Untamed: (Heath & Violet) (Beg For It) (12 page)

Bringing the palms of
my hands along hers, I pressed them into the table on either side of
her head. Her fingers intertwined with mine and she moaned, her eyes
fluttering shut.

“Violet,” I
murmured, worshipping her with my kisses, dipping down and again like
a drunk, needing another and another taste. With her arms stretched
up, her sweater slid up, too, exposing a patch of her stomach. I
traced a path with my fingers, along the edge of the waistband of her
jeans, up and around her belly button. She panted and twisted at my
touch. I leaned down and kissed her skin, so soft, so delicious.

“I wasn’t sure
you’d come here today,” I whispered, circling her belly button
with my tongue. I’d half expected her to not show up, to think
better of it. I was glad she’d made the wrong choice.

She pushed herself up
on her elbows, giving me a naughty grin. “Did you think I’d be
too scared of you?”

“You should be.” I
cupped a hand under her ass and pulled her closer toward me, then
stroked the inside of her thigh. It felt so right, her legs spread
wide open, her luscious body laid out before me.

“I’m not scared of
you,” she said, but her voice sounded more breathless.

“Maybe you should
be.” I watched her as I worked my fingers up her inner thighs,
closer, stroking and teasing my way up.

“Why? Are you the big
bad wolf?” From the gleam in her eyes, she almost seemed to like
the idea.

“Maybe. I would like
to eat you up.” My thumb stroked right along the seam of her jeans.
I could feel her wet heat, her arousal calling to me. Pressing into
her, right where I knew she could feel it best, I leaned down and
licked her stomach next to the still-fastened button of her jeans. I
wanted her to picture it, feel how good it would be, as I swirled my
tongue along her lower stomach and pressed against her throbbing
clit. “What do you think, Violet?” I murmured, blowing against
her wet skin, making her shiver. “Do you think you’d like it if I
ate you?”

BRING! Announcing
itself with an aggressively loud ringtone, my cell phone went off in
my pocket. With a groan, I dropped my forehead to her stomach. It did
put me right where I wanted to be, so close to her pussy still all
buttoned up but we could take care of that real quick. My phone rang
again and she sat up, shaking her head as if waking from a dream.

“You should get
that,” she said, running a hand through her hair. I wanted to be
the one running my hand through her hair. My phone rang again.

Right, I should get
that. Reluctantly, I took a step back, pulled the phone out of my
pocket and swiped to greet Harriet.

“Mmm hmm. Yup.
Right.” I nodded, keeping it to one-syllable responses. I wanted
this call over with. Meanwhile, Violet picked herself right up and
off the table. That wasn’t where I wanted her.

I clicked the phone
off, flicking it to silent. No more interruptions.

“Who was that?”
Violet asked, focusing intently on my lathing table. Never had a
woman been more interested in a lathe. I knew what she was doing,
looking for a distraction. I’d show her a distraction.

“Harriet,” I
answered, coming up behind her. “She wanted to make sure I hadn’t
thrown you out.”

“I should go,”
Violet agreed, but she didn’t move. Now I stood directly behind
her, not touching yet but I bet she could feel my body heat.

“You should go,” I
agreed. “You should leave Watson.” I brought my hand around to
her side, cupping it gently at her waist. She drew in her breath and
leaned back into my chest.

“You want me to
leave?” she asked, breathless again. I loved her response to me,
how the slightest touch got her so hot. Her sweater was thin enough I
could see her breasts and her stiff, pointed nipples. I remembered
how good they’d felt in my mouth, under my fingers, between my
teeth.

“You should leave.”
I brought my face down to her hair, like golden honey. I rippled my
fingers through it, watching the light catch and fall along her
waves.

“What’s this?”
she asked, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out to the
machinery on the table.

“This is a lathing
table. To make grooves and cuts in wood. You want to try?”

“Could I? Yeah.”
She turned and gave me a smile. I picked up a discarded piece of
wood.

Standing behind her, I
reached my arms around, placing my hands on hers. “You lay it
here.” I guided her smaller, delicate hands with my large, rough
ones. I could hear her quick, shallow breaths. Never had lathing felt
so sexy. “You feed it in here.”

I turned the machine on
and helped her bring the scrap up. Under my direction, she turned it
360 degrees to make a groove all the way around. Flipping the machine
off, I held the piece up for her to admire her handiwork.

“Not bad for a
beginner.”

“Wow! That’s so
cool!” She took the piece of wood and held it up, looking at it
from all angles. “I’ve never done anything like that.”

I couldn’t help it.
She’d drawn her hair all to one side and I still stood behind her,
her neck exposed to me. I had to sink my mouth down to her skin
again. I had to kiss her shivering skin, had to slowly lick her as
she panted softly, and when she arched into me, pressing her ass
against my thick thigh I had to bite.

“Ah!” she cried
out, but she didn’t break away. She wound her hands up to my
shoulders, my hair, pulling me toward her. She wanted more.

“You taste so good.”
I buried myself in her neck, licking along her collarbone.

“You feel so good,”
she moaned, flipping around to press against me, bringing her lips up
to mine as if she couldn’t stop herself. She threaded her fingers
through my hair, wanting more. My hands down around the swell of her
ass, I brought her up against me and she wrapped her legs around my
hips. In a few steps I had her up against the wall, pressing her
there where I could hold her tight and fast and right where I wanted
her.

“Heath,” she
moaned, fisting my T-shirt in her hand, raking her nails along my
back. I ground into her as I kissed her mouth, her jaw, her ear.

Low and dirty, I
whispered to her, “Have you thought about what I did to you
Saturday night?”

She closed her eyes and
moaned her response. “Yes.”

“You liked that,
didn’t you?”

Eyes closed, breathing
fast, she managed, “Mmmm-hmmm.”

“I liked that, too.
But now I want more.” I pressed my thick, full erection against
her. Through my worn jeans she could feel how big I was, how hard I
was for her. I wanted to fuck her like this, up against the wall,
pounding and dirty. I bet she’d come when I entered her, spreading
her slick, wet walls, burying myself up in her deep.

“Yes,” she panted,
so ready. I brought my fingers down to her pussy, stroking her along
her jeans where she’d soaked right through, so hot and wet.

“I bet you taste so
good.”

She moaned, dipping her
lips down to my throat. “I want to taste you, too.”

My cock swelled even
harder at the thought. I didn’t know if that’s what she meant,
but man I could picture it, her kneeling down before me, those
perfect lips opened wide. I’d give it to her gently, ease my huge
cock down her throat. Her eyes would open up and water a little at my
size. I was a big man. But I bet she’d take me all in and then I’d
feel her sucking me down, so eager, sucking wet and hot and licking.

BRING! What the fuck? I
thought I’d turned my phone off.

“Shit.” She swore,
her legs unwinding off of me and her hands moving down to my hips to
push me away. “That’s my phone.”

She disentangled
herself and walked over to her purse. She took out her pink
rhinestone cell phone. Why did I have to get reception in my
workshop? It wasn’t always so good in my cabin. Next time, I’d
have to bring her to my cabin.

“Yeah,” she
answered, looking away from me, straightening herself out. Pulling
her sweater down and smoothing her hair.

What the hell was going
on? There wouldn’t be a next time in my cabin. I shook my head,
feeling like some evil magician had cast a spell on me. Why did I
keep attacking her like that? Why did she love every second of it?

She said a few more
one-syllable words, then ended the call and tucked her phone back
into her purse.

“Sam,” she informed
me. “He was checking to see if you’d thrown me out.” She looked
down at her shoes. “I should leave.”

“You should go,” I
agreed. I watched as she shrugged into her giant parka and picked up
her purse.

She walked toward the
exit, and I followed to see her out. At the door, she paused. I
reached around her and grasped the doorknob. I could feel her respond
to my nearness, see her bite her plump bottom lip and sway slightly
as if her knees almost buckled. I brought my other hand to her hip to
steady her.

We both stood there,
motionless. I could have her naked in sixty seconds, spread on the
floor planks, my face buried in her pussy. She’d come and then I’d
slow down, lick and suck and play with her. I’d get her off, give
her what she wanted, what she needed. Then I’d take my time,
licking and sucking and eating her, tormenting her, building and
teasing. I needed to taste her come on my tongue.

“Go,” I managed to
breathe.

She left.

Violet

In the center of town,
a bunch of kids gathered together playing in the snow. A fresh layer
had fallen that morning and now, in the afternoon after school,
they’d gathered together in their mittens and boots and hats. Their
laughter billowed up into the air, infectious. I smiled as I watched
them play.

“We can’t go too
wholesome.” Sam sidled up next to me, a steaming hot coffee in his
hands, plus one for me.

“Thank you!” I
brought it to my lips, grateful to the core. The coffee from the
local shop was so good. I was already an addict.

“We get too wholesome
and we lose our viewers.”

“I know.” But my
voice came out a little wistful. A reality show built around cute
kids building snowmen wouldn’t sell. But, look, now a golden
retriever was frolicking by their side as they tossed around
snowballs. Kids being kids. How about that?

So far, the Ideal
Vermont Itinerary designed by Mayor Marty was making a better
impression on me than I ever would have guessed. I’d seen covered
bridges so picturesque I couldn’t believe they weren’t a
Hollywood set. The local youth hockey coach was a Hottie McHot Hot
and he had a winning team on his hands with tons of heart and
compelling backstories. The local ski mountain was hilarious. They
didn’t make snow, didn’t groom the trails, didn’t allow
snowboarders. The people there were so cranky and cantankerous they’d
be a perfect side storyline.

And then there was the
food. There was the diner with the scones and the woodfire pizza
place, and it turned out that even though there were only a total of
five restaurants in the town every single one of them was fantastic.
The local hard cider got better and better every time I tasted it,
which I planned on doing again tonight.

Friday night, y’all!
A few from the little crew Sam and I were scouting had insisted we
join them at the local bar tonight. The same bar where I’d met
Heath last weekend.

I hadn’t seen him
since Tuesday afternoon at his workshop. I took a sip of my coffee.
Memories of Heath warmed me up even more.

Uninterested in the
children, Sam’s gaze roamed the quaint little town. A church, a
library, a post office, all charming wooden buildings painted red or
white. He shook his head.

“We need something
more juicy.” He didn’t care so much about the charming town. He
wanted some sex he could sell.

“I know,” I agreed
again. “But I’m liking what we’ve found here more than I’d
thought.” At first I’d wanted to leave as soon as I’d arrived.
But now, six days in, I thought we should stay at least another week,
maybe two. There might be a show in Watson. I kept hearing my boss’s
voice—he wanted something that had never been done before.
Something new. I wasn’t convinced yet, but I was further along than
I ever would have guessed.

“There’s something
here,” Sam echoed my thoughts. “But I’m not sure it’s
enough.” He turned to me. “What about that hottie woodworker? The
one who made the rocking chair?”

“No,” I dismissed
the idea, maybe too quickly. I didn’t want to arouse his
suspicions. “He’s not interested in getting involved.”

“We should work on
him. Butter him up.”

“I don’t think so.”
It was more than Heath’s resistance that made me say it. I didn’t
want to share him with anyone.

“Ratings!” Sam gave
me jazz hands.

Holy hell, he was right
about that. Heath was a hit show in a heartbeat. He was so sexy he
should be illegal.

I hadn’t seen much
porn in my life, and what I had seen hadn’t turned me on. But if I
were to shoot a porno, I’d start it out exactly like I’d first
seen Heath Tuesday afternoon. Cue a huge, muscular man in a workshop
with a helmet and a blowtorch, worn jeans hugging his powerful thighs
and ass, thin T-shirt straining at his biceps. He was so fucking big.
My mouth had nearly dropped open. I’d just about gone straight up
and licked him, asked him to take me right then and there. That was
how pornos went, wasn’t it? No plot or character development, just
straight to the sex? Totally unrealistic. Unless you could cast Heath
in the starring role.

Thankfully, he’d been
holding a blowtorch. Even powerful lust didn’t blind me to the fact
that startling a man while welding was a bad idea. You couldn’t
just go straight up to a man and start humping his leg while he held
an open flame. Without the blowtorch, though, it would have been on.

We’d come so close.
But for those blasted phone calls, we would have gone at it all over
his workshop. Every surface, every wall, on the floor, against the
tables.