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“Is that all you want to do, Chance?”
“I want to taste you, Jo. I know one thing. It will be better than panda-monium pecan.”
“And I’m going to tasteyou, Chance.”
His answer is another whole-body shiver, then he pours on the speed as if he were about to win the Kentucky Derby and millions of dollars were at stake.
We see the glint of the metal buildings up ahead. As far as I’m concerned, we can’t get there fast enough.
Chapter Thirty
Chance
Running with a hard-on isn’t child’s play, but I barely pay attention to that. How can I think of anything but the pictures scrolling through my mind of all the delicious things I want to do with Jo’s delectable body?
The moment we get to the hut, Jo jumps down, keys the door open, and we both race inside. I glance around the structure, still panting, having worked up a sweat.
Though it’s built from corrugated metal, the inside walls are made of planked wood and plasterboard. The back wall is one big floor-to-ceiling window. The vertical blinds are drawn, moonlight spilling inside through the narrow upper windows.
The place is sparsely furnished, but in the center of the large main room is a big bed. It’s larger than an enlisted man would need. I think it was built with splicer couples in mind. Why did I think for a minute that Slater didn’t want us to find love?
“I want to rip your clothes off and do everything I said.” My voice is that low tone that only means one thing. Sex. “But I never imagined doing these things to your perfect body after galloping for miles. I’m going outside to hose off and will meet you back here in five minutes. Don’t make me wait.”
Jo’s eyebrows rise in surprise at my order, then her lips tip into a sexy smile.
“Don’t makemewait, big guy.” She hurries to find the bathroom as I undo my kilt buckle, let the leather garment slap to the floor, and leave in search of a garden hose.
I find one at the back of the building with hot and cold taps. Slater has thought of everything. I get a surge of regret that I didn’t trust him to allow me to see my friends in the southern barracks. I push that away and replace it with gratitude for every minute that led to me being here with Jo.
No more than five minutes later, I enter the front door, my hair still dripping.
Jo’s waiting for me at the foot of the bed, wrapped only in a towel. I step back until my ass hits the door, just wanting to take in the sight of her.
Her wet hair has darkened to a deeper purple as little droplets sluice down her shoulders and neck, past her collarbones, and into the fluffy white towel.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I rub my sternum. Damn, she takes my breath away.
She bends her knees and tilts her head, not even trying to hide that she’s checking out my cock.
“Hmm. Dapple-gray,” she observes with a smirk. “One long, long, fat, dapple-gray cock. Would it be politically incorrect for me to say you’re hung like a horse? Because I mean that in a good way.”
“You might think hung like a horse is good, Jo, but I must admit, I think the logistics might be… challenging.”
“You know what they say? Yankee ingenuity.” She taps her temple. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.”
She crooks her finger at me. When I don’t immediately step toward her, she lets her towel drop to the floor.
Lightning. For a moment I feel as if I’m struck by lightning as flares of desire zap through my body. My cock thumps against my underbelly, and my throat runs dry.
“Let’s get this party started, Chance.”
Instead of waiting for me to regain my senses and come to her, she steps toward me. Steps? Is she walking? No. She’s swaying her hips, her generous breasts bouncing with each footfall. Her eloquent gaze never leaves mine, speaking volumes about just how much she desires me.
She gets close enough to grab my hands and rests them on the swell of her hips, then immediately shakes her head and steps out of my grip. Did she just change her mind? Regret spears through me as my mind races, wondering what’s bothering her.
I quit worrying when she gives me a saucy smile, steps to the dining table, and grabs a chair. She places it in front of me and steps up as I return my hands to her warm, smooth hips to steady her.
Now her head reaches my shoulder. Much better.
