Dirty Little Lies: A Men of Summer Novel (19 page)

She was shaking, so eager to feel his lips there that it was all she could do to keep from screaming with the agonizing hunger for it.

“You wouldn’t let anyone?” Low, vibrating with lust, the question whispered around her. “Why wouldn’t you let anyone?” Callused hands parted her thighs further, pushing them wide just before she felt the first touch of his fingers against the bare, saturated folds of her sex.

“Why, Grace?” he questioned again. “Why wouldn’t you let anyone eat this sweet, pretty pussy?”

“I thought of you…” she panted, shudders of pleasure tearing through her. “I kept thinking of you—”

Her hands slapped to the bed.

Her fingers curled into the blankets, and a cry of agonizing need whispering past her as lips suddenly surrounded her clit, drawing on it with hungry demand and burning through any resistance that might have remained.

There was no thought of resisting him, though. No will to do so.

Nothing existed for Grace but this. Nothing else mattered.

Her fingers moved of their own volition, stroking and tugging at her nipples, creating rapid-fire blasts of pleasure-pain to add to the stimulation of her already violently sensitive clit.

Just when she thought she’d explode, when she was certain the tight, hungry draws of his mouth would throw her completely into orgasm, it was gone.

She couldn’t protest, couldn’t demand more.

His tongue slid through the heavy layers of slick moisture to burrow between the swollen folds. He rimmed the entrance, licking at her with hungry strokes and short, teasing dips into the clenched tissue of her vagina while his hands cupped her buttocks, lifting her to his mouth and giving himself greater access.

“Tell me!” he snapped, momentarily halting the assault against her senses. “Tell me how it feels. What you want. Tell me or by God, I swear I’ll stop.…”

*   *   *

Zack was tortured. The dark excess of need whipped through him, breaking free of the bonds that normally controlled it. The hungers he’d always tried to keep reined in spilled through him and focused on the too delicate, far too innocent young woman he’d sworn to himself he’d never release them on.

Lowering his head once again, he let his tongue take the swollen flesh, licking through the plump folds and the sweetest feminine cream he’d ever tasted. It spilled from her pussy like nectar, slick and hot. His cock throbbed between his thighs, the taste of her swelling the already hard flesh.

“More,” she finally cried out in response to his demand. “More with your tongue … fuck me, Zack … with your tongue … please…”

Her hips arched, and he lifted her and sent his tongue thrusting inside the clenched, rippling entrance, the taste of her inner juices drugging his senses. She was tight, hot. Her inner flesh tugged at each licking thrust as her cries of pleasure spurred the brutal hunger ripping through him.

“Yes…” she hissed as he drew his tongue back and began working two fingers inside the clenched sheath, groaning at the snug grip surrounding them.

Licking, tasting her, Zack moved back to the swollen bud of her clit, feeling it throb beneath his tongue as he surrounded the responsive bundle of flesh with his lips and drew it into his mouth once again.

She was coming apart beneath his touch. He could feel her beginning to unravel, feel the tension growing inside her, perspiration building on her flesh as she arched into each rapid thrust of his fingers into her pussy.

Too tight.

Ah fuck, she was so tight. And his cock had never been thicker, never been harder than it was right now.

Never in his life had Zack been so primed and ready to fuck or so aware of the fact that the flesh he would be fucking into was so damned tight.

Not yet, he ordered himself, his tongue stroking the rapid throb of her clit, feeling it pulse and tighten as she grew closer to orgasm. Let her come first, let her body adjust. Sweet God, let him get a handle on the hunger tearing his senses apart.

“So good,” Grace cried out as he added another finger to the first two pushing inside her. “Zack.” Her hips arched, aching need filling the whimpering cry. “More. Oh yes, more … It’s so good. So good, Zack…”

Ah hell, he was losing it. He could feel it.

Control was sinking beneath pure lust-crazed pleasure as her pussy rippled around his thrusting fingers and her clit pulsed against his tongue. And in that second, a low, agonized cry tore from her lips as he felt her orgasm slam through her.

Her hips flexed in rapid little thrusts against his pumping fingers as her vagina clamped down and the heated wash of her release slickened the inner flesh further.

Pulling his hand back, he released her clit from the suction of his mouth and rose between her thighs, the fingers of one hand gripping the base of his erection in a desperate grip.

“Look at me,” he growled, lust becoming a frenzy of need as he fought to hold back just enough to keep from hurting her. “Watch me, Grace. Watch me fuck that pretty pussy.”

Dazed, heavy-lidded, her gaze fell between her spread thighs, and then her eyes widened at the sight of the thick crest parting the glistening folds.

“Are you sure?” Some inner demon had to open its mouth and voice that question. “Be sure, Grace. Once I start burying my dick inside you, it’s going to be too late to say no.”

Fiery, slick, her juices spilled over the engorged crest, the lash of sensation overriding the last fragile thread he was holding on to reality with. His hips jerked, the flared head of his cock surging inside her, parting her, and rocking his senses with the heat and brutal pleasure that suddenly surrounded the too-sensitive crest.

*   *   *

Grace couldn’t breathe.

The sudden explosion of pleasure-pain tearing through her senses stole her ability to draw in air, to think, or to reason. Her neck arched, eyes closing as sensation overwhelmed her, drawing her muscles tight as spirals of ecstasy began racing through her body.

Her sexual experience was limited, her ability to process such an overload of pleasure nonexistent. Each push and retreat of the thick flesh invading her was like a lash of burning ecstasy. Each thrust took him deeper, stretched her further, and stole more of her mind. Nothing mattered but taking more of him, taking him deeper and experiencing more of the destructive power building inside her.

“Fuck, Grace,” he groaned, his lips lowering to her ear as she fought to breathe, to survive the sensations overtaking her. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. So sweet and hot…”

Her body responded to the added pleasure of the harsh declaration by spilling more of the slick moisture as he pushed deeper inside her. Each forging thrust stretched her inner flesh, sent those rapid-fire shots of fiery sensation to tighten further through her body as the brilliant pleasure-pain built with each hard stroke.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, nipping her ear. “Tighten on me. Milk my cock just like that, Grace. Fuck, you’re killing me.”

He was killing her. He was destroying her with the building rapture.

Each stroke inside her too-sensitive inner flesh, each stretching, painfully intense thrust seared her senses, until with one heavy, powerful lunge, he was buried to the hilt, the rapid pulse and throb of the engorged crest vibrating in the very depths of her.

Grace shook in the grip of the pleasure tearing through her now. She was stretched so tight around him that pleasure and pain mixed and mingled until she didn’t know which was which. She didn’t care. She just wanted more.

And Zack was more than willing to give her more.

As if finally burying his full length inside her loosened some restraint he’d imposed on himself, a strangled groan rumbled from his chest as he pulled back, pausing as the head of his cock slid partially free of her, then thrusting hard and deep inside her again.

Her breath caught again, the storm whipping through her nearly violent in its intensity. Her entire body was sensitized now, the tension deepening with each thrust and tearing her further from herself and into ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby.” He pushed faster, harder inside her. The sound of flesh moving against flesh and his voice becoming deeper, darker were all she knew as she felt herself unraveling.

“Zack…” Her hands gripped his shoulders, fighting to find some hold on reality causing her nails to dig into his flesh.

“That’s it, baby, let me have you,” he groaned, the pace of his thrusts speeding up. “Let me have you, Grace. Come for me, baby. Ah, fuck … come for me, Grace … Now.”

Now.

The firestorm building inside her exploded. White-hot, blinding, her hips jerked into his, taking his cock deeper, harder, a fiery pulse of heat echoing in the depths of her vagina. She was lost in the violent eruptions of ecstasy detonating through her senses.

Shudders raced over her, through her.

She was jerked into a place of such rapture, of sensations that were both pleasure and pain, hot and cold. They merged, blended, until Grace could do nothing but hold on to Zack and let the storm rage through her.

*   *   *

As Zack fought to catch his breath, to pull his senses back from the savage pleasure filling him, he knew he’d made a grave error where Grace and his response to her were concerned. He should have known that years of hunger, of unrelenting need for one woman could be destructive. He should just have fucked her years ago rather than remaining at the periphery of her life, hungering for her like an animal that had never known warmth or caring while she represented the last hope for it.

Even now, letting her go, moving away from her, took an amount of effort he didn’t think he’d manage to conjure up. The fact that he was able to lift himself from her and ease his still sensitive flesh from the grip she had on it amazed him.

Rolling to her side, he was preparing to lift himself from the bed when she slid easily against his side and snuggled in, a little shiver racing over her. Automatically, Zack tugged the comforter over her and held her to him, frowning at the gesture. It wasn’t like him to let a woman cuddle after sex. It made them get strange ideas. Ideas that they could stay, that more than sex might hold them together.

With any other woman, he would already have been out of the bed and in the shower, cheerfully easing himself out of his lover’s home. Because he had never, at any time, fucked a woman in his own bed.

The guest room, a few times, though not often. He much preferred their beds, because escape was easier and less messy. So what the hell was he doing lying here with his arm wrapped securely around Grace and allowing her to slip deeper into sleep?

Going crazy was what he was doing, he admitted. Because holding her to him and allowing her to sleep against him weren’t his first mistake. They weren’t even the worst mistake. Hell no, he’d committed a far graver error by allowing himself to slip inside the fist-tight grip of her sex without a condom. Then he’d compounded that error with each violent eruption of his semen inside her.

He stared up at the ceiling with a frown. And he wasn’t even shaking in fear or going through any of the other responses he would have expected when doing something so insane.

He’d never spilled himself inside a woman. Never had he taken the chance that an innocent life could pay for his sins. Until now.

Until Grace.

The fact that he was complicating his life no longer escaped his notice, no more than he’d missed the fact that he’d made sure they landed in his bed rather than in the guest room.

The fact that it took so long for the act to register only elicited a resigned sigh.

He’d search for his sanity after Grace woke. Until then, he could probably use a nap himself. Keeping up with Grace while keeping her safe wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t going to be comfortable. And keeping the emotional aspects of it out of the mix wouldn’t be easy at all.

It was Grace, after all.

She was nothing if not emotional, it seemed.

She inspired emotion, even in him. Emotion he was definitely going to have to guard against.

No matter the consequences.

chapter fourteen

He was dressed when she awoke.

Like a cat burglar.

Black pants, shirt, and boots. Leaning against the wall, with the low light on the bed table casting long, sinister shadows around him as he stared at her silently. The expression on his face was pensive in the low light—brooding, perhaps.

“Well, I’m going to guess the postcoital bliss has passed,” she stated, sitting up in the bed and staring around the darkened bedroom.

The fact that she was still naked, not quite awake nor entirely focused, wasn’t lost on her.

But he was entirely too focused now. And that wasn’t a good sign.

“Something’s come up—I have to leave the house for a while.”

Something came up, huh? More like someone was desperate to run.

“Then go.” She waved him to the door. “Why wait until I woke?”

“Que and Garret will be in the house, along with two Brigham agents, Calli and Lobo. You’ll be safe until I get back.” And his expression never changed.

Sawyer had warned her not to love Zack. He should have warned her years ago.

“Fine. Why are you waiting, then? Just leave already.” So she could cry or rage or shower or something. So she’d be alone to process this emotional roller coaster.

Instead, he was just standing there.

“What, Zack?” she demanded, keeping her voice low. “What are you waiting for?”

“I forgot to wear a condom,” he told her, the unemotional tone of his voice giving little clue to how he might feel about it.

She was guessing he wasn’t pleased by that tidbit of information. And she’d be damned if she knew what to feel about it herself.

“I see.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I gather that doesn’t happen often?”

She should have guessed, she told herself. It was okay to fuck a Maddox, but the risk of a lifetime connection to one was quite another story. Especially a connection involving a child.

“First time,” he admitted, sliding his hands into the black slacks he wore, his gaze revealing little.