Soul of the Wildcat (15 page)

For just a moment Dakoda considered changing the subject. Then she shook off the impulse. Hiding her past was the same as running from it. Instead of being ashamed of where she'd come from, she should be proud she'd overcome the handicap of having an irresponsible parent.

She drew a long breath. “Listen, I'm going to tell you the truth,” she said, going flat out and straight ahead. “My mom was nothing but a whore, a druggie, and a petty thief. I never saw much of her because she was usually in the slam, or off partying. My dad—” She shrugged. “Like I told you. She probably didn't know him long enough to even get his name. More than likely, he picked her up as a twenty-dollar trick, and never even knew he'd made a kid.”

Jesse held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Whoa! I think I'm detecting a little bitterness there.”

“You could say I'm a little pissed,” Dakoda agreed, at the same time wondering why her inner anger would choose to rear its head just now. She usually tried not to let the past intrude on the present, yet somehow the bad old days had a way of creeping in when she least expected their arrival. “While other kids were going to school, and bringing cookies their moms baked, I was shacked up with whoever she could shove me off on. I can't tell you how many men we'd lived with by the time I was fourteen.”

A low whistle escaped him. “Damn. I'm sorry. That must have been tough.”

She laughed shortly. “Hey, it's the card I drew being born. I guess I'm lucky. Of all the kids she got knocked up with, I'm the only one she didn't abort or give away.” Feeling a knot forming in the back of her throat, she lapsed into silence. In her mind the past should be dead and gone. Poking through the graveyard of memories wouldn't do her any good.

Jesse leaned forward, reaching out to brush her tangled hair away from her face. “She must have known there was something special about you, Dakoda. You were the one she held on to.”

Suddenly unwilling to be the recipient of his pity, she pushed his hand away. His touch held too many implications, things she wasn't sure she was ready or able to deal with, no matter how attracted she was to him.

Bile simmered, creeping up the back of her throat. She forced herself to meet his gaze without blinking. “You don't know what you're talking about!” she snapped without thinking. “You think that was a good thing, being dragged around like so much garbage?” She regretted the words the instant they sped past her lips, but it was too late to take it back.

He slowly shook his head. “I'm not saying it was a good thing. What I am saying is that what happened in your past made you the person you are today. People don't become rangers just because they have a whim. You've obviously worked hard to get where you are, and you did that by not letting the past hinder you.”

She slumped back against the bales. Her vision began to blur, her eyes pricked by the rise of tears behind her lids. “I'm sorry I snapped at you.” She blinked away the offending mist of emotion. “I can't take credit for doing all the hard work, Jesse. The last man my mom hooked up with before she crashed and burned is the one who ended my career as budding criminal. Ash. Ash Jenkins. He took care of me when no one else wanted me.”

He nodded his understanding. “So you did have someone good in your life?”

Dakoda nodded. “Yeah. Ash was a cop. He forced me to straighten up, get clean, and fly right. How he ended up with my mom, I'll never know. I think it was his desire to rescue a lost soul. He always believed people could change. Too bad some people are rotten to the core.”

She closed her eyes a moment, allowing the memories in. These were the good ones, the ones she was happy to remember. It was easy to picture her stepfather. A big, burly man, he could kick ass with the best of them, then just as easily turn around and save a tiny kitten out of a drainpipe. Just being a good human being wasn't enough for Ash. He believed to serve and protect his fellow man was the best pursuit in life. In that belief, he was an extraordinary man.

“You said
was
,” Jesse commented quietly. “Did something happen?”

Remembering how her stepfather had died, Dakoda felt her stomach clench, then commence a backward slow roll. It was a little more than ironic the two men she'd valued as mentors had both been shot down in the line of duty.

Forcing her eyes open, she sucked in a quick breath through her teeth. Though they'd turned off the little penlight to preserve the batteries, she could still make out Jesse's figure between intermittent flashes of lighting. She was glad he couldn't see her clearly, tell how close she was to crying.

“He was killed,” she finally said, jaw tightening around the toughest three words in the world to spit out. “Some punk with a gun and an attitude. They never caught the little bastard.”

Jesse's dark gaze met hers. By the illumination of the flickering lightning his eyes danced with unnatural glimmerings. “I'm sorry,” he murmured simply.

“Don't be.” Feeling as limp and spent as a wet dishrag, Dakoda scrubbed both hands across her numb face. Her eyes were scratchy with exhaustion, and every bone in her body ached. “Let's not talk any more.” She sighed. “All I want to do now is lie down and rest my eyes for a little while.”

Jesse grunted his assent, then gave a yawn and a stretch. “I have to admit I could use a little nap myself.” Standing up, he started to strip out of his clothes. Rusty's flannel shirt had turned out to be a tad too small for him, and the material was tautly stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. The cuffs rose at least two inches above his wrists.

Catching a flash of naked skin, Dakoda felt her stomach make a quick backflip. “What are you doing?” The temporary resentment she'd felt against him faded away.
Must be nice to be such a free and easy spirit
, she thought,
carrying no baggage through life
.

Spreading the shirt over the top of the bales, he kicked off his shoes. “Getting out of these wet clothes.” The borrowed jeans followed. A little too tight, they clung to every curve of his ass and hips. He wrestled them down his legs, then stepped out of the mass. Because the jeans had been snug, he'd had to discard the breechclout to get them on. Shirt and jeans gone, he was back to the state he seemed to be most comfortable in.

Buck-ass naked.

D
akoda couldn't help staring. God, Jesse Clawfoot was a beautiful man. His nudity was mesmerizing, erotic, and enticing. There was something magical about him, in the way his slightest touch sizzled over her skin. It was as if he held some inner electrical charge, and her body completed the connection that would make the power surge. If she looked close enough she fancied she could almost see the glow radiating inside him.

She held out a hand. “I think I need a little help.” A tremor ran up her spine. His waiting body promised all kinds of carnal pleasures.

Pleasures she was too weak to resist. More to the point, his touch was a pleasure she didn't want to resist. He knew just how to make love to her, giving her all the delightful gratification she could handle, and more.

Jesse's fingers curled around hers. His grip was firm as he lifted her to her feet. “Careful there,” he breathed. “Try not to put your weight on your ankle.”

Dakoda leaned against the hard plane of his chest. The brush of damp lace cups against her sensitized nipples tormented her. The first heat of desire trickled between her thighs. Need swamped her like the waves of a storm-tossed sea. “Thanks,” she breathed.

“No problem,” he murmured into her hair.

She struggled with the zipper of her jacket, barely able to make her hands work. Damn, she didn't think she'd had that much to drink, but apparently she was mistaken. The thing confounded her.

Jesse took over. “Let me,” he offered, one corner of his mouth turning up in a suggestive smile. Metal on metal crunched. He slipped her jacket off her shoulders, draping it over the edge of the bales. “Now your shirt.”

Dakoda's head tipped back. “Okay,” she breathed. Her legs quivered, close to collapsing under her weight. Fearing she would fall, she held on to him tighter. All she wanted was for him to hold her, love her…

His fingers plucked at the front of her shirt, slowly undoing each button. A moment later Jesse slid her shirt off her shoulders. Her bra followed. Cool air caressed her bare skin, sending a spray of goose pimples across her exposed flesh.

His breath hitched. “Damn, you're so gorgeous.” He shifted closer, running the tips of his fingers across the curve of her collarbone. “Every time I get close to you, I get hard.”

Feeling the heat emanating from his eager body, her mouth curled. She might have said something similar about her own physical reactions. “What are you going to do with all that surging testosterone?” she breathed in a coy voice.

His featherlight caress swept up her neck, gently tipped back her head. “Well, I can think of a few ways to ease the tension,” he said. “That is, if you're not too tired to submit to a little friendly molestation.”

Dakoda leaned into him. The tips of her nipples rasped against his bare chest, sending a delicious shiver of anticipation shimmying down her spine. Somehow the outside world always seemed to fade away when they were together. When his arms were around her, embracing her, everything felt good. Right.

“Molest away,” she breathed.

Dakoda didn't get a chance to say much more. His mouth settled on top of hers, the beginning of a slow and gentle kiss that rocked her senses. Arms circling his neck, she willingly opened for him as his tongue pressed against the seam of her lips. Granted entry, he eased his tongue into her mouth, conquering with a silk-warm stroke. He tasted like tequila, an enticing flavor that made her entire body quiver.

Closing her eyes, Dakoda let him lead in the sweet, slow dance their bodies knew so well. His lips charted a new course, lower, tracing the soft curve of her chin, then nibbling along the pulse beating frantically beneath the surface of her skin.

Dakoda shivered as Jesse's big palm cupped the curve of one breast, his thumb sweeping over the pebble-hard tip. “Feel good?” he murmured, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Umm, yesss….” Dakoda's pulse thrummed behind her temples, each pounding beat keeping time with the anticipation coiling deep inside her core. Her body ached, her nipple peaking as he tugged and rolled the sensitive tip.

He brushed another soft kiss against her lips. “I want you,” he breathed into her mouth. “But only if it's something you want, too.”

Dakoda gasped out a strangled giggle. “It's all I've been thinking about all day,” she confessed, her tongue loosened by the alcohol she'd consumed. Slipping a hand between them, she curled her fingers around his jutting erection. “Judging by the size of this, you have, too.”

Jesse moaned softly, slipping a hand between her thighs and rubbing slow circles against the crotch of her slacks. “All I want is to slide into that warm, tight cunt of yours.”

“Need to get these pants off,” she mumbled, trying to keep one hand on his magnificent cock while working the button of her slacks with the other.

Jesse caught both her hands. “Slow down.” He pressed her back against the stack of marijuana bales, settling her butt on the edge. “You just relax and I'll take care of the rest.”

Dakoda clenched her teeth. Relaxing was the last thing she had on her mind. “I'm not sure I can wait,” she gritted. “I'm already creaming my panties.” Though she rarely talked in a raunchy or racy way during sex, somehow it felt right with Jesse. He truly brought out the bad-girl side she'd kept bottled up and stifled for so long.

For the first time in her life she was able to recognize and enjoy her sensuality. Men had taken her body before, used her, sometimes even abused her. She'd taken it, because that's what women did. Shut up and spread their legs, praying to get the fucking over with minimal damage.

As she'd gotten older, she'd gotten tired of getting nothing out of sex. It was easier to cut off her emotions and access to her body, rather than endure a man panting over her. Being alone and on her own was easier, less complicated.

Jesse Clawfoot had tumbled her right back into that pit of complication and confusion. Except this time, instead of being sickened by the touch of a man, she found herself eagerly yearning for his touch, for the passion he ignited deep inside her soul. She hungered for the feel of his mouth on hers, hungered for the feel of his hard, turgid shaft sliding into, pummeling her ravenous sex.

For the first time in a long time, Dakoda Jenkins was going to let herself go wild.

Jesse gave her another slow kiss. “Let's find out just how wet you are.” Sucking in a hiss between his teeth, he skimmed his fingers in the waistband of her khaki slacks. “I love the way these fit around your hips,” he said, unsnapping the top button under her navel. “They hug every curve of your ass.”

Her zipper crunched down, the sound barely heard above the roll of thunder and patter of hard rain striking the plane. She started to move away from the bales, help him push down her slacks, when he stopped her.

“Just lean back,” he murmured in her ear.

“What are you going to do?” she breathed, lungs heavy with anticipation.

“Something like this.” A seeking male mouth descended on one tented nipple.

Dakoda gasped, then moaned as his tongue circled the hard little peak, scraping against sensitive inner nerves with each velvety tug of his mouth.

Her fingers tangled in his thick black hair. “Oh, Jesse,” she moaned. “That feels…” The words disappeared, overtaken by yet another series of moans. She had barely had time to think about what he was doing, when he added another sensation to the mix. The parts of her brain governing rational thought dissipated under a wave of carnal appetite.

Still suckling at her breasts, he slipped one hand into her slacks, working his fingers under the elastic band of her panties. Thick fingers found her aching clit, rubbing gently against the small hooded organ.

Dakoda instinctively rolled her hips against his massaging fingers. Using his other hand to brace his body above hers, Jesse moved from one eager nipple to the next, suckling the sensitive tips.

As delightful as it was, though, she wasn't hot enough. Craving the feel of his cock sliding into her honeyed depths, she lifted his head away from her breasts.

“Take me,” she grated, one hand pushing eagerly at the impediment of clothing around her hips. “I'm so damn hot I can't stand it.”

Fingers still caressing her clit, Jesse looked down at her. Flashes of lighting illuminating the plane's shattered cockpit reflected the desire burning in his intense gaze.

“Not yet,” he protested hoarsely. He deliberately slipped a finger through her dewy labia, stabbing into her depth. “I still haven't had my dessert.”

“Eat the freaking worm,” she grated.

He laughed, his voice a little hoarse from the strain of holding himself in check. His erection pulsed against her hip, hard and hot as a branding iron. “Oh, I'm going to eat, all right,” he teased. He slid his finger a little deeper, then slowly withdrew it. “All I want.”

“Damn you,” she bit off.

Planting a series of warm kisses over her abdomen, Jesse eased to his knees. He tugged her slacks and panties down her hips, easing her feet out of the pile.

Catching one leg behind the knee, he lifted it over her shoulder. “That's much nicer.” His voice held an edge of carnal intent.

Draped over the bales, Dakoda gasped out a strangled giggle. “I can't believe I'm having sex in a wrecked plane on an illegal shipment of weed.” She giggled again, something entirely out of character. She never giggled. The tequila had certainly loosened her inhibitions. “It doesn't get any better than this.”

Jesse planted a small kiss above her Venus mound. “Oh, it's about to get better,” he promised. “A lot better.” Tilting up her hips, he spread her wide. There was no part of her he couldn't see or touch as he wished. She was totally, wholly exposed.

“See anything interesting?” she asked, feigning indifference.

“I see the sweetest pussy a man could ever have the pleasure of laying eyes on.” He dragged in a deep breath. “God, I love the scent of you. You don't smell like other women.”

Dakoda propped herself up on her elbows. “What do I smell like?” she asked softly.

Jesse's throat tightened as he swallowed. “Like everything that's pure, wonderful, and fresh…” His head dipped. His mouth circled her clit, his tongue gently probing the little nub packed with billions of sensitive nerve endings.

Feeling the invasion of his mouth on her most sensitive center, Dakoda arched her back against the bales. Her thoughts suddenly went sideways, tumbling like a stack of cards caught in a high wind. Releasing a growl of hunger, Jesse began to nibble her softest spots, licking and sucking at her labia. As he suckled and teased, one hand slipped up to find a full breast. While his mouth encircled her clit, his fingers pulled and rolled her hard nipple.

Lungs losing oxygen, Dakoda gasped as the first climax roared through her. She shuddered, delight zipping through her like a rocket blasting into outer space. Propelled by the incredible release of intense tension, searing pleasure sped through her body.

She collapsed back against the bales, limp and shuddering in the aftermath of climax.

She didn't have time to think as Jesse slipped his arms under her body, dragging her down to the floor. The silky material of the parachute caressed her bare skin.

Supporting his weight on his elbows, Jesse stretched out on her. His hips settled snugly against hers, his erection resting against her belly. “I love watching you come.” He brushed a spicy kiss against her mouth, giving her a taste of her own musky cream as he fingered the tip of one sensitive nipple.

Pleasantly relaxed, Dakoda's hands slipped around his body; his skin was so familiar under her touch. “I want some more,” she breathed, grinning. “I'm still hungry.”

Jesse lifted his hips, pressing the tip of his shaft against her slit. Resisting the impulse to take her with a single hard stab, he eased the thick crown of his penis inside, just enough for her to feel the penetration.

Gritting her teeth, Dakoda's palms slid to his ass. Her fingers curved, nails digging into his sun-burnished skin. The last thing she wanted for him to do was control himself, restrain his natural inclinations. She wanted him to enjoy himself as much as she had.

And more.

She started to stroke him, seeking out the place where a man would feel the most pleasure. He moaned, his buttocks tightening as her fingers stroked his tight anus. “Jesse,” she pleaded, lifting her hips to take him a little deeper. “Don't hold back.”

Giving in to her plea, he slid a little deeper, acting with relentless control. His expression was tight. “I don't want to come too fast,” he gritted. “You're so damn tight I can feel every ripple around me.”

Breath catching in anticipation, Dakoda lifted one leg, giving him a tap of the rear with her foot. “It's your turn,” she murmured, giving his ear a little nibble. “Get on and ride, cowboy.”

Jesse took her at her word. “Here goes,” he warned, gaze smoldering with hunger. The leash holding his desire in check snapped, allowing his body the freedom to act as it wished. The muscles in his neck and shoulders strained, as taut and tight as rope. Giving a quick thrust, he impaled her. His hot shaft pulsed inside her, stretching and filling every last inch of her sex.