Chasing Her Tail (14 page)

“What’s your name?” he asked her, breathing hard. She was a little flattered that she could steal his breath when even a hard run didn’t wind him.

“It
is
Bridget,” she told him, her own chest heaving beneath his. “So quit calling me muttly. Or Norman. Sweet pea’s okay though. Even better than Bridget, actually.”

He jerked a little. “How’d you know that?”

“I’m the dog.” After basically lying to him about who she was for the past twenty-four or so hours, it was a relief to tell the truth. Maybe, though, telling this kind of truth wasn’t a good thing for John. Perhaps it would’ve been kinder to allow him to believe she was only a dog. She shook her head. It was too late for regrets now. The cat—or dog—was out of the bag.

“So I’m making out with the dog.”

“No,” Bridget told him, a little put out that her attempted seduction was going so poorly. “You’re
not
making out with me. We’re talking instead.”

“Great. I’ve managed to fuck up an ill-advised hookup with a gorgeous, burglarizing dog girl. I think I’ve just hit a new low.”

She laughed and then paused, glancing away. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, brushing the sensitive skin of her inner wrists with his thumbs. “As dog girls go, you’re pretty much perfect.”

Bridget squirmed with pleasure and he growled, pressing her down into the mattress. “I thought maybe,” she told him, her voice breathless, “you were more interested in guys.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “Why’d you think that?”

“Because of what you said about Micah. His cuteness, I mean.”

A touch of color darkened his cheeks. “I thought I was talking to the dog when I said that.”

“You were.” A flash of guilt ran through Bridget. He probably wouldn’t have said most of the things he’d told her if he’d known she actually understood.

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“Well, I’m not,” he said.

Bridget looked at him, puzzled. “You’re not what?”

“Gay.”

“Okay.” She lifted her head to kiss his jaw.

“Not totally, at least,” he amended.

Bridget drew back to look at him. “Which means?”

“I’ve hooked up with a couple of guys but mostly I’ve dated girls.” He glanced away and then back to her face. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“No reason to be embarrassed,” Bridget told him. “I understand the attraction to hot guys and Micah is definitely hot.” She felt him stiffen beneath her and not in a good way.

“So you did know him,” he accused her.

“Barely,” she said defensively, catching the emphasis on “know”. “We made out once. His nephew was a student in my first-grade class. After that one time, Micah blew me off completely until the dog thing happened.”

“Right.” John traced the edge of the collar where leather met skin. “This is pretty hot on you, by the way.”

Bridget smiled. “Thank you.”

“When I’ve thought about what it’d be like to have a beautiful, naked home invader climb into bed with me,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, “I didn’t imagine there’d be quite so much talking.”

She would have smacked his arm but he still held her wrists captive. “And whose fault is that?” she demanded, fighting her own smile.

“Probably mine,” he admitted. “Although it’s partially your fault for being so interesting. I’ll make it up to you though.” With that, he lowered his mouth to her ear.

Bridget shivered as he traced the shape with his tongue and she tilted her head to give him better access.

A part of her was amazed. What she was doing was completely out of character.

Climbing into bed naked with a guy she’d only known for a day was crazy, totally not something the Bridget of just a week ago would have considered doing.

Ever since that night with Micah, though, it was like a part of her that had been sleeping had finally woken up—and woken up with a vengeance. She wanted John, wanted him inside her, filling her. It might be unwise, even straight-up nuts, but Bridget didn’t care. She was going to grab this opportunity with both hands.

John’s teeth closed lightly on her earlobe, making her arch beneath him, her wrists twisting in his grip. Just a touch of his mouth on her ear and she was wetter than she’d ever been before.

“John,” she moaned and he released her earlobe.

“Why are you calling me that?” he asked, his breath brushing her ear.

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Katie Allen

“What?” Bridget struggled to pull herself out of the quicksand of lust he’d so quickly thrown her into. “I thought that was your name.”

“Yeah but only my mom calls me that.” With her head turned, Bridget couldn’t see his face but she was pretty sure he was grinning. “Whenever someone calls me that, I feel like I’m in trouble.”

She gave a breathless laugh. “I’ll remember that. Sounds like a good way to keep you in line.” Turning her head to look at him, she was caught by the heat in his eyes and almost forgot her next question. Trying to focus, she finally remembered to ask, “So what should I call you? Hot Guy?”

His smile dropped away. “You don’t need to say that. I know I wasn’t pretty even before I picked up a few souvenirs in Afghanistan.”

Bridget rolled her eyes, loving that she was in human form and could finally do that again. “Please. Like you don’t know that you’re built like Adonis on steroids. Pretty doesn’t come into it. You’re something beyond pretty.”

John snorted. “What’s beyond pretty? Beautiful? Gorgeous? Divine?”

“If you start throwing out words like ‘divine’, I’m going to start questioning that whole not-gay thing.”

“How’s this for not gay?” He ground his rigid erection against the juncture of her legs, dissolving her stomach in another wash of desire.

“That works,” she gasped, happy she was able to talk at all. “Now how about a name?”

“Hammer.” His voice was rough, as if the contact had affected him just as much as it had her. “Call me Hammer.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Hammer? Do you know how many bad puns just crowded into my head?”

His laugh was more of a groan as he rotated his hips again. “How about I make you forget all your jokes?”

Any hammer puns she would have made were already forgotten with just a single roll of his hips. “Sounds good,” she rasped and then his mouth found hers.

God, he’s a good kisser.
He knew just when to be soft and when to increase the pressure, when to use his teeth and when to use his tongue. With a moan, Bridget wrapped one leg around his hips to hold him to her and forgot everything but the feel of him.

He released her wrists so he could run one of his hands up her arm, supporting his considerable weight with the other arm. His hand was huge but his touch gentle as he cupped her shoulder and then slid his palm down her side. Just his fingertips brushed her straining nipple, driving it to an even more rigid point. After that barely teasing touch, his hand dropped to her waist.

Bridget broke the kiss. “Hammer,” she pleaded, wanting his hand to return to her nipple, to pull and massage and pinch until she was out of her mind with lust.

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His mouth bore down on hers, nipping her bottom lip sharply before pulling back.

“My bed, my rules,” he growled, his hand sliding beneath her so his arm circled her waist.

He flipped them both over easily, reversing their positions. Bridget’s breath caught at the swift motion and at the ease with which Hammer moved her. She thought she was used to how big the man was but that had brought it home once again. Compared to Hammer, she was tiny.

With his hands beneath her arms, he lifted Bridget to a sitting position until she was straddling his stomach. She was instantly distracted by the ripple of muscle beneath her pussy, which was pressed against his skin. The muscles in her inner thighs felt the stretch as her knees reached for purchase on the bed.

“Fuck you’re wet,” he groaned, pressing his abs up against her. With a small sound, she bore down against him, needing more contact, more stimulation, more of something that his stomach muscles just couldn’t give her.

He reached past her and eased his boxer briefs over his erection. As soon as she realized what he was doing, Bridget twisted around to help. He bent his knees and she slid his underwear down his legs and off, tossing them to the side. She reached for his tempting erection but Hammer caught her hand before she could touch.

“Don’t be in such a hurry,” he admonished, giving her hand a warning squeeze before releasing her.

Wanting him to be just as desperate as she felt, Bridget smoothed her hands across his chest, raking her nails lightly over his skin. When he shivered beneath her touch, when goose bumps rose on his skin and his breathing quickened, she felt it all through the stomach muscles beneath her thighs and against her pussy. His eager reaction melted her, drawing out even more moisture that wet his skin.

When her fingers found his nipples, Hammer jolted, bringing a small smile to Bridget’s mouth. She pinched both nubs sharply and he swore, his voice as rough as sandpaper.

“That’s it,” he told her, seizing both her hands. “Lace your fingers together behind your head.”

She hesitated, not wanting to give up the power she’d just discovered, wanting to continue exploring how her touch could make him quake.

“Now!” he barked and she obeyed, pulling her hands from his and twining her fingers together at the back of her head before she even realized what she was doing.

He gave a short nod. “That’s better. Now keep them there or I’ll have to tie you.”

This new, commanding Hammer surprised her even as he turned her on. Bridget couldn’t stop herself from twisting her hips in a slick, needy grind against his stomach.

He smiled, his eyes hooded, and she knew he was aware just how much she liked his bossy side, the knowledge that, even on his back beneath her, Hammer was definitely the one in charge.

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Katie Allen

Her position gave her lower back an arch, thrusting her breasts forward and up, as if they were begging to be touched. When Hammer moved, though, his hands landed on her hips instead. Bridget whimpered.

Ignoring the needy sound, he kneaded her flesh, moving almost leisurely. She moaned—he was driving her crazy! She pressed her interlaced fingers against the back of her head, wanting more than anything to drop her hands to his, yank his fingers up to her breasts, to seize his head and force more of those addictive, drugging kisses from him. Resisting the urge, she kept her hands where they were and groaned again.

She wanted to rotate her hips, to slide her pussy against his skin, but he kept her still in his hold. Bridget bit her lip, fighting the need to jerk out of his hands and impale herself on the iron-hard erection that pulsed so close to her weeping pussy. Once again she restrained from acting on her urges, enjoying his control—the tight clamp of his fingers into the giving curve of her hips, the rake of his gaze over her exposed breasts, even the light touch of the leather collar that encircled her neck. Tightening the muscles in her lower back, she thrust her chest out farther and waited for Hammer’s next move.

He liked that—she could tell by the flare of heat in his eyes and the tightening of his jaw muscles. His hands slid back to cup the cheeks of her ass and her muscles tensed beneath the caress of his fingers. Bridget’s head fell back as his fingertips tucked into the crevice separating the globes, her hair brushing the small of her back. Just that silky tickle against her overly sensitive skin made her breath catch in her throat. Her entire body was lit up, as if her nerve endings were exposed to each touch.

Pushing her back to straddle his hips, Hammer sat up. Even in her aroused state, Bridget was impressed by the easy way his abs pulled his upper body into place. She was quickly distracted by the press of his erection hot against her ass.

This close, the temptation to touch was almost unbearable. His sculpted chest was so close that Bridget could feel the heat radiating from it.

“May I touch?” she asked in a breathless rush, her eyes hungrily taking in each detail—the way the moonlight cupped the muscle of his shoulder, rounding into his upper arm, the strength of his neck and the tight planes of his face.

“Not yet,” Hammer growled, pulling her hips tightly against him.

She could only groan in response as her body shrieked for more—more contact, more caresses, more
him
. His hands slid to her waist and higher, up the sides of her rib cage, stopping just under her breasts. Her breath came quickly, pushing her chest against his palms, those tormenting hands that were close, so close, but not quite touching where she so desperately wanted to be touched.

When he slipped his hands back down her sides, Bridget couldn’t hold back a whimper. He returned his grip to her ass, massaging the cheeks, tracing the dividing crack with his fingertips. Putting her weight on her knees, she lifted her body a few inches above his lap. Bridget arched her back, pushing her ass into his grip.

The muscles in her inner thighs burned from the effort of kneeling with her legs spread wide but, strangely enough, that just added to the pleasure, ratcheting up the 76

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needy ache of her entire body. Her efforts were rewarded when Hammer’s fingers brushed the entrance to her pussy. He growled deep in his throat as he traced a teasing line to her clit.

Bridget held her breath, releasing it in a shuddering sob when his fingertip finally landed on the nub of flesh, pressing it down on itself and releasing shock after shock of pleasure. She jerked beneath his touch, so close to coming that a flare of red covered her vision.

As he continued to play with her clit, his head lowered so he could kiss her shoulder. Running the tip of his tongue along her collarbone, he nudged a finger into her pussy. Her legs shook, from fatigue or desire, Bridget didn’t know. Her knees slipped a little along the bed and she dropped just enough to take another inch of his finger.

It felt thick inside of her. Except for Micah, it had been a long time for her and her body gripped his finger tightly. She could feel Hammer’s breath panting against her damp skin, air moving in and out faster then she’d seen at any point during his run.