Not My First Rodeo 2 Boxed Set

by Donna Alward

  It was too much. He was too much and all of her panic and anger—at Drake, at herself for letting that horrible man into this room—it all rolled together and suddenly, she was shouting. “Why are you being so damned perfect? You’re not normal, you know that,” she snapped at him. “Men aren’t supposed to give up their control like this. They aren’t supposed to let a woman dominate them. They aren’t supposed to want to sleep with a woman who’s almost old enough to be their mother. You’re supposed to be picking up another pretty young thing and screwing her back in your dorm or your apartment or wherever you live. You’re not supposed to be here with me.” Her voice cracked and she felt those stupid tears rising up again. But she didn’t cry. “You are not supposed to want me.”

  His mouth fell open and he stared at her. She’d gone too far. But what else was she supposed to do? Her heart was still beating out an irregular rhythm in her chest and he was still standing there without a shirt on and everything felt wrong. And right. But mostly wrong.

  His eyes narrowed. “Oh, because I do such a good job of screwing them, is that it?”

  “No. I don’t know. It’s not my business, what you do with those girls.”

  His nostrils flared and for the first time, he looked a little dangerous. More than a little dangerous. “Because I do, you know. I screw them. And they all like it. I’m good.” It should’ve sounded cocky—okay, it did sound cocky—but she knew firsthand he could back it up.

  She winced at his harsh tone. Congratulations, she thought. She’d succeeded in making him mad.

  “But it’s not enough,” he went on. “They’re not enough. I’m not enough. It’s just sex.”

  “And this isn’t?”

  “No, goddammit. This isn’t. None of them ever told me what they wanted and you know what? I’m as bad as they are. Because I never told any of them what I needed, either. And what I need is the challenge. I need to know that I took care of you, that I did a good job.” His cheeks shot scarlet, as if this admission embarrassed him, but he didn’t look away from her. “You want to know why they storm out on me? It’s because I say horrible things to them. I tell them I want open relationships, that I want a threesome with their roommates—crap I know will make them mad. And I don’t know why—at least, I didn’t.”

  What the hell was she supposed to do with this—this confession? Because that’s what it was. He was confessing his sins to her and asking her to wipe them away. And she didn’t know if she was strong enough for that.

  But she couldn’t break his gaze. Not until he answered the question that had been on her mind since she’d seen the very first drink hit him square in the face. “Why?”

  “Because I want them to tell me I can’t. That I’m theirs and they’ll do with me what they want and I’m not allowed to fuck anyone but them.” His cheeks were even redder now and she could see that he was ashamed. “And they don’t. Not one girl, not once. Instead, they freak out and dump me and I deserve it because I’m nothing but a selfish jerk. Because I’m too much a coward to tell them what I need.”

  She gaped at him. But her mind turned back to the bar earlier, to the look on his face when she’d thrown down her challenge. His whole body had shuddered and his eyes had almost rolled back into his head. He was telling her the truth.

  And he was doing it again. He was saying things that—well, he wasn’t making her mad. But he was scaring her a little. She wasn’t sure she’d ever had a conversation as honest as this one.

  He was throwing down his own challenge. Could she handle it?

  Could she handle him?

  “Well, I’m done trying to play mind games,” he went on, staring her straight in the eye. “You told me I had to eat you out until you came or I wouldn’t come at all and it was the single most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. It was a challenge. It still is. If you sent me home right now and told me I couldn’t jerk off when I got there, I don’t think I could do it without your permission. And if that makes me pussy whipped, then so be it. I don’t care. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what I’m ‘supposed’ to be doing.” All of a sudden, his voice dropped to a whisper and shivers went up her spine. His gaze swept over her and, despite the fact that she was still fully dressed, she felt the heat pouring off him. “All I care about is what you’re going to make me do to you.”

  She must’ve gasped, because his eyes widened. “So,” he went on, his voice lower and even more dangerous. “What’s it going to be? Are you going to order me to get you off again? Or are you going to send me home?”

  When she didn’t reply immediately, he held her gaze and began to twist her scarf around his hands.

  Chapter Seven

  Her eyes were so wide that he couldn’t tell if she was horrified or turned on or something else. He had no idea if she was about to do the equivalent of throwing her drink in his face or if she’d walk up to him and slap him and if she did, if he’d like it or not. Mostly, he was terrified that she’d turn around and walk away in horror.

  Because he couldn’t blame her if she did. She was right—he wasn’t normal and he’d finally realized it. Because what he’d said was the truth and he hadn’t had a clue until Carly had sat across from him and told him he couldn’t come and he’d finally, finally heard what he wanted to hear—what he’d needed this whole time and hadn’t gotten from anyone.

  He’d told her to tell him what she wanted. Well, now he’d had his turn.

  But this wasn’t about him, not anymore—if it ever had been. Tommy didn’t know what he’d do if she said stop. He had absolutely no idea what had set her off. One minute, he’d been about to tilt her head back so that he could skim his teeth over the side of her neck. The next minute, she’d hit him in the gut and shoved him so hard that he’d lost his footing entirely. And if that were it, that would’ve been bad enough. But it hadn’t been.

  Instead, she had stood in her doorway, looking like the Devil himself was after her and she feared she wouldn’t be able to run fast enough.

  Tommy wasn’t an idiot—or so he liked to think. But even he could tell when a woman was scared. And Carly had been terrified.

  It was all coming into focus now, like the world’s slowest-developing Polaroid picture. He was beginning to get a sense that her ex-husband had not been a good man. It was already obvious that she hadn’t had a decent lover in a long time, if ever. Selfish men made selfish lovers. He tried so hard not to be one of those, but he wasn’t sure if he made it most of the time.

  But the whole thing about her neck and how he could not touch it? This was supposed to be no strings. It was supposed to be fun.

  It was rapidly becoming something else altogether.

  He should walk. He should grab his things and go. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her with that haunted look in her eyes.

  He couldn’t leave her without knowing he’d taken the haunted look away.

  He wound the scarf around his wrists until his hands were loosely bound in front of him. It was not the same as being tied up. It would take him all of six seconds to unwrap himself, but he didn’t. He held his wrists in front of him as if he’d been arrested and waited for her to make the next move.

  He hoped like hell she wouldn’t tell him to leave. But as her gaze darted between his face and his wrists, he wasn’t sure.

  Then something changed. Her hands dropped from the doorframe and her back straightened. She’d made up her mind and thank God for that. He wasn’t sure how much more he could bear. “You won’t touch me?”

  “Not until you tell me to.” Her expression softened with what he hoped was relief. “But before we go any further, is there anything else that’s a hard no?”

  He wished he hadn’t asked, but given the unpleasant reception last time, he felt like he absolutely had to. He didn’t want to be punched in the gut again. Not that it hurt, but it took him by surprise—and not in a sexy way.

  Her face closed down a little bit more, and he could tell that whatever unpleasant memory
she was dealing with had left its mark. “I don’t…” She swallowed again. Tommy waited until she got herself together. “I don’t want to be bent over anything.”

  Well, hell. There went at least half of his fantasies. But he pushed back against the disappointment. After all, that still left the other half of his fantasies. “Done.” He tried not to think about the why. It couldn’t be good.

  “Go sit on the bed.” Then, with a smile that suggested more nervousness than seduction, she added, “please.”

  He did as he was told. His blood was beginning to hum in his veins as she stepped back into the room and looked him over. She spread her legs shoulder-width apart and put her hands on her hips, and just like that, the power in the room shifted. He could feel it flowing back to her, as if she was summoning it to her with a silent spell. He was completely enthralled.

  “Do I get to see your panties again?” he asked, to keep the focus where it belonged—on her, on how sexy she was.

  She tried so hard not to smile at him and failed. “Did you like them?”

  “Oh my God—do you have any idea how much I want to peel them off of you?” Because seriously?

  Yeah, that was one of his fantasies, too. The only way it could be better was if she had on a corset.

  She did a little move that was almost a bow and picked up the hem of her dress. Then—God help them—she started to lift it up.

  He couldn’t stop the little moan that broke free from him as inch by silken inch of her legs was revealed. “God, Carly—do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  He had just gotten a glimpse of where the garter met the top of her stocking when she dropped the hem back in place. It felt like a slap in the face, but then she shifted her hips and his eyes were drawn to her feet, still in her heels. “You can say stop.”

  “So can you,” he reminded her.

  There was a brief pause while they both waited, but neither said the word.

  “Lie on your back,” she told him, sounding more confident by the minute.

  “Legs on or off the bed?”

  She thought about it. “Swing your legs on the bed and scoot back so your head is on the pillows.”

  Doing that without using his hands was harder than he anticipated, but he got himself into the position she requested. His whole body was humming with excitement now, because the tension was back between them, and this time a bed was involved.

  He knew what he wanted. He wanted her to straddle him, undo his buckle, and let his dick free. He had a fresh pack of condoms in his suit jacket pocket and he wanted her to roll one on and slide him up between her creamy thighs. He wanted the dress off her when this happened, but he wanted the stockings to stay on.

  But the way she’d recovered? The way she was checking him out? This was about what she wanted. And if she wanted him tied to the bed where he couldn’t accidentally touch her the wrong way, then that’s what he wanted.

  When he was settled, he looked back to her for her approval. And he saw that she had something in her hand. Moving slowly, she walked over to him—all hip swinging and legs cutting through the air. He wished to God the room was bigger, just so he could watch her walk more. She got to the head of the bed and said, “Put your hands over your head.”

  His dick throbbed as he did as he was told.

  There was another brief pause before Carly grabbed the scarf he’d wound around his wrists and slipped another scarf between his arms. She knotted that scarf, which tightened the one he’d wrapped around his wrists. He flexed his arms—he could still get out of it, but she’d taken control.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. Already, his hips were trying to buck to relieve some of the pressure on his dick. He forced himself to lay still and breathe through it.

  Then she took the other end of the scarf and looped it back around her headboard before tying it off. “There,” she said in a soft voice.

  He flexed again, putting on a little show to demonstrate that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Now what are you going to do to me?”

  She bit her lower lip, and he wished he could bite it for her. “This, I think.”

  She walked to the end of the bed and, putting one hand on the wall for balance, she stepped up onto the mattress, heels and all. Tommy groaned again because the view from this angle was fan-fucking-tastic. She loomed over him, staring down at him over the curve of her breasts. Her legs were a million miles long and he wanted to lick every square inch of them.

  With her hand still trailing along the wall for balance, she walked up the bed. Each step gave him a glimpse of where her panties covered her sex and for a brief moment, he was tempted to twist out of his scarf ties so that he could touch her.

  But he’d promised. So he didn’t. He lay there, trying not to shake like a virgin at his first rodeo as she planted a leg on each side of his chest. “Can you see them now?”

  He was completely at her mercy and they both knew it. He had never given up this much control. But he’d given it all to her willingly and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. “Almost. I want to touch you so bad but…” He cracked a smile at her and looked back up at his wrists.

  She moved, which drew his attention back to her. She’d lifted up a foot and was tracing along the edge of his ribs.

  She wasn’t stepping on him. She wasn’t kicking him. She was only stroking him—and it left him with a hell of a view. God, he could almost see everything—black lace and creamy flesh and silky stockings. He moaned again.

  She put her foot down on the bed and took another step forward, so that she was standing almost directly over his face. “How about now?”

  He couldn’t help himself. He sat up and grabbed the hem of her skirt in his teeth so that he could jerk it aside. “I want this off of you,” he said, although they both knew he was in no position to negotiate.

  She leaned down and pushed his head back into the pillows. “Ah, ah, ah,” she said in a scolding voice, which made Tommy squirm. Then, just when he was sure he wouldn’t be able to take this teasing anymore, she began the lower herself.

  Her knees came to rest on either side of his head and she grabbed the headboard on either side of his hands. Slowly, she descended upon him. It was only when her panties-covered clit was hovering a few inches above his mouth that she stopped and pulled the dress off over her head.

  Tommy’s brain short-circuited—he did not know where to look. Her pussy was right there, the smell of her sex stronger now that the dress wasn’t blocking it. But this was also the first chance he had to see her in a bra. And Jesus, her breasts were fabulous. Girls his age were too fond of dieting, trying to have thigh gaps or whatever. It took the meat off their bones and their breasts paid the price.

  But not Carly’s. She was a woman and her breasts were lush and full and barely contained in a black lace bra that matched her panties perfectly. “Oh God, Carly,” he whispered. “Pull your panties to one side so that I can taste you.”

  For once, she took his directive and slid her finger under the lace until she hooked it and pulled it aside. “Is this what you want? You want to lick my clit?”

  Her sex was red and swollen, slick with moisture. He needed to bury his face in her, suck her clit between his teeth, and drive his tongue into her body. “Please,” he said, and he wanted her so badly, he didn’t even mind that he was begging. “Take what you want from me.”

  She sucked in air and Tommy knew he’d said the right thing. Then she leaned forward and closed the distance between her body and his mouth and he was able to get his teeth on her again. This time, he didn’t go slow and careful. This time, he was going to make her scream or die trying. He scraped his tongue over her sensitive flesh and, when she shivered into him, he did it again—harder. Faster.

  He’d wanted a challenge? Well, he had one, all right. He had to make her come but he couldn’t use his hands. He couldn’t snap that garter belt and he couldn’t bury his fingers in her pussy. And his dick was still out of the quest
ion.

  All he had was his mouth and his teeth and his tongue and he had to use them as best he could.

  He took the folds of her skin into his mouth and sucked hard, reveling in the way her back arched and she gasped. Her hips started to grind against him and he moaned into her skin as her weight bore down on him. Her cream filled his mouth and then she shifted position. She dug her fingers into his hair and began to grind his face against her sex.

  He was nothing but an instrument of her pleasure and by God, it wasn’t just sex. She knew what she needed and she was taking it from him and he was giving it to her. Her thighs clenched down and she rode him hard as she came. “Oh—oh, Tommy!” she cried out, her back arching as she froze.

  His dick was in agony and his balls were hard rocks but he couldn’t let go—not until she said he could. He swept his tongue over her sex and felt her body shake as her climax crested and began to ebb.

  Then she let go of his head, and he fell back onto the pillows, gasping for air. Everything about him was her—her taste, her smell, the feel of her body on his, her cries of pleasure in his ears. All that mattered was Carly.

  Then she leaned back and groped him through his jeans. His dick strained against her touch and then she squeezed. “You’ve been such a good boy,” she breathed out. She squeezed him again and his hips bucked in response. “I think I’m going to let you come after all.”

  That was all it took. Permission. Her fingers dug into him through the denim and he shot his load into his pants. He thrashed his head against the pillows as the relief crashed through him and, spent, he collapsed back on the bed, panting. His lungs were on fire and Carly’s taste was still on his tongue and she was grinning down at him as if they shared a secret now.

  She knew what she could do to him. And what was more, she knew what she could make him do to her.

  She scooted back, the warmth of her sex like a brand on his chest. Then she leaned down, her face only inches from his. “You’re not allowed to fuck anyone else.”