Daybreak (24 page)
But he wasn’t done with her yet.
While Pen shivered from her orgasm, he positioned her on his lap and freed his cock at last. She felt relaxed and peaceful in his arms, while he was anything but. He didn’t touch her with his fingers; she’d be too sensitive. Instead he fitted his cock between her thighs, nudging her sex. The wet heat maddened him.
Need to be inside her. Soon.
Pen offered a dreamy, puzzled look as if wondering what they could accomplish at this angle. Her innocence delighted him. God knew, he hadn’t made love to a woman in years; he’d only fucked. And Pen had never made love in her life.
He was about to change all that.
“Ready to go again?” he whispered in her ear.
She shivered, as he knew she would. Sensitive neck. Sensitive ears. She was made for his touch, places he loved to linger. Some men were all about tits, thighs, and ass, which he liked fine, but a beautiful throat drove him wild. It was as if she wore her hair short just to tempt him with glimpses of her nape when she bent to some simple task. That soft, pale flesh was made for his mouth, his teeth.
“Dunno. Convince me.”
Tru nipped her earlobe, tugging. Then he lifted her enough to wedge the head of his cock at her core, so she could feel the heat and the pulse. Anticipation gathered between them.
“I’ll die if I don’t have you.” A lick along her neck. Then a push, so that the damp kiss of her body on his levered him even higher.
“That’s . . . pretty persuasive.” She sounded breathless. Elated.
For this moment, they were just man and woman. Elemental. No other concerns touched them. He risked touching her clit once again. Just a whisper of a caress, but she reacted to it with a moan and a series of tremors.
“Do you want me inside you, love?”
First time he’d used that endearment in years, yet he felt no pain. The wound was scarred but healed. For better or worse, he was a different man—harder in some ways, stronger in others. He wouldn’t let Pen down. He’d give her everything he had. No more running.
“Yes.”
That was all he needed to hear. Thrusting all the way in, he propped himself back on his arms. She caught on fast. If she leaned forward and he angled away, they found the perfect position. Together. That spot would make her scream like a crazy thing.
“You feel so good.” Inadequate words. She was wet silk and starlight, arching over him, away from him.
They wouldn’t finish like this, but he wanted her to feel the intense pleasure first. A few strokes and she was gasping. Pen set the pace, her movements jerky and mindless. She grew wetter, the slick sounds of their bodies so dirty and perfect. Her ass worked against his pelvis, muscles tensing and relaxing in concert with the pressure on his aching prick. An orgasm tingled at the base of his spine, building, building.
Hang on. Not yet.
She was almost there. Almost. And so was he.
“Touch yourself,” he growled in her ear. “Your breasts, your clit. C’mon, Pen. Feel this. Feel me.”
With a little sob, she did as he commanded. Hands on her own breasts, plucking at her nipples, and then lower, fingers furious between her thighs. Her movements quickened as he thrust, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, wanting her so close he could die of it.
It has to be now. Has to be.
Tru spun her just before she came a second time. In the movement, he almost slid out of her, only the tip of his cock lodged inside. Pen clawed his back for interrupting, her face a study in thwarted passion. He pulled her back down ever so slowly.
He bit her lower lip. “That’s it. Hurt me a little. I like it. I can take it.”
She dug her nails into his back, deeper, deeper, as she worked her pussy on his rigid shaft. Bigger. If anything, the pain made him harder. He swelled inside her because he’d made her this desperate.
“So hot. Wet. Tight. Mmm, Pen.
Pen
.”
Pen
.”
Tru lost all ties to logic. Her eyes widened, luminous and blue as midnight. He could live in them, swim in them. Breasts against his chest. He wanted to taste her nipples, suck on them for hours to see if he could get her off.
Yes.
And that cute little divot of a navel.
So pretty. So sexy.
His head whirled with her. Lips parted, pink and rosy. He kissed her to taste her gasps. They belonged to him, just as she did.
Yes.
And that cute little divot of a navel.
So pretty. So sexy.
His head whirled with her. Lips parted, pink and rosy. He kissed her to taste her gasps. They belonged to him, just as she did.
Beautiful woman. Mine.
He kissed her as she came, as
he
did, lips and teeth and tongues wild as she tensed in his arms, grinding, grinding, until her motions slowed with weary satiation. His balls tightened. The orgasm crashed over him like an avalanche, endless streams of pleasure that rocked him head to toe, and he fell into the primitive satisfaction of filling her.
he
did, lips and teeth and tongues wild as she tensed in his arms, grinding, grinding, until her motions slowed with weary satiation. His balls tightened. The orgasm crashed over him like an avalanche, endless streams of pleasure that rocked him head to toe, and he fell into the primitive satisfaction of filling her.
Not until afterward did he realize that he hadn’t pulled out. Tru didn’t mind—though maybe she would. She hadn’t promised permanence. Since he’d failed one family, she might not consider him partner material—and with good reason. With determination and effort, he quieted his doubts.
“So,” he whispered into her hair. “Was it good for you?”
TWENTY-FIVE
Pen couldn’t have answered with words if the future of the human race had been at stake. She mumbled something formless and pressed her forehead against Tru’s shoulder. Her bones had turned molten. The skin she’d worn her entire life felt too large, too heavy to carry. The sound of her heartbeat and ragged breathing blended with his soft murmurs.
Whatever she’d been, whoever she’d been—gone now. But the new woman might be strong enough to take her place.
She must have slept. Exhaustion and satisfaction conspired to steal hours. Warm hours spent with Tru, surrounded in the false peace of their little sanctuary. Eyes blinking open, she found only the darkness of gathering dusk. The warmth of her companion was gone.
The sharpest moment of panic receded when she saw Tru sitting just outside the entrance. His hunched shoulders, elbows draped over his knees, took up most of the view. Only slivers of fading light gleamed along the edges of his hair and the lines of his taut jaw. He looked to the east. That simple change of direction lifted a hopeful bubble in her gut. There was nothing to the east but the water and the island. Had Tru been peering westward with that same thoughtful intensity, she would’ve prepared herself for the worst.
Sitting up, she realized the source of her warmth. She was wrapped not in his arms, as she’d dreamed, but in . . . her cloak. It was filthy and had ripped along the hem, but it had not been lost to the ocean’s pull.
Although Pen barely stirred, that slight noise must’ve been enough to catch Tru’s amazing senses. He turned to watch as she crawled numbly out into the open, the cloak around her shoulders.
“Where did you find it?”
His slight smile flipped her heart. “About a kilometer from here. I went for a walk.”
“Oh?”
She didn’t want to press. Not in a way that would demand assurances. But knowing his intentions might make them easier to bear. Walking on his own, pacing, waiting for the right moment to go . . . she feared that outcome, even though he’d said he wouldn’t leave.
“Pen?”
“Hmm?”
“Come sit. Please.”
He scooted to the side on a giant hunk of driftwood, making room for her in front of the slight fire. More meat sizzled, the tangy scent dragging a fierce growl from her stomach. She settled beside him. Her inner thighs and stomach muscles ached in ways she’d never known. A little painful. But mostly in a way that made her smile privately.
With their shoulders and hips pressed side by side, they stared into the fire. Pen wondered when, if ever, she’d be able to breathe again. Nothing was so simple when her insides were consumed by this new need, by this unexpected infatuation. She tugged the cloak around herself, then thought better of it. She wrapped one end around Tru’s far shoulder. They tucked in together, surrounded by the smells of the sea.
“I spent those two weeks at the Children’s Mission, working mostly. I haven’t in a long time. Not for anything but survival anyway.” His mouth tightened into a firm line. “And even then, I don’t know how much I actually wanted to see the next morning.”
A lump had formed in Pen’s throat. She forced it down. “And now?”
“When I saw those kids in that truck last night, I knew I had to help. That can’t continue.” He faced her, their lips so close. “But I’d be lying if I said you aren’t the rest of my reason for sticking around.”
“Why? You fulfilled your promise. I didn’t ask anything else.”
“Did what we shared this morning feel like an obligation to you?”
“No.”
“Good. Because it wasn’t.”
She pushed snarled hair off her forehead. What she wouldn’t give for a bath, or clean water for a quick wash. Their intimacy made her uncomfortably aware of how she must appear to him, when such concerns hadn’t bothered her for years. In fact, their world didn’t reward looks. It was best to blend in. But for Tru, she wanted to be sexy.
“Then . . . why?”
“Damn, Penelope, it’s like we don’t even speak the same language.”
He stood up, letting in the ocean breeze. Pen stared into the fire and tried to pretend his words hadn’t hurt. Always one step off, the woman everyone respected—even feared or revered. But no one ever saw her as an ordinary person; that was the drawback to the legend.
For the best. She wasn’t ordinary.
“I can’t change who I am,” she whispered. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“I’m not asking you to change.” He paced the stretch of sand on the other side of the fire. A fine spray of grit caught the wind with each step. He was barefoot. Somehow, his naked feet struck her even more forcefully than his bare chest. “How can you be so optimistic about the whole damn world but not about yourself?”
“My magic, you mean.”
“Your
neck
, Pen.”
neck
, Pen.”
She drew her head back as if he’d just shouted. His words struck her that forcefully. “My . . . ?”
“I
adore
your neck. And your eyes. Do you know how long it’s been since I thought the word ‘indigo’? Maybe when I read it in a poem, years ago. But that’s the color you use to stare at me.”
adore
your neck. And your eyes. Do you know how long it’s been since I thought the word ‘indigo’? Maybe when I read it in a poem, years ago. But that’s the color you use to stare at me.”
Heat shivered up her spine, along the tops of her breasts and across her cheeks. Never. Not ever had she imagined such a treasure. So shocked, she said the first thing that came into her head. Pure instinct.
“Yours are like a clear piece of glass with the sky behind it.”
He grinned lazily. “Is that what you think? Well, feel free to continue.”
But Pen ducked her face away, embarrassed by the sudden impulse to tell him everything. How the long lines of his sculpted torso made her want to start their lovemaking all over again. How his deep, smooth voice narrated sexy fantasies in her daydreams. How the weight of his leg thrown over hers as they lay nestled together made her feel safe and protected.
Tru served up the meat on a flat stone he’d washed clean. “I see it, you know.”
She stopped midmotion, a piece of pork halfway to her mouth. “What?”
“What you think. What you really want me to see.” He tapped one temple. “You show me, loud and clear.”
“Is that how you knew this morning? How to . . . ?”
He returned to the driftwood, kneeling this time. “How to touch you? Yes.” A crooked grin shaped his lush mouth. “I’m good, but not
that
good.”
that
good.”
“Last night, out in the water, I found Zhara with my thoughts and told her to go. I wonder if she heard.” Pen shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been sending out signals all along, but never strong enough to know for sure.”
“Too many people bowing to you, not enough arguing.”
She jerked her knee out from under his palm but couldn’t help a laugh. “They don’t bow!”
“Queen Penelope.”
It was an easy move to drop to both knees, where he pantomimed a subject bowing before royalty. But rather than continue the joke, he tugged her down on the sand with him. She laughed again. The darkness closed over them while Tru settled his body along hers. The fire snapped a gentle song.
“I’m being candid now,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I’m here because I enjoy you. Now you say it back and we can stop.” He found her ear, his voice a low purr. “Because I don’t want to talk anymore.”
Pen shivered. The heat she’d felt that morning rekindled in an instant, his words burrowing straight to her primal core. Greed. Lust. Safety. All of it tied up in Tru and how he made her burn.
“I’m with you because I enjoy being with you.”
They made love on the beach as the stars came out. Pen saw them overhead, blazing through a clear evening sky, as Tru entered her again. Then more stars when she closed her eyes. Nothing but feeling. It was easier this time. Easier to turn off her mind and simply bask in his attention. Such a gift, one no man had ever thought to give her.
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