Her Last Line of Defense (11 page)

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Authors: Marie Donovan

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BOOK: Her Last Line of Defense
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C
LAIRE STARED AT HIM,
still limp and sweaty from Luc’s demanding mouth. She knew her face was red, and she hoped he thought it was from her climax instead of embarrassment. She’d always declined that particular act, and her boyfriends had probably been grateful, eager to get onto the main act.
But everything with Luc was the main act. She’d never imagined any sensations like the ones he’d demanded with that mouth, those lips, that tongue—even his teeth. He even might have bit her gently at one point.

That had been the best climax ever, and now it was his turn. She spread her legs wide, waiting for him to sheathe himself inside her. Maybe she could come again if he played with her.

Instead, he straddled her waist, careful to keep his weight off her, his powerful thighs bunching with the effort. His heavy penis rested on her stomach, his male sac tickling her skin. Instead of moving down her body, though, he moved up.

Leaning forward to rest his hands on either side of her head, he began thrusting, deliberately rubbing himself all over her breasts. His skin was soft and silky and hot—so very hot. He left a trail of slippery fluid on her skin, marking her as his. She never knew anything like this was possible as he drew circles around her nipples with his penis, making her hips wiggle under him again.

The pressure between her legs built, but Luc didn’t show any inclination to hurry, no tendency to push inside her and relieve his own desire.

“Luc?” she asked. His eyes were closed, his breath coming quickly.

He opened his eyes. “What are you willing to do to please me, my captive
?

Her answer was immediate. “Anything.”

“Bien. Léche-moi.
” He delicately brushed her lips with the tip of his erection, commanding her to lick him. Claire stared at him, her eyes wide. She knew if she’d refused, Luc would not force her, but she was deep in their fantasy and didn’t want to leave it. She’d never done this before, either, but tonight was a night for firsts.

She opened her mouth hesitantly and he glided in, hot and salty inside her. He moved slowly in and out as she got used to the taste and feel of him. She flicked her tongue over his tip to taste him better and he groaned. He was burning hot, slick and salty.

Encouraged by his response, she relaxed her lips and let him sink deeper, her mouth learning his swells and contours, from the juicy, plump head topping his long, thick shaft. She was amazed she had managed to fit all of him before. Of course, coming three or four times tended to make that part easier.

His muscles were straining, and he was fighting the urge to take her roughly. She decided to play with him and sucked gently on him. He shivered, and she allowed herself a smile around him.


Oui, bébé, oui, oui.
” He picked up the pace, her mouth caressing and sucking his swollen flesh.

Claire couldn’t believe how exciting it was to have his powerful body moving over her. She felt powerful, too, his face contorting with his effort at restraint.

She had no such restraint. He had started this game of sex, and she was going to finish it. Now that she knew her power over this man, he was toast. She remembered a little bit of sexual trivia from Janey and hummed as she firmly sucked down on him.

He yelped, a burst of fluid coating her tongue. “No, Claire. Let me go, or I’ll…I’ll…” His words were interspersed with groans.

Shaking her head slightly, she ignored his pleas and licked him some more. He tried to pull out, but she sucked hard on him until he moaned. “Ah, my sweet…Claire…I’m gonna…come.”

Claire gave a hidden smile of satisfaction and daringly scraped her teeth over his supersensitive shaft. Luc shouted his release, calling her name as he exploded into her throat. Claire inhaled deeply and swallowed his hot juices. It was amazing how sex with this man was so different than any other.

He finally stopped shuddering and withdrew, his arms and legs shaking as he dropped into a seated position on the sleeping bags, his back to her.

Claire stared at his bowed spine. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Had she done it wrong? He’d definitely enjoyed himself. Maybe she’d hurt him, using her teeth like that. Or maybe he thought less of her for forcing him to finish like that. Maybe only bimbos let men do
that
to them. She blinked hard. Enough of this kinky stuff. She was obviously bad at it. “Luc? Did I do something wrong?”

L
UC STARTED AT HER
tentative voice. Of course—she wasn’t used to this kind of sex game. He turned around.
Mon Dieu
, she was fighting back tears. Calling himself all sorts of bad names, he pulled her into his arms.
She stretched a bit, her breasts and hips wiggling in unconscious sensuality. Holy crap, he was fifteen kinds of horn-dog to even want to take her all over again right now. “You okay?” He hoped she’d think his erection was left over and not brand-new.

“Fine.” She struggled into a seated position, her dark hair swinging in front of her face so he couldn’t read her expression.

“Um, Claire, was that too much for you?”

“Of course not.” He wasn’t sure, but her laugh sounded fake. “It’s just, I’ve never done…” She trailed off.

“Oh, of course not.” Awkward, anyone? “Um, me neither.” But he wanted to do it again. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

The visible curve of her cheek flushed. “Yes,” she whispered.

Growing bolder, he cupped her chin and tipped her face to his. She avoided his gaze. “I enjoyed myself, too—you know that, don’t you?”

“You did?” She looked at him in surprise. “I thought I hurt you.”

“You? How could you hurt me?”

“With, um, my teeth.” Her last two words were an embarrassed whisper.

Luc swallowed hard and got even harder. Her teeth scraping along his cock had thrown him bodily over the edge. “No. That was really sexy. Did I hurt you, kneeling over you, pushing into your mouth?”

She shook her head. “No. It made me feel…powerful.” She finally met his glance. “Like I was the one in charge despite the circumstances.” Her nipples were tightening again.

He stroked her cheek, running his hand down her slim neck to her fine collarbone. “You were in charge,
ma belle. Totalement
in charge of me. And I know you liked it when I licked your little
clito
.”

He helped her gently lay back down on the sleeping bags. He lay next to her, caressing her breasts.

“Yes.” She breathed faster. “I loved it.” She buried her face in his shoulder.

“Next time, though, you need to ask me for it. I’ll teach you some French you never learned in class. Ready?”

She nodded.

“‘Léche-moi le clito, mon cher.’”
Her face heated against his skin. “Come on, it makes me hot to hear you say what you want.”

“Baise-moi, mon cher.”
Her words were muffled but perfectly understandable. His eyebrows flew up. He doubted she had ever invited a man to fuck her before, but he was more than willing to be the first invitee.

“You got it, sweetheart.” Without another word, he reached into his bag for protection and positioned himself between her thighs.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he slid inside her. They both sighed, her eyes closing. She was tight and still wet from before and he fought to keep from coming again. He’d never been like this before, so eager with a woman that he lost control almost immediately.

She began moving under him, and he fell into a steady rhythm, dipping deep into her and pulling out until only his head stayed inside. She clutched at his shoulders, her breath singeing his skin. Mindful of their walk on the wild side, he kept it slow but she wouldn’t stand for it, wrapping her legs around his hips and grinding into him, her hot, sweet pussy surrounding his cock in a luxurious prison. Ah, who was the captive now?

“Baise-moi plus, mon cher,”
she repeated, urging him to fuck her more. He gave up and slammed into her, plucking at her diamond-hard clit.

After that, she didn’t say anything except his name, called over and over again. She spasmed around him, an orgasmic flush climbing her glistening breasts to her beautiful face. Her mouth fell open as she gasped. He didn’t let up on the finger pressure and she moaned, coming a second time.

She dug her fingers into his ass, and he dropped to his elbows, twisting and writhing on top of her, around her, in her, telling her all sorts of nasty, naughty things he planned to do to her the next time. Tie her up, tie her down, spank her, lick her, spank her while he licked her, spank her while he fucked her…

To his more-than-pleasant surprise, Claire shook and squeezed around him a third time, her head tipped back and her mouth open in a wordless scream.

He threw his own head back in a yell of pure triumph and pistoned into her pulsing heat. His yell turned into a groan as he emptied himself into her welcoming body again. Coming again after such a short time threatened to blow the top of his head off, and he was so wild he barely stayed inside her. She clung limply to him until he pulled out of her with a groan.

“Luc, Luc.” Her voice was hoarse by now. “I never knew…”

He had never known anything like that, either. “I know, I know.” He cleaned himself quickly and pulled her into his arms, his mind whirling. His emotions had run the gamut today, from worry to triumph to this odd mix of lust and tenderness.

And soon the woman of his dreams would fly south to the place of his nightmares.

“H
OW ARE YOUR FEET DOING,
Claire?” Luc looked up from the gear he was packing.
She wiggled them experimentally. The raw patches had healed and she’d double-padded them today. “Pretty good, why?”

“I want to work on your map-reading skills.” He pulled out a paper rectangle and spread out a topographical map.

Claire looked at the squiggles cautiously. It was very different from a forest or highway map, showing what Luc called “contour lines” to delineate the ups and downs of the land. There were also roads, bridges and electrical transmission lines, handy info for men like Luc who probably blew those up overseas. “What do I do?”

“We’re here.” His finger landed squarely on a spot next to a river.

“Really? Are you sure?”

He grinned. “I’ve known exactly where we’ve been the whole time. Why? You thought we were wandering around lost?”

She bit her lip. “Well…”

“Trust me—we’re here. I want you to get us there.” He pointed to a second tiny dot.

“What’s there?” She peered at the dot. “Broomsburg? Is that a town?”

“More like a wide spot in the road—the only populated settlement in this area.” He handed her a compass. “Which way do we go?”

Taking a deep breath, she watched the needle spin and settle facing north. She turned the map so that pointed north, as well, and peered at its layout. Taking a deep breath, she pointed to her right. “We go east.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

She looked at the map and the compass again. “We’re here?”

“Oui.”

“And we want to go here?”

“Oui.”

“It’s east. Let’s go.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He snapped a salute. She bet he looked hotter than hot in his uniform. Well, it was unlikely she’d ever see that, wasn’t it?

She folded the map so she could see the pertinent area and made sure she had enough water for a hike. It was fun to be in charge for once. Goodbye to the girl who had wandered the mall parking lot for almost two hours.

They walked steadily for about an hour, Claire making minor course corrections according to the map. She stopped and bit her lip when they came to a river that wasn’t on the map. Had she taken them the wrong way? She double-checked their route but everything looked right.

“What is it?”

“The river—it doesn’t belong here.”

“Somebody forgot to tell it that.” Luc stared at the sluggish brown water.

What should she do? She looked where they’d come from and hesitated.

“Make a decision, Claire. Forward or backward?”

Enough backtracking. She knew she was right and the river was wrong. Or the map was wrong. It was created by people, after all, and people made mistakes sometimes. “Forward. But we should cross at the narrowest point since we don’t know how deep it is in the middle.”

“Lay on, Macduff,” he quoted in a perfect Scottish accent.

“Don’t tell me you performed in
Macbeth
, too. And I thought it was ‘Lead on, Macduff.’”

“Bad luck to say that play’s name,
béb.
Better calling it the Scottish play. And no, that’s the correct phrase.”

“What part did you have?”

“The title role.”

Claire shook her head. Luc Boudreaux would never be second fiddle to anyone. “Let’s go. And while we walk, you can tell me if your Lady Macbeth was scary in real life.” She picked her way down the riverbank.

“Hoo-wee, was she ever. That actress dabbled in hoodoo and claimed she called up dark spirits during her mad scene. All I know was she made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. What can I say? There are plenty of strange things in the world.”

“Like me running around in the woods?”

“You’re doing a great job, Claire. I should have told you before, but I’m not used to giving compliments to the men I train. You’ve done better than some of them.”

She smiled to herself. “Thank you.” It was a great compliment, considering how little she’d known before setting off on their adventure together. She stopped and grabbed his hand.

“What?” He immediately scanned the woods for danger. “Did you see something?”

“Nope, just you.” Impulsively, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his firm lips.

“Me, huh?” He returned her kiss, drawing her tight against him. The river rushed next to them, but not hard enough to drown out the roaring in her ears. His mouth was warm and wet, and he kissed her leisurely, as if they were sitting on a park bench with all the time in the world. She stroked the rugged line of his jaw with her free hand, and he turned his face to kiss her palm.

Her eyes flew open. His display of tenderness had surprised him, too, judging from how his black eyes widened before his customary cool mask dropped into place.

Claire turned back to her map, confused. She thought she was the only one who was fighting off feelings of affection, but if Luc started returning her feelings, she was sunk. Once in San Lucas, she could manage a wistful memory of the “one who got away,” but if he
did
want to chase her, she was pretty sure she’d let herself be caught.

But that couldn’t be her focus right now. She had to laugh. Here they were in some swampy woods that looked like a t-rex habitat, and her hard-as-nails Special Forces trainer was quoting Shakespeare to her. “So, you’re a Shakespearean actor. Now you have to perform your favorite Shakespeare speech for me.”

He hesitated for a second. “I’ve never performed this role before.”

“Do I look like a drama critic?” She was carefully placing one foot after another to avoid slipping in the mud along the river. “Which one?”

“Okay. It’s King Henry the Fifth of England rallying his outnumbered men before the Battle of Agincourt in 1415.” He took a deep breath and started the monologue about how the valor of his soldiers would cause the entire kingdom to remember the battle and curse the fact they had not fought for England.

By the time he had reached the end, tears ran down Claire’s cheeks and the path was a brown blur in front of her eyes. She swallowed hard several times before speaking. “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers…’” she quoted, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. “I never knew where that quote came from.”

“The St. Crispin’s Day Speech. Really shows what it meant to lead men—Henry led by the strength of his conviction and the force of his personality.”

“Is that how you feel? That you and your team are a band of brothers?”

“Absolutely.” Not a trace of doubt entered his tone. “For he to-day who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.’ I am their brother and they are mine. I would die for them and they would die for me. Some have, matter of fact.”

No wonder there was little room for her—little room for any woman in his life. She needed to remember that before she did something stupid like fall in love with the man. It would be so easy to do—the way his rare smiles grew more frequent, the way his hand lingered on her as he helped her to her feet, the way he looked at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

They would both return to their separate duties once the week was over. She would fly to South America and he would fly somewhere secret in another desperate region of the world.

She didn’t know what to say, so she focused on the river now that her eyes were clear. It had narrowed to a point where she could see the rocky bottom. “Maybe we should cross here.” She fiddled with the compass, unsure where the heck she even was.

Luc was silent behind her, not moving or giving her any hints. She remembered how old King Henry had led and summoned some hidden force of personality. “We cross here.” Not waiting for Luc to agree or confirm her decision, she stepped into the cool water.

He followed her across without comment. She checked the map to reorient herself from the slight detour they’d taken and started walking again.

It wasn’t until about ten minutes later that he spoke. “Hurricane Inez came through several years ago. The flooding cut several new river channels. That was one of ’em.”

“Oh.” She spun to face him and whacked him in the chest with the map. “You gave me an old map? No fair! What kind of trick is that?”

“Did you check the date on the map?” He pointed to the corner.

She peered at the copyright. “1992. Oh.”

“Never trust anyone else’s gear. If you have to borrow, check it out first.”

“Is Broomsburg still there? Or were its inhabitants driven away by the eruption of a long-dormant volcano that doesn’t show up on this map, either?” She shook the paper at him.

He laughed and laughed. “Claire, you say the funniest things. Yeah, Broomsburg is still there and we need to get there. Take the point.”

“Point of what?”

“Take the lead. ‘Take the point’ is army lingo for ‘Lead the way.’”

“Fine.” She looked at the map that was old enough to earn its driver’s license and set off again. Still irritated, she was likely stomping through the woods slightly harder than necessary.

“Claire?” Luc’s voice called.

“What?”

“You did fine. Thought on your feet like a real survivor. You can be my point man anytime.”

“Thanks.” A warm glow spread over her that had little to do with the sweltering heat.

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