by Becky McGraw
“Um, yeah?” She crossed her arms over her breasts, suddenly self-conscious now just standing there naked in front of him.
“Get it,” he ordered flatly, as he unfastened his jeans. “I need a damned drink.”
Twyla felt his eyes burning her back as she stumbled into the kitchen. She opened the cabinet over the sink, and pulled down the bottle of rotgut bourbon that Heather kept there for emergencies, as she called it. Twyla felt sure this situation qualified. She found the shot glasses on the bottom shelf, and grabbed two.
The way things were going, the only way Twyla would be able to maintain her Daisy confidence and persona was with a little false courage herself. She sat the bottle down and opened it, poured herself a shot then downed it. The bitter taste numbed her taste buds, as the fiery liquid scorched all the way down to her toes. Thankfully, she felt the edge on her nervousness blur, as she recapped the bottle and picked up the spare glass. When she rounded the corner, she stumbled as her eyes fell on Ryan, who was completely naked now, leaning on the table with his arms crossed over his muscular chest.
A sly, sexy grin creased his face. “Good girl,” he praised, as he took the bottle and glass from her numb fingers to slam them down on the table. Uncapping the bottle, he filled the shot glass, before turning back to her. He motioned to the table and the amber liquid swirled in the shot glass. “Now, hop your pretty little ass up on that table.”
Disbelief shot through her. “What?”
“I want my gut shot with a Daisy chaser,” he informed, toasting her with the glass.
A shiver worked itself down her spine to settle between her legs. Heather taking a shot off of her stomach didn’t do a damned thing for her, it was an act. Somehow, she didn’t think Ryan was acting. And she had a feeling she wouldn’t have to fake the result either.
When she didn’t move his eyes narrowed. “Who’s a slow mover now, Daisy?” he taunted smugly. “I thought you were in a hurry to get to the fireworks?”
“I, ah…” haven’t ever had sex, much less on a table.
Ryan tossed back the shot, and flinched, before refilling the glass. “Better hurry up, or I might be too drunk to perform,” he said without looking up. He slapped his hand to his forehead, as he stood. “Oh yeah, what am I thinking? You’re used to drunk men pawing you. Probably fucked plenty of them too, right?” He gave her a nasty wink, and a leering grin.
It was obvious he was trying to hurt her, by making her feel like a piece of meat. He was doing a good job of it. “Fuck you,” tumbled out of her mouth, before she could stop it.
Twyla wondered if he treated all the women he slept with like this. If that was the case, no wonder there weren’t many who came back for a repeat performance. Why he went through so many of them, but none had stuck.
Anger flashed in his eyes, but he grinned. “That’s the idea, baby. Now, if you want that to happen sometime tonight, you’ll get your ass up on that table.”
Hurt punched her in the gut to mix with the nasty whiskey. Twyla felt it rise up to her throat and swallowed it back down. “You know, I don’t think I do want it to happen tonight, or ever for that matter. You’re not the man I thought you were.” She turned to stomp across the living room and bent to pick up her robe. “Maybe you treat your bunnies like this, but you sure as hell aren’t going to treat me like this.” She turned with the robe clutched to her chest and ran smack into Ryan’s muscular chest.
His arms clamped around her, and he pinned her with intense eyes. “Drop your Daisy act, Twy—I know you better than that too and it pisses me off. You’re not that woman.” His arms loosened, and he moved one hand under her chin to tip her face up to look at him. “Daisy is hot as a two-dollar pistol, but she isn’t the woman I want.” His head drifted down, and his lips closed over hers in a sweet kiss she felt all the way to her toes. “I want Twyla, the beautiful, crazy cowgirl who has chased me since she was sixteen,” he whispered over her mouth.
Twyla sighed, as his words, the sincerity in his voice, melted the ice covering her heart. The robe slipped from her fingers, and her palms burned as she slid them up his chest to his shoulders to circle his neck. She tiptoed to press her lips to his, and Ryan lifted her against him. His mouth claimed hers again, and she leaned into him. Her heart met his, and she felt the strong, steady beat of his against her sternum, as the soft fur on his chest abraded her tender nipples.
She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, and Ryan moaned. His fingers dug into her ass, and his tongue traced the seam of her lips. Twyla opened her mouth, his tongue found hers and they danced. Her hips moved in time with their tongues, and his hardness dug into her hip. His heart skipped a few beats, and hers did too.
Needing him much closer, Twyla wrapped her calf around his thigh. She made small pleading circles with her hips. Ryan shifted his hips, and groaned when his thick erection slid between her legs. Twyla made long strokes with her body along his cock, craving to know what that thickness would feel like inside of her. Ryan groaned loudly, then breathing hard, he bent to grab the back of her thighs. He lifted her, then growled, “Put your legs around my waist.”
Twyla held onto his neck and wrapped her legs around him. Ryan looked down at her and smiled as he carried her swiftly to the breakfast nook. He sat down on the chair with her on his lap. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about having those long legs of yours wrapped around me, having you ride me like this.”
Ryan leaned over to grab his jeans. He shoved his hand into the pocket, and pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he rifled through it with trembling hands to pull out a foil wrapped packet. With his teeth he opened it, then a condom appeared between his fingers. His voice bristled with excitement and need, as he held it up to her and said, “Put it on me, and ride me to the barn, cowgirl.”
Twyla stared at the flesh-colored circle like it had fangs. Her eyes darted to his, then back to the condom pinched between his fingers. She tried to channel her inner Daisy, but the bitch had evidently run for the barn. And Ryan didn’t want her anyway. She gnawed her lower lip, and thought about lying, but she knew if she did it wrong there could be dire consequences for both of them. “Ryan, you need to know something.”
“Yeah?” he asked his hand dropping to his thigh, as his eyebrows slammed down over his concerned blue eyes.
“I haven’t ever done this before, don’t know how to put it on you.” Twyla notched her chin up an inch, waiting for his laughter or to see the disgust he had to be feeling to show itself. When his passion-glazed eyes just looked a little confused, she slid off of his lap and held out her hand. “I can do it, just tell me how.”
“You’ve never put a condom on a man?” he asked, then his eyes lit up, and his eyebrows raised. “Are you on birth control then?”
Twyla didn’t miss the hopefulness in his voice, or the message. He didn’t get that she’d never done this before. Had sex. It was going to take her bluntly telling him she was a virgin. All the blood in her body rushed to her face, as she stammered, “Between you and Zack, how the hell could I have ever had a chance to have sex? I didn’t need birth control.”
All the starch went out of his body, and Ryan slid down in the chair to rest his head on the back. “Twyla tell me that I’m not about to deflower you, as well as have sex with you. Your brother is going to kill me.”
“What Zack doesn’t know won’t kill you,” she said shortly. “But I will if you don’t put that damned condom on and have sex with me.”
Ryan opened his eyes, and studied her for a minute, then laughed. He sat up in the chair to position the latex ring at the thick head of his cock, before expertly rolling it down to the base.
“That’s what I lo—like about you Twy—you’re blunt. And come hell or high water, you’re gonna get what you want.” He looked up at her. “Even if it takes ten years.”
“And you are definitely a slow mover, Ryan Easter. Get the molasses out of your ass, and let’s go to the bedroom. You’ve got some catchi
ng up to do.”
CHAPTER TEN
“No ma’am—I’ve decided your first time is not going to be in the bedroom. I want you to remember it a hundred years from now. It’s going to be right here on this table, just like I planned. If Zack kills me, I’m going to make damned sure it’s worth it.”
Ryan stood, and shoved the chair aside then walked over to her. “But I definitely need another drink for this,” he said with a grin as he took her hand and tugged her back to the table. Grabbing her hips, he sat her there, then shoved her shoulder toward the table. “Lay back and relax, baby.” With a sigh, Twyla complied, folding her hands at her waist.
Twyla watched Ryan open the whiskey bottle and pour himself another drink. He sat the bottle on the floor, then nudged her knees apart to step between them. “Shove back a little,” he urged, and she scooted back until her feet were on the table top. He gripped her ankles to bend her legs, then spread her knees wide. Heat flooded her face when he stepped back and just studied her like she was a patient he was examining or something, while he sipped his drink with a contemplative look on his handsome face. “Scoot your ass closer to your heels,” he grumbled.
Twyla leaned up and did as he asked, but he still didn’t move on with things. He did smile, however, when she eased her back onto the table again with her hands at her sides. He stepped to the edge of the table and spread her heels even farther apart. Like a comet, his eyes zipped down her body, leaving a fiery trail behind, then he smiled that smile that twisted her insides, as his eyes fixed on her breasts.
“Mmm…that’s perfect. You’re perfect, Twy.” The heat zipped back up her body to her face, and she fought the urge to cover her breasts with her hands.
“I’m not perfect, Ryan,” she argued, trying to wake him up from his obvious trance. It had to be the alcohol, but he hadn’t drank much. The man must be seeing things, if he thought that. He was the only man on earth who did. But then he was the only one on earth who she cared what he thought about her.
Ignoring her comment, and what had to be her obvious discomfort, Ryan stepped forward, leaned over her to balance his shot glass about two inches under her navel. Heather always put it at the base of her ribcage, so a little would spill into her navel, but Ryan had put his lower. Her muscles contracted there, as the cold glass touched her skin. She thought about him licking her up to the glass, the amber liquid sloshed in the glass, and he frowned.
“No spilling, Twy, or there will be consequences.” His eyes met hers and his pupils were dilated almost as large as the blue irises. His breathing came in short spurts, and she could see his pulse pounding at the side of his throat. The look on his handsome face said he would relish delivering those unknown consequences. “By the time I’m done, I’ll really need that drink.”
A shiver worked itself up her body from her toes, and the glass wobbled again. She gasped and contracted her muscles to steady it. Agitation bristled through her. “Why don’t you just have the damned shot then, and get on with this?” That’s what she really wanted.
His hand clamped on her ankle, and he grinned. “Patience is a virtue, darlin’. Slow is not always a bad thing, and I’m about to teach you that, and a lot more.” His voice was heavy with anticipation, and his sensual threat was punctuated by his tongue making a slow trip around his hot lips. Her eyes followed it around and heat sizzled along her nerves to singe her at the apex of her thighs. Maybe this is why all those bunnies she saw leaving his trailer were smiling. They must have had the patience Ryan was talking about, and liked that Ryan was slow as a turtle in his lovemaking. Twyla wasn’t sold on it yet, but decided to try to find the patience he asked her to have. She huffed a breath then relaxed and uncurled her fists.
What the hell did she know about all this, anyway? She was green as grass at this, he knew what he was doing. Had done it many times. Too many.
“Get on with it, then,” she grumbled, settling her focus on keeping that shot glass steady on her lower abdomen. Ryan’s dark head appeared in her line of vision, and Twyla gasped.
His eyes met hers over the plane of her tummy, and were filled with mischief and purpose. His hot breath tickled her thighs when he warned, “Keep it still, Twyla. Remember, no spilling.”
He slid his hands behind her calves, and under her thighs to hold her hands at her sides. Turning his face, he planted a wet kiss on her inner thigh, before his mouth latched there and he sucked, while his tongue swirled on her skin. Fire zipped up to her core, and Twyla whimpered. The glass wobbled again and she knew then that she was in big trouble.
Twyla held her breath until the liquid settled, then breathed again when his mouth unglued from her skin. Her relief was short-lived though. His mouth landed again, this time closer to the crease where her thighs met her torso. Her most intimate part quivered, her fists clenched and she moaned. She sucked in a gulping breath to croak, “Gah, how am I supposed to stay still?”
Ryan’s chuckle vibrated along her folds, as he stopped there for a second, his hot breath just teasing her. “Goddamn you smell like heaven, sweetheart. I bet you taste like it too,” he said breathlessly, before she felt his hot tongue take a swipe over her.
Twyla’s body jerked and she tried to scoot upward, but his hands tightened over hers holding her prisoner. Cold liquid splashed onto her skin, reminding her of the shot glass. Her body tensed, and she whimpered, afraid to look to see how much she’d spilled. Twin trails leaked to the edge of her hipbones and pooled there. The feeling was a lot less than comfortable. Nothing about this was comfortable.
Ryan tsked a couple of times. “You’re wasting my whiskey, baby.”
His hand crept up to her hipbone, and he dipped a finger into the liquid. His hand slid under her thigh, and Twyla put her chin on her chest, planting her heels on the table to see what he was doing. His finger disappeared between her legs and she clenched her teeth to fight the tremor in her body, as she felt that finger trail over the nub at the top of her thighs, along her folds and downward to finally stop at her anus. His finger lingered there, and his eyes slid up to meet hers. He smiled that smile and a sharp shot of electricity zipped through her body, as he brushed her anus with his finger.
“No,” she pleaded weakly, bearing down, bracing, in case he was going to do what she thought he would do.
Her breathing became practically non-existent, as she waited to see what he’d do. If he did that, there was no way she would be able to keep that shot from spilling all over her. He grinned as he slid his finger upward again. Twyla breathed a sigh of relief, but that was short-lived. Ryan watched her face, as he slowly dipped his finger deep inside her body and swirled it.
Twyla moaned as her nails curled into her palms, and she sucked in a sharp breath, trying to focus on keeping still. Not spilling the whiskey that swirled in that shot glass. Ryan hit a spot inside her body that made her inner muscles spasm.
She fought her reaction with everything she had, but then Ryan added another finger to the mix, and the incredible stretching burn incited her muscles to clamp down. She gritted her teeth, fighting the tremor that started in her legs. Ryan stretched her even more by adding a third finger, and Twyla couldn’t stop her throaty moan, or the tremor that rocked her. After a moment Ryan set a slow and steady rhythm in and out of her body with his fingers, and of their own accord, her hips made small circles in time with his hand, her pleasure inching up with each thrust.
Her breathing became even shallower, as something delicious built inside of her. Twyla closed her eyes to reach for it, wanting it, needing it. She heard Ryan’s ragged breathing, and was glad she wasn’t the only one affected. Liquid splashed on her skin, trailing up her stomach to settle in her navel. Twyla’s body went rigid, as her eyes flew open. She saw the spilled liquid and groaned, her heart beating out of control in her chest. The shot glass was now three-quarters empty. “I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely, dragging her eyes to Ryan’s to gauge his reaction.
Ryan’s fingers stilled but he didn’t
remove them from her body. He shook his head solemnly. “I told you there would be consequences, Twyla,” his deep voice rumbled along her nerves, which were already at the point of snapping.
He reached for the shot glass, and downed what was left of the whiskey, before setting the glass beside her on the table. When he eased his fingers from her body, her muscles protested. Their game was evidently over, and Twyla was happy, because maybe that meant he’d get on with things now. But she was surprised to be a little disappointed too.
This was pretty damned exciting. Ryan Easter was exciting, unpredictable. He always had been, and Twyla thought that’s why she hadn’t been able to work this man out from under her skin for so long. But then he turned his back to her, she saw his beautiful rear end, one she’d studied fully clothed many times, and knew that wasn’t why. It was only part of the reason. The other was that this man was so damned delicious she hadn’t been able to even think about being with another man before him. After this, the bar would probably be set so high, no man would ever compare. With Ryan Easter as her first lover, she’d wait a long time to find someone who came within miles of him. Probably as long as she’d waited for this moment.
If that wasn’t a show of patience, she didn’t know what was.
Ryan bent, and when he raised back up he held the bottle of whiskey. Instead of refilling the glass, he unscrewed the cap and set it on the table by her hip. “Put your hands over your head and grab the top of the table, Twy,” he said gruffly. “Since you refuse to let me have my whiskey in a glass, I guess I’m going to have to figure out some other way to enjoy it.”
A thrill zipped along her spine, as she slowly raised her hands above her head to grip the edge of the table. His eyes narrowed and he waggled his brows, as he warned, “Don’t let go, no matter what. If you do, I’ll tie ‘em there.” His voice was soft and a little slurry, probably from the shots he’d already consumed. It was damned cute, as if he needed something to up his cute factor. This man was already lethally cute.
