Heat of the Night

  “You’re very welcome.” Connor stood there a moment, forcing himself to breathe in measured rhythm.

  She looked away. Releasing him, she walked over to the porch railing and rested her elbows atop it. She seemed melancholy and he didn’t know what to say, so he sank into the nearby swinging bench and drank deeply.

  “With your family so dedicated to military service,” she began, “why did you retire? Were you injured?”

  Connor inhaled sharply, debating how to reply. In the end, he found that he could only be truthful with her. “I lost faith in our government,” he admitted, watching carefully for her reaction. “When I no longer believed they were acting in the best interests of the people, I had to leave.”

  “Oh.” She looked at him with sympathy. “I’m sorry. You sound so disappointed.”

  And she sounded as if she cared that he was, which hit him like a heat wave, misting his skin with sweat. The only person he shared anything personal with was Aidan and the comfort Connor received from him was entirely different from the comfort Stacey provided. She made him want to share more, give her more of himself, increase their bond because it strengthened him to know she was there.

  “I wanted to trust them.” He rocked gently, enjoying the afternoon breeze that smelled like freshly cut grass and the fragrant flowers Stacey had planted around the porch. He wasn’t home, but he felt as if he was. “It’s tough realizing that you deliberately fooled yourself because the truth was too painful to acknowledge.”

  “Connor.” She sighed and came toward him. He slid over to give her room to sit next to him.

  “So where do you go from here?” she asked, staring into the contents of her glass.

  “I don’t know. Once Aidan recovers, we’ll sit down and figure out what’s next.”

  “Are you working for McDougal, too?”

  “No.”

  “How long will you be here?”

  “I don’t know. Not long. Another day, maybe.”

  “Oh…”

  They rocked together in silence for a time and he watched her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, noting her restlessly moving fingers. She’d changed into a pink tank top and overall shorts that bared her lithe legs. He was enamored with the view, riveted by the flex and release of her thigh muscles as she pushed the swing to and fro.

  “I bet you’re excited to go.”

  His mouth curved ruefully. “Why do you say that?”

  Stacey gestured around them with a wide sweep of her hand. “You must be bored.”

  “Must I?” Connor reached over, wrapped his arm around her slim waist and tugged her closer. “What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?”

  She shrugged. “Cleaning. Laundry. Sometimes I run over to the Movie Experience and catch the latest action flick.”

  “Don’t you date?” he asked softly.

  “I rarely have time.” She glanced furtively at him. “There also aren’t a lot of men interested in single mothers.”

  “That’s not all you are.” His fingers slid up her side to where her tank top was bared by the arm opening of her overalls. He stroked the side of her breast and felt the shiver that moved through her. “You’re also a woman.”

  “Something has to take the backseat.”

  “Sure,” he murmured. “But you’re ignoring her completely.”

  Her chin lifted. “Not everyone has the ability to have casual sex.”

  “I agree.”

  Stacey canted her torso away from his touch, which brought her almost face to face with him. “How do you do it?”

  His nostrils flared. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Maybe I can use some pointers.”

  “Sweetheart.” He yanked and pulled her chest flush to his. Her drink sloshed over the lip of her glass and splashed on the porch, but neither of them cared. She gasped, her parted lips just an inch or so away from his mouth. “I wouldn’t teach you how to have casual sex if you paid me.”

  The mere thought of another man touching her made him edgy and fierce. His teeth ground together and his fingers kneaded restlessly into her flesh.

  Misunderstanding the dangerous possessiveness that affected him, her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. He grew hard against her hip and her lashes lowered.

  “But then I could have casual sex with you,” she flirted.

  Connor stared at her a moment in surprise, then he growled. “I don’t want to have casual sex with you.”

  “You don’t?”

  He shook his head and reached over to set his glass on the small wrought iron table which sat just outside the arc of the swing. Then he cupped her spine with both hands and rubbed just to hear her moan. “I’m not looking forward to leaving. I’m going to regret not enjoying you the way I should have. I’ll be kicking myself for a long time for not having any control when I needed it.”

  “I like that you were wild.” She blushed and lowered her gaze to where her hand touched his chest.

  “You’d like me better in control,” he purred, taking Stacey’s glass from her and placing it beside his own. He turned her to face away from him and arranged them comfortably with her back to his chest. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he set his chin atop her head and pushed off, swinging them.

  “I could get used to this,” he rumbled, closing his eyes and relishing the heated weight of her sweetly curved body against him. His hands slipped beneath the overalls and cupped the firm, full swell of her breasts.

  Mine.

  But in order to keep her alive, he’d have to let her go.

  “I need to go check on the pie,” she said weakly, but she made very little effort to extricate herself.

  Connor frowned. “I don’t know how to get past this.”

  “Get past what?” She struggled then, and he released her reluctantly.

  “Get past your shell.”

  “My what?” Standing, she backed away.

  “You’re like one of those scaly things that walk really slow and hide inside a round shell.”

  “A turtle?”

  “Yep,” he nodded gravely, “that’s the one. A snapping turtle.”

  The look of outrage on her face was comical, but he refused to smile. They did’t have time to skirt around the truth.

  “Listen.” She set her fists on her hips, her chest heaving with her agitation. “It’s not fair to ask me to have noncasual sex with you when you’re leaving.”

  “I know.”

  “So stop it!”

  “I can’t,” he said simply. “I want you so badly, I ache with it.”

  She glared at him a moment, then stalked to the door and stormed into the house. Connor cursed under his breath and straightened to a seated position. This was ridiculous. He needed to get out of here and get his head on straight. There was too much that needed to be done and he was only complicating matters by pursuing an attraction that defied logic.

  He needed nothing that tied him down and held him back; he had to go by necessity. She needed a man to stand by her, support her, take care of her.

  Pushing to his feet, Connor moved to the door. He’d call a cab to take him back to Aidan’s and then work until they woke up. In a day or two, he’d be far away from here. He just had to stay away from Stacey that long.

  As soon as he stepped into the house, the scent of cinnamon, butter, and apples hit him hard enough to bring him up short. He paused just inside the threshold and raking the tiny living room with a sweeping gaze.

  The walls were painted ultra-pale yellow, the couch and oversized chair covered in blue-and-white stripes, the coffee and end tables scratched and dented in a way that made a visitor comfortable and relaxed. It was homey and inviting, which was far removed from his starkly furnished bachelor quarters in the Twilight. He’d rarely spent time at home alone, preferring to hang out at Aidan’s.

  He wanted to spend time here. With Stacey.

  Connor tightened his jaw and sat on the couch. He caught up the phone handset from it
s cradle, reached into the white wicker basket under the table where the yellow pages were stored, and started flipping through the listings. He sensed the moment Stacey walked into the room and glanced up at her. “I’ll get out of your—”

  He halted mid-sentence, gaping. The pigtails were gone. The shoes were gone. With her fingers at the metal clasp of her overall straps he knew those were about to be gone, too.

  “Oh, hell no,” she said grimly, reaching into a pocket and tossing a string of condoms at his chest, “you’re not getting out of this now.”

  As he caught the foil strip, every muscle in his body tensed to the point of pain. Coupled with the sight of the overalls falling to the floor—revealing shapely legs and a tiny red lace thong that hardened his dick immediately…he groaned.

  Control? He’d thought he would have control if they made love again? Was he insane?

  “What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked gruffly.

  She arched a brow, grabbed the hem of her tank top, and yanked it over her head. Her beautiful tits bounced with the violence of her movements. They were the most gorgeous breasts he had ever seen. Pale and tipped with long, rosy nipples. His desire to suck on them flooded his mouth with moisture and he swallowed hard.

  “I’m getting naked so I can fuck you,” she snapped.

  This time, the sound that left him was choked off by the carnal hunger that had him by the balls, fisted tight.

  He watched in an agony of lust as her slender fingers hooked beneath the waistband of her panties and pushed them down, revealing a neatly trimmed triangle of black curls. He couldn’t move, refused to blink, awed by the sight of her. Short, plump where it counted to ensure he didn’t break her when he rode her, with flashing green eyes that burned with passion. Of course, half that passion was anger, but he could fix that, if he could get his brain to work.

  Stacey stalked toward him, gloriously vibrant. He knew he was in trouble. His stomach was knotted up and his breathing erratic. Even when facing a legion of Nightmares, he was never like this. It was as if every step she took toward him was a step forward that couldn’t be backtracked. He was both excited and scared shitless.

  Then she was crawling over him, straddling his lap, and every labored inhale he took was filled with her scent. Lush, willing, aroused woman. Unlike any other woman in his history.

  The slight tinge of fear he’d felt melted into a feeling of rightness he could not deny. He didn’t feel trapped by Stacey’s longing. He craved it, craved her, and only when she was in his arms did the gnawing ease.

  She reached for the button and zipper of his jeans and the feel of her fingers brushing along the length of his cock snapped him out of his daze. He reached between her legs, parting her with his fingers, finding her slick and hot.

  “Yes,” she breathed, tugging harder at the button of his jeans, which was difficult to free because he was sitting.

  “Let me eat you,” he said gruffly, desperate for the taste of her on his tongue.

  Tension stiffened her frame and she stared at his mouth with heavy-lidded eyes. He bit his lower lip, then released it slowly, feeling her quiver beneath his stroking fingertips. Circling her clit, he licked his lips. She whimpered and her nipples stiffened further, directly before his face.

  Leaning forward, he opened his mouth and sucked her in. It wasn’t enough, not nearly. He cupped the other breast with his free hand, squeezing and kneading, feeling it swell and grow heavy with her desire. Cheeks hollowing, he pressed a puffy nipple to the roof of his mouth and licked his tongue back and forth along the underside of it. Rubbing between her legs, relishing the sounds she made, the mewls and gasps, the way she writhed against him and dug her nails into the bare skin of his shoulders.

  He stroked two fingers over the slitted entrance to her pussy, then pushed inside her. She was soaked, dripping down his fingers, clenching greedily as he began to fuck her. In and out. Working her cunt with every bit of skill he possessed, making her cream and beg for his cock.

  “Please…fuck me…”

  He loved it. Would never get enough of it. Not for his ego, but for her. Because he wanted her to be happy. He wanted to be the man capable of making her happy.

  “Connor…please…!”

  All the while he suckled her, nibbling with lips and teeth, flicking rapidly over the hard peak with his tongue. She began to grind her hips, fucking him back, lifting and falling, riding his plunging fingers. Her cunt was so drenched he could hear it as well as feel it, the wet sounds so erotic he feared he would lose it and blow in his pants.

  He withdrew his fingers with a growl and released her breast with a wet popping sound. “I need to eat your pussy.”

  Unable to wait for her help, Connor caught her by the waist, twisted his body, and lay on his back lengthwise along the couch. She cried out in surprise as he pulled her up and over his mouth, then moaned his name as he lifted his head and licked her from cunt to clit in one heated swipe.

  His dick hardened further at the taste of her, making Connor’s jeans painfully tight. Connor reached down and freed himself, hissing with relief as the pressure lessened and the open air cooled him enough to take him down a notch.

  “Lower,” he rasped, tugging her thighs.

  Stacey blinked at the golden god sprawled between her obscenely widespread legs and felt the slickness of her lust coating her inner thighs. She’d never been so aroused. He was all over her. Devouring her. Just as she had suspected he would be.

  There she’d been, pulling the finished pie out of the oven, imagining what it would be like if they were dating. Imagining what it would be like if this were the beginning and not the end. From the way he was always touching her and teasing her, she guessed he would be the kind of man who would fuck her on the kitchen table because he couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom. She pictured him coming up behind her while she worked at the sink, pushing down her shorts, then pushing his cock into her.

  He was a primitive, highly sexual male. And she wanted him. Never in all of her years had she met a man such as him. What if she never did again? Balls-to-the-wall sex. Nothing-held-back sex. No-holds-barred sex. She’d only had sex like that once in her life. Last night. With Connor. And it had been phenomenal. Would she be kicking herself later for not enjoying more when she had the chance?

  In that moment, with a bubbling apple pie in her gloved hands, Stacey had decided that she was a big girl and she could take it. There were worse things in the world than having a two-night stand with a guy you liked and who liked you back.

  “Come down,” he repeated, pulling at her, his lips parted and glistening, his gaze dark and hungry. “Sit on my face so I can fuck my tongue deep into you.”

  Stacey shuddered violently. He was the type of man who enjoyed going down on a woman. Would enjoy driving her crazy and owning her in such a highly personal way. Branding her, making her his.

  Today, she wanted to be his.

  Clutching the back of the sofa for balance, she came down, biting back the sounds that would have escaped as his hot breath gusted across her wet skin.

  “Yes,” he purred, his large hands holding the cheeks of her ass and urging her into him. He started licking her, long slow licks, dipping into each groove and crevice, breathing harshly against her. He teased her clit, fluttering feather-light and hummingbird-quick across it.

  “Right there,” she whispered, rocking into the maddening motion. A firm lick would set her off and she tried to catch it, swiveling her hips, chasing his tongue. Knowing damn well what she needed, Connor moved away from the tiny protrusion, tilted his head, and thrust into her.

  “Ah, god!” She was shaking, her fingers white with the strain of gripping the couch back.

  Connor growled and pulled her closer, holding her hips and grinding her pussy into his mouth, his tongue fucking fast and deep. Seductive sucking noises filled the air as he drank her down with rough, hungry groans.

  The resulting orgasm was devastating, her eyes squeezi
ng shut, her teeth grinding together. Her silence seemed to incite his ardor further. He lifted her and rolled to the side, setting her bottom on the wooden coffee table before looming over her. His lips at her ear, his left hand at her hip, his right dipping between them to position himself at her opening. He lunged hard and deep, pinning her to the surface with the burning length of his thick cock.

  She cried out in startled pleasure, her breath caught and held as he thrust one hand into her hair and pulled her head back. He mantled her with his big, hard body. Dominated her. Owned her inside and out. Even his breath was hers. She couldn’t breathe without inhaling his exhale.

  “Mine,” he rumbled, his hand at her hip pulling her hard into him, until there was nothing separating them. He flexed powerfully inside her, as if to say, I am in you. A part of you.

  The sensation caught the tail end of her orgasm and caused her to clench tighter around him, reigniting the fading convulsions of her climax.

  He groaned as she rippled up and down the length of his cock, his sweat-slick forehead pressing tightly to hers. “You were made for me.”

  The fit was perfect, if a little snug. Prior to meeting Connor she could have sworn she couldn’t take a cock that big. But he made her so damn hot and wet. She rotated her hips in a tentative circle, just to get the full effect of his size.

  “Oh!” she gasped, as everything tightened up, ready for more.

  “Yes,” he crooned, his lean hips grinding right back, restlessly, near mindlessly, his heavy balls resting against the seam of her buttocks. “So good…so fucking good…”

  Her arms were behind her, palms flat on the coffee table, propping her up. “Fuck me,” she begged, rolling her hips into him, feeling every bit like a desirable passionate woman. Something she hadn’t felt like in far too long.

  “I am fucking you, sweetheart.” He rose slightly, giving her an eyeful of taut, sweat-sheened abs and revealing the fact that he was still wearing his jeans and boots. That made Stacey even hotter, the look he wore of a man who couldn’t bother with getting undressed because he wanted her too badly to spare the time.