grasp,
adding a little sashay to my hips as I darted to the other side of
the bed.

Hunter growled his disapproval.

“Nuh-uh, mister,” I said,
shaking my finger at him. “We’re both covered in mud and
grass and God knows what else. I’m not getting that all over
the nice clean sheets.”

He stalked closer, a panther on the
prowl. “I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”

My legs turned to jelly underneath me,
and I had to clench my thighs tight to keep from coming then and
there.

“Yeah, but think of the maids,”
I said with my best wide-eyed innocent look. “I’m going
to shower.”

Hunter pouted.

I paused, halfway through pulling off
my borrowed shirt on the way to the bathroom.

“Care to join me?”

If the Guinness Book of World Records
had an entry for fastest disappearance of pout, Hunter would have won
in a heartbeat.

#

Despite our earlier impatience, once we
got under the hot water spray we took our time, the shower becoming a
sensual exploration of each other as our hands and washcloths
wandered over the curves and planes of the other’s body.

We took turns washing each other’s
hair, and I reveled equally in the sensation of Hunter’s strong
hands massaging my scalp and in the feel of his soft locks running
through my fingers as he bent forward for my ministrations.

When we were scrubbed and fresh and
free of any excuse for further procrastination, Hunter turned me
gently around and pulled me back toward his body until I was flush
against him, trembling with desire. He leaned down to nibble my ear
and I moaned, arching backward into him, grinding my ass against his
cock.

He chuckled, dark and dirty, and the
puff of air against my wet skin made my lips quiver, my legs shake.

His hand began trailing up my side, up
and down and up and down and never quite reaching my breasts until I
thought I might go crazy. I bit my lip and sighed, pressed myself
back against his hardness until finally, oh God yes finally, his hand
came up to cup my breast, his fingers taking my nipple between them,
twisting it almost leisurely, the sensation slowly building,
intoxicating, breath-taking—

I couldn’t take another second.

I turned in his arms before he could
stop me and practically leapt onto him, my breasts crushed against
his chest, my hands greedy for the touch of his wet skin and slick
muscles. He barely steadied himself against the wall of the shower
with one hand before he could fall, his strong arms trembling with
desire as his other hand gripped my ass tight, pinning me to him. I
met his eyes, dark and avid as I was sure my own were, and held his
gaze as I slid down onto him.