Whip smiled to know that he had taken the sharp edge off Shannon’s wit and replaced it with the scattered words of a woman whose body was focused entirely on pleasure. It was worth the ache in his crotch to hear her ragged breathing, to feel her writhe slowly against his hand, to sense the sweet violence of the heat gathering between her legs.
«Passion,» Whip said huskily.
«What?»
It was a sigh as much as a question. His hand slid from satin slope to velvet crown and back.
«You,» Whip said. «It’s passion that draws your nipples so tight.»
«It’s — your fingers.»
Laughing, Whip bit the nape of Shannon’s neck again. Then he licked the indentations where his teeth had tested the sweetness of her skin.
She moaned and pushed back against him, increasing the force of the caress.
A torrent of heat went through Whip, focusing him in the aroused flesh that now was pressed against Shannon’s hip. His teeth raked over her nape less gently than he had intended, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she moved against him again, and again he let her feel the lover’s caress of his teeth against her nape.
«Like that?» he murmured.
Shannon’s answer was a sound that had no meaning, but the slow rocking of her hips between Whip’s thighs told him all that he needed to know. He bit her with savage restraint as his hand swept down her body and burrowed between her thighs.
Her breath came in with a swift, ripping sound. Her whole body stiffened as though struck by lightning.
«Easy,» Whip murmured.
The advice was as much for himself as it was for Shannon. Through the old trousers she wore, Whip could sense the steamy heat between her legs.
A blast of hail hammered over the tarpaulin. Neither Shannon nor Whip noticed. They were both riveted by the sultry flesh that throbbed only inches from his hand.
«I won’t hurt you,» Whip said in a low voice. «I just want to feel the fire I’ve started. I want you to feel it, too. Open your legs, honey girl.»
With a shudder, Shannon leaned against Whip fully and gave him what he wanted. Long fingers slid over her, pressed teasingly, cupped her, and held her in the palm of his hand. Slowly his hand rocked back and forth, opening her legs wider, pressing suddenly, urgently, sending a shock of pleasure surging up her body.
Shannon whimpered.
Whip’s hand gentled, simply holding her.
It wasn’t enough. Instinctively Shannon moved her hips, wanting more of the pleasure he had given her.
Whip unfastened her pants, smiling as he realized that he had never undone a fly before and found a woman’s very different flesh awaiting him.
«Whip — your hand —»
«Yes. My hand. Your softness. God, you are soft. Creamy soft and so hot it makes me want to —»
With a curse Whip bit back his incautious words. If he thought about how good it would feel to press into Shannon’s sultry, clinging heat, he would probably do something stupid like open his pants and slide her soft little rump into his lap and himself into her at the same time.
Not yet. She’s still too naive. She’s got to know what she’s asking me for when she watches me and smiles and crosses the room to stand next to me.
When she knows what she wants, I’ll give it to her. Every hot, aching inch of it.
Shannon made a ragged sound as she felt Whip’s palm nestling deeper and deeper between her legs, rubbing over her while pleasure coiled and coiled and coiled until it burst and spilled hotly over his caressing hand.
«I didn’t mean — I’m sorry — I don’t — I can’t — help it —» Shannon said jerkily.
«Help what?»
His hand moved and satin fire pooled again in his palm.
Shannon moaned as pleasure coiled even more deeply for having known just a small release.
«That,» she said raggedly.
Whip smiled despite the need raking him. He stroked Shannon again, pressing against the satin knot that stood out from her lush flesh. She shivered and heat licked over him in sultry caress.
«That,» Whip said huskily, «is the purest kind of honey.»
Shannon looked down and saw Whip’s hand moving inside her loose trousers, between her legs, touching her as she had never been touched.
«I shouldn’t — let you.»
«We’re just playing, honey girl. Men and women do this all the time. It’s a way of finding out if you want to play for real.»
Slick fingertips circled the knot Whip had drawn from Shannon’s softness. Instantly she stiffened and shuddered and cried out with surprise.
«Am I hurting you?» Whip asked.
«No,» she said, her voice ragged. «It feels — strange.»
«Strange bad or strange good?»
As Whip asked, he plucked and felt the hot rush of Shannon’s response spilling over his hand.
«Your body says that it feels good,» he said, biting her neck. «Damned good.»
Shannon’s only answer was a whimper and a jerk of her hips with each deft motion of his hand. Pressure coiled and coiled and coiled, driving her toward something she had never known.
«Whip! I can’t — stop! Stop! I’m scared!»
«It’s all right, honey girl. You’re nearly there. Lie back against me and let me take you the rest of the way.»
Shannon tried to answer, but Whip was caressing the lush, soft flesh between her legs. She whimpered as pleasure clenched tightly, summoned by his fingers and the pressure of his teeth at the nape of her neck. Helplessly her hips rocked and lifted, seeking something she couldn’t name.
Whip knew what Shannon sought. He circled the knot of her passion, caressing her with fingers slick from her wild response. He heard her whimpers come more quickly, felt the tension drawing her body until it was rigid, shaking.
Shannon’s breath fragmented over Whip’s name and she convulsed with a pleasure that was beyond anything she had eve imagined. Helpless in the grip of ecstasy, she called his name again and again.
It took an act of will for Whip to stop caressing the honey and silk between Shannon’s legs. He wanted to sheathe himself in the fire of her body, to feel her softness caress him with every sweet surge of her release.
And then he wanted to spend himself in her fire until he couldn’t remember what it was like to go hungry, aching with each breath, each heartbeat.
Shannon made a broken sound and moved against his hand. Heat pulsed between their skin. The air beneath the tarpaulin was steamy, mysterious, exciting beyond anything Whip had ever known.
«You’re everything your walk hinted you were,» he said roughly. «Honey and fire.»
Whip set his jaw against the temptation offered by the girl lying so seductively between his legs, her body open to his hand. Slowly, feeling as though he were tearing off his own skin, he forced himself to release the sultry, honeyed flesh.
He wasn’t nearly so slow about getting out from under the steamy intimacy of the tarpaulin. A few swift, savage motions of his hands tucked the tarpaulin around Shannon, protecting her from the violent weather.
«Stay here until the storm’s over,» Whip said.
«What about you?» asked a muffled voice.
«I’m hot enough to burn ice.»
Hail beat on Whip’s body as he went to check on the horses. Grimly he hoped it would put out the fire.
It didn’t.
