M Leighton - Some Like It Wild

“How is that possible?” I ask before he can speak.

His brow wrinkles. “How is what possible?”

I’m not even sure I know what I was asking. How can he make me feel this way, how can he make my body do what it just did, how can he still be hard after all that—I don’t know how to be more specific.

“This?”

He smiles, his eyes twinkling down into mine, and he kisses the tip of my nose. My heart melts, bringing with it a prickle of unease that I push to the side for later examination. “Hell if I know, but I can tell you I’m dedicated to finding out and doing my best to duplicate it.”

He runs his lips along my jawline as he flexes his hips. I feel the pang of something waking in the lowest part of my belly.

“You can’t be serious,” I whisper, using all my strength just to keep my eyes open.

“Oh, but I am,” he says, pulling out and thrusting back into me. A wave of awareness steals my breath. Again. “But you need to rest a little first.”

As sweetly as anything I could ever imagine a good man being capable of, Jake withdraws from me and rolls to the side, bringing me into the curve of his body.

“Jake, I—”

“Shhh,” he interrupts, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “Relax. Enjoy the sun. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

I’m tired, yes. And I could probably use a little rest, yes. But not right now, I’m more interested in the girl curled up at my side, sleeping naked in the grass. The one who just rolled enthusiastically from one orgasm to the next. The one who let me devour her in the bright light of day, out in the open. The one who let me come inside her, and seemed to enjoy the shit out of it.

Can this be the same girl I kissed at the fair all those years ago? The same girl who blushes if I stare at her too long? The same girl who never curses? The same girl who probably never even had more than that one sip of wine until I put a purple people eater in her hand? What a very perplexing, yet very welcome walking contradiction.

I knew she had a little fire to her. Probably buried deep down, something she was raised to squash or ignore. And I knew she was itching to take a little stroll on the wild side. Or maybe just at the edge of the wild side. But I didn’t expect this. I mean, damn! I want her again already. Right this second. My cock acts like it’s seven a.m. on a Saturday morning after a two-month dry spell.

I hope to all hell that she doesn’t get attached and ruin this for both of us, because I could stand to have a little more of this coming my way over the next few weeks.

I glance down at her body—at the arch of her neck, at the curve of her hip, at the perfect pink nipple that I can barely see, peeking out from under her arm where she’s lying on her side—and my mouth waters. And my dick gets harder.

I’m debating waking her up the right way when she sighs and tilts her head up to pin me with her soft blue eyes. Judging by her expression, I know she still feels that lazy, bone-deep relaxed feeling that only comes after having some really good sex. And this sex? Sweet hell! It was that and then some!

But then they freeze, as if she suddenly remembers what happened. I watch her eyes round into Os nearly as large as the one her mouth makes. I hold my breath, not knowing whether to expect her to get up and walk out of my life forever or give me the coldest shoulder this side of Alaska.

True to what I’ve seen of her this far, though, instead, she surprises me.

“Can we do that again?” Air rushes from my lungs and my chest relaxes as a wide smile settles across her lips.

“Which part?” I ask, unable to help myself.

The blue of her eyes sparkle like stars in a midnight sky. “All of it.”

I find my own lips curving. “Hell yeah!”

“But maybe backward this time,” she says, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip in that shy way that I love. “Kissing . . . and . . . stuff first; jumping off the rock second?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” I murmur again as I roll my body onto hers and suck one delicious nipple into my mouth.

And then we do it all again.

Only backward.

It’s long past dark by the time Laney and I drag our tired asses up the stairs to my bedroom. “How ’bout a nice long, hot bath to ease any . . . sore places you might have?” I ask this with a mischievous wink because I know there’s no way on God’s green earth she’s ever had an afternoon like the one we just spent. As many “encounters” as I’ve had in the course of my life, I’ve never even had a day like today. To say it was spectacular would be a disgrace to the word spectacular. Makes me think it’s been far too long since I’ve had really good sex.

Surely that’s what it is.

“I can barely wiggle. I’ll come along if you’ll do all the heavy lifting,” she says, winding her arms around my neck and smiling charmingly up into my face.

“Don’t you start thinking you can use that beautiful face and this amazing body of yours to manipulate me,” I warn.

“Please,” she says coyly, rubbing up against me like a cat.

“Done,” I say, grinning at her. She laughs when I sweep her off her feet and carry her to the bathroom.

I set her on the counter while I run the bath full of extremely warm water. When it’s over half full, I strip, set her on her feet and do the same for her before we climb in.

“Aaah!” she squeals when the hot water hits her skin. She starts to hop back out, but I grab her arm to still her.

“Just give it a second. It only stings at first, then it’ll do great things for your muscles. And . . . other things.”

I sit down and spread my legs, holding my arms out wide for her to join me. When she does, she hisses.

“I didn’t need to be on the pill, did I?”

“Huh?”

“There’s no way a single sperm could possibly survive this. And obviously you’ve done it before.”

“Once or twice.”

After a few seconds, her voice sounds less pained. “So, is this a fetish?”

“Is what a fetish?”

“Luring unsuspecting women to your home and then boiling them.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad, drama queen. Besides, isn’t it worth it to share a hot bath with all this?” I say, curling my fingers in toward myself and giving her my cheesiest, most arrogant smile.

Boldly, she peruses me, which is kind of a turn-on when she lingers on my cock, which is nestled against her hip. “We’ll see. What about you? What’s a hot bath with me worth to a guy like you?”

I reach forward and pull her around and into my arms, her back to my chest, leaving her entire front open to my roaming hands.

“After today? Quite a bit, actually.”

I nuzzle the side of her neck, the scratch of my stubble sending chills down her chest and tightening her nipple. I feel my body jump against her ass where she’s sitting between my legs.

“Re-ally?” she purrs, tilting her head to one side to give me better access to her neck.

“Mmm.”

“Then maybe we can talk a little.”

I feel the sigh swell in my chest, but I hold it in.

Not this again.

“What do you want to know?” I ask after a long pause.

Laney says nothing for several seconds. Instead, she grabs a bar of soap and rolls it between her palms, creating a nice thick lather. She lays the soap aside and starts to wash one arm. I watch her begin at her wrist and make slow circles all the way up her arm to her shoulder. The closer she gets to her chest, to the curve of her breast, the tighter my entire body gets, like a clock winding up.

She’s too innocent to know what she’s doing will drive me crazy. My guess is that it’s the easiest spot to wash first, as nearly everything else is submerged.

That or I’m not giving her nearly enough credit.

“What was it like, growing up on the orchard? What was your family like?”

It’s an innocuous enough question, one that doesn’t overtly stimulate any touchy areas. I don’t mind answering if it keeps her doing what she’s doing.

“Not much different than most childhoods, I’d say. At least not around here. I played outside most of the day, climbed trees in the orchard, sometimes helped pick peaches, skipped rocks at the wide place in the river down by the northern border.”

“What were your parents like?”

“Just like regular parents. We ate meals together. Played games together. Watched television together.”

I’m mesmerized as I watch her soap her chest, her hands inching her way toward her breasts. “And then Jenna came along,” she says, letting her fingers play over the smooth, round globes.

“Yep,” I say almost absently, my eyes glued to her hands.

When she uses her index finger to ring her nipples, my breath hitches in my throat. My balls throb with the sudden need to lift her up and plunge her down on my cock, to watch that perfect ass of hers move up and down as she rides me.

And then she kills off my hard-on with one question, with the one question she’s been sneaking up to.

“Why do you think your father didn’t love you? It sure sounds like he did.”

“Laney, I told you—”

She cuts me off by whirling around in the tub to face me, her hands splayed across my chest and her eyes pleading with me.

“Please, Jake. Please talk to me. I want so much to be okay with this, but it’s . . . it’s just . . . it’s hard. I need to know you. At least a little bit. Just tell me something about your life here. Tell me something. Just a little bit.”