Uncut Bundle

“Touch me and find out,” he finally said, with a little smile.

And, sweet Jesus, she did.

One night, on the terrace, with only the moon to see by, she undressed for him. She wouldn’t let him help, wouldn’t let him touch her.

She did it by herself, slowly, slowly, with all the innate skill of Eve. By the time the last of her clothing drifted to the tile floor, he was half out of his mind.

He started to pull off his shirt. Mia stopped him.

“My job,” she said softly.

She stripped away his shirt. His jeans. He had nothing on under them and when he sprang free, into her hands, he had to clench his teeth to keep from ending it right then.

“Is this for me?” she purred.

And then she drove him to the edge. Stroked him. Tasted him. Lowered herself onto his straining shaft while she watched his face. She rode him, her head back, her eyes closed in ecstasy, and he let her think she was in control until, with a primitive growl, he rolled her beneath him, pinned her arms above her head and drove her to the thin edge of release again and again, until she wept and begged for mercy.

“Please,” she whispered. “Matthew, please…”

He let go of her wrists. Caught her face and kissed her mouth. Then he rose above her again and drove deep as she screamed his name into the night.

He collapsed on her. He knew he was too big, too heavy, but he couldn’t move, didn’t want to move.

Mia didn’t want him to move, either. When he finally stirred, she held him tight.

“Stay,” she whispered.

He kissed her mouth, her eyes, her throat. Then he rolled onto his back, tucked her into the curve of his shoulder, and held her close against his heart.

Mia sighed, shut her eyes and drifted to sleep.

Matthew watched the fire of the starry night wheel overhead, the fat moon drop from the sky. The past days and nights had changed him. Years ago, a woman he’d been involved with had grown angry at what she called his “removal.” He was, she’d said angrily, a lone wolf.

It was the truth. Except for his brothers, he’d always been most content to be alone. Not anymore. He was most content, hell, he was only happy when he was with Mia.

What did that mean?

What did it mean? Matthew thought, and refused to reach for the word.

Another long, perfect day.

They drove to a little town high in the Andes where you could stroll across the street and step into Brazil. They ate tortillas and empanadas, drank icy cold beer and shared an ice-cream cone.

He bought her a corn-husk doll. She bought him a fetish hung from a leather cord.

It was, the vendor said, a bit of bone from the bravest of creatures. An eagle.

“An eagle for a man who wears an eagle,” Mia said softly, as she slipped the leather cord over Matthew’s head.

To her delight, he blushed.

“Did you really think I hadn’t noticed your tattoo?” she said, smiling up at him. “He’s beautiful. Just like you.”

Matthew’s blush deepened. “You’re gonna pay for all this,” he said, which delighted her even more.

“I hope so.”

The look on his face made her laugh. She took his arm as they began walking again. “Did you get the tattoo when you were in the service?”