The Lawson Boys: Marty (18 page)

She was
surrounded by heat, and then the heat that almost made her knees
buckle was by the hot, moist mouth so close to her ear as he
breathed softly, “You have no idea in what way I want you,
Belle.”

Hoo boy, that
just sent all sorts of vivid imaginings racing through her brain,
each one hotter than the last, more tantalising, more erotic, and
none of it helped by the sensation of his heat, scent and strength
surrounding her.

Marty Lawson
was more lethal than she’d ever imagined.

“You see, you
hot-tempered little firecracker,” he continued in that same silky
voice that promised all sorts of dark things, “I was worried about
you. I came to check that you were all right, imaging you crying
and upset. But surprise, I found someone else.”

What on earth
did he mean by that? Even as she thought it, she inhaled deeply,
unable to resist wallowing wantonly, just for a very short time, in
his nearness and masculine scent.

Talk about
weak-willed. She struggled to regain her senses, which was kind of
hard when his lips brushed her ear as he spoke, his warm breath
making her nerves tingle, his hard, muscled body making her feel so
soft and submissive and delicious. Closing her eyes, she tried to
centre herself.

Big mistake.
Now all her senses were trained on him.

“Know what I
found, Belle?” His whispered slid through her like liquid heat.

“Um…” She
struggled to even think coherently.

Those firm lips
brushed her ear again, making her tingle with every movement, every
moist breath. “I found a woman who is fiery and passionate and
hot.”

Her eyes popped
open. “What?”

“You think
you’re meek and mild, but underneath you’re a firecracker waiting
to go off.” His teeth grazed her ear, making her jump. “I felt your
fire back in the city, the first time we kissed. You were hot,
Belle.”

“I don’t…I
don’t know what you mean.”

“You do. And
that tells me something else.”

“What?” Her
breath caught as his hips nudged hers in a deliberate move.

“That tells me
that I’m the only one that has felt that fire.” One hard thigh slid
smoothly between hers.

He didn’t move
it any further, his knee rubbing against her leg, but it was enough
for her to feel…invaded.

Deliciously,
enticingly invaded.

Good God, a
simple little movement and she felt invaded? Either she really was
easy or Marty was an expert in seduction.

Oh wait, he
was
an expert in seduction.

That little
knowledge cleared the cobwebs of desire a little.

“Look, Martin,
I don’t know what you’re up to.” She refused to acknowledge how
husky her voice sounded. “But-”

“I came here to
check on you, I was concerned.” One big hand slid closer, his thumb
grazing over her little finger. “The thought of you crying made my
gut clench.”

Almost
hypnotized by the sensation of his thumb rubbing her finger, Belle
could only close her eyes.

“That’s never
happened before.” His voice was soothing now, stroking across her
tumultuous emotions, lulling her. “I’ve comforted crying women,
I’ve never liked to see one cry, but you, Belle Broune, you’re
different.”

She couldn’t
even float up through the languid sensations cradling her to reply.
His breath was warm on the side of her neck, his lips nuzzling the
pulse that pounded in her throat.

“The thought of
you crying made me want to gather you close, to protect you from
anyone who would dare to upset you, to hurt you. I couldn’t get you
out of my mind.” His thumb grazed higher, fingers following until
his calloused palm was cupping her arm and trailing slowly upwards.
“You refused to answer my calls, to ring me, so I finally came to
see for myself that you were okay.”

The trail his
palm left behind was hot, there was no other way to describe it.
Little sparks seemed to dance across her skin. Heat was pooling low
in her loins.

“And there you
were.” His hand trailed back down until he shackled her wrist in a
loose but definite hold, his other hand repeating his movements.
“Surprised to see me, not understanding. So sweet. At first.” He
nipped her throat and Belle was grateful that he was pressed
against her, keeping her upright, or she’d have fallen to her knees
right then and there. “But when I tried to explain you leaped to
the wrong conclusion.” He shackled her other wrist, his hold
firming on both. Not tight, but letting her know that he captured
her. “Telling me that you weren’t going to spread your legs for me,
that I thought you were a slut. You’re very lucky, Belle, that I
didn’t just turn you over my knee then and there.”

“What?” The
delicious cobwebs of sensation holding her captive started to
dissolve at the harshness of his words.

“You heard me.”
His tone still held a thread of steel, but it was tempered now with
a lap of velvet, seductive and dark. “But I’ll allow you that one
mistake because you’re going to have other things on your
mind.”

Outrage
peppered through the pleasant haze. “If you think you’re going to
get into my-”

“Don’t even go
there, Belle.” The words cracked like a whip. “Not like that.”

Now she started
to struggle. “Let me go! How dare you-”

He let her go
all right, but only enough to swing her around. Arched back against
the kitchen counter, her were hands braced back on it to keep from
falling backwards. But what really spun her senses was that his
position leaning over her allowed his much taller frame to press
against her, chest to breast, hips to hips, long legs entangled
with her shorter ones, his hands on her waist.

The position
was tantalising enough, but combined with the carnal heat in his
eyes it was a fiery combination. Belle could only gape up at him.
No one -
no one
- had ever looked at her with such hunger,
such blatant lust, such pure, craven heat.

“Getting the
idea, Belle?” The words were a low, primal growl.

For the life of
her, she couldn’t form a single coherent word. Her heart pounded,
her skin tingled, and her panties were damp. Oh lord.

His big hands
slid around her waist until they rested in the small of her back
and with one sharp yank he jerked her up flush against his chest,
making her tilt her head back just so she could see his face.

His jaw looked
rock hard, his eyes gleamed with primal instinct, and his arms were
like hot brands around her. However, it wasn’t just his arms. Every
inch they were pressed together felt like it was going to start
smoking with the heat between them.

In place of the
laid-back, easy-going, handsome lothario she’d first met, stood a
man who exuded sexual heat, his charm more lethal, his carnality
bordering on dangerous - hot, heavy, almost aggressive.

It said a lot
for her that she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, ready to
be burned in the fire he promised.

His gaze
drifted over her face, his words low and husky. “You’re right in
that I want you, but not in the crude, cold way you think. Yes, I
want to be with you, in you, naked together.” His pupils dilated.
“I desire you. Crave you. You’re like a fire under my skin that I
can’t put out, and I believe that if we come together then that
fire is going to burn us both up, baby. Yeah, I want you. I want
you bad.”

The last words
were almost laughable except that when combined with the carnal
passion gleaming in his eyes, they were anything but hilarious. His
head dipped low, and lower still until his lips hovered just a
hairs breadth from hers. “And I’m going to have you.”

The words
hadn’t quite left his mouth before his lips claimed hers, pressing
against her, his tongue tracing her lips, dancing along it, teasing
her until she opened with a helpless moan, and then he swept
inside.

Sparks ignited
deep inside her, burning embers that flared out and sizzled deep in
her veins, heating her, and without thought she pressed close to
the man holding her, drinking from her, teasing her with not only
the thrust of his tongue but the rocking of his hips against
her.

Instinctively
she reached up, winding her arms around his neck, drawing him down,
arching up into him. Heavy muscles crushed her breasts and dimly
she was aware of something else, a small, hard bar that bit into
her. Reaching down between them to pull his shirt aside, the stud
buttons popped open until her hand pressed flat against his right
nipple. The small bar piercing his nipple rubbed coldly against her
palm as he pulled her closer, almost seeming to nestle his nipple
into her hand, and she rubbed lightly, the metal smooth and cold in
sharp contrast to the warm, male nipple.

Marty growled
his approval into her mouth while sliding a hand down to her
bottom, long fingers curling against her ample derriere, squeezing
and releasing, stroking. His hips jerked against her and she felt
his shaft, long, hard and thick against her belly, undeniable proof
that he desired her, wanted her in the basest way possible.

No match for
his expertise, she could only go with instinct, and that instinct
had her pressing into him, kissing him deep, sweeping inside his
hot mouth to taste him.

His flavour was
addictive, making her crave more, so much more, and she could only
cry out her disappointment when he pulled back suddenly, but just
as quick he turned her, pressing her forward against the kitchen
counter again. At the same time his hand swept beneath her skirt,
his other hand curved around her jaw, tilting her head back so he
could claim her mouth once more.

Bent over her,
he seemed bigger, taller, making her feel smaller, surrounded. At
his mercy.

He drugged her
with his kisses, stirred her desires with his fingers smoothing
across her bare stomach and down between her thighs. She couldn’t
even remember when her panties had disappeared, she only knew that
she was bare to his touch.

His oh, so
knowing touch.

His thigh
between hers kept her from involuntarily clamping her legs shut
when his fingers slid between the slick, plump labias, his fingers
seeking and finding the little hidden nub as though he’d done it to
her a hundred times. He seemed to know her body, strumming her,
stroking her, bringing her to a fever pitch that had her
unashamedly pressing her bottom back into him.

Her shirt was
open, her bra undone, his free hand palming one breast, massaging
it. The whole time he played her body, he never left her lips,
swallowing her moans, her cries, her gasps, licking at her honeyed
depths.

Hot, liquid
heat seeped from her and she pushed back into his stroking fingers,
only to gasp and come up on tippy-toe as one long finger slid deep
inside her.

“Easy, baby.”
Moist lips on her shoulder, a scrape of his tongue across her skin.
“So tight. So wet. So wet for me.” He drew his finger out partway
then thrust back in, adding a second finger, stretching her so
decadently. His hand left her breast, smoothing instead along her
spine at the small of her back. “That’s it, Belle, arch up for me.”
He nipped her shoulder, laved it with his tongue, trailed his lips
up the side of her throat as she moaned. “I love those little
breathless cries, baby.”

His fingers
turned, hooked, dragged down, and she nearly shattered at the
sensations that bloomed, threatening to overwhelm her, making her
arch her spine, throw her head back and push her bottom wantonly
against him, his hand cupping her as his fingers slid free.

“No, no.” She
gasped. “No, please. Please don't.”

“Don’t what?”
His fingers feathered over her clitoris in a touch so light, yet it
made her vision dim with sparks on the edges. “Tell me, Belle. Tell
me what you want.”

“I want…I
want…” She shuddered.

“Tell me.” His
mouth was at her ear, his tone demanding, dark with desire, heavy
with carnal heat.

“You. I want
you.”

He took her.
The shift of his hips, the rasp of a zipper, and then he was there,
his hot, hard length pressed to the entrance of her body, lodging
just inside. His hands settled on her hips, fingers biting as he
shoved partially inside her, his breath hissing out. “Oh Jesus,
you’re so tight. So bloody tight.” Another flex of his hips and he
slid deeper. “So wet for me.”

His thick
length, steel wrapped in velvet, slid deeper still, filling her,
stretching her, and she could only strain upward, push back, moan,
pleading for more.

He gave her
more, pulling out until he was nearly unsheathed, leaving her
suddenly empty before he slid deep up to the hilt inside her,
making her breath rush out, her fingers grip the counter edge,
knuckles white.

“So good.”
Marty growled it, his hands tight on her, holding her still as he
started to pump in and out of her, the muscles of his thighs
flexing, bunching, so hard against the inside of her thighs.

So damned,
deliciously hard.

His shaft was
thick, long, pushing through her sheath which clasped him, her
muscles clenching down on him each time he withdrew, and she was
rewarded by his hiss of pleasure.

Caught up in a
storm of sensations, fire building inside her, every nerve
seemingly centered deep down where his shaft filled her, claimed
her, Belle was a prisoner for his desire, unable to do anything but
take what he gave, her body open to his, helpless against his
erotic invasion.

His thrusts
became faster, harder, and he shifted suddenly, one hand leaving
her hip to reach over and grab the other side of the counter, the
change of position making him come down over her, his chest to her
back, the small, metal bar piercing his right nipple rubbing along
her skin in a erotic drag.

His free arm
curved around her waist, dropped lower until he encircled her hips,
holding her securely as he pumped shorter, harder, withdrawing only
a little before pumping back in. His every breath was harsh, warm
against her temple, his skin so hot, even the nipple piercing
warming between them.