Rebecca Zanetti - Under the Covers

“Really? What was that statement?”

“A promise.” He unclasped his jeans and dropped them to the floor. “I’ll take a little teasing from you, beautiful. But you cross me? I’ll cuff you and make you beg.”

Her breath caught low in her throat. She slanted her lips in a small smile. “You have something I’d beg for?”

His smile was anything but small, anything but sweet. “Let’s find out.” All wolf, he ripped off her skirt. For a quiet moment, he looked his fill.

Naked, exposed on his bed, she remained still. The want in his eyes warmed her—gave her a confidence she rarely felt. So she let him look.

With a low hum of appreciation, he slid his hands over her ankles, up her calves, across her thighs. His mouth followed, pausing at her thigh to nip.

Wait a minute. Panic rushed down her throat. This was something she didn’t do. She wiggled, partially sitting up to stop him.

He flattened his hand across her stomach. Firm and absolute. His head lifted, and he pinned her with a look.

She swallowed. “No, er, Quinn. I don’t ah, do—”

“I’ll get the cuffs.” His breath brushed her clit.

A strangled gasp hissed out with her breath. He was serious. He’d actually cuff her. Her mind spinning, she lay back down.

He rewarded her with a soft kiss on her mound.

This was way too intimate. She’d lay still, kind of ignore him, and he’d move on to something else. Something she could enjoy. “This really isn’t my thing, Qui—”

He licked her. Slow, sure, he licked her. Electric shocks whipped out from his mouth. Static filled her brain.

Those wide shoulders pressed against her inner thighs, forcing her legs open. “You might as well relax, baby. You taste like honeysuckle and spices, and I could do this all night.” He spoke right against her flesh, sending vibrations deep into her body. “In fact, I just might.”

Her eyelids fluttered. With a deep sigh, she relaxed.

Slowly, one finger entered her. She arched against his mouth, biting her lip to keep from moaning.

A sharp nip to her thigh narrowed her focus. “No holding back, Juliet.” He slid another finger inside her and crisscrossed them.

A whimper escaped her.

Alternating between licks, nips, even bites, he had her on edge way too quickly. Never quite providing enough pressure to push her over, he kept her at the precipice. Her body stretched tight like a string. Need trembled down her legs. She curled her toes, almost welcoming the cramping pain, just to have something to ground her.

His fingers pumped, his mouth licked, and his deep baritone hummed against her.

The sheriff was playing and truly enjoying the game.

She wanted to swear at him, but every instinct she had warned her not to challenge him. Not right now. He liked her on the edge, and he liked control. So she let him play until she couldn’t take any more.

Sweat dotted her brow, her mind fuzzed, and her body gyrated against him. “Quinn, please—”

He lifted his head, even while his fingers continued to torture her. “Please, what, Juliet?”

She tried to concentrate. “You…know.”

His dimple flashed. “No. I really don’t. Say the words.”

The low growl that rumbled from her chest shocked the heck out of her. “Quinn.”

“Those aren’t the words.” He swirled his tongue around her aching clit with just enough pressure to make her sob.

“Stop torturing me,” she ground out.

“Want me to stop? Maybe make a late dinner?” He sank his teeth into her other thigh, sure to leave a mark. His mark.

The thought nearly threw her into the orgasm he dangled out of reach. “I may kill you.”

The sharp slap to her clit sheeted the room white. “Now, darlin’…threats aren’t nice. Do better.”

She very well may hate this side of him. “Why are you doing this?”

“You like it.”

The fact that her body was on fire, that she was wetter than she’d ever been and was ready to beg? There was something definitely wrong with her, because she apparently did like it. Like him. All of him. “Please let me come.”

“With pleasure.” Wriggling his finger against a spot inside her that had her legs straightening, he scraped his tongue over her clit with firm pressure.

She exploded like she’d swallowed dynamite. Flashes of nearly painful pleasure shot through her veins, rippling through her. She arched into his mouth, both hands clamping on his head, her body undulating in desperate waves.

Somebody screamed, and yes, it was probably her. She rode out the pulses and murmured his name as she came down.

Gasping, she released him and pressed one hand on her chest. Her heart beat rapidly against her palm. “Wow.”

“That was nice.” He shifted against the bed, his shoulders spreading her legs wider. “Let’s try that again.”

“No.” Her head jerked against the pillow. “No more.” She sat up to glare at him. Her body was only partially sated…she needed him inside her and now. “That was great. Wonderful. Now get up here.”

His eyelids lifted until his heated gaze met hers.

She stopped moving. Frozen, like prey catching sight of a hunter. “Um.”

“Beg me.” He said the words calmly.

“No way.”

“Exactly.” He plunged two fingers inside her.

Her body short-circuited, and she flopped back down. He was going to kill her. Finish her off for all time. But, as his mouth got to work again, she had to admit it wasn’t a bad way to go.

Quinn took his time and was thorough. Very thorough. It might have been minutes, perhaps hours. At some point, she was shifting against him, seeking release. Needing to quench the desperate fire he so easily stoked in her. Finally, he moved up her body, taking time to appreciate both breasts.

Then his mouth took hers. Deep, intent, he kissed her like they had forever.

She clasped her ankles across his back, pulling in. His engorged cock lay heavy against the apex of her legs, and she pressed against him, gasping at the exquisite pressure.

He slid inside her, just a bit, and then stopped.

She yanked on his neck, pulling him closer. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop, what?” Sweat sprang out on his forehead. His biceps vibrated as he held still.

“Quinn.”

His head dropped, and he sucked her earlobe into his heated mouth. “Tell me what you want.”

“You. God, I want you.” She slid against him.

He growled and gripped her hip, holding her in place. “What do you want me to do?”

He was terrible. Truly terrible. “Anything you want. For God’s sake, just do it.” She pulled his hair.

His smile flashed dangerous teeth. Pulling her hip up, he shoved inside her with one strong thrust. Her sex squeezed him. Even though she was primed and ready, the shock of his size had her gasping for breath.

Sliding his arms around her thighs, he widened her and began to pound. So strong, so fast, so powerful He plunged inside her until all she could do was grab on to his defined biceps and feel.

A ball of lava uncoiled inside her.

With a cry of his name, she broke.

Juliet snuggled her butt closer into Quinn’s groin, playing with the hair on his arm, which was lying heavily across her waist. “I like spooning,” she murmured sleepily.

He kissed her head.

The storm continued to rage outside, but inside, only contentment reigned.

For now.

“Understand the rules, darlin’?” he rumbled.

“If you have a nightmare, don’t touch you. Don’t try to awaken you. I should slide out of the bed and let you wake up on your own.”

A thick sigh stirred her hair. “I don’t like this,” he muttered.

“You won’t hurt me.” She believed the truth in her statement with everything she was. “Believe me. I know.”

“I wouldn’t mean to hurt you, but you’re so small.” He shifted as if to slide from the bed.

She grabbed his arm and held tight. “I’m much stronger than you think.” Even if he did lash out, she could handle it. “Trust me.”

“Hmmm.” He relaxed against her.

“I understand how much you like to be in control, and I know this is scary for you.” She wiggled a little more. “You’re incredibly brave to face this, and I’m honored to be here.” God, she wished her demons could be faced down, like his. Hers resulted from her own stupidity, and there was nothing she could do but outrun them. “I…care about you, Quinn.”

He rolled her over and smoothed hair from her face. “I care about you, too. This is going somewhere, Juliet.”

Her heart shattered.

She blinked and opened her mouth to say something. Anything.

He grinned. “No hurry, sweetheart.”

“I know we’re good together. But it doesn’t change—”

“Change what?” His eyebrows rose.

“You promised. No shadows tonight.”

He studied her. “You’re not married.”

Her eyes widened. “Of course not.”

He brushed a kiss across her nose. “Well then, anything else I can handle.”

If he only knew.

In her past, she ran drugs. Kind of. No big deal. No problem, right? Her heart hurt. “Night, Quinn. Sweet dreams.” She rolled over, sure she’d never sleep.

…

Morning arrived too soon, and a fully dressed sheriff shook her awake.

She sat up sleepily. “You didn’t have a nightmare?”

“Nope.” He lifted a shoulder. “We’ll have to try again.”

She forced a smile. A second chance wasn’t going to happen. Plus, her dreams were filled with an odd painter named Bob who kept telling her to give the truth to Quinn. While the imaginary guy may be correct, she’d make up her own mind. “Why are you dressed?”

“I had a call—need to go to work.” He leaned down and kissed her. Slow and deep. Finally, he stood back up. “Take your time. There’s coffee on, and I think there are bagels in the pantry. Maybe.”

She nodded. “I need to get to work, anyway. Sophie’s show was pushed up, and we have a lot to do.”

He reached in the night table drawer and grabbed a gun to tuck at his waist. “Tonight, Juliet. We talk.” With a hard look, he turned on his cowboy boot and left the room.

Well, that wasn’t good.

…

The rain drizzled the day into gray. Quinn tipped the brim of his hat to shake off the water, his boots sinking in the soggy weeds. The wind cut through his sheriff’s jacket as if it wanted to draw blood. An abandoned barn crumbled behind him, while a dead body lay before him. It had been a while since he’d seen a dead body.

Male, about six feet tall, long, blond hair. Maybe around thirty? “Bullet hole, back of the head,” Quinn murmured. “Execution style?”

“Probably.” DEA Agent Reese Johnson nodded to the state coroner. “You can take him.”

Federal evidence techs bustled around, collecting evidence from grass and dirt.

Reese’s phone buzzed, and he flipped the lid open. “Prints found a match. Leroy Vondoni, recently paroled from Rikers. Shouldn’t be out of New York state.”

“Rap sheet?” Quinn asked.

“Possession, robbery, intent to sell, assault, attempted murder.” Reese tapped his phone. “Nice guy.”

Why the hell was Vondoni in Maverick? More importantly— “While I appreciate you’re calling me in on this, why is the DEA in my county?” Quinn eyed a man he’d trust with his life…in fact, he had at one time. But that didn’t mean the DEA could set up camp in Montana.

Reese tucked his phone in his back pocket. “We got an anonymous tip the body would be here. An hour later, we were wheels up from LA, and here we are. I called from the plane the first chance I found.”

Quinn narrowed his gaze…and waited.

Reese watched the coroner load the body. “I was heading here anyway at the end of the week. Our sources have confirmed there’s a large shipment coming down from Canada, and we think Montana will be the entry point.”

“Drugs?” Irritation washed down Quinn’s throat. What he wouldn’t give for a couple of old guys running moonshine.

“Prescription.” Reese yanked off his Dodger cap and wiped his forehead. “The new front line. Oxy is more valuable than gold on the streets right now.”

“When?” Quinn asked.

“Don’t know. Gut feeling? Soon. What do you think, Sarge? Your gut has to be humming.”

“Sheriff,” Quinn said absently. His gut was fucking rolling. “Soon is right.”

Reese cleared his throat. “Are you going to fight me on jurisdiction?”

“No. I don’t have near the resources the feds do. That fingerprint-scanner thing is impressive as hell.”