Not My First Rodeo 2 Boxed Set

by Donna Alward

  “What if I say no?” She was panting as she looked down at him and he couldn’t help but grin up at her.

  “Then I’ll have to make you come twice,” he promised as he licked her again, harder this time. He pressed his tongue against her swollen flesh and tasted the cream of her. God, she was already so wet for him.

  He licked and sucked her clit, taking note when she tensed up and also when she went quiet. Quiet was bad. Quiet meant he wasn’t doing his job here and if he didn’t do his job, he would possibly die of blue balls. He ran his hands up and down the back of her thighs again, warming the stockings underneath his hands. Then, he hit the garter tabs in the back. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he snapped one and was rewarded when her whole body tensed up around him. “Did you like that?”

  “I’m…not sure.”

  So he did it again. And this time, when he snapped that garter against her bare flesh, he slid the fingers on his other hand into her body. She was wet and tight and hot and it took every last ounce of self-control not to shoot his load in his pants. “Oh God,” she said in high, tight voice that matched her high, tight body. “Yes, yes.”

  He didn’t need any other encouragement. It took a little coordination between his lips and tongue on her clit, his fingers in her vagina, and his hand on her ass, alternatively snapping the garter against her skin and squeezing tight. But she started panting heavily, dragging in deep breaths of air, and letting them out as though she was squeezing air out of a balloon. He had her right where he wanted her.

  She dug her fingers into his scalp as her thighs clenched. He looked up at her in time to see her mouth form a perfect “O” as the orgasm took her. Her inner muscles clenched around his fingers and her clit twitched against his tongue. He stayed as still as he could, making sure that he held her up.

  Which was a good thing, because when she went limp, she went completely limp. Her knees gave and she sagged down into him. He folded her into his arms and caught her on her way down, making sure she didn’t hit her head on the counter.

  “Oh my God,” she murmured feebly as she tucked her head under his chin. “I mean—oh my God.”

  And he hadn’t even kissed her yet. His dick was trying to kill him and his ankles were screaming in agony at the awkward angle and the floor was hard against his knees, but he couldn’t remember feeling happier than he did right now. Making her come was—well, it was everything.

  She leaned her head back and looked at him, a sleepy, happy smile on her face. “Okay,” she said, her voice shaky, “it’s not cocky if you can back it up.”

  Tommy laughed and hugged her to his chest.

  Then she had a stern look on her face. “Did you come?”

  “No, Ma’am,” he said.

  She shifted against him and copped a feel. As her hands spanned the width of his aching dick, her eyes went wide again. That sensuous smile took hold of her sensuous mouth again and she squeezed him. “Should I let you come?”

  Chapter Six

  Everything about Carly felt shimmery. She wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but it apparently was.

  And that feeling only got stronger when Tommy groaned. She pulled her hand away from his dick and watched him carefully. She had him worked up—maybe even dangerously so. If she’d ever tried to play coy like this with her husband on the rare occasions she’d tried to seduce him, he’d have made her pay for it.

  Logically, she should’ve learned by now not to push any man. She should be thankful for her orgasm and appreciative that her luck had held as long as it had.

  But she was tired of playing it safe. She was tired of holding herself back out of fear, tired of being cautious. She was tired of putting herself second, and there was something about Tommy that made her feel like it was safe to put herself first.

  If he rolled her onto her back and started to fuck her, she didn’t think she’d want to stop him. Her body was loose and light and warm—okay, maybe they could get off the kitchen floor—and getting laid was one of her objectives tonight, wasn’t it?

  But that’s not what she wanted. Not quite yet.

  “Well?”

  Tommy made a noise that was closer to a whimper than a growl. “Then…then I’ll have to do a better job of getting you off a second time, won’t I?” She heard his throat click when he swallowed. “I can do better. But maybe less clothing could be involved the second time?”

  No, she’d never played this game. But she was starting to like it. She tilted her head from side to side, as if she was seriously weighing the merits of this statement. “Can you, now?”

  She reached down and stroked her hand over the thick bulge in his pants. Once, twice—and she pulled her hand away again. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice tight with tension. “I will do better.”

  She stared at him. Granted, she hadn’t had a lot of dating experience in the last ten years, but she certainly didn’t remember men being this willing to listen. And she was positive she didn’t remember men being quite so comfortable setting aside their delicate egos for her satisfaction.

  But then, if she knew anything about Tommy, it was that he wasn’t like most men. She felt a little like she had won the lottery or something just as cliché. He was giving this gift to her with apparently very few strings attached.

  “Let’s try the bedroom this time,” she murmured, running her fingernails down the side of his neck. She wasn’t scratching him outright, but she didn’t miss the way his pulse fluttered in his neck.

  Tommy lifted her to her feet, which was impressive enough. She wasn’t exactly a lightweight anymore. Then he stood and paused for a moment while he rotated his ankles. She winced, wondering how bad it had been to kneel in those boots.

  Then, suddenly, she was flying through the air. He literally swept her off her feet as if she didn’t weigh a thing.

  “Which way?” he asked as he cradled her to his chest, his voice back down into the husky range. She liked it there too, but she also liked it when his voice was high and weak with neediness.

  “To the right and down the hall,” she said, giving him the directions to bedroom. Not that he needed it—this was a one-bedroom house. No one had ever picked her up like this. Not even Drake—and he’d been strong enough. More than strong enough. But he’d never been the kind of man who would do something construed as thoughtful that didn’t directly benefit him. Keeping her happy had never even made the list.

  The nice thing about living in a small house was that it hadn’t taken her very long today to clean up. She was neat anyway, but she’d changed the sheets, made sure the covers were neatly tucked in and done laundry, just in case. The double bed barely fit into the small bedroom, but she’d never needed anything bigger before.

  “Lights?” Tommy asked, pausing in the middle of the room.

  “No,” she said. The overhead light was also ceiling fan and it didn’t throw off the most flattering shadows. But she’d planned for this. If it’d gotten this far.

  Which it had.

  “Set me down the bed. There are some candles on the dresser.”

  He did as she asked and lit the three pillar candles without another word. Carly scooted back to the bed and crossed her legs in what she hoped was a seductive pose. She was out of practice and she couldn’t compete with hot young girls he usually spent his weekends with.

  As the last candle flared, she wondered if she wasn’t making a huge mistake. She should quit while she was ahead. She could get him off in a matter of minutes, send him packing, and…and…

  And what? Spend the rest of her night wondering exactly how far this game could have gone? Comparing one orgasm in the last ten years with the joyless three years of formal marriage?

  No. She was tired of her memories of Drake and of what he’d done to her. She may have worked up the nerve to leave him, but he’d stayed with her anyway, tainting sex and love until she felt like she couldn’t have either.

  Tonight was not love. But it was sex and it was
sex on her terms.

  She was not done yet.

  Tommy turned to look at her. They both still had on their winter coats—his a thick sheepskin coat that made him look even more like a rancher than ever before, her in her long, boiled wool coat. It was even more amazing to her that Tommy had unleashed that orgasm upon her and neither of them had removed a single piece of clothing.

  He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, looking at her. Waiting for her.

  “Take off your clothes,” she said and couldn’t help but notice her command didn’t come out as confidently she wanted it to.

  And he could tell, too. He gave her a long look that was almost as reassuring as a hug, oddly. “All of them?”

  “I’ll…let you know when to stop.”

  “Just say the word.” She knew he was talking about undressing, but she couldn’t help but think that he meant if she wanted to stop the whole thing.

  No. She was not going to be held hostage any longer. One night, no strings, only satisfaction.

  He began with his coat, sliding it off his shoulders. He went slowly, which was an unexpected surprise. She half expected him to throw his clothes off as fast as he could—but he didn’t. It wasn’t a proper striptease or anything. There were no slick dance moves, no tear-away clothing. Just a young man in his prime slowly getting naked before her.

  The jacket followed the coat, then he began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Somehow, the more layers he took off, the bigger he physically looked—which was quite a trick. He was an optical illusion, almost—and getting closer to the flesh meant that Carly could see exactly what was him, and what it been padding.

  There had been very little padding.

  After the shirt gave, he kicked out of his boots. Then he paused for a moment, waiting for her reaction. He was still in a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and his belt. And his socks, of course. “Take off the socks,” she said. Socks were not sexy.

  Hopping on one foot, he did as she said. “The shirt?”

  “Yes—but leave the jeans and the belt for now.” Which didn’t make any sense. She was curious to see what he looked like naked. As he stripped off his T-shirt, she hesitated.

  She was in charge here, like he said. And if she wanted to draw this out, she could.

  Besides, that gave her plenty of opportunity to stare at his chest when he stood straight again. Oh God—the man was built. His chest was as broad and muscled as she had dreamed and his waist came to a narrow V. There, above his belt, she could see the rope of muscles that cut down underneath his jeans. He was cut from stone but he hadn’t been hard against her. When her knees had given, he’d caught her gently and held her tight.

  “What about you?” he asked, and God bless him, he didn’t seem the least bit perturbed about standing there half-dressed. The candlelight flickered over his muscles, and glinted off the smattering of dark brown chest hair.

  Unconsciously, she tensed. “What about me?”

  “Would you like me to undress you, too?”

  Unbidden, a memory—so many memories—came back to her. Of Drake grabbing her by the back of her neck and shoving her into a wall. Of him holding her there while he ripped her clothes off and told her what a slut and stupid bitch she was. Then he would haul her by her neck over to the table or his desk or the sofa, bend her over it, and beat her butt until she screamed. He liked it when she screamed. If she screamed too soon, he’d think she was pretending so he’d hit her harder and harder. And when she was sure she could never take it another second of the pain and the humiliation, he’d fumble out of his pants—because he was always completely dressed for this—and ram into her.

  She couldn’t help the screaming. But she’d trained herself not to cry.

  And right now, with this man who had given her a beautiful orgasm, she wanted to be naked with him. But…

  But she couldn’t. She couldn’t let those feelings of helplessness and embarrassment and pain have any place in what they were doing right now. It was not the same.

  She was not the same.

  She stood, wobbling briefly until she got the heel of her one shoe back on. “You can take my coat off. But I’m going stay dressed for now.”

  He stepped closer to peel her coat off her shoulders. “You’re killing me, you know.”

  She tensed again. If only she knew what she was doing. “Oh? What are you going to do about it?”

  One of his eyebrows notched up. She’d asked the question honestly, but he took it as a challenge. He swept his tongue over his lips. “You tasted so sweet the first time—let me bury my face against your clit again, Carly.”

  She realized she was having trouble breathing. She wished she were better at this, more confident, more knowledgeable. She wished for the same fearlessness she’d had before it’d been beaten out of her. “Is that what you want?”

  The question seemed to take him by surprise. “Seriously?”

  “Well…yeah. I mean, I don’t want make you do something you don’t want…” Her voice trailed off again.

  He looked at her like he had the other night—like she was a puzzle and he was another piece closer to figuring her out. He stepped into her, heat radiating off his bare chest. “Carly,” he said, cupping her face and lifting her so that she had no choice but to look him in the eye. “I know how to say stop, too. You’re so much more than I thought you would be—so let me show you how much more I can be for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling tears pricked her eyes—dammit. She should not be getting sentimental. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

  He didn’t look like he was going to buy that lie but she didn’t try to explain it away. It wasn’t an outright lie—it had been a long time. But that wasn’t all.

  “So you’re due,” he said, one corner of his mouth perking up into a sly smile. “Don’t apologize for it. You know what you want—and I want to give it to you. All you have to do is tell me, and I’ll take care of everything else.”

  “Why? Why would you do that for me?”

  Now he stared at her in open confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She didn’t want to talk anymore. She wanted to go back to that special place she’d been in the kitchen, with his mouth against her, his fingers inside of her, even the snapping of her garter belts against her skin—that it been good. It hadn’t been pain, just sensation. She had been able to feel, for a little while anyway.

  Tommy wasn’t letting her go. He wasn’t stroking her arms, he wasn’t lifting her dress up, and he was most especially not pushing her back onto the bed. He was standing there, in complete control of the situation. “Because no one else ever has.”

  He let out a long, slow breath and folded her into a hug. “That’s a damn shame, Carly.” Then he made everything better and worse at the same time. He lifted her face and kissed her.

  It was a good kiss, too. His lips were warm and soft against hers, and when he tilted his head and slid his tongue over her lips, her mouth opened for him automatically. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs while he kissed her, then buried his hands in her hair. He kissed her hard, taking everything she offered him.

  She was happy to give it to him, too. They’d gotten too close to truths that she didn’t want to discuss. Her dark past was that—the past. It had no place in this room tonight.

  At least it didn’t, until he put his hand on the back of her neck. Everything happened so fast after that by the time she pulled to a stop, she was standing in the doorway of her bedroom and Tommy was half-sprawled on the bed. Had she pushed him?

  She held onto the doorframe, her chest heaving with panic. Tommy shook back to himself and rolled onto his side to look at her. She braced for the yelling, but it didn’t come. “Are you okay?”

  “Don’t—don’t touch my neck.” Her heart was going to beat itself right out of her chest and the urge to flee was stronger than she ever thought it would be. She just wanted to get away.

  Tommy sat up on her bed, his
elbows on his knees. “O…kay,” he said. Clearly, he didn’t understand.

  And she didn’t want to explain it. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  Tommy blew hard and dropped his head into his hands. She could see him struggling for control and she felt horrible about it. They’d made a deal of sorts. He ate her out until she came, she would let him come. And she wasn’t holding up her end of the deal.

  She wanted him to go. But she didn’t, either. Logically, she knew that he was absolutely nothing like Drake. For that matter, Tommy wasn’t like any other man she’d ever known. He’d gone out of his way to make her feel safe and comfortable—to put her first.

  But that goddamned fight or flight response was hard to beat. And right now, she didn’t know which one was winning.

  When he looked up at her, she got the feeling that he’d found another piece of her puzzle and was trying to make it fit. “What if I don’t touch you at all?”

  “What?”

  “I said, what if I don’t touch you at all? What if…” He took another deep breath, which did impressive things to his chest. He was speaking slowly and calmly, as if she were wounded animal—which she was. But she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t soothing. He looked around and stood, walking quickly to her dresser. He picked up a scarf. “What if I let you tie me up? Then I won’t touch you.”

  “But how…”

  “Look, Carly—obviously, there’s something else going on. But I’m not the kind of guy who would ever do anything to hurt a woman. So if you want to tie my hands and do something to me, something to make yourself feel…” he looked around, as if he could find the right word in her bedroom. “Stronger,” he finished, “then that’s okay with me.”