Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(19)

Lytton blinked with annoyance. “Yes, but…June!” He gave me a little shake. Just a little one, but it caused my head to loll about on my neck, and I could feel my eyeballs start to roll into my skull. “You’re not okay. What’s wrong? Some flu? When did you get back from Africa?”

I laughed drunkenly. I could hear it from outside of myself, as though someone else were laughing on the other side of the bog garden. “I’m fine, Lytton!” Throwing my arms around his neck, I stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

Malarial fever can act like a very strong drug. Once I was stranded in the coastal town of Malindi when fever gripped me. Randy told me later that I was babbling about space aliens invading my brain. Another time in Nairobi, with a hundred and six degree temperature frying my consciousness, I seriously did technically die and have a near death experience, my spirit floating somewhere out beyond Betelgeuse.

This time, maybe due to Lytton’s overpowering sexual influence, I reacted in an embarrassing, slutty way.

Maybe it was the peer pressure of that whore I’d seen on Lytton’s front porch. Suddenly I felt the need to prove that I was desirable. I felt so old and dowdy compared to that chick in my baggy skirt, my only asset my big, nicely rounded boobs. I smashed them against Lytton’s chest, knowing he’d be powerless to resist, and I sucked his luscious lower lip into my mouth.

It worked. Initially he seemed surprised, sort of frozen, but for only a split second. Lytton immediately melted right into it, crushing my upper arms, slashing the tip of his tongue against my lip. I was enveloped in his warm, natural scent, probably high from breathing in the plant life emissions.

I could practically taste the smooth lushness of his creamy skin. Sliding my hand up the corded back of his neck, I plunged my fingertips into his wavy black hair. The roots were slightly damp in the humidity of the greenhouse, and I sensuously massaged his scalp, holding him close to me.

I knew Lytton would be fantastic in bed—or anywhere else, for that matter.

And he would not bitch about his spice rack.





CHAPTER SIX




LYTTON


Lytton felt no remorse whatsoever about taking advantage of a sick girl.

He knew malaria, or yellow fever or whatever she had, wasn’t contagious. The same mosquito that bit her would have to bite him in order for him to catch it.

And who would say no to a stunning, curvy woman throwing herself on him? Lytton went for it.

There was also probably an element of getting revenge on Ford. Ford may be telling the truth when he said he didn’t know he had a brother. That may very well be true. Sadie Driving Hawk may not have even told Cropper he had a son. That could be why Cropper had never acknowledged him or tried to get in touch with him. It was pointless to ask Sadie now, with her living in a dream world of alcohol-fueled brain damage.

Lytton knew it would irk Ford that he was macking on his sister-in-law. It wasn’t difficult for her to arouse Lytton. He’d been keyed up all day. First the confrontation with his f*cking brother. The * had denied his entire existence. As if Lytton wanted to patch into his f*cking stupid club anyway. He must’ve been high to think he wanted to be part of that twisted, deviant “family.” If what June said was true—that in order to be accepted as Ford’s brother, he’d have to join their dumbass club—he’d better give that a long, hard think.

Snatching June from that Citadel parking lot had been an act of revenge. Now, proudly showing off his pot farm, Lytton discovered he had a lot in common with the do-gooding hippie. She literally understood his lingo when he spoke of using molasses as a nutrient, shoot initiation, and somatic embryogenesis. Apparently she had gained knowledge of those things during her UC Berkeley years or her African years. The two of them understood each other.

It was a win-win-win to crush the woman in his hands and tease her with his tongue. She felt delicate, as though made of tiny bird’s bones, her large fat boobs smashed to his chest. His finely tuned Dom’s senses zeroed in on how to handle her submissive side. She was obviously eager to please. She would be highly trainable, even if she’d never actively engaged in any sort of power exchange.

Releasing one of her arms, Lytton slid his hand to lightly cup her juicy tit. Women went wild when he caressed their erect nipples, and Lytton wanted to draw that out, to send her over the edge. She would be panting and begging for it when he slid his cock down her throat. For now, he taunted her with his skilled tongue, holding her jaw in one hand while fluttering his other hand over her tit, her nipple so stiff it stood out like a bullet. He knew her inner cunt was trembling with arousal when he feathered his palm over the sensitive nubbin. He could feel her heart beat against his rib cage.

Lytton prided himself in being able to remain somewhat aloof from his subs. Already he was more swept away than normal, maybe due to the day’s emotional events. He put more passion than usual into his kiss. It meant more to him than usual to bite her upper lip between his incisors, his bulging prick pressing against her belly.

To regain the upper hand, Lytton broke the kiss, keeping her affixed to him with his eyes. He didn’t need to see the coil of nylon cord sitting on the bog garden’s wooden frame. Blindly snatching it, Lytton made short work of a few half hitch knots, twining the rope between her wrists at the small of her back. His vast experience meant he could feel the knots with his fingertips and talk while he worked.