Bucking the Rules(32)

And then making her moan as his tongue found her center with deadly accuracy. He got right to the heart of it—to the heart of her—as he licked and worked his tongue expertly. Alternating between deep, penetrating licks and quick flicks of the tongue directly on her clit, he had her biting back moans she knew would come out closer to sobs. Once he added in a finger, she couldn’t keep her hips still. She bucked and swerved and tried to keep up with his thrusts, his sliding licks, his quick sucks until she couldn’t even keep track anymore and relented to the oncoming orgasm.

A freight train might have been a softer blow. She screamed, turning her mouth into the pillow to muffle the sound, even though nobody lived near her. Some habits were hard to break.

He kissed his way back up, nuzzling into her neck. “Don’t go anywhere.”

And then he was gone. She sat up quickly. Where the hell was he?

But in the dark she could barely make out his form heading for the pile of clothes he’d left by the door. He picked up his jeans and rummaged through the pockets until he came up with a wallet.

Condom. Right. She smiled and waited until he was properly suited up before patting the top of the nightstand. “Just for future reference, I keep a stash in here.”

“Do you now?” The bed dipped as he joined her once more.

“Modern woman, and all that.” She looped her arms around his neck. “All I need is a kid clinging to my leg while I’m trying to sling drinks downstairs.”

He froze for a second, and she wondered if he’d misunderstood her. His face, what she could see of it in the dim light, gave away nothing. She’d meant it as a joke, but did he think she was serious? Time to smooth that over. “I mean, kids are cute and all, but they sort of don’t mesh with my lifestyle.”

He relaxed a little, one muscle at a time, and then he kissed her once more. Crisis averted. The tip of his penis nudged against her clit, and the little extra post-orgasmic zing made her squeal against his mouth.

Embarrassing.

But he didn’t seem to mind, or maybe he didn’t even notice. He was too intent on kissing her blind. And God, it’d be a fair tradeoff to go blind if she could have a kiss like this every night. He was methodically persistent, not leaving any centimeter of her lips untouched, unkissed. One hand found hers and linked their fingers together, raising their arms over her head. The intimate link that had nothing to do with sex was momentarily startling. His warm, roughened palm over her smaller hand felt so … trusting. Safe. So natural.

Back to physically gratifying sex before she started getting stupid ideas.

Her hips rose and she moved a little until she positioned him right where she wanted him. But he had to be the one to push in.

“Come on, cowboy. Let’s giddy up.” She grinned at the stupid double entendre. But Trace didn’t catch the joke. Or at least, if he did, he wasn’t amused by it.

“Say my name.”

“What?”

He pushed in, just a little, before pulling out again. “Just say my name.”

She had nothing against a little bedroom talk, but that was a first. “Trace?”

“No. Say it like you want me. Use it.”

Ah. Now she was catching on. She used her free hand to stroke down his cheek, the beard stubble catching on her own calluses. “Trace. I want you, Trace.”

With fierce pleasure, he drove into her, their hips bumping together. She arched back, finding a more comfortable angle while he pulled out and did it again, repeating the movement until she nodded and moaned. God, was she really going to come again? After already having one turn on the Ferris wheel? She never came from sex alone. What the hell?

Oh, who was she to look a gift orgasm in the mouth?

Trace’s rhythm built her up until she was ready to cry for him to end it before she combusted. Then he reached down with his free hand and found her clit once more with precision and gave her that final boost into her second orgasm of the evening.

Trace followed quickly, jerking above her until he let out a hoarse cry and then collapsed over her before shifting quickly to the side to keep her from bearing all his weight.

“Yee haw,” she whispered.

“You have this obsession with cowboys, don’t you?” His words were slurred, as if he were drunk on sexual excitement.

“When in Rome … or South Dakota. I forget how the saying goes.”

Trace stood and headed to her small bathroom. She waited to see what his next move would be. Damn if she would ask him to stay all night. Not her style, even if she wanted to. Would he just come back to bed? Or pick up his things and be on his way.

She got her answer quickly after that, when he shuffled back into the room and to the bed. After lifting the sheets, he crawled in and pulled her against him.