Heavy Issues Part 5

He grabbed both her hands with one of his and immobilized them over her head. He parted her legs with his thigh and sank the lower part of his body into her, grinding his impressive erection against her while his other hand caressed her ribs and moved down to her hip. She tugged at his hand, trying to free herself, and when she couldn't, a totally unexpected shiver of excitement ran through her.

"Because you wanted a stud, right?"

She found herself nodding, mesmerized. Man, this macho power tripping was doing it for her...big-time. She'd never been that wet before. Getting mixed up with him was a very bad idea, but for the life of her she couldn't bring herself to push him away.

"A stud by definition will give you an out-of-control ride. No premarked set of rules, no guidelines. You'll enjoy yourself, sweetheart, I guarantee it, but it will be on my terms. I'm the one in charge. Always."

He trailed his hand down, reaching the hem of her skirt, and lifted it up while he moved his warm lips across her throat. He caressed her inner thighs, brushing with his wicked fingers along the band of her panties before breaching the thin cloth and stroking her mound. "For starters, I want this pretty p.u.s.s.y waxed. Bare for my tongue. Wax it, or I won't f.u.c.k you. And you want me to f.u.c.k you, sweetheart."

She let out a broken snort. Her throat was dry, but she forced herself to speak. "Says who? Yes, I may be interested in finding myself some stud, but who says it's going to be you?" Somewhere in the back of her mind lurked the thought that she didn't have the nerve to back these words up, but she brushed it away and forged ahead. "Maybe you don't do it for me."

She was so going to get struck by a bolt of lightning for that outrageous lie.

He lowered his eyes to her hard nipples, currently poking through her blouse. Then looked at her, an all-knowing smirk on his face. "Yeah, right."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe this is for the last dentist whose conversation with me you so rudely interrupted."

He nuzzled her throat, flicked his tongue over the spot where her pulse beat madly. "I don't think so. These sweet nipples are hard for me. You're panting. Your face is flushed; your pupils are dilated. Your whole body is beaming, baby. You want me. I bet you're sopping wet too," he whispered into her mouth as his wicked fingers delved down. She should be telling him to get off her, but she kept quiet. If she opened her mouth again, she'd be begging him to kiss her. Or worse.

He probed her entrance and growled in approval. "You're dripping juices over my hand. All for me, babe. Wet and ready."

That she was. And the leg he'd lifted to his thigh was holding on to him for dear life. Dentist? What dentist? Her body wanted him-Cole. And the d.a.m.n b.a.s.t.a.r.d knew it.

He pressed his c.o.c.k against her. "Good, because this too is all for you. I want you like crazy."

She arched her back and he growled again, taking her lips in a commanding, wet caress that made her body shake. He rimmed her slit with the tips of his fingers, teasing her. She should call him out on his arrogant statements, but she could manage nothing more than a whimper.

"I've been waiting for so long to get inside this sweet p.u.s.s.y, I don't think I can wait for another second."

Then he was kissing her again, possessively, sucking at her tongue, his mouth mastering hers as his fingers parted her folds. She was so going to give him h.e.l.l for lifting her skirt and finger f.u.c.king her in a dark corner on the street. What did he think, that he'd wiggle his pinky and she'd be coming all over him? Puhleeze. She was going to teach him that she had a backbone. Like right now. But she could only manage another whimper, and then to add insult to injury, the second he slid two fingers inside her and his thumb brushed over her c.l.i.t, she began coming-explosively.

As her o.r.g.a.s.m receded, she heard his low chuckle. "Okay, Miss Speedy p.u.s.s.y, this settles the matter of whether or not I do it for you. You got your first o.r.g.a.s.m. Tomorrow be ready to deliver my first date."

Chapter Four.

Christy was about to head out when her doorbell rang. d.a.m.n, whoever it was, whatever they were selling, she was getting rid of them in two seconds flat. She didn't have time to spare. Cole was coming to pick her up in exactly thirty-five minutes, and she had to be somewhere else when that happened. Anywhere else, actually, just not here. She had to go to the Fourth of July picnic and fireworks. The girls would be there waiting for her, but she was going alone, and to h.e.l.l with their arrangement. Besides, it'd been agreed on under extreme duress and coercion; surely no sane person would expect her to abide by it. His fingers had been in her p.u.s.s.y, his tongue in her mouth, and she'd been totally out of her mind, coming all over him. No doubt those were mitigating enough circ.u.mstances.

The bell rang again, and after a fast glance in the mirror to check herself, she picked up the picnic basket and her purse and opened the door.

"I don't have the tim-"

She choked on her words. Cole was smugly leaning on her porch.

"Either you checked through the window and saw me coming, or you were trying to stand me up. Judging by the look on your face, I'd go with the latter. Sorry, baby, I should've warned you, I'm never on time. I'm always early, just in case."

It figured. "Why? Have many women tried to ditch you?" she asked through clenched teeth.

His eyes glittered with laughter. "Nope, but it's good to plan for possible contingencies. Like...say...reserve thirty minutes for hard and fast, break-the-ice s.e.x before going out on the actual date." The shock must have been written on her face, because he added, "Just kidding, sweetheart. Being early's just a habit from my time in the military."

Oh boy. She hadn't pegged him for a military guy, but now that she thought about it, it made perfect sense. He had that whole soldier-warrior thing going on. That air of command. The obey-me-or-else tone.

"Shall we?" he asked.

She looked around, clutching the picnic basket. d.a.m.n and d.a.m.n! Outmaneuvered again. "If you insist," she said, her teeth all but gritting.

With one side of his mouth curled up, he gave her a heated once-over that left tingles in its wake. "Sure I do." Grabbing her picnic basket, Cole directed her toward his pickup and put her basket in the back, right beside another, bigger one and a blanket. "You didn't need to bring food. I took care of it. Actually my aunt did. Barbecue chicken, ribs, all sorts of salads and ca.s.seroles. She heard Tate was bringing food from the restaurant, and well, I think she's having some compet.i.tion issues with Nils, Tate's chef."

Sure. Like she'd go to a picnic without her own food, or leave it all to chance. Been there, done that, had the stretch marks to prove it. Leaving things to chance had always kicked her in the b.u.t.t.

She got in the pickup without answering, and in her best imitation of a three-year-old, she crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and gave him the evil eye. Picnic basket, Aunt Maggie, Tate's chef? How did the a.s.shole dare to make small talk? After calling her Miss Speedy p.u.s.s.y? Unbelievable.

On the flipside, she wasn't confused anymore. She was back at being p.i.s.sed. A much better speed if you asked her, especially while dealing with someone as arrogant as Cole.

"What's up? What's with the duck face?" Cole asked, looking amused while he turned the engine on. "I just caught you trying to ditch me. If anyone should be ticked off, it's me. Besides, I haven't done anything to p.i.s.s you off yet."

She almost choked in outrage. "What? You must be kidding!"

Cole turned to her, his face expressionless. No, he wasn't kidding. It looked like she'd have to spell it out for him. Thickheaded a.s.shole.

She turned to him. "I don't take kindly to being called Miss Speedy p.u.s.s.y, whatever the h.e.l.l you meant by that." His eyes narrowed on her, challenging, and she felt her face go up in flames. "Okay, I may know what you meant by that, but it's totally uncalled for. You caught me off guard. And being called Speedy p.u.s.s.y is...is...an insult! Like you're comparing me to a man suffering from premature e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n," she added and pouted.

Cole's blank expression turned into a grin. d.a.m.n that those laugh lines around his mouth and eyes were s.e.xy as h.e.l.l. And they made him look more...approachable.

"You got it wrong, sweet thing. It's not an insult, by far, and I wasn't comparing it to premature e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. Premature e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n is what's going to happen to me next time you come so nice and tight around my fingers. That would be bad and embarra.s.sing, but for you to explode the second I touch you? Nah, nothing bad about it; the other way around. It blew my head off. I haven't recovered yet. You're welcome to do it anytime, every time, actually. The more you come, the hotter and wetter you'll be for me."

His voice was so matter-of-fact one would have thought they were discussing house appliances, but his hands were clutching the steering wheel hard, as if he was afraid to let go. When she focused on his eyes, she noticed the fire burning there. Her stomach tightened right away. Man, just looking at him did it for her. How freaky was that, huh?

She cleared her throat, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. She wasn't used to this level of s.e.xual tension. Her dates would usually go on all night about themselves, their hobbies, their important jobs, their busy lives, their brilliant futures. Blah-blah-blah. One-man show, the whole frigging bunch of them. Not one had ever talked about making her come so he could f.u.c.k her nicely. Not on their first date. h.e.l.l, not even in the following ones.

Luckily they'd already reached their destination, and Christy more than welcomed the distraction. The park, just on the outskirts of town, was crawling with people. Some of them were going around the different tables, tasting and picking up pieces of pies. Others had already settled on the gra.s.s on picnic blankets, listening to the live band play.

Too immersed in her thoughts, she didn't notice Cole closing in on her. As he grabbed her hand, she all but jerked away from him.

"We're on a date, remember?" He smiled, tightening his hold on her. It didn't hurt, but it was unbreakable. "Play nice now, baby. Or n.o.body will believe you're crazy about me."

A broken snort bubbled up her throat. "I'm not crazy about you," she corrected him.

No, she was just plain crazy for going along with this.

Her friends waved at them, and Cole steered them toward their spot. James was also there, with Tate perched on his lap, laughing and smooching with her. Those two looked so happy and so in love it made Christy's heart ache every time. She'd never had that connection with anyone-and she'd been engaged too.

Soon after Cole laid the blanket on the gra.s.s, pulled her down onto it, and sat beside her, the parade began. Every five minutes or so some girl came up to them, to Cole more specifically, all sweet smiles and perky b.o.o.bs, clad in two-sizes-too-small push-up bras, eyelashes batting, hair flipping, hips swaying. Flirting and coming on to him so outrageously it was scary to watch. They made small talk and offered him goodies from their picnic baskets; some even went so far as to ask him to dance. The signals were so loud and clear even a deaf and blind man would have picked up on them.

He turned all of them down, giving his undivided attention to Christy. Keeping his arm around her shoulders, always finding an opening to touch her, to tuck her hair behind her ear.

The fact that he was there with her didn't seem to matter at all to his groupies. Apart from a couple of vicious stares and some surprised ones, all the girls ignored her to the point that she had to turn to Annie.

"I'm here. You see me, right?" When her girlfriend nodded, amused, she sighed in exaggerated relief. "Thank G.o.d. I thought for a second I was invisible."

Christy didn't give too much attention to the girls. If she and Cole were on a real date, the way the groupies were behaving would have infuriated her, but that wasn't the case. Christy had no claim to him. It wasn't a date, and she had no business getting territorial. Besides, seeing him sweating bullets was kind of amusing.

Then Annie turned to her. "And just when we thought it couldn't get worse..."

Christy followed her friend's gaze. The hara.s.sing was definitely going to get worse. She'd enjoy this.

Rose came to fuss over Cole, thanking him effusively for his help in the preparations and trying to convince him to accompany her to the tables, where volunteers from Alden's several a.s.sociations were selling pies. Apparently there was a compet.i.tion for the best pie recipe, and Rose wanted him to be part of the jury.

Cole turned to Christy. "Do you feel like coming with me to try some pies?"

Christy choked on the chicken she was eating and shook her head vigorously while Annie tapped her on the back.

"Sorry, Rose. I'm here with Christy, and she doesn't feel like it," Cole answered.

"She is your...date?" Rose asked in a tone Christy was sure should have offended her. "You're kidding, right?"

Cole stilled, a forbidding expression on his face, and Rose faltered. She threw a disdainful look at Christy, then turned to Cole. "I'll be over there...if you reconsider." Although if her tone was anything to go by, if you come to your senses was more what she meant.

Annie said something under her breath, but Christy got sidetracked by her cell buzzing in her pocket. She reached for it-her mother. Sooo not answering. Three days ago, while cleaning the garage and obviously severely high on disinfectant, bleach, and window cleaner, she'd made a very bad judgment call and answered her cell phone. Boy, did her mother grill her long and hard. Todd this, Todd that. Todd is so sorry; Todd is such a great guy; Todd deserves another chance. Please, like her mom's opinion on men carried any weight. She clicked the Off b.u.t.ton. Besides, watching the steady stream of groupies drop by was more interesting.

Cole kept rejecting all the advances, but as far as Christy could see, it wasn't doing any good, and he was running out of patience-and diplomacy.

"All this is your fault," he muttered to James and Tate, who just laughed. "I hold you totally responsible for this."

"Responsible for what?" a smiling Max interrupted. He looked unruly, a key dancing between his fingers.

"Did you steal my bike again?" Cole asked, eyes pointing at the key.

"Nope, I just borrowed it. And it's not a bike, man. It's a Harley, a p.u.s.s.y magnet."

Tate snorted. "As if you needed help in that department."

Max winked at her and then turned to Cole. "My d.a.m.n car wouldn't start. I'd have been too late if I walked. And I figured you'd want me around to deflect some of the heat," he added as his gaze scouted the surroundings, an easy smile on his lips. This was his scene. Cole may loathe the attention, but Max was perfectly at ease with it.

"As much as I hate you taking my bike, yes, you have a point," Cole noted.

Max ignored him and zeroed in on Christy. "You must be Christy, the girl I heard my less than tactful brother dragged out of a bar yesterday, right?"

"I didn't drag her," Cole countered.

"Yes, you did," several people said in unison.

Max offered her a radiant smile. "Drop him, sweetheart. He's too rustic and I'm much more fun. I'll show you."

"If you want to keep your head attached to your body, you'll stay away from her. Feel me?" Cole said almost in a snarl.

Max just grinned. Before he could say anything else, several girls came and hauled him off to dance. He went more than willingly.

"Calm down, girls. There's enough for everyone," Christy heard him say. He was a shameless flirt through and through. And he had the pinup-calendar looks to pull it off.

After a couple of hours a firework exploded, signaling the beginning of the show. "Come here, Christy."

That deep stare and his low, raspy voice transformed his simple command into something wicked and sinful that had her nipples throbbing and heat pulling in between her legs.

"What?"

"Come here," he repeated, not moving a muscle, that obey-or-else tone in his voice making her shiver.

She looked at him. Man, he was big. In another league completely from the unthreatening types she'd dated.

As if pulled by his force field, she leaned toward him, and he lifted her to sit between his legs. Before she had time to complain, he had her half lying on him.

"You'll see the fireworks better from here."

Oh G.o.d. He'd been watching her all through the picnic, touching her too, but just light brushes. This was now full contact, back to chest, while his hard, muscular thighs were around her.

He reached for her hand, and she jumped. "Easy, honey," he whispered on her ear. Jesus, the guy smelled good. Like the outdoors and sun and man. s.e.xy man. Hard, arrogant, s.e.xy man.

He turned her right hand palm up and caressed her inner wrist, grazing his thumb over her tattoo. She'd caught him several times looking at it, but he'd never asked about it, which suited her fine. She never discussed her tattoo.

"Numquam Satis," he said, tracing the letters. "Never Enough."

She looked at him, surprised. "You know Latin?"

He shrugged. "Not really, just the basics. It wasn't a language the marines insisted upon much. Farsi and Afghani, yes; Latin, no."

A jarhead, didn't it figure. "So, the marines."

"Yep, three tours."

Oh h.e.l.l. "Three tours? That's what, twenty years?"

"Twelve," he said absentmindedly while caressing her inner wrist some more, then slowly moving up, pulling at her long sleeve. Before she could ask any more, he continued, "Are you into tattoos? Am I going to find more ink while undressing you?"

She was going to tell him that the chances of him getting to undress her were slimmer than slim, but she recognized it for the big fat lie it was. Besides, she was too out of breath for words. Instead she just shook her head. More tattoos? Was he joking? She'd been in enough excruciating pain getting those two words-she'd even considered calling it quits at Numquam.

"Does your tattoo have a special meaning?" he asked.

Christy shrugged. "It's a reminder."

"A reminder?"