Smex Scene Sunday

Heroine: Blythe. Cousin to the Drake sisters. Lives in Sea Haven with her sister of the heart on a small farm. She gets quite a shock when she comes face to face with her husband who disappeared without a word or trace five years ago.

Hero: Viktor Prakenskii has been missing for years and assumed dead. Now the president of a motorcycle club, Viktor has come to Sea Haven, determined to win his wife back while carrying out his final mission.

Blythe couldn’t help herself. The temptation was too much. She dropped her hands lower, sliding them over his hard belly. He’d always had a washboard stomach. She remembered lying in bed with him and just tracing all those delicious muscles. He had never understood her fascination, but he’d never minded. Her hands edged up under his jacket and she caressed his belly through her gloves and his shirt, wishing he wasn’t wearing one.

Suddenly all she could think about was Viktor, and the fire building between her legs. Her hands deliberately dropped lower, to cup his cock. She remembered every single detail of his cock. The length and girth of it. How he felt, hot and hard and velvet soft yet like steel. He didn’t stop her stroking fingers, but he did speed up just a little, and she knew the powerful engine, the caress of her hand and the press of her breasts into his back were getting to him.

She found herself smiling just for the pure joy of being alive. She hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time. Not since Viktor was with her and they spent every minute together just worshipping each other’s bodies. “Hurry,” she whispered against his back, her hand sliding over his cock, fingers molding to him, dancing and teasing. She really needed him to hurry.

Blythe recognized the river and Iron Bridge when he slowed the bike. Few people were ever there as a rule, and she doubted if anyone would be this time of night. He stopped and they just sat together staring at the river, his hand over hers, pressing her palm tight over the length of his hard cock.

She could barely breathe with wanting him. “Viktor.” His name came out with heat and need.

“I know, baby.” He tugged at her hand and indicated she get off the bike.

She wasn’t certain she could stand. It wasn’t just the long time on the back of the motorcycle, it was the need coursing through her veins. Need that had become intense hunger for him. For the taste and feel of him. She’d never forgotten the vivid details of nights and days spent making love for hours on end.

[…]

“It’s been five years for me, Blythe. Haven’t touched a woman. My hands are fumbling a little bit.”

“It’s been five years since I touched a man,” she admitted. She held out her hand in front of him. It was shaking. “I don’t know if I can do better.” She lifted her foot and he yanked off the boot and went to the other one. Somehow he got that off without her falling down. She was shaking so hard she had to hang on to his shoulders with both hands as he removed first one sock and then the other. He knelt up and caught at the zipper of her jeans.

“Take off your jacket, Blythe. Hurry, baby. I might explode before we get started and that would be a major blow to my pride.”

She let go of him long enough to rip off the jacket and fling it aside. It landed on her boots. He had her zipper down and caught at the waistband of her jeans, catching her lacy underwear at the same time. He slid the material over her hips, down her thighs to her calves. She had to hold on again to his shoulder while she lifted first one leg and then the other to get out of the offending material.

Her breath came in ragged pants. The burn between her legs had grown until it was a wildfire out of control. She could barely stand when he pushed her thighs apart, wedged himself between them, caught her bottom in his hands and licked up the inside of her thigh.

She gasped. “Viktor.” It wasn’t a protest. It was a demand.

“Take off your top.”

She didn’t hesitate. Not for a moment. She didn’t even care where his friends were, how close or how far. If they could see or not. She flung her T-shirt after her jacket and without being asked, undid the lacy bra so that her breasts spilled free. She needed the cool breeze on her body.

She really needed his mouth on her, but he was doing something slow and lazy with his tongue instead of getting down to business. She caught him by his hair and tugged at his head to bring him closer. “Viktor.”

“I’m remembering how much I love the taste of you. The feel of your skin. Your scent.” His voice was very soft. “Making new memories, baby.”

“Make them later,” she demanded.

He laughed and blew warm air on her, holding her still while he nuzzled. She tightened her fists in his hair in warning. She loved his laughter. Even when he was driving her mad, she loved it. Then his mouth was on her and she lost every sane thought she had. She cried out. Loud. With Viktor there was never a place for inhibitions. He just didn’t allow them. Just like that, all her walls came tumbling down, and she was once again just Blythe. All woman. His woman. And that was all that mattered to either of them.

He was relentless, his tongue stabbing deep, teasing, circling, flicking. He knew what he was doing and he did it expertly, but with so much feeling. The rush consumed her faster than she ever thought possible she was so primed. Then he was driving her right back up, a ruthless demand in his fingers and mouth. Taking her there again before she had caught her breath.

“Viktor.” Just his name. Thinking to stop him. There was no stopping him.

He devoured her, taking his time now, slowing his attack so that the terrible sensitivity could ease enough that she could breathe. His mouth was so good. How had she lived without it? Without him? She didn’t know. She didn’t care now that he was with her. On his knees, holding her up, his mouth eating her as if she was the best treat in the world.

“I can’t. It’s coming again.” It was. A fierce coiling. So tight. A gathering that threatened to take her sanity this time.

“Let go. Give me this, baby.”