Just Once (17 page)

His thumb strokes the crease at the top of my thigh, demanding—and getting—my attention. “And people can’t know.”

“Know what?”

“About what’s going to happen.”

My eyes fly up to meet his.

“I want you, Kate, so damn bad.”

I swallow thickly, and my eyes drift back down. I can’t seem to stop watching his hand.

“Just once,” he says quietly. “We’ll get it out of our systems and things can go back to normal.”

“There’s nothing normal about this.”

Shane smiles faintly. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” His fingers wiggle higher now, pressing against the flimsy, wet gusset of my panties, tracing the seam against my pussy.

“Ah…” I try and fail to form a word.

“But I promise to make you come,” he whispers. “And come and come and come. Until you can’t take any more.”

“Shane…”

“And then I’ll make you come again.”

Oh God.

“And when you can’t walk tomorrow, it won’t be because of your leg.”

I’m dying. I feel like I’m disintegrating, and pieces of me are washing away in the river.

When I speak, my voice is hoarse. “That’s a lot of promises.”

“What do you say?”

I’m not crazy.

Or perhaps I am.

But I know what I want.

Chapter Ten

W
E
G
ET
O
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F
T
HE
W
ATER
and walk wordlessly down the trail, towels wrapped around our waists. This time Shane waits for me. I try to walk naturally, but we’re at a near-run. My foot doesn’t hurt anymore. The only thing I can think about is the burning ache between my legs and the fact that my heart is pounding so hard I might pass out.
This is happening
, I tell myself.
It’s happening, so don’t overthink it
.

We reach the trailer, and Shane digs through the pockets of the cargo pants slung over his arm until he finds the key. He pushes open the door and waits for me to pass through. Maybe later I’ll tell myself I should have thought long and hard about what I was going to do, that I should have counted to ten and waited until I regained my sanity before stepping over the threshold, evaluated the pros and cons like a thoughtful, rational adult. But I do no such thing. Shane’s eyes are on mine as I step out of my wet sneakers, drop my damp clothes in a ball on the porch, and walk inside. He follows right behind me, and even through my wet shirt I can feel the heat radiating off his bare chest. The man is a furnace.

Every warning about playing with fire zings through my mind, but I dismiss them. I want this. I’m not playing games, and neither is Shane as he grips my shoulders and turns us so my back is to the door and he’s pressed up against me. He lowers his head so our eyes are inches apart and looks at me more closely and thoughtfully than anyone ever has. He’s checking to make sure I’m okay, that my expectations are in line with what today is about. And they are.
Just once
, we agreed. And that will be enough. It’s like what I tell myself before polishing off a family-size bag of potato chips:
I shouldn’t do this, but if I eat them all now, it’ll take care of the craving and I won’t want any more later.

“Kate,” he says quietly, then grips my chin in his hand, tilts my face to his, and kisses me. It may sound melodramatic, but just for a second, the world stops. I can’t decide if it’s more impossible to believe we’ve only known each other three weeks or that I’ve lasted three weeks without the delicious pressure of his lips on mine. For such a hard, rough man, his lips are impossibly soft. They’re warm and sure, and his calloused fingers stroke my jaw before tugging enough that my lips open and he pushes his tongue into my mouth.

Okay, now the world definitely stops. I am not a moaner and a groaner, but
damn
if I can keep this one inside. This puts everything I thought I knew to shame. His mouth, his tongue, his fingers on my face—this is all I can think about. All I can feel. I’m consumed by him, and we’re just getting started.

Shane seems to feel it too, whatever this is—this desperate rush of lust that changes my definition of
now and forever
: I want him right now, but I want this to last forever too. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him impossibly closer, molding our wet bodies together. He pushes a knee between mine, and he’s so tall that his big thigh immediately presses into my pussy. I wantonly spread my legs so he can grind against my swollen clit, and he obliges with rough nudges.

I moan and twist my head away, eyes squeezed tight as too many feelings flood through me. I thought the dream was good, I thought the dream was hot—the dream was a dish of soft serve. This is the whole fucking sundae.

“Kate,” he says again, something hard in his voice. His fingers turn my face back to his, and he ravages my mouth like he’ll die if he doesn’t. It’s the first break in his no-nonsense façade, a tiny glimpse inside the man who comes across as serious and domineering, but who, I’m discovering, is just someone who knows what he wants and takes it. With a man I wanted less I might feel alarm or concern, but with him I’m simply willing. Sex with Shane isn’t a game or a story to tell my friends, it’s a need. A basic, elemental craving that won’t go away with time or denial.

I lower one hand between us, finding his straining erection against my stomach, and stroke him with my fingers. He hisses and pulls back, his hands going to the hem of my wet shirt and pulling it over my head. He undoes my bra like a pro, tossing it over his shoulder, and flashes me a quick, dirty smile as he drops to his knees and pulls my wet panties down to my ankles. I step out and he tosses them aside. I wait for him to stand and lose the boxer briefs, but instead he stays on his knees, studying me. He’s looking so intently that I start to squirm. I nearly combust when he leans forward and presses his mouth between my thighs, lips parting, tongue darting out to lick my folds, one hot, long swipe after another.

“Shane.” The word comes out garbled. I twist my fingers in his hair and try to pull him away. It’s too much, and I definitely want this to last longer—the
now
can wait. At least a little bit, anyway. The sight of his eyes lifting up to mine while his mouth continues its assault nearly makes me come. A hot rush of desire floods my sex, and I can see him smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Shane,” I repeat, tugging on his hair with one hand, pushing at his shoulder with the other. “I don’t—I’m going to come. It’s too soon. Not yet.”

If anything, he picks up the pace. My legs are splayed awkwardly, his shoulders pinning my thighs in place against the door, feet turned out. I’m flailing weakly as my stomach clenches and something overpowering takes over. He uses one hand to sling my leg over his shoulder, opening me even more, then snares my wrists in his fingers and holds my hands away from his head. He’s not going to stop. I give in. I can’t stop either, at this point.

“Sha—” I start to warn him, but he exposes my clit with his teeth and fastens his lips around it, sucking hard. I explode. I cry out and curl forward. He frees my wrists and I catch myself on his shoulders, muscles seizing and releasing, juices gushing. I have no words. Bent over like this I can hear the gentle sucking sounds as he eats me, his tongue plunging deep inside then flicking again and again over my clit.

I struggle to catch my breath as the last spasms ebb away. I have climaxed before. I have even had great oral sex. I have known wonderful lovers, men who enjoyed giving pleasure as much as they enjoyed receiving it. But I have never felt like someone wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop tasting me, and it’s intense and overwhelming. I cry out when he latches onto my clit again—I’m too sensitive. The ache that’s been gnawing at me for weeks has somehow only intensified.

I straighten and push his face away, and this time he lets me. He looks up from the floor, keeping his eyes on mine as he wipes a hand across his mouth. He’s so fucking hot it’s ridiculous, and when he stands up and pushes the boxer briefs down his legs I inhale audibly. He’s enormous. Of course he is. Everything about him is too much for me. I’m so wet I can feel the moisture cooling on the inside of my thighs, but thanks to that orgasm I’m also tight and swollen—there’s no way this will work. But there’s also no way I’m leaving this trailer without having felt that thing inside me.

I start to drop to my knees to return the favor, but Shane stops me with a hand under my arm. “No,” he says. “I’ll never last.”

He pins me to the door and lowers his face to my breasts, focusing that talented mouth on my nipples, one then the other until they’re hard and aching. I’ve never really cared for having my nipples sucked. Some of the guys I’ve slept with have been into it, so I’ve tolerated it, but it doesn’t do much for me. I love watching Shane’s head bowed so reverently, though, feeling those big hands holding me so gently, feeling the same tongue that just did unspeakable things below, now laving so sweetly. He pulls back and blows lightly, the cool air making my nipples tighten even further.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters into my skin, and something inside me breaks. A tiny piece of the wall comes down, even if it’s just for a little while. I’m used to men who are cultured and experienced, men who have been with women far more beautiful than me. I accepted their compliments the way I was taught: with a smile and a thank you, and usually one in return. But right now I can’t think of anything to say. I believe Shane. Even covered in river water and dust, I believe him.

He straightens suddenly and gathers both my hands in one of his, raising them above my head so my spine is arched and my breasts press into his chest. He looks into my eyes as his other hand reaches between my thighs, cupping my pussy in his palm, like he’s holding my whole world in his hand. Slowly his fingers press higher, three squeezing into me. I’m stretched so taut that I can’t move away, can’t look away. I can only bite my lip and close my eyes while I acquiesce.

“Open your eyes,” Shane says.

I do.

“Look at me.”

His dark eyes are fathomless, unreadable, as always. If not for the tick in his jaw, the telltale movement of his throat as he swallows, the searing heat of the tip of his erection on my stomach, I wouldn’t know he wants this as much as I do.

When his fingers can’t get any deeper he pulls them out and slowly pushes them back in. I groan. He does it again. And again. A slow finger fuck that’s eventually joined by his thumb on my clit, circling the swollen bud with merciless precision.

“Shane, please,” I gasp after several long minutes of sweet torture.

He chuckles and leans in to bite my neck, hard enough to make me tighten around his thick fingers. “Please what?” he asks.

“Fuck me,” I whisper into his hair.

He pulls back and kisses me. Hard and thoroughly, tasting every inch of my mouth. I suck on his tongue and try to pull more of him into me. I want him inside, every huge, hot inch, but his fingers aren’t slowing and neither is his mouth.

“Come again,” he orders. His voice may be soft, but the note of command is there. The same tone that would outrage me any other time but now only makes me wetter. Being ordered to come is hardly something to complain about, but even if I wanted to argue, I couldn’t, because I can feel my internal muscles clasping his thrusting fingers, pulling him deeper, higher, until there’s nowhere left to go and I come again. My legs fail me, and it’s just Shane’s hand inside me and his grip under my arm that hold me up as I let the pleasure have its way.

When the contractions have ceased, I open my eyes to find him watching me. “What are you doing to me?” I whisper.

He smiles and leans in to kiss me, his tongue tracing my lips. “Anything and everything.”

Again I reach for his straining cock and again he takes away my hand. If I couldn’t see it for myself, I’d think he was hiding something. “I’m going to come the second you touch me,” he murmurs against my mouth. “It’s too soon.”

“I was thinking about the ‘just once’ thing,” I begin, interrupted by his searching tongue.

“Oh yeah?”

“I think
just one
might be more appropriate,” I get out on a groan. “Like, just one afternoon.”

He chuckles. “Okay.”

“So you don’t have to worry if you come right away,” I continue. “You can come again after. And again after that. And again…”

I wriggle my hand from his grasp and wrap it around his cock. He’s smooth and hot against my palm. Shane hisses out a breath and buries his face in my neck, lips and teeth seeking and finding a tendon, biting down lightly. It’s my turn to hiss and tighten my grip, twisting my wrist and jerking my hand up and down roughly.

“Shit, Kate, that’s it,” he grunts, thrusting into my palm. “Like that.”

“Back up,” I whisper, still pinned to the door. “I want to suck your cock.”

He stills. “You sure?”

“Of course I am.”

He leans back slightly. I don’t know why he’s hesitating. Blow jobs aren’t my favorite thing, but I’ve never had a guy turn one down. Plus I really do want to suck Shane’s cock. He’s controlled both of my orgasms so far. It seems only fair.