Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) (16 page)

He groaned, leaning back into her and
rocking his erection in her hands. “Are you trying to kill
me?”

She laved the back of his ear with her
tongue and whispered, “Maybe I want you. Maybe I need you. Maybe
you’re the only one who can satisfy me.”

“
Maybe?” he growled. He
shot out of her teasing embrace and whipped around. The next
instant he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up. In
four steps he crossed the room and tossed her on the bed, then he
pinned her to the soft mattress with his hard body.

“
Maybe?” he asked again
just before his mouth found her nipple and he began to suck and
tease while his hand located her other breast, massaging it to a
throbbing peak. Then he devoured her. There was no other word for
it. She couldn’t think, all she could do was feel.

He soothingly laved each nipple with
his tongue only to pluck it to an aching point with his fingers
again and again. He had her writhing with need, arching up from the
bed with her desperation to have him inside her before he moved
lower. Her exquisite torture had only just begun.

He covered her lace panties with puffs
of hot breath, making her feel his heat, making her anticipate his
touch. Then he turned her over and maddeningly moved back up to the
nape of her neck. Little love bites sizzled down her spine and
pooled into a hot, wet, burning heat between her legs. She was on
fire and he was the only man who could save her.

She wiggled against him, her face
nuzzling the mattress, even as her hand dug desperately into the
sheets. “Jack, now,” she called to him, needing him inside
her.

“
Maybe?” he asked, softly,
infuriatingly and started to knead her buttocks.

Paybacks were both heaven and
hell.

“
Ever since I saw you up
against my truck in this,” he slid his finger underneath her
underwear. “I’ve been burning like a man on fire.”

Nan jolted with pleasure, her hips
lifting off the bed. That was it, she couldn’t take anymore. She
flipped over, pushing her underwear off and pulled him
down.

Amusement gleamed in his blue eyes.
“Maybe?” he asked again.

She sighed. “No maybes about it. Make
love to me, Jack.”

“
Never thought you’d ask,
sugar.” He sat back on his knees, slid on a condom he’d had under
his pillow. She welcomed him as he covered her body with his,
driving satisfyingly inside her.

Nan arched up to him, and he pushed
deeper. He was hot and needy and determined to thrust her to
heaven. She felt as if he went straight to her soul. His hands
cupped her breasts, teased her nipples, caressed her everywhere and
just when she thought she would shatter from the pleasure, he slid
his thumb over her sensitive, needy heart of her sex. Within three
strokes she came apart and shuddered against him with the force of
her release.

“
Keep on riding, baby.” He
latched a hand on each side of her hips and drove into her,
grunting with sheer sensual pleasure over each stroke. His
movements sent her spiraling higher and higher and she cried out
from the intensity. He groaned, sounding thoroughly satisfied, and
the world was swept away in a series of bright colors. The very
core of her being shuddered uncontrollably with pleasure so deep
that stars shot before her eyes until she collapsed into a spent
pool of quivering flesh.

Neither of them could speak, they
could hardly breathe. Jackson curled up behind her, wrapped her in
his arms and kissed her temple. She fell into a deep sleep and for
the first time in what seemed like forever, she didn’t have to
write a single word in her little black book.

* * *

A long time after Nan’s breathing fell
into an even rhythm, Jackson lay close to her lush body, threading
his fingers through the silky auburn hair strewn across his pillow.
The momentary exhaustion of sexual satisfaction had passed and he
was already hungry for her again, but it was a nice
hunger.

It didn’t surprise him that sex was
different with Nan than it had been during his brief sexual
encounters since Amy died. Two brief, stolen moments when he’d
indulged his physical needs and had hoped drown his pain, but he’d
always walked away dissatisfied and guilt-ridden. But things with
Nan were different. He wanted her with a fire previously
unsurpassed in his life. Something about her drew him, pulled at
him, so he just couldn’t walk away.

But it was still just sex. By having
her he’d get his want out of his system and they could both go back
to their comfort zones. She was a mover in life, a person who’d
never be content to drift. Sort of reminded him of what he was like
before med school, before the accident.

Always with the memory came the
screech of tires and Amy’s horrified cry. A sharp pain wrenched
inside of him and he rose from the bed, careful not to wake Nan. He
wanted to be alone to wrestle the demons back into the black pit
deep inside him. Slipping on jeans, he blew out the candles and
stepped out onto the moonlit porch with his guitar.

Most nights, when the memories were
more than he could bear, he’d play all night beneath the stars.
Music eased his soul and kept some part of him alive. Eric Clapton
said it all. Jackson sat on the steps and began playing “Tears in
Heaven,” so low the sound was a whispered prayer in the night, for
only in music could he let go of the pain in his soul.

He wasn’t sure how many hours he’d
played that song, but a quiet sniffle from the door interrupted his
reverie. He looked up to see Nan standing in the moonlight, her
wild hair a dark swath against her creamy skin and the white of the
sheet from his bed. He didn’t need to see the tears in her eyes to
know they were there. “Why are you crying?”

“
The song. It reaches into
the soul and connects.”

“
Yeah, it does.” The song
connected inside of him, and kept him with the living. That she
picked up on its depth connected them. The moment hung soft and
sweet in the air, and her as yet unspoken questions fell as thick
as the dew on an early summer morning.

Damn. He didn’t want her questions,
because he had no answers he was willing to give. What he carried
inside him was his own private hell and nothing less than he
deserved. He didn’t want her pity. He wanted her hot and wild and
he wanted to be deep inside her. For in those few moments of
pleasure, he could forget his pain. He could forget the anger and
self-loathing raging inside him.

Setting the guitar aside, he stood and
walked to her then picked up a corner of the sheet and gave it a
little tug. “Let go,” he said gruffly. “I want to see you naked in
the moonlight. Outside, right here beneath the morning
stars.”

“
Outside?”

He heard the excitement in her gasp
and his groin tightened in response. The night he’d found her
nicely laid against the hood of his truck had lingered in his mind
and suddenly he knew what he wanted. He caught the sheet as she
slowly released it. For a few minutes he just admired the shadow of
her womanly body touched by the streams of moonlight. “Don’t move,”
he ducked inside and snatched a condom. Then he went back to her.
Scooping her up, he walked from the cover of the porch.

“
Where are we going, Jack?
Are you sure nobody passes by?”

“
Yeah, I’m sure. Close
your eyes and relax. Don’t peek. I want you to tell me what you
feel and I’ll tell you what I see. Can you do that?”

“
I can try. What do you
have in mind?”

“
Trust me,” he murmured.
Seeing Nan shut her eyes had to be the biggest turn on he’d ever
gotten. He reached the hood of his truck in three strides. “I’m
going to set you on your feet a minute. Don’t move and don’t
peek.”

“
Okay.”

He spread the sheet over the hood and
then he picked Nan up and set her on it.

“
When am I supposed to
start telling you how I feel?’

“
Now, sugar,” he said
inserting himself between her legs.

“
Well, the grass was wet
and tickled my feet. Beneath my bottom I feel a damp sheet over
cool metal. I feel you in front of me. I feel your jeans against
the inside of my legs. So, I’m naked and you’re not,
right?”

“
Yeah, can you picture it
in your mind? All your sweet nudity silvery in the moonlight and
I’m half dressed. Doesn’t that make you feel a little bit naughty?”
He leaned forward and kissed her lips before she could
answer.

“
Yes.”

“
Does it feel
good?”

“
Yes.”

“
It’s going to feel even
better.” He cupped her breasts and teased her responsive nipples,
enjoying their softness beneath his molding fingers. “I see your
breasts. They’re rounded and just right to fill my palms. I see you
arch to me, and the pleasure of my touch.”

“
I, uh, I feel the heat of
your hands. I feel excited when you touch me, when your rougher
skin caresses mine.”

He leaned over and sucked on a
nipple.

“
Ah, I feel fire. A smooth
fire that makes me burn.”

He did the same to her other breast,
laving and plucking until she placed her hands on the hood of the
truck and completely arched her back to offer him more. “I see a
woman so damn beautiful in her need that no artist could ever
capture her essence. I see your breasts aching for my touch; you’re
lifting them to me. I like it. Lay back, Nan. Lay all the way
back.”

She did as he asked and he stepped
back to view her. “Move your arms out to the side and let your legs
relax, sugar. Open them just a little wider for me.”

“
I, um, feel the cool
night air all over, but I still feel hot. I feel
strange.”

“
I see a woman ripe and
open for loving. Do you know what that does to a man?” Her breasts
jiggled as she sucked in a breath.

“
No.”

“
It makes him burn, sugar.
I can see your heart beating in the pulse at your throat. I can see
your breasts move as your lungs fight for air in your excitement. I
can see the triangle of dark hair between your legs and your sex
open and waiting for me. It makes me want to be and do everything.
Do you want that from me, Nan?”

“
I’m not sure. I feel
vulnerable.”

He moved up and slid his hands down
her calves, pushing her legs open enough to place a kiss on the
inside of her thigh. “You like that, sugar?”

“
Yes.”

He kissed several places higher. “How
about that?”

“
Yes, oh, yes. That’s so
smooth, makes me want more—more of your touch, more of the pleasure
of your mouth.”

“
There’s more. Lots more.”
He pushed her legs apart, and kissed her feminine flesh until she
writhed.

“
Jack, oh, Jack. I need
you inside.”

“
Soon, sugar.” He
tightened his grip on her hips and held her prisoner to his loving
until she arched and shuddered, crying his name to the
stars.

By the time she stilled, Jackson
thought his erection was going to bust right through his jeans. He
reached down, popped open the button, and slid down the zipper. A
sigh of relief escaped him as his throbbing penis sprang free of
its confines.

“
Let me.” Nan moaned and
tried to sit up to reach him.

“
Let me,” he said. “Just
turn over and relax for the ride. I’ve been thinking about doing
this since I found you bottoms up on my truck’s hood.”

“
You sure?”

“
Lady, count on it.”
Jackson helped her turn over then rolled on the condom and gently
eased her down until he smoothly slid inside her. As he thrust in
and pulled out, she moaned and her muscles tightened lovingly about
him. Pure pleasure washed over him like a benediction from heaven.
He’d thought God had forsaken him into an eternal hell until he’d
made love to Nan for the first time. And now that he was making
love to her again, he could feel the heavens open up for him. He
pushed harder and higher until she cried out again and again as her
sheath spasmed around his dick, sucking him beyond all control. The
orgasm ripping through him thrust him to a new plateau and staked a
claim on ground he never meant to explore as his heart squeezed
tight. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms as he carried
her back to bed. Making love to Nan was messing with his
mind.

The early morning sun dappled through
the oak leaves and dotted flecks of gold across the rippling creek.
Nan lay back upon the old quilt Jackson had spread along the grassy
bank. She couldn’t remember ever getting up and doing nothing but
enjoying the breeze in the air and the warmth of the sun. She
always had something planned, something on her daily agenda to do.
Were she at home right now, she’d be cleaning out a closet, or
organizing a drawer, or clipping coupons, anything to keep her life
moving opposite the direction she’d grown up.

Jackson slid the basket of food they’d
brought from the back of his motorcycle. He’d been quiet this
morning, sort of withdrawn, which made for an odd morning after.
And she couldn’t seem to forget the raw pain she’d heard in his
voice when he sang so quietly on the porch last night.