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Wet!
Soaked!
His cocked flexed and his balls tightened in anticipation.
Her moans were increasing, louder now and more frequent, as he took her clit between his teeth and tormented it. Sliding one hand between her thighs, he inserted two fingers into her drenched pussy, stroking her fluttering walls in cadence with his mouth, working her nub.
He worked her slowly, forcing himself to be patient, waking up all those dormant nerves. Unlocking the invisible manacles. Oh, yeah, she was soaking his hand and her hips were hitching upward, pushing herself against his mouth and his hand.
“Oh, oh, oh.”
Her little cries were breathy and so arousing he was afraid he’d come just listening to her. He pressed her thighs open wider and replaced his fingers in her cunt with his tongue. The moment he thrust inside her, she climaxed, her legs clamping against him, her body shaking. Hands grasping his hair, yanking.
Before the aftershocks began to fade he grabbed the condom from the nightstand, rolled it on, and lifting her to him with his hands beneath her ass, drove home.
Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Oh, holy mother.
She was so damned tight and slick and wet and hot, like a silken fist gripping his cock. Squeezing it.
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying to steady himself. But then she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in tighter, and jerked her hips against him. The last thread of his control snapped. He drove into her, hips thrusting again and again, his cock dragging the walls of her pussy with each in and out movement.
He couldn’t hold off release any longer. Moving one hand between them, he found her clit and stroked. Rub, rub, rub. And as she climaxed around him, he exploded, his cock pumping hot fluid into the latex reservoir.
Lights exploded behind his eyes and he felt as if someone had launched him into space. They shuddered together, over and over, the only sound in the room the ragged reverberations of their breathing.
I’m dead, he thought, collapsing at last, trailing kisses over her face and neck.But kill me again. Please.
At last, he lifted himself and eased slowly from the tight clasp of her body, his hand gripping his cock to keep the condom in place.
Cole woke to find himself clutching his erection with his own hand, his skin covered with the heat of semen where he’d jerked off in his sleep.
Swell. Just fucking swell. He was having wet dreams like a teenager over some woman he hadn’t even met yet. So she intrigued him. Big fucking deal. A lot of women intrigued him, but he didn’t have fantasies about them.
Good going, asshole.
The image of her in the rain was still burned into his brain. Soaked, with her thin T-shirt plastered to her breasts and her shorts clinging to her ass like a second skin, she’d looked like something washed up from High Ridge Lake. Even in the best of circumstances, he was sure Dana Moretti wasn’t a woman he’d be anxious to get into his bed.
Yet there was the fucking dream.
He was losing his mind. That was the only answer. Or else he badly needed to get laid. Most likely the latter. But certainly not by anyone in High Ridge. Everyone in town would know within twenty-four hours, and five minutes later they’d have him married. He loved this place, but it exasperated him.
Awakened by the dream at five thirty, he decided to take a ride up into the hills where he could watch the day come to life. Yes, between his job as sheriff and the occasional mission for Guardian, life was good.
The sun was barely a whisper of gold in the sky when Cole had Thunder saddled and was riding him out of the yard. With a thousand pounds of sleek stallion beneath him running flat out, he felt the early morning breeze on his skin and inhaled the heady scent of horseflesh mixed with the crisp aroma of prairie grass.
He still wanted to kick himself for the stunt last night. Why in hell had he decided to hunt up Dana Moretti? Because Jane Milburn was telling people in the diner that she’d rented a little house and now they’d never get rid of her? High Ridge was small enough that Cole knew exactly what property was available where, so locating her hadn’t been difficult.
Renting a house had to mean she was planning on hanging around for a while. Causing a stir in his nice little community. His gut told him a big pot of trouble was about to boil over, covering all of Salado County with its sludge.
When it had begun to rain yesterday, he thought offering her a ride would be an easy way to meet her, but she’d run from him like a scalded jackrabbit. She probably thought he was some stalker trying to pick her up, and he couldn’t exactly blame her. From her point of view, that’s probably exactly what it had looked like.
Way to go, idiot.
He’d have to figure out how to talk to her without pissing her off too much. Just enough to get rid of her. Convince her there was nothing here to find. The killer was long gone and people wanted their kids to rest in peace.
Maybe he’d call Uncle Tate. See if he could drag him in early from the ranch for breakfast and tap into the man’s instincts. They’d always been very good, an important trait for a man who raised cutting horses.
He held Thunder still for another long moment, trying to piece together all the bits of information about this woman. She still remained a puzzle. He’d have to find a better way to meet and assess her. He needed to keep his county safe from prying busybodies and at the same time figure out why those brief glimpses had aroused him so intensely and given him a hard-on like he hadn’t had in months.
