Her Last Line of Defense by Marie Donovan Page B

blinked hard. So much for being a wild woman.
    “I didn’t stop you ’cause it made me feel bad—I stopped you because it didn’t make you feel good.” He nuzzled her neck until she tipped back her head. “I only want to make you feel good.” He pressed kisses down her neck to her collarbone and rapidly undressed her, being extra careful of her feet. When he was done, she lay naked on the sleeping bags. “Claire, don’t you look pretty enough to eat.”
    “Eat?” Did that mean what she thought?
    “You ever had a man eat you up before?” He pressed his fingers between her thighs. “Take you into his mouth right here?”
    She shook her head, wincing. She’d been in the woods for days without a proper shower, for goodness’ sake. How could he want to do…that?
    “Okay, cher . His tone was gentle. “Someday soon, though. You’ll love it, I promise.”
    Yeah, right. But her embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he stroked her clitoris. “The tongue, it’s not so different from the finger. Hot, wet and slick, it slides over this little jewel back and forth, back and forth.”
    Her hips rotated as his hypnotic voice filled the tent.
    “Your body, it tells me what you like. The finger, it touch, but the tongue, oh, the tongue, it taste what you like.” He withdrew his hand and licked his fingers.
    Her eyes flew wide with shock. “Luc!”
    “Mmm, you taste go-ood.” He grinned down at her with no signs of disgust. “Can’t hardly wait to get my face snuggled up there.” He put his fingers back. “Now if I was eatin’ you up, I’d use both hands to spread your legs wide like so. And I’d take my thumbs to pull back the hood from your little jewel, like so. Then I real gentle tease you, an’ tease you with flicks of my tongue—like this.” As he played with her innermost flesh, Claire swelled and grew under his slow, instructive touch. How did he know the secrets of her body when she’d never discovered them for herself?
    “Well, would you look at that? My fingers are telling me you like showing me your sweetness. Your little chatte is getting all pink and plump.”
    “Chatte?”
    He gave her a sly smile. “ Chatte is a female cat.”
    Cat, kitten—oh. “I never learned that slang word in French class.”
    “I should hope not.” He gave her a look of mock outrage. “If all you fancy prep school girls went around petting your chattes , you never get any homework done.”
    She blushed. “I never did.”
    “Did your homework? You naughty girl.”
    “Not that! The other.”
    “No time like the present.” He caught her hand and brought it down to her, um, well, chatte. She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. “I told you I would teach you everything you needed to know. You need to know this.”
    He moved her fingers across her clitoris. “Learn what you like. Fast and hard?”
    She choked back a moan as he strummed her like she was a guitar.
    “Or slower, in circles?”
    “I…like it…all,” she gasped.
    “Bon. Now you gon’ play with yourself while I fuck you.”
    She stared at him. “Aren’t you, um, going to take off your clothes?”
    “No, don’t think so.” He bent down to kiss her nipple. “I think you might like my soft T-shirt rubbing your titties.” He pressed his chest against her bare breasts and she groaned. It did feel good.
    “And I think you’d like my rough pants slapping your sweet li’l ass.” He stroked himself a few times, his big hand working up and down his erection. “That’s real good. Maybe I touch myself, then you touch yourself, we see who comes first?”
    “No, Luc, I can’t wait.” The sight of him pleasuring himself was extremely arousing. He stared raptly at her naked breasts, hard nipples and wide-open thighs as if she were his most secret fantasy.
    And he was hers. She took a deep breath and touched her clitoris. He groaned, and she took that for encouragement, stroking herself with more boldness than she ever had. She