Not My First Rodeo 2 Boxed Set

by Donna Alward

  Somehow, that made it even more exciting.

  He started to talk without being a hundred percent sure what he was going to say. “I’m not some naïve kid. As you probably noticed, I don’t have any trouble getting dates.”

  “Just keeping them,” she said with a grin.

  “Hey,” he said in a wounded voice, “no one’s thrown drink in my face tonight, you know.”

  They laughed together. For the first time, Tommy felt like he wasn’t screwing this up hopelessly. That feeling only got stronger when she didn’t come back with the obvious retort—yet.

  “But the thing is, girls my own age are… I don’t want to say needy, because that’s not quite the right word, but they don’t know what they want. By and large, they seem to think that they have to be what I want them to be and that’s not what I want.” He frowned. “I’m not sure I’m making sense. Sorry.”

  Something in her gaze shifted. Deepened, maybe. He hoped like hell it was a good sign. “No, I’m following you. Go on.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like them, the girls my age. But it’s exhausting, trying to figure out what they want because they’re not going to tell you and they won’t ask what you want, because they’re too busy trying to guess on their own. And I know it sounds crazy, but when I was flirting with all of those women—not girls—online, it wasn’t like that at all. Most of them had been divorced and most of them knew what they didn’t want. They didn’t have any trouble telling me what they wanted, what made them feel good. It took a lot of the guesswork out of it, I guess.” He winced again. “That makes it sound bad, doesn’t it?”

  She didn’t say anything right away, which scared him. But she didn’t throw her drink in his face and she didn’t get up and walk out. She just sat there.

  Something had changed. She was…well, maybe not breathing harder, but she was breathing deeper. Her chest—the chest that he was trying hard not to stare at—was rising more forcefully, taking up more the space between them. He was failing at the not staring, but he couldn’t help himself. Just a quick peek.

  “Tommy.”

  He snapped his eyes back to her face, feeling like a jerk yet again.

  Her mouth opened, but then she shut it again, looking confused.

  Dammit. He hadn’t done a good enough job and this was too weird. She was sitting over there, trying to figure out how to politely shut him down. Maybe he had that coming.

  Shit.

  Chapter Five

  She could not be hearing this right—could she? Was this fine young buck sitting over there telling her that he wanted a woman to tell him what she wanted? Or was he saying he wanted a woman to tell him what to do?

  Was there even a difference between the two?

  She didn’t know if it was a good thing or bad thing that he looked almost as confused as she felt. It was reassuring—it added a lot of credence to his claim that he had never done this particular thing before. And his story about helping out his dad was, all in all, markedly thoughtful—especially since it seemed to have ended well.

  But there were all those dates she’d seen go wrong on him, all those women who’d stormed out after he’d said something to them. That man and the man sitting before her here didn’t seem to be the same man. Because right now, Tommy was saying almost everything she needed to hear. He wanted a woman who knew what she wanted? A woman who wasn’t afraid to be herself? And he was reasonably confident he could find that in an older woman.

  His cheeks colored and he began to stammer out apology. “Look, I’m sorry—that wasn’t—I mean…”

  “Be quiet,” she told him—not in a mean way, but because she was to trying to think through everything that she’d learned. And she couldn’t quite do that if he were trying to take it back.

  “I’ve blown my chance, haven’t I? I mean with you.”

  She let that statement hang in the air for a minute. “You get points for honesty.”

  He managed a half smile. “Yeah? How many points?”

  Wasn’t that the $10,000 question?

  “It’s…complicated,” she finally said, which got a grin out of him. “But no, I don’t think you’ve blown your chance yet.”

  His eyebrows jumped up and his half smile looked more real. “So, what about you? What do you want?”

  She thought about some of the other things he’d said, about how the young college girls were always trying to make themselves into what they thought he wanted. Had she been so different, back when she was in college? No. She had been exactly the same. If anything, she’d been worse than all of them. She’d gotten married because she thought that’s what Drake had wanted. Because she’d been stupid enough to think she could make herself into what he wanted.

  She shrugged. “I was married once—it didn’t stick. I think these days they call it a starter marriage, less than three years long. I was young and foolish and he was…not.” She wrinkled her nose at the memories. “I think I used to be a lot like your dates,” she admitted.

  “But you’re not, not anymore.” For a college boy, he suddenly sounded very confident—almost cocky. “Anyone can see that.”

  “Can you?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, sounding more confident by the second. He leaned forward, putting both elbows on the table and closing the distance between them. Carly could feel the tension between them tightening. “I can see it.”

  She realized she was tracing patterns on the table with her fingernail again.

  “How far are you willing to take this?” It was a bold question because it put aside any pretense of small talk or chitchat or getting to know you or whatever the hell it was that they were doing.

  Something in his eyes changed and the air between them heated. He was so good-looking. It almost wasn’t fair.

  “I’m not looking to settle down. I’m not even looking for a date to a wedding in a couple of months. I’m not sure I have long-term in me. But,” he said, and for the first time since he put his hand on the small of her back, he touched her. He reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm, stroking his thumb over her skin. His hands weren’t soft and smooth, but rough and calloused. Her mind went back to the shy cowboy that had married her friend Dee and all the ways Dee had said that her new husband was so good with his hands.

  “But,” he went on, “if you’re looking for something else, something fun with no strings and no commitment, I can give it to you. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

  She exhaled. “Anything?” she teased—but it wasn’t teasing, not really. Could he seriously be saying what she wanted him to be saying?

  What did she want him to be saying?

  What did she want?

  She felt the tension in his body as the tips of his fingertips scraped against her skin. “Within reasonable limits,” he said and she thought she might be hearing things, but his voice almost sounded shaky.

  She hoped like hell it was a good kind of shaky. She leaned into his touch. “Nothing weird. Nothing super kinky.”

  “Why don’t you give me an example?” She saw him swallow. “Why don’t you tell me what you want me to do to you?”

  Dear God, he was serious. No one had ever asked. No one had even thought about asking. What she wanted had always been secondary to what they wanted. The boys she climbed into the back seat with in high school, the little-more-than boys in college. And Drake—Carly should’ve known better, but didn’t.

  She wasn’t playing around anymore. Suddenly, almost twenty years of not getting what she wanted felt like it was weighing her down, a stone around her neck. If she didn’t say what she wanted—if Tommy didn’t give it to her this very instant—then she was going to lose all hope.

  Now all she had to do was say the words. He was still cupping her face, and she was still leaning into his touch. It was an intimate gesture, but it wasn’t intimate enough.

  “What would you say,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, “if I told you to take me home?”

  Th
e air between them got even thinner as he lifted her face toward him. “Is that all? You just want me to take you home?” He stared into her eyes, his pupils dilated, and his breath warm against her skin. “Or is there something you need me to do to you when we get there?”

  “Cocky, aren’t we?”

  Oh, that smile—that was going to be the end of her. But what a way to go.

  “It’s not cocky if I can back it up. But I can’t back it up until you tell me what you need.”

  She’d given him a chance and he’d convinced her. Now, she had to convince him. This was quite possibly an once-in-a-lifetime chance, and she couldn’t let it slip by because she was afraid. She wasn’t going to be afraid to get what she wanted.

  “Take me home,” she heard herself say and was amazed at how confident and powerful she sounded. But this was who he was telling her she could be right now—a confident, powerful woman who always got what she wanted. “You’re going to go down on me until I come.”

  …

  Tommy almost came right there. The image of his head buried between Carly’s legs was more than enough to pull his trigger, but the way she’d said it? No—that wasn’t right. The way she’d ordered him to do it? Hello.

  “And I will be very unhappy,” she went on, “if you come before I do. I’m tired of men coming before me.”

  The effect those words had on him surprised even Tommy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever needed to come so badly in his entire life, but suddenly, he didn’t think he could—not until she told him to. It was weird and maybe it should have been scary, but it wasn’t.

  It was as if they were frozen for a moment, unable to move. He was still cupping her face she will still staring up at him with those big blue eyes of hers. Her challenge hung in the air. On those rare occasions when he’d been with a girl who was able to give a voice to her needs, they’d always phrased it in this, “well, maybe we could if you wouldn’t mind” kind of way, as if they were afraid of offending him.

  He’d always known that Carly was a different kind of woman. There was no pussyfooting around this.

  What would she do if he actually came before she did? Worst case, she wouldn’t let him eat her out anymore. And that was bad enough. “My car or yours?”

  “You can follow me home.”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he said. “We can leave my truck here.” He dug out his wallet and fished out two twenties—more than enough to cover the bar tab. Then he pulled Carly out of the booth and helped her get into her coat. He was trying to keep it cool and calm and collected, not like he was a raving lunatic on the verge of losing his load in the middle of a public bar, but his hands were shaking. He didn’t know if she wanted to be dragged out of here to be ravished.

  He did know that if it wasn’t the dead of winter in Montana, he wouldn’t be able to make it much past the car.

  Maybe he ought to tell her that. As he settled her coat on her shoulders, he leaned forward and whispered, “If it weren’t freezing out, I’d eat you out in the car. Then I’d take you home and do it again.”

  She gasped and leaned back against his chest. When she looked up at him, her mouth was open and her eyes had somehow gotten even wider. But that was the answer he needed. His words had struck home. He reached up and stroked his thumb over her lower lip. “What do you taste like, Carly? I’m going to find out if it takes me all night.”

  She grabbed his hands and began hauling him out of the bar. Tommy glanced back over his shoulder to see the bartender give them the thumbs-up. He felt like laughing. This was really happening and it was fabulous. He had never been so excited in his entire life.

  It had started to snow, and he wondered if he’d have to dig out his truck in the morning and then he figured he didn’t care. Carly led him to a late-model Jeep and he cleaned off the windows for her while it warmed up. This was another disadvantage of dating in winter. As much as he needed to get back to her place and get her out of that dress, there were certain basic necessities that couldn’t be avoided—and seeing out the windshield was one of them.

  Finally, the windows were clear and the Jeep was producing enough warmth that they wouldn’t die of frostbite—and they were off. It turned out that they didn’t have very far to go. Carly lived less than three miles away and since it was now past nine on a Monday night, there was very little traffic. They made it in less than fifteen minutes. Tommy wanted to touch her as they drove, but common sense dictated that feeling up a woman who was driving on slick, snow-covered roads was a bad idea and anyway, she was wearing a lot of wool. So he kept his hands to himself during the short drive. It was a waste of a perfectly good car trip, though.

  Carly lived in a small bungalow in an older section of town. Her house was much smaller than the apartment he shared with his roommates, but it was very private. She had her own garage and everything. To a guy who had to share a bathroom with five other slobs, it was a nice place and he told her that.

  “It’s really small,” she said, as if that was a strike against her something.

  “It’s cozy,” he corrected as she unlocked the back door and opened it.

  The door opened into a small kitchen. Carly flipped on the light. “Well, here we are.”

  Some of the tension that they’d built in the bar had slipped away and he could tell that she was having second thoughts.

  Oh no. He wasn’t going to let her talk herself out of this. If she said no, he’d have no choice but to respect that—but he was going to make damn sure he got a yes. A very enthusiastic yes at that.

  He stepped into her and cupped her cheek with both hands, lifting her face to his. But he didn’t kiss her. He waited. “You’re in charge here,” he told her.

  He didn’t know why he said it, but it was apparently the right thing to say. She exhaled in a little sigh and her eyelids fluttered as she touched her palms to the back of his hands. Even through her thick winter coat and his sheepskin jacket, he could feel the warmth of her body beginning to radiate. She was going to light him up. He leaned in closer. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t tell me to.”

  She breathed deeply, which caused her breasts to rub up against his chest. A smile played across her lips. Then she opened her eyes and the distance between them got even smaller. “Anything?”

  He grinned. Their lips were barely touching—certainly not anything that would qualify as a kiss in the real world. “Within reason, of course. But you’ve served me for six months. I think it’s time I serve you.”

  Then he waited. The next move was hers—it had to be.

  But he wanted that woman in the bar to come back. The woman who looked him in the eye and told him that he wasn’t going to come until she did.

  Her eyes fluttered closed again. “I haven’t played this game before.”

  “I haven’t either. But I want to—with you. Tell me what to do, Carly.” He was all but begging at this point. “Tell me what to do to you.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly against his skin. Then her hands moved. She took off his hat and dropped it on the counter. She raked her fingers through his hair and, so gently at first that he almost didn’t notice it, she began to force his head down. Not to her lips, though.

  “Get started.”

  Tommy couldn’t help the low moan that broke out of him as he fell to his knees in front of her. He jerked the belt on her coat open and didn’t even bother shoving it off. Instead, he ran his hands up her legs, over the black nylon that went with her black dress. Until he hit something that made him moan again.

  Stockings. And a garter belt.

  “Oh sweet Jesus,” he managed to get out as he ran his fingers over the edge of the thigh-highs. “Did you do this for me?”

  She didn’t answer the question. “Don’t you dare come before I do,” she said, in a much more severe voice.

  There was no denying the way his balls clenched at that statement. “Yeah, that’s it, babe,” he murmured as he sat on his heels.
He lifted her dress up and pressed a kiss right above the stocking on her left thigh. “Tell me what you like.”

  There was a slight pause as he took in the magnitude of what he was seeing. Black stockings, black garter belt, black lacy panties. He shifted, trying to take the pressure off his dick, and kissed the other thigh, this time on the inside. As he let his lips trail over the thin strip of exposed skin above the stocking, he slid his hands up the back of her thighs and over her tight ass. He squeezed her cheeks, pulling her farther apart. As he did so, he could smell the scent of her sex rolling off her. Oh yeah—she was at least as turned on as he was.

  He pivoted slightly to the right, leaning her back against the countertop so that he could angle her hips toward him. Then he kissed the black lace that covered her pubic hair. “Like this?” He looked up at her from his knees.

  “Less talk,” she said, but he was pleased to see that she spoke through gritted teeth. How much would it take to get her to let go? And could he hold on that long?

  God, he hoped so.

  He gave her ass another hard squeeze before he began to nip at the black lace with his teeth. He bit down into the fabric so that she could feel his teeth without him actually biting her. She made a high sound in the back her throat that was almost a whimper, but needier.

  She needed him. She needed what he could give her. And he had to not screw this up.

  Sitting on his heels in cowboy boots was not how he would’ve chosen to do this, but the pain was worth it when Carly threaded her fingers through his hair again and pulled him closer against her. He buried his nose against her sex, the smell of her pushing him harder and harder. The blue jeans were punishing his dick, but they kept him from coming and that was the most important thing right now.

  “God, yes,” she breathed as he squeezed her ass again.

  Correction. The second most important thing right now. The most important was making sure that she got everything she wanted.

  Her hips lifted of her own accord, and he let go of one of her ass cheeks to trail his finger around the front. “You smell so good,” he said against her skin and then he pulled the crotch of her panties aside and flicked his tongue over her swollen clit. Carly sucked in so much air that he was afraid she would tip over. But she held tight to his hair and he anchored her back against the counter. “If you come right now,” he asked as he slipped his tongue over her flesh again, “does that mean I can come, too?”