Chapter Thirty-Five
The blood on his face should’ve disgusted May—it had Sam, that was for sure. But instead of turning away from him, she’d heated water and washed him with a tender gentleness that had made his heart hurt.
May, his May, was sharp and pointy on the outside and so soft on the inside.
“I want you,” he whispered against her lips. He didn’t know how to tell her what she meant to him—what he wanted her to mean to him. What they could be together. So he only repeated what words he had: “I want you.”
She didn’t reply, but she opened her mouth beneath his and that was answer enough for the moment. He took what she offered: the slick, soft inside of her mouth, her sharp teeth, and the tongue that slid against his.
He shoved his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer, and felt the short strands alternately soft and bristling, against his palms. Like her.
Like her.
His cock was pulsing against his zipper and he wanted her. He laid her down on Hopkins’s old carpet, shrugging out of his parka so she had something beneath her head.
She stared up at him, her eyes dark and mysterious, as he pulled off her boots and coat. She lifted her hips so he could tug down her jeans and the long underwear he’d lent her this morning. He smiled when he saw she was wearing sexy little red panties.
She sniffed, but then her eyes softened.
“Here,” she whispered, hushed, like a little girl telling a secret.
She unbuttoned the chambray shirt she wore, eyes lowered, a smile flirting with her mouth.
He couldn’t resist that mouth. He bent and kissed the corner, as she murmured in protest, “Wait a minute.”
But he couldn’t wait. He mouthed down the column of her neck as she fumbled with the buttons wriggling beneath him. He nearly laughed until her shirt parted and he realized she was wearing the tiny red bra that’d fallen out of her suitcase this morning.
He reared back to get a good look: May lying on his parka, waiting for him, wearing that sexy bra and a scowl on her face. The deep red of the bra made her skin look like new fallen snow—so pretty it made his eyes hurt.
He traced the upper edge of the bra where tiny little rhinestones sparkled. “My, my, Ms. Burnsey, what you wear beneath your clothes.”
She scowled harder. “I like nice things. There’s nothing wrong with—”
She gasped as he bent to run his tongue along her breast where it met the bra’s edge, and he smiled against her silken skin to think he’d made her lose her words. He followed the bra cup down between her breasts. There was a thin little cord holding the two cups together, and on it was a little silver bow. He caught it between his teeth and tugged gently, but it didn’t taste near as good as her skin, so he kissed back up the other breast, staying right outside the bra.
Her breasts quivered beneath his lips, warm and alive. That bra was pretty, all right, he couldn’t deny it, but when he palmed one breast all he felt was foam and nylon. He traced up the red strap, so thin and delicate, to where her collarbone winged into her shoulder.
“Sam,” she protested.
“Shhh,” he replied. No point in hurrying this, and besides, he kind of liked the idea of teasing her.
Just a bit.
He slipped one finger beneath the strap, pulling it down her shoulder until it hung, useless on her arm. He was amused to see that the bra cup on that side moved not a bit.
“Bet they have NASA scientists design these things.”
She blinked up at him adorably—though he was smart enough not to tell her. “What?”
“Never you mind,” he whispered, running his tongue experimentally beneath the cup.
It was warm in there and he could taste the salt of her skin.
He slid the other bra strap down, then pushed the bra down beneath her breasts, cupping them in his hands.
Her nipples were already drawn tight.
He bent to suck one into his mouth and felt his cock jolt against his jeans. He reached down and unzipped and unbuttoned himself, shoving his jeans down a bit to let his dick free.
May moaned and clenched her thighs around his left leg, and he realized that he had no condom.
“What?” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dazed.
“Nothing.” He moved to her other nipple. He’d just make do because he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop this.
He shoved his upper leg into her mound, grinding gently as he rubbed his bare cock against her thigh. He pulled back to look at her tits. Her nipples were a deep, rosy brown, gleaming wet in the firelight.
He took her hands and guided them to her breasts. “Pinch them for me.”
She bit her lip, looking shy for once as she did as she was told.
He watched for a moment, feeling his blood pounding, his breaths deepening, then he slid down her body. Her belly was so smooth, so soft, as he mouthed around her belly button. He framed her hips, feeling his need growing. He could smell her core, and he knew if he told her that she’d be horrified, but the truth was the scent of her made him horny as hell.
He caught the sides of her panties with his fingertips and dragged them down her hips and off her legs. She was wet already, the black curls sodden.
“C’mon,” he whispered, “make a place for me, darlin’.”
She spread her legs wide and he could see her pussy now, dark red and glistening, her clitoris swollen, and he grinned, fierce and feral.
He gathered her legs in his arms, scooping them over his shoulders, and cradled her ass in his hands.
He glanced up once to see her watching him, her hands still, and he shook his head, unable to smile. “Keep pinching yourself.”
She swallowed, her throat fluttering, and then he closed his eyes as he licked into the heart of May.
She moaned, and he felt the sound vibrate against his tongue. He kissed all around her clit, sloppy, openmouthed kisses that smeared her slick over his face. He was rutting against the parka on the floor as he licked her, driven half insane by her smell, by the sounds she made as he ate her out, by his own want building. Her legs were moving restlessly on his shoulders, and he gripped them tight as he drove into her center, tongue-fucking her. She went completely rigid, trembling all around him, and then she screamed.
God damn.
He let down her legs gently and knelt up over her, hastily smearing his right hand in her come before fisting his cock. She was moaning continuously, her fingers still twisting her nipples, as she lay before him, her legs sprawled, her pussy sodden, and he’d never seen anything in his life so hot. But it wasn’t until he saw the slit of her eyes, knew that she was watching him with his hand on his cock that he broke.
He bowed, the orgasm like a punch in his gut, and grunted, winded as his come streaked across her belly and thighs.
“God,” he gasped, half-falling on her. He fumbled to clean the mess he’d made of her. She must think him a complete jerk, but his hand touched hers and he looked up.
Her eyes were half closed, and she had a wicked little smile curling her lips as she licked her fingers. It took him a minute—wasn’t like his brain was functioning too well at the moment—but then he realized she was licking his come off her belly.
Jesus Christ, if he hadn’t just come, he would’ve blown.
He bent to kiss her and tasted his own semen on her lips, which was kind of gross, but really hot, too. “You’re going to kill me.”
May laughed, her eyes crinkling, her face flushed, and he knew suddenly that he loved her. That he always had loved her and always would love her until the day he died.
He kissed her laughing mouth, wanting to keep this moment forever.
When he raised his head she was watching him, a puzzled look in her eyes. “Sam.” She raised her hand and touched the side of his face. He wondered if she knew how much she revealed by that gesture alone—if she’d draw back if she knew.
Her hand dropped and the moment was gone. She shivered.
He got up and put himself back together then bent and picked up the pot of water. He went to the door and tossed it out before packing the pot with more snow.
When he turned, she was struggling with her bra.
He set the pot by the fire and knelt in front of her. “Here.”
“I can do it,” she snapped.
“I know.” He gently batted her hands aside and bent to kiss each nipple. Then he pulled the cups of her bra up over her breasts.
When he glanced up, she was watching him.
She hastily looked away and reached for her panties.
“Wait.” He grabbed one of the washcloths from the pile she’d brought out earlier and wet it in the melting snow. “Lay back down.”
She arched an eyebrow, but she did as he said. There was something he liked about May following his directions. She so rarely agreed with anything, the victory was all the sweeter when she did.
Carefully he wiped her thighs, ignoring her muffled exclamation. The water was cold, but he knew she’d appreciate it anyway. He washed her gently, this most delicate part of her. It made him feel good. Protective. When he was done he helped her into the shirt, socks, and long underwear again, but when he reached for her jeans, she shook her head.
“Leave them.”
He looked at her.
“Just…” She held out her arms to him.
He lay down next to her on the hard floor and gathered her into his arms. He’d never felt more at peace.
Then she turned her head to look at him and said, “Tell me about Afghanistan?”