Falling for the Enemy (9 page)

The hint of a smile still lingered around his mouth. “What can you give me, sweet Virginia?”

Comfort
, she thought.
I can give you comfort
. But strong, silent Shaun Buchanan wasn’t the kind of man to accept sympathy if he saw it coming, so she leaned into him and placed a kiss on his lips. Then she slid her palms over his chest, down the dips and ridges of his torso, and into the waistband of his jeans.

“This.”

Chapter Ten

“Let me.”

Those two little words reached his ears at the same time her fingers reached the first button on the fly of his jeans. Then she kissed him—long, deep, and persuasive as hell. He brought his hand up to hold her head and invaded her sweet mouth. She sealed her lips around the base of his tongue and slowly sucked her way to the tip, wringing a shudder from him.

He broke away and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Christ, Virginia.”

“Sit back. Relax. Let me make you feel good.”

He groaned, then closed his eyes, covered her hand with his, and moved it down the front of his jeans, loving the way she handled him. “You’ve made me feel good many times. A few of those occurred before we ever met.”

Her hand stilled for a beat, before those slim fingers undid another button. “Did you think of me…touch yourself”—her voice brushed the skin along his throat like velvet—“and pretend it was me touching you?” She grasped him through the denim and squeezed his whole package harder than was strictly polite, but he loved the unapologetically straightforward demand. He couldn’t feel anything except what she was doing to him.

Eyes closed, chin to chest, he breathed in her scent. “Fuck yes.”

She popped the rest of the buttons in a series of quick, urgent tugs, and, at last, curled her fingers around his shaft. A starburst of lights twinkled behind his closed eyelids.

“How did you touch yourself? Gently?” Her diabolical fingertip took a slow, feather-light tour of the vein running along the underside of his cock.

He was literally incapable of answering, but it hardly mattered, because she didn’t wait for a response.

“Or did you like it rough?” She tightened her grip on his shaft and worked him harder.

“Fast,” he choked out in what was almost a laugh. “Since I didn’t have company, I wasn’t worried about lasting.”

The confession pulled a slow, sexy grin out of her. She pressed her lips to his throat, the underside of his jaw, while she continued to stroke him. True, he wasn’t in the same hard-up condition he’d been in a few weeks ago, but if she kept this up, the result wasn’t going to be a hell of a lot different.

“Virginia—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I’m doing all the work this time. You’re going to sit back and endure it.”

Not likely. He’d never been a sit-back kind of guy, but he stilled anyway. She tugged him free of his jeans and briefs. He looked down and enjoyed an unobstructed view of her slim, pale hand curled around the thickest part of him. His head jutted from the top of her fist.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, you’re not going to be sure where your fantasies end and reality begins.” So saying, she lowered herself to her knees in front of him and let her breath waft across the tip of his cock.

He groaned and gripped the base of his erection, just under her hand.

“You’re going to drive me insane…oh, Jesus.”

She cupped his balls at the same time she stroked him, stopping just shy of the flare of his head. “So, you’re touching yourself, and thinking of me, and…”

His head dropped back of its own accord, and his breath quickened. “I’d dream of you kneeling between my legs, opening your mouth, and letting me fuck you like that until I was the only thing you’d taste for the rest of your life.”

While they both watched, liquid beaded at the head of his cock and trembled there. He shivered when she used the pad of her thumb to swipe it, pressing down hard enough to explore the small opening. Then she brought her thumb to her mouth and licked it clean.

Eyes locked on him, she gripped his thighs, spreading them slightly, and brought her mouth so close her breath ruffled the hair around the base of his cock. “Could I trouble you to do the honors?”

Hell yes. He gripped his shaft and guided it to her lips. She opened her mouth, fully prepared to take him in, but he delayed their gratification by tracing his tip along her upper lip. “You have the softest lips, Virginia. Even before I ever kissed you, I knew they’d feel amazing.” He dragged his tip along her lower lip and couldn’t hold back a groan.

She chased him with her tongue, wetting her lips in the process. “Having them sealed around you is going to feel even better.”

He placed his hand on the top of her head, spearing his fingers through her hair. “Don’t rush me. This is my dream, remember?”

“I remember everything. Tell me what comes next.”

Why he wanted to torture himself he couldn’t say, but he wanted to savor this. “Kiss it…just the tip. With those plush lips of yours. No tongue, yet.”

She wet her lips again, puckered them, and rubbed them over the tip he held out for her. Somehow he managed to keep his eyes open, even though they wanted to roll back in his head. Then she parted her lips to take him deeper.

“Not yet,” he ground out, still hoping against hope to make this last more than three seconds.

“I can’t wait. I want to cradle the weight of you in my mouth. I want to hear you beg as I take you in.” She tightened her hold on his thighs and aimed a plaintive look at him.

“Sweet Virginia, you’ve got me so worked up I can’t trust myself. If you let me in your mouth, I’m going to own it. I’ve been fantasizing about this too long to sit by like a gentleman while you have your fun.”

“Do you think you’re scaring me off?” She parted her lips as if in a dare, and ran her tongue along the same vein her fingertip had traced earlier.

Control. Snapped. He tightened his fingers in her hair, pulled her head back a fraction of an inch, and pushed his cock into her mouth. She sealed her lips tight around him, either to slow his entry, or to fully appreciate the size and shape of him.

He almost didn’t care, but managed to rein in his movement anyway. She countered with deep, enthusiastic suction.

“Christ, you feel so good,” he gasped, as the lightshow behind his eyelids flickered again. Realizing he’d relinquished his view of her, he forced his eyes open and stared at his lap.

Virginia rose onto her knees and changed the angle to take more.
Not yet
. He tightened his fingers in her hair, held her head still, and withdrew a few millimeters. She made an impatient sound and her hands tightened on his thighs. “A minute,” he managed. “Give me a minute. Once I get going, I won’t be able to savor this—the hug of your lips, or the heat of your mouth—because I’m going to go hard, and I’m going to go deep. So do us both a favor and give me a goddamn minute.”

As it turned out, he didn’t have a minute in him. His hips tightened and flexed of their own accord. With one hand twisted in her hair, and the other gripping the seat of the sofa, he thrust. It wasn’t easy. Their position worked against him, but he couldn’t sit still. She dug her fingernails into his legs, held on, and hummed her approval as he thrust deeper—all the way to the soft, snug cavern at the back of her throat. She lowered her head to take just a little more, and the edges of his vision went gray. He eased back and then surged upward again, reflexively, forcefully, in rapid succession. Some detached part of his brain warned him to take care, because he didn’t want to make her jaw ache from the strain of holding him, but she wouldn’t tolerate any restraint. She kept him sealed tight while her eager tongue explored every inch it could reach.

Oxygen became a critical thing. His heart hammered in his chest. His breaths quickened as his thrusts became faster and shallower. Somebody was talking. Rambling, incoherent nonsense reached his ears over the drum of his own pulse. Curses…prayers…he couldn’t be sure. And then he lost the thread of it completely because she sucked hard on his cock and the tension gathering at the base of his spine coursed downward toward his balls.

Before he could draw another much-needed lungful of air and brace himself for what came next, she speared two fingers behind his sac and found the exact spot where the pressure concentrated. Ribbons of heat scorched a path straight up his shaft. Light exploded behind his eyes. A hand dislodged his from its death grip on the sofa, and deceptively delicate fingers threaded through his, holding fast as the orgasm tore through him.

Who knew he’d survive four years at Annapolis, six years as a SEAL, dozens of dangerous missions all over the globe, only to die in Bluelick with a smile on his face, his extremely grateful dick limp in his lap, and a gorgeous redhead completely at fault?

The feathery tickle of eyelashes against his chest suggested maybe his nervous system was still plugged into his brain. He pried his eyes open and watched as the redhead in question pressed a kiss to his pec, then his collarbone, and then his temple. He contemplated saying something…
Thank you? Give me five minutes and I’ll return the favor?
But suddenly she stopped, buried her nose in his hair and sniffed.

“Why does your hair smell like my soap?”

He tucked himself back into his jeans and buttoned up. “I don’t want to shock you.”

She drew back and gave him what he could only classify as a horrified look. “Oh, no. You didn’t…”

“Your shampoo is pink and smells like an herb garden. I took the soap—”

“Body soap.”

He shrugged to show her what he thought of the distinction. “I scrubbed it over my head, which happens to be attached to my body. Then I rinsed.”

Her fingers sifted through his hair, as if assessing the damage. “Bar soap isn’t chemically formulated for hair. It’s going to leave the strands weighed down and lifeless.”

“It’s hair. It’s already lifeless.” He tucked her back against his side.

“Neanderthal,” she grumbled, but settled into a comfortable position.

The sense of contentment subsided a little when she trailed her index finger across his chest, tracing the letters of his tattoo. Not that her touch didn’t feel like heaven—it did—but questions wouldn’t be far behind and he was talked out on the subject of his military service. A part of him couldn’t believe he’d opened up like he had, simply because she’d asked him. The odd thing was he did feel better. Something about the unflinching way she handled the ugly mess he’d dumped on her—something beyond the amazingly restorative power of a great blowjob—made him feel almost…normal. He caught her hand and linked their fingers.

“The only easy day was yesterday?”

“It’s an unofficial SEAL motto. I got dragged out for standard commemorative ink after my first mission.” Ironically, the words had never really felt true until after his last.

“A bunch of us did the same thing after graduating from cosmetology school.”

“Seriously?” He’d inspected every inch of her mouthwatering body and he never noticed a tattoo.

She gave his chest a playful swat. “Hell, no. The idea of lying still while someone stabs me repeatedly with a needle to shove ink into my dermis sounds like a cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Depends on your definition of unusual, I suppose.”

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. He could have sat there for days, in comfortable silence, listening to the rain patter on the roof, but for some screwed up reason he asked, “Why run for mayor?”

She let her head roll back so it rested against the couch. Their bodies didn’t lose contact, but he no longer had her breasts resting against his chest or her thigh next to his. And that was a damn shame. “Do you really want to talk about this?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if didn’t want to know. Don’t trust me with the truth?”

“No. I trust you. I’m just not sure this is a good topic for us.”

“Why?”

She looked uncomfortable with the question, even though they both knew the answer. “Because your dad is my opponent.”

“Despite my last name, I don’t really have a horse in this race.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because the cabin I’m staying in is outside the city limits. I’m not a Bluelick resident and, therefore, not eligible to vote.”

“Huh. Funny how that worked out.”

“Totally unplanned”—not that he was complaining—“but as a consequence, I’m asking out of personal interest only. Why run for mayor?”

She exhaled a long breath and turned her head to face him. “I don’t know if you remember Grandma Boca?”

He searched his memory for a face, but came up blank. “No.”

“No reason you would, but she played a big role in my life. No pun intended,” she added under her breath.

“Sorry?”

“Bad joke. Grandma was, well, larger than life. My mama used to say she had a problem with her glands, but as I got older, I realized she had an eating disorder. She was addicted to food, which is a tough addiction to break because you actually do have to eat. Her size made normal activities like walking and riding in a car an ordeal. She couldn’t just drive down to Boone’s Market to shop, or scoot over to Dalton’s Drugs to pick up a prescription, or even attend church. As she got wider, her world got very narrow—about as narrow as the four walls of my parents’ home—and I became her link to the rest of Bluelick. I loved my grandma and I didn’t want her to feel like she was missing out, so I made a point to talk to people, and listen, and learn everything I could about what was going on so I could share the news with her when I got home.”

Shaun imagined a teenaged Virginia talking with her grandmother, bonding over all the shit he tried to avoid…details about who was getting married, having babies, achieving something, or suffering a setback. “I’m sure she appreciated spending time with you, and the effort you took to make her feel included in everyday life.”

“She did, but she also pushed me to do more than just relay the information. She asked for my thoughts, my opinions, and my solutions. I can still hear her saying, ‘Peanut, if you were in this person’s shoes, what would you do?’”

“Peanut, huh?”

She narrowed her eyes and aimed her finger at him. “I’ve let you get away with calling me Virginia. Do
not
press your luck unless you’re ready to sacrifice a couple nuts of your own.”

He couldn’t fathom why the threat of having his balls torn off made him smile, but it did. “You were saying, Virginia?”

“I was saying Grandma B encouraged me to think about people’s problems, and what I could do to help. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she enjoyed a juicy piece of gossip as much as the next person—maybe more—but along with that, she had genuine concern and compassion, and a lack of patience for people who sat around complaining about a problem rather than trying to solve it. She always urged me to get involved. And I have, in my own little ways, but I can do more. For way too long I’ve sat around complaining about certain things that can only be fixed at the town council level, and it’s time for me to put up or shut up.”