“Am I too heavy?”
Libby shook her head.
He kissed each nipple and pushed upright. Studying her face for signs of pain, he slowly pulled out. “Sore?”
“No. And even if I was, I wouldn’t mind. Because you just fulfilled one of my fantasies.”
“Really? On the kitchen table?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Well, hot damn.” After Quinn tugged his sweatpants in place, he helped her sit up and noticed her eyes darted to the pile of dishes beneath the rumpled tablecloth. “Sorry I ruined supper.”
“Don’t be. Being with you, having you look at me like that…”
“Like what?”
“Like you used to. Like I was everything.”
Quinn rested his forehead to hers. “You are everything to me. You always have been. I’m sorry it got to the point where you ever doubted that.”
“Me too.”
The moment, while brief, seemed to reinforce a connection between them Quinn hadn’t realized was broken.
Libby’s stomach rumbled.
“Since I wrecked supper, and you’re clearly starving, can I take you out?”
“Good Lord, I’m a mess. By the time I get myself cleaned up, every place within thirty miles will be closed.”
“You do look kinda mussed. But it’s a well-fucked, well-kissed kinda mussed.”
“Quinn McKay!”
He loved that indignant tone, mostly because it was all for show. “Tell you what. Let’s go to the Tasty Treat Drive-in. We don’t have to get out. I can sneak a couple kisses between feeding you curly fries. Like we used to.” He nibbled on her lips. “And we might finally christen the damn truck after six years.”
Libby leaned back. “We’ve had sex in your truck.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“Yes, we have.”
“When?”
She appeared to be thinking. “Shoot. I thought after some big McKay bash you and I…” Libby looked him expectantly.
“We did. But that was my old red Dodge years ago, not this one.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Just remembering the first time we had sex in your pickup.”
He cringed. “I’m surprised you ever had sex with me again.”
“It wasn’t that horrible.”
“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t romantic. Woulda been better if we’d waited and done it in my bed rather than on a pickup bench seat in the middle of a damn pasture. You deserved better.”
“I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with you.” A wistful look crossed her face. “Sometimes I think we’ve come so far…and then I look at you and still feel like that unsure sixteen-year-old girl.”
That jarred him. “Unsure about me?”
“No, unsure on why you picked me.”
“Why?”
“The McKay boys’ reputation for preferring wild girls. I’ve never been wild.”
“I ain’t ever been like my cousins when it comes to skirt chasin’. Didn’t interest me.” He allowed a small grin. “On the other hand, I’m likin’ that you’re finally gettin’ wild with me.”
“But, you could’ve had any girl.”
“Don’t matter. I didn’t want any other girl besides you, Libby. Then or now.”
Libby’s gaze roamed his face. “What are we doing?”
Quinn knew she wasn’t referring to their supper plans. A temporary break from the issues would do them both good, so he deliberately misunderstood her. “Soon as you slip on some clothes, we’re headed to the Tasty Treat.”
Her mouth opened. Closed.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Fine.” She hopped off the table. “But I’m not sharing my chocolate malt with you.”
Chapter Seven
“Wanna another bite?”
“No. I’m stuffed. I shouldn’t have eaten all those mozzarella sticks.”
“It’s good to indulge once in a while.”
Libby stirred the dregs of her shake. “I worked damn hard to lose weight. Overindulgence will pack those pounds right back on.”
“If I haven’t said so, you look good. Real good. Damn good.”
She snorted. “You weren’t very complimentary when I asked you that same question three months ago.”
“You can apply my earlier ‘I was a prick’ comment to that response too.”
“So why did you say that?”
Quinn sighed. “I thought you were fancyin’ yourself up because you were fixin’ to dump me.”
Her hand froze on the straw. “And then I—”
“Told me you wanted a trial separation.”
“Oh Quinn, oh damn. That’s not why I…” Good Lord. With all the mixed signals they’d been sending each other it was a miracle they’d managed to stay married as long as they had.
When he didn’t add anything else, Libby shoved the empty cup on the dash and scooted closer. “I’m sorry.”
“I get that now. It’s over and done with.” Quinn slapped his thighs. “Climb on over here and sit on my lap.”
“We gonna kiss and make up?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just wanna cop a feel in the truck.”
“I guess we’ll see if you get to second base, buddy.”
“I’m hopin’ for a grand slam.” Grinning, he adjusted the seat.
Libby balanced on one knee and swung the other over his left leg, placing her hands on his shoulders as she lowered onto his lap. Then she took his hat off.
Quinn flexed those scarred, callused hands she loved so much across her upper back and slowly pulled her toward him.
Eyes locked, bodies pressed together, each inch they moved closer built anticipation higher. Heated breath mingled, lips softened, hearts raced.
A whisper apart, Quinn cocked his head and let his mouth sink into hers. He teased, tempted, nibbled, drawing out the kiss until Libby shook with need.
The moment was as erotic as it was familiar.
She allowed her hand to wander over his jaw, cheeks, temple and forehead. She raked her fingers through his hair. Gently biting at his mouth, dipping her tongue between his parted lips and slicking it across his teeth. When he opened wider, she dove in, offering him the same reckless passion he’d shown her.
A satisfied groan rumbled from Quinn’s throat.
Giddy, feeling freer than she had in ages, she touched, stroked and rubbed against her husband until they were both panting. Frantic. Aroused.
Three raps on the passenger side jolted them out of the moment and the crotch-grinding kiss. They squinted at the interloper through the steamed-up windows.
Vaudette Dickens. President of the Presbyterian Ladies Guild, neighbor to the Charles McKay family for years…and Quinn’s mother’s best friend.
Quinn swore under his breath.
Libby began to slide back, but Quinn stopped her retreat with a terse, “Stay put.”
He offered Vaudette a smile and leaned sideways to roll down the window. “Miz Dickens. I’m surprised to see you.”
“I’ll just bet you are, Quinn McKay.” Her eyes narrowed behind thick-lensed glasses. “Who’s that with you? Libby?”
Libby wanted to snap, “Who else were you expecting?” but she managed a civilized, “Yes, it’s me, Miz Dickens.”
“Goodness. I thought you two were separated.”
“We are. Were. Anyway, we’re workin’ it out,” Quinn said.
“That’s wonderful. Does your mother know?”
“Ah. No, ma’am.”
“Honey, with the way you two are carrying on, by tomorrow morning everyone will know you were fogging up your truck windows at the Tasty Treat.”
Mostly courtesy of Vaudette’s lips, Libby thought.
“And your point is?” Quinn drawled.
Vaudette’s shoulders snapped straight. “I was looking out for your best interests. I popped over here because I was certain some wild teenagers were out joy riding in your truck and I wanted to give t
hem what-for before I called the sheriff.”
“Now why on earth would you think something like that?”
She motioned to Libby still perched on Quinn’s lap. “Because I expected such behavior from hormonal teenagers, not from a longtime married couple. Goodness, aren’t you two a little old to be necking in the Tasty Treat parking lot at ten o’clock on a Saturday night?”
Quinn smirked at Libby. He smoothed a piece of hair behind her ear. “God, I hope not. A man’s entitled to kiss his wife, whenever and wherever he pleases.”
Libby bit her lip to keep from laughing at Quinn’s double meaning.
Vaudette let out a gasp that managed to be both indignant and chiding.
“But we appreciate your concern, Miz Dickens. And you’re right. I reckon we oughta take this someplace more private.” He looked at Vaudette and winked. “Tell my mother I said hello,” and he cranked up the window.
Libby lost it. She buried her face in Quinn’s neck to muffle her laughter.
“Damn busybody.”
She lifted her head. “The gossip won’t bother you?”
“Let ’em gossip. I could give a damn.” He frowned. “This ain’t gonna affect your job at the library, is it?”
“Kissing my husband in public is hardly a firing offense.” She brushed her lips over his. “But fucking my husband in public is a different story.”
“You wanna fuck me?”
“Uh-huh. You got me all hot and bothered. I’m thinking about the positions we didn’t try today because we were too busy talking.” Libby traced the inside of his ear with her tongue and gently blew across it. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”
He started the truck with her still on his lap.
“Quinn! You can’t drive like this.”
“Like what? Bein’ horny as hell with a hot woman bouncin’ on my pole as we hit every damn pothole on Main Street?” He grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
She whapped him on the chest before returning to the passenger side.
He wiggled his hat back on his head and threw the gearshift in reverse.
When they hit the outskirts of town, Libby casually asked, “So, since you didn’t get to fulfill your fantasy earlier today, do you have any others you wanna share with me?”
Quinn shot her a sideways glance. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
“I’ve got no problem sharing a fantasy, but you go first.”
“Okay.” He shifted in the seat. “I wanna fuck you while you’re wearin’ nuthin’ but them tight, black suede chaps with the long fringe runnin’ down the sides.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m a simple man. Your turn.”
Libby wondered how he’d react to her fantasy. Would he get angry? Go along with it? Think it was weird? Or stupid?
“Lib?” he prompted. “No more secrets, remember?”
She blurted, “Let’s pretend we’re strangers. You picked me up in a bar after we slow danced and shared a couple of smokin’ kisses. You’re taking me back to your place to have your wicked way with me.”
“You wanna do this now? Tonight?”
“Yeah. And when we get home—I mean there—I wanna spend the night in the horse trailer.”
“Deal. But if we were strangers and so hot to have each other, I bet you’d be sittin’ closer to me.”
Relieved at his willingness to play along, she slid next to him. She flipped the radio on low and Dwight Yoakam crooned a mournful song about love gone wrong. Quinn wrapped his arm around her shoulder and lazily rubbed her bicep.
Libby stroked the corded muscle of his thigh beneath his soft sweatpants. With every sweeping pass her fingers drifted higher, lingered longer. She’d forgotten how much she loved touching him and hearing the soft catch of his breath whenever she did something he liked.
She glanced at him. Quinn’s knuckles on the steering wheel shone white in the dashboard lights.
Talk about tense. What could she do to relax him?
A naughty idea popped up. Smiling, she hid her face in his neck. “Mmm. You smell good.”
His answer was a low groan.
Encouraged, Libby continued nuzzling his throat, letting her fingers wander until they reached the swelling between his thighs. She traced the length of his erection. The only barrier between his cock and her hand was a thin piece of fleece.
Dragging openmouthed kisses to his ear, she whispered, “Help me slide these down so I can touch you bare.”
Immediately, Quinn gripped the back of the seat with his right hand and lifted his hips.
Libby hooked her fingers in the waistband and pulled the sweatpants down to his knees. She curled her hand around the girth of his cock and squeezed.
He hissed. Loudly.
Hmmm. What other noises could she elicit from her normally silent cowboy?
Still kissing his neck, she played with his cock. Feathering touches from tip to root, circling her thumb through the pre-come to tease the sweet spot below the head.
After giving his jawline one last nip, she lowered her face into his lap and replaced her hand with her mouth.
“Sweet Jesus, woman, what are you doin’?”
Libby scooted back slightly for a better angle and cranked her head around. “If you don’t know I must be doing it wrong. You want me to stop?”
“No!”
“Thought you might say that.”
“It’s just, I never thought you’d…” He looked down at her. “You’re a wild one, eh?”
“Yep.” When Quinn kept staring at her, she reminded him, “Eyes on the road, buddy.”
“Ah, shit. Sorry.”
She worked him over. Licking the head with little whips of her tongue, then pulling him into her mouth an inch at a time until her lips were against the base. She breathed through her nose, filling her lungs with the musky scent that was uniquely Quinn. Then Libby released all that male hardness, loving the sleek feel of his tight skin moving backward across her tongue.
A muttering curse sounded above her, but she paid no attention. She kept the deep-throating rhythm, letting her saliva coat the shaft. The darkness, the heat rolling from his body, the constant wet glide of her mouth on his rock-hard cock, soaked her panties to the point she knew Quinn smelled her arousal.
She loved this. His sense of surprise. The confidence she could please him. But mostly she reveled in the knowledge that passion this intense still existed between them.
Quinn’s hand had somehow landed on her head. His hips were bumping up, a signal he was close to blowing.
Libby switched to shallow strokes. Lightly holding his dick at the root, her hand moved up to meet her mouth moving down. She applied more suction to the head.
“Goddamn, that feels so fuckin’ good.”
She hummed around his cock as her head bobbed faster.
“Oh hell yeah, baby, almost there.”
Sexual power raced through her. Libby wanted his climax. She wanted to taste it, to bathe in it, to glory in it, because goddammit, she’d earned it.
“Uh. Fuck. There it is.” Quinn groaned, his fingers increasing the grip on her hair.
His cock throbbed against her tongue with each hot spurt. She swallowed, keeping her lips wrapped tightly around the head until the very last pulse.
He sighed. His body went slack against the seat. After a bit, he said, “That was amazin’. ’Cept, I almost wrecked the truck. Twice.”
Flush with success of pleasing her man, she gave his cock one last kiss and lifted her head. She gazed out the window and noticed they were about a mile from the turnoff home.
Quinn reached for her hand. He opened his mouth. Snapped it shut. Apparently he was too stunned to talk.
Good. That was the type of silence she preferred from him.
They parked alongside the horse trailer. In the darkened truck, Quinn stayed still. Libby wanted to crawl out of her skin at the renewed tension.
“I want you like crazy.”
&
nbsp; A shiver raced up her spine at his husky tone.
“But I want you on my terms. So if you get outta this truck and follow me into that trailer, we’re gonna do things my way. Everything. No arguin’. If you wanna back out, say so now.”
Practical Libby would demand to know the parameters. But tonight, she wasn’t Libby. She was a temptress who’d given a stranger a blowjob in his pickup. Plus, she was damn curious to know what Quinn meant by his “terms”.
“I put myself in your capable hands.”
The wicked smile that’d charmed her since high school lit up Quinn’s face. He opened the glove box and snagged a folded red bandana.
“What’re you using that for?”
“A blindfold.”
***
“Turn toward the window. Might feel a slight pinch.” He knotted the material at the back of her head. “There. Can you see?”
“Not at all.”
“I’ll come around and help you out.” Quinn aimed to keep her off balance, so he didn’t kiss her, talk to her, as he piloted her into the trailer.
Once they were inside, he plastered his body to hers so completely that a single grain of wheat wouldn’t have fit between them. His kiss was a flat-out, I-love-you, I-need-you, I’m-gonna-fuck-your-brains-out mark of passion and possession.
Her whimper was his sign to move to the next stage. While unbuttoning her blouse, he spoke just below her ear. “Kick off them shoes, ditch the britches. I want you naked.”
She stripped in record time.
“You’re gettin’ good at that.” Quinn balled her clothes up and whipped them in the corner. He let his hands meander down her neck, across her collarbones, over those incredible breasts and sweetly rounded belly to her curvaceous hips. She looked damn fine. Felt damn fine too.
Gooseflesh broke out across Libby’s skin.
He stroked the area between her hipbones. A leisurely caress of his rough flesh against the suppleness of hers. Gradually, he allowed his fingertips to brush the hair covering her mound. He trailed nibbling kisses from the bottom of her earlobe to her shoulder as his fingers traced her cleft. “You taste so sweet here. And I’ve got a hankerin’ to feel nuthin’ but your velvety-soft, bare skin against my mouth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m gonna shave you. Every bit of hair gone so you’re smooth as a ripe peach.”
Strong, Silent Type_A Wild Ride story Page 7
