Nauti Dreams (Nauti #3)

Nauti Dreams (Nauti #3) Page 24

She had run from him, because she couldn’t face losing him. He’d figured that out about her. Knew it about her. Just as she surely knew he wouldn’t allow her to run any longer if she ever returned to Somerset.

The running was over.

“Natches, this isn’t a good idea.” She was thinking. He could feel her thinking.

His lips moved to hers. He sipped at her lips as a breathless moan passed them. He stroked them with his tongue as he nearly tore his shirt from his own body. He caught that lush lower curve between his lips and laved it, nipped at it, and watched her lashes flutter over eyes gone dark with hunger.

No thinking right now, he decided. That sharp little mind of hers needed to rest; it needed to be stroked and loved, tempted and teased. And he was just the man to do it.

He loosened her belt, aware of the weight of her weapon at her hip, and almost grinned at the thought of it. His woman was a tough little warrior. She would walk by his side. She wouldn’t put up with his moods, and she’d tell him like it was. Always. The thought of it turned him on even more. She was a fitting mate for the darkness inside him, because she lightened it.

He released her jeans, slid the zipper down, and, as he released her lips, slid his palm beneath her panties to the sweet, rich flesh beyond.

So hot it almost burned. Swollen, slick with her sweet juices. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her again. Of burying his tongue inside her, and lapping at her like hot, delicate candy. Like nectar. Like life itself.

“There, baby, let me have you,” he urged as she shook, trembled, her nails digging into his shoulders as he held her to him. “Remember how good it is? How hot?”

He worked her jeans and panties over her hips, careful to keep in contact with the wet folds between her thighs, his finger caressing, his palm grinding against her clit.

And she was burning for him. Her hips shifted, moving against his hand, grinding her clit against his hand as he eased her to the bed.

Her cry of protest flamed through him as he moved his hand, but the taste of her exploded against his tongue as he pressed a kiss against the swollen little nubbin of her clit.

As he kissed, licked her gently, he worked her boots from her feet and finished undressing her. When she was soft and hot and naked, stretched across his bed and immersed in her arousal, he paused long enough to jerk his boots off and finish undressing himself. When he turned back to her, his sensual little kitten was on her knees, gold eyes glittering with hunger now, her features flushed, desire raging in her eyes.

This was the woman he dreamed of. The woman who had taken him to heaven that night so long ago.

His head went back as she came over him, her lips on his, her hands sliding over his damp shoulders, nails raking as he ran his hands up her back and prepared to hold on for the ride.

He remembered Chaya, wild and hungry, too long ago. He had ached for that woman, needed her as he’d needed nothing else, tempted and teased her, and here she was. The balm to the wounds that had festered inside his soul.

Chaya felt Natches ease back on the bed for her, felt his hard, muscular body laid out for her, hers for the taking, and it was like coming home. Like being in the cold and then sinking in front of a fire that filled the soul.

Natches’s fire filled her soul. And he offered it to her willingly. A sacrifice to the unbearable hunger raging inside her now, untamed, breaking free of the fear that had housed it for so many years.

Oh God, how had she stayed away from him? Five years. She had been without him for five years and each day had been an eternity of need and loss that she hadn’t realized, until now.

“God, Chay,” he growled, a deep, rough sound that stroked her senses as his hands stroked her back. “There you go, baby. Come to me.”

She nipped at his lips, caressed them, and let him devour her. He didn’t let her control the kiss; he never would, she knew. He was powerful, dominant, but he gave his body freely, and tonight she intended to take. And take.

She trembled at the thought of taking all of him. Of giving all of herself. And she knew that was exactly what she was doing, giving herself.

Lifting her head she stared down at him, at those wild green eyes, the way his thick black hair fanned out from his savage face. The way the muscles flexed in his shoulders and arms, the perspiration that trailed down his neck. And she had to taste it.

She lapped at it with her tongue, filled her senses with the taste of him, and gloried in the sound of that rough male groan.

“I missed you.” The whimpering sob shocked her as it fell from her lips, pressed to his flesh. “Oh God, Natches. I needed you. I needed you until I burned. Until I thought I’d die without seeing you, hearing you.”

His hands flattened on her back, held her closer.

“I was right here, baby.”

Right here. In his bed, waiting for her.

Sleek and hard and hungry.

Her lips slid from his neck to his chest, feathered over hard male nipples before her teeth raked first one then the other. He jerked beneath her, and she thrilled at the evidence of his pleasure.

Another thing he gave her freely, his pleasure. She didn’t have to worry about how to please him, because every touch she had ever given him, he had urged her on, relishing it.

“Ah, Chay, sweet baby.” His hands slid to her sides, to the curve of her breasts, and the backs of his fingers caressed them with subtle heat.

He wasn’t stingy with his touches or his words.

Chaya luxuriated in the generosity. His heat, the friction of his hair-roughened male chest against her swollen nipples. The feel of his muscles tightening, his breath rasping in his lungs as her lips slid lower.

She took quick, heated kisses down the center of his body, moving with slow, delicate greed to the thick, steel-hard shaft that reached up his lower stomach, eager for her touch.

Natches shifted, his hands pulling at her hips as her head went lower. And she remembered that. Remembered how she had taken him in that humid little room in Iraq. The night her tears had mixed with her release, and they had drunk from each other.

She tasted the head of his cock, her tongue licking over it, curling around the engorged crest as the shaft jerked in response.

Natches lifted her leg as she slid into position, pulling her hips over his face and blowing a heated breath against the wet folds of her sex.

A whimper fell from her lips, because she knew what was coming and she couldn’t wait. She lowered herself to him, feeling his tongue slide through liquid heat and tender tissue to burrow inside her vagina. Her lips opened over the head of his cock, her hands stroked the heavily veined shaft and Chaya let herself be taken, even as she took.

She worked her pussy on the thrusting tongue tormenting her with wicked pleasure. And with her mouth, she tormented in turn, crying out with delight, with need that bordered on pain.

His hands stroked over her rear, between the full curves, and teased the delicate flesh there as he worked his tongue through the slit of her pussy, circled her clit, and rubbed at it erotically. Stealing her mind.

She couldn’t allow him to steal her mind. Not yet. She needed to stroke him, touch him. She needed to pour the past five years of loss and loneliness into every touch. Then she needed to take him as she had dreamed of taking him. Riding them both into ecstasy.

Before he could stop her, not that he tried hard, she swung away, lifting herself from his lips despite his growl of displeasure and her own aching regret.

She couldn’t touch him as she wanted to if he stole her strength as she was doing so. When Natches touched her, she melted. Tonight, she wanted him to melt.

And Natches was melting. He stared down his body, strung tight with the most incredible pleasure. Pleasure that went beyond pleasure and bordered on agony of sensations. Chaya knelt above him, straddling one hard leg, rubbing the slick heat of her pussy against it as she worked her mouth on his cock head.

Sucking and licking, moaning in pleasure as her honey gold eyes darkened further and glittered with the needs rising inside her.

God he loved this. Seeing her like this. The agent disappeared beneath the woman’s demands as those demands took over.

She sucked greedily at his cock head. Her hands stroked the shaft of his erection and his balls as they drew up tight at their base.

He was in an agony of sensation now. Her hands were silken heat, her nails rasping, her mouth. . . . Sweet heaven, her mouth was like ecstatic fire licking over his flesh as her heated, wet pussy rubbed against his leg.

She was pleasuring him as she pleasured herself. Taking him and twining deeper into his soul as she did so.

Chaya lost herself in each touch, in each taste of Natches’s hard body. As though she had been born for this, to belong to him.

Drawing back she licked the hard crest one last time before allowing her tongue to taste the thick, silken shaft. Heated iron met her lips, silken heat stretched tight. Heavy veins throbbed with anticipation just beneath the flesh, and with each lick, she swore his cock grew harder, pulsed harder.

“You’re killing me.” His voice was graveled, thick and rasping as she kissed the base then licked the tightly drawn sac below.

He flinched, jerked, and moaned hard and low.

Chaya clenched her legs around the hard thigh rubbing against her pussy and knew she was drowning in this pleasure. She was sinking into a sensual storm and had no idea how to save herself. She didn’t want to save herself. She wanted to ride the waves. She wanted them cresting over her, surrounding her, swamping her.

She lifted her head and dragged herself over him, embracing his muscular hips with her thighs and lowering herself onto the rigid, heated flesh rising to her.

“There, Chay. That’s it, sweetheart; take me. All of me, Chay. It’s all yours.”

She stared into the narrowed bands of green as he watched her, his expression twisted into lines of savage lust and determination.

She couldn’t keep from sobbing at the pleasure. The feel of him penetrating her slowly, taking her as his hands moved up her back, down her arms, then his hard fingers linked with hers.

“Take me, Chay,” he demanded. “This ride is all yours, baby.” He was barely buried inside her, his cock throbbing, eager to take her.

“Ride me, Chay, like we’ve both dreamed.”

She straightened, flung her head back at the incredible pleasure racing through her, and she took him. Slow and easy, then with quick, shallow strokes. Her hips twisted, rose and lowered and she lost that final piece of herself.

Nothing mattered but the pleasure. Nothing mattered but the sensation of flying within his embrace, knowing he was there to catch her if she fell, that he would hold her if she faltered, and he would give her the reins when she needed them.

She needed them now.

Holding on to his hands she took him to the hilt, feeling all that wild heat and hardness penetrating her, stretching her, a burn that was pleasure and pain, and she gloried in it.

She twisted against him, and she rode him as he lifted beneath her, driving his erection deeper and harder inside her. Perspiration gathered between them. It rolled down her shoulders, ran in rivulets down his chest. Slick and heated they clashed together, twisting and thrusting, strokes that speared straight to her soul as the driving rhythm grew, deepened, heated until she was exploding, flaming out of control and screaming out his name.

Deep wracking shudders jerked her body tight as her womb spasmed, her vagina convulsing, milking around him as his hard, throttled shout was followed by the deep, heated spurts of his seed inside her.

Chaya’s eyes jerked open, met his and locked. She felt his cock jerk inside her, felt each pulse of his release, and felt her body heat and shudder further at the feel of it. That final hard orgasm rippled through her as his gaze held hers, as his soul wrapped around her. Forcing her to see, to know, nothing in life could be as good as right here, in his arms.

As the final, desperate tremors washed through her, she sank slowly against his chest, just fighting to breathe, to make sense of the woman she became when Natches touched her. Because it wasn’t the woman she had known before she met him five years ago.