Snow Bound (10 page)

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Letting me break out of my mold.” She hesitated, then whispered,
“Damon?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“I want to taste you.”

* * *

Damon’s body stiffened against hers
, but
a quick turn of her head let her discover his
lids quickly lowered to that slumberous, sexy expression she was learning to recognize so well. He wanted her to do this. His face told her that, as did the sudden tenting of the blanket at the apex of his thighs. He knew she wasn’t referring to his lips.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Na. I promise I’ll be careful.”

He lay back, whipping the soft blanket off his taut, muscled body. “Not too careful, I hope.”

She rolled her
eyes at the typical male banter
but let his teasing encourage her forward. It was one thing
to lie
in this bed and let Damon fulfill all her fantasies. It was
another to take the initiative,
something she’d never done with her other lovers.
She smiled
to keep the mood light. She didn’t want to
advertise
how important this was to her, b
ut she was going to fulfill as many of her secret fantasies as she could
tonight
.

The sight of those perfectly shaped, smiling lips, so lethal when pressed against her throat, struck her as simply sexy. Just a few more hours, that’s all she had. There was so much she wanted to do, to say, and not nearly enough
time to explore all
fantasies she had stored up inside her.

Damon leaned up on his elbows, his face close enough to kiss. “You sure, sugar?”

She nod
ded, her eyes searching
for just a moment before their lips touched. A moan slipped from her throat. Oh yes, she definitely wanted this.

He lay back, his expression one of intense anticipation, bringing to mind some kind of prince reclining in his harem.
Oh
yeah.
Probably
shouldn’t mention that one of her favorite romance novels featured a visit to an Arabian harem.

Even though there were only two candles, they were bright in the darkened room. All night she’d been savoring the sight of his
defined muscles and hard angles;
now she studied the most masculine part of him. Large, as she’d been able to tell from the stre
tch of h
er body around him. F
eminine pride surged through her
as he stood straight and proud
from the cradle of his thighs.

While she looked him over thoroughly, his penis throbbed as if to catch her notice, bringing a quirk to her mouth.
Nerves tingled in her stomach
as s
he moved to rest on the mattress betwee
n his knees. With hard pressure
she stroked her hands up his sculpted legs, cupping his wide thighs, then retreating with a scrape of her nails. His sharp intake of breath was both an encouragement and a reward. She repeated the caress until his hips arched from the bed and his fists dug into the mattress.

“Payback is its own reward, don’t you think?”
she asked.

His groan filled the air, sending heat shivering through her to pool between her thighs. She’d wanted to torture him, to tease him in order to feel her own sexual strength, to exert the same control over him that he had over her. But to her surprise, liquid heat flowed from her
core
,
a
renewed interest that she wouldn’t have thought possible after the decadent explosions of a few hours ago. Then again, Damon was obviously not a man who fell
into the
“
one orgasm and snore
”
category either.

Definitely a step up.

She
let her hands journey fa
rther
, stroking and scrapin
g his lower belly before travel
ing south again. Every groan from his straining voice was like music, every lift of his hips a plea.

She wante
d so much to give him what he
obviously wanted, but held back, hoping the wait would make it that much better. This time when she stret
ched forward
she let her breasts slide against his skin, nipples
brushing hair-roughened thighs
. His hands snapped to her shoulders,
holding her still as he rubbed
against her.

She breathed deep, eyes drifting closed as she sav
ored th
e feel of his soft skin against
hers. The steel of his shaft forged with each
thrust
between her breasts
, almost painful ag
ainst that most sensitive place
yet creating
an ache down below. H
er mouth
water
ed
in anticipation.

Looking down, she glimpsed the darkening head in contrast to her pale skin, the red marks of abrasion, and literally ached.

With h
is
next retreat, her mouth found
the head
of his cock in a smooth motion. H
is hardness met her soft
, wet
warmth. The broad head was meltingly smooth against her tongue, a tantalizing texture she craved. Bracing her h
ands on his thighs, she
mimic
ked
the thrust and retreat of intercourse, taking him to the back of her throat. Her lips traced the contours of his cock with aching tenderness.

From deep in his throat
, a sound of frustration exploded
. “More, Tori. Harder,” he begged.

Immediately she tightened the clasp of her mouth, roughening the friction. His
moan
was all the encouragement she needed. Her fingers dug into his thighs, massaging the tense muscles in time to her pulls.

Without warning
his legs bent, jerking her off center. Damon spread his thighs wi
de, opening his core
to her in what she could only imagine was a gesture of trust from any male. She braced herself
on her knees
but kept her suction
tight.

“Like this, Tori.” Damon traced the length of her arms down to her hands, then guided them right where he
want
ed them most. One curled around the base, the
other cupped over the loose sac
beneath. His much bigger hand covered her own,
showing her just how hard he need
ed her to squeeze
. After a few moments catching the rhythm,
coordination became natural
.

Withou
t a pause
she tortured him
, fascinated by the play of hardness, moisture, and slick skin.

“Baby, let me make it good for you too.”

On her next upsurge
she released him with a pop. “Now, Damon,” she said as she rested back on her heels. “I appreciate you being a gentleman beyond measure, and as much as I hate to turn you down, I think I’m just a little too sore for any more rough play.”

He grinned with a smile that should be outlawed in this county. “Oh, I know you’re sore
,
honey. That doesn’t mean I can’t make it good.” Yep, she should have been suspicious at the first quirk of
his lips. “Come here to me
.”

She advanced because he asked her to, not because she was comfortable. The feeling that he was about to push some major boundaries whispered through her. The inkling became a certainty as his hands began to maneuver her into position. When he tried to draw her leg over his face, she balked.

“I don’t think I can, Damon.”

“Of course you can, baby,” he said, continuing to pull with steady pressure. “You can do it. I promise.”

Her heartbeat raced out of control as she allowed him to position her thighs on either side of his face. The brush of his breath between them had her quivering in seconds, yet she couldn’t relax.

“Calm down, baby. We’ve done this before, remember? I had my mout
h all over you
earlier.”

Yeah, but somehow she hadn’t felt so exposed then.

“Now
put your mouth back on me
. Just like you did earlier.”

Glancing down, she was reminded that there was another reason behind this position. Her breath stuttered a little in her chest as she braced h
erself once more. Damon’s still-
raised legs supported her shoulders, giving her the leverage she needed to take him in her mouth once more.

Then Damon set out for revenge.

Tori stretched herself awake, amazed at how
cozy
she was despite the lack of electricity. She floated in hazy awareness, savoring the heated warmth at her back and the feel of her soft blankets along naked skin.

Naked skin?

Blinking her eyes open, sh
e waited a moment as memory
returned to her in waves. Her rush from the bed la
st night. The fight in the back
yard. Damon.

Damon. Now Tori recognized the solid form behind her. Even though the candles had sputtered out, she knew the shape of his body, the embrace of his sculpted arms, the pulse of his maleness against her back. Her breath caught in her throat at the exquisite rightness of them being together.
No matter that they had only exchanged a handful of words before, l
ast
night had taken all those late-
night
fantasies and turned them into
reality.

A rockin’ reality she didn’t want to let go of.

Not just because Damon was hot, and better in bed than all four of t
he previous men she’d been with
combined. But because he drew her on a level she’d never expected. He did
n’t treat her like a dumb blond
e
, based on her hair color and cheerleading background. He’d listened respectfully to her past and hadn’t judged her for her teenage
mistakes. He’d just seemed to
get
her in a way no one else had. Memories in small towns ran deep, and people around here still r
emembered her as who she’d been
instead of learning who she was now.

He was everything she really wanted in a man, which was a cryin’ shame. She had no doubt he’d walk out that door the minute the roads were clear and the sheriff could get here.
Especially if she started acting the least bit clingy.
He wasn’t known for sticking around, though luckily he was known for keeping his mouth shut. All the rumors about him had started, and been substantiated, by a class of woman not to be trusted.

Hell, he didn’t even kiss and tell. How
much closer to perfect
could he be?

Twisting just enough so she could see his sleeping face, the laugh lines so prevalent around his mouth and eyes
now softened
, she prayed she’d be able to keep her newfound feelings to herself until he hightailed it home. The last thing she wanted to lose in all this was what little dignity she had left.

A sudden urgent need for the bathroom cut short her mooning. One might want to contemplate the romantic aspects of the universe, but biology inevitably prevaile
d. She grabbed up a fuzzy robe
on the way through to the bathroom and pulled
it on, shivering in the closed-
up chill of the room. After relieving herself and checking on the dripping faucet to make sure the water hadn’t frozen over
the last few hours
, she went downstairs to check on the fire.

The embers glowed in the darkness.

The shadowy room, dark and still, brought
an
awareness of exactly why Damon was upstairs. She’d walked through this room her entire life, but suddenly it wasn’t anything like the house she’d grown up in. Shaking her head, she forced herself to take a step, then two, away from the stairwell. Each one became easier, until she’d reached the wood pile next to the fireplace. The mundane task o
f building up the fire
settled the ominous feelings.
No doubt the fight with Damon—
and her trust
y shotgun—had run Bobby Joe
off.

Heck, it
probably hadn’t been Bobby Joe
, just some opportunistic criminal thinking he could hole up in her house during the snowstorm. That wouldn’t make her feel better, except he’d have no reason to stick around once he realized she wasn’t alone.