Unable to Resist

by Cassie Graham

  I nod my head. “Hey, Eddie?”

  Looking in the rearview mirror, he looks to the back. “Yes ma’am?”

  “Call me Ann, please.” I smile at him.

  The sun is still shining bright to the west, so Eddie takes his dark sunglasses off, eyes sparkling. He gives a curt nod and agrees. “Okay—Ann.” His eyes shift back to the front, and he starts the engine. The truck roars to life, and we head north toward the outskirts of Nashville.

  Passing my favorite shops on our way out of town, I get a text from Duane.

  Duane: Good evening, Red. I’m a little hungry. Are you?

  I smile down at my phone, and quickly reply.

  Me: I could eat some food. Definitely.

  Duane: I didn’t say I was hungry for food, but that works too.

  My heart skips and stutters in my chest. I re-read the text over and over again, grinning like a fool.

  My door swings open, and I look up from my phone. I hadn’t noticed we’d stopped.

  Duane stands outside the door, his hands tucked into his pockets. He looks astonishing in snug denim jeans, his signature brown boots and a pearl snap, pressed black shirt. His eyes glimmer dark green, and I bring my hand to my chest. Beating wildly under my palm, I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.

  Smiling a heartfelt smile, Duane softly cups my face and brings his lips down to meet mine. The instant his skin makes contact, electricity cracks between us. I’m still sitting in the back of the SUV, so I twist in my seat and pull on Duane’s shirt, bring him closer to me. He lets go of my face, and places his hands on my jean-clad thighs. Sighing happily, he squeezes. Feeling fire in my toes, I open my mouth, letting his tongue in.

  Eddie clears his throat, and we reluctantly pull away. “Uhh—sorry,” he apologizes, “but if you want to make good time on your plans, you better get going.”

  Duane gives a sly smile and he nods to Eddie. “Thanks, Ed. We’ll be back at nine thirty.”

  Eddie dips his head, and turns for the front.

  Duane offers his hand, and I slide out, holding firmly to it.

  My feet hit the gravel and Duane balks. “You going to be okay walking in those heels?”

  I lift my foot to inspect the height, and then look toward the house about a quarter mile away. I figure if I want to look good, I’ll suffer through the pain.

  “I’ll be alright, Cowboy.”

  With my hand in his, we walk down the dirt road, simply enjoying being together. The crickets begin to chirp as the sun descends on the horizon and the sky explodes into pinks, yellows and oranges.

  I haven’t seen a real sunset in ages. Of course, I’ve seen them over the years at my shop, but it doesn’t quite compare to being out in the country, watching it in its prime. It’s breathtaking. “This is gorgeous, Duane.”

  I see in my peripheral that he moves his head to look at me. “It is, isn’t it?”

  I turn away from the sunset, and grin.

  Just beyond a hill, a red barn comes into view. Just beyond the barn lies a beautiful two-story house. Painted blue with white trimmings, the house looks like something out of my dreams. It’s soft and inviting. The bright red door adds more character and my eyes bulge. I’ve always had a thing for red doors. Living in Arizona, I never got the type of neighborhood I often saw in movies; they didn’t exist. The wraparound porch stretches wide and a swing hangs from the beams.

  “Is this your house, Duane?” I ask, flabbergasted.

  A radiant smile appears on Duane’s face. “Yeah.”

  “This is just—holy shit, Duane. This place is amazing,” I say in awe.

  My eyes can’t settle on one thing before I find something else that amazes me. The huge oak tree in front of the house looks at least fifty years old; its trunk shows it’s been there for a very long time. One of the more prominent branches holds a tire swing. I don’t know if it’s the wide-open acreage or the clean, fresh air bringing out my youthful spirit but I skip to it. Hopping in, I push myself off the ground. Duane laughs behind me and pushes me higher. With the wind blowing in my hair, I feel ten years old again.

  I swing for a few minutes before I put my feet to the ground and stop. “I love it here already.”

  Duane stands over me, and pushes my now-wild hair behind my ear. “I love it more when you’re here. This place suits you, Red.”

  I blush and look down; loving that he likes me in his world. To the left of the house, I spot that someone has planted a plentiful garden full of vegetables and herbs.

  “You garden?” I ask, pointing in its direction.

  Duane shrugs. “A little. Mom started it, but when she died, I didn’t have it in me to let it go away, too.”

  “Well, you’ve done a great job,” I offer as I walk toward it.

  Bright tomatoes and green peppers poke from around the vines. Bringing my hand down to a bunch of cherry tomatoes, I place one between my fingers and give a little squeeze, looking to Duane for permission.

  He bounces on his toes and winks, indicating I can pluck it from the vine. Wiping it with my hand, I take a bite. The tangy, sweet flavors explode in my mouth, and I wipe the juice as it falls down my chin.

  “Oops, sorry.” I snicker a bit.

  Duane shakes his head, eyes wide. “Good God, don’t be. I don’t think I’ll ever look at tomatoes the same way again.”

  Popping the rest of the tomato in my mouth, I look at Duane. “Where to next, Cowboy?”

  He laces his hand through mine. “Dinner?”

  I perk up. “At the house?”

  “Not exactly,” he says with a glint of mischievousness.

  The short walk from the house to the lake in the middle of the property was unbelievable. The sky began to darken as the night awoke. I’ve never seen a place become so alive at night. The water danced in the light breeze, reflecting the moon in a way that can only be described as magical.

  Walking around the back of the lake, another big oak tree comes into view, showcasing a blanket and a picnic basket at its roots.

  “You made us a picnic?” I ask in shock, and maybe even a little awe. In all of my twenty-five years, no one has ever made me a picnic.

  He stops to grab my hands. “No, sweet girl, I made you a picnic. Contrary to what my brother might tell you, I don’t picnic alone. As a matter of fact,” he stops to laugh, “this is the first picnic I’ve ever prepared. For anyone.”

  Anticipation bubbles from my chest, and I pull him toward the blanket, anxious to see the spread up close. “I’m honored, Cowboy. Thank you so much. This is incredible.”

  He beams and tugs at my hand to sit down. The leaves rustle in the breeze, leaving a sense of calmness over the evening. Pulling out two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a couple bags of chips and two mason jars filled with apple juice, I can’t help but laugh.

  He looks at me, a bit shy, and shrugs. “I’m not much of a cook. This was the best I could do.”

  Gently, I touch his cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

  “I’m glad you like it, but this isn’t it. We still have a lot to do. The night is young, my love.” He provokes the statement with a whimsical tone.

  My heartbeat picks up, and I look down to mask my eagerness. I’ve daydreamed countless times how our dates would go, and this completely surpasses my every expectation.

  The sky has gone completely black, but the bright stars shine so radiantly I can see Duane perfectly.

  Picking up a sandwich, he takes a bite. “I don’t know if I’m just a bit crazy, but this might be the best PB and J I’ve ever had.”

  I take a bite, and hum in agreement. “You might be right. These are the most scrumptious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches ever.”

  Duane takes another bite and licks his lips. “You know what? I think it might be the company.”

  Dropping my food, I move to his lap and kiss him deeply. “I think you’re right.”

  Eddie opens the doo
r to the back seat, grinning a little too big for my liking. He knows something.

  “So, wait,” I say to Duane as Eddie helps hoist me into the seat, “you’re really not going to tell me where we are going?

  Duane hops in next to me, and pulls something from his back pocket. “Nope, sorry baby.”

  Not an ounce of sorry is in that voice.

  I look to his hands. “A blindfold, really?”

  “Uh huh,” he says, sliding the cool, black satin tie over my eyes.

  My excitement boils as the cloth tightens and Duane straightens it across my forehead.

  My world goes dark and my other senses pick up automatically. Duane’s breath is loud in my heightened hearing, and I swear I can hear him lick his lips. I’m hyper aware of him sitting next to me, playing with the inside of my thigh, teasing me. My skin rises in goose bumps under my jeans, and my toes curl involuntarily, waiting to see where this is heading.

  Car sex?

  One can only hope.

  The car lurches forward, and I clutch Duane’s leg.

  He shifts closer to me. “Eddie, put the partition up, please.”

  I hear Eddie clear his throat and the sound of sliding glass fills my ears.

  “Thank you,” Duane says.

  Just before it closes, Eddie utters, “Yes, sir.”

  The glass partition clamps and Duane growls in my ear. “You fucking naughty girl. You are driving me mad, you know that?”

  His hungry tone strained and I groan in response.

  “I can already feel how turned on you are, even through your jeans. Do you want me, Red?” He asks as he cups me outside of my jeans. “You’re on fire.”

  I move my hands to his chest, letting them fall lower. I just want to feel his body.

  Duane catches both of my wrists and leans close to my ear giving me a tsk, “No, no, minx. Hands to yourself,” he taunts, gently setting my hands on the tops of my legs. “Now, don’t move those hands, otherwise, I won’t let you come. Understand?”

  Our space suddenly feels too hot; it’s not big enough. My emotions are running rampant, filling up the cabin. I would have never guessed Duane would dominate. That word doesn’t even come to mind when describing him. Sweet, tender, loving? Oh, absolutely, but seeing, or should I say hearing, this side of his personality makes him all the more perfect. I had no idea I liked this in a man.

  I whimper, feeling turned on and slightly moody. I desperately want to touch him, but I comply. I don’t know if I can get through the rest of the night feeling like this.

  “Okay,” I say in a voice I don’t even recognize as my own. It’s light and breathy. Entirely needy. I’m usually in control.

  “I’m going to ask you again, Red. Do. You. Want. Me?” He demands.

  The need in his hands is evident. One caresses my upper thigh and the other lightly traces the contours of my lips.

  I give up. “Yes. God, yes. Please,” I plead.

  His hand travels to the button on my jeans, easily snapping it open.

  “Please, what?” He grinds out in a harsh voice.

  I imagine him grinding his teeth, his jaw clenched with eager desire, working hard to contain himself.

  “Touch me,” I say, breathless.

  “Touch you? Where?” He insists.

  I moan. I don’t want to play this game. I’m not good at it. Dirty talk is not my forte.

  Silent lover? Hell, yeah, sign me up.

  Dear Prude Ann, open the hell up. This man wants you. YOU. Tell him what you want.

  Pansy ass.

  I still can’t form the words so I move his hand to my center.

  “Here. Please,” I stammer, squeezing his hand over the area. Hmmm, pent up sexual frustration works.

  My white lacy thong is soaked through. If I was in any other state, I’d be mortified but, at this moment, he could tear that thing to pieces, put it in his pocket for safekeeping and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

  Slowly, so fucking agonizingly slow, he dips one finger into me, circling my clit, causing me to arch deeper into his touch. I moan. No man has touched me there. All he has to do is circle a few more times and I’ll be done.

  “Shhh,” he whispers. “Don’t want Eddie to hear, do we?”

  I turn into his shoulder and let out an audible whimper.

  “That’s it, baby,” Duane urges, finally pushing his finger inside me. “Just let go.”

  My hands are still glued to my legs, so I pull at the bunched fabric of my jeans as they slip farther down my body.

  Adding another finger, Duane rocks my body back and forth in a sensual motion that drives me higher and higher to oblivion. Using his thumb, he reaches for my swollen nub and I come.

  Moaning hard and loud into his shoulder, I’m unable to keep my hands from tearing at his shirt, as I attempt to bring him closer.

  Greedily, he pulls my mouth to his, demanding my yells. He absorbs them, kissing me until I’ve come down from my high.

  Euphoria.

  I’ve never felt sensations so intense in my life. Being with Duane brings so many new feelings to all these experiences that accompany relationships. I have no idea how I lived somewhat happily before him.

  “Holy shit, Duane, holy shit.” I’m sweaty, and probably in need of new foundation, but I couldn’t be happier. “That was—wow.”

  He’s still lightly stroking me from the inside, and I can feel myself building up again.

  My muscles begin to tense again. How is this possible?

  “Again?” He asks.

  I shake my head; I don’t know if I could handle another orgasm.

  He lets out a low grumble and kisses my temple. “Okay, but baby girl, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you when you come.”

  With one more glorious stroke, he takes his fingers away. Leaving me to feel almost empty. Still in my orgasm-haze and blindfolded, It took me a moment to realize what he did with his fingers.

  Hearing his lips smack, I conclude he had put them in his mouth, tasting me.

  Holy—fucking—whoa. I so desperately want to look at him.

  I feel him grin, almost wickedly, against my temple. “Fucking delicious,” he taunts, moving away in the slightest. His knuckles graze my cheek and I’d guess he’s giving his fingers one last suck.

  I gulp a few times, wrapping my mind around the insanely hot and private moment we just experienced together.

  I let go of his shirt to adjust my pants back around my hips and button them.

  “Can I touch you now?” I ask, turning toward him. I can’t see his expression, and I have no idea if he’s okay with me putting my hands on him, but I let my feelings overtake actions.

  Ever so slowly, I set my hands on his shoulders to situate myself in his lap. His cock, still hard under his jeans, jumps at the contact when I set myself down on him. My stomach flip-flops as I begin to unbutton his jeans.

  Bringing his face to my neck, I feel his smile again. It’s predatory-like, and how I know that, I have no idea. He begins to open his mouth to speak when Eddie’s voice booms from the speakers.

  “We’re here, sir,” he says, quickly.

  Duane moves his head from the curve of my neck and sighs heavily, tense. Pushing himself on me one last time, we both moan. Easily, he lifts me by my hips and sets me on the seat next to him.

  “Thanks, Eddie,” he clears his throat, “give us a minute.”

  With my eyes covered, it’s easy to mentally envision all of the things we could do in this SUV. Sexually satisfied Ann is making her debut. I tug at the blindfold and fight my knowing smirk.

  “What are you grinning for, Darlin’?” Duane asks with glee.

  I shrug a shoulder. “I’m truly sorry there was only enough time for me.”

  He traces my bottom lip with his thumb and my mouth seeks it.

  “It’s okay. Tonight is about you,” he brags.

  “It is, is it?”

  Eddie opens our door and I silently thank Duane for not removi
ng the blindfold yet. I can only imagine the look and smile on his face; he totally has to know something went down back here. Thank God I don’t have to look him in the eye.

  Duane kisses my forehead. “Absolutely. Now, let’s go.”

  Stepping out of the truck, Duane removes the blindfold and I look up.

  “We’re at Chords?” I ask, shrieking louder than I intended.

  It’s difficult to get tickets here. Liv told me Aiden works with the staffing coordinator and that’s how he was able to get in.

  “Wait; are Liv and Aiden here, too?”

  Duane places his cowboy hat on his head and shrugs. “Probably. I doubt we’ll see them though. The place is huge.”

  I give him a suspicious look, but say no more.

  The line outside wraps around the building and, yet again, we pass right by. I wonder how this became my life; I used to be the girl outside waiting for the important people to go in first, just waiting for my turn. Since meeting Duane, he’s found a way to get us in, no problems.

  “Wait. Holy shit—,” I say, comprehending something. “You’re the one that got Liv tickets to The Rhinestone Cowboy, huh?” It makes sense. She’s sly, but I didn’t think she could pull that off. Two clubs in a row, I don’t think she lives some secret life.

  He flushes.

  “I knew it!” I bounce from foot to foot.

  He pulls on my hand, leading me to the door. “Don’t tell her I did that. I made a few calls and had the owner contact her.”

  “Duane, you really have this city in the palm of your hand, don’t you?” I accuse, jokingly.

  He gives me an incredulous look. “Not really,” he nods to the bouncer, who gives him a salute as we pass the threshold. “I represented him in a lawsuit a few years back. He lets me into his clubs whenever I want. It’s no big deal.”

  I beam. “You’re pretty amazing, Cowboy.”

  He pulls me to his side, and kisses my cheek. The long hallway echoes with music coming from the main stage. The blue walls vibrate with bass, and I cling to Duane’s arm, already feeling intoxicated.

  The hallway opens to the main floor. A huge stage sitting in the back of the room looks big enough to fill a stadium. Duane wasn’t kidding when he said this place was big.