Rode Hard, Put Up Wet (39 page)

Stay focused, Cait.

She knew this man. He liked the game—liked the hunt. But he had a little surprise coming.

She wasn’t the prey—he was.

When she snagged the bad boy, she had plans to hold onto him, no matter what her father said. Who was he to determine Cord wasn’t good enough just because he didn’t offer anything to the family but cattle?

For Christsake, she was a woman and she’d damn well make her own choices.

Cord speared his fingers through her hair, jerking her to him, chest to chest, hips to hips. His lips were a breath away from hers, tempting—teasing.

Just another ploy to see if she’d close the gap between them—kiss him first—then he’d know he won.

Ain’t gonna happen
.

“Something you want, Cord?” When she spoke her mouth brushed across his. It was pure hell not to take what she wanted, especially with his trimmed goatee and mustache tickling and tantalizing her lips.

His eyes darkened, his voice lowered. “You, darlin’.”

This was the opening she’d been waiting for—it was her move.

Cait’s gaze peeled away from his as she smoothed her cheek along his. She felt the catch in his breathing as she brought her lips to his ear and blew lightly, before inhaling the rich scent of sandalwood.

“I want you too.” She coaxed her tone to be soft, husky. “I’ve always wanted you.”

If you only knew how much
.

He tried to snake his arms around her, but she was quick in pressing her palm against his chest, holding him at bay. Slowly, she curled her fingernails so they bit into him.

His seductive mouth parted, drawing her attention.

God, how she wanted to taste him, knowing if she did there would be a power exchange and she would be lost. “
Uh-uh-uh
. Let’s play first. You like to play games, don’t you, Cord?”

“Darlin’, right now I’d do anything you ask.” He shifted his hips. “See what you do to me.” He removed her hand from his chest, guiding it to his rock-hard groin.

Sinfully, he thrust his cock against her palm, working her hand up and down.

His intimate contact was more than she could have hoped for. The tightening of her grip rewarded her with deep growls that rumbled from his chest. The veins in his neck bulged. He leaned further into her touch and closed his eyes.

What next?

Her gaze darted around the barn. On a bench lay several strips of leather. Someone had been repairing a bridle. She released him and stepped away.

His heavy eyelids rose, his brow furrowing. “Where are you going?”

She gave him the most big-eyed, innocent expression she could muster. “I’m going to tie you up. That’s what you like, isn’t it?”

Cord’s rich laughter caressed her. “Darlin’, you’ve got that backward.”

Her bottom lip protruded into a little pout. “Don’t you want to play with me?”

He moved fast, his arm circling her waist, bringing her tight against his body. “Oh, yeah. I want to play with you.”

She could live forever staring into his aqua eyes, more green than blue. But if she were too eager she’d be just another notch on his belt. She wanted more than that—much more.

The bad boy was going down.

Taking a ride on the wild side is a dangerous proposition
Running With The Devil

© 2007 Lorelei James

Now available in print and ebook

Drug dealer? Hooker? Blackmailer? Kenna Jones was the last person to have contact with a murdered federal informant and DEA Agent Drake March goes undercover during the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally to find out just what her relationship to the dead man was.

One problem—from the moment Drake encounters the gorgeous, hot-tempered chameleon—he doesn’t trust her—or his immediate attraction to her.

Kenna’s situation can’t get worse. Posing as arm candy for rich bikers is a humiliating way to earn tuition. But the financially strapped grad student has no choice.

And it appears too-sexy for his badge Agent Drake March isn’t giving her a choice either.

He threatens to have her arrested if she refuses to cooperate in his investigation.

But bullets fly and Kenna’s life is in danger from an unknown threat. Drake’s protective instincts kick in when he realizes sweet Kenna is innocent—and in far over her head.

Lust, fear and desire make for a volatile combination in the hedonistic atmosphere, leading Drake and Kenna into taking a dangerous ride on the wild side—with explosive results.

With their lives at stake, will they learn to trust each other before it’s too late? Or will the devil come calling and finally get his due?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Running With The Devil:
Drake braced himself against the wall while he toed off his boots. Wallet, leather pouch and keys landed on the bed.

Kenna dropped her duffle by the door and flopped on the bed closest to the window.

She yawned and flipped back the covers. “I’m wiped.”

“Aren’t you changing into pajamas?” Visions of sexy nightgowns teased him; a frilly baby doll barely covering her gorgeous ass. A black silk nightie highlighting her

dangerous curves. Or his personal favorite: nothing but fire flashing in her eyes and a

“do-me-big-daddy” smile.

“No. I don’t wear paj—”

“Even better. That way I know you won’t be sneaking out.”

She propped herself on her elbow and scowled at him. “Here’s where you threaten to tie me to the bed.”

Drake grinned. “Only if you ask me real nice.” He yanked his T-shirt over his head and pitched it toward the chair.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

The barb didn’t hold any sting when Drake noticed her eyes were glued to his chest.

Hmm. No matter what her smart mouth said, her body didn’t lie. Seemed
she
was the one having a hard time catching her breath.

He stretched, flexing the muscles in his biceps and contracting his abs. At the stunned, hungry look on her face he decided the hours spent in the gym were well worth it.

“What are you doing?” she croaked.

“Getting ready for bed.”

Drake sighed, dropping his hands to his waistband. His fingers fiddled with the top button.

Then he unbuckled his belt.

Her gaze zoomed to his fly as he oh-so-slowly lowered the zipper. Damn if his cock didn’t appreciate her rapt attention and offer an enthusiastic, hopeful salute.

She swallowed hard as he began to slide the jeans down his hips, inching them over his muscular thighs and past his knees.

“Enjoying the show?”

“God, yes,” she responded eagerly before she caught herself. A faint blush stole across her cheeks, highlighting her freckles. She abruptly turned on her side.

Drake shucked his jeans completely off and stood there, feeling like an idiot with a hard-on pressing out of the top of his black boxers. “What? No goodnight kiss?”

“You can kiss my ass,” she retorted.

“Careful, hot stuff. I might consider that an invitation.”

“Go to sleep, perv. On your own side of the room in your own bed.”

He laughed softly. “Goodnight, Kenna. Sweet dreams.”

Kenna slowed her breathing, pretending to be asleep. Drake would probably start snoring any minute. Wouldn’t that blow her fantasy of him straight to hell?

Oh yeah, he was man enough to fill a hundred fantasies.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was no use. Her brain insisted on reliving his sexy, impromptu strip tease. Over and over again until she’d memorized every damn detail.

His body boggled her mind. Long, lean and hard, muscled in all the right places—he definitely looked long and hard where it counted. Sweat beaded on her brow thinking about touching and tasting that tanned golden skin and corded muscles. Sifting her fingers through his unruly black hair. Taking his big cock in her hands. In her body. In her mouth. She suppressed a moan, but her body launched a rush of moisture south anyway.

Hell. She’d never get to sleep now.

A deep masculine grunt. Followed by a heavy sigh. The bed squeaked and the polyester covers rustled as he rolled over.

She stared at the warped pine paneling surrounding the window, then at the brownish water spots on the ceiling. Think of something not sexy.

Rocks. She smiled to herself and began to recite the geological periods. In order. By the time she reached the Paleolithic age, she’d relaxed enough to drift off.

Her sultry voice drifted to him in the dark.

“You asleep?”

Drake went absolutely still beneath the thin sheet.

She laughed softly. “I know you’re awake, Agent March. I’ve heard you tossing and turning.”

He sighed. No use pretending.

“Tell me something.”

“What?”

“Is it hard to sleep with an erection?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you had a pretty impressive hard-on before you crawled in bed. I imagine you’re still hard as a rock, aren’t you?

“Kenna—”

“Can’t be comfortable with that big thing poking you in the stomach. And I doubt you want to touch yourself with me in the room.”

“Why—”

“Although you could sneak in the bathroom and jack off in the shower and I’d never know.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” The bedspread crinkled as she shifted on the mattress. “Every time you get in the shower, I’ll think that’s what you’re really doing. Slicking your hands up with soap. Sliding up and down your shaft.” She paused. “Who do you think about when you’re stroking yourself?”

He didn’t answer.

“An old girlfriend? A famous actress? Or a model? Think any of them know how to give a decent hand job?”

His heart started to pound. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to know what you’d do if I wasn’t here.”

Jack off in the shower. Thinking of you the entire time.

“You really think I’ll answer that?” She might talk tough but he doubted she could handle his answer.

“No. But since I am here I can give you the relief you’re dying for.”

He must have misunderstood her. He was so focused on how the fringed curtains stirred whenever the air conditioner kicked on that he didn’t realize she’d moved until she’d slid beneath the sheets next to him.

“Kenna. I don’t think—”

“Ssh. Don’t think. Let me do this.”

Her bare breasts were pressed on either side of his spine and her nipples were stiffened to hard points. When had she gotten naked? She plastered herself against him and he felt the curls covering her sex grinding into his ass. He groaned. His body was so hot it felt feverish. And the coolness of her silky skin against the heat of his nearly made him come right then.

She indulged in teasing nips along his shoulder until her naughty mouth connected with the curve of his neck. Her tongue flicked the fine hairs at the base of his skull.

Sweet, warm breath drifted across his skin.

Drake shivered.

“Do you want me to stop?” Her delicate fingertips drew an idle path from his hip, up the ticklish bend in his waist to trace his pectoral. Circled his nipple. Trailed back down.

While driving him insane with fleeting caresses on his overheated skin, she writhed against his back. Did the thought of him exploding in her hand make her hot?

“Drake? What’s it gonna be?”

“Don’t stop.”

“Mmm,” she hummed against his shoulder blade. “I like the way you smell.” She walked her fingers over the edge of his hipbone to his groin. No tentative touches. Kenna wrapped her hand around his rigid cock and pumped from root to tip. “I like the way you feel.”

He arched his hardness into her soft hand.

“Do you want me to tease you? Make it last longer?” Those wayward fingertips delved into the hair covering his sac. She rolled his balls between her fingers and used her thumb to stroke the pulsing vein running up the length. Then she circled the base of his cock with her forefinger and thumb and squeezed. “Well?”

“No. Don’t tease.”

Her breath cascaded over the sweat gathering on his spine. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kenna slid her hand back up, tightly curled her fingers around his thickness and began to work him.

Pure unadulterated pleasure flooded his brain. “Ah. Jesus that feels so fucking good.”

She kissed the spot below his ear. “Imagine how good it’ll feel when it’s my wet mouth on you instead of my hand.”

“You really want to make me come fast, don’t you?”

A confident feminine laugh. Then she started a blissfully brisk rhythm that made him groan and thrust higher to meet her masterful strokes.

Twisting up to the tip. Down to the root. Over and over. No change in the pace. Her touches were oddly familiar. Kenna seemed to know exactly what he liked. How hard she could pull on his dick without making it painful. How much he craved the pad of her thumb circling the plump head with each upstroke. Each tug brought him closer to the

edge. He held his breath. Clenched his ass cheeks, bumping his hips and closed his eyes, readying himself to burst in her hand.

God. It was right there. That ultimate rush of relief…

Then she started snoring.

He froze. His cock twitched at the sudden loss of friction. What the hell? How could she fall asleep at a time like this? When he was so goddamned close?

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