Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 22

  He placed something on her mound. The object was heavy but felt soft and pliable. Instead of worrying about what it was, she focused on how it felt. The eroticism of the weight covering just her pubes made her breath catch.

  His mouth joined the party and nearly sent her off the edge when he kissed, licked, and bit her stomach.

  “Do you mind if I sign my work? It’s not every day a man gets to experience a sensual masterpiece. I’d like to leave my mark.”

  Her answer took the form of a naughty wiggle and a sigh. Having just discovered the thrill of love biting, she was eager to experience more.

  Her pussy exploded with greedy arousal when he suckled voraciously on each of her hips. The weight on her mound increased her need and sent her spiraling out of control.

  She spread her legs without being told when she felt him hoist onto the bed and move between her thighs.

  He plundered her mouth and then suckled at her breasts until her nipples grew painful and taut. She melted down as his mouth descended, inch by inch until his face was between her spread legs.

  Removing the strange, weighted object, he parted her with surprising gentleness. She caught his satisfied inhale when her need was revealed.

  Time ceased to have meaning as she writhed and moaned beneath Arnie’s expert touch. His barely there touch as he stroked her swollen pussy lips made her tremble uncontrollably.

  He stopped and moved away from her. She cried out, and gasped, “No, please,” when the loss of contact made her nerves fray.

  “Give me your hands,” he growled. “Don’t think, just do it.”

  Not knowing what to expect, she shook as her hands flailed blindly. He took her fingers and guided them between her legs.

  “I want you to hold your pussy open. Keep your legs wide, baby.”

  She trembled uncontrollably as she did what he asked. He placed his big hands under her ass and lifted. Then while she cried out, he speared her opening with his tongue.

  The greedy sounds of Arnie devouring her pussy filled her mind. He didn’t hide his enjoyment of her body and growled triumphantly when he flicked her clit with his tongue, and she gushed with arousal.

  “Oh god, Arnie,” she grunted. “Arnie.”

  She careened toward a cataclysmic orgasm as he blew warm air over her clit. Lifting toward his mouth, she begged for the pleasure she knew awaited.

  “Come for me, golden girl. Come on my tongue, Summer. Fill my mouth with your sweet juices.”

  Her grunts and his moans filled the air. A strangled-sounding scream clawed its way out of her throat as he tongue-fucked her to a mind-blowing climax.

  If she was conscious after, it was a miracle. She was aware when he removed the blindfold and heard most of his satisfied praise as he gathered her in his arms and held her against his naked body. Almost immediately, she began to drift. As sated exhaustion claimed her, the last thought she had was how one-sided the encounter had been.

  Arnie held Summer’s trembling body until she calmed and sleep took her under. He found it possible to ignore the needs of his body because focusing on her pleasure—only her pleasure—had been a singular and surprisingly satisfying endeavor. Without the distraction of chasing an orgasm, he was able to focus entirely on her, and what he experienced was more than worth the sacrifice.

  She cuddled into him and murmured in her sleep. He never felt more alive or more like a man. This female belonged to him. As unlikely as it was, he found his one and only, and now everything was different.

  He knew from the first time they were together that nothing was ever going to be the same, but something unexpected came over him when she winced in the shower and tried to convince him she wasn’t feeling the effects of his ferocious sex drive on her body. His desire to take care of her, to show her how precious he found her fragility, blew his mind.

  If the survival of mankind hung on him taking her again before she’d had time to recover, then everyone was fucked because, in the blink of an eye, he went from sexually selfish caveman to caring, considerate lover.

  Getting her off with some sensual touching and a thorough pussy licking was his absolute pleasure. She melted so beautifully and tasted like a dreamsicle. Licking his lips, he recalled the flood of delicious golden girl cream coating his tongue.

  “Mm.”

  Summer stirred in his arms and burrowed deeper. She sighed against his chest. “Arnie.”

  He stroked her back and kissed her head. Inside of a minute, she was snoring. All he could do was smile.

  Sometime later, deep in the night, he awoke to find his wicked lover wriggling on top of him. He didn’t hesitate to reach between them to grab his cock and guide it to her open pussy. She was frantic, so it took a few tries to line up, but when he felt his cock begin to penetrate her, and he felt how hot and wet she was, Arnie cast off all restraint and went for it.

  She rode him with unbridled passion. Her wanton lustiness stole his sanity. Once she discovered how much control she had, Summer fucked him with Olympic-worthy precision. The wet, slapping sounds of their mating was music to his ears as she wiggled and ground her ravenous pussy on his cock.

  It was him who cried out with wonder. “Summer! Baby! Your pussy is destroying me. Oh god, don’t ever stop.”

  She leaned down and teased his lips with a beautiful, tight nipple. He caught it with his teeth and proceeded to feast on her boobs while she switched from deep thrusting to shallow teasing.

  The swollen head of his fat cock rubbing her tight opening made him shake with need. He put his hands on her waist and tried to force her to take all of him, but she laughed, reached between them, and fondled his balls.

  “Aw, Jesus, Summer,” he croaked. His body jerked with pleasure and his brain emptied. “If you keep that up, I’m gonna come.”

  “We can’t have that,” she cooed against his lips while her fingers squeezed one last time.

  She repositioned over him and smirked. “I’m only going to say this once, big guy, so listen up.”

  He shook his head to clear the fog and tried to concentrate.

  “As sexist as it sounds, I love your big, fat cock. And before you protest, no, I don’t care whether I can walk in the morning or not. Now be a good Adonis and lay there while I fuck you into tomorrow.”

  He had no time for her words to register before she sank onto him with one stroke. The first one was tentative, but then she went a little nuts.

  Her grunts curled his toes. So did the flood of arousal leaking profusely from her hot, sexy body.

  “Fuck,” she growled each time her body swallowed his hard length. The chant of fucks built with each plunge. He surged upward to give her all of him.

  “Fuck,” she groaned.

  She plunged down, and he bucked up—over and over—as the husky sound of her crying, “Fuck,” set the rhythm.

  Arnie felt her pussy tighten. Heat surrounded his cock. She looked him in the eye.

  “Hang on,” she managed before impaling on his manhood over and over.

  Her inner slut goddess was a glory to behold. She didn’t hold back and took what she needed.

  “Squeeze,” he commanded her. “Do it, baby girl. Coat my dick with your sweet come.”

  Her orgasm blew his mind. He swelled inside her and released with a deep grunt.

  When the storm passed, he lifted her off his cock.

  He had a second of guilt over their continued inability to practice birth control of any kind, but just as quickly, he dismissed any worries. The chances of him procreating with only one functioning testicle had to be unlikely. Right?

  10

  Summer awoke with a start. The dream she was in clung to her like a comfortable sweater. Before the images vanished, she pulled as many as she could into a big mental pile and absorbed them.

  A sense of urgency filled her. Dreams weren’t always fantasies. Sometimes, they contained clues and messages from elsewhere—like her subconscious or, for lack of a better term, the world of univers
al spirit.

  While pink bunnies and a rose garden with a brook of clear water didn’t immediately seem of any importance, her reaction to it demanded she try to remember as much as she could.

  She turned to look at her sleeping bedmate. Arnie was out cold on his stomach and sprawled across half the bed.

  Crawling out from under the covers, she cautiously slid from the bed without waking him and made a mad dash into the bathroom.

  The best way to commit a dream to memory was to use her words, so she repeated the principal elements out loud, over and over, while peeing and rushing through a quick wash-up.

  Spying a T-shirt of Arnie’s on the hook next to the bathroom door, she yanked it down and pulled it over her nakedness. Then before the nighttime images self-destructed, she made for the bungalow’s living room and sat at the desk. In the top drawer was a little stack of hotel stationery.

  “Yay,” she murmured and grabbed a pen from the drawer too.

  Pulling her feet up, Summer sat cross-legged on the upholstered seat and started scribbling. The words came easily, and she knew from experience not to edit or overthink what came. The important thing was to write down as much as she could.

  She covered four sheets of paper, front and back, and was working on a fifth when Arnie appeared next to her. He didn’t ask what she was doing, and if she read him right, he understood.

  Ignoring him was impossible, so she gave it one last burst of focus, wrote as much as she could, and then threw the pen down. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction for the effort, she looked up at him and smiled.

  Their eyes met, and the zing of connection that had been there from their first encounter tickled her senses.

  “It’s not possible,” he murmured.

  “What isn’t?”

  His smile was warm and oh, so very sexy. “That you’re even more beautiful the morning after.”

  An unstoppable blush moved from her toes to her forehead. She was so new at this that every compliment rattled her confidence. Letting her inner slut off the leash when they were doing it was one thing, but not cringing from embarrassment and insecurity later was something entirely different.

  He nodded at the papers strewn across the desktop. “May I peek?”

  Her face went from smile to smirk. “I suppose, but first,” she said with her hand atop the papers, “what do you know about rabbit dream symbology?”

  “Say what? Rabbits as in Bugs Bunny?”

  Having a serious conversation with him would never come easy.

  “No, Arnie. Not Bugs, Peter, Jessica, Harvey, or Roger. I’m talking bunnies and not the one who only has a job at Easter.”

  “Gotcha.” He winked and then turned thoughtful. “Well, since you referenced dream symbols, I believe rabbits are a mixed bag. There’s luck of course, hence the abhorrent custom of carrying a rabbit’s foot.” His shudder of revulsion wasn’t done for show. “Rabbits also signify abundance. Oh, and sexual activity.”

  She giggled. “That one I know. I believe what you refer to is people fucking like rabbits.”

  “Going a step further, sexual activity is in the same category as fertility. The rabbit used to be sacrificed to confirm pregnancy.”

  It was Summer’s turn to shudder, and for a brief second, she thought tears were imminent. The thought of killing a bunny to learn such joyful news tore her up inside.

  “And lastly,” he continued, “rabbits denote magical power or the presence of.”

  “I should probably ask why you have all that information at your fingertips, but since there are a lot of questions we’re not asking, I’ll just leave it for now.”

  His goddamn phone had the worst timing ever and chose that moment to go off. His reaction to the ringtone got her full attention. He looked at the coffee table where their phones sat charging, side by side, and immediately stiffened.

  “Fuck. I have to take that.”

  He didn’t wait for her to react before he grabbed the phone off the table, ripped the charging cord out, held it to his ear, and snarled, “Templeton, here.”

  The way he stomped from the room and the gravity in his voice did not cause joy to erupt inside her.

  “I need more time,” Arnie demanded brusquely. “Make it happen, Dottie.”

  “No can do, Darnell. You heard the man. This matter moved like wildfire through command and made it all the way to Pennsylvania Avenue. We don’t get to call the shots. They want you for a reason, and those reasons are not open to discussion or negotiation.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I’d agree with you, but this situation is different, and you know it.”

  Smacking his fist against his forehead to clear his thoughts, Arnie saw the play, mapped it out, and then stopped to ask for clarification.

  “Give it to me straight. Is this infiltration or extraction?”

  The silence that followed his question made him uneasy. When Dottie sidestepped the question and stuck to business, he knew some serious shit was hitting Washington’s fan.

  “There’s a short hold in play while State tries to manage things. Less than forty-eight hours. Get your house in order, Arnie. Once the decision gets handed off, things will move quickly.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. At the very least he still had all of today with Summer. With any luck, the heavy lifters at the State Department would find a work-around and avoid an international crisis, thereby leaving him off the hook.

  One could hope.

  “Sorry for interfering in your happy family reunion.” Dottie chortled.

  He pulled the phone from his ear and glared at it because he couldn’t glare at her.

  “Don’t be a bitch, Quickie.”

  “Don’t call me Quickie, you asshole.”

  Arnie smiled. His life would be a lot less meaningful without Dorothea Anders, aka Dottie Quick, stirring the pot. She’d been his main handler since, well, since the people who ran things gave him a front row seat at the grown-ups table. She kept him sane, explained away his occasional fuckup, and never let him forget that what they did was important.

  “Dad says hi,” he told her before he forgot his manners.

  “Aw, that’s nice. Tell Ned I waved back. How’s he doing?”

  “He got a tattoo,” Arnie drawled. “Runs down his side under his arm. He swears it’s Elvish script, but to me, it just looks like a mess.”

  “Elvish?” she asked with a laugh. “You mean from Lord of the Rings?”

  “One and the same. Some rubbish about wandering and getting lost.”

  Dottie’s barking laughter made him smile.

  “Good lord, Arnie, really? You can recite endless cartoons, chapter and verse, but Tolkien leaves you stupid? It’s a quote, you moron. Not all who wander are lost, and I’d say it describes your dad to a T.”

  On an impulse, he suddenly asked, “Dottie, do you remember me telling you about Merlin’s cave?”

  “Of course. It’s your vision space. Where you go to do that thing you do. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering. It’s not something that comes up in conversation a lot.”

  “Meaning it has recently? Arnie, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he assured her, maybe a tad too quickly.

  “Uh-huh. I sense your fingers in a cookie jar of unknown origin. Care to elaborate?”

  Some part of him wanted to unload on his surrogate mother and tell her about Summer and how he was falling for the pretty little waitress, but he held back—for now.

  “I’m thinking about getting a cat and calling it Merlin. That’s all.”

  “Darnell Templeton Wanamaker, the goddamn third. The day you add a kitty litter box to your apartment is the day I’ll know hell had a frost alert. Nice deflection, though. Well executed.”

  “Yep, that’s me. The king of deflection. And on that note, you old biddy, I’m out. There’s a three-hour time difference, in case you’ve forgotten. I haven’t been up long enough to scratch my balls.”

/>   “Noted, and Arnie? Don’t fuck around. Be ready to haul ass when the call comes.”

  “Say what you want about fast food being nasty,” Summer joked, “but there’s nothing like a breakfast croissant from Jack in the Box. Egg, bacon, ham, and melted cheese on a mass-produced croissant. Yum.”

  He couldn’t disagree. Not when he was about to finish his second sandwich.

  “Better than an MRE,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

  “Huh?” Summer’s face was adorable as she tried to translate his garbled words.

  Taking a slug of a mocha iced latte that was mostly sugar, he washed everything down and tried again.

  “MREs. What the military thinks are meals ready to eat. Some of that shit is disgusting. Personally, I think Congress should be forced to eat them.”

  She laugh-snorted. “Oh, my god. My brother says the same thing. He sent me a beef stew meal and told me to try it. To be honest, I didn’t know what to think.” Her eyes searched his face and narrowed. “Wait. You never said you were military. What do you know about battlefield rations?”

  Oops. Arnie cleared his throat. “They aren’t restricted to war zones.”

  “Uh-huh. And?”

  Other than Dottie, he’d never met anyone who read through his smoke screens like Summer. It was unnerving and exhilarating.

  He shrugged. “When the government signed my paycheck.” And held my leash, he thought with a shudder of memory. “I did a lot of travel. Wherever the US had interests or troops on the ground. The MREs were standard-issue—just in case.”

  “Was a gun standard-issue?”

  “Uh …”

  “You don’t have to answer,” she assured him. “I understand more than you know. My brother has a high-level security clearance.”

  He heard what sounded like irritation in her delivery. Irritation laced with aggravation.

  “I know thirty isn’t old, but he’s been at this Army thing for a decade. He likes what he’s doing, but the guy has no regular friends and zero social life. It’s not healthy. Everyone needs human contact, whether they admit it or not. He wants a family but won’t say so out loud because he thinks it makes him sound unpatriotic or some such rubbish.”