“JJ and Regan are making sugar cookies and invited him to help decorate them.”
Hawk stared. “Christ, even a bath won’t get that shit off.”
“Mmmhmm. He’ll have colorful hands until the food coloring fades.” Kit chuckled, totally unworried about her son’s appearance. Because she was the kind of mother who simply wanted her boy to be happy.
Hawk set his beer down unopened. When he put his hands around her waist, he expected her to tense.
She didn’t. Because she trusted him.
He wouldn’t betray that trust. Not ever.
Setting her palms on his chest, she tilted her head. “What are you up to, mister?”
Her dark eyes were the color of mahogany polished to a lustrous shine. “You have beautiful eyes.”
Those eyes narrowed.
So suspicious. She should be.
He smiled slightly. “Frosting cookies usually takes a while.”
It took her a moment, then her gaze lifted to her quarters upstairs.
Yep, she got it.
Dear sweet heavens, Hawk had skills.
When they’d gotten into her bedroom, he’d stripped her and somehow, she’d ended up on her back on the bed. With an evil smile, he said their time was limited so she’d need to get off quickly, and he pushed a pillow under her ass. Still clothed, he’d knelt on the bed between her legs and kissed his way down her body.
Only…he kept going. Past her breasts. Past her stomach. He edged back on the bed so he could reach her thighs. His lips were warm, his beard somehow both scratchy and soft and so distracting.
“Hawk, no,” she whispered. He’d wanted to do this in the tent, and she hadn’t let him. Obadiah—heck, all the PZs—never went down on their women, saying women were smelly and foul and nauseating.
“Kit, yes,” Hawk murmured. His big hands ran up and down her thighs, then his thumbs stroked the tender skin next to her groin. “I doubt your fuckwit husband was into this, which means it shouldn’t trigger you. Right?”
His thumbs edged inward, over the outside of her labia. Teasing her.
Her hips wiggled—and he grinned.
“I-I guess.”
“I love this.” His dark blue gaze met hers. “But if you hate it, I’ll stop.”
Darn it, it was impossible to argue with an argument like that. Especially since, if it was possible, her clit would be doing a happy dance. She used to love oral sex.
Damn Obadiah anyway. “Okay. But…but, if you don’t like it, then—”
His only response was an exasperated snort. And then he was there, his mouth on her. His tongue slid in circles around her clit, so very warm and velvety and perfect. Her hips tried to rise for more, to get him to lick her there—
And he pressed her down, even as his thumbs opened her more fully.
“Mmm. You smell like vanilla.” He licked again, moving his left hand to the top of her mound, the fingers holding her open as his right hand dropped.
His finger slid inside even as his tongue grazed over the very top of her clit.
The exquisite sensations were almost too much. “Oh. Oh.”
“Nice.” His finger began a slow in and out, as he licked the sides of her increasingly engorged nub, then closed his lips around it.
He sucked and licked, thrusting and teasing, and her world narrowed to just the slow slide of penetration, to the demanding sensation of his tongue. The pressure inside her tightened inexorably. He sucked even stronger and rubbed his tongue over the top.
“Oh, oh, oooooh.” Pleasure rolled over her, tossing her like waves on an ocean, And his tongue and finger continued drawing out more glorious spasms.
When she heard him laugh, she realized her hands were in his hair, holding him to her.
“Sorry.” She released him immediately.
He was still laughing as he moved off the bed and onto his feet. “If I go bald because I get you off, it’s a total win.”
Opening his jeans, he pushed them down to let his cock spring out.
“Come here, woman.” He pulled her down to the edge of the bed. Gently, but firmly, he lifted her legs, resting them on each side of his chest. Her butt was still elevated on a pillow, and most of her weight was on her shoulders. “Okay?”
Somehow her trigger had melted into a pool of happy goo. “Okay.”
The bed was high, and her pussy was just at the right height. He entered her slowly, giving her a moment to adjust to the startling sensation of being filled, being stretched almost to discomfort.
As he moved closer, her legs slid upward until her calves were on each side of his head, and her vagina pulsed around his thickness.
Leaning forward slightly, he sank in—and oh, having her ankles on his shoulders, let him penetrate even deeper.
His hands were free, she realized, as he leaned forward and fondled her breasts with one hand. His other hand curled around her right thigh, anchoring her as his thrusts grew stronger, faster.
He’d pound, then slow and move side-to-side, then up and down.
And her arousal wakened and grew. How did he do that to her? His fingers tugged on her nipple, squeezed, the sharply exquisite pain jolting all the way down. Her pussy clenched around him.
He laughed.
“More.” The words escaped, and she slapped her hands over her mouth.
But his gaze grew as hot as the blue flame in the center of the fire, and his smile was wicked as he trailed his fingers down her belly. The heel of his hand rested at the top of her mound and pressed down each time his shaft withdrew. His hand pulled upward when he drove in—and that tugged right on her clit too—even as his thick cock filled her completely.
Dear sweet heavens. Her toes curled.
His pace picked up, and the rhythmic sensation on her clit, the hammering inside, drove her up and up, until the heat grew into a brilliant torment.
And sent her right over.
Her legs pressed down on his shoulders, as her hips bucked. “Oh, Haaawk.” The release tore through her in a storm of sensation, whipping waves of pleasure across her body until even her hair seemed to shimmer.
“Nice.” His hand tightened on her thigh, holding her as he hammered into her. She was still coming even as he reached his peak, and she could feel the jerking of his shaft inside her.
His jaw was tight, his muscles tensed—and his eyes held hers in a long, wonderful moment.
Eventually, he moved, running his hands up and down her thighs before lowering her legs. After pulling up and zipping his jeans, he moved her up on the mattress and stretched out on top of her.
His weight pressed her into the mattress, and she stiffened, then breathed in his scent…and relaxed. For a happy moment, she kissed his jaw, his neck, because he never smelled like anyone else. So nice. “Ocean, today? And with a hint of citrus. Yesterday, it was cypress, I think.”
“Hmm?” His puzzled expression made her laugh.
She rubbed her face against his shoulder. “I like the way you smell. Even though it changes a lot.”
He snorted. “Got soap from Lillian for Christmas. She said Mako used smell to stay grounded.”
“You pick different scents depending on how you feel?”
A nod and a smile.
Huh, so which one would mean sex?
When he snorted, she realized she’d asked that aloud. Oh…drat.
“Guess. I’ll let you know when you’re right.”