Cherish Hard
Page 54
“Maybe.”
“I have my truck. The school?”
“God no” was the horrified answer. “You find us a nice, quiet spot.”
“I know just the place.” Sailor’s blood pounded with need, but if Ísa wanted a fantasy, he’d give her that fantasy.
He’d give his redhead everything she needed.
All she had to do was say the word.
* * *
ÍSA STARED AT HIM WHEN he brought his truck to a stop in front of his town house. Getting out without saying a word, he pushed open the garage, then drove the truck in before pulling down the garage door from the inside. There was a little light hanging from the ceiling that he turned on, but it didn’t do much to illuminate things.
“So?” he said to the woman he wouldn’t share with anyone, not even a glimpse.
Sliding out of the passenger-side door, she opened the door to the back seat and climbed in.
Sweet mercy.
He ran his hand over the lush curves of her as she got back into the truck, the ache in his groin a deep pleasure-pain. She made a breathy little sound before sitting herself down on the cracked leather of the seat. Holding his gaze, she dropped her hands to the bottom of her T-shirt and tore it over the top of her head.
Creamy skin.
The plump invitation of her breasts under mint-green lace.
Sailor was inside the truck with his hand on her breast before she finished dropping the T-shirt to the floor, his mouth on hers once again. Making that deliciously husky sound in her throat, she dug her nails into his back. His cock throbbed.
And he wanted more of her. All of her.
Dropping his hand from her breast to her thigh, he tugged down her pants.
When they caught on her tennis shoes, he tore them off and soon had one sleek leg wrapped around his waist, Ísa backed up against the other door. He felt like a great big cat about lick up his favorite meal. “Your skin is so deliciously smooth.” Like cream and sugar and all things nice.
Ísa shivered, her lips on his throat.
Groaning, Sailor put his hand back on her breast. “Your bra’s pretty.” Soft and feminine. “But I want it off.” Sailor wasted no time in making that happen. He was so hungry for her, so determined to brand her as his, that he felt eighteen again and not like a struggling business owner barely hanging on by his fingernails.
The only downside was that teenage boys weren’t known for their sexual stamina. And Ísa was his wettest dream. All opulent curves and gorgeous skin with nipples as pink as her lips. He had no hope in hell of resisting. Pausing only long enough to tear off his T-shirt so Ísa could touch him, he dropped his head and sucked one pouting tip into his mouth.
* * *
ÍSA’S BRAIN WASN’T MAKING MUCH sense right now. Her fingers clenched in the thick dark of Sailor’s hair, the heat of his body surrounding her as he did things to her breasts that made her thighs squeeze around his hard body. The hand he put on her other breast was callused, his skin in contrast to the firm wetness of his mouth.
She shuddered, found herself clawing his back in an effort to tug him up for a kiss.
“Hellcat.” A sinful grin as he released her aching, sensitive nipple to give her that kiss, deep and lush and erotically patient.
“Now,” he said with a scrape of his teeth over her lower lip, “let me get back to work.” With that, he dropped his head to her neglected breast while using his free hand to stroke her thigh.
When he began to pull down her panties, she knew this was it—the moment she either stopped him… or didn’t. And they got busy in a garage on a suburban street.
Turned out she was still feeling reckless and insane.
And young.
So wickedly, wildly young.
Teenage-girl-in-the-back-seat-of-her-boyfriend’s-truck young.
The mint-green lace of her panties was hanging around one of her ankles two seconds later. And he was stroking his hand up her leg and she shivered at the feel of his skin against her inner thigh. She would’ve screamed at his next touch, directly between her thighs, if he hadn’t clamped his mouth over hers.
Gripping at her hair with his other hand, he held her in place for his kiss while his fingers stroked and flicked and made her come so hard she trembled from head to toe.
“Oh, that was good,” he purred as if rewarding her.
She felt like telling him she’d already been rewarded. But her mouth wasn’t working quite right and she didn’t stop him when he hauled her across the seat so that she ended up in a half recline. He gave her no warning before he buried his face between her thighs.
Ísa’s back bowed, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the faded and weathered leather of the seats as Sailor pushed her over with a relentless male focus. This time her scream was so deep it was soundless. She heard a wrapper tear, knew he was getting ready to enter her.
Her exhausted inner muscles clenched in greedy readiness.
Strong hands cupped her buttocks, squeezed. “You with me, beautiful?”
Ísa pushed up on her elbows, met the blue of his gaze, and smiled. “Yes, my studly boy toy.”
Laughing in sinful delight, he bent to kiss her even as he thrust into her. The rest was steamy windows and dirty talk and a fantasy coming hotly true. And through it all ran a vein of terrifying joy. Because this felt right.
Dangerously, beautifully, heartbreakingly right.
31
The Cost of Dreams
THURSDAY WAS A HARSH RETURN to reality after five days beyond Sailor’s wildest dreams. Following that intense, sexy, fucking amazing interlude in his garage, he and Ísa had driven back to her place, fallen into bed… and stayed there for most of Sunday. He’d stroked and petted and marked up her delicate skin, and she’d been as possessive with his body.
Sailor was good with that. More than good with it.
Then Monday they’d had a private Christmas Eve celebration in the afternoon, sharing small gifts they’d secretly bought for one another. He’d found a pair of pretty earrings for her that looked like bunches of flowers falling from her ears—from her shining eyes, it looked like he’d gotten it right.
She’d given him a belt with an aged buckle that he already knew he’d wear the hell out of.
Fighting their desire to shut out the world, they’d gone in different directions after that private celebration, both having promises to keep. Sailor’s family was congregating at his paternal grandparents place ninety minutes out of Auckland, and he’d promised to go down early and help his gramps and grandma set up. Ísa, meanwhile, had given her scattered family orders to show their faces at her apartment for a family dinner.
“Next Christmas,” Sailor had promised as he kissed her goodbye, “we’ll do it together. Combine the clans.”
Gaze soft, Ísa had drawn him into another kiss instead of answering. And he’d known he hadn’t yet caught the mist, hadn’t yet convinced her to trust him with her heart. The thought haunted him even through the joy of the holidays, was still on his mind as he sat in his truck on his second day back at work.
He’d only taken Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off but hadn’t managed to see Ísa yet, as she and Harlow had driven down to Hamilton with Catie on Christmas Day. The two had returned this morning and both were back at work too.
He’d have his redhead in his arms again tonight.
He was planning the next step in his plan to convince her to be his when his phone rang. His gut clenched at seeing his loan manager’s name on the screen. Having just finished up the school project so he could focus fully on Fast Organic, he was still in his truck in the school parking lot.
“I have my truck. The school?”
“God no” was the horrified answer. “You find us a nice, quiet spot.”
“I know just the place.” Sailor’s blood pounded with need, but if Ísa wanted a fantasy, he’d give her that fantasy.
He’d give his redhead everything she needed.
All she had to do was say the word.
* * *
ÍSA STARED AT HIM WHEN he brought his truck to a stop in front of his town house. Getting out without saying a word, he pushed open the garage, then drove the truck in before pulling down the garage door from the inside. There was a little light hanging from the ceiling that he turned on, but it didn’t do much to illuminate things.
“So?” he said to the woman he wouldn’t share with anyone, not even a glimpse.
Sliding out of the passenger-side door, she opened the door to the back seat and climbed in.
Sweet mercy.
He ran his hand over the lush curves of her as she got back into the truck, the ache in his groin a deep pleasure-pain. She made a breathy little sound before sitting herself down on the cracked leather of the seat. Holding his gaze, she dropped her hands to the bottom of her T-shirt and tore it over the top of her head.
Creamy skin.
The plump invitation of her breasts under mint-green lace.
Sailor was inside the truck with his hand on her breast before she finished dropping the T-shirt to the floor, his mouth on hers once again. Making that deliciously husky sound in her throat, she dug her nails into his back. His cock throbbed.
And he wanted more of her. All of her.
Dropping his hand from her breast to her thigh, he tugged down her pants.
When they caught on her tennis shoes, he tore them off and soon had one sleek leg wrapped around his waist, Ísa backed up against the other door. He felt like a great big cat about lick up his favorite meal. “Your skin is so deliciously smooth.” Like cream and sugar and all things nice.
Ísa shivered, her lips on his throat.
Groaning, Sailor put his hand back on her breast. “Your bra’s pretty.” Soft and feminine. “But I want it off.” Sailor wasted no time in making that happen. He was so hungry for her, so determined to brand her as his, that he felt eighteen again and not like a struggling business owner barely hanging on by his fingernails.
The only downside was that teenage boys weren’t known for their sexual stamina. And Ísa was his wettest dream. All opulent curves and gorgeous skin with nipples as pink as her lips. He had no hope in hell of resisting. Pausing only long enough to tear off his T-shirt so Ísa could touch him, he dropped his head and sucked one pouting tip into his mouth.
* * *
ÍSA’S BRAIN WASN’T MAKING MUCH sense right now. Her fingers clenched in the thick dark of Sailor’s hair, the heat of his body surrounding her as he did things to her breasts that made her thighs squeeze around his hard body. The hand he put on her other breast was callused, his skin in contrast to the firm wetness of his mouth.
She shuddered, found herself clawing his back in an effort to tug him up for a kiss.
“Hellcat.” A sinful grin as he released her aching, sensitive nipple to give her that kiss, deep and lush and erotically patient.
“Now,” he said with a scrape of his teeth over her lower lip, “let me get back to work.” With that, he dropped his head to her neglected breast while using his free hand to stroke her thigh.
When he began to pull down her panties, she knew this was it—the moment she either stopped him… or didn’t. And they got busy in a garage on a suburban street.
Turned out she was still feeling reckless and insane.
And young.
So wickedly, wildly young.
Teenage-girl-in-the-back-seat-of-her-boyfriend’s-truck young.
The mint-green lace of her panties was hanging around one of her ankles two seconds later. And he was stroking his hand up her leg and she shivered at the feel of his skin against her inner thigh. She would’ve screamed at his next touch, directly between her thighs, if he hadn’t clamped his mouth over hers.
Gripping at her hair with his other hand, he held her in place for his kiss while his fingers stroked and flicked and made her come so hard she trembled from head to toe.
“Oh, that was good,” he purred as if rewarding her.
She felt like telling him she’d already been rewarded. But her mouth wasn’t working quite right and she didn’t stop him when he hauled her across the seat so that she ended up in a half recline. He gave her no warning before he buried his face between her thighs.
Ísa’s back bowed, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the faded and weathered leather of the seats as Sailor pushed her over with a relentless male focus. This time her scream was so deep it was soundless. She heard a wrapper tear, knew he was getting ready to enter her.
Her exhausted inner muscles clenched in greedy readiness.
Strong hands cupped her buttocks, squeezed. “You with me, beautiful?”
Ísa pushed up on her elbows, met the blue of his gaze, and smiled. “Yes, my studly boy toy.”
Laughing in sinful delight, he bent to kiss her even as he thrust into her. The rest was steamy windows and dirty talk and a fantasy coming hotly true. And through it all ran a vein of terrifying joy. Because this felt right.
Dangerously, beautifully, heartbreakingly right.
31
The Cost of Dreams
THURSDAY WAS A HARSH RETURN to reality after five days beyond Sailor’s wildest dreams. Following that intense, sexy, fucking amazing interlude in his garage, he and Ísa had driven back to her place, fallen into bed… and stayed there for most of Sunday. He’d stroked and petted and marked up her delicate skin, and she’d been as possessive with his body.
Sailor was good with that. More than good with it.
Then Monday they’d had a private Christmas Eve celebration in the afternoon, sharing small gifts they’d secretly bought for one another. He’d found a pair of pretty earrings for her that looked like bunches of flowers falling from her ears—from her shining eyes, it looked like he’d gotten it right.
She’d given him a belt with an aged buckle that he already knew he’d wear the hell out of.
Fighting their desire to shut out the world, they’d gone in different directions after that private celebration, both having promises to keep. Sailor’s family was congregating at his paternal grandparents place ninety minutes out of Auckland, and he’d promised to go down early and help his gramps and grandma set up. Ísa, meanwhile, had given her scattered family orders to show their faces at her apartment for a family dinner.
“Next Christmas,” Sailor had promised as he kissed her goodbye, “we’ll do it together. Combine the clans.”
Gaze soft, Ísa had drawn him into another kiss instead of answering. And he’d known he hadn’t yet caught the mist, hadn’t yet convinced her to trust him with her heart. The thought haunted him even through the joy of the holidays, was still on his mind as he sat in his truck on his second day back at work.
He’d only taken Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off but hadn’t managed to see Ísa yet, as she and Harlow had driven down to Hamilton with Catie on Christmas Day. The two had returned this morning and both were back at work too.
He’d have his redhead in his arms again tonight.
He was planning the next step in his plan to convince her to be his when his phone rang. His gut clenched at seeing his loan manager’s name on the screen. Having just finished up the school project so he could focus fully on Fast Organic, he was still in his truck in the school parking lot.
