What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,57
for her, and if Gryff hadn’t caught her scent, Bull would have jogged right past. Would have missed seeing her practice. She’d been a hell of a sight with the short staff flashing around her so effectively he could almost see her imaginary attackers and hear their bones breaking.
She was gorgeous, graceful, and sexy as hell.
As he settled his weight on top of her, her legs opened. She could undoubtedly feel his bulging shaft against her pelvis.
She swallowed, her gaze on his.
“Guard, Gryff,” Bull ordered.
The dog moved to the only trail into the small clearing and lay there, ears forward. Whoever trained the dog before the asshole got him had done a fine job.
When Bull turned his attention back to Frankie, her face was flushed a dark rose color. “Um. I thought we’d agreed we weren’t going to…”
“To fuck?” he asked gently. “No, we agreed to no entanglements and that nothing would intrude in work. On your way out, you might have mentioned something about a one-time thing, but I didn’t agree to that.”
“Oh.” Her small hands stroked his shoulders in a way he remembered…and enjoyed.
He nibbled on her jaw. “I think we can maintain a boss-employee dynamic at the roadhouse and still have a friendlier connection outside of work.”
“A connection?” Her lips quirked.
“Precisely.” Damned if he could resist her. Even though she’d only stayed one night, he missed her in his bed.
“You’re crazy. You know I’m not going to stay in Rescue.”
“I did hear that, yes.” They’d see where they were when the summer season ended. Plans did change, after all.
“Well. All right.” Her big brown eyes searched his for a moment, then her mouth curved into a sultry smile. “Yes, let’s connect.”
He kissed her again, slow and sure, taking possession even as he slid a hand beneath her black tank top and black sports bra to savor her perfect breasts.
More. He sat back on his heels so he could pull her shirt and bra up and off.
“Fuck. You are incredibly beautiful, woman.” The sunlight glowed on her damp olive skin. Her lush breasts, a shade lighter, were tipped with large pink-brown nipples that practically begged for his touch.
Words were inadequate. He bent to pay homage with his mouth, licking between the soft mounds, kissing up and over the nipples, sucking on each until they peaked…and she squirmed in need of more.
Perfect. But stripping her completely naked in a park, even with the dog on guard, wasn’t wise. He eyed the area, grinned, and rose. Partly naked would work.
“Bull?” Frankie stared up at him, and damn, but he seemed even bigger than normal, standing over her.
He closed his hands around her waist, lifted easily, and set her on her feet.
Had he changed his mind?
He noticed her expression, and a dimple appeared in his cheek. “We’re not done, Ms. Bocelli.”
“Oh. Good.” Wrapping her hands behind his neck, she pulled him down. The long, exploratory kiss led her mind to other things she wanted to do, to touch, to lick.
Step by step, his mouth on hers, he moved her backward until her butt bumped into a picnic table. “Stand right there for a minute.” He pulled off his shirt and covered the surface.
His arms brushed against her naked breasts as he reached down to untie her joggers. Oh, this was so unwise. And somehow, she didn’t care. She ran her hands over his bare chest, leaning forward to lick over taut, salty, damp skin, to swirl her tongue around one of the flat male nipples.
His growl sent hunger rolling up and over her.
Hands cupping her face, he kissed her long and hard, then spun her around. With his hand between her shoulder blades, he bent her down until her breasts flattened against the picnic table.
On his shirt. Because, being Bull, he’d made sure she was protected from dirt and splinters.
He yanked her pants down and rumbled in satisfaction. “I love your ass.”
She could only grin because…such a guy.
There was the sound of his sweatpants being untied. The crinkling of a condom wrapper. Then he pressed against her entrance and made an appreciative purr.
She was really, really wet.
“Now,” she ordered.
“Oh, it’ll be now, city girl.” His thrust inside her was long and hard.
The full, slick sensation sent pleasure rippling along every nerve pathway in her body. “Cazzo!” She extended her arms and gripped the sides of the tabletop.
“I know that much Italian.” He chuckled and squeezed her hips. “In fact, I intend to cazzo you very, very thoroughly.”