There was something extremely satisfying about loving a woman so thoroughly she was utterly sated, utterly exhausted. 'Loving a woman'. That was the difference. He'd fucked her senseless, but there was more to it than just that.
The suddenness of the thought made him wary. It reminded him of the instinctive possessiveness that had overtaken him as he came. He wasn't ready to face that kind of emotion just yet—'love', the very word was enough to make him shudder. He enjoyed his life precisely as it was. Determined on his course, and quite certain the only option was to avoid her in the future, he shifted her slightly further away from him, away from all temptation, then lay back and stared at the ceiling. Already, it felt wrong. He liked the way her body curled so naturally into his. Yep, abrupt as the decision was, he'd definitely made the right choice. As of tomorrow, he'd stay away from
Gina Longmire.
Almost unconsciously, his arm crept out and wrapped itself around her waist. There was nothing to stop him having the rest of the night, however. His eyes gleamed as his imagination took over.
She'd wake to find her thighs spread wide, anchored in place by his hands, and his tongue licking up the juices that flowed from her cunt. Her whole body would be perfectly exposed in the morning sunlight, her creamy skin flushed with desire, her nipples taut, and she'd be squirming, halfway to orgasm before she even knew what was happening. Nate closed his eyes and settled more comfortably into the mattress. Surely it would be okay to have early in the morning as well. There was no point in denying himself the pleasure of her body too soon…
Chapter Eight
The coffee smelt good. Very good.
Gina rubbed her eyes wearily, almost too tired to carry the mug she'd poured the few paces across to the table. She'd actually staggered rather than walked down the stairs this morning. Thank goodness it was Saturday, and she didn't have to be back at work until Monday. Maybe, just maybe, she'd manage that. Then again…
She couldn't remember ever having been so utterly, thoroughly, comprehensively fucked. She literally ached with the exertion; her legs were still wobbly, and it was an effort to hold herself upright in the kitchen chair. Her body felt
used
, like she'd finally found out just exactly what she was capable of. And that was way more than she'd ever imagined.
There'd been the sofa in the living room—she remembered that quite clearly—then he'd fucked her senseless on the bed. Her eyes glazed as her brain stumbled. How many times had it been? Try as she might, she couldn't remember. She shrugged it off. More than once, that was for sure. It must have been a lot because she couldn't seem to remember sleeping or, more to the point, she
did
remember being woken up. Lots of times.
She took a scalding gulp of coffee, trying to boost herself for the next memory. Then, there was how she woke up the last time. Even sitting here in the very ordinary kitchen, the breeze quietly wafting through her totally normal—and extremely un-sexy—blue curtains, she couldn't help blushing at the thought.
An odd noise had prodded her from a deep dream, a very pleasant dream in which she was somewhere deep in a forest, tall old pines soaring overhead, their needles shivering in a warm breeze that played over her naked body, caressing every curve and dimple. It was night in her dream, the stars appearing and disappearing as the foliage moved, the full moon sailing high above the clouds that scudded across the sky.
And with her, on her…
She wasn't sure. That was the worst thing about dreams—the one thing you wanted to be clear wasn't. There was someone with her, a tall man whose shadow occasionally blotted out even the clear moonlight. He loomed over her as she lay amongst the pine needles, the forest floor a soft and fragrant bed. Yet even as he loomed, towered, lowered himself over her and took control, she was never afraid of him. The lightest stroke of his fingers set her trembling and she arched into his touch, longing for more.
Then the man had changed. She still couldn't see him clearly, but he'd become even larger, stronger, infinitely more demanding. His outline was unclear, almost shaggy, but she could feel his weight pressing her into the earth, hard and solid. He'd brushed his fingers over her eyes—try as she might, she couldn't force them to open again—and she was left inhabiting a whole new world of sensation, one where touch and sound and scent were all that existed.
There was no sight, nothing to see. And no taste either. Her blindly questing mouth couldn't quite seem to make contact with him. Then her hands were anchored by her hips, her legs spread wide and her head was thrashing, her hips rolling as she tried to escape his searching tongue.
She couldn't escape him—did she really want to?— and slowly, so slowly he explored her. He laved her thighs, swirled warm breath over her nipples, licked, sucked and probed until he knew every part of her intimately. Once he'd discovered where she was most sensitive, he set about torturing her with his newfound knowledge. Her ears were filled with the sound of his ragged breathing, their frantic heartbeats, and her own moans and cries. She heard herself whimpering, begging, and still he continued. His head had finally settled between her legs, apparently content to let his tongue wreak havoc with her self-control.
It was a particularly loud moan that woke her up. She'd started to push herself upright, wanting to see the normality of her bedroom surrounding her—and couldn't.
Her wrists were anchored to the bed, her fingers kneading the sheet. Her legs were spread wide, her knees bent over Nate's shoulders, and her body was writhing as she strived to gain release from his sensual torment. His face was buried between her legs and his appreciative little grunts of approval were sending heady vibrations racing through her
blood.
She'd been able to feel the heat gathering under her skin, had almost heard the electric sizzles as her nerves jumped and all her senses centered on the spot where his tongue was tracing lazy spirals, apparently waiting for her to regain her senses. As much of them as he was willing to let her cling to, that was.
Satisfied she was awake, his tongue had delved deeper, invading her pussy at the same time he used his teeth to grab her clit. Slowly, stretching her for every last second of pleasure, he'd bitten down, and she'd exploded. Before she'd floated back to earth he'd been inside her again, his cock easing in as he pushed himself deep.
She'd felt his cooler saliva mixing with her own cum, its warmth flowing down her leg and over her ass. It had drenched the sheet under her, puddling in the depression made by her buttocks, and—for once—she hadn't been embarrassed. He'd whispered in her ear, praised her, incited her, desired her,
wanted
her.
Rough.
Dirty.
Messy
.
Was that what sex was like with the right person? A little bit of adolescent groping and fondling, a few not-very-satisfactory thrusts, then it was all over. That was sex.
Wasn't it?
And yet with Nate…she'd loved it. She'd never imagined feeling so completely fulfilled. Or so at ease with a stranger. And that was pretty well what Nate was to her. A stranger. She'd met him, what—two days ago? So how could she feel so close to him
already?
Gina pushed her coffee aside, folded her arms and collapsed onto the table, wrinkling her nose at the slightly chemical smell of the polish she normally used. Obviously, she hadn't spent enough time with her nose pressed into the woodwork, otherwise she'd have changed to something a little less…pungent. Still, now she was here, she was too tired to even think about moving again, let alone actually lifting her head. God, she was tired. Exhausted.
It seemed like hours later when she lifted her head, twisting irritably to straighten out the crick in her neck. Fancy falling asleep at the kitchen table! She'd put her head down, thinking to have a few minutes' rest, and had fallen into a deep sleep. Goodness, he'd worked her over last night. Gina's lips twisted at the thought. Heck, it had been good.
A light breeze ruffled her hair, just like gentle fingers teasing it away from her scalp. It filled the kitchen with the scent of morning—wet grass and moist earth slowly warming in the weak sunlight. There was even a hint of spring in the air. She glanced up at the fluttering curtains, her smile turning thoughtful. She never opened the windows in the morning, preferring to wait until the day had warmed a little before airing the house.
Nate had certainly made himself right at home, and not just with her body, either. She had a vague memory of him springing out of bed at some ungodly hour. He'd been disgustingly cheerful when all she wanted to do was crawl back under the covers and hide until sometime after lunch. At least.
She'd simply refused to believe it was morning. That warm chuckle of his had rumbled through her, the vibration in her ear setting off another uncontrollable shiver. What that man could do with his mouth! And his tongue… Oooh.
Then he'd tucked her in and disappeared. Or at least, she thought he had. He'd somehow managed to tidy the bedroom while she slept—the
ridiculous
collection of condom wrappers in the en suite tidy bin mute testimony to what they'd spent the night doing—then he'd apparently headed downstairs, finished cleaning the kitchen, and put on the coffee.
Then
he'd disappeared.
Where the hell did he get his morning-after energy? Even after her little power-nap on the kitchen table, Gina felt something like warmed-over oatmeal—uninteresting, soggy, tasteless… Or maybe not. She grinned at herself, remembering the contented murmurs Nate had made as he licked her pussy, thoroughly enjoying himself as he literally slurped up her juices from between her legs. She very much doubted he'd accept her describing herself as 'tasteless'.
Ah well. She heaved herself upright, running her fingers over her face and grimacing. The table had left an amazing imprint in her cheek and there was a sore spot on her shoulder. Had he given her a hickey? At her age! She knew she should have been outraged but smiled despite herself.
A hot shower was what she needed, and she needed it desperately. The evidence of last night was still plastered to her legs, the scent of sex rising faintly as she moved, wafting around her and inducing memories she'd much rather forget. After all, the chances of her seeing him again were pretty damn low. Just because she'd already known it, didn't necessarily make it any easier to accept. And it was, she knew, going to be even harder now she really knew what great sex was.
Her pussy clenched and, even through the soft robe she'd tossed on before heading downstairs, she could feel her nipples hardening. If just the thought of sex was enough to make her body react… Ugh! Right now, she wasn't sure whether she was grateful to Nate for giving her the experience, or whether she should hate him for showing her just what she'd been missing out on.
* * * *
Nate bit back an irritated sigh, instead smiling brightly at the couple who were looking at their third property of the day. Since taking over the agency, he'd started opening on Saturday mornings and— usually—he didn't mind. This morning, however, he'd have much rather stayed in bed. Gina's bed.
And that, he realised, was dangerous. She'd responded so readily to that final tongue-fucking that he'd really wanted to know what she was dreaming about. The instant the dream became reality was obvious, yet she'd relaxed almost immediately. He didn't think
he'd
have been quite so calm if it had been him that had woken up being sucked off by a woman and already in the throes of orgasm. To give up so much control of himself to someone else, to trust them that much… The thought alone was enough to make him shudder. Yet she'd been quite unperturbed to find herself spread wide in front of him, unconscious of just how he'd stroked her, touched her, to get her to that point. He smirked. Well, as unperturbed as she could be considering the way her cunt was writhing wildly into his mouth as he drove her out of her mind.
Was it really going to be possible to escape the fate some deity with a rotten sense of humor apparently had planned for him? He was starting to doubt it.
"Mr. Moore?"
Nate jerked himself back to the present. Thinking of exactly what he'd done to her—all the wonderfully innovative things he'd do to her next time—maybe wasn't a good idea when he was supposed to be selling houses. Make that,
definitely
wasn't a good idea. He could feel his cock swelling and there wasn't much he could do about it.
"Do you like this one, Mrs. Winston? It has a rather good view, don't you think?" Thank goodness he knew this particular house so well—it had been on the books so long he could spiel off its attributes without thought.
"The kitchen is a little old-fashioned."
He put on his best 'salesperson' smile, nodding his agreement even while saying the opposite. "But that's the beauty of it, don't you think? The owner took that into consideration when he decided his price, so you pay less for the house because of it. And of course," his smile became conspiratorial, "that means you get to decide your own color scheme when you renovate."
"I don't know…" She shook her head, lips tight. "It still seems expensive considering we're nearly two
hours from the city.
"Have another look around," he urged. "A property similar to this in the city would cost ten times as much. There's no comparison."
He pulled a face as the couple trailed up the stairs. Working Saturdays paid off because he got the city buyers in, the ones who were looking for their own little piece of paradise. Unfortunately, they also expected it at bargain basement prices. But despite their complaints, they still paid an awful lot more than a local would ever consider for the same property.