Snow Bound Page 6

  Breathing deep, he opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed, but one look at the wonder on her face sent him over the edge. Rearing back, he pounded into her. Within seconds her cries punctuated the walls of the room, accompanied by guttural growls he didn’t even recognize from his own throat. All he could focus on was the liquid heat of her body, her virgin-tight clasp, and the slap of his flesh against her ass.

  Knowing he had only seconds to spare, he shifted his hips, working himself against the front of her passage. It felt so good, so right. She screamed once more in orgasm, her G-spot releasing a gush of moisture in gratitude.

  He focused on the pounding of his body into hers as his world went supernova. His last thoughts as his body pulsed in ecstasy were of her, and how incredible she was.

  * * *

  A live, naked body was a much more enjoyable way of staying warm than extra blankets and a kerosene heater. Damon curved himself around Tori’s back. The pleasant zing of sensation reminded him just how they’d spent the last few hours.

  She shifted, a bit restless even after the extent of their activities. Sleepiness had been driven away by his insistent attention. Maybe small talk would help her drift back to sleep.

  “So tell me more about Ivan the Terrible,” he said.

  “Who?”

  “The guy who was trying so hard to ruin our night.”

  “Maybe…” He felt her swallow hard before she continued. This probably hadn’t been his brightest idea. “Maybe he’s gone. Why stick around when he knows I’m not alone?”

  “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that wasn’t even him at all.” Her muscles relaxed against his chest, but he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He believed in being prepared, after all. “Then again, maybe he’s even more pissed because now he knows you’ve moved on with your life while he’s been stuck in prison.”

  “Thanks,” she drawled, letting the word spread like melting butter. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  If he’d had any energy whatsoever, he’d have smacked the delectable fanny resting against his hip. “Just being practical. That’s all.”

  She groaned instead of continuing the argument. “How did my routine, predictable life turn into a soap opera?”

  “Hey, at least you got lucky.”

  Laughter shook her entire body. “They are constantly jumping into bed in those shows, or so I’m told. And you are movie-star quality…”

  That left him sputtering. “Gee, thanks.”

  Her amusement didn’t last for long. “I thought I’d left all this behind. I should have known that was too good to be true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The drama. Being scared. Being exposed. I just wanted it all to end.”

  Damon extended his arms along hers, tilting her back so her head rested against his shoulder. Even though his instincts screamed at him to stop, he found himself asking, “How did it all start, anyway?”

  “It seems like forever ago,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, out of her way. “I was a junior. He was a senior. He was a star player on the football team, with several major SEC colleges courting him to play.” Her voice drifted for a moment before she mused, “He was the town’s dream boy, on the verge of making his mark on the world, so you can imagine what a shock it was to discover that privately he was a very different person.”

  Oh, he could imagine. Far more than she knew. “He hit you?”

  “Not at first. It was more about telling me what to do, where to go, stuff I’ve since learned is typical controlling behavior. By the time my parents realized something was wrong, I’d let him take over my entire existence. When I told him it was over, he became violent.”

  Images filled his brain of his parents fighting, screaming threats at each other. His father, the one with the fists and willingness to use them, had always won in their house.

  “My father took one look at the bruises on my arms and marched himself over to Bobby Joe’s family home. His parents were well-known and well-liked in town, but they wouldn’t have been for long if the news got around that their son was an abuser. So they agreed to keep him away from me until he left for college six months later, in exchange for us staying quiet.”

  A grunt slipped out. Relief that she’d had someone there to protect her, someone strong enough to smother Bobby Joe’s power with his own.

  “So it all worked out?” he asked.

  “Until the trial.”

  Like most places in the South, a small town in Tennessee wouldn’t look favorably on anyone going after the town’s local football hero. He imagined the community tried to crucify her when the news broke.

  He shifted, getting another feel of bare skin. The chuckle that vibrated in her chest broke the serious mood. Damon lifted onto his elbow to grin down at her. “What’s so funny, Princess?”

  She gestured toward their bodies, now covered only by her microfiber blanket. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. Naked.”

  “What better way to have a conversation?”

  Her lashes dipped down, hiding her expression from him.

  “You are not at all what I imagined, Princess,” he said.

  She snorted. “I’m not surprised.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone around here has their idea of who I am, who I should be. First I was the bubbly cheerleader, then the spotlight-starved bitch, and somehow I’m still the helpless little woman life has beaten to a pulp.”

  He was starting to see how much that must frustrate her. “Yeah, I figured you were the type to date a guy once and rush out to buy the china you’ve had picked out since you were eight years old.”

  Her voice was small as she asked, “And now?”

  “I’m very glad to find out you are completely different than what I imagined.” His hand curved down to cup her rounded ass cheek. “Very glad.”

  “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, but 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 nodded, 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 m
uscles and hard angles; now she studied the most masculine part of him. Large, as she’d been able to tell from the stretch of her body around him. Feminine 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 she moved to rest on the mattress between 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 farther, stroking and scraping his lower belly before traveling south again. Every groan from his straining voice was like music, every lift of his hips a plea.

  She wanted 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 stretched 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 savored the feel of his soft skin against hers. The steel of his shaft forged with each thrust between her breasts, almost painful against that most sensitive place yet creating an ache down below. Her mouth watered in anticipation.

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

  With his next retreat, her mouth found the head of his cock in a smooth motion. His hardness met her soft, wet warmth. The broad head was meltingly smooth against her tongue, a tantalizing texture she craved. Bracing her hands on his thighs, she mimicked 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 wide, 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 wanted 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 needed her to squeeze. After a few moments catching the rhythm, coordination became natural.

  Without 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 mouth 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 herself 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.

  Chapter Seven

  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, she waited a moment as memory returned to her in waves. Her rush from the bed last night. The fight in the backyard. 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, last 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 the previous men she’d been with combined. But because he drew her on a level she’d never expected. He didn’t treat her like a dumb blonde, 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 remembered 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 prevailed. 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 l
ike 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 of building up the fire settled the ominous feelings. No doubt the fight with Damon—and her trusty 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.

  “Havin’ fun, Victoria Jane?”

  She froze, assaulted by the memories of the last time she’d heard that voice. From the courtroom in Nashville, screaming out his anger and intent for revenge. This could not be happening. Her heart regained its rhythm. She forced herself to breathe, then turned slowly to face the hulking shadow that separated itself from the gloom near the kitchen doorway.

  A hard swallow loosened her throat enough for her to speak, though her voice was thready from fear. He looked even angrier with the bruises forming on his face. “Bobby Joe. What are you doing here?”

  “Didn’t I tell you I’d be back?” A smile, mocking for its lack of warmth, stretched his lips. His face was no longer softened by youth, but hard angles and planes. Brown hair spiked close to his skull, as if it were growing out from a tight buzz cut. But the things that scared her the most were the menacing hardness in his once-familiar brown eyes and the obviously developed muscles under his white thermal shirt. He’d definitely put the long hours in prison to some use, keeping himself in tip-top shape.

  His state of undress, just the shirt and jeans, without the bundling of layers he’d need if he’d just come from hours spent outside, stopped her heart for a moment. “Making yourself at home?” she asked, her gaze sweeping over his clothes.

  That creepy grin remained firmly in place. “Why shouldn’t I, Victoria Jane? No need for me to stand out in the cold, freezing my ass off, while you’re upstairs fucking that busybody from next door. Lowered our standards, have we?”