Shayla's Story (The Mathews/Clemmins Family Series) (14 page)

Coming up behind her, John grabbed her upper arms. “Come
here, you. The only view I’m interested in is you, in just about any position
you can dream up.”

His thick fingers griped tightly, lifting her shoulders as
his mouth descended to her neck. She gasped at his sheer strength and power,
and arousal poured over her in a relentless wave. John grazed over the
sensitive slope of her neck. He focused his attention there, searching for
hidden pleasures, pressing slow, burning kisses to her skin. She sagged against
him with a heavy exhale. One hand held her securely, his other wandered over
her front, working her into a fevered pitch.

Shayla turned abruptly, grasping his face in her palms.
Violent trembles shook her fingers, and she stared up at him breathlessly.

Crushing her lips to his, she panted beneath their lips. “I
want you so badly.”

John obliged, matching her lustful cravings
with hot deep glides of his tongue. His
fingers tangled in her mane, clasping firmly to her skull. He kissed her until
she was dizzy with need.

The roughness of his
hands caught against her bare hips and she groaned into his mouth. He stripped
the dress above her head, the weight of her clothing disappearing.
Her
fingers worked hastily, impeding her effort to unbutton his shirt.
Her lips broke away over the rasp of his stubble.
“Now. Right now.”

“Easy, baby.” The pad of his thumb made leisurely circles on
the side of her neck, soothing her rush. He pried her fingers away, bringing
them to his lips for a kiss, and began to undress.

Pitifully amused by
her own desperate need, Shayla held her hands to the side of her head as if
holding it from the pain of a migraine. She paced back-and-forth wearing only
her black panties. Her high heels snagged a bit on the Berber carpet as she
dragged her feet in bemusement.
“I’ve never felt like this before.”
She spoke the words aloud, but said it to herself. “I feel like I’m on fire.”

He came to her, caressing her limbs in a reassuring manner.
“Just relax, baby. You okay?”

“You’re just so...” Her gaze lowered to the masculine dips
and textures of his body, her anxiousness decelerating. “Handsome and manly. I’ve
never been this attracted to anyone.”

Shayla timidly reached out, tracing her fingers down the
taught bands of muscles. She played with the dark hair on his lower stomach. He
was heavily aroused. She gripped him, tenderly fondling his taut skin. She
touched him with curious wonder, startled by the new sensation building in her
chest. When her gaze lifted, a storm brewed in his eyes, drinking in her body
with the same thirst.

He released her and opened his suitcase, digging for
protection.

Shayla noticed a
Bare
Your Soul Calendar
placed perfectly in the mesh zipper compartment. She
peered over his shoulder, reaching around him to grab it. “Hey. Where did you
get that?”

“You’re not supposed to see that.” He shut the suitcase and
turned so they faced each other. His brown skin flushed crimson high on his
cheeks. “That’s mine.”

“Where did you find that?” Shayla grilled.

“Somebody, a publicist or someone, sent several to my mom. I
saw it on their computer and nabbed it.”

“What did you think? Did you like it?” She poked his
stomach.

 
“What did I
think?”

“You didn’t like the photo?” Her shoulders dropped and she
let out a sound of discouragement. Her voice sounded more dejected than she
intended.

His finger cut through the air, making a triangle of her
private parts. “I think those are mine. That’s what I think!”

Uncertain if John was seriously unhappy, she blanched,
folding her arms over her breasts.

“That being said, it’s the most beautiful picture I’ve ever
seen, but I wanted to break that surfboard in two when I read it was a
man
taking the photo.” John unfolded her
arms, holding them open to gaze at her body. He eased her into his embrace. He
shook his head slowly, guiding her arms around his neck. “No more naked photo
shoots.”

The heat radiating off his hard-on wedged between her thighs
made her squirm. “What? No, you can’t tell me—”

He raised a brow, rocking his erection between her thighs,
daring her to complain.

“What were you going
to say?” He stared straight into her soul. Using skilled accuracy, he
maneuvered her panties to the side, pushing further, gliding over her wet
flesh. His ridge slipped over her swollen layers, sending a
zing
of pleasure through her. He made
short, deliberate thrusts again, pulling a moan from her throat. “That’s right,
baby. These are mine.”

His bravado reached
an all-time high as his fingertips circled a breast teasingly.

Her breathing wasn’t
right, and she couldn’t think right either. She clung to his shoulders as all
rational thoughts left her brain. At that precise moment, she might’ve followed
him anywhere or done anything he asked. She had fallen prey to his masterful
charisma.
 

“Do you like this?” He
nudged again. His question dripped with sincerity, yet his eyes held a naughty,
playful grin.

 
“Honestly, I like everything about you,” she
panted.

“Tell me you won’t
pose nude in front of another man again.”

He stopped all
movement. John’s thick fingers spread wide, grasping both ass cheeks. He held
her firmly with an imposing stare, both brows bent, waiting for her reply.

Dangling on a
pendulum, Shayla was torn between complete irritation and zealous lust. He was
pushing her buttons, asking her to make promises she wasn’t ready to say aloud.
If she said yes, she feared she would lose all rational thought and bury him
deep inside without thinking twice about the consequences.

She shimmied off him
and snagged the condom from the top of his suitcase. Shayla shoved at his chest,
pushing him backward onto lounger at the foot of the bed. She wasn’t sure who
looked more stunned, her or John.

“Oh, shit. I’m—”

Stifling his
apology, she pressed her fingers to his lips, requesting his silence.

Hands skimming over
her hips, Shayla slipped her middle fingers into the sides of her panties and
dropped them to the floor. Somehow managing to keep a straight face and her
nerve, she lifted her leg and placed her high heel on the lounge outside his
thigh. She had never been so assertive in her life.

Astonishment washed
over his stunned expression as if she had just blown his mind. His breathing
labored and his eyes dilated. He let his head list to the side, taking in the
full view.

A feeling of power
simmered through her as she enjoyed the effect she had on him. Insecurities she’d
worn like a sweater all her life were replaced with a calm inner comfort she’d
never known.

“It was for charity
and a good cause.” She wiggled the foil.

John blinked
repeatedly, having difficulty removing his gaze from her sexy show of exposure.
He swallowed, then glowered. His gaze narrowed to a somber frown. He rested his
forehead to the slope between her bare breasts. “
I’m
a good cause, Shay.”

Something was
happening between them. She could only describe it as energy, a current of
magic energy tingling at her core.

“Okay, I won’t pose
for any man but you,” she conceded softly without hesitation, digging her
fingers into his dark hair and cradling his head.

They each moved
instinctively.

Shayla lifted her
other knee, straddling his thighs.

John held her
tightly, tugging her onto his lap. He nudged at her opening, breaching the snug
barrier.

She braced herself,
lacing her fingers at the back of his neck.

He cupped her bottom
suspending her, and she took him in slowly, yielding to his impalement.

They stared at each
other. She settled lower, giving way to the thick intrusion, engrossed with the
sound of his breath coming in rugged groans. Her back arched, and Shayla
reached behind her, placing each palm on his knees. Raising her chin to the
ceiling, she fluttered her lashes as John filled her with the rest of this lustrous
heat. She lost sight of his gaze, as her eyes rolled back into her eyelids.

His hands held her,
strong and secure, allowing her to ride him freely. His thigh muscles strained
beneath her as he began to thrust, taking all she had to offer, silently
demanding more. A pleasured cry rose in her throat and he brought a hand to her
front, his thumb circled her clit until she moaned out his name.

“You’re not done,
baby.” His rough voice heeded a sensual warning while his finger worked her
into madness.

She couldn’t keep
quiet, groaning in ecstasy, clenching and pulling at his rigid length.

John’s other hand
threaded through the damp hair at her nape, gipping the base of her neck, compelling
her to meet his intense stare. Another set of spasms tumbled through her. He
smiled as if in a trance, watching keenly, bringing her to the pinnacle of an unchartered
climax. And when she thought he had finished, he took control of her wilting
frame, clutched her by the waist, and planted her feet on the lounge. She
wriggled at the fullness.

He licked and ate at
her throat, her chest and her breasts. “I want you. Fuck, you feel so good.”

His rhythm quickened
with need and her body responded, giving it to him, riding him hard until he smothered
his moan in her neck with a shudder of release.

Breathless, she
buckled, laying her cheek on his shoulder. Her arms curled beneath his, holding
to the surface of his back.

John pressed his
mouth to her neck.

She felt the curve
of his smile against her skin, struggling for air.

John cuddled her
close in his lap and she dropped her head, snuggling into the comfortable dip
between his shoulder and the prominent bulge of his bicep.

Staring wordlessly
into each other’s faces, they drank in the tenderness of the moment. A thin
layer of perspiration covered them. The sweet fragrance of lust and love,
heated by passion, wafted through the air between them.

Her messy hair
cascaded to one side and he smiled affectionately, fingering though it,
brushing a stray strand from her cheek. Shayla caressed his face with absolute
slowness, relishing in the texture. Her finger traced over the small scar on
his cheek. “How did you get this?”

He cupped her bottom
and rose to his feet, heading for the shower. “It’s not near as good a story as
what you’re expecting.”

“What? No jail
time?”

“Nope. There was
this mountain lion—”

She burst out
laughing.

He set her feet on
the floor and gave her a grin that made her heart stop. “I played baseball in
high school. I was on the mound and took a line drive to the face. If you look
real close, you can see the thread marks, but most of them have faded.”

He continued with
his story, proudly showing off a few other scars as they showered. They talked
and kissed, sharing stories. Shayla loved listening to him talk. Even though
he’d been raised in Las Vegas, John wore an old school vibe, an old-fashioned
goodness, filled with manners and self-reliance.

In a blur of
conversation they dried off and climbed in bed. She lay on her side, her head
resting in the crook of his arm. The sheer masculinity of his features
intrigued her, drawing her in.

John twirled the strands
of her sodden hair around his finger, leaving them in a corkscrew curl. A small
wondrous smile lit up his face. “You have great hair.”

“That is the
cheesiest line I’ve heard from you yet.”

“I haven’t used
a line
on you yet. With you, everything
seems to pour out,” he assured, releasing another coil of blonde hair. “It’s
straight but wavy, it’s just so perfect and yet messy.”

A slight tremor
scratched down her back and her brows puckered. Shayla felt the lobes of ears
turning hot.

“Did I say something
wrong? That was supposed to be a compliment.”

“No, it’s not that.
It’s just…I used to get in trouble for having
messy
hair when I was a little girl.”

“Seriously? I bet
all little girls have messy hair at one point or another.”

“Not at my house. At
my house you got your hair chopped off with a knife.” The words tumbled out of
her mouth before she had time to add a filter.

He cringed at the
idea, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s
horrible. Why would your dad do that?”

“My mother did it. Twice.
I used to get high anxiety when I was little, and I would twirl my hair
constantly. My house was a war zone. My dad would find any little thing to zero
in on and blow up into a huge fight. Instead of sticking up for me, my mom
grabbed a chunk of my hair and lobbed it off with a steak knife.”

John stiffened.