CHAPTER SIXTY
Amber~
“Your first time?” Tenderness rose in him. He hesitated. Stroked her cheek. “I wouldn’t take your virginity, if you were saving yourself for marriage.”
She chuckled. “Not my first time making love. My first time doing it in a bed. Willie and I had to make do with the bank of the creek or his truck.”
Laughter spilled out. “You little tease.” He hugged her tightly and kissed the side of her neck, nibbling on the tendons.
Lightning streaked straight to her nipples and clit. She moaned and squirmed closer. “Undress me,” she begged.
Her voice broke the spell. He stiffened. Except for his cock, which drooped. He really did expect her to be nauseated by his appearance. His ex-wife had a lot to answer for. But Holly wasn’t here. And she had been foolish enough to let this man go. Her loss. Amber’s gain. She had more sense.
She replaced his fingers on her shirt snaps. Made her voice matter-of-fact when her heart was thudding. “Be careful with my bra, it tends to turn into a tourniquet when it’s removed.”
“What?” He forgot about his own concerns in figuring out what she meant.
“I wear a sports bra in the stable,” she said. “No hooks or buckles to twist or bind, but it’s sort of like a big old ace bandage for the chest.”
“Let me see.” He spread the sides of her shirt and revealed her breasts straining at the sturdy Lycra and cotton undergarment. Sexy it was not. But her breasts could rock a Kevlar vest. Lance clearly agreed. His eyes rounded.
“That is the idea,” she purred, pushing her girls out just a little. She did not want to knock him over, just tempt him a bit.
A long finger probed under the breast band. “This goes over your head in one piece?” His words were thick and syrup as if the poor guy’s tongue was dry. Probably from hanging out so far.
She rolled her shoulders so her breasts jiggled. Sweat popped on his forehead. Really she was such a siren. Imagine, little Amber Dupré was a sex kitten. She chuckled and was surprised at the husky sensual noise. “Shirt has to come off first,” she breathed. “And then the bra.”
He undid the snaps at her wrists and eased the shirt off. Dropped it on the floor. She performed another shoulder roll, just to keep him on his toes.
“It’s tight,” he sounded surprised.
“Very.”
He raised the band an inch or so before it stuck. “Uh. This doesn’t seem to be working.” He pulled it back down below her breasts. Gave the top slopes a little peck. “What’s the secret?”
She sighed. This was her life. “Pull from the sides and expect the bra to turn into a bungee cord.”
No one ever said that Marines didn’t have a can-do attitude. It took him three tries, but at last he wrestled it over her head and looked at the circle of black elastic he was holding. “Did I ruin it?”
She took it out of his hand. “Sadly, no. It will return to being an instrument of torture.”
His fingers traced the marks where the breast band and straps had dug into her skin. “It hurts you?”
Flames licked where his fingers passed, but she kept her tone casual. “Well, yeah. Bras are the best idea for harnessing a rack, but they fall far short of perfection. But this conversation is spoiling my mood.”
“I’ll kiss it better.” He suited actions to words. His mouth soothed the sore places made by a day of wearing the constricting bra.
His thumbs drew rough circles around and over her straining nipples. He caught her moans with his mouth. Amber felt a touch of self-consciousness standing in the lamplight bare to the waist, while he feasted on her curves with hands and mouth, and yet she sensed that he was enjoying himself as much as she was, and this was about getting him past his issues.
She ran her hands up under his vest, respecting his limits for now. She fully intended to get him naked in the bed with her tonight, but first she would make him feel loved.
He was wearing a plain white undershirt beneath his work shirt. It was stretched skin tight over his muscular torso. She made no comment, but moved her hands to his back to knead his bulging lats. Lifting all those bales of hay had given him the well-defined upper body of a Greek god.
“You’re so strong,” she told him. “So sexy.”
He didn’t reply, but she thought he heard her. He plumped her breasts while he kissed her, rolled the taut nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugged. She shattered right there. Came with an explosive force that was new to her. Soaked her panties with the surge of ejaculation from her pussy. That was new too. The air filled with the scent of her satisfaction.
“My God, you’re sensitive,” he groaned.
“Never was before. You have magic hands, lover.”
“I do?”
“I’m swooning here, Prescott. Let’s get rid of these wet jeans.”
“Your jeans are wet?”
She grinned. “I hope you’re not turned off by women who squirt.”
He buried his face in her neck. “I always thought that was a myth.”
“That guys are turned off by women who ejaculate?”
“No, that women did.” He sounded awed.
“My first time.” She giggled happily.
He knelt to help her pull her jeans down. The damp denim did not want to cooperate. But he wrestled them down her thighs and off.
“Your inner thighs are chafed,” he scolded.
“It’s the dry air. I’m not used to Colorado.”
He kissed the reddened skin. “You need to wear long johns and use lots of skin lotion.”
“Umm. Maybe you could rub some in for me,” she suggested with what she hoped was a sultry glance.
Apparently Lance thought so, because his face lit up. “Let’s get these socks off,” he said thickly.
You had to be hotness personified when a guy could smell like this while you stood before him wearing old socks and a pair of panties that had seen better days. Of course hers smelled fantastic now that they were soaked.
“Where’s your lotion?” he croaked.
“Bathroom.”
He took off. She used the opportunity to lose the panties and turn down the bed. She was lying propped against the pillows when he came back carrying a yellow tube.
“Is this the stuff?”
“It is.” She opened her legs and waved her bush at him. She shaved her pits and legs, but left her muff natural. The black hair was lush and curly and long. Her movement wafted her juices at him. For a hero, he looked a little weak at the knees.
She smiled. “Come do me,” she purred.