Down and Dirty(33)

“Jesus. That’s fucking—” He broke off and dropped to her, his hot mouth closing over one nipple and sucking.

“Shane!” She moaned, tossing her head back, letting the heat and pressure of his lips and tongue drag her closer to the edge.

He pulled away and blew on the distended tip. “Peach. I wondered if the memory was skewed or it was a trick of the moonlight. I love peach. And so sensitive.” He nipped her, murmuring his approval when she gasped. “Let your legs down.”

She obeyed, releasing the death grip she had around him to let her legs dangle over the edge of the table. He stepped back a few inches and cupped her denim-covered pelvis, rubbing her in slow, firm circles. She bit her lip to keep from chanting his name when he lowered his mouth back toward her nipple.

“Can you come like this?” His warm breath washed over her, and she wanted to drag him closer until his lips were on her again. “I think you can. Come for me, Cat,” he murmured, and closed his mouth over the straining bud, sucking and licking, matching the relentless rhythm of the sensual massage between her thighs.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, every nerve ending at attention, the sensation hurtling her toward release. He pinched her nipples sharply between his teeth, and the pleasure-pain sent her flying. The waves of ecstasy rolled over, and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing. Through the buzzing in her ears, she heard Shane’s hums of encouragement. She also heard the sound of a car door slamming shut.

She froze but for the fading spasms of her orgasm, and her eyes popped open. Then, a second car door slammed. This one hit her like a slap, clearing away the haze of lust.

“Your parents,” she whispered furiously, pushing him away and yanking her sweater down.

He lifted his head, and stared at her blankly, eyes hot with need. “What?”

“Your parents are home!” She shoved him hard and slid off the table, trying to ignore the little flip her stomach was doing at the sight of his firm lips swollen from the kissing and sucking.

“Fix…that,” she said, pointing urgently at the massive erection that was attempting to burst through his zipper. She grabbed her bra and stuffed it into her pocket.

“Okay, let’s just have a seat in the living room and stay calm.” He straightened the centerpiece they’d manage to displace and led her the few feet to the drop-in living room. They’d just sat down in front of the fireplace when the door opened.

Cat ran a quick hand through her mussed hair and worked up a smile.

“Hey guys,” Shane called to his parents as they stepped into the hallway. He adjusted his jeans with final tug before they rounded the corner. “Did you win or what?”

“We split,” Martha Decker said, stepping into the room with a smile. “Hey there, sweetheart,” she said when she caught sight of Cat. She ambled over and pulled her up for a baby-powder-scented hug. “How are your parents doing?”

“They’re good, thanks for asking.” She resisted the urge to fidget under the older woman’s sharp gaze. Were her lips puffy, too? She quelled the need to touch them, knowing it would only draw attention to them if they were.

Shane’s dad came into the room carrying an empty Crock-Pot. “Hello, Mary Catherine. Good to see you again.” He set the pot on the dining room table and shifted his gaze between Shane and her. “So what are you kids up to? You find my boy a wife yet?”

“Oh, Aaron, stop teasing them. He’s not going to find a wife on the computer, are you, Shane? He’s just looking to make some nice new friends.” She slung her purse on the arm of a wing chair and reached down to pat her son’s cheek. “You feel a little warm,” she said with a frown. “Are you getting sick?”

Cat kept her eyes on Shane, hoping no one was looking at her because her face was on fire.

Shane shook his head. “No, although I count that as a miracle what with the climate change. Your hands are just cold from being outside.”

She released him and pulled off her down-filled white coat. “Did you both have stew?” she asked, her eyes flicking to Cat.

“Yes, thank you. It was delicious.”

“I made apple pie for dessert, if you’d like some.”

She wasn’t one to say no to pie, but the need to get out of there trumped her sweet tooth. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m stuffed. Can I take a rain check?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Martha said. “You can take a slice home. Follow me.” She pulled Cat to her feet and led her by the hand into the newly renovated gourmet kitchen. “Have a seat while I cut you a piece and wrap it.”