Hard Ridin' (7 page)

Tearing away, he panted for control, fighting the need to tear off their clothes and pound into her tight little body until he spurted his release. But he had to make this good—keep her coming back for more. And he’d possessed far too many dreams of this moment to dash it all away for an orgasm.

Gently, he ran his hands down her sides and encircled her wrists. “I want to hold your arms down while I lick your breasts. Will you let me do that?”

She made a soft noise like a sob or gasp. “Yes.”

A grin stretched the corner of his mouth upward. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight and her dark hair was an inky blot around the pale oval of her face. Holding her gaze, Jens knelt between her thighs. He caught the hem of her soft cotton shirt and tugged it up, trailing his fingers over the sliver of flesh he’d created. That band of skin threatened to undo him.

He ground his molars and fought to keep from coming in his pants like a teenage boy. Inch by inch, he exposed her. When he reached her breasts, he found them bare. He skimmed the undersides, aware of how rough his fingers must have been on her delicate skin.

She tossed her head back and pinched her eyes shut as he worked over the curves, purposely avoiding her nipples. Pulling her shirt over her head, he bit off a growl as her full breasts bounced.

“Damn, Laurel. You’re so beautiful.” He’d never seen her breasts before, but had fondled them enough through her shirt. He knew the way they filled his palms perfectly, and he’d fantasized more than once about coming all over them.

His cock throbbed painfully.

She gazed up at him, eyes aglow. “Touch me, Jens. I need you.”

He didn’t need more invitation. Hovering over her, he captured her lips, sucking and drawing on her tongue until she writhed. She raked her nails lightly over his shoulders, grasping at his shirt as he moved down to her throat.

Countless minutes had been spent worshipping the column of her throat and he knew exactly where to put his mouth to pull the biggest cries from her. Her whole body moved beneath him, hips bucking, breasts heaving, belly dipping. He kissed a blazing path down her throat to her collarbones, then lower to the valley between her breasts, holding her hands down as promised.

Her breath washed over his hair. Sticking out his tongue, he traced her cleavage, and then bathed the undersides of her breasts. Using quick strokes, he circled each, still avoiding the two straining buds.

“Jens…”

“Mmm?”

“You’re killing me.”

“Mmm-hmm. I’m going to push you a lot further before dawn lights that sky, baby.” He sealed his promise by covering one rosy nipple with his mouth.

“Ahh!” She jerked and twitched. He tormented the bud, licking, nipping, lapping, sucking. She came off the bed, and he lashed her to him, skimming her warm flesh with his palms.

Turning to the other nipple, he stole a peek at her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth a silent O of bliss. The need inside him blazed out of control.

Again, he gently grasped her wrists and locked them to the mattress. Her eyes popped open. “Tell me when you need to stop. Give me a safe word.”

She obviously spewed the first thing that jumped into her head. “Peat moss.”

He folded in half, convulsing with laughter. “Laurel, you’re perfect for me.” With that, he returned to her breasts. Alternating between long, slow strokes and faster ones, he varied the pressure. From hard to light and from biting to barely breathing on her peaked skin.

She twisted her wrists under his hands, straining to touch him. He continued to torment her. When he left her bed, she was damn well going to feel it. Every inch of her body would remember him.

And she wasn’t going to be able to walk either.

Possession flared to life in him. He placed rough kisses down the V of her ribs to her navel. For a long minute, he tasted it, learning its depth and drawing coos from her.

He lifted his head. “If I release your hands, you can’t touch me. Promise, Laurel.”

“Yes! Anything, Jens. Just please!”

He slipped off the edge of the bed and reached for her. Tugging the lounge pants she wore over her hips, he dragged her panties with them. When he pulled them off her bare feet, he abandoned the garments on the floor.

“Holy fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, racked with the need to dive between those succulent little thighs and taste her nectar. A soft patch of curls formed a line of love to her swollen pussy lips. He was glad to see she possessed pubic hair. It was so much more feminine than some of the hairless women he’d seen in magazines. Besides, the hair would hold her scent and flavors better.

He kicked off his boots and stripped out of his shirt. She watched him unbutton it, twisting her hands into the covers.

“I want to touch you, Jens.”

“Not yet.”

He leaned over her once again. “I’m going to hold your arms down while I lick your pussy, Laurel. Will you let me?”

“Oh my God. Yesss.”

The scent of her arousal struck him—mouthwatering. Like candy. He felt every beat of his heart in his cock.

Easing his hands beneath her, he slid her up the bed and stretched out between her thighs. Her slick folds drew him like a bee to honey. Grasping her wrists, he opened his mouth and delivered an intimate kiss to her pussy.

Flavors burst on his tongue. Groaning, he filled his head with her scent and taste, unmoving as he gathered every bit and committed it to memory. Her tissues contracted under his tongue. Against her flesh, he whispered, “Your pussy is so beautiful. Sexy.”

“Jens!”

He dipped his tongue between her sweet lips and ran it over the seam, from bottom to top. When he reached her clit, he flattened his tongue to taste it fully.

Shuddering, she jerked against his restraint, hips twisting and turning as she sought more of his kiss.

Out of his head with want, he drove his tongue into her sweet opening. She spread her legs to give him better access. Extending his tongue, he reached into her juicy channel. Cream soaked his tongue and he lapped at her walls to gather more.

Her body rose to meet his tongue thrusts. After exploring each inch of her pussy, he then moved up to taste her nubbin. He sucked it gently into his mouth, and she bucked wildly. He pinned her thighs with his forearms, locking her to his mouth. Her flesh swelled on his tongue and he swirled over it, delighting in each moan he drew from her.

“I can’t stop.” Her whispered words sliced through him, and he nearly released then and there.

He rumbled an answer, battling his own needs. Then he stroked a figure-eight pattern over her clit until she ceased to breathe for a long minute.

A guttural groan escaped her, and suddenly, she was pulsing on his tongue. Cream soaked his lips and jaw. He ground her clit into her body, extending her release. She plucked at his pinky finger with her nails, her entire body taut and trembling as her orgasm rushed her.

As the last pulsations ebbed away, he slowed his intimate kiss. When she began to twitch, he lifted his head. Their gazes met across the length of her body. In that look, he saw something deep and powerful.

She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “Please, Jens. Fill me. I need to feel you inside me.”

Rocketing to his feet, he dug into his jeans pocket and unearthed one of several condoms he’d come armed with. He tossed it to her and she began opening it as he shed his jeans.

Never removing her gaze from his body, she pulled the condom free and sat up to fit the rubber onto the head of his aching shaft. He stepped out of his jeans and pushed off his socks, and then moved atop her, his cock poised at her entrance.

“Watch me as I take you, Laurel.”

“Yes.” She turned her mouth into his and they shared a sweet, lingering kiss. Passion filled his veins, and his head spun with the realization that he was finally going to make her his—would be able to show her how deep his love for her ran.

Gripping her thighs, he hitched them around his hips, angling her perfectly to receive him. “Say my name as I enter you, Laurel.”

She pressed her mouth to his ear, and as he eased past her wet folds, she whispered, “Jens.”

His heart turned over. In one thrust, he joined them. Spikes of heat stabbed him deep as her body hugged him tight. Biting off the urge to bellow his ecstasy, he closed the space between their bodies so not a fraction separated them.

A shuddering breath left her and she lifted her hips until he was seated at the tip of her womb. “God, you’re huge. I can feel you stretching me.”

Pleasure claimed his senses, and he began to move. Withdrawing, he watched her features shiver. Then he plunged deep once more.

“Fuck, you’re tight. So hot. I can feel you contracting.” He sank his teeth into the side of her throat and sucked the skin into his mouth, marking her. Desperate to show in some way that she was his.

She clenched around his shaft, and he could hold back no more. Wildly, he sank into her again and again, reaching toward that unseen end. He lifted her against him, sliding his cock over her needy bundle of nerves.

With a cry, she burst. He pounded into her, cock growing steelier as he began to come.

His mind blanked and he only felt. His entire world was Laurel—surrounded by her scent, her flavors alive on his tongue, her body wrapped around his. Roaring with completion, the final jets of come left him, and her body grew limp in his hold.

He blindly sought her mouth. Threading his fingers into her hair, he delivered an open-mouthed kiss. Did she feel his heart drumming against her chest? Could she feel the emotion pouring through his lips?

Now that he had her, he’d never let her go. He just had to win.

As he stroked Laurel’s hair and continued to spatter kisses over her face, throat and body, gearing up for another round of lovemaking, he fleetingly thought of Holden. He didn’t want to see that look of anguish on his friend’s face again. But another part of Jens—a primal part of him—would fight to the death for Laurel.

The discs towed behind the tractor had a squeaky wheel, and that squeaky wheel set Holden’s teeth on edge. He winced at the screech as he made a wide turn around the field for another pass.

It’s not the wheel driving me over the edge.
No, it was the plain view of the Ransom place that he had. The big old house loomed at the top of the field, and a watery shaft of sunlight slanted across the face of it, illuminating the windows. Behind those windows were Laurel and Jens.

The fucker who called himself Holden’s “friend” had spent the night with her.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Holden cussed. It felt so good, he cussed again. Then he tilted his head back and loosed a torrent of obscenities into the sky. “Goddamn fucking hell shit damn piss bastard!”

He screamed until his vocal cords strained against the walls of his throat. The final curse ended on a croak.

The scents of fresh soil and crushed grass filled the early morning air. As he guided the tractor away from the house, digging into the earth so they’d be ready for that first planting, his mind worked furiously.

Maybe he should go up to the house, drag Jens from the bed and do a better job at knocking those teeth out.

Or should he continue to work the ground that was Laurel’s dream? Never in a thousand years would he have guessed she’d risk everything to be an organic farmer. The more he thought of it, the more sense it made. She worked closely with food, and what better way to bring nutrition to the people?

When she’d talked about the venture, passion had flushed her face and made her dark eyes spark.

Yeah, Holden would do this for her. He’d also have her set up with a massive shipment of fertilizer to produce healthier organic crops. The fertilizer had cost more money than he’d ever put into such a thing, but for her, it was worth every penny.

I’m not buying her. I’m just swinging the odds in my favor.

He slowed the tractor for another pass, craning to look over his shoulder to make sure the discs were doing their job. They sliced into the sod and turned it over. About twenty more passes, and the soil would be rich and loamy, ready to receive the fertilizer and then the seeds.

He pivoted forward again. The sunlight flashed on the tall front windows of the house. He glared at the upper ones. One of them was probably Laurel’s. How many nights had Jens spent here?

Holden ground his teeth at the thought. The shriek of the disc wheel severed his control. After jerking the tractor to a stop, he set the brake and leapt the six feet to the ground. His boots sank deep, and he yanked them free, striding back to the discs.

“Son of a bitchin’ thing, stop squeaking!” He kicked a few circles of steel, careful not to cut up his boot. One circle of metal wobbled more than the others on that side, and he kicked it again.

For a long minute, he stared at the dirty, rusted plate of metal. He could do jack shit about it out here. He needed a wrench, bolts—hell, he might need a welder. His only course was to get back on the tractor and continue to drag the squeaky disc around the field.

As he climbed back up onto the tractor seat, he drew a deep breath.