She hoped she was going to have a sleepover of her own.
The thought made Becca breathless with anticipation . . . and a little bit of fear, too. She’d only ever slept with Greg. This would be new for her—for both of them, if what Hank had told her was true. And she loved Hank’s kisses and his touches, and she was craving more, but she was a little nervous at the same time. What if the rest of it wasn’t any good? What if she couldn’t come and he thought she was frigid? She came with Greg, but not often, and usually ended up faking it just to make him feel rewarded. After a while, it was always faking, and that didn’t help their fraying relationship stay together when it splintered each time.
She wasn’t going to fake it this time, she told herself. If he couldn’t make her come, well then, they’d figure something out. Maybe she’d get one of those Hitachi wand things everyone always talked about in women’s magazines. She was open to something like that. She was open to lots of things, as long as they felt good and they were together in all of it. Heck, she didn’t mind if all he wanted to do was kiss and cuddle tonight.
Okay, maybe she’d mind that a little bit. It was just that she wanted to go a little further, do a little more. See where this thing between them could lead. And she hoped he did, too.
Her heart was fluttering in her chest as they headed back down Main toward her salon-slash-home. She noticed that his truck was still parked in front and wondered if she should ask him to move it to someplace less obvious . . . then decided it didn’t matter. People would know they were dating. She didn’t care what they thought beyond that. She was an adult. Heck, she was almost thirty and single—she could do what she wanted. Becca turned to Hank as she got to her doorstep and gave him a slight smile. “Want to come in?”
He just arched a brow at her. “Unless you’d rather me touch you out here on the porch?”
Okay, now she was visualizing him touching her on the porch, and that should not have been near as much of a turn-on as it was. My goodness. “Inside is fine,” Becca told him, her insides quivering. He’d said touch. Not kiss. Touch. Maybe they’d take things further tonight . . . god, that sounded so good. She was more than ready. Her libido had felt long dead, and now it was flaring to life again just being around him. Biting her lip, she unlocked her door and then stepped inside. “What do you—”
Hank shut the door behind her and leaned against it, pulling her into his arms and interrupting her thoughts. A little moan escaped her as he dragged her forward until she straddled his big thigh, and his hand went to her waist. “Been waiting all night for a chance to be alone with you.”
“Just all night? I feel like I’ve been waiting days,” she teased, a trembling note in her voice as she lifted her arms and put them around his neck. “What did you have in mind now that we’re alone?”
“Nothing involving a kids’ movie.”
She chuckled at that. Thank goodness. “You had something dirtier in mind?”
“I have lots of dirty things going through my mind when it comes to you, Becca Loftis.” The look he gave her was intense, his expression downright devouring.
Her entire body prickled with awareness and her nipples felt hard against the front of her sweater. “I’m going to need details.”
“Details . . . or a demonstration?” His hands slid lower, went to her ass, and lifted her up just a fraction, dragging her up his thigh and making her private, throbbing spots rub against his leg in the most obvious—and delicious—fashion.
“Both?” She slid a hand to the front of his chest, played with one of the buttons on his shirt. She’d wanted him to throw her down on the floor and start kissing the hell out of her, but oh man, this flirty conversation was fun. It was making her all turned on without a single deliberate touch. She’d never been so aroused . . . maybe ever. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that when Hank talked about picking her up or dragging her around, he could do it. He was strong and powerful, and that was such an aphrodisiac. He made her feel small and helpless, and while she didn’t care for that outside of a relationship, in the bedroom? It was hot as heck.
“I can do both,” he murmured, studying her. “But I think we need to figure out you and me first.”
She blinked at him. It was hard to concentrate on his words when his big hand was splayed across her backside and she could grind against his thigh with a twitch of her hips. He had her like this, and they were sharing flirty words, and now . . . now he wanted to set relationship boundaries?
Was he determined to make her scream with frustration?
“What’s wrong with you and me?”
“I . . .” He frowned to himself. “Forget it. It’s not important.”
“What?” she pressed.
Hank shook his head. “Just forget I said anything. I’d rather talk about kissing you everywhere than start an argument.”
Argument? The last thing she wanted was that. She was definitely on board with the “kissing you everywhere” part, though. She hesitated, but when he didn’t continue, she supposed she should let it lie. They could talk later, maybe, after they’d both kissed so long and hard that they were dopey with endorphins.
Kissed . . . or other things. Becca had never gotten off the pill, and tonight she was utterly grateful for that. If he wanted to take things all the way—and, gosh, she hoped he did—she was more than ready. So she plucked at the button on his shirt, undoing it. “Then should we move this to the couch?”
“Too far away.” He grabbed her ass tighter and then carried her—carried her!—over to her kitchen table. She made a sound of surprised protest when he sat her down, and then he captured her mouth in a kiss, leaning over her as she sat on the table. Becca clung to him, wrapping her legs around his hips and running her hands up and down his big chest. God, had she forgotten just how utterly enormous Hank was? Because touching him like this reminded her that he was carved of solid marble, nothing but hot skin and thick muscle, and it did all kinds of crazy things to her. She’d have bet that there wasn’t an inch of fat on him anywhere . . . and she wanted to find that out for herself.
Tonight . . . she was going to, she decided. Tonight she was going to get her mouth all over him and do a little exploring. That sounded downright delicious.
Hank seemed to have the same idea she did. He nipped at her lip and kissed her sweetly, his tongue playing erotic little games with hers as he slid her long tunic dress up her hips and found the waist of her leggings, tugging them downward. When she had a long day at the salon, she dressed for comfort more than style, so she was wearing a cute skater dress and dark leggings, along with a pair of platform wedges. Greg had always told her it made her look shorter, so she wore things like this in defiance of his memory.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” Hank growled in her ear as he nipped at her earlobe. “Been driving me crazy all day, thinking about touching you.”
That confession made her tremble. “Oh?”
“Been wanting to get my hands on you,” he told her, his teeth grazing her neck. His beard scratched at her skin, but instead of bothering her, it just turned her on all the more. “Undress these curves of yours and just taste you all over. I’m going to do that tonight.”
“You are?” She could scarcely breathe, lost in the erotic picture he was painting.
“Hell yeah. Gonna kiss you everywhere you’ll let me. I might not have a ton of experience at doing it right, but I won’t give up until you come.” He cupped her chin and made her look into his eyes, trapping her with his gaze. “If that’s what you want.”
Was he asking for permission to kiss her everywhere? Dear lord, did he possibly think she’d say no? “Of course I want that. Why—”
“Because I’m a big dirty mountain man . . . or a cowboy, I guess. And you’re so sweet and pretty.” He traced his thumb over the curve of her lower lip, and her nipples felt like diamonds. “Never dreamed I’d
touch someone like you.”
“Hank, I’ve been waiting for this,” she told him, cupping his neck. “You’re not a big dirty anything to me. You’re my boyfriend . . . and I want you to be my lover.” The words sounded corny the moment they came out, but they also felt astonishingly bold. She’d never demanded that a man touch her before. “Kiss me. Kiss me everywhere you want, because I plan on doing the same to you.”
He gave a pleased, low growl in his throat and tore her leggings down her thighs in one swift move.
She gasped, but his mouth was right there to kiss her, and this time it wasn’t a playful kiss, but one of the deeper, drugging kisses that made her lose track of reality. They traded hot, fevered caresses, his tongue making her feel as if it was licking her lower than just her mouth. She throbbed with awareness, her body full of need. She wanted this. She wanted this so much.
Hank’s hands slid to her waist and he gripped her hips, then pushed under the skirt of her tunic again. As his mouth claimed hers, he found the band of her panties and dragged them down, just a little.
“Squirrels?” he asked between strokes of his tongue.
“Wh-what?” Becca couldn’t think, not with his mouth devouring hers.
“Got squirrels on these?” He teased a finger in the band.
She managed to shake her head. They weren’t her sexiest pair, but that didn’t matter, because they were coming off, and his attention was far more focused on her mouth than her clothing. “No squirrels.”
“You know what should be on them?”
“What?” she asked, breathless.
“My lips.”
Becca whimpered as he knelt on the floor, pushing her thighs apart. Her leggings were bunched at her calves, her shoes still on, and it was a glorious form of torture as he carefully pulled one shoe off her foot, and then the other. He eased the leggings off her, then oh so carefully slid one thigh over his shoulder and hauled her forward.
Her hands went to the table and she braced herself, leaning back, staring down at him in rapt fascination. Part of her wanted to be shy, to close her legs and suggest they go slower, but the rest of her was screaming for his mouth to be on her skin. She wanted him. He wanted to do this. Why stop him?
Even so, as he began to kiss up her thigh, she worried. Her body twitched with each brush of his mouth on her sensitive skin, right up until he kissed her mound. “Hank,” she whispered, then paused. She was shy about this sort of thing, weirdly enough. She’d had sex with Greg regularly in the beginning of their relationship, but he’d never shown any enthusiasm for going down on her. After a while, she’d stopped suggesting it and wondered if she was ugly down there, or if there was something else repulsive about the act itself. Greg’s junk wasn’t the prettiest thing to have in her face, but she’d always been happy to make him happy.
He looked up at her as she said his name, his eyes dark with lust. “You gonna tell me to stop?”
“I just . . . you don’t have to—”
He made an irritated sound in the back of his throat and, in the next moment, buried his face against her flesh, eliciting a squeak from her. “You think I don’t want to touch you here? Are you insane?” This time, he stopped playing with the band of her panties and began to pull them down even as he pressed his mouth against her mound. He paused only to let the silk fabric of her panties pass his lips, and then he was pressing kisses on the neatly trimmed strip of her curls. “Been thinking about doing this to you since that first night.” He looked up at her. “You tell me if I do something you don’t like and I’ll stop.”
“Oh, I like it,” Becca protested. “It’s just that—”
He flung her panties aside and then practically dove between her thighs, silencing her interruption. She leaned back once more, bracing her hands on the table and trying not to squirm.
Oh god. His mouth on her was . . . a lot. She closed her eyes, her mind overwhelmed with sensation. It wasn’t just the tickle of his lips or the slide of his tongue against her folds; it was the prickle of his beard inside her thighs, and his grip on her butt. Each of those things was enough to make her needy, but all of them together, and she felt like she’d collapse—except she was already sitting on top of her own dining table.
“Damn, Becca,” he breathed. “Didn’t know you’d taste this good.”
“Y-you’re welcome?” She didn’t know what else to say. A ticklish squeal escaped her as he ran a finger up and down the seam of her pussy, then swept it deeper, touching her from clit down to core. “Oh . . . Hank . . .”
“You can touch me,” he growled out, not lifting his head from under her skirt. “I’m not gonna stop.”
She put a tentative hand on his thick, dark hair, and then fisted it, sucking in a breath when his tongue brushed over her clit.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, that was good.” He did it again, and then he seemed to push his face deeper, working her pussy with long, deep strokes of his tongue, and she felt like she was crumbling. She slid lower on the table, her hand in his hair, as he continued to work her with strong, hard licks that made her thighs twitch and everything inside her tremble.
“Love this,” he murmured between licks. “Love your taste.”
Oh god, he really did seem to like it, because he didn’t let up in the slightest, even when her legs started to jerk. Her body tightened, and she started to grind against his mouth, as if unable to stop herself.
“Tell me what you need,” he commanded when she pushed against his mouth. “Tell me what’ll make you come hard, baby.”
Baby? Heck, she nearly came just then. But then he brushed a finger up and down her wet folds, dragging it over her as if trying to figure out the key to unlocking her. He pushed into her with one thick finger, and she moaned, hips arching as he began to slowly thrust in and out with that finger.
“More?” he asked, his breath hot on her wet skin a moment before he licked her again.
“My clit,” she told him, and then blushed when he immediately sucked it into his mouth and began to work it with his tongue. “Just . . . steady. Don’t stop.”
She wanted to give him more instructions, but then his tongue found the underside of her clit and began to tap in a steady motion in rhythm with the finger pumping into her, and then she felt it. That hot, deep spiral began in her belly, everything slowly tightening. If she could let that build, it’d be a hard, body-shaking orgasm deep from within—the best kind. She just had to relax and let it happen.
His tongue flicked against her clit, over and over. It felt so good, yet she started to feel guilty when that orgasm didn’t come busting right out of the gate. Instead, it kept slowly building, taking its sweet time to crest, and she started to worry that he’d lose interest or change something. “Keep going, please. Oh, please. I know I’m taking a while, but it’s so good.”
He growled again and lifted his head, and she could have cried at the pause. “I’m not stopping ’til you come all over my face, baby.”
And then he lowered his head and picked up the same aggravating, intoxicating rhythm as before, the one that was oh so slowly sending her over the edge.
Becca whimpered, clinging to Hank’s head with both hands now as he worked her clit, never letting up, letting the moments build and build. And then suddenly she was there, her entire body feeling as if it was collapsing on itself, her insides shuddering as she came hard. A little cry escaped her, and then she pushed at him as the orgasm quaked through her, trying to get him to ease up. He didn’t, though, and it kept ripping through her, tearing her apart with such intense bliss that she felt like she was going to fall right off the table.
When he finally lifted his head and pressed a ticklish, bearded kiss on the inside of her thigh, Becca felt like a puddle of mush. “I liked that.”
Such a simple statement. But that was Hank. He didn’t like to use more words if he didn’t have to. A little gigg
le escaped her and then she smoothed the hair she’d rumpled—and fisted—with shaking fingers. “That was amazing. I’m sorry it took so long—”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “Never apologize. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t doing it wrong.”
She let out a dreamy sigh and fell back on the table. “God, no. You couldn’t have done it more right if you’d tried.”
“Good.” Like she was a child, he scooped her up off the table and carried her. She thought he’d stop by the sofa, but to her surprise, he went up the stairs and all the way to her bedroom, gently laying her down on her back. Then he lay next to her and curled his big body against hers. She was the small spoon, and, oh, this was almost as nice as the orgasm. She loved cuddling.
Almost as nice. That orgasm had been pretty amazing.
She hugged Hank’s arm to her waist, not complaining when he slid it up to her breasts and cupped one. That had probably been the best orgasm she’d ever had. Did she tell him? Or would that seem insincere? Becca didn’t know. He’d asked her what she’d liked, and he’d taken his sweet time, making sure that it was good for her, and he hadn’t even come yet. Heck, she could feel the hot brand of his dick in his jeans, pressing against her backside.
But he wasn’t rushing her. Instead, he just held her close and toyed with her hair, his hand possessively on her breast. She wished he’d kiss her neck again, but their size differences made that impossible in this position, so she just smiled and snuggled back against him. “Just for the record, that was amazing.”
Hank’s low chuckle teased the top of her head. “Good. My first time. Glad I got it right.”
“You . . . never did that before?”
“Nah.” He paused, silent for a long moment. “Adria just wanted to have sex real quick like and then have me go to sleep. Couldn’t figure out why. Now I know it’s because she wanted to go through my wallet, but at the time I just thought maybe she wasn’t into me touching her. That my hands were too rough or something.”
The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 14
