by L. B. Dunbar
“Ride me,” he says, and I’m triggered. For the briefest of moments, Rusty enters my head. Drunk. Lazy. Telling me to ride him so he doesn’t have to put forth any effort.
“Condom,” I whisper, my voice choked. Garrett sits upright, fingers curling my hair over my ear. His eyes search mine in the dark room, pinching as he stares.
“It’s only us in here, okay? Only us.”
“Only us,” I repeat. I lean forward to kiss him quickly, but Garrett opens immediately and finds my tongue. He tastes like me, salt and musk, and I suck at him in return. When he draws back, he peers up at me again.
“Take me.” The change in command makes me feel better. “Do with me what you would have done.” I press at his shoulders until he’s flat on his back.
“Condom,” I repeat, and he rolls his head to the nightstand. We can discuss later how he already had one ready. In spite of myself, I smile as the package I find holds three. Reaching for the foil, I open it and sheath him.
“Fuck,” he growls as his fingers dig into my thighs. Linking my fingers with his, I pull them over his head.
Let me be in control, I command without words, pressing at his hands, silently emphasizing I want them to remain on the pillow. As I sit up, Garrett does one better and reaches for the bottom edge of the headboard. His body is stretched, lean, and muscular, and my fingers tickle down his abs. They flinch, and I wonder if he’s ticklish.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispers, but my answer won’t come with words. I stroke up his covered shaft once, and then position myself at the tip. Slipping down, I cause him to quickly impale me, and we grunt in unison at the connection. His fingers fist on the board behind his head. Mine find his hips as I use his body to leverage myself up and down.
We easily slip and slide as I’m so wet from his mouth. The pace I set takes us fast, and I race for the finish line. Garrett’s eyes focus on my breasts, jiggling and thumping at my chest. Sitting upright, I roll my hips, finding friction for my clit on his pelvis bone. My hands move up my body and cup my breasts. I squeeze myself, pinching my nipples.
“You are a fucking goddess,” he sputters between breaths, and I rock faster. Keeping him deep, I feel him tap inside at a place I didn’t know existed.
“Garrett,” I call out, my voice hitching.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, lifting his head to look at where we join. My fingers drop, and I instantly find what I need. I hold him in me while I work the sensitive hood. I free-fall instantly. My channel clenches as I still, and then I feel the rush of him inside me, pulsing, beating, releasing. Briefly, I wonder what it would feel like if he wasn’t covered.
I’m about to collapse when he releases the headboard and sits up again, his mouth crushing mine. One arm wraps around my back. His fingers slip into my hair, holding the back of my head. Aftershocks ripple through my body, and I tremble over him as his mouth tugs and pecks at mine. He slows the kiss in an attempt to lower our rapidly beating hearts.
Too late, I think.
Take my heart, Tin Man. It already belongs to you.
18
A tour of the heart
[Garrett]
Together, we collapse back to the mattress still holding on to each other. Her legs remain wrapped around my hips. My arm still encircles her back. We lie in silence, waiting for our breathing to regulate before I slip out of her. She whimpers at the release, and I want to promise her I’d stay inside forever if she asks.
Ask the Wizard for anything, Dolores. I’ll make it happen if I can.
I slip from bed to dispose of the condom, get a washcloth, and return to wipe her clean. She stares at me, noting the attention I take before dropping the cloth on the floor and slipping next to her again.
“That was sweet.” I don’t even want to know what she means. I don’t want to think of another man not offering her aftercare. I don’t want to think of anyone with her again.
My fingers comb through her hair at the side of her head. She’s so beautiful in the dim light seeping through the slim edge of the curtains. Her eyes gleam.
“You’re kind of incredible,” she says, a smile on her lips.
“I knew you’d come around,” I tease, and she swats at my chest. I catch her wrist and lift her hand, kissing her open palm. “Actually, I can think of a better word. Insatiable.”
There’s no way one time with her will be enough. Here’s the part that sucks about being fifty, though. I need a moment before I can get it up again. I could have brought some little blue pills, but somehow, with Dolores, I don’t think I’ll need them.
“We’re going to need to do that again,” I say into her palm.
“I’m exhausted.” She giggles, a genuine laugh of contentment. I like the sound from her.
“Okay,” I singsong. “I’ll give you twenty minutes.”
She giggles again and leans forward for my lips. She thinks I’m joking, but after twenty minutes of soft pecks, which turn to heady, open-mouthed tongue-included kisses, I’m ready again. I slip over her and prepare to slide home, when she mutters, “Condom.”
Right. I never usually forget them. Never. But something about Dolores makes me forget myself. When I was young, I was stupid and went bare with my high school sweetheart. It was the eighties; what can I say? But once I moved West, I’ve always been wrapped. Kate insisted on it, and painfully, I learned why. She already had kids. I shiver but quickly shake the thought.
I cover myself this time and easily slip inside. We’re slower this round. Our hips roll in a lazy dance. Our mouths remain connected. My thoughts race to her sitting over me, holding me inside her warmth, as she cups her breasts. I meant what I said—she’s a fucking goddess.
I pull back and peer down at her. Our hands explore, roaming over chests and breasts, down arms, and gripping hips. Eventually, I can’t take the slower pace. Dolores wraps her legs over my lower back, and my hand slips under her firm ass. I squeeze as I lift, pummeling into her.
“Get there,” I mutter, but Dolores shakes her head.
“Come,” she commands, and I still. My dick jolts and jumps, jetting off inside the snug condom. Still, I feel her clench around me, holding me deep. My head falls to her shoulder.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I couldn’t last.” Because she’s fucking stunning.
“I’m not sorry.” She chuckles, jiggling us both. I reach between us, still in her, and touch her swollen, sweet clit. Her eyes drift back, and her lids close. She lets me play with her folds until she whimpers out another orgasm.
Four for her. Two for me. Not bad, old sport.
I lilt sideways, tugging at her to follow me. We face one another, breathing in the scent of sex and us. Us. Like what I told her. There’s only us in this room.
I thought she’d eventually mention what I told her earlier, how I proposed to someone else in this very resort, but she hasn’t. Not surprisingly, I’m relieved. It’s history.
“You’re quiet,” she mutters, her voice drowsy.
“Deep in thought.”
“That would make you the Scarecrow,” she snorts.
“He didn’t have a brain.”
“Right.” She chuckles, drawing circles on my chest with one finger. “I don’t think you’re really the Tin Man, either.”
“Perhaps I am a Wizard, after all,” I joke.
“Perhaps.” She sighs. Actually, I’m more cowardly Lion because I want to tell her how I feel but won’t. I’m afraid to share my thoughts and my heart. Dolores already holds them both, but when she goes home, she’ll take them with her, and I can’t handle that pain again.
+ + +
The next morning, the questions arrive as we have breakfast on a balcony overlooking the vineyard.
“You brought me to a place where you proposed to someone.” She isn’t judging me but questioning the rationale.
“I told you last night. I want to scope out the place for ideas.”
She nods, not convinced. I hold her hand on the ta
ble, lazily stroking my thumb over the back of her knuckles. I can’t seem to let her go. We had sex again this morning. Morning wood. Hard and fast, we lay on our sides with her back to my chest. A man could get used to waking up to that every day.
“So when do we begin?”
As if on cue, Sofie enters the balcony. She’s a medical doctor in the valley, but her grandparents own this place. I learned after my attempt to purchase it that the vineyard is near and dear to her heart, and she wanted to keep it for her retirement. She’s only twentysomething, so she has a long time to go, but the comment sparked the thought for myself. What would I do next? When I grow tired of the hustle of other people’s companies, what would I have for me?
Like Dolores mentioned, I already have Fox Investors, but I’ve always been someone who wanted more. More money. More business. More anything. When I look over at Dolores speaking with Sofie, I realize the more I may be missing doesn’t come with a price tag. The more I might be searching for may be something money cannot buy.
Huh.
Sofie explains our tour guide will be Raphael, a sixty-nine-year-old man, who clearly has the hots for Dolores. If he doesn’t stop flirting with her, I’m going to be charged with harming an elder. She giggles and teases him in return, which only encourages him. It’s a lesson in her management skills—she’s good with people. She told me her diner caters to all the locals. Old men on Saturday mornings. Ladies playing Bunco on Tuesday evenings. Her Thursday night special of chicken salad. Dolores has an easy way about her. Being so secluded at her brother’s place, I haven’t seen her interact much with others. It’s fascinating to watch her until there are one too many winks from Raphael.
“Time for the vineyard,” I snap. We toured the winery, but a golf cart ride through the vines is another part of our day. Raphael offers to drive, allowing Dolores to sit next to him, but I object.
“I’ll drive. You direct.” Raphael sits next to me, and Dolores sits behind us. With his attention better focused, I begin to have my questions answered. The time it takes for a vine to produce. Conditions. Weather. Land. It’s all stuff I’ve researched, and many days it makes me miss my granddad as he’d understand it all better than I do.
We stop in the center of the vineyard where a small table is set up with wine samples. Dolores gushes over each taste while Raphael explains how to twirl a glass, then sniff and sip. She flushes by the time we finish, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright. I want to make love to her with this look on her face.
When we return to the main resort, we find Wally, who’s been hanging out in a barn. The inn doesn’t allow animals inside the hotel but has a pen of sorts in a heated room in one of the outbuildings. Wally looks like he’s been pampered, but he jumps to his feet when he hears Dolores’s voice.
“Where’s my spoiled Wally?” she coos, and his tail thumps. His heart belongs to her like mine. We decide to walk back through the vines, Wally racing up the path as we discuss what we’ve learned. Dolores loops her arm with mine, occasionally resting her head on my shoulder.
I’m not certain how long we walk before we discover a river and a small sandy beach area. Dolores and I stop, and she stares at the streaming water.
“This reminds me of home,” she says, her arms crossing over her middle.
“You don’t talk much about it.” I throw a twig for Wally, but he doesn’t chase it. Instead, he collapses by a tree, panting from the long walk.
“There isn’t much to tell. Blue Ridge is a small town. My father was the mayor, but he was a terrible human being.”
Holy crap. I didn’t know her family was in politics. Her brother mentioned how he didn’t get along with his dad, who died sometime while he was on the road being a rock star.
“The town supported him because that’s what small towns do. He held a position of power, but people didn’t respect him. He cheated on my mother. He beat Denton.”
Fuck. “Did he ever touch you?”
“Not with his fist.”
“People suck,” I mutter. My father left us when my little sister was born. The only father figure I had was Granddad, but I wouldn’t trade him for the world.
“We lived on the Lane. Mountain Spring Lane. A dead-end strip of gravel road with three exclusive homes. Daddy wanted to be part of the history of Blue Ridge, although the Harringtons and the Conrads on either side of our house were old families. Original settlers or something like that.” She sighs. “Anyway, a river edged our properties. The water was cold.” She chuckles, still lost in her memories.
“Do you miss it?” I hold my breath as I ask.
“I miss the diner and some of the people. It’s the only place I’ve ever known, so in my heart, I miss the familiarity. But I don’t miss the lonely memories I have of my parents.” Her head rolls, and she looks at me. I love when she stares into my eyes because it’s as if she’s giving me her soul. I reach for her hand and tug her down next to me. She lands with a thump on the ground.
“Ow.” She blends the interjection with her laughter. Reaching around her back, I nudge her to scoot between my legs. With my chin on her shoulder, I watch the water flow in the river.
“Thinking of going home?” I question. Again, my breath hitches. I don’t think I’ll like her answer. She twists in my arms, looking at me over one shoulder.
“Not yet. Why? Do you want me to leave?”
I answer her with a slow kiss. My hands cover her flushed cheeks, drawing her lower lip between mine. I sip the swollen skin before releasing her and pressing my forehead to hers. “I don’t think I want you to ever go.”
The truth weighs heavy on my chest, and the words fill the slim space between us. Her answer comes in the form of a similar kiss. Sweet. Lasting. Longing. Her tongue sweeps mine, and that’s all it takes. I have her on her back, desperate to connect with her for fear she’s going to leave too soon. Fingers slip into her hair as my legs come between hers, forcing her to open for me. I press upward, my dick straining to enter her. Our clothing provides too much of a barrier.
“Why do I want you so much?” I mutter between kisses down her jaw to her neck. My hips rock, forcing the stiff ridge behind my zipper to slide over the seam of her leggings. “I want you right now.”
“Here?” she chokes, her head rolling to look at Wally. He’s sleeping, the lazy beast. He won’t see a thing.
“Right here,” I say, sitting up and tugging off my light jacket. It’s in the sixties but warmer in the sunshine. My body temperature escalates to a hundred. I’m hot for her. Lifting her hips, I slip my jacket under her backside and tug her leggings below her knees—just enough so she can spread for me. She sits up; her fingers work at my belt and my zipper, releasing me from my jeans within seconds. Our mouths crash again.
“Condom,” she groans as I lay her back.
Fuck. I growl. I pat my back pockets and then search the inside of my jacket spread under her. Thank fuck for secret pockets. I roll the rubber to cover me and slip into her without any foreplay. Once I’m seated to the hilt, Dolores moans, rolling her hips under me to meet me thrust for thrust.
Don’t leave. I tap into her. Stay with me.
Her hands slip into my jeans, which are just below my hips, and hold my ass.
“Harder,” she mutters. “Faster.”
This woman is a dream come true. I pick up the pace, pressing up on one elbow to slip my fingers between us. I’m not releasing without her coming on my dick. I flick the nub, and she denotates quickly, digging her fingers into the globes of my ass, forcing me to remain deep inside her.
Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart, I think as I follow her. I’m not sure the condom can hold all my seed. I’m coming and coming and coming, continuing to thrust into her as I imagine what it would feel like to be bare and free within her.
“Garrett.” Her voice hitches, hinting at another building orgasm.
“Fuck yes, sweetheart,” I growl, circling harder at her clit as I remain inside her. Her head l
ifts off the ground, and her nails scrape across my ass. She screams my name as she falls back and removes her grip on my backside. Her arms fall to the sides, fisting in the material of my jacket as a second orgasm flows out of her.
My God, I love her. The thought races to my heart, expanding the organ inside my chest. I can’t breathe, but then I look down at her, satiated and pleased. She smiles up at me, a sheepish look in her eyes, and my heart beats a new rhythm.
Don’t leave me.
She giggles as a hand comes to her forehead.
“What?”
“I’ve never done anything like that,” she admits, turning her head to Wally who hasn’t moved from his nap.
“Well, I’m happy it was with me, then,” I tease.
She shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable.” She grins with mocked disappointment.
“Yeah, but you love me.”
The comment freezes us both. Why would I say that? It’s just a figure of speech, but her eyes fix on mine, and I don’t want her to respond. I don’t want her to say anything, and to my relief, she doesn’t. We just stare at one another. Then I pull back and right her pants. I don’t have any way to clean her up, but I’m more concerned I just dirtied everything with my smartass comment.
19
It’s in his kiss
[Dolores]
Do I love him? How could I be in love with him? I shouldn’t love him. That would be dangerous. We hardly know one another. First of all, he’s Garrett Fox. He owns Fox Investors, which sounds important and influential. I’m Dolores Chance, diner owner in a small town located literally across the country. Which brings me to reason number two. We don’t live anywhere near one another. But neither money nor distance can change my heart.
I won’t tell him how I feel, though. I’ve learned my lesson well over the years. He seems just as surprised as me that he said such a thing. His eyes tell me not to reply to his off-the-cuff comment. Don’t ruin the moment and tell him the truth. Don’t destroy the moment and lie. Just let it be. So I do.
