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“No,” he bites off.
“Are you a virgin, too?” I whisper.
“I wish I was. The memories of the few times I tried to…be intimate in my early twenties haunt me almost as much as the war.”
My eyes travel downward, lingering on the spot where our hips lock together tightly. So tightly. Without the benefit of clothing, he could seat himself in my body with a tilt of his hips. “It wouldn’t fit?” I whisper.
“Not without pain.” His forehead drops to mine, his exhalations shaky. “I wouldn’t do that to you, little girl.” His surprisingly tender fingers tunnel into my hair, stroking through the strands. “Especially now, when you must be grieving.”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “No, I barely knew my father. He was obsessed with this rig. Cared about it more than he cared about us. It just…consumed him.”
Butch finds this troubling. “He didn’t send support?”
“He did, until I was eighteen. Most of it went toward my mother’s expenses and I saved the rest for college, but…” I blow out a breath and he shivers as it coasts over his bare chest and shoulders. “I was terrible in school. I can’t concentrate. All I want is to be outside in the sunlight.”
His dark brows knit together. “The opposite of me.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say, giving in to the urge to drag my fingertips sideways over the hard slabs of his pectorals. They flex under my touch, his erection jumping between my thighs. “Did you ever love the sun?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can learn to love it again.” Am I snuggling closer or is he pulling me? I can’t tell. But suddenly lying on our sides pressed together is not enough. Butch rolls me onto my back, his substantial weight pressing me down into the bed. My mouth opens on a gasp, my knees jerking up around his hips. “Butch.”
He hums, skating his open mouth along the slope of my shoulder. “What do you do out in the sunshine, little girl?”
“I’m a gardener,” I gasp, as his teeth graze my skin. “A lot of my work is done on window boxes, porches and courtyards throughout the French Quarter. I enjoy that a lot more than maintaining flower beds and lawns out in the suburbs, but sometimes I take those jobs to make…ends meet.”
His head comes up quickly. “Do you have a hard time making ends meet?”
Biting my lip, I nod slowly. “That’s why I need to sell the rig. I could buy new equipment, expand my business. Rent a less noisy apartment without a leak.”
We fall silent, stewing in the awareness that we’re at cross-purposes.
He feels guilty. This is exactly where I want him.
Isn’t it?
So why does my stomach ache? Why am I slipping my fingers up into his hair and tugging him down until our lips meet. “I’m so proud of you for making it to a higher floor,” I murmur, shifting my hips around until he groans. “Don’t you want to take your reward? Take your kiss?”
“Kisses, plural,” he clarifies hoarsely. “You think I could forget about your pussy? I’ll be thinking about it on my death bed.” He rolls his hips, grits his teeth. “How fucking tight it would have been, choking the sperm out of me.”
I don’t know what happens, but I start to shake.
Is this…am I in heat or something?
What is going on?
I don’t know, but I’m whimpering and I can’t get comfortable. He’s so heavy on top of me that it’s almost impossible to move, but I wiggle. I struggle and try and he smiles darkly, watching me attempt it, his mouth poised right above mine. And then I whisper his name and we give in, his hard lips swooping down to take possession of mine. And my senses quite literally explode under the assault.
It’s nothing like I expected.
I expected rough—and oh, I’m getting it. But the sensuality in the way his tongue strokes my lips apart, the slow, savoring licks into my mouth…I didn’t see that coming. My pulse is haywire in a matter of seconds and a ripple of sensation travels through my femininity, liquid heat blooming on the crotch of my panties. His erection is the third member of this kiss, hard and thick and obscene, his hips sawing it against me with increasing force, the bed creaking beneath us. And all the while, his mouth never leaves mine, never allows me to come up for air. It slants and slants and takes everything I have to give, nearly inhaling me in the process. Daring me to remain sane while he’s having intercourse with me via our mouths.
Finally, he breaks the kiss and I sob his name, my heels digging into his hips, back arching. “Pretty little girl with her thighs so wide,” he rasps against my throat. “We’re all alone on this rig, you know that? I’m one shred of decency away from plowing that sexy cunt you’re offering me. Better watch it, Cindy.” He looks down between our bodies where my hips are grinding upward, writhing desperately against his lap. “You’ll put ideas in my head like, hmmm, maybe she likes a little pain.” He thrusts against me hard and I scream, my clit throbbing—throbbing—stars blinking in front of my eyes. “Maybe it’ll feel like Daddy finally came home and he’s paying attention now.”
