Skin (34 page)

“Afraid?”

She shook her head. “You don’t scare me.”

“Really?”

Grabbing a handful of her shirt, he yanked her against him. “Does anyone scare you?”

She swallowed hard and nearly choked, her throat suddenly dry. “No.”

He laughed and cupped the back of her head with his right hand. He pulled her roughly toward him. “I guess with your last name there aren’t too many people to be afraid of.”

“Except those guys who keep shooting at me.”

He smiled grimly. “Yeah, except those guys.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m lying. You were there.”

“Yeah, I was.”

He slid a hand down the front of her shirt, resting it on her left breast. Her heart pounded wildly beneath it.

“For someone who isn’t afraid, your heart is beating fast.”

“So?”

He searched her eyes for the truth and he found only lies. Her hazel eyes were almost emerald green, the golden flecks around her irises bright. Her nostrils flared slightly, like a bitch in heat. His hand closed firmly around her breast.

He lowered his lips to her cheek. “I want to fuck you until you scream for me to stop.”

Her body arched into his, her nipple poking the palm of his hand.

Frankie slid her hands up his arms, lingering on his thick biceps. “And I want to get it all on film,” she said.

“It’s rolling.”

“No, my camera.”

“We use the digital, it has a large-capacity card. I set it for every thirty seconds.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

He gave her a half smile. “Not everything.”

She cocked an eye at him, then pushed away. “Where did you get it?”

“I borrowed it from Midas. The man should have stock in Radio Shack, he has so many gadgets.”

“I keep the chip — no duplicate pictures.”

Reese grabbed her hand and pushed her back toward the covered bales of hay. “No more talking.” When she moved to protest, he pressed her down onto the soft blankets. “Uh-uh, Frankie. We both get stills.”

“Reese…”

He straddled her, grabbed her shirt into each of his hands, and yanked it apart. She gasped as buttons flew across the space, silently landing in the straw and blanket fabric. She raised her hands to cover herself. Reese halted her effort. “No, Frankie, I want to watch your nipples harden.”

He ran a fingertip across one nipple and nodded as it instantly responded. He smiled devilishly and pulled the rest of the shirt from her body. Before she was aware of what he was doing, he wrapped the sleeve around her right wrist. She frowned. What? Then he picked up her other wrist. She realized what he was doing and tried to jerk away. He laughed, sure of his strength, wrapping the shirt around her left wrist and pulling both wrists together. “No!” She struggled, but her hips pressed against his.

“I’m in charge now, Frankie, you’re going to have to trust me.”

“I — can’t.”

He twisted the fabric, tightening it. “Can’t let me tie you up or can’t trust me?”

“Both.”

“Your loss.”

He held her bound hands together over her head, and when she protested again he sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. She hissed and closed her eyes, arching against his mouth. Heat spread through her limbs, racing to her apex. He took her nipple between his teeth and gently rolled it. His free hand slipped behind her neck and he pulled her up, exposing the soft flesh. His mouth traveled up to the swell of her breast, and he nibbled her. His teeth scraped lightly against her sensitive skin and she moaned.

“Harder,” she demanded.

Reese growled and moved up higher, his left hand clamping around her throat, his teeth laving her jugular.

Slowly the pressure of his fingers increased, and she could hear the pounding rush of her blood in her neck, feel it force its way through her jugular. His thumb rubbed the length of her vein and his teeth sunk into her skin, his lips hot and moist around it. Her body arched harder against him. She wanted penetration; she wanted it hard, fast, and rough. The fantasy of giving up complete control, of having a man totally dominate her, made her wet.

In her business she called the shots with men; they always sucked up to her. Reese was taking what he wanted and for the first time in her life it was what she wanted too. It did involve a level of trust. She trusted him to know her boundaries.

Reese grabbed a lead shank hanging from a hook on the stall wall and looped it around the fabric binding her wrists, then fastened it back to the ring. His eyes locked with hers when he stepped back to look down at her.

“Your tits are begging for me.”

She nodded. They throbbed, heavy, overly sensitive. One of the most sensitive areas on her body and Reese stimulated her to the point of combustion.

“When was the last time you were properly fucked in living color?”

“Never.”

“Tell me what’s so exciting about seeing yourself getting fucked.”

“Everything.”

She licked her lips, straining against the ties. He hadn’t moved toward her but stood next to her and looked sideways at the mirror, where they both watched her breasts pierce the air when she arched and writhed.

Reese walked to the other side of the bales so that he looked directly into the camera and could see both of their images reflected there.

“Watch, Frankie,” he whispered as he knelt down beside her. She turned her head and caught his gaze in the mirror. A flush stampeded across her skin, leaving goose flesh in its wake. Reese laughed low. “Can’t wait, can you?”

She twisted, her wrists pulling against the fabric binding. Reese slid a large hand over the small of her back, his gaze never leaving hers in the mirror. Stretched out as she was, the indentations of her ribs stood out. His fingertips traced each one, beginning at the one nearest her waist. His fingers brushed the bottom swell of her right breast and she strained, the points sitting up high.

“Your tits are magnificent.”

Not taking his eyes from hers, he lowered his mouth to the back of her rib cage and ran his tongue the length of her back. She strained against the ties, wanting to turn, to feel his mouth clamp down on her breasts. His lick turned into a kiss and his kiss into nibbles. The waistband of her jeans stopped his downward trail. His hand slid around to her hips and Frankie trembled. Her thighs parted.

“Not so fast,” he whispered against her skin. His hand slid around to the front, to her fly and lower. Then he pressed his open palm against her mound. Frankie moaned and jerked against the pressure.

“Reese,” she moaned, “take my pants off.”

His mouth trailed to her neck, nibbling, teasing, tormenting. She couldn’t arch high enough, demanding in her bound state he touch her more thoroughly.

Reese had his own ideas. His hand rested on her mound, rubbing slowly, painfully slow across her, and when he bit into the soft flesh behind her ear, Frankie felt like she was going to faint. Her nether lips swelled, her pussy throbbed, moisture made her ready. Reese’s hand moved faster and more firmly.

Her hips twitched in rhythm. His right hand slid beneath her shoulders and around to cup her breast while his hand swept her into an orgasm. His lips never left her neck.

Wide-eyed, her mouth gaping for air, Frankie watched Reese play her body, the thrill of watching herself come at his hand more intoxicating than any drug. She gasped and pulled hard against the binding, the fabric tightening, but she needed to; the pressure building up in her body needed release.

“Now, Frankie,” Reese hoarsely demanded against her neck before he sunk his teeth into her flesh. She screamed, her orgasm opening her up like a rose blooming in fast forward. Her hips jerked against his hand, and his finger tortured her nipple.

She closed her eyes, savoring the delicious racking sensations coursing through her body. His hand slowed, his lips loosened, his hand on her breast relaxed. She wanted more.

Reese moved away, and Frankie opened her eyes, feeling exposed. “Untie me.”

He shook his head no and reached down to the corner behind her head. She heard the uncorking of a bottle, then the slow, sluicing pour of liquid. Reese held up a glass of deep red wine and took a long sip. He held it out to Frankie. She lifted her head and he tipped the glass for her to sip. When she pulled her head back, he trailed the bottom of the glass down her jaw and throat, then between her breasts, where he tipped the glass; warm wine sluiced between her breasts, then down her sides. She jerked against the bindings.

“Sorry,” Reese whispered. “Let me get that.”

He set the empty glass in the straw and licked what was left from her skin, being sure to get each straining nipple. Frankie twisted, wanting to give his mouth more of her, but he toyed with her, giving her just enough of his mouth to leave her wanting.

She almost cried in relief when she watched his hand slide down to the top button of her jeans. She raised her hips, offering him help he didn’t need. “Not so fast, Frankie.”

“Yes, fast, please, Reese.”

His hand stopped and his eyes caught hers in the mirror. “Please,” she said, “hurry.”

“Hurry?” His fingers unbuttoned the second button, and he slipped a finger between the fabric and her skin. “Your skin is on fire, Frankie.” He traced a short path of kisses along her throat. “I bet you’re wet too.”

He slid his fingers back to her belly, and she whimpered. He unbuttoned the third button, and then the fourth. “One more button, Frankie, one more button to your hot button.”

He slipped his hand down her belly, touching her soft, damp curls. The tip of his middle finger tapped her hardened clit and she gasped. “Oh, Reese.”

His breath blew hot against her skin. “You are so hot and so wet, I could slide right into you.”

She pressed her hips against his finger. “Inside, Reese.”

Reese focused on the here and now, not the future. Here and now was Frankie — hot, bothered, and sexier than any woman had a right to be. The future? He pushed thoughts of it out of his brain. Tonight he would pretend they’d ride off into the sunset tomorrow.

He slid his hand down further, finding her lips warm, swollen, and wet. He inserted his fingertip into her and moaned as she hissed in a deep breath. Her scent wafted up to his nose and Reese tamped down his urgency to strip her and take her from behind. His dick swelled to capacity and he found it more than difficult to keep his pace slow.

He wanted to devour her, to consume her, to ingest her, and then do it all over again. Her scent called to him, and his lips trailed down her belly, lingering at her belly button. Her smooth, silky skin was addictive, her hip bones cradles for his hands. He pushed her pants down further, exposing more of her. He rubbed his nose across her soft, downy fur, inhaling her sex. Frankie’s soft, sexy moans brought his blood to boiling. He pulled her jeans down to just above her knees, her pussy glistened with desire. He blew hot breath across her hard nub.

She gasped, gulping for air. “Reese.” Her hips twisted, her back arched, her body writhed.

His tongue lapped lightly at her clit. “How bad do you want it, Frankie?” he whispered across her damp curls. Her body twitched; he looked in the mirror and found her eyes riveted to him. He smiled and in a long, deep lap he dug his tongue into her. It was what she craved. She cried out and her hips shook.

“Oh, God, Reese,” she moaned, “I need more now.”

“How much more?”

“All of you, please, don’t torture me.”

He pulled her jeans down a bit further. “How is this?” he softly asked, sliding a finger slow and deep inside of her. Her vaginal muscles clamped around him, pulling him deeper inside.

“That feels so good.”

“I know.”

He slid his finger in and out in a slow, seductive rhythm, the soft slurp of her juices exciting him. He laid his head down on her belly, his lips just inches from her pussy. He caught her eyes before he buried his face between her thighs.

A sharp, hard orgasm ripped through her, and Frankie felt like an invisible force had grabbed her, picked her up, spun her around, then slammed her into earth. She wanted to open her thighs and give Reese more room, but her jeans at her knees kept her immobile.

When he slid in a second finger and sucked her clit, she came undone. Wildly she bucked against him. Her hands had gone numb, and for the first time in her life she felt completely and utterly out of control.

Wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her body, and she still wanted more, it wasn’t enough. She wanted a connection with him that only intercourse could give her. As she twisted away from his mouth, his fingers slid from her. “I want you, Reese, not your fingers, not your mouth.”

He sat back and caught her eyes in the mirror. Her long body drew taut in her excitement, tits firm, high, and lush. In all of his years of whoring, in all of his years of womanizing, in all his years of bed hopping, he couldn’t remember being so attracted to a woman as he was to Frankie. She exuded sex and she wanted him. Her dark eyes beckoned him, promising him the ride of his life. Or the ride to end his life.

Reality hit him square in the chest.

Roughly he pulled her pants down to her ankles, then yanked off her shoes; her pants followed. She licked her lips in anticipation.

He jerked his shirt over his head and kicked off his boots. His eyes held hers as he unbuttoned his jeans. He didn’t take them off, only pushed them down to his thighs.

Roughly he slipped his arm beneath her waist and twisted her over so she was face-down in the blankets. She cried out, surprised. He pulled up her hips, settling his hands on each side of her hips. The smooth, round curve of her hip bones fit his hands perfectly. He spread her thighs with his right knee.

He spread her cheeks with his hand and turned her hips up, her pink, wet lips glistening in the lantern light. He glanced at the mirror to see his dick jutting up hard at her ass. From between the thick strands of her hair, he knew she watched too. He bent over her, his dick sliding up between her ass cheeks. She moaned and pushed back. He swept her long hair from her face and trailed his fingertips down her throat to her breasts. She arched her ass, rubbing against him.