Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,5

bare skin excited the hell out of Persia. It’d been so long. She wanted this stranger more than she’d ever wanted a man before. And that had been damned few times.

Lust roared like an out of control forest fire between them. It licked up her spine, and Persia couldn’t get her fingers on his head and into his hair fast enough. Delightful. Simply, decadently delightful, holding this man’s skull. Threading through waves of burnished gold. Mapping the curve of his head and his strong neck. Cupping his scruffy jaw, she held him still.

And he let her. Breathing was hard. But then Hotrod cupped both hands under her jaw, took possession of her mouth, and…

His breath became her air. Her lifeline.

Dayum. The man could kiss. His tongue was sweet and slick, demanding, tasting of cinnamon and male passion, determination mingled with brimstone and heat. And she was lost in a maelstrom of willing, dancing flames. The oncoming darkness swirled around them.

When she opened her eyes, Persia found herself standing under that silly outdoor showerhead. With a snap of his wrist, Hotrod cranked the handle and…

Br-r-r-r-r. Cold water doused over her head and over him. Not that it slowed her down or cooled her off. Not. At. All. If anything, it cranked her libido higher. He still wore his swim trunks, but that feral, needy glare in his eyes when they skated over her semi-nakedness, was her undoing.

And God created fire. Burning, aching flames in her gut that Hotrod seemed to know precisely how to cajole into a roaring inferno.

With one quick snap of his fingertips, the tie to her flimsy top was undone. It fell to the tiled floor between them. Likewise, her skimpy bottoms went next, a soggy number eight on the tile. Persia stood there stark naked, completely exposed where anyone could see her. While he was still semi-dressed. The inherent naughtiness of her being nude out in the open, when he wasn’t, turned her body to liquid flame. What a rush. Erotic anticipation zipped up the insides of her legs.

As if he knew precisely what she needed, he sank to his knees and…

Oh, yes, yes, yes, please.

He caught her breast in one big, warm palm, the other with his mouth, suckling that sensitive mound of needy flesh like a master. Licking it. Nibbling it. Scraping his teeth over the hardened tip, enough that she wanted more. He rolled her other nipple between his fingers. Pinching with just the right amount of pressure and squeeze and…

“Pleasssse,” she hissed. The tips of her nipples were hard as diamonds. If he kept suckling, licking, and pinching, she’d combust right here, right now.

“Inside. Sh-shower. Soap,” she informed him before she lost all control. Not like she had much left. Not with the steady buzz in her blood. But behind the closed doors of her tidy, clean bungalow, even if they landed on her kitchen floor instead of in her shower stall, was still safer than continuing this craziness outside.

His palm slipped down her belly even as his tongue swirled crazy circles around her nipple inside his mouth, and…

Two wonderful male fingers breached her core, as if he owned her. Which he did at the moment. Persia couldn’t think. Didn’t dare. She could hardly breathe, but she needed this, and whoever this guy really was, she needed him. Just for tonight. Then he could leave, and she’d never think of him again. Okay, that made her a one-night-stand. Well, so what? She had needs, damn it!

Between the chilly water sluicing over her bare skin, and the roaring, out of control fire he’d started with those gently probing fingers and his skilled mouth…

Between the stars twinkling down on her, and the fact that she was about to have consensual sex in the open where anyone with a decent pair of binoculars—or eyes—could see…

The heat in her blood turned into a thrilling zip ride of pleasure. She couldn’t believe how quickly he’d taken her to the edge. Didn’t dare speak it, afraid if she thought too hard, she’d kill the sizzle racing up her core. All she could do was stare wide-eyed at this stranger as a monster shockwave hit her. “I’m… I’m…”

“Come for me, princess,” Hotrod murmured tenderly, his blue eyes now midnight dark, his lips curled into a proud, ragged, manly smile. His voice had gone masculine deep, so low, it rumbled over her like a security blanket. A strong male security blanket.

Before she let go, she pulled back far enough to be