Read You Can't Go Home Again Online
Authors: Aubrianna Hunter
You Can't Go Home Again
By
Aubrianna Hunter
Edited,
Produced, and Published by Writer’s Edge Publishing 2013
All
rights reserved.
©
2013 by Aubrianna Hunter.
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the
publisher.
All
characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.
Other
Books by Aubrianna Hunter
Hidden Depths
Strictly
Business
Siochain
Beyond The Mask
Beyond
The Flesh
Table of Contents
His lips were soft but firm at the same time. She felt his
warm tongue slip between her parted lips, reaching in to graze her own. She had
dreamed of this a thousand times, but the reality was a thousand times better.
He pulled her closer, his hand skimming down her waist, settling on her hip.
She felt his body, hard and muscled, pressing against her. Desire pulsed
through every pore.
She had no idea how they’d ended up here, knew she would
question it later, but for now it just felt right. Somehow, everyone else had
left and they were alone, on a blanket by the pond, warmed by the crackling
fire. She let herself be drawn into the kiss, let herself melt.
* * * * *
He’d only had two beers, yet he felt completely out of
control. Lust raged through his body, demanding to be sated. He felt his shaft
pressing against his shorts, harder than he could ever remember being. How had
he never kissed her before? How had he missed this? He’d been a fool to wait
this long. He ran his hand down her side, gripping her hip to pull her closer.
He couldn’t get her close enough. His tongue plunged into her waiting mouth,
desperate to taste her…everywhere.
He felt her nipples through the thin fabric of her bikini
top, hard and tight, pushing against his chest. He had to touch them. He brought
his hand up, grazed his thumb over the peak before pushing one half of her top
aside. He forced himself to move slowly, trailing kisses down her neck, across
her collarbone before finally settling into her breast.
He dropped soft kisses all around the peak of her breast,
feeling her writhe beneath him, whimpering.
“Please!” she begged.
At her plea, he finally closed his lips around her nipple,
suckling deeply, grazing it with his tongue before gently nipping. He heard her
sigh, felt her hips lifting up, pressing against him.
He was losing his mind, desperate to have her. He had been
with his share of women, but nothing had ever come close to this. Losing the
battle for control, he rolled her onto her back, yanking her top off, freeing
both her breasts to his waiting gaze. When he saw the tips, a deep pink, tight
and pointing, he groaned and pressed his hips against the blanket, his body
eager for release. He yanked her shorts down, throwing them off to the side.
She lay before him in only her black string bikini bottoms, her eyes closed,
head thrown back. Mine, echoed in the back of his mind.
His shaft pulsed again, throbbing, pressing against his
shorts until he thought it would rip the fabric. He moved on top of her,
resting on his elbows so he wouldn’t hurt her. As his erection pressed against
her sex, she rolled her hips, whimpering. He thought he would spill his seed
right then. He gritted his teeth, moving down to suckle her luscious breasts
again. He had always thought her too skinny, but she had curves in all the
right places, and he was desperate to taste every inch of them.
When his lips closed over her nipple a second time, his
thumb grazing the other one, she moaned, writhing and twisting. She pressed her
sex against his ribs, her body already craving release. She was so responsive!
He was never going to last.
“God, sweetheart, you’re making me crazy!” He trailed kisses
down her torso, untying the sides of her bottoms in the process. “You’re so
wet…so tight. I need to be inside you!”
His hand grazed down, brushing past her secret mound. He
kept his touch light, teasing, wanting to bring her to the same edge of reason
he’d already reached.
Just as he was about to pull his hand away, he felt her
muscles clench, signaling her release. He thrust his finger in as deep as he
could, pulling out and thrusting again a little faster. He felt her sheath
tighten, heard a scream rip from her throat. The sensation of her milking his
finger was almost more than he could handle. He held on, grinding his hips
against the blanket.
As he felt her muscles relax, he couldn’t wait any longer.
He shoved his shorts down, freeing his erection. Her eyes went wide as she
looked down at his shaft. “I promise I’ll be gentle—I’ll make it good for you.”
* * * * *
She saw the pleading expression on his face. Was it possible
that he wanted her as much she wanted him? She nodded her head to show her
consent. Then she grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up her body, pressing her
lips to his.
He was huge, capable of tearing her in two, but she trusted
him not to hurt her. And more, she needed him inside her. She was aching,
empty. Her orgasm had barely scratched the surface of her desire. As his lips
met hers, she felt his cock press against her, sliding between her folds. When
his length slid over her nub, her body heated once more, pulsing back to life
almost painfully. The fine smattering of crisp hair on his chest brushed her
nipples, only increasing the ache. She lifted her hips, grinding against him,
silently begging him to take her.
* * * * *
Her slick heat against his erection pushed him even closer
to the edge. She was so soft, so warm….so perfect. He fisted his hands in the
blanket, praying for control as he pressed the head of his shaft against her
waiting sheath. She lifted her hips again, taking just the tip inside her, and
a groan slipped from his lips. He pushed forward, forcing her to take more of
him, slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size. He felt her muscles
tightening again, beginning to contract around him.
“Oh, Christ, are you going to come again?” His breathing was
erratic, coming in short gasps, his fists white-knuckled against the blanket.
She nodded, eyes closed, biting her lip to keep from
screaming.
“Aaah, hell… I have to…” His hips thrust forward, shoving
into her right as her orgasm broke over her. He growled, fisting his hands into
her long, thick hair. He thrust harder, praying he wasn’t hurting her. He knew
she had expected pain, had seen the momentary fear in her eyes. He tried to go
slow, give her time to adjust. When he felt her body tighten, heard her gasp,
he tensed. Had he hurt her?
When her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him on, her
hips lifting again to meet his, relief mingled with desire. He sped his pace,
losing the battle for control.
This is so right! Harder, need to fuck her harder! Need
more! He had never felt this way, never been this way. As her hips rushed to
meet him, her nails dug into his shoulders. He threw back his head, crying out
his release just as he felt her teeth sink into his chest, her nails raking
down his back.
When they could move again, he rolled off her, wrapping the
blanket around them and pulling her in next to him. As he dozed off to sleep,
he thought he heard her murmur, “I love you.” He must have been dreaming.
She lay there, knowing she should be embarrassed by her
response to him, yet unable to feel anything other than satisfied. She had
dreamed, so many times, of being with him this way. Reality far surpassed even
her most vivid fantasies. She knew she was leaving tomorrow, knew he was
leaving in three days for boot camp. Somehow, they would work things out. It
wasn’t like she’d never see him again. They had been friends for years.
She woke up some time later, with a picture flashing through
her mind. He was sitting on the blanket they were wrapped in, head in his hands
and a grim expression on his face. She could hear his thoughts… What have I
done? Oh, my God! This was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.
She jumped up, slid on her shorts and yanked on her T-shirt.
She saw her bikini top and shoved it in her pocket. She couldn’t readily find
the bottoms and after just a few seconds, decided she didn’t care. She slipped
on her sandals and started running. It was only two miles home; she could make
it in less than half an hour. She glanced down at her watch, pulled out her
cell phone and called the airport. She could be in L.A. before noon.
Danielle Foster walked into her apartment at two thirty in
the morning. This had been one of those unbelievably long days, although not a
bad one. They had finished filming the final scene of her current project. She
was the assistant producer of a midlevel budget film. Basically she was a
gofer, but she was making a name for herself. And she had tomorrow off!
She kicked off her shoes, dropped her purse in the corner
and headed around the kitchen bar to the fridge. She couldn’t remember the last
time she’d eaten, but she was just too tired to care. She grabbed a bottle of
water and shut the door, promising herself she would make pancakes and eggs for
breakfast.
She needed sleep…. Days and days of sleep. She had one. Day
after tomorrow they were back in the studio looking at film. It was time to
start editing. She padded into her bedroom, looking at her one sad little plant
and making a mental note to water it tomorrow. She headed through the bedroom
to her dresser, grabbing some pj’s and undies and turning back to the hall…and
the bathtub.
Her little one-bedroom in Studio City was nothing special,
but it was close to work and had a weird L.A. charm all its own. It was small,
but she didn’t need much, and it was affordable. Besides, she was hardly ever
home.
As she sunk down into her 1940s claw-foot tub, she felt the
tension start to leave her muscles. This had been her one indulgence in this
apartment. She had talked her landlord into letting her replace the old tub
with this one. There was a claw foot in her house back in Austin, Texas, and
she had found that one little touch made L.A. feel like home. She leaned back, sliding
down further into the bubbles. A deep sigh escaped her lips. She would have to
be careful not to fall asleep in here.
As long as her weeks sometimes were, Dani loved her job. She
had come to L.A. after college hoping to get some menial job cleaning up in a
studio somewhere. She had been hired as an intern on some crappy B horror movie
that no one has ever heard of. But at least she was in the “industry.” She had
worked hard for the last five years to get to her current position. And she
knew she would work hard for the next ten years to be able to produce her own
movie. But she loved every minute of it.
She had been told, many times by many people, that she was
on the wrong side of the camera. With her face and figure, she could “go
places.” Even if she had believed that, she’d never wanted to be in front of
the camera. Even in high school and college she’d been backstage.
She climbed out of the tub, barely having the energy to
towel off, and padded down the hall back to her bedroom. She threw her towel
over the chair in the corner and flopped onto her bed naked, with wet, uncombed
hair, completely exhausted. There were some advantages to living alone. She
yanked her blanket over her, closed her eyes and was asleep within seconds.