Montana Creeds: Tyler (11 page)

“I did not have a climax in Wal-Mart!” she blurted, once she was seated in the spotlessly clean SUV, with her seat belt buckled. Her head wanted to do one thing—go back into her dad's house, where she'd be safe—but her body had staged a mutiny, taken over.

Tyler, still standing on her side of the Blazer, braced one foot on the running board and smiled at her through the open door. “Save it, Lily. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head. You were breathing from the back of your throat, not your lungs, and you broke out in a very fetching orgasmic sweat. You
came.
And if it's the last thing I ever do, I want to see it happen again.”

She scowled at him, turned stiffly to face straight forward, glaring through the windshield. “I did
not
sweat!” she fussed.

Tyler laughed, closed the door and started around to the driver's side.

Run for it!
her brain warned fitfully.

Take off your underpants,
her wanton body countered.
It will save time
.

“You promised me dinner,” Lily said, as they pulled away from the last bastion of sanity on earth.

“You don't
want
dinner. You want my head between your legs.”

She squirmed, wet enough that taking off her panties began to seem almost practical. “Of all the
arrogant
—”

“Face it, Lily. You're horny as hell. I'm horny as hell.
And neither of us is going to be able to think straight until we've tended to business.”

She noticed he hadn't said “until we've made love.” No, he'd said, “tended to business.” There would be no tender kisses, no avowals of lasting affection. What was about to happen between them could only be classified as good old-fashioned
fucking
.

And Lily was stunned at how much she wanted just exactly that.

From Tyler Creed.

In his cabin at Hidden Lake.

If they even got that far.

As it turned out, they made it to the copse of heavy-leafed trees shading his gravel driveway.

By then, Lily had given up all pretense that it wasn't going to happen.

She was furious with herself, and she was furious with Tyler, and even that didn't change a damn thing.

When he pulled that Blazer under those trees, a place made private by the density of the foliage, she unhooked her seat belt and shimmied out of her panties. Angrily rolled down the window and hung them to dry on the passenger-side mirror.

Tyler chuckled at that, a hoarse sound, wholly masculine. He'd won, before he'd even touched her, and she'd made it so ridiculously easy for him that she'd never be able to think about this night again, if she lived to be a hundred, without being embarrassed to tears.

He got out of the Blazer, came around to her side and opened the door.

Lily glared defiantly into his eyes. “Right here?” she
asked, with a coolness she certainly didn't feel. “In the grass?”

“And spoil that sexy little dress?” Tyler drawled. “No way.”

Oh,
Lily thought, strangely detached from the whole thing.
He was going to have her standing up, the way it happened in books and those pay-per-view movies offered in hotel rooms.

She'd never done that with Burke, but if memory served, all she had to do was wrap her legs around Tyler's lean hips and he'd be inside her and this needing, this
endless,
stupid, primitive
needing
would finally stop.

Then they could both right their clothes, go their separate ways and get on with their lives.

Only it didn't happen that way.

Tyler went to the back of the small SUV and raised the hatch.

Lily turned her head slightly, to watch over one shoulder while he assessed the space, shook out a neatly folded blanket and arranged it carefully over the bare metal of the tailgate. When he came back, he lifted Lily off the seat as easily as if she weighed nothing at all, carried her around behind the rig and laid her down on the blanket like a picnic-spread at a halftime party.

When he slid her dress up around her waist, she realized she had the analogy right, and her eyes widened with anticipation and no little shock.

Back there in Stillwater Springs, when he'd told her she wanted his head between her legs, she'd thought he was just trying to shake her up. Burke had never been willing to do this—had shamed her the few times she'd
asked him to—but now that oral sex was definitely in her very near future, Lily didn't know what to do.

Tyler showed her. He coaxed her into bending her knees, set her feet wide apart, slipped her new strappy sandals off and let them fall to the ground, forgotten.

With them went all thought of Burke and what he had and hadn't done, in bed or out.

In those moments, she and Tyler were the only reality.

He made a throaty, anticipatory sound and began tracing the inside of her right thigh with his lips. With his free hand, he found the nest of moist curls where all her life-force seemed to have gathered, like a new universe about to be born, her own personal Big Bang.

The pun made her give a soft, sobbing laugh.

“It's all right, Lily,” Tyler told her, with a gentleness that brought tears swelling into her throat. “It's all right.”

She nodded, sniffled, groped with both hands for his hair, his shoulders, any part of him she could touch, and draw near. “What if I—What if I c-come too soon?” she rasped, remembering the spontaneous orgasm she'd had that morning.

Tyler chuckled again, kissing his way down her thigh, nearer and nearer to the apex, to the wet place where she pulsed and ached with the need of him. “There's no time clock, Lily,” he told her. “And you're going to come a lot more than once.”

In the next instant, he'd parted her, taken her full into his mouth.

The warmth and the wetness, the first flick of his tongue, instantly sent her shooting skyward on a geyser of stars. She groaned, her cries loud and hoarse, com
pletely surrendered to a kind of lust she'd never let herself feel before.

The climax went on and on, buckling Lily like a live wire fallen into deep water, wringing shout after shout of pleasure from her. Tyler stayed with her, relentless, granting no quarter, demanding everything she had to give, and more.

And she gave.

Oh, how she gave.

When she finally collapsed, spent, exhausted and totally satisfied, tears filled her eyes. It was over. She'd had her climax, and she'd had it too soon.

Now, Tyler would take her. Satisfy himself. But for her, it was over.

He leaned over her, kissed away her tears.

“What?” he whispered, nibbling at the length of her neck, slipping one shoulder strap down to uncover her bra and then her bare breast.

“It's over,” she murmured. “It happened too fast—I—”

“Shh,” he said. “It's
not
over, Lily. It hasn't even begun.”

He proceeded to prove his words then, caressing her, sucking at her breasts, tonguing the nipples until she thought she'd go mad if he didn't suck them again.

And when he'd worked her into an even greater frenzy than before, he went down on her again. Held her apart, teased her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, plied her on the inside with his fingers.

She came again.

And then again.

And still Tyler didn't crawl on top of her.

In fact, when she'd recovered from the third orgasm—or was it the fourth?—he bundled her in the blanket and the discarded dress and lifted her into his arms. Snatched her panties off the passenger-side mirror as they passed.

“Aren't you going to—well—you know?” Lily inquired sleepily.

“Do you?” Tyler asked. “Yeah, Lily. I'm going to do you, like you've never been done before. And then I'm going to do you again. And again after that.”

Even in her melted state, a state in which Lily could barely imagine being able to have even one more orgasm, as long as she lived, she felt the aching need of him begin. Felt herself expanding to receive him. “Oh,” she said, as though he'd just explained every mystery in the universe.

He chuckled, carried her up a set of rickety steps, pushed open a door.

Greeted his dog.

Lily didn't really see the dog, or the cabin itself. She was all sensation, all warm honey and, conversely, achy wanting.

Tyler carried her up a set of stairs, to a loft of some kind.

She couldn't have walked, she reasoned. Her legs were like noodles.

He laid her down on a bed, the covers pleasantly rumpled and smelling distinctly of Tyler and no one else. Downstairs, the dog gave a halfhearted whimper.

Tyler disappeared, and she heard his footsteps on the stairs, heard him speaking quietly to the dog, shaking
kibble into a bowl. Still, he returned in what seemed like a flicker of a second, and he was magnificently naked now, his erection almost frighteningly big.

Her eyes widened.

He stretched out on the bed next to her, his body half covering hers, careful not to put his full weight on her. She felt delicate, precious, and at the same time, fiercely feminine.

“Lily—I—If you want to change your mind—”

Lily was lost. She finally pressed her fingers to his mouth and urged him onto her.

The need was back, more ferocious than before, beyond refusal. It was basic biology—man, woman, instinct.

She wanted him inside her now, deep, deep inside her.

And she would die if she didn't have him.

He eased her legs apart. Hesitated for a long, almost unbearable interval, gazing into her eyes. She knew there was some kind of battle going on inside him, one that might have little or nothing to do with her, but she didn't care.

“Do me, Tyler Creed,” she told him.
“Do me.”

She'd seen how huge he was, but when he took her, she gasped at the sheer power of his thrust, at the steely hardness and the instant friction. She would have
loved
a spontaneous orgasm then, reveled in the quick relief it would have brought her.

But that wasn't to be.

The build from one level to the next, each one more impossible than the last, was exquisitely slow. At each new place, Tyler stopped, read the play of emotions in
Lily's face as though they were holy writ, made her need him and then need him still more.

The friction increased with every long, slow stroke.

Lily began to fret and toss beneath Tyler, sure she couldn't bear another breathless pinnacle, on the verge of orgasm but not quite there.

Every twist of her hips made him groan like a man in agony, but he didn't give in. Several times he stopped, closed his eyes, the muscles in his neck straining as he struggled for control, but he kept her pinned to the mattress, so completely did he fill her.

“Tyler,” she finally begged, tossing her head from side to side on the pillow now, nearly delirious with the promise of satisfaction and the withholding of it. “Make me come—Oh God, Tyler,
make me come—
”

Something broke inside him then. He slid his hands under her buttocks and slammed into her with everything he had, driving fast and hard and deep enough to touch her very soul.

Lily splintered, even as Tyler stiffened on her, spilled himself into her. She felt his warmth inside her and sobbed his name as another orgasm tore through her, then another. Through it all, Tyler pleasured her with exquisite skill, even after he'd emptied himself, his hands cupping her face now, buried in her sweat-dampened hair. He kissed her as she convulsed under him, around him, as she called his name again and again, in a throaty wail of pleading and of triumph.

Later, when she was back inside herself, Lily would reflect that never in her life, not with Burke, not even
when she'd given birth to Tess, had she felt so completely, gloriously, uncompromisingly female.

She'd surrendered to Tyler.

She'd also conquered him.

But it wasn't lovemaking, she reminded herself, even while she was still clawing at his shoulders and his back, even while she was still shuddering under him, still begging him to have her. It wasn't lovemaking. It was getting off, being
done
.

Nothing less, nothing more.

Finally, he rolled onto his side next to her, breathing hard, and pulled her into his arms. Held her. Murmured the occasional senseless word into her hair.

And in some ways, that part of the encounter was even more satisfying than the shattering climaxes he'd given her only minutes before. The tender, time-out-of-time feeling of it brought fresh tears to Lily's eyes.