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“Yeah, but after last night, after you almost got stabbed, I thought for a long time. I don’t want to risk losing you.”
She swallowed. “Because we met with Lisette almost braining me?”
“Yes.”
“I…we’ll date, and I’ll work on the movie while I’m here, but I still need my job, and I don’t want to rush into anything. I trust you.”
“Good. I trust you too.”
She kissed him again, and as she pulled away, he heard her mumble something he couldn’t quite make out. Had she said he shouldn’t trust her?
No, that couldn’t have been right.
“You know,” she said, putting the plates back into the picnic basket and moving it from the blankets to the grass, “I think there’s a way I can thank you for last night, for saving me. For everything.”
Her voice took on a sultry, husky timbre that made blood pound directly to his length. He was growing uncomfortably hard, feeling the lust filling him and making him desperate for her, for her taste and the feeling of her soft skin under his fingers.
“What can you do?” he asked, letting his own voice turn into a low, rumbling purr.
She got to her hands and knees and reached first for the hem of his T-shirt. “How alone are we again?”
“There’s no one near this spot for a kilometer in any direction, at least. Antonio’s farm is pretty remote.”
“You planned that part too?” she asked.
“It might have crossed my mind,” he said.
Her fingers moved with deft precision as she hefted the hem over his head. “I’ve been daydreaming about so many things to do with you,” she said, her voice like velvet to his ears, as sweet and gooey as honey.
She ran her fingernails over the ridges of his abs, her fingers tracing obscure patterns that only she knew over his skin. He hissed as she pressed her lips to his abdomen, right above his belly button. Her tongue poked out and she laved at the sensitive skin there, running her soft appendage over the ridges of his stomach, teasing him with every caress of her tongue. Then she leaned lower, tracing her tongue down toward the waistband of his jeans, tasting just the beginning of the fine trail of hair there.
He moaned and ran his hand through the soft length of her hair. “You minx.”
“Oh, you know what I’m going to do,” she said. Nimble fingers undid his buttons and she smirked when she looked up at him. Her eyes were the color of a stormy sky over an ocean, and she licked her lips. “You didn’t wear underwear today. Seems like you were hoping for something like this.”
“Maybe,” he allowed. Of course, it hadn’t exactly been a brilliant idea to go horseback riding with only denim between him and the horse. Xavier certainly wouldn’t do it again, or recommend it to any friends. “What are you thinking?”
She licked her lips again, deliberately drawing out the motion so his eyes would be drawn to the soft pinkness of her mouth. “Oh, you know.”
The thin, delicate fingers of her right hand wrapped expertly around the shaft of his member. Just as he’d imagined, the very touch—that special caress—was everything he’d wanted back in his hotel. The Mistress of Schlock was coming out to play, to be a true vixen who would tempt and tease. With her other hand, she reached down and cupped the heavy sac of his testicles, her fingers rolling them with deft attention. She gave him one last, impish grin before bringing her lips to the head of his member.
She blew on it at first, a hint of heat that made his testicles clench with need and his body ache from excitement. He was like a bomb cued up to explode, the seconds ticking down on him, and she was the woman sent to set him off.
Her tongue flicked over the head of his length and just barely tasted him. Small, slow strokes that Xavier thought would end up being the death of him, a careful procrastination that made his blood boil and his need for more grow deeper. She licked next time, long languorous tastes of her tongue smoothing over his erection. Then she wrapped her puckered mouth around his root. He arched his hips and met the warm, inviting recesses of her mouth. Jules arched her neck and took him in so deeply that he was amazed at her abilities.
He thrust hesitantly and she met his movement, her neck moving back and forth so that she could suck him deeply. His muscles and nerves shuddered, his body clenched, and he thrust again. Her hands were working at a feverish pitch over his testicles. He was coiled tight, like a bomb ready to detonate.
Then she suckled him in deeply, down to the root again, and ran her tongue up his length and to the most sensitive spot at the head.
Xavier came then, his body detonating into a million pieces. He fell back onto the blanket even as she stroked his member, sending shivers up and down his body until it seemed like he couldn’t possibly feel anything beyond the pleasure.
After a while, he came back to himself, staring at the stars looming above them and twinkling on the indigo horizon. She curled up against his chest and kissed his mouth. She tasted of mint, and she must have rummaged through her purse for some breath sprays while he was blissed out.
“I care about you so much, Xav.”
He kissed her and stroked her hair, relishing the way it fanned out on his chest. “Me too, my little minx. Me too.”
Chapter Seven
