Riding Out the Storm (3 page)

Zach
opened his bag, pulled out two shirts, then shrugged out of his coat and opened
his shirt. Jill couldn’t help admiring the play of muscles in his arms and
chest as he shrugged out of the shirt and pulled on a thermal shirt, then a
sweatshirt. She’d clung to those shoulders many nights. But she wanted more
than he’d been willing to give her, and she was ready to move on, hopefully to
a real relationship with Ethan.

“What
are you doing?” she asked when Zach slipped his coat back on.

“Dressing
warm. I’m going to see about finding us some food.”

Jill
glanced toward the window, though she couldn’t see out. They had the drapes
drawn to keep the warmth in, but the wind whistled against the glass. “That’s
ridiculous. You won’t be able to drive and walking in this would be stupid.”

“I’m
starving. I’m sure the two of you are hungry. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re
from Texas,” Jill pointed out. “You don’t know what snow is.”

“I’ll.
Be. Fine.” He dragged on his gloves, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and
pulled his knit hat down over his ears. “I’ll be gone a half hour, maybe
longer.” He kissed her cheek and winked, his message clear, then opened the
door and slipped out, letting in a small drift of snow and a blast of cold air.
Jill heard him shout, “Son of a bitch!” as he passed the window.

Jill
looked back at Ethan, perched on the bed by the heater, to see his jaw tight in
concern. “He’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah,
sure, of course.” He pushed to his feet and slid his hands down the thighs of
his slacks.

“This
weekend is not going as planned,” she muttered, her head down as she stepped
toward the bathroom.

He
caught her arm, his fingers warm through the sleeve of her suit jacket, and
turned her to him.

“He
said he’d be gone half an hour, maybe more. He was sending us a message, giving
us privacy.”

“Half
an hour?” She met his brown eyes and felt a flutter in her belly. “That’s no
time at all.”

“The
way I feel right now, it’s very generous.” The corner of his mouth hitched up.

Before
she could catch her breath, his mouth was over hers, his kiss commanding,
demanding, his tongue teasing, then stroking. She went along for the ride a
moment before mounting a counter-attack, sliding her tongue into his mouth,
hungry for the taste of him.

She
was so enthralled by her exploration that she barely noticed his roaming hands
had loosened her suit jacket, and then his warm hands were on her bare waist.
Lightly callused fingers stroked her sensitive skin, thumbs brushing her ribs
beneath her breasts. She wanted his hands on her breasts, wanted his mouth on
them. She arched her hips against his jutting erection, but they didn’t measure
up quite right.

Without
missing a beat, he lifted her onto the low dresser, the move effortless, and
stepped between her legs. His cock pressed against the crotch of her pants. She
sucked in a breath when he closed his hands over her hips and pulled her
forward, pumping his hips gently against hers.

Her
clit was so swollen, the lace of her thong rasped the sensitive flesh. The head
of his shaft, even through his slacks, lined up against her slit. Her choked
breath must have warned him she was on the very edge, because he stepped back.
Her whole body shuddered with disappointment and she grasped at the shoulders
of his shirt.

He
reached between them to find the zipper of her pants. He tugged. Cool air
touched her skin as he glided them down her legs. His breath caught at the
sight of her thong, and he lifted gleaming eyes to hers.

“Sexy
as hell.”

He
stepped between her legs again to kiss her, his mouth hungry, impatient, as he
closed his hands over her ass, bringing her flush against him, holding her
thighs spread. But she didn’t want another dry-hump, as sexy as the one in the
supply room had been.

“Thirty
minutes go by fast,” she reminded him, her voice throatier than she intended.

His
eyes glinted with purpose and he hooked his fingers in the sides of her thong
to drag it down her legs. Then he pressed her thighs apart and went down on his
knees.

“Christ,
you weren’t kidding about being bare. This shouldn’t turn me on so much.”
Wonder filled his voice as he gazed at her naked pussy, his fingers stroking
the insides of her thighs, the rough tips on her soft skin sending spirals of
lust through her blood. She already hung on the edge by her fingernails. At
this point, he could make her come by breathing on her. The way he stared at
her cunt only aroused her more. She braced her hands behind her on the dresser
to resist dragging his head forward and pressing his mouth to her.

“Um,
yeah. Does it turn you on?”

“Everything
about you turns me on.”

He
eased back, looking into her eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his
muscular chest with a light covering of chest hair, his flat stomach with that
intriguing line traveling south from his navel. Her gaze was riveted as his big
hands unbuckled his belt. She had a sudden and unexpected urge to feel the
leather around her wrists, binding her beneath him. What would he do if she
told him that? Would it turn him on or make him run?

Instead
of telling him, she watched him drape it over the back of the chair before
unfastening his pants. Her breath came faster in anticipation as he slowed his
movements, no doubt to tease her. Then he shoved his boxer briefs and slacks
down together, stepping out of them, peeling off his socks before straightening
and giving her the full effect of his jutting cock, big and beautiful, arched
up slightly, making her itch to get her hands on it, her mouth on it, to feel
him part her.

“Condom,”
she managed, and he bent to fish one out of his pocket. He sheathed himself in
a few economic moves that made her light-headed nonetheless.

“You
trust me?” he asked, kicking his pants out of the way and taking her hand.

She
nodded, so wild to feel him inside her she couldn’t think.

He
helped her off the dresser and guided her to the wall by the heater. “Put your
arms around my shoulders.”

No
hardship there. His shoulders were one of his best features, square and broad.
He lifted her, pressing her back to the wall, his hands strong on her ribs. Her
legs parted automatically around him and his dick rubbed against her wet slit.
She clenched her teeth to hold back the whimper. God, it had been so long, she
was going to go off like a rocket.

His
own breath was ragged as he leaned his head back enough to look into her eyes
as he slid into her in one smooth move, surprising a moan from her as the broad
head of his cock stretched her, so much better than any vibrator, his groin
pressed against her bare cunt. He seated himself fully inside her and sighed,
pushing her hair back from her face. He rested his forehead against the wall
beside her head, his hands cupping her ass, the hair of his groin rasping her
sensitive cleft, her channel stretched and pulsing with pleasure.

“God,
you feel even more amazing than I dreamed,” he murmured. “And I dreamed about
this a lot.”

She
tightened her thighs about his lean hips, her palms coasting over his muscular
sides—who knew he was so ripped?—and nuzzled her face against his shoulder.
Nothing had ever felt so good, but she didn’t say it, couldn’t say it, only
wanted movement, so she pressed her feet to the backs of his thighs to
encourage him.

He
got the message and began to drive into her, each stroke pushing her legs wider
apart. The head of his cock stroked against a sensitive spot deep inside. She
moved into his thrusts, wanting the friction, the stretch, the slide. He bent
his head and rasped his lips along the line of her throat, nuzzling the
underside of her jaw. She turned her head and saw their reflection in the
mirror. She caught her breath as she watched the muscles of his back and ass
flex, his arms bunch as he fucked her.

“God,
Ethan, look. The mirror.”

She
met his gaze in their reflection, felt the disconnect of watching their movements
and experiencing the sensation. He pulled out. She clutched at his shoulders as
he lowered her legs to the ground. Before she could ask what was wrong, he spun
her around and bent her over the dresser.

He
guided his cock into her as she watched in the mirror, the sexiest thing she’d
ever seen. She gasped at the depth and dropped her head to her hands as he
plowed into her, his hands on her hips, then sliding up to her breasts. He
plucked her nipples, sending another pulse of pleasure to her pussy.

She
wanted his mouth on her, suckling her, but he’d found a rhythm that rubbed
against everything good, and she pressed her hips back to exploit the
sensation. She lifted her head to see him pumping into her, the drag and push
heightening her senses, each thrust tightening her body as the pleasure built,
wrapping around her until she couldn’t breathe.

Then
the orgasm broke over her, sending frissons of fire along her nerve endings,
weakening her knees. She watched herself come, for just a moment before the
sensation swallowed her, tumbled her. Her channel squeezed around him, and his
hands tightened on her waist, he thrust deeply into her, his movements shallow.
He groaned, a low, delicious sound as he came in pulses she felt deep inside
her, his gaze holding hers in the mirror for a moment before he shut his eyes
and bent over her, pressing soft kisses to the back of her neck.

“Are
you all right?” he asked, sliding out of her, leaving her body weeping.

“Mm.
Don’t think I can move.” She kept her head on her arms on the dresser.

“Come
on.” He discarded the condom, then scooped her up into his arms, cradling her
against his broad chest as if she weighed no more than a child, and carried her
to the bed. She felt his heart pounding as he laid her on the mattress and stretched
out beside her, scooping her hair back from her face before he covered her
mouth with his.

This
kiss was so different, gentle, and sweet despite his sweeping tongue. He slid
his hand down her arm to rest on her waist, his thumb brushing circles on her
skin. She giggled when he discovered a ticklish spot.

“Get
under the blanket,” he murmured.

She
shifted, and he followed her, curving his body around hers, warming her. She
glided her palms over his chest—so much she had imagined doing to him that she hadn’t
gotten the chance. And they were almost out of time. How could making love to
him, very satisfactorily, only make her hungry for more?

Chapter
Three

“Christ,
it smells like sex in here,” Zach remarked, grabbing the door before it flew
back to hit the wall. “I hope y’all made good use of your time.”

Ethan
glanced over to see flush creep along Jill’s skin as she turned off the
television. She’d pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans just moments before and was
trying for casual, but clearly Zach wouldn’t allow that.

“Anyway,
wash up, kiddies, Daddy brought dinner.” He dropped a bag onto the tiny round
table by the window and stripped of his hat and gloves. “Fries are probably
frozen by now but I brought dessert.”

He
turned toward the table. “I also procured a bottle of wine from the manager,
for a small fortune. Do you know they only sell alcohol in liquor stores here?
How the hell do they keep warm?”

“Where’d
you get the food?” Jill approached the table as Ethan unpacked the sandwiches
and fries.

“There’s
a diner just on the other side of the motel. Pretty crowded, too. I guess a lot
of people are stranded here.”

“Thanks
for doing this,” Ethan said, waiting until Jill sat in the chair before taking
a seat on the heater. Not since college had he had to deal with another man
knowing the intimacies of his sex life, and he’d forgotten how to deal.

“Yeah,
my pleasure. Was it worth it?” he asked Jill.

“So
worth it.” She popped a fry in her mouth and winked at Ethan, clearly dealing
with Zach’s openness better than he was. “Open the wine. There are cups by the
sink.”

Dinner
was cold but satisfying. The wine, a cheap merlot, mellowed him from the
tension in the room, and from the desire to have Zach leave again so he could
make love to Jill, this time taking it slow, savoring every inch of her smooth
skin. The sex had been amazing, even accounting for the anticipation. Now,
watching her, smelling her on his skin—he was getting hard again. Damn it, why
couldn’t Zach have gotten his own room?

After
dinner was cleaned up, Zach turned on the TV. The satellite dish was out, so
they received three fuzzy channels, all talking about the late spring blizzard
and predicting more snow on the way. Ethan fired up his laptop, hoping for
something to take his mind off Jill and what he wanted to do to her.

“So
we’re stuck here.” Zach turned down the sound and sat on his bed with a bounce.
He looked at Ethan. “You getting Internet?”