Tough Talking Cowboy

by Jennifer Ryan

  And she felt it.

  A wave of need swept through her.

  She placed her hand on his face over his scars, managed to slide up his body under his tight hold as she went on tiptoe, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. One wasn’t enough. She did it again. And one more time.

  Her heart pounded against his and she settled into him.

  His heated gaze remained locked on hers. “That’s sweet, Adria, but I think someone who’s bold enough to propose sex with no strings and says she’s willing to do anything to prove I’m not broken would kiss me like she means it.”

  Adria accepted the challenge she needed to get past her nerves with a smile that made his eyes widen. She pressed her lips to his again, swept her tongue along his bottom lip, then dived in and stroked her tongue along his.

  His arms tightened around her and a deep groan rumbled his chest against hers.

  Her whole body instinctively stilled, unsure what came next. Her past came back in a wave of fear that made her tremble.

  Drake slid his hand up her neck to the back of her head, broke the kiss, and stared into her eyes. “You say stop, I let you go.” He didn’t mean it as a threat, but deep down she took it that way, because she needed him to hold on to her.

  “Don’t let go. Please.”

  His eyes darkened with possession, his arms contracted, and he kissed her like his next breath depended on it.

  She gave herself over to him and the overwhelming sensations rippling through her. She stopped thinking about what she was doing, how she kissed him, what it meant or didn’t mean, and her insecurities that maybe she wasn’t enough and let her body do what it naturally wanted to do.

  She rocked her hips into his. One big hand slid down her spine. He palmed her ass and pressed her closer.

  She expected to feel his hard length or at least his swelling flesh rise between them. Undeterred by his lack of response in that area, she latched on to the fact the rest of him seemed willing and able and desperate for more of her. So she slid her hand down his hard chest, flat, rippled abs, and over his fly to his flaccid but thick cock. He pressed into her palm and she stroked him.

  He kissed his way down her neck, then let out a breath. “More.”

  She squeezed him in her palm and rubbed her fingers along the length of him, hoping the different sensations would help him rise to the occasion. She took her time, stroking and rubbing, not worried in the least, hoping, given time to settle in, he’d get out of his head and respond.

  While she tempted him, he cupped her breasts in his palms and swept his thumbs over her hard nipples. The sensation set off fireworks of tingles through her breasts and made them grow heavy in his big hands. She stroked him again and again with one hand and slipped the other up under his shirt and along his side, her fingers sliding over his warm skin.

  He pushed her away and raked both hands over his head and held it between his palms, his breaths coming in uneven pants. “It’s not working.” Frustration and shame lit his gray-blue eyes when he dropped his hands and stared at her, then looked away.

  “We just got started.”

  “I knew this was a bad idea. It’s not going to work.”

  She stepped close and put her hand on his chest and felt his thrashing heart pounding against her palm. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He put his hand over hers and pressed it harder against his chest. “No. It’s not you. It’s me.”

  It was hard for her to ask because it reminded her of that despicable man. His voice rang in her head. It’s not bad. You’re so beautiful. You want to make me feel good, don’t you?

  NO!

  But she did want to make Drake feel as good as he made her feel. This wasn’t her past but a chance to turn her twisted thoughts and memories into something that was real and meaningful and intimate in a way that was mutual, not self-serving and vile.

  Drake read something in her, cupped her face, and made her look at him. “You make me feel so good. All I want to do is be able to show you that, but the longer it takes, the more I fear it won’t happen, and I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  She hooked her hands on his wrists as he held her face and gently brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. The soft caress made her want to rub her face into his warm hands so he wouldn’t stop.

  “I’m only disappointed you stopped touching me. I’m disappointed you won’t let me keep touching you.”

  “I want you to, it’s just . . . I can’t make it work. And I want it to because I want to be deep inside you.” He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye. “My fucking head is all messed up. I want to just be with you, but the thoughts are going round and round in my mind.”

  She didn’t know how to quiet them. She wanted him focused on her, not . . . Inspiration struck. “I think I know what to do.”

  Skepticism darkened his eyes.

  “This is going to take a level of trust for both of us that we normally resist. But I’m willing to try if you are.”

  He reluctantly nodded.

  She stepped back and took his hand. She tugged to get him to follow her the few steps to the sofa. “Sit.”

  He eyed her but reluctantly took a seat and stared up at her.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  “Adria.”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips. “You’re reluctant. I’m nervous. But I think I can give you what you need and you can give me what I want. Just give me a sec and I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Drake kissed her fingers and nodded without a word.

  She rushed into her bedroom and stopped in front of the dresser. You can do this. Because if she gave up now, she feared neither of them would try again for a long time.

  She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head. She tossed it on the dresser, unhooked her bra, pulled it down her arms, and laid it on top of her shirt. She didn’t meet her image in the mirror, afraid she’d chicken out.

  She undid the button on her jeans, slid the zipper down, leaned over, and removed her boots and socks, then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans and panties and pushed them down her legs and kicked them off. Naked, nervous, but her mind set, she went to the bedside table and peeled off one of the condoms from the roll her sister had stuffed in her bag as a dare.

  If he can try, I can, too.

  She hid the foil packet in her hand, took a deep breath, and reminded herself that this was a chance to be with a man who understood in some way what this meant to her. Like him, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life without having a satisfying physical relationship.

  I want to feel the way other women feel in a man’s arms.

  She took another deep breath to calm her nerves.

  I can do this. With Drake.

  Because it was him, she believed that.

  She walked back into the living room, if not confident, then determined.

  Drake turned to her. His eyes widened the second he saw her walking toward him, not a stitch of clothing on.

  She didn’t say a word when she closed the distance, stood between his widespread feet with her back to him, sat on his lap, settled back into his chest, discreetly dropped the condom beside his thigh, took one of his hands and pulled it across her body and placed it on her hip. She took the other and pulled it up her chest and settled it on her neck. She pressed her cheek to his and softly spoke her wishes. “Let’s start where we began. While you slept, you wanted a willing woman in your arms.” His hands contracted on her skin. “Here I am, Drake. Right here, right now, I’m yours. Touch me.”

  Body stiff, she jumped when he hugged her close and whispered in her ear, “Put your feet on the table.” He pulled the coffee table closer with his booted feet.

  She put both feet on the table and settled into him and his warmth and strength wrapped around her.

  His lips brushed her cheek in a soft caress. “I’m a military man. I understand orders. You say go. You say stop. I’m at y
our command.”

  And just like that, she relaxed into him. And he didn’t move his hands one inch. She sucked in a breath and let it out, loosening the last of her apprehension. “Go.”

  She expected him to move his hands and reach for whatever tempted him first, but he didn’t loosen his hold or move a single finger. He raised his shoulder so she’d turn her head toward him and kissed her. Long and deep, it spun out for several seconds. She lost herself in the taste of him, the sweep of his tongue, the soft groan he couldn’t contain. Only then did he brush his fingers from her throat down to her breast. His big, warm hand covered and molded it to his palm.

  This is where she normally got nervous and unraveled. But with Drake, she melted and arched her back, pressing her breast into his hand, wanting—no needing—more.

  Drake kissed her one last time. He wanted to look at her draped down his body, naked and beautiful. All that creamy white skin. An unexpected vine and roses tattoo twining from her shoulder down her arm. Her hands rested on her thighs, on either side of the blond triangle that pointed him to heaven.

  He hadn’t missed the embarrassment or timid way she walked out of the room, trying to be so confident and take charge so she could prove to him he wasn’t broken. To prove to herself what happened to her as a child didn’t taint what she wanted from him now.

  He couldn’t allow himself to think about what happened to her, because it made him want to rage, and all he wanted to do right now was make her forget. He wanted to show her that not all men used and hurt women.

  He could find the last shreds of kindness inside him, pull them together, and give her an experience that was just for her.

  He’d promised to get her off, but what he really wanted to do was show her that it was okay to enjoy sex. With a prostitute for a mother, he imagined she thought sex was some dirty deed.

  She’d been used. Maybe he was using her to see if his problem was all in his head. God, he hoped so. And judging by the need gnawing at him and the heat building inside him, maybe she was right about that. But his need to use her also sparked a deep, primal necessity to please her.

  He wanted to hear her moan his name and lose herself in all the pleasure he could give her, even if he couldn’t complete the act himself.

  And so he set his mind to what she wanted, what made her lose herself in his touch, and what made her lose control.

  She liked kissing him, but he wanted her free to feel every touch, every sensation.

  He swept his other hand up her belly to her other breast. He squeezed both in his hands and plucked both of her hard nipples, tugging softly, eliciting a sweet moan from her lips.

  Her body moved against his as she arched and sought more of his touch.

  He shifted beneath her, positioning his dick along the seam of her soft rump. She rocked her hips back into him and for a second he felt something stir, but dismissed it and refocused on her.

  She rubbed her hands down the sides of his thighs and back up and over his arms and up to cover his hands at her breasts.

  He brushed his lips against her ear. “You like that?”

  “Your hands are so big.”

  He swept them down her body, the tops of her thighs, and back up to her stomach. “You are so soft.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair, cupped one breast in his hand, and sent the other down her belly. He swept his fingers over her mound and dipped them low. He started slow and easy, brushing one finger between her soft folds, stoking the fire.

  She kept her feet plastered to the table, her knees bent and only a few inches apart. He wanted her to relax and fall apart in his arms.

  It didn’t take long for his efforts to be rewarded with her sweet sighs. With each stroke and dip of his finger into her wet core, she lost herself in the rhythm and found a way to drive him to the heights of need. She not only rocked into his hand between her legs but planted her hands on his hips and rubbed her rump against his hardening cock. It was like a lap dance where you got to touch the woman. And God, he liked touching her and feeling her move against him.

  He sank one finger deep, then slid it out and softly rubbed it over her sweet little nub in gentle strokes that made her writhe.

  “Drake.”

  “I’m right here with you. I won’t let you go.” He nuzzled his face against her head, squeezed her breast, and sank two fingers deep inside her. Her knees fell apart as her hips rocked forward, then back as he pulled free. Her ass rubbed his thick cock and he nearly lost it, but he held back and waited her out because she was close. She just needed to let herself ride the tide of pleasure. So he sank two fingers deep, rubbed his aching erection against her ass, and whispered in her ear, “You feel so damn good.” He thrust his fingers deep again and rubbed his palm against her mound, creating the friction she needed against her clit, and she shattered in his arms. Her body gripped his fingers tight and contracted around them. With his hand over her breast, her heart thrashed against his palm.

  He held her, his own body throbbing with the need for release. As much as he reveled in the fact he wasn’t permanently out of commission, it thrilled him even more that he’d pleased Adria.

  Something in him shifted with the thought that she’d been able to let down her walls, trust in him, and just let herself enjoy the moment free of any outside or inner apprehensions.

  He slid his hand up her belly and wrapped both his arms around her and hugged her close. “That was amazing.” He meant it.

  He’d always wanted his partner to get as much as he got out of a sexual encounter, but this was another level. Maybe because he got that she needed his help in her own space and time to find what she needed. Because he needed that, too. In pleasuring her, he’d had the freedom and time he needed to let his body do what he wanted it to do without him thinking and focusing solely on whether or not it did.

  Adria slowly sat up on his lap, glanced over her shoulder, and held up a condom. “We’re not done yet.”

  “Are you sure?” He didn’t want to push.

  She rubbed her ass against him again. “I want you to feel as good as you made me feel.”

  “I was right there with you.” He wanted her to know that he’d gotten just as much out of it as she did.

  She stood, turned to him, set the condom on his stomach, and went after his button and zipper. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs.

  He grabbed her hands and stilled them.

  Her questioning gaze met his.

  “My hip . . . It’s kind of messed up.”

  She leaned in and kissed him softly. With her face an inch from his and eyes locked on him she said, “It doesn’t matter to me.” She tugged down his clothes and freed his not-so-hard dick. Without hesitation, she wrapped her hand around him and stroked from base to tip and back down. His flesh jumped and hardened at her sweet touch. He laid his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed, thankful his body responded the way he wanted. He glanced at her to see if the scars and burns bothered her. He held perfectly still when she traced her fingers over them in a soft caress while her other hand clamped around his dick and stroked him up and down.

  She didn’t stop touching him. In fact, she took her time, looking her fill, sweeping her hands over him to see how he responded. So he let go of his worries that he repulsed her and focused on the feel of her hands on him. His eyes closed again, then flew open when her tongue licked the head of his dick and her lips closed over him. She sank to her knees and sucked him deep into her mouth, then back up. Timid at first, she found what worked for her and him, because the second he groaned when he liked something, she did it again. He felt the rising tide of pleasure rush through him, but he wanted to be buried deep inside her when he came.

  He tore open the condom, brushed his fingers through her hair to get her to release him, rolled the condom on, hooked his hands under her arms, dragged her up his body, and took her mouth in a deep kiss as she settled on his lap again. With her knees straddling his hips, she took him in
to her hot, wet core in a slow slide of her body over his until he was locked deep inside her. And then she moved and he followed, their bodies rocking and him thrusting in and out of her.

  He broke the kiss to take one of her sweet, hard nipples in his mouth. She slid her fingers through his hair and held him close. He rubbed his hands over her hips to her ass and squeezed, pushing her down on him and grinding his hips against hers. She sighed and rocked against him, her body contracting around his. He thrust harder and deeper, his tongue sweeping over her breast until he had to let her go and let loose the moan deep in his throat as she set his body on fire.

  He tried to hold back and make it last.

  With her hands on his shoulders, she leaned close, slid her hand over his head, and whispered in his ear, “Go.” The same order she gave him to start.

  He thrust deep once, twice, and let himself go. And she went with him, amplifying his orgasm until he was spent and panting out his breaths like he’d run a sprint.

  He still had her ass gripped in both hands. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, face in his neck. She breathed as hard as him and didn’t seem inclined to leave him anytime soon. Not that she could with him holding her locked down on his lap.

  He liked the feel of her against him, surrounding him.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  His hip ached, but the pain got lost in the background, because all he could think about was how good it felt to make love to a woman again. Not just any woman, but this amazing one, who took her time, didn’t flinch at the sight of him, or hesitate to show just how into him and what they were doing she was, all while doing her best to figure out what he liked and how to move with him. The second he flinched when she pushed down too hard on his left side, she shifted her weight. When she reached back and grabbed his thigh to support herself and pressed too hard on his old bullet wound and he pulled her back forward, she rubbed her hand over the spot to soothe the momentary pain, then went right back to riding him. His injuries didn’t make her give up. She found a better way.

  He hated to think about the past and Melanie in this moment, but he did and settled why they would have never worked for the long haul. Melanie didn’t know how to stick it out and find a better way. She gave up. She saw the scars and wounds and his limitations and didn’t look past them to find all the things that he could still do. She didn’t see his strengths and that he was still a man who needed the comfort and joy of being with a woman.