Bucking the Rules(31)

“That it’s not.” He finally managed to slip the button from its hole, then went after the zipper. It rasped down slowly and he wondered for just a moment what kind of underwear she would be wearing.

Would her panties match her bra, simple and serviceable? Maybe she went wild on the bottom and had something completely sexy.

He wasn’t expecting to find smiley faces grinning at him when he parted the denim and pulled it down.

“Don’t worry, be happy?”

She laughed. “I’m not really into lace or G-strings. So I like to have fun with them.”

“I’m all for it.” He pulled down her jeans to her knees, then realized his own knee was starting to ache like a son of a bitch. If he didn’t change positions soon, he’d struggle to get up. Nothing was sexier than stiff joints. “How about we shift this program to the bed?”

“Luckily, I happen to have one mere steps away.” She shuffle-slid over until she could sit on the edge of the queen-size mattress and started to take her simple black shoes off. Shoes she probably wore because they were easier to stand in for eight hours than anything else. When those came off, she started peeling the jeans down. “Hey, cowboy, make tracks. You’re losing steam.”

He realized she meant his clothes, and stood without groaning—barely. He toed off his boots and looked for a good place to put them.

“Under the bed will work.” She grinned when he smirked. “Hey, if I’m going to be taking a cowboy lover, I might as well go for the whole country-western song appeal, right?”

“You have a twisted mind, Jo Tallen.”

Taking that as a compliment, she beamed. “Pants off, cowboy.”

He wasn’t sure if he liked the way she used the word “cowboy,” as if she were checking this one off her list of types of lovers. Fireman, police officer, cowboy, athlete …

Not his concern. He unsnapped his shirt and shrugged out of it, trying his best to not mess his back up in the process. All the night needed was him half naked, locked up on the floor in agony. After that, the pants took seconds and he was completely naked.

He turned to the bed and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head in visual pleasure. She was a pagan goddess, brought down just for his enjoyment. She’d taken her ponytail out, so her long black hair spread out over the pillow around her. Her breasts were full and waiting for his touch once more. One hand rested lightly over her stomach. And the panties were gone, revealing … everything.

He raised a brow and stroked his cock once. He couldn’t help it. From this distance, he couldn’t tell if she was pierced below the belt. But he did see she was waxed. And holy hell, he nearly had to squeeze the base of his cock to head off an early end to the evening.

“I’m impressed.” She rubbed the heel of her hand over her stomach, silver bar glinting in the low light of the one lamp she’d turned on by her bed. “I mean, one always hopes for a decent treat once you get the wrapping off, but …” She crooked a finger to him. “You’re exceeding expectations so far.”

“Let’s see if I can keep that up.” He climbed on the bed next to her, taking his time. He didn’t want to just mount her and go. This wasn’t a horse trailer and they didn’t have ten minutes before his next event. He had all the time in the world, and he was going to take it.





Jo shivered in anticipation. The way Trace watched her, waited for her, stared at her body made her feel beautiful. Sexy. She hadn’t hurt for partners in the past, but half the time she’d felt like they were just taking what was in front of them, rather than pursuing her for her. Bartender at the end of a night at the bar. Convenient. If she got her bell rung in the process, who cared? End goal achieved.

But with Trace’s attention spent all directly on her, she knew what she’d been missing out on. The intensity of the experience when you wanted each other, and nobody else … the need for the other person, because nobody else would do. There were no substitutions. He stared at her like he would have chased after her even if she’d been a bank teller, an accountant, or a stripper.

Well, the stripper was probably a given.

His thick cock brushed against her hip as he moved over her, kissing her shoulder, her breast, the tip of her nipple. He moved down more and once again found the belly button ring she’d gotten at nineteen, and regretted by twenty.

Who knew why she kept it.

Oh, right. Because her mother hated it. Jo wasn’t above being petty when it suited her.

She wondered just for a moment if he cared that her hips had a little more padding than she’d like, if she was a little more round than what was considered sexy. But he said not a word as he found his way down to the crease between her thighs, nudging them open with his elbow.