by Alison Kent
Before he could question anything else, the door opened. His head came up from where he’d been staring at the porch boards, and now the only question was why he’d stood there so long without knocking.
She wore her usual jeans, but her top was some sleeveless, thigh-length gauzy number, and her hair was a wild mass of loose curls around her shoulders. He breathed her in and his stomach growled, and seeing her bare feet on her hardwood floor, her toenails painted the same pink as her bedroom, completely did him in.
She stood with one arm raised as she held on to the door. “Do you realize you’re on my front porch, in plain view of anyone who might pass by?”
“I do,” he said, leaving it at that rather than admitting he’d considered using her back door.
“You’re not even hiding behind your hat.”
He pulled it off completely to show he had it in him.
“I think we’re making progress here, though we could make it a lot faster if you’d come inside.” She pulled her dark fall of hair back from her face, her lashes drifting down then up again in a slow, lazy sweep.
He would’ve gone inside anyway, but his cock insisted he do it now, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. The sway of her unbound tits completely sucked away what was left of his brain. One step over the threshold, he wrapped an arm around her waist, brought her to his body, and covered her mouth with his.
He’d been waiting to kiss her properly since the other evening when he’d told her good-bye at her truck. He did so now, kicking the door closed and sliding his tongue into her mouth as he cupped her ass and squeezed. She moaned, rubbed against him like a cat, her nipples over his chest, her pussy against his thigh.
Two layers of denim, and he felt her dampness, her heat, and he dug his fingers deeper between the cheeks of her backside, then forced her across the room and down onto the couch. He covered her, held her hands above her head and humped her, grinding and sliding until he couldn’t breathe and he feared his cock would snap off at the root.
Planting his palms on the cushion on either side of her head, he raised up, stared down. “If you’re trying to kill me, be warned. My assets aren’t worth shit.”
Giggling, Arwen rolled out from beneath him, and he pushed to sit, collapsing back to relieve the pressure on his cock. But in the next instant, she was straddling his lap, leaning forward, her mouth on his neck beneath his ear.
She kissed and she licked and she bit him, and her hands were everywhere, her fingers busy little teasing things driving him mad. It took all he had in him to take her by the waist and set her away.
They’d made an agreement. He had to stick to it or she would win and he would lose what manhood he had left—if any. “Here’s how this works. Date, then sex.”
She pouted, dragging a middle finger up and down his throat, her nipples tight and tempting beneath the fabric of her shirt. “That makes it sound like the sex is an afterthought. A maybe. A possible outcome to the night.”
“No, it’s just to make sure the date happens because knowing you, you’ve been going crazy thinking about having me and forgot to get my popcorn.”
“That’s not true,” she said, flouncing down to the cushion beside him. “It’s microwaved, but it’s hot and fresh. And buttered.”
“Good to hear,” he said, sniffing the air. Yep. Popcorn. “So what are we watching?”
“A western.”
“My favorite. Clint Eastwood? John Wayne? Gary Cooper?”
“Nope. This one’s the story of a six-shooting spaceman, a cosmic hooker, a pilot savant, a girl in a box, and a man named Jayne.”
He arched a brow. Was she kidding? “I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“Trust me. You’ll love it,” she said, jumping up and heading for the kitchen and, he hoped, his popcorn.
“Maybe the hooker part,” he called after her.
She was back in a flash and giving him a look. “Are you always such a man?”
“I thought that’s why I was here. Because I walk tall and carry a big dick.”
This time she rolled her eyes. “Tell me you didn’t just say that.”
“You’ve seen it,” he said, draping his arm along the back of the couch. “You know the truth.”
“What I know is that you need to shut up and watch your movie.” She dropped down beside him, set the popcorn between his legs. “Date night, remember?”
He remembered, and as the movie played his mind drifted, wandering back to high school as if that’s where he’d find answers to whatever the hell was wrong with him. Because something had to be wrong. He’d said no to a woman who’d climbed into his lap and asked him with her body to fuck her. A gorgeous woman. A woman who had managed to kill his desire for any other.
In the future, sure, he’d get back to his randy Dalton Gang ways, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he didn’t see it. He wanted Arwen. And it kinda made him feel all settled and shit to be thinking of sticking with her, especially when he’d intended to pick up where he’d left off sixteen years ago, sampling all the female wares Crow Hill had to offer.
He lowered his gaze from the TV screen to where she sat curled against him, her knees drawn up to rest on his thigh, her feet bare, her head in the crook of his shoulder. He toyed with a strand of her hair, watched a smile play over her face, followed the movement of her hand as she absently rubbed along his inseam before reaching into the bag of popcorn. His gut tightened, and not even from the physical contact.
He was comfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been, the last time he’d felt like he belonged. Maybe as a kid growing up in the mansion on the hill, but that hadn’t lasted long. As soon as he’d figured out he was expected to go to law school, he’d begun to feel like a stranger in his own house, hell, in his own skin.
Even on the ranch he felt like he was just passing through. He hated that. For himself. For Boone and Casper. He wanted to call the place home. It had been more of one than his own during high school, but a lot of that had been the people who’d lived there making it so.
All these years and miles later, the Daltons’ influence remained, along with Tess’s aprons and Dave’s spittoons, and though it felt like a violation to be boxing up their things, he appreciated Darcy taking on the chore. And, yeah, he could make a home there with Casper and Boone. There was a reason they’d stayed fast friends and become such in the first place.
But something was missing. And he was pretty sure that something was sitting next to him on a sofa long enough and wide enough for what he had in mind without having to waste time getting to her bed. He pictured her moving the popcorn, turning her gaze to his, her eyes soft like a foal’s, her lips damp as they parted.
Background music would play as he held her gently and lowered himself over her, kissing her, smoothing her hair from her face. They’d breathe together, he’d slide a hand beneath her shirt, cup her breast, tease her, wait until she was ready before lifting the fabric, licking at her nipple, sucking her until she begged…
Except as soon as the movie was over, she sat forward, arched her back, and stretched her arms overhead. Then she shifted on one hip to face him and bumped his knee. “You got your date. Now I want my sex.”
And just like that the sensation of all being right with his world got doused with a bucket of cold water. He looked at her, watched her pulse beat in the hollow of her throat, watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed. Watched her irises disappear as her pupils dilated.
Aw, hell. Who was he kidding? Watched the rest of his life fall into place.
And that had his heart racing because getting there from here was not going to come easy. Not when Arwen had set the terms of their involvement and he’d been stupid enough to agree. Fine. She wanted sex? He’d give her sex. He’d also make sure she knew there was more to sex than his cock and her pussy and her finger in his ass.
He leaned forward, set the popcorn bag on the coffee table, and reached for the snaps o
f his shirt. “How do you want it?” He popped the buttons, shrugged out of the shirt, moved to his belt buckle. “Where do you want it?” He freed his fly’s top button then bent to tug off his boots. “And why aren’t you getting undressed?”
“Could you possibly make sex sound any less sexy?” she asked, scooting away from him to the end of the couch.
Good, he mused as she pulled her knees to her chest and tugged her shirt down over them. They were getting somewhere. “You said you wanted sex. I just want to make sure I’m giving you what you want.”
“You’re giving me a porn movie. From a male point of view.”
“So the sex is part of the date? Like peach cobbler after baby back ribs?”
“Yes. Why would you think any differently?”
“Let’s see. What exactly was it you said? That I got my date, and you wanted your sex? Not that you wanted us to have sex, or hell, that you might want me?”
“Well, of course I want you. You’re here, aren’t you?” And then she cocked her head to the side, considering him, the smile sliding over her face crafty and sly. “Did I hurt your feelings? Did you want me to seduce you?”
“Does it matter what I want?” And what the hell? He sounded like some pansy-assed teen. A teen girl at that. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
She laughed then, tossed back her head and laughed. “I did, didn’t I? I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to. I just—”
“You just want sex. I got it.” He stood, shucked off his jeans, left his briefs in place because he wasn’t up to exposing more of himself.
“Oh, Dax. I am sorry. We agreed you’d get your date and I’d get my sex, and I never thought you might want more. Especially when you told me the other evening that you didn’t. You remember telling me that, don’t you?”
“I remember. And I don’t want more,” he said, dropping back to the couch and doubting there’d be any sex had here tonight.
She rolled up to her hands and knees, crawled toward him. “Good, because I can’t have you here if you do.”
Huh. That was interesting, and something new. But even when she worked her way into his lap and started working on him, he stared at the television and stayed quiet, ignoring her weight, her sweet scent. Ignoring the twitch in his balls, the rise of his cock.
His not wanting more and her not wanting more should’ve made for a perfect connection. The only thing he could think that might be hosing him up was Arwen running the show. And really, he’d have to be a bigger dick now than he’d been in high school to let that get in the way of the sex she delivered, as abundant and welcome as rain.
She pushed the heels of her palms together beneath his ribs and leaned in, her tits flat to his chest, the metal loops in the centers like tiny brands, burning him. Her mouth at his jaw trailed kisses as she made her way to his ear.
She breathed there, softly, in and out, then said, “You know that I want you here, don’t you? I really, really do.”
He grunted. He really, really didn’t want to be anyplace else, and he moved his hands to her hips, then wriggled his fingers beneath her shirt to her skin, skating his palms up her sides until the weight of her breasts rested on his thumbs. Then he turned his head into hers and kissed her, his fingers gouging the flesh covering her ribs.
She slid her tongue against his, her hands down his belly and beneath the elastic straining to hold his briefs flat. Then she backed her way off his lap to the floor, kneeling between his thighs and urging him to lift his hips. He did, and she got rid of his shorts, leaving him with his socks and a good ten inches of greedy anticipation.
Licking her lips, she took him in her hand, then took him in her mouth, then took him to the back of her throat. He curled his fingers into the fabric of the couch and clenched every muscle he had, his neck straining as he dropped his head against the cushion and closed his eyes.
Fuck. She was good. So goddamn good. She knew when to use her tongue, how to use her teeth, where to use her fingers and her way-too-inquisitive thumb.
His balls were aching when she ringed them and tugged them down, and his cock jumped, the tip brushing the top of her mouth. She pulled her lips along his shaft, holding the head by its thick ridge, lapping at the bead of fluid warning her. Warning him that if he stayed where he was, she wouldn’t be getting the sex she wanted for at least a little while.
He looked down, met her wicked gaze, started to say To hell with it but knew he wasn’t that guy. So he threaded his fingers into her hair, pulled his cock from her mouth, and told her, “My turn,” as he urged her to her feet. Scooting to the edge of the cushion, he tapped the back of her knees to bring her closer, and went to work on her jeans.
The button slipped free easily, and the zipper didn’t give him a bit of trouble, and he opened the denim to find her sweet skin and a strip of pink lace above the cotton that covered the part of her he’d come to see. He leaned forward, pulled at the elastic with his teeth, let it snap back against her skin, and inhaled.
Holding her shirt to her waist, she squirmed, shivered, and he tugged her jeans down her thighs, leaving her panties in place because he loved how she looked, smooth and soft and not the least bit naughty when she was the naughtiest girl he’d ever known.
He loved that she was. Loved it. He ran the backs of his fingers over her mound, feeling the pillows of her lips and her hardened clit and the slit that his nose told him was ready for his meat. What the hell made him think he needed a date when he had this?
Exhaustion had to be turning him mad. His cock, her cunt, and his world was complete. And if he kept telling himself that, if he kept the distance between them she said she wanted, he might just convince himself it was true.
He slipped his index fingers beneath the leg of her panties and tested his theory, finding the seam of her bare pussy slick with her lube. Smiling, he leaned forward and opened his mouth, breathing hot air against her. She moaned, whipped off her shirt, and speared her fingers into his hair. Then she spread her legs.
Oh, yeah. She smelled good. Hot and sea-salty and horny, just the way he liked her. His cock jumped, brushing her inner knee and causing them both to pull in a sharp breath. He’d had enough with waiting.
He stood up, slowly sliding his body along hers, the head of his cock leaving a trail of pre-cum from her panties over her belly where he nestled himself against her. Then he grabbed her to him, pivoted, and tumbled them both to the couch. He landed on his back, then rolled over, putting her beneath him.
EYES CLOSED, AT Dax’s urging Arwen lifted her hips. He pulled down her panties and tossed them to the floor. She was naked but he still wore his socks, and that had her grinning. It was silly and she didn’t know why, really, except that it made him real and human, and she needed that right now.
Needed to know she wasn’t the only one capable of falling.
Neck arched, she reached behind her, holding on to the arm of the couch as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, bent, and settled his lips between her belly button and the strip of her pubic hair. He hummed against her, kissed, bit, licked, worked his way lower and finally, finally sucked her clit into his mouth.
Lord, his tongue. He used the tip like a finger, circling the bud of nerves. He used it like a cock, sliding along the sides and beneath, pushing up until she whimpered and squirmed. He moved down, licking his way through her folds, teasing the rim of her entrance, turning his face to kiss the crevice between her pussy and her thigh.
That wasn’t where she wanted him, and she used her knee to urge his head back.
He laughed against her, his breath tickling. “Is this the sex you were talking about?”
“It’s a start.” Already, she wanted to come. But even more than that, she wanted the build-up, the pleasure that came frighteningly close to pain. “You’re just drifting a bit off course.”
“Not drifting. Searching,” he said, using that tongue to draw a line along the seam of her pussy’s lips, flicking at her clit, piercing her befo
re withdrawing with a hard downward stroke.
She gasped, aching, opened her eyes. “Searching for what?”
“Hot spots. Sweet spots.”
“I’m happy to point them out.”
“Hell, where’s the fun in that?” He slid her legs from his shoulders and planted his hands on her thighs. He spread her wide, took her in with a hungry, “Mmm-mmm-mmm.”
The grin on his face, all devouring, dominant male, sent a shot of heat to her core, and reckless need consumed her. She was his, completely, and helpless to understand why.
What she did know was that this was not, not, how to go about getting him out of her system for good.
Strange she had to remind herself of that. “You’ll never find them if you’re only using your eyes.”
“My eyes are having a very good time here.”
“My pussy would like some of that, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and this time he pushed his tongue deep inside her, used it like a cock to fuck her, in and out, in and out, barely giving her a chance to lose herself in the sensation before abandoning her again.
But even as she growled, he returned his mouth to her clit, inserting a finger into her cunt, adding a second, stroking her inner walls while tonguing her to madness. He sucked at her plump flesh. He caught her clit with his teeth and tugged. He crooked his finger and found the spot she’d been waiting for him to hit.
She arched into his touch, wanting more of it, wanting it harder, wanting… She didn’t know what, but he seemed to be holding something back.
Did he not want this? Was he not having fun? “Dax?”
He removed his fingers, kissed his way from her clit to her ass, from thigh to thigh, from her belly to the hollow of her throat. Then he rose up over her, his hands on either side of her head, and stared down. “Arwen?”
She looped her legs around him, hooked her heels in the small of his back. “Where are you?”
