Blue Moon (Chapter 21)

I was supposed to land on top, where I could then crow victory and give in to my urges as a reward.

Instead I ended up on my back, Cadotte settled firmly between my thighs. I was winded; he wasn't even sweating.

"Tell me that you love me." I heard the laughter in his voice and I smiled, too.

"Kiss my –  "

His mouth covered mine. My brain melted as my body ignited.

It had been so long since I'd had sex, and I had never had sex that began like this. I was so excited I could barely keep myself from arching and coming right now. But I was tired of getting off with my clothes on. I wanted him, all the way, so I gave up fighting.

He kissed me forever. In my experience, limited as it was, guys don't waste much time on kissing, especially when they know they're on the fast track to something more.

But Cadotte seemed to like kissing. Hell, if I was that good at something, I guess I would have liked to do it all the time, too.

He nibbled at my lips, tasted me with his tongue, framed my face with his long, sexy fingers, stroking my chin with his thumbs, caressing my cheeks with his palms.

And he didn't stop with my mouth, giving equal and arousing attention to my neck, my eyelids, my ears.

I never realized that the insertion of a clever tongue into the bend of my ear could make me damp a whole lot farther south.

I explored the solid muscles of his back with my fingertips, then ran my nails over the quivering flesh at his side, before palming his extremely nice ass. It wasn't enough. I needed to feel naked skin against skin more than I needed to breathe.

"Can we take this to my room?"

He lifted his head from a teasing lick across the lace-covered peak of my breast. Dawn threatened; just enough light filled the room so I could finally see his face.

No more laughter, the need was as stark in his eyes as it was in my gut. Without a word, he got to his feet in a fluid, graceful motion and held out a hand for me.

I could have made a smart comment. I could have ignored his hand. I wasn't so far gone that I couldn't stand up by myself. But the loss of his warmth, even in the heat of a summer night, made me shiver.

I put my palm against his, let him bring me to my feet. Then hand in hand we entered my bedroom.

It wasn't much. A bed, a gun safe, a dresser. I slept there –  nothing more. Until now.

I had never brought a man into this room. The question of why not flitted through my head. I didn't answer. 1 had better questions to occupy my mind right now.

How quickly could I get him naked? How many times could he make me scream? Would he think I was weird if I asked him to tie me up and lick me all over?

My first question was answered without my saying a word. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and shucked his jeans one second later, He didn't wear underwear. Another mystery solved.

I was tempted to turn on the light so I could see him, but then he could see me, and that didn't tempt me at all. I was a big girl –  everywhere. I swear that naked, I looked even bigger.

I hovered just inside the doorway, suddenly unsure. He crossed the carpet in a sinuous movement that made me remember the loose-hipped gait of the big black wolf.

The image disappeared when he reached out and unhooked the front clasp of my bra with a flick of his fingers. My breasts, suddenly free, popped loose with a near audible thunk. I had no time to be embarrassed. He lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against the fullness, breathed in as if he could catch my scent, then shoved my shirt and bra off my arms and latched onto a nipple with a scrape of his teeth and a push of his tongue.

I'd read in some woman's magazine that the larger the breasts, the less the arousal a woman gains from them. Considering how guys worshipped women's chests and wanted to touch them in an ascending chart based on their size, I'd figured this was nature's idea of a hysterical joke.

But after reading said article, I'd been relieved. I'd always thought something was wrong with me. I could care less if a guy touched my breasts. Such pawing and panting below my neck had usually made me lose whatever interest I might have had.

Now I understood I'd been with the wrong guys. Ca-dotte knew what to do. Gentle and sure, he aroused me with tiny suckles, openmouthed kisses, and murmured words of praise. By the time he bent and lifted me into his arms, my knees had begun to sag.

"Hey!" The room spun as he strode to the bed. "I do not want to play kidnapped settler and Indian brave."

How rude, Jessie!

My mother's voice. Hell. I had to get rid of her.

Cadotte's laughter did it for me. "Maybe later."

He dropped me onto the mattress without warning and I bounced. At least that shut me up.

My arms reached for him. He stepped back. Worried I had insulted him, I lifted myself onto my elbows.

His gaze went from my face back to my breasts.

"You know, they're amazing." He brought his eyes back to mine. "And so are you."

My chest had been my curse since the age of twelve. Once 1 had breasts, my friends who were boys could no longer seem to forget I wasn't one, too.

Since then guys had been trying to get their hands on my breasts. I had been trying to keep them off. No one had called my breasts amazing. The nicest thing a man had said about them was that they were "fucking big."

But in Cadotte's dark, serene eyes I saw the truth. I was beautiful. At least until the sun came up.

He flicked a finger at my pants. "Take ' em off."

Happy to.

I kicked my boots across the room, lifted my hips, and slid the ugly tan trousers down my legs. My white cotton granny undies joined them. I might wear hooker bras, but I did not appreciate underwear that rode my crack like dental floss.

I lay on the bed and he towered over me. "Such soft skin." He trailed a finger up my knee. "Strong legs.

Everything about you is beautiful."

"I-I like to swim." Why I felt the need to talk, I have no idea.

"I like it that you swim, too."

"I have a pond. On my land. The old Macray place."

"Shh." He leaned over and kissed my belly. The urge to talk left completely.

The bed dipped, but instead of covering me with his body and plunging away –  which would have worked for me –  he stretched his length next to mine, held his head with one hand, and trailed the other from my hip, across my belly, and back again.

"Let me touch you, Jessie. I've been waiting forever."

I nearly pointed out that I'd only known him a few days, but I hesitated at branding myself a slut.

Besides, I felt like I'd known him a long time. I seemed to have wanted him for a lifetime.

Dangerous thoughts those, so I closed my mind against them and closed my eyes against all the things I saw flicker across his face as he touched me.

How long we lay there, kissing, discovering, trailing fingertips across chests, hips, thighs, I'm not sure.

When I opened my eyes, the dawn had spun gray shadows through my bedroom. I'd neglected to draw the shades again. I didn't care.

His body was even more spectacular in the daylight than it had been by the light of the moon. Just seeing him made me want him.

He kissed me and got off the bed. The rustle of clothes, the crackle of paper, the snap of rubber –  he'd come prepared. I was glad, since until this moment I hadn't even thought of protection. Would I have let him do me on the floor without it? I guess I'd never know.

When he rose over me and at last came inside, I kept my eyes open. I wanted to see his face; I wanted to watch my hands stroke his chest, my thumb tease a nipple. I wanted to know how he looked as I tightened and pulsed around him.

His eyes didn't cross, though mine did. He made no sound; I had to. He held me and stroked me both inside and out, until I was gasping, breathless, limp.

I came back to myself and realized he was still big and hard inside me. Heat flooded my face. "What –  ?"

He swallowed my question with a kiss, didn't stop tonguing me until I stopped trying to talk. Only then did he begin to move again.

I'd always considered reports of multiple orgasms an urban legend. Guess I was wrong.

He reached between us, stroked me where I was already sensitive until I was writhing and gasping, on the edge all over again. Then he lifted my hips and filled me with a firm, sure thrust. I felt him where I'd never felt anyone before.

His hands taught me the rhythm. First fast, then slow, then something in between. Seeming to grow, to swell, he throbbed to the beat of my pulse. I gasped, tightened, came again as his teeth scraped the curve of my neck.

He collapsed, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Trapped for a moment, I suddenly realized how big he was, how strong. Panic fluttered for an instant, until his palm cupped my hip and he rolled to the side. Our noses nearly brushed. In his eyes I saw uncertainty. Something I understood very well.

My chest tightened. My belly fluttered. My unease was pushed aside by the urge to make that expression go away.

So I touched his face and murmured, "Uncle."