Adam's Thorn (30 page)

Again he stopped, again he held
her.

When Barbie dropped her head between
her arms, breath coming from her in shuddering gasps, she saw part of Adam from
between her legs.  His shaft was thick, hard, glistening at the tip.  Throbbing
and angry, it demanded relief.  How could he possibly maintain control?  Was he
made of iron?

When he licked her a third time,
she swore.

Adam nipped her bottom cheek.

“Please, Adam.”  She’d beg him on
her hands and knees if she had to.  “Please. 
Please
.”

His hands left her, the sensuous
slide of his body going up along her thighs, his shaft lodging for several hot
seconds between her legs before it slid angrily upwards as Adam leaned over
her, his arms each side of her, his hands braced on the mattress each side of
hers.

His cheek rubbed alongside hers. 
“Poor baby.  Have you been crying?’

“What?  No.”  She blinked.

“Your cheek is wet.”

Oh shit, she had been crying. 
“Your fault,” she managed to gasp.

“Yeah, baby, all my fault.”  He
chuckled.

He sounded so pleased, so
satisfied.  “You’re a conceited jerk.”

“And you’re a little harpy.”  He
kissed her cheek, licked the tear away.  “You loved it.”

Yeah, there as no doubting the
tears were from frustration all right, but also from pure desire, the need for
him to take her.

She opened her mouth to tell him
so, to demand he do something -
anything
- when he placed his hand on her
bottom.  “Get up on the bed.”

Oh, thank God!  Thank you thank
you thank you!
 Barbie crawled up on the bed, was ready to roll on to her
back when his arm around her waist stopped her.

“Up on your knees, arms raised.”

“What?”  She couldn’t see him
behind her, but she felt his hands at the hem of her camisole.  “Oh.”  Lifting
her arms, she allowed him to draw the camisole off, leaving her naked.

Before she could do anything more,
Adam leaned past her, snagged two of the pillows and set them before her.  “Hips
on the pillows, baby.”  When she hesitated, he added, “My way.”

Lowering her hips onto the
pillows, she realised how open she was to him, her secret places laid bare, the
cool air teasing her sensitized, damp folds.  The position was erotic, decadent,
making her feel almost sinful.

Sinful with Adam, what a dark, delicious
thought.

The sound of a packet tearing, a shift
of the mattress behind her and she tensed, ready for his invasion, only to
groan when his tongue licked along her folds again, the tip teasing the
entrance to  her body.

Barbie felt as though she couldn’t
take anymore, no more teasing, no more preparation, no more playing with her
body.  Her nerves were screaming, her cream making her labia slippery, and the
sensation of Adam licking her almost dry was torturous.

“Adam, please, I can’t -
ooohhhhhh
!” 
Her lashes fluttered shut, teeth clenching as Adam entered her, his shaft so thick,
long and hard, forcing its way through her tight sheath, tunnelling deep until
his groin was hard against her, his sac tapping her labia, the combined sensation
almost tipping her over the edge then and there.

She thought he’d start pounding
into her, but instead he began a slow, maddening rhythm, hips thrusting at a
steady pace.

Coming up onto her elbows, she arched
her body, pushed her hips up into him, and the heady feel of him above her, his
arms each side of her as he rode her firmly but controlled, had her feeling not
only frustrated and sexually heated, but oddly protected as well.

Sensitized as she was, it didn’t
take long for the long, smooth strokes to push her up the peak once more, and
eagerly she rushed towards it, heat pooling so low, fire dragging along her
sheath, his consistent invasion of her making her throb and squirm, fingers
twisting in the doona as her pulses sped, blood roared, nerves splintered.

Steadily he pushed her, hips
rocking, rocking, a slight shift of his angle that caused him to hit something
inside her, making her gasp and shiver.  And then he kept hitting that spot,
slow, steady, his every controlled movement so completely opposite to her wild,
churning heat.

Suddenly he pulled almost all the
way out, stilled, and teetering on that brink, Barbie actually had a sob spill
from her.  “No, Adam,
no
!”

He shoved in hard and fast, almost
merciless, pressing that magical spot and pushing her right out over the edge,
the orgasm shattering her, flinging her beyond any erotic passion she’d ever
experienced in her life.

When she came to, it was to feel
heat still burning, still burning insistently because Adam still rode her, hips
rocking against her, thighs pressing insistently against the backs of hers, his
hands still  each side of her head bracing himself above her.

As she lifted her head, gasping
with spent passion and burgeoning desire once more, he caught her chin, pulling
her face around to take her lips in a ruthless kiss, ravaging her mouth before
releasing her, looking into her eyes with a burning gaze, the pure carnal heat
reflected in his dark eyes taking her breath as surely as his mouth had done.

Smoothly, he placed himself above
her again, and now he started to thrust harder, faster, strong thighs driving,
hips shoving against her, and she moaned, holding onto the bed covers, unable
to do anything more than take what he gave her.

His stance changed, his arms
disappearing, hard, muscled body straightening.  His big hands clamped each
side of her hips, she could feel him spreading his knees as he came up behind
her, adjusting his position.  Now his rhythm changed, becoming shorter, faster,
even harder as he literally pounded into her, shaft driving deep, so deep,
possessing her inside as he controlled her outside.

Sensation spiralled through her,
heat and desire, carnality and oddly, sweetness, combining together to form a
light that burned hotter, flaring out of control as Adam shoved into her,
fingers digging into her hips as he held her for his pleasure, taking her with
him.

This time he didn’t push her up
that fiery slope.  He ruthlessly dragged her along with him, giving no quarter,
no mercy.  He just grabbed her, pounded into her, yanked her up the slope,
through the fire, burning her with his touch, his dangerous desire, giving her
no choice but to follow where he led.

His shaft pounded into the magical
spot, pressing, forcing, and with his name screaming in the air, his harsh
grunt ringing in her ears, his hips shoved hard into hers, his shaft thick and
straining, the heat felt even through the condom he’d sheathed himself with, Barbie
was flung into a shattering world of pure hedonism.

The last thing she heard was her name
ground out harshly, one last punishing thrust of hard hips, and then she was
gone, sucked under a wave of glorious prurience.

Chapter 9

Sitting on the back veranda steps,
a mug of hot tea in his hand, Adam looked out into the dusk.  The kitchen light
shone through the security screen and window, dappling the veranda in clear
light.

Bare feet curling on the wooden
step, he took a sip of tea.  Inside the house all was quiet, no sound except
that of Fred chasing a moth across the kitchen floor.

He’d left Barbie curled up
asleep.  Getting up quietly, he’d picked up a light blanket that had been
draped over an old armchair and laid it over her curvy figure.  For several
minutes he’d just watched her, studying the softness of her features, the
relaxing of her mouth, soft, plump lips slightly parted as she drew deep, even
breaths.  A flush still rode her cheeks, and she stretched beneath his gaze
before curling up again, settling her head on the pillow and continuing her
repleted slumber.

A woman well-loved, that’s what
she’d looked like.  A woman well loved by him.  His gaze wandered down the lush
curves outline by the blanket.  He’d tasted her, touched her, explored that
luscious body, taken her and rode her hard. 

It hadn’t stilled the ardour
inside him, he still desired her. Still wanted her. 

That kind of blew his mind a
little.

Needing time to think, Adam donned
only his trousers before padding barefoot to the kitchen.  Switching on the
light, he plugged in the kettle.  Turning, he found Fred and Barney sitting
beside the ‘fridge.  At first he thought they were looking at him accusingly,
but then he realised, as they watched him search for and find the tea bags,
that their gazes were actually hopeful.

Glancing at the clock on the wall
above the kitchen bench, he realised it was probably their tea time.  Seven o’clock. 
Maybe even past their tea time.

“Hang on.”  He opened the pantry
and looked at the boxes and canned goods before discovering the tins of cat
food on the second shelf.  “Cripes, which one?” There was a virtual smorgasbord. 
Glancing back at the two cats, he muttered, “Spoiled much?”

Choosing one large can of fish, he
plopped half a tin into each of the two bowls he found on the draining board,
pretty certain he had the right bowls seeing as one had ‘Barney’ printed on it,
the other ‘Fred’.

The cats fell onto it like they’d
never eaten for days, but spotting the bowl of half eaten cat biscuits beside
the bowl of fresh water next to the laundry door, he realised he was being
conned.  Big time.  Besides, the cats were both a little chunky, so…

Grinning, he switched the kettle
off just as it started steaming, pouring the hot water into a mug.  Keeping the
teabag inside the mug, he walked out the back door, shutting the security
screen behind him to keep the cats inside before easing himself down on the
veranda steps.

The quiet countryside soothed him,
though he realised he’d never felt so settled in a  long time.  Since Barbie
had arrived in Peeron weeks ago, in fact.  Right now, he was totally relaxed,
at peace.  He’d have thought bedding what was regarded as his arch enemy by the
townsfolk would have made him even tenser.

It was the exact opposite.

Another sip of hot tea, this
mouthful made much stronger by the tea bag stewing in the hot water.

Taking a deep breath, he gazed out
at the desolate backyard.  The clothesline looked forlorn in the gloom, the
rosebushes silent guard over the graves.  To some it would be a little creepy,
but it didn’t bother him.  Sitting in a graveyard several nights in a row
waiting for vandals years ago in the city had cured him of any creepiness
around graves. Personally, he found them rather peaceful.  The occupants didn’t
talk.

Rolling his shoulders, he swirled
the tea a little in the mug to help cool it.

Okay, now what?  He’d had mad,
crazy, hot sex with Barbie Declan.  Ever since he’d had to leave her when her
visitors arrived, he’d had fire burning low in his belly.  Even the call-out to
help Brandon and the Sarge with the car accident found ten miles out hadn’t
eased the fire.  Diverted him, yes, but it hadn’t made him forget.

As soon as everything had been
taken care of, the crumpled car’s unconscious occupants taken to the local
hospital by ambulance after the fire brigade freed them from the car using the
jaws of life, the car towed by the local tow truck, and the road cleared so
traffic could go through, the Sarge had sent him home to finish the last of his
day off while he and Brandon did the paperwork.

Once relieved of duty, his thoughts
had turned straight to Barbie, that wicked mouth, the sultry look in her eyes,
the way she’d played him like a fine violin, and he’d not wasted another
minute.  Not bothering to go home and change, he’d driven straight to her house
to find her sitting on the veranda step chatting on her mobile.

One look into her big, wide, pale
blue eyes so heavily fringed with thick eyelashes, that wicked little mouth
trembling a little at the sight of him, that little flicker of uncertainty on
her pretty face, and he’d acted on instinct.

Secure the car, capture the girl,
have his wicked way with her.

God, it
had
been wicked. 
Grinning, he looked at the dim outline of the shed rapidly being swallowed by
gathering night. That lush body had been so responsive, every sweet curve a
sensuous addition to her light, floral scent that even now he could smell on
his skin.

Lowering his nose to his arm, he
inhaled deeply.  The strawberry scent of her hair seeped through him, the
memory of her hair spread across his arm when he’d rolled to the side and
pulled her back against him, spooning her in depleted bliss.

Such a soft, warm bundle cuddled
against him.

So, again, now what?

Really, he wasn’t sure.  He knew
things had changed, knew he couldn’t just go on as though nothing had
happened.  Barbie had been dogging his thoughts for days, his dreams for
nights.  Now, well, the thorn in his side had gotten completely under his
skin.  Somehow, someway, Barbie had argued, snapped, snarled and then sweetly
and irrevocably wormed her way into his heart.

He almost spilled the tea. 
Heart? 
What the hell..?  No, no, no, it was just - well, lust.  Yep, definitely lust. 
And the beginnings of friendship.

Lifting the mug, he inhaled the aroma
of hot tea, clearing his senses both mentally and physically.   Maybe a little
more than friendship.  Certainly a lot more than friendship.  Lovers?  Opening
his eyes a fraction, he pondered.

Okay, lovers sounded all right. 
He could certainly go another round with his little thorn in that bed…or lounge
room…kitchen…pretty much anywhere, and a heck of a lot more than once, too. 
Remembering both his and Barbie’s fiery reactions, the heated sex, he just knew
he’d never get enough of her.