Free Unleashing the Storm by Sydney Croft Page A

night breeze cool her, caress her naked, tingling skin.
    When
she looked up again, Tom was heading back, following Shamal now as she cantered
in a beautiful, easy stride. It was hard to believe that at one time the horse
had been so starved she’d been only hours away from death.
    Kira
climbed up on the bales of hay and stretched out, stomach down on the clothes,
wanting a view of Tom as he jogged in, wanting to be ready for him.
    She
lifted her hips slightly, slid her hand down her stomach, dipped her fingers
between her legs and found that she was definitely ready. Her juices already
ran hot and heavy, matching her breathing, her pulse, her desire.
    Burying
her fingers to the second knuckle inside her core, she stroked herself. Her
blood surged, and she knew she wouldn’t last long once Tom entered her. Heck,
she was on the verge now. She imagined her thumb circling her clit was Tom’s
tongue, that her fingers were his…it had been so long since any man had done
more than simply screw her, and she craved the attention.
    Tom’s
attention.
    He
drew closer, her breath grew more rapid and, reluctantly, she slid her hand
from between her legs and admired the way his sinuous, effortless lope brought
him to her quickly. As he slowed, she reached for him. “Tom.”
    A
blur of silvery, shadowy motion hijacked her vision. Pressure and a pinch of pain
shot through her. She barely had time to blink, and then the pressure and pain
evaporated. The hand that had been crunching down on the back of her neck was
gone, balled in a fist beside Tom’s thigh.
    “Fuck!
Kira, what the hell? You scared the shit out of me.”
    She
pushed up to her knees and brushed bits of hay from her cheek that had been
smashed into the bales of hay.
    “Yeah,”
she muttered, moving her hand to rub the back of her neck. “Ditto.”
    His
sharp, angry scent mingled with the sudden musky scent of arousal. Her lack of
clothing had registered.
    “What
are you doing?” His voice, already slightly labored from his run, now sounded a
little low and rough. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
    “Why
aren’t you?”
    He
swore, ran a hand through his hair. “I needed to burn off some energy.”
    She
twisted around to sit on the bale, planted her feet on the edges and spread her
legs wide, letting the cool night air ease her where she burned. “So did I.”
Boldly, she palmed her inner thigh and stroked her way to her sex. Using the
tips of two fingers, she found her bud, swollen, hard, slippery. “I hope you
didn’t burn off too much.”
    His
audible swallow rang in her ears, almost as loud as the hum of blood rushing
through them. “No, ma’am.”
    She’d
never masturbated in front of a man, but thanks to the extra hour, her need had
doubled, and the more aroused he was, the more semen he’d spill. Besides,
inhibitions flew the coop when she was in heat. When her cycle was over, she’d
be humiliated and full of regret at the things she’d done, but right now she
didn’t care.
    Biting
back a moan, she slid her two fingers, one on each side of her clit, up and
down, and then added a grind with her hips.
    “I’ve
imagined your tongue doing this,” she said, and the way he watched her, his
gaze like blue fire, set her blood alight like her veins contained gasoline.
    “I’ve
imagined the same thing.” He took a step toward her, and though she was dying
to let him do what she suspected he was going to do, she couldn’t wait any
longer.
    Quickly,
she shimmied down the hay pile. She strutted up to him, drew a finger through
the sheen of moisture on his bare, muscular chest. “Another time. Right now I
need you inside me.”
    “You
aren’t afraid to ask for what you want, are you?”
    She
shuddered at the sound of his voice, at the heavy scent of her arousal, and
his, at the way his nostrils flared as she dragged her hand down through the
light dusting of chest hair. “Never.”
    Spreading
her fingers, she flattened her palm over his abs, took in the