See Dick Run (7 page)

He took a deep breath and leaned back to rest on his calves. “Moira?”

“Hmm?”

“Baby girl, you’re not dreaming.”

“I know that.” She raised her head to look over her shoulder. A slow sexy smile, filled with promise, curved her lips.

“What are you up to now?” He bent, easing his hands under her shirt and pushing up as he slid his hands north.

“I’ve had some time to think.” Her answer was breathless.

“And?” Kever started at her hip and started to trace the dark swirls of her tattoo with his tongue.

“Let’s just say I had a change of heart and leave it at that.”

He stopped listening, sliding his tongue along her skin. The shudder that rippled through her body threw him off course and he quickly righted himself, continuing his upward momentum. He ran his hands along her arms, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against his callous palms. She turned her head into the fluff beneath her head and whimpered. He covered the backs of her hands with his and twined his fingers between hers. Rubbing his nose on her shoulder, he took the smell of her skin deep into his lungs, holding onto its sweetness for a moment before exhaling. “You are an addiction,” Kever lamented against her neck.

Moira turned her head and met his gaze. He saw desire in the chocolate swirls of her irises. She licked her lips and his cock throbbed. They laid there staring at each other, lost in the moment. She pulled his arms up against her and held them around her. “What do you want from me, Kever?”

“Right now…right now I just want to hear you scream.” He nipped her ear.

The gentle rocking of the house lulled him. He wanted to take his time and drive her past the point of passion. His motivation was simple; he wanted her to crave him as bad as he wanted her. He nibbled on her skin, placing open mouth kisses along her throat. He yanked his hands to free them from her grip and rose up on his knees and eased the zipper down on his jeans to give himself relief.

She flipped over and bent a leg at the knee. “Try and make me, lover.”

He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his lips and hoped he didn’t look too predatory. She shifted to turn his way and smirked. Kever leaned forward, rolled her shirt farther up her torso and taking the bunched material in his hands yanked the clothing over her head. He dipped his head and sucked a turgid nub into his mouth, swiping his tongue over it. He felt her fingers slide over his scalp and her grip tightened when he trailed his finger south slipping them under the elastic of her panties. With a quick yank he snapped the thin band. Cupping her mons with his hand, he slid his middle finger along her slit and dipped into her slick heat. She rubbed her head against the bed, stretching her neck. The tendons in her throat strained as he traced her damp folds. Using the pad of his thumb, he circled her clit, teasing her. He released her nipple with a wet
pop
when she fell onto the mattress. Undeterred, he pounced on her other breast, licking her areola.

He slid a finger into her channel and pressed down on her bud. Her legs snapped shut and he worked his hand, sliding another digit into her wet canal. Her juices coated his fingers and he swiveled his wrist, sliding his thumb up and down on her clitoris. Kever sucked the tight tip of her orb deep into his mouth and flexed wrist. The muscles of her channel undulated around his fingers and he thrust them deep. His cock thumped in his pants, jerking for freedom against the zipper. His heart beat hard and he could feel its pounding in his throat. Cries escaped her. It wasn’t enough. He released her tit and worked his way down her body, stopping to lap at her bellybutton. Her stomach quivered and she spread her legs to accommodate his torso. He positioned himself between her thighs, replacing his thumb with his mouth.

Kever curled his tongue around her bud, biting down gently while driving his fingers into her pulsing cove. Her body arched off the bed while the “
ohs
” dripped from her lips. Moving his mouth lower on her pussy, he lapped at her cream. He held her thighs apart and buried his nose against her clit as he ran his tongue along the sensitive tissue of her honey pot. Her legs shuddered under his palms.

He kissed the top of her slit and rose up on his knees, sliding his zipper further down and easing his jeans down his hips. His shaft sprang free. Moira lifted up from the bed and slid an arm around his neck, pulling herself to him. He moved his hands, digging blunt fingertips into the soft skin of her hips. She threw her leg over his thigh and, using her arms, leveraged herself up. Holding his gaze she skimmed a hand down his back and around his waist to take his shaft in hand. With her fingers encasing his cock, she dropped down impaling herself on his dick. He felt her nails dig into his shoulder as she levered up and tossed her head back. He moved a hand up to grab a fist full of hair as she dropped down, enfolding his dick in her passage. Kever tugged her hair and slid an arm around her waist, splaying a hand on her ribcage. He controlled her movements and flexed his hips up to meet her halfway on her downward momentum. His thigh muscles strained as she reared back and she rotated her pelvis with every drive. The only sound reaching his ears was the slap of their skin at every meeting. She fell back further and he released her hair. Moira closed her hands around his forearms and her body jerked as he continued his thrust. His gut tightened and the familiar feeling of a current zipped along his nerves.

What she sobbed out was unintelligible as her orgasm hit. He caught the last syllables that escaped through her lips before his world went dark. Kever blinked several times yelling out his own release. She slid off his legs and he fell to her side.

He rubbed his eyes. “Cher, you blinded me.”

The mattress dipped when she moved, and he felt the soft touch of her lips on his chin. “Wow, I am good.”

Kever closed his eyes and laid back. When the bed shook and he no longer felt her closeness he cracked a lid. “Where you off to?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She stilled then sighed. “Maybe if this shack had been built with a bathroom I wouldn’t have to venture outside.” She rolled her panties off her legs and dropped them on the floor before falling on the bed to slide on her jeans. “And you owe me some new panties.”

“Sugar, I will buy you a drawer full. Gimme a minute and I’ll come with you.”

“Seriously, to the bathroom? I think I can handle it.”

***

Moira rose and looked down at the man that just gave her the best orgasm of her life. Not that she would ever admit that to him. Kever lay on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes. His hair was starting to curl and an errant black lock was stark against the white bed linen. He needed a shave too. He appeared deceptively relaxed with his ankles crossed. She’d bet money he could move with amazing swiftness if necessary. Damn, she had it bad. She really shouldn’t have went for that second round of sex. But he was there and she was… Who was she kidding? She’s wanted him since New Year’s and she finally found an excuse to let go. She’d never hear the end of it from Pens and Violet. Moira dropped her head forward and scratched it.

“You okay?” She heard the concern in his baritone rumble and marveled that she actually understood his accent.

“Fine, just thinking. Your accent is getting deeper.” Moira peered at him from beneath her lashes.

“That happens sometimes.” He chuckled. “You don’t appear to have a problem understanding me.”

Moira placed a knee on the bed and leaned forward, sliding her lips against his in a quick kiss. She pulled away and he grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward. Rising to meet her halfway, he cupped her cheek with his other hand. She laid her palms flat on his chest to brace herself. His mouth was on hers and his tongue skimmed her lips. He nipped the corner of her mouth and kissed her deep when she parted her lips, twinning his tongue with hers before sucking it into his mouth. He slanted his head for better access and she pulled back, breaking his hold. “You’re a dangerous man, Kever LaRue.” She panted.

“Nice to know that finally dawned on you, Moira Blackstone.” He flashed a devious smile.

She wiggled out of his grasp, picked up a pillow and slammed it on his torso. “Arrogant ass.” Moira mumbled as she stuffed her feet into her boots and crossed the room. She stepped onto a sun-filled porch and stood for a moment warming in the rays. Trotting down the steps, her phone buzzed in her pocket as she went right then backtracked left to find the outhouse. She pulled the phone from her pocket as she opened the bathroom door. The backlight from her phone illuminated the darkness; she wrinkled her nose at the smell. Pulling in the rope handle she closed the door and read the screen.

The text was from Violet.
Girl, what are you dealing with down there??? Nothing new on the three deceased Marks. Newell chick—dangerous. Dishonorable discharge from Army. Was sniper with bad temper. Watch your back and call me!!!

What the hell? Her need forgotten, her first thought was to show the text to Kever. She placed a palm on the rough wood and pushed. The door didn’t budge. Moira reared back and stared at it, letting her eyes adjust to the lack of light. She stuffed the phone in her pocket and shoved again. Nothing happened. Concern flooded her and she put her shoulder against the worn planks and heaved forward. The tiny building rocked and settled in place.

It was getting hotter in the small space and the rancid smell of shit was rising. She gagged. Moira lifted the collar of her T-shirt over her nose and turned, looking for a way out. Bleak light shone through the thin opening above her. Cracks in the mismatched pieces allowed slithers of light to bisect the walls. She huffed. Screaming probably wouldn’t do any good, but she wasn’t about to sit there. If she depended on Kever to save her, hell, she would never hear the end of it.

She inspected the toilet contraption. The stand it was built into was sturdy plywood. Moira climbed up, got a good whiff of what was below her and felt the bile burn the back of her throat. She slid her fingers through the opening and pulled herself up on the tip of her toes. Frayed lumber bit into her joints. Moira peered through the large crack and narrowed her eyes when she saw a shadow cross the yard in front of her. She reared back. Whoever was out there was running from her not to her. It couldn’t be Kever.

She leaned up against the timber to get a better look outside and caught sight of fire licking up the side of Kever’s shack. She tried to climb higher to get a better view. From her position she estimated the flames were moving up the walls fast and had already engulfed the corner of the house. Moira jumped down and started running her hands along the walls, looking for a weak spot. She hopped up on the stand and braced herself against one side of the outhouse, raised her leg and proceeded to kick the barrier.

Chapter Eight

Kever smelled the smoke before he saw the flames. He rose up in the bed and studied his surroundings. It was too quiet and Moira wasn’t flittering around. He wiped at his eyes with the heels of  his hands. He must have dozed off. The smell of burning wood wrapped around him. Kever turned his head in the direction of the odor and watched as flames ate through the wall of his kitchen. Sliding off the bed, he snatched his jeans from the floor and jammed his legs into them, jumping to yank them over his hips. He knew Moira wasn’t in the room and ran for the door, calling her name as he threw it wide and crossed the threshold.

A bullet slammed into his shoulder and sent him sliding across the porch. He wrapped a hand around his shoulder and pulled it away. Pain seared through his arm and blood coated his palm. He struggled to rise. Getting his feet under him, he took a step and another bullet whined through the air. Kever took cover behind a thick porch pillar. “Moira,” he yelled. He peered around the old timber and another bullet whistled past him, embedding itself in the wood next to his head. Taking in what he could see, he tried to guess where exactly the ammunition was being fired from. “Moira,” he screamed again and knocked his head on the hard surface when he didn’t get an answer.

With a sigh, he debated his options. He swung his arm and grimaced. The wound hurt like a bitch but it wasn’t too bad. He couldn’t look for Moira until he eliminated the threat. There was only one way he could do that. He ran for the front door and dove into the room, nothing happened. Fire blazed hot up one wall. The heat rolling from the burn buffeted him. There wasn’t much time. Once the camp stove was engulfed and the propane tank ignited, it would create a small explosion. He ran to his weapons and pulled down his two rifles, slinging them over his shoulder. Then he ran to the bedside table, snatching the forty-five up and stuffing it in the waist band of his pants. He yanked the hidden drawer out of its slot and tossing it on the bed he picked up the bullet boxes and dumped them on the mattress. Picking up handfuls of the bullets he pushed them into his front pockets.

He ran to the front door and peered around the doorjamb. Heat licked at his back, forcing him to make a move. One arm was useless from the gunshot. He cocked the rifle on his hip and stepped onto the porch. A bullet ricocheted off the plank next to his foot and he hopped back. He lifted his weapon and fired in the direction the shot had come from. There was no time to get in a gun fight; the fire had spread to the next wall and had picked up speed. As much as he despised doing it, he had to use the third exit in the house.

Kever raised his leg and kicked the bed out the way. Next to the trunk was a trap door. Wrapping his fingers around the knotted rope, he hefted the heavy panel up and stared down into the slow moving water. He knew jumping in to the murky water seeping blood wasn’t ideal, especially considering the animals that liked to rest on the bottom of the bed. Wet guns would do him no good. He tossed them on the bed and grabbed his crossbow and quiver. He shook the pillow case off the pillow and dropped the quiver in them, knotting the ends through a belt loop.

Kever dropped to his knees and threw the trunk top open. He pulled out the first-aid kit and emptied the contents on the floor, searching for the bandages. Slapping some gauze on his wound, he awkwardly wrapped a bandage around it and hoped it held in the water. He shrugged on the spare shirt he kept in the chest, palmed the rolled money and, leaning back, stuffed it in his pocket. Fire claimed a third wall and the intensity of the heat seared his skin. He jerked on the old tennis shoes he kept under the bed and moved closer to the opening in the floor. It was cooler closer to the water. He looked around his small get-a-way. The camp stove was engulfed in flames. A ping of disappointment bounced through him. He’d built this house with his own hands. Anger quickly fed off his distress, he ground his teeth and picked up the crossbow. Someone would pay dearly for his loss. He inhaled a breath and dropped into the frigid water.