Westmoreland's Way

by Brenda Jackson

  “I brought condoms,” he said, patting the pocket of his slacks. There was no need to tell her just how many since it might scare her.

  “And I’m on the pill.” She bit nervously on her bottom lip and then added, “And I am not sleeping with Fletcher. I’ve never slept with him, in case you’re wondering about that for health reasons.”

  Fletcher.

  It was only then that he remembered the other man, which made him glance down at her hand. She had taken the ring off again. He wondered why she and her fiancé had never been intimate. Not that he was complaining.

  He truly believed she was not a woman who could be in love with one man and sleep with another. That meant there was something about her engagement to Mallard that wasn’t on the up-and-up. Sooner or later he intended to get some answers. But not now.

  The only thing he wanted to get right now was some of her.

  He suddenly detected that her scent had changed and, like a man acutely honed on the woman he wanted, he breathed her into his nostrils, a potent blend of perfume and body chemistry. It was an aroma that could drive a man wild and would make him want to get inside of her real quick and explode all over the place. But only after making sure she was ready to detonate right along with him.

  For a long time after Tammi had left he had kept his guard up around women, and had only dated when he got a physical urge to mate as a way to relax, relieve stress and keep his abundance of male hormones in check. But there was something different about Pam, something he’d picked up on the first moment he’d seen her.

  She sparked to life something inside of him and he knew making love with her was about more than just blowing off steam. More than great sex. It was about a connection he had never felt before with a woman. A connection on a plane so high it had his insides throbbing.

  On a deep, shuddering breath he reached out and tilted her chin up, needing to plunge into her mouth once more, to intensify the connection he already felt. And when she automatically pressed closer to him, he deepened the kiss and slid his arms around her, holding her in a tight grip, as if he never wanted to let her go.

  He gave full concentration to her mouth, just as he had done earlier that day. He’d once heard a woman say that you hadn’t been kissed unless you’d been kissed by a Westmoreland. Dillon wanted to make sure after tonight that Pam thought the same thing.

  So with thorough precision and a masterful meticulousness, Dillon took his time and put his tongue to work. He penetrated it into areas of her mouth that had her groaning, and then he flicked it around in a way that seemed to jar her senses—if the sounds she was making were any indication. He enjoyed kissing her, but moments later he knew he wanted more. Pulling his mouth from hers he took a step back to remove his jacket.

  After tossing it across a chair he whispered, “Undress me and then I will undress you.” He intended to save her—the best—for last.

  A pair of uncertain eyes stared up at him in a way that had him asking, “You have done this before, right?”

  He watched a lump appear in her throat as she swallowed, and then she said in a strained voice, “Which part?”

  Which part? He lifted a curious brow before responding. “Any of it.”

  She shrugged her feminine shoulders. “I’ve had sex before, if that’s what you’re asking. While in college. Twice. But it wasn’t good. Both times it was over before it got started. And I’ve never undressed a man.”

  She then lowered her gaze for a second before returning her eyes to his with a flush on her face. “I’ve said too much, haven’t I?” she asked softly. “Given too much information?”

  As far as Dillon was concerned, it definitely hadn’t been too much information. What she’d just said was something he needed to know. Now he was aware of just what she needed and how she needed it. If any woman deserved to be made love to the Westmorelands’ way, it was her. And he intended to do the honors. Proudly. Gladly. Tonight would be a night she wouldn’t easily forget. In fact, he planned on taking things slow and making sure every aspect of the evening stayed in her memory forever.

  “No, you’ve told me what I needed to know,” he said. In fact, he was sure there had to be more, like why the man she intended to marry hadn’t done his job. But they would talk about Fletcher later.

  “I’m going to make undressing me worth your while,” he said, smiling at her, already imagining her hands on him, all over him. “Go ahead, baby, and do your thing.”

  She gave him a hesitant smile before reaching out, and the moment her fingers began working on the buttons of his shirt his stomach knotted, and it was all he could do to remember he was supposed to go at a slow pace and not be tempted to speed up the process. This first round would be hers and he intended to make it special for her, even if it killed him.

  Pam pushed the shirt off Dillon’s shoulders and marveled at how broad they were. She couldn’t resist the temptation to touch them, amazed at the strength she felt in them. Then her hands slid to the dark hairs of his chest and she glanced down and saw his hard, flat abdomen. Dillon had a beautifully powerful body, she thought.

  Deciding she wanted to check out other areas of that body, she trailed her fingers downward. The moment she did so, she heard his sharp intake of breath and glanced up to his face. The eyes watching her beneath lowered lashes were dark, smoky, sensuous.

  Knowing they didn’t have all night, she unhooked his belt and pulled it through the loops before tossing it to join his jacket and shirt on the chair. She glanced back up at him. “I need to take your boots and socks off before going any further,” she said softly.

  He smiled before sitting down on the bed so she could remove his boots and socks. When that was finished, she stepped back as he stood again. Instinctively, her hands went to his waist and she eased down his zipper. Tugging it down wasn’t as easy as she’d thought it would be, mainly because of the size of his erection. It was hard to believe that he wanted her that much.

  “Need help?”

  She glanced up at him. “I’ll be okay once I get this zipper past here.”

  He chuckled. “Here where?”

  She couldn’t help chuckling with him before replying, “You know where. And why do you have to be so big?” Too late. She couldn’t believe she’d actually asked that.

  Embarrassed to the core, she peered back up at him and saw the huge smile on his face. “This isn’t funny, Dillon Westmoreland.”

  “No, sweetheart, that is the most precious thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  She knew he was teasing, of course, and after working with his zipper a few moments more it finally cooperated. She was able to tug his pants down his legs as he stepped out of them. Satisfied, she took a step back. There was only one piece left, his briefs. She frowned, wondering why she hadn’t thought to remove them with his pants.

  “It’s not all that serious,” he said in a deep, husky voice.

  “Maybe not for you, but it is for me,” she said, giving him a playful pout. “This is my first time and I have to get it right.”

  A smile curved his lips. “No, you don’t. You can get it all wrong and I will still make love to you tonight.”

  His words, as well as the determined look in his eyes, did something to her, made her eager to remove his final piece of clothing. She was curious to unveil that part of him that had given her the most trouble. From the way the briefs fit him she had a pretty good idea of just how well-endowed he was. The rest of him was exceedingly toned, definitely virile and oh-so-male.

  She inserted her fingers into the waistband of his briefs and gently tugged them down his hips, having no easier time getting them off than she had his slacks. But what removing them fully exposed to her eyes had been well worth the trouble. The man’s body was perfect in clothes, but she was particularly enjoying this view of him out of clothes. She had seen a naked man before, but not one this well put together. Not one this large and hard.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Sh
e glanced up and met his gaze, suddenly feeling shy, awkward and unsure of her capabilities where he was concerned. “I hope not,” she said softly.

  “There is not,” he countered. “Go ahead, feel your way. Touch it.” And then in a lower voice he said, “Get to know it.”

  Get to know it? She had never fondled a man before in her life but, doing what he suggested, she reached out and first ran her fingers over the tip, fascinated by the feel of the smooth head. Then she traced with her fingertips a path along the sides, marveling at the swollen veins. And when she finally got the nerve to close her hand around him, he moaned out loud.

  She quickly loosened her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “It didn’t hurt. In fact, just the opposite. Your touch feels good.”

  She smiled at that. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Umm, in that case…” She began stroking her hand up and down the length of his thick erection. Her gaze held tight to his face and watched how his eyes became glazed and his lips seemed to tremble. She smiled, satisfied with her efforts and what they were doing to him.

  “Not so bad for an amateur, wouldn’t you say?” She beamed, feeling like she had accomplished something monumental and proud of herself for doing so. She allowed her hands to get more brazen while watching his erection get harder, and feeling it thicken in her hands.

  “I have no complaints,” he said in what sounded like a tortured moan. His physical reaction fascinated her, brought out a level of womanly pride that drove her boldness.

  “When you’re through having your fun then it’s my turn,” he said in a voice that to her ears sounded like an intoxicated slur.

  She considered the wisdom of continuing what she was doing for too long and stole a peek at him from under her lashes. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back at an angle that showed the veins in his neck. They looked like they were straining. Almost ready to pop.

  “Hey, I’m merely doing what I was told. You said to get to know it,” she said defensively, but couldn’t hide her smile.

  Deciding she’d gotten to know him very well, she released him and stepped back and watched as he slowly regained control. Then he stared at her and muttered in a low, throaty voice, “Now it’s my time to get you naked.”

  Getting her naked would be just the start, Dillon thought, looking at her and imagining just how she would look without her jeans and sweater. Even now she looked sexy, with her raven-black hair spilling around her shoulders, a few loose tendrils cascading around her face. Making love to her had been on his mind since leaving her house, and now that he was here, standing stark naked in front of her, knowing that soon, very soon, he would be inside of her sent his entire body into an intense throb mode.

  “Come here, Pam,” he murmured in a breathless tone, and watched as she didn’t hesitate to cover the short distance between them.

  When she was within close range, he reached out and snagged her by the waist and brought her closer to the fit of him, and was sure, without a doubt, that she could feel his hardness and his heat, through her jeans.

  But he wanted more. He wanted to give her more. Wanted to let her feel more. And with that thought firmly planted in his mind, he reached out and pulled her sweater over her head. Moments later he slung it onto the chair. Her lacy black bra was sexy, but also needed to come off, and he proceeded to remove it. Like her sweater, he sent it flying to the chair.

  “Good aim,” she leaned closer to say, her breath warm against his throat.

  “Thanks,” he uttered raspily, his gaze giving her breasts full attention. Her breasts were full, firm twin mounds supported by delicate, feminine shoulders. As if a magnet was drawing his gaze, his eyes were pulled to the nipples and, unable to resist temptation, he took the pad of his finger to flick across both hardened tips.

  But he wanted to do more than just look and touch. He wanted to taste them and, with that thought in mind, he leaned in and lowered his mouth to close over a quivering, delicious-looking peak.

  “Dillon.”

  The moment she said his name he stuck out his tongue to run it across a nipple before pulling it into his mouth to suck in all earnestness. He didn’t even try to change his stance when she lifted her hand to support the back of his head to keep right where he was, to continue what he was doing. Not that he intended to stop. The taste of her breasts was arousing him and, with an easy movement, he shifted his mouth to the other nipple to greedily ply it with the same attention.

  By the time he lifted his head and met her gaze he could barely keep his entire body from trembling. A need for her, to make love to her, surged through him and he stooped down on bended knees to remove her shoes and socks. To maintain her balance she placed a hand on his shoulder and her touch sent his muscles rippling as sensations roared through him, made him clench his teeth.

  After removing her shoes and socks, he stood, straightened his body to his full height and without saying a single word he reached for the waistband of her jeans. Somehow he managed to hold it together until she stood before him in nothing more than sexy, black, lacy, high-cut panties. They were panties he would be taking off her and he was fighting the urge to just rip them off her instead.

  Getting back on his knees he began lowering her panties down her long, gorgeous legs, and sucked in a deep breath when her scent surrounded him. He shot a glance upward and saw the heated look of desire in her eyes.

  It took all his strength to stand, and without wasting any more time, he reached out and swept her into his arms. Holding her gently he moved to the bed and together they tumbled back onto the covers.

  Seven

  P am felt her stomach stir when she gazed up into Dillon’s eyes. She had ended up on her back between his firm thighs, with him towering over her. At that very moment she felt several things. Captured. Ensnarled. His.

  She forced the last from her mind immediately. How could a woman be engaged to one man and possessed by another? She didn’t want to be confused by anything now, and she certainly didn’t want to think about Fletcher. This was her time, this sensual interlude, her moment to seize something she might never have again.

  You give. I take. No regrets.

  And from the eyes bearing down on her and the arms locked on both sides of her, she had a feeling Dillon Westmoreland was more than ready to take everything she had to give. And there would be no time for regrets.

  He began lowering his head and she lifted hers upward to meet his mouth. The moment they touched, he began devouring her with a hunger and need that she felt all the way to her toes. He had kissed her greedily before, but this was a different kind of ravenousness, one that bordered on insatiability. As if, no matter how many times he kissed her or how deep and thorough the kisses, he would never be able to get enough. However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. And in this case, trying meant using his tongue to pleasure her in a way she’d never been pleasured before. No man before had taken so much time, had concentrated on so much detail during a kiss. It was a practice that he’d perfected and she was the satisfied recipient.

  He gave all and held back nothing. Provoking her, tempting her, almost demanding of her to give back. So she did, by boldly returning his kiss with his same voraciousness. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he sank his mouth even deeper onto hers. Her response was wanton, her desires keen and her senses at the moment were shot to hell.

  He broke off the kiss at the same time his hands began to move all over her as he held her gaze. Starting at the center of her throat, he slowly inched a path downward toward her chest. When he reached her breasts and ran the pad of his thumb across the protruding tips, pleasure, as sharp as it could get, rammed through her and she almost forgot to breathe. And when he leaned closer to replace his fingers with his mouth, she felt heat circulate then settle between her legs.

  When he brought his tongue into the mix she gasped. Suddenly she felt full as if she needed to scream out, but could not. The m
ost she could do was summon up enough energy to moan. Then his mouth released her breasts and he began trailing a heated path down to her navel with his tongue. He seemed fascinated with her belly button and she felt his wet tongue all around it. She shuddered as her stomach tightened and then relaxed, over and over again.

  And when she thought he would be returning to her mouth, he shifted his body, lifted her hips and dipped his head. The moment the scalding tip of his tongue went inside her womanly core, she emitted a loud moan. At the same time, she heard his growl of male satisfaction. It was evident from the way he was using his tongue inside of her, that he enjoyed this type of lovemaking. He went about it with such ardent dedication that she was nearly in tears. She was pinned between his mouth and the mattress. She realized that he didn’t intend on letting her go anywhere until he got his fill.

  And he didn’t intend to be rushed.

  He was meticulous in his lovemaking, pushing her just to the peak, driving her close to the edge again and again. She couldn’t suppress her response and groaned shamelessly, holding firm to his shoulders while she was his enjoyment. And even moments later when she let out a scream as a tide of pleasure came crashing down on her, his mouth remained locked on her, as if determined to savor every last bit of her.

  It was only later, when she felt weak as water and was panting for breath, that he lifted his mouth to withdraw from her. He leaned back on his haunches, licked his lips and gave her a smile that made her come all over again.

  There was nothing more beautiful than seeing a woman clutched in the throes of ecstasy, Dillon thought, as he studied Pam’s features. And just knowing he’d been the cause sent desire clamoring all through him and made his already hard body feel harder.