Snow Bound (7 page)

The movement of his hands inched the nightgown higher, revealing her lower back. It was the sight of two tiny dimples, one on each side of a little pink heart tattoo, that sent him over the edge into pulsing orgasm.

* * *

For a moment Tori didn’t recognize the tiny pulses
. She was too busy enjoying the feel of Damon’s hardness against her most private skin. But there was no mistaking the splash of liquid heat against her back.

She froze, literally paralyzed as his groan filled the room. He’d come. Already. The ache between her thighs pulsed in protest.

As the reality that their little interlude was over settled into her cooling body, Tori’s mind whispered with memories of strange cars she’d seen
parked
overnight at his house, all the times she’d heard someone mention he’d been
seen at the honky-
tonk, and a small part of her wept. When she’d tho
ught about his popularity in
town, she
’d assumed the women
were right happy to have him around
here
. She obviously didn’t rank high enough on h
is meter to warrant a decent effort
.

Selfish prick.

“Damn
,
woman,” he said against the back of her shoulder, his voice
as
guttural as his groans. “Are you trying to kill me?”

If possible, her spine stiffened even further. “Excuse me?”

“This.” A single point of warmth slid along the base of her spine, right
where
her tattoo resided. “How am I supposed to control myself when you pull a surprise like this?”

Her hands, which up
til now had been reaching back to clutch his thighs, released their hold to cross over her breasts. Damn, she felt
exposed
all of a sudden. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She could feel the rumble of the laugh in his chest. “See. Who would have expected a princess like you to use such language? To brandish a gun like a natural?” His voice deepened a notch. “To have the sweetest pink tattoo pointing the way to that delectable ass? That’s more than a man can take.”

“Obviously.” Unable to stand the closeness with no promise of more, she stepped away. “Now if you’ll excuse me—“

The pull on her shirt kept her from moving far. “Where’re you going, sweetheart?”

“To clean up.” She wanted to flinch at the misery tightening her voice, but there was no help for it. The one night she’d hoped to break out of her self-impos
ed shell and he wasn’t even
man enough to give her a decent orgasm. Was it her? Was she simply not worth a little bit of effort?

But Damon’s hold didn’t ease
. “I’ll take care of it.”

“What?”

“I made the mess;
I’ll clean it up.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She’d give anything to be out of this humiliating situation, except then she’d be facing the night alone with a psychopath outside. “Please,” she said, tugging away. “Please just let go.”

He did. But the release of her shirt was replaced by a breeze of movement as he stepped in front of her and cupped her upper arms. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

Like she
would dare
spill
her humiliation in front of
him. “Nothing.”

“Women always say that when they’re upset about something.”

That jerked her out of her misery
enough for her to glare at him. T
he quirk of his eyebrow told her that had been his intention. Her chin lifted and her back straightened a
s she could literally feel her
“
southern
lady
”
persona asserting itself. “I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else,” she said. “Besides, it’s not like you’d know how to fix it anyway.”

He inched closer, invading the personal bounda
ries she suddenly felt an intense need for
. “Honey
,
I know how to fix just about anything. A
computer. A car. Even a pissed-
off woman. How much you want to bet I can sweeten you up?”

“I think that’s a bet I’ll d
efinitely win.” Without thought
her gaze swept down his front to the softening flesh revealed by his open fly.

His eyes widened as he finally grasped the elephant hiding in the
room. But instead of retreating
or brushing off her disdain with some macho disregard, his hands r
eturned to the hem of her night
shirt and swept it up over her head. Her last sight before she was engulfed in gray cotton was the light of challenge narrowing his eyes.

* * *

Damon didn’t give Miss Priss a chance to protest. He
stripped the shirt upwards
and managed to detangle her flailing arms enoug
h to separate her from it
. Those
pale blue eyes shot fire
,
and she made a grab for the material, which only served to give him an awesome view of high, bouncing breasts with dark rose tips. The stirring at his groin was both welcome and expected.

Ap
parently the little p
rincess thought he’d taken his own pleasure and planned to leave her to her own devices. One reason Da
mon had always gone for the non
delicate types was because one round just didn’t cut it. He wasn’t boasting when he said he could go all night long, but he wasn’t interested in journeying alone.

“Ah, Tori, your distrust wounds me.”

An
unladylike snort echoed in the room. “I doubt it.”

“But it does,” he said. Circling around her now frozen form, he used the wadded up shirt to wipe the small of her back clean, lingering over the cute little tattoo. “I may have come, but I’m nowhere near done.” He leaned his now
semi-
stiff cock back into
the same snug channel it had
enjoyed
just
mo
ments before. His voice lowered to
a rumbling growl. “Not anywhere near done.”

The shiver tempering her stif
f stance gratified his male ego
but also made him even more determined to make t
his good for her. Those proper s
outhern manners kept her from ope
nly criticizing his performance
or asking for what she needed. He’d see to it th
at she received everything she sh
ould have asked for.

Finished with
clean
up
, he tossed the gown aside. Tori’s delicate shoulders were straight with perfe
ct posture and indignation, the lines of her body narrowing
to a tiny waist normally hidden by th
ose little sweater sets
. Creamy skin covered the flare of her hips, the heart shape echoing the tattoo
nestled
between the dimples on her back. Her legs were surprisingly long for such a petite woman, and firmly muscled
,
as if she worked out regularly. O
f course, the stairs at the bookstore
were
probably
a work
out in and of themselves
.

He had a brief vision of taking her there, her knees resting on the polished oak risers, hands gripping the black iron railings while he pounded into her from behind. The approval that raced out from his groin had him gritting his teeth for control.

Wouldn’t do to lose it again and
really
piss her off.

With sure movements he swept her
into his arms and strode across the room toward that big,
beaut
iful mahogany bed. After a startled gasp her hands clamped onto his biceps, but she didn’t protest. Jesu
s, he could drown in those wide
baby blues.

Feeling the situation had gotten way too serious, he paused beside the bed before launching her into the air. Her squeal echoed around the room as she landed and bounced, the fluffy blankets jumping under the impact. Now that made for some interesting
shimmies
. He couldn’t help but grin as she burst into laughter. Then his eyes narrowed on the now empty expanse around her.

Empty except for one thing.

“What’s this?”

Her look was confused until she saw the di
rection of his gaze. With a cry
she reached across for the nearest blanke
t and jerked it toward her,
probably to cover it up,
but—
Too late.
He’d already seen it.

“Since when does a pretty princess like you need a vibrator?”

Hand fishing under the blanket
, he pulled out
a soft gel
vibrator. Pink, of course.

“Give me that,” she said, grabbing for the toy, only to come up with empty air.

Damon held it higher, the transparent soft
gel allowing him to see
the
candle on the dresser through its
pink surface. A
silver, cylindrical motor provided a hard core. “Very nice, Princess.”

“Please, please give it back.”

He turned h
is gaze from the little toy
to the woman who was giving him more surprises than a
night
out with his a
rmy buddies
. “Why? I think you’ll have more fun if I’m at the wheel.”

For once
Mis
s Priss had nothing to say. No
pithy comeback, no sarcastic put
-
down, no prim comments. Simply a gaping mouth and wide eyes, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard come out of his mouth. So he set out to prove himself right.

Sweeping down, he met her parted lips with his own, reminding her of the excitement to be fo
und in the meeting of their mouths
. Hers soon softened, heightening his
arousal
as she res
ponded to his seduction
, moving her lips with his
, making way for the
demands
of his tongue. He worked her slowly, knowing they had all night, eager to enjoy every last sensation.

Her mouth was hot and moist. She tasted sweet, like muted sugar with a touch of spice,
which made him wonder what all
she’d been up to in this bed before
Bobby Joe
had made an
appearance. Tori
responded freely, not suppressing her inclination to explore in return.

All to
o quickly, mouth to mouth
wasn’t enough. He came down over her, pressing her back against the pillows as he lay along her side.
Skin against skin heated the flames licking down his spine
, the feel of her body a temptation too hard to resist.

With a dip of his head, his mouth
explored
the top curve of her breast, sampling the firm mound that shivered with her breath. He suckled lightly around the outer edges,
paying close attention
to her gasps and moans, learning what she liked, what she wanted, and what truly
set her
on fire.

As his lips brushed the edge of one rose-colored areola, her back arched, urging him exactly where she wanted him. But he wasn’t through torturing her yet. He’d only just begun.

His
urgent need already met, he had infinite patience to savor her every response, to drive them both so high that when he finally got inside her
,
they would both see stars. So he wasn’t in a hurry as he applied his tongue to her nipple. The stiffened peak tighten
ed even
more. Tori whimpered, the sou
nd running straight to his core
. But he didn’t deviate. He flicked across the
sensitive
peak with a rapid beat, in time to her panting breaths. Then he shifted to long, hard licks, savoring the taste of her sweet flesh against his tongue.

Sweet was the best way to describe Tori, he thought as he latched on
to her nipple a
nd sucked hard. H
e wanted to swallow her down his throat. Before the
night was through, he would taste
every part of her.

As her nails dug into his b
iceps and her breath gasped in
her chest, he switched to the other breast,
her reaction
compelling him to make
his treatment there just as thor
ough. God, she tasted so good. H
er response was open,
honest. No feelin
g that she was performing or
aware that she was judging his every little move. Simple, honest need.
Flaming-
hot
desire.