I felt both relief and an odd disappointment mixed at his explanation. “Oh, you mean James, my agent?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Clearly, Steve was losing interest and was busy sliding the hammer back into his leather tool belt. I took a look at his lean hips sporting the manly accessory and felt my center get embarrassingly warm. He looked up suddenly, his sharp features shadowy. His eyes, clear and blue as the sky during the day that I never stayed awake for went up and down my form. The tip of his tongue slid out to run slowly over his plump lips. “You should go put on some pants. The mosquitos will eat you alive.”
As I watch his broad, plaid-covered back walking away from me, I had the overwhelming desire to throw a rock at him. Just nail that arrogant son of a bitch right between his shoulder blades. He’s such an asshole.
Such a stupidly hot asshole.
I’m slamming pots and pans in the kitchen, crossly making a big dinner because I was so ready to drown my sexual frustration in cabernet and beef stroganoff. My eyes kept moving back to where I knew the sensors were, but the area surrounding the cabin stayed dark. I should feel better now, right? If it’s dark, there’s nothing out there. Why did that seem completely back-asswards?
Taking the stroganoff and wine out to the porch, I settled myself in one of the huge, comfortable chairs with a red and blue plaid woolen blanket over my legs. My gaze is set on the woods, and I eat my meticulously prepared dinner without tasting a single bite. When the wine and a full stomach mellowed my pissy attitude, I leaned back, letting the faint sounds of night soothe me.
Unfortunately, I was now half-drunk, but that sometimes was the best way to write, even though my editor would not have agreed with that assessment. Settling my laptop next to me, I opened a new document.
She’d always preferred the sunlight, when it was hard to hide who you truly were, where the shadows couldn’t disguise all the ugly, cruel parts everyone tried to pretend weren’t there….
“Why are you out here? You should be inside, it’s not safe.”
Opening my eyes, I was unsurprised to see the little clearing around the cabin lit up like it was noon, with an aggravated Steve standing at the bottom of the steps, hands on hips and - yes, thank you! - no shirt again.
Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands. “Whatever, Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Cranky. The only scary thing I see in this yard is you.” I swallowed down a scream as he was suddenly in front of me, grabbing my laptop before it fell off the chair.
“You’re being a bad girl,” Steve said harshly, a frown marring that gorgeous face. “Everyone around you is trying to keep you safe, and you fall asleep on the porch? Why worry about your stalker? A bear will eat you.”
His face was so close to mine. I could smell the sharp bite of pine, something spicy, like a very expensive cologne, and an ... undefinable. Darker, mossy, smelling like earth and things forgotten. “Are you trying to keep me safe, Lumberjack Steve?”
That set him back on his booted heels, a slight grin hiding in his smooth beard. “Did … you just call me a lumberjack?”
“Lumberjack Steve,” I corrected, waving my hands a little vaguely. “It’s this whole look you’ve got going on.”
One huge hand went to the back of his head, absently smoothing his hair. “That’s new.” His gaze fixed on me again. “Are you going to be a good girl and go inside, or do I have to carry you?”
I knew I must really be dreaming, because I lean back, putting my arms over the back of the chair. “Make me.”
So, he does.
He swoops down in a second, his eyes are glowing again and his mouth is stretched into a feral grin, flashing white against his dark beard. Throwing me over his shoulder as I shriek in fear and excitement, Steve leaps lightly through the door and races up the stairs to my bedroom. Let it be said that I am sturdy. I have muscle. But this gigantic, gorgeous thing is leaping up the staircase like I’m no heavier than a pillow, and my midsection is bouncing rather painfully on his broad shoulder. But then I’m airborne and landing on my bed in a tangle of arms and legs and this dangerous, massive creature is on top of me, covering me completely.
“For someone who’s in so much danger, you have no sense of self-preservation, little girl.” Steve growled into my ear while yanking off my clothes, my soft cotton undies ripping under his fist.
The feel of the rough denim of his jeans on the thin skin of my inner thighs distracted me from any meaningful retort, though I noticed when I tightened my legs around his lean hips, they thrust forward, pushing his hard cock against me. I moaned a little when his mouth settled over mine, stroking and nibbling and forcing mine open with his tongue.
His lips were so soft … the only soft part of him, really. He grabbed the top of his shirt and pulled it off, and lifted his hips, shoving his cock back up against me in a considerate sort of way as he removed his jeans, already embarrassingly wet in the crotch. From me, totally my fault. When Steve’s mouth went to my nipple, I whimpered a bit.
He pulled back instantly, looking at my expression. “Shhh … we don’t have to do that tonight.” One long fingertip was circling my other breast, the areola, pushing a bit harder to turn that soft center into a pebble. “Not when there’s so many places to nibble you, little girl.”
He was hovering over me in one second, and then the next his bearded face was pressed between my spread legs, despite my startled protestations.
“Oh, my god Steve, wait! I-”
He was sucking on my lower lips, darting that agile tongue in and out of my channel and more alarmingly, I felt a hint, just the tip of a sharp … thing. Razor-sharp. That can’t be a tooth because it’s slicing into my thigh, into my femoral artery as two thick fingers burrowed greedily up my cunt and I let out a scream, well, I’d intended to scream, but the breath was knocked out of me the first time I came. My fingers dug into his hair, but instead of pushing him away, I felt my treacherous grasp pulling him closer to me, nestling him between my thighs with a blissful purr.
My eyes opened and stared up at the stars through the skylight. This was real. This wasn’t a dream. Steve Rogers, Irritable Handyman was doing something magical with those fingers of his but that was nothing compared to the intensity of his mouth on my inner thigh. I could feel his beard gently scratching against my swollen slit, one arm thrown over my hips to hold me down. It stung, it burned but I was still coming because of the combination of all of those things. The final touch was a long, slow swipe of what felt like an inordinately long tongue up the furrow of my center and circling my most sensitive parts with a slow, loud slurp. By then, all I could do was shudder blissfully, moaning a little.
The scrape of Steve’s beard moved up my stomach, between my breasts and then he was hovering over me. Those full, pink lips that had impressed my girl parts so much were shiny and dark. When he kissed me, thrusting his tongue roughly into my mouth I tasted the bright, sharp tang of new pennies and realized it was my blood.
“No…” I tried to turn my face away.
“Yes,” Steve countered, resting more of his weight on me, he eyed me, amused. “You don’t want to taste yourself? This is real, Aura. And you taste so good….” He drew out the last word, lids lowering as he ran his tongue over his wet lips, savoring the last traces of my blood.
