Wildfire Smokejumper Trilogy

Chapter 4-12

“Oh God! Don’t stop!” Laura’s moan was driving Akbar wild. His pulse had anchored between his legs; he could feel it pounding there.

But she’d been so awkward and stiff when she lay down on the bed, that he’d rolled her onto her stomach and started a massage. He’d begun at her scalp, scrubbing his fingers through the thick masses of chestnut hair so soft he’d leaned down and rubbed his face in it. Then he worked her neck and shoulders and along her spine. Only copping a feel of the ever-so-soft skin on the sides of her breasts a few times.

She had about the nicest behind he’d ever gotten his hands on. Between the running, the horseback riding, and the hiking, it was quite amazing. He dug into and loosened up the gluts, driving her pelvis down into the mattress as he did so which was eliciting her current moans of pleasure.

He shifted down to her feet and traveled up each of those long legs, feeling each muscle group let go in turn, working the blood back up toward her heart. When he ran his teeth over her insole, she actually cried out. He’d been with women who responded, and others who not so much. But he’d never been with one who lost all semblance of control and didn’t seem to care about it.

Laura rolled onto her back and gasped out, “Don’t you dare stop.”

It had almost killed him to sit outdoors with her not wearing a stitch of clothing. But he’d had to do it. Had to see her out in nature. The n***d Amazonian woman with the trees soaring behind her, completely in her element. Every inch of that long, lean frame of hers dappled by the sunlight. She was mesmerizing.

He did as he’d dreamed of doing as she sat so at ease in her chair, that perfectly upright horsewoman posture of hers absolutely slaying him as she asked him about his childhood for crying out loud. That there was enough blood in his brain for him to speak at all was amazing. He’d thought of nothing but starting at the tips of her unpainted toes and discovering every glorious inch of her.

Now fingers stroked, hair brushed on skin to tease, mouth tasted. She opened to him as he progressed upward, digging her fingers into his hair to hold him in place between her legs as she lit like a fire until she was burning so brightly it blinded his senses.

Except for a few times on the fire line, he’d never seen a woman face danger the way she had that morning. Definitely not a civilian. Laura may have been on ice and snow rather than char and flame, but she’d fought for her life and that of those around her and she’d won. He did everything he could think to show her how magnificent she truly was.

She dug protection out of the bedside table and flapped it at him. Unable to stand it any longer, he sheathed himself and drove into her. Her heat scorched. Her fists beat against his chest even as her mouth pulled his down to lie upon her.

The fire that burned in him roared out of control, burned, flared, and was ultimately doused. But still it did not abate. It was merely, finally, at long last quenched—for the moment. With Laura Jenson, the fire of his need for her felt endless.