Jenna’s heart beat double-time, the sound thundering in her ears, drowning out her conscience and her fear. She slid her arms around his neck and gave in to the passion pounding through her. No more thinking. Just this. This man. And what he was doing to her.
With the purposeful slant of his lips. The tantalizing dance of his tongue. The strong splay of his hands at the base of her spine. The muscular wall of his chest crushing her breasts. The hardness of his thighs pressed flush against hers.
Yep, he was doing it all right. Silencing her objections. Stirring her passion. Turning her on so high and so fast that she started to think that maybe he was right. Maybe they should do this. Just this once. If she could satisfy the lust, then maybe she could think straight again.
His lips plundered hers, his tongue pushing deep to stroke and explore and leave her breathless. He pressed her up against the side of the building, her back flat against the cold tin. She felt the pulse of the music from inside, the vibration stirring her excitement.
And then he leaned into her, his body flush against hers, so that she could feel his excitement.
He caught the straps of her tank top, shoving them down her arms along with her bra straps, until the material sagged at her waist and her breasts spilled free.
Dipping his head, he caught one rosy nipple between his teeth. He flicked the tip with his tongue before opening his mouth wider. He drew her in and sucked until a moan worked its way up her throat.
He pinned her to the wall, pressing one hard thigh between her legs that forced her wider until she rode him. The denim seemed practically nonexistent between them in those next few moments as she rode him, and then it disappeared for real as he unfastened her jeans and shoved the material down her hips.
Strong fingers found her hot slit and she gasped. He inched deeper, opening her, pushing in, and a shudder ripped through her.
He shifted, moving and rubbing, working her as he caught her lips in a fierce kiss. His hand worked its magic, learning every secret as he plunged and played until she stiffened at the sudden rush of sweet sensation. A small cry ripped past her lips and a sizzling heat pulsed through her body as she grasped at the strong arms holding her tight. She floated for the next few seconds, the vibration of the music pounding the wall, keeping time with the throbbing in her body for a long moment before her eyelids finally fluttered open and she found him staring down at her, into her.
A rush of panic went through her and she turned, putting her back to him, desperate to understand the sudden fear, to escape it.
* * *
“Don’t,” he murmured, the one word shredding what was left of her resistance. “Don’t turn away.”
“I’m not. I’m making things more interesting.” She pressed her bottom against him in blatant invitation, and he was more than happy to oblige.
Strong fingers worked at the button on his jeans and then she felt the sag of denim. His erection sprang forward, hard and greedy, pushing against her for a split second before he pulled away.
“I need a condom,” he murmured, his voice yanking her back to reality for a split second.
Her breath caught, her body blazing, as he retrieved a condom and worked it on with a speed that said he knew his way around the bedroom, and every other place she could possibly imagine. Because he wasn’t some nice guy. He was as bad as they came. Dangerous.
The realization stirred a ripple of excitement, followed by another jolt of fear.
One that quickly drowned in a wave of heat as she felt the brush of knuckles against her backside as he positioned himself. His thick head nudged apart her slick folds and pressed into her just a fraction.
She closed her eyes against the slight pressure and caught her bottom lip. The pressure was so sweet as he stretched and filled her inch by decadent inch.
Slowly.
As if he knew just where to touch her and for how long. As if he knew her.
Her wants. Her desires. Her fears.
That her hopes and dreams were futile. That she would never be anything more than a wild child Tucker. That she didn’t want to be.
The notion struck and the word was out before she could stop it. “Harder,” she breathed, and he quickly obliged.
He filled her completely and her heart paused. The air lodged in her throat and her body throbbed, contracting around him, holding tight as if she never meant to let go. A tremor went through her and she fought to control the heat slip-sliding along her nerve endings, threatening her sanity and her control.
The hard tin vibrated against her fingertips, reminding her that she wasn’t just spiraling out of control. She was doing it far from the safety of four walls. Reality crept in, along with the sounds drifting from inside the honky-tonk. The music and the laughter and the voices.
The notion sent a burst of excitement through her and she stiffened.
“We can’t—”
“We are,” Hunter’s deep voice slid into her ears as his cock slid into her wet heat.
She closed her eyes, relishing the sensation all of five seconds before she heard a man’s unfamiliar voice.
Just follow me, darlin’, and we’ll head back to my place.”
Jenna felt Hunter’s muscles tense. Her eyes opened and her head snapped up in time to see the couple that stumbled around the side of the building and headed for the row of cars parked near the treeline out back.
“Screw that,” the woman murmured. “The backseat is just fine by me.”
Jenna held her breath as gravel crunched and metal creaked. The door slammed, but the voices still carried through the open car window.
And while Jenna couldn’t see anything thanks to a nearby dumpster that blocked the view, she could still hear them, which meant they could hear her.
The panting.
The moaning.
And damned if the notion didn’t excite her more than it should have considering she’d turned over a new life and given up her old wild and wicked ways.
The realization zapped her like a lightning bolt and she tried to pull away, but Hunter was there, surrounding her, filling her up, his voice as stirring as it was soothing. “You’re not scared of an audience, are you?”
“Who? Me?” She swallowed against her suddenly dry throat. “Of course not.” At least she’d never been scared before. She was bold, wild, bad.
But he wasn’t.
That’s what she kept telling herself despite his every touch which proved otherwise.
“I was just thinking that you might not be comfortable with this. You are the sheriff.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, but her words didn’t seem to slow him down in the least. One hand slid up her abdomen to her breast and he caught her nipple. He pinched the ripe tip until a burst of heat zapped her brain.
Her lips parted on a gasp. “I … I wouldn’t want someone to hear us. For your sake.”
“Don’t worry about me, sugar. I can handle myself.” He slid his left arm around her, his fingers skimming her rib cage as he caught her other nipple. Now both hands plucked and rolled the sensitive tips until her knees went weak. “But if you want me to stop…”
“Yes,” she managed a split second before he thrust into her. Still she caught the cry that curled up her throat and clamped her mouth shut as he started to move. “I mean, we really should.”
In and out. Back and forth.
“Now,” she added, but she didn’t pull away or tense up. Instead, she pressed herself against him and arched against his delicious touch.
The backseat action going on nearby soon faded into the beat of her own heart as she drew him deeper, held him longer. The seconds ticked by as the pressure between her legs built. Tighter and tighter. Until every muscle went taut and just like that, she started to unwind. Sensation drenched her and she exploded around him. Her head fell back into the curve of his neck and a groan worked its way up her throat.
Before she could bite her lip against the sound, his mouth covered hers as he moved faster and plunged harder, deeper, stronger. Convulsions gripped him. She milked him, her slick folds clenching around his throbbing penis until a growl sizzled across her nerve endings.
He buried himself one last time and leaned into her. The rough wall rasped her overly sensitive nipples and desire speared her again. Every nerve in her body sizzled. She closed her eyes, relishing the aftershocks of her release, which swept through her and kept the fear at bay for the next several moments. Until reality washed back in and she became aware of the jeans down around her ankles. The warm night air slithered over her bare skin and a car engine grumbled nearby.
* * *
Close.
So close.
So what?
The notion struck and she stiffened.
“I really need to go,” she blurted. “It’s getting late and I have inoculations tomorrow at the Garber farm.” She ducked underneath the arm to her left and put a few safe inches between them as she struggled with her clothes. “I, that is, it was nice. Thanks.” And then she walked away because the last thing she needed was for Hunter DeMassi to see the gratitude blazing in her eyes. The wonder. The damned happiness.
Because Jenna Tucker had had her first decent orgasm in a long, long time. And her second. And they’d both been fantastic.
Not mediocre. Or decent. Or nice.
But fan-freaking-tastic.
Of all the rotten luck.