She was a demon, he decided. It was now Sunday night and he stood in the driveway waiting on her. With mild concern, he wondered if it was possible for constant erections to cause permanent brain dam- age from blood loss. I'm ready whenever you are, my lady. He'd sent that mental communication to her about fifteen min- utes ago. Since she was a woman, he'd expected and had the time to make a few more adjustments to the bike, as well as throw a stick to Bran's brother Fionn. Sunday night was blessed with a pleasant tem- perature and light breeze to keep off the mosquitoes. A sliver of moon was tilting in the early evening sky. She came out wearing a lavender knit shirt, dark jeans, matching sandals and some simple jewelry. Except for the mall, he'd never seen her in jeans. The lines of the denim were straight and elegant, turning her ass into an upside-down heart where the garment nipped in to the waist.
She had her hair clipped up loosely so tendrils fell around her oval face. No makeup, not that she needed any. All in all, she looked like she was ready for a picnic in the park. She'd told him to wear com- fortable clothes, so he was in his normal garb of jeans and a T-shirt. She handed him a flyer. "That's where we're going. " He glanced down. Started. "There's a Renaissance Faire at Lang- ston Field?" She nodded. "They set up outside of town several nights ago, and I thought you'd like to go. " Seeing the pen and ink depiction of the knight on the horse and the amply endowed wench offering food and drink brought back memories, most of them good. Though he tried to squelch one of them in particular, he felt her amusement sweep over him. "Too late, Sir Vagabond. Now you're in trouble. " "She was just a friend. We were a bit drunk that night. " "Not too drunk to give her a good time, I see. " "If you're going to eavesdrop on my thoughts, you deserve what you get. " When his thumb passed over the drawing of the knight and his steed, other memories came back. Sitting on the back of a powerful horse, charging forward side by side with other knights. Brief, poignant moments where he felt immersed in something that had always been more than a performance to him. But it hadn't been enough to hold him, keep him. Only the woman in front of him had been able to do that. He raised his attention to Lyssa, knowing she was watching him closely, inside and out. "Why are you doing this, my lady? I'm not complaining; it's just these past few days . . . I guess I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. " Stepping closer to him, Lyssa slid her hands up behind his neck and brought his head down for a kiss. They didn't often do it this way, where his greater height was particularly marked. Jacob lost the flow of his thoughts as she stretched up on her toes and pressed her body into his. Abandoning whatever the hell it was he'd asked her, he kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her. Soft ness, firmness, perfume, blissful curves. With the hand holding the flyer, he gripped her left buttock, the paper crackling as he molded it to the perfect shape.
"Don't ask questions. I just want to give you something. Some- thing you'll like. " You're doing that now, my lady. He brought both hands into play, grasping her tightly to lift her against him. She made a noise of pleasure, goading him further. He was raging for her, his cock enormous in a blink of time. He wanted, needed her now. When she pushed away and backed up several steps until she was leaning against the bike, her gaze was one of wanton challenge. It seems you've missed me. Am I teaching you to be insatiable? The playful demeanor disappeared. Christ, even the dark mink sweep of her lashes could make him hard. She opened the top button of her shirt, teasing the cleavage with long-nailed fingers he'd painted himself. I want you. Which of them had thought it? And did it matter? He closed the gap between them and crowded her, trapping her between himself and the bike. As she put a palm on his chest, his hand closed over her deceptively delicate wrist, pulling it to the side and behind her, arch- ing her body up into his. Perhaps it was her own strength that made him act more savagely, more unleashed than he'd ever been with a woman. Her hair smelled like the exotic scent she used. It was something that if inhaled too deeply couldn't be detected, but it was there when one breathed nor- mally, part of the lightness of the air. Capable of teasing a man to madness, like all of her, for she could deny him whenever she chose. She watched him, the shadows in her eyes suggesting her internal struggle with her overwhelming desires and needs. Her lips parted as if there were things she wanted to say that she never would. It was a struggle his sudden, sharp, male need cared little about. Whatever it is, my lady, let it go. I just want you. It's that simple, every day, every moment. The beginning and the end of everything I need is here. When he lifted her onto the motorcycle's seat, she relented, wrapping her legs around him as he growled his approval into her mouth.
Pulling the clip free, he buried his hands in her abundant hair, deepened the kiss, invading her with ruthless determination as he intended to invade her elsewhere. His hands went under her knit shirt, his long fingers tunneling beneath the band of the bra and pushing it up so he could support her breasts with his own hands, earning a quiver of response from her as he captured her nipples in the creases between his thumbs and forefingers. He knew she was wet for him already, knew it the way he knew he was ready to detonate. Putting his hand between them, he rubbed the heel of his palm against her mound and was rewarded by a con- vulsive tightening of her legs, her hips jerking up to meet him and increase the friction. He pulled the shirt over her head and unfastened her jeans swift ly, backing off enough to strip them down her legs, taking her sandals off. Despite the urgency goading their actions, he had to take a mo- ment to savor it. She sat on his bike in the driveway, under the spreading branches of a live oak dripping with Spanish moss. Wear- ing just her bra, a swatch of silky gold panties and all that glorious hair. The lawn rolled away behind her, verdant green painted with touches of fall color. Her hands were on him, too, opening his jeans. She'd barely un- zipped them before she gripped his bare buttocks and brought him back to her. Pulling aside the crotch of the panties, he thrust roughly into slick heat with a deep groan of relief she matched with a cry. He pumped into heaven, feeling the friction of the panties' elastic against the shaft of his cock even as he tightened his arm around her waist, keeping her close. Her buttocks rested just on the edge of the bike seat as she held her legs clamped high on his waist. When she leaned against his strength, her head dropped back as he held her with one arm and pushed her bra back up with the other. Holding it at her throat, he let his fingers apply pressure there. Her breasts trembled at his thrusts, his cock pushing in and sliding out of her pink lips, glis- tening and soaking the surrounding thin silk. Fuck me, Jacob. Ah, God . . . "I missed you, " he muttered as she brought herself back up, straightened and curled her arms around him so her head was tucked under his chin, her upper body pinned against his chest.