by Cathryn Cade
As her mind continued to spiral, she felt his big, warm hands settle, one on her hip and the other cupping the side of her throat under her hair. "I'm glad you're here, RaeAnn,” he told her. “Real glad."
"Me too," she breathed, melting against him when he kissed her again.
Without breaking the kiss, Mac walked her slowly backward, his big hand sliding down to cup her ass and squeeze. "So," he asked, breathing hard as he lifted his head. "Do you have to pee, or not? Here's the bathroom."
"No," she said breathlessly, pushing him onward and then letting out a squeak as she bumped into a wall. "Do you?"
"Only thing I need is to get you in my bed," he muttered. “Before one of us breaks our neck. Whoa, watch the door."
His hand scraped over the wall, and an overhead light winked on in the hallway. "This way," he said, pulling her into a dark doorway. "Watch your step in here—haven’t had time to do laundry."
Guided by the filtered light from the hallway, they made it across a floor strewn with clothing, and he pulled her down onto a bed. He turned and sat so Rae ended up straddling his lap. She clutched his shoulders, and he fumbled for the hem of her top. "You've got way too many clothes on, gorgeous. How does this—can you…?"
"I'll do it," she said, letting go of him to unfasten the hidden ties at her waist and pull the top up and over her head. But then she hesitated. She’d undressed in front of a guy before, but she wasn’t exactly carefree about it.
What would Mac think of her without her top—and especially without her bra?
“Shy?” Mac asked, a smile in his voice. “Don’t be, gorgeous. Here, I’ll go first.” He pulled open his shirt with one rat-tat-tat of western snaps, and his thighs rolled under her as he yanked the shirt back and off.
"That's better," he said. “Now I can show you some real muscle.”
He flexed his arms, his biceps bulging, then puffed out his chest. “Yeah? This doin’ it for you? Ready to get your hands on this?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, giggling.
Grinning, he shook a finger at her. “Nuh-uh. Not till you ditch that top. We’re keeping this fair.”
His joking unlocked the last of her self-consciousness. Feeling wicked and free, Rae pulled her top open and back off her shoulders, then let go of it and her little crossbody bag. Both fell away to the floor behind her, which for some reason was also funny.
Mac gave a rumbling sound of appreciation, his hands hot and calloused on her bare waist above her jeans. “Oh, yeah. But you got one more. Take that bra off, baby, 'cause I been waitin' all night to see your lush tits."
Taking her bra off for him was the bravest thing she'd done in a long time. She unclasped it slowly, hesitated, then lowered the straps one by one, finally letting the bra fall away.
He ate her up with his gaze, his big hands smoothing up the tender skin over her ribs. Then he leaned in and kissed her again, murmuring soothing words of praise against her lips as he cupped her bare breasts in his hands.
Rae shivered with pleasure at his touch on her there.
"Oh, baby, these are so sweet. Nice and round, the way I like 'em." He squeezed gently, thumbed her taut nipples, and RaeAnn whimpered into his mouth at the shock of pleasure his knowing touch produced.
"Yeah, you like that, don'tcha?" He did it again and then pinched them between his thumbs and forefingers, working the firm nubs as he kissed her deeply, devouring her mouth.
Rae not only liked it—she loved it. But conversely, the sharp pleasure made her crave more. She wriggled closer to him until her aching, needy center was over his.
Finding the hard ridge of his arousal under his jeans, she rode it shamelessly, whimpering as the sensation combined with that of his rough fingers pinching her nipples, creating the most delicious pleasure tightening deep in her core.
"Fuck, gorgeous, you are hotter than cinnamon whiskey." He grabbed her bottom and pulled her tighter against him. "Need to get my hands and my mouth on your sweet pussy. You wet for me?"
As he spoke, he rolled them so she was underneath him, on her back in his bed. A comforter was soft and cool under her bare skin, but she was burning up inside. She needed his hands and his mouth again.
Thus, when he unzipped her jeans and yanked them open, she helped him, lifting her bottom and wriggling to be free of the snug denim and her panties.
He pulled both down her legs, and she kicked them off, then gave a strangled moan of shock and embarrassment as he lifted her panties to his face and inhaled deeply.
"Oh, yeah, knew it," he moaned. "Sweet and musky—all girl."
He tossed her panties away and unfastened his jeans, looking down at her. "You gonna let me have a taste?" he asked.
RaeAnn was watching him greedily, wishing she could see more of him than a taut, muscular silhouette against the weak light from the hallway.
But his words jerked her out of her reverie. "Wait, what? Um... I don't know."
He planted his knees and both hands on the bed and bent over her. "What?" he demanded, amusement rich in his rough voice. "You never had a guy go down on you? Baby, I guarantee, when I do it, you'll love it."
Since he was crawling closer, and wrapping his hands around her bare legs, his fingers caressing the tender skin behind her knees as he spoke, and all she could manage was to breathe his name again. "Mac..."
"Rae," he replied teasingly, looming over her in the darkness. He leaned down to kiss her mouth, one hand cupping her breast, and twirled her nipple expertly as he kissed her, a teasing dance of his lips and tongue against hers.
She reached up to pull him down to her, instinctively parting her legs to let him settle between them. At the brush of his hot, hard body against hers, she made a noise of inarticulate pleasure, her hands learning the warm, satin of his skin and the hard slope and bulge of his shoulders.
He kneed her legs farther apart and smoothed his hand down from her breast, over the slope of her ribs and the hollow of her belly, to her mons. When he cupped her there, Rae whimpered into his mouth and clutched at him.
"Fuck," he groaned approvingly as he stroked his fingertips through the damp curls on her mons to the sleek flesh below. "You're dripping for me, baby. Gotta have a taste. You're gonna go off like a little rocket when I get my tongue on you here."
Since he found her clit and stroked it with his thumb as he spoke, she was too busy shivering with pleasure to argue. No guy had ever talked like this to her, so hot and blue. She liked it nearly as much as she loved his knowing touch.
He chuckled and paused to nuzzle her breasts on his way down, giving one nipple a swift suck as he shouldered his way between her parted thighs. "Settle back and enjoy, baby. I give great head."
Well, that was conceited. How many girls had he been with, anyway?
But then he nuzzled her mons, the infinitely soft caress of his tongue danced over her clit, and she forgot about everything but his mouth on her there and the finger he thrust inside her. She flinched at this, but his mouth distracted her, and pleasure gathered tighter and tighter until it burst, and she spasmed in his grasp, sighing her pleasure to him.
"M-hmm," he approved. "Felt that. Now you wanna let go of my hair, so I can come on up there and give you the fuckin' we both want?"
Oh. She was embarrassed to discover she'd grasped his tousled hair with both hands, holding him to her in fear he would stop.
"Sorry," she mumbled, uncurling her fingers.
He laughed, leaning across her to grab a crinkly foil package from somewhere. "That's awright, just tells me you like what I'm doin'." He ripped the packet with his teeth and busied himself. She knew by the sounds he was rolling on a condom.
Excitement speared through her languor, and she dug her short nails into the comforter.
If having him inside her was as good as his mouth on her, she couldn't wait. Thus far, her orgasms had been at her own hand, or in her sleep after a particularly good dream. She had a feeling Mac could deliver even better.
E
specially if he fucked—even thinking the word felt daring—the way he danced.
And he did.
CHAPTER FIVE
Holy sweetness, she was so wet and tight. As Mac came down over his little blonde and positioned the tip of his cock in her opening, he already knew it was gonna be a mind-blowing experience. She'd been so tight around his finger, she was gonna squeeze his cock like a fist.
She liked his mouth, that was for sure. He was feeling smug as hell as he propped himself on an elbow, his chest pillowed on her sweet tits and pulled one of her legs up, inviting her to curve it around him. He loved the feel of a woman's heels digging into his ass while he fucked her, holding him tight and pulling him back in every time, straight to the bulls-eye.
'Course, he loved it anyway he could get him some, and this girl had been worth every minute of work to get her here, in his bed.
He pressed in, and thank Jesus and tequila, she did not whine or complain even though it was a tight squeeze. He was, according to women he'd been with, good-sized, but not huge. But she was so tight. Sweet RaeAnn didn't have much experience. If he hadn't already figured that from her unsureness, he'd know it now.
Finally, he was balls-deep in sweet hotness. And if he didn't think about something else, anything else, he was gonna cum like a rocket in about three strokes.
But she was clutching him with her heels on his ass, good girl, and her hands on his back, and the high, breathy sounds she was making told him she liked this as much or more as she'd liked him going down on her.
Some women liked one and tolerated the other to please a guy. God bless girls like this, for loving both.
Fuck, she might even like giving blow jobs, if he could talk her into it.
She started rocking under him, urging him to go faster, and he forgot about everything but sensation building inside him, sweet torment tightening and tightening until he put his head down beside hers and fucked her so hard the bed thumped against the wall, the springs squeaking in rhythm with his thrusts.
He came so strongly he roared out a muffled curse into the pillow, and saw colored lights flash behind his eyelids.
As he slowed, she protested frantically, digging her short nails into his back and whimpering, still chasing her own orgasm.
With his last bit of energy, Mac flipped them both over, leaving her on top and in charge. "Ride me, cowgirl," he mumbled, patting her ass before his arms fell back on the bed.
And she did, clumsily, but with a whole lot of enthusiasm.
He dragged his eyes open to watch her—a pretty, slender blonde, her skin like pale satin in the weak hall lights—working him, one hand fingering her pussy, her head tipped forward, tits bouncing.
He may have just shot his load, but his cock was still plenty happy to be stroked. Luckily he was young enough it took him a while to lose his wood.
When she came, he shuddered at the feel of Rae's hot pussy clutching his cock with sweet little pumping squeezes.
He pulled her down onto him and patted her ass. "You win the silver buckle," he told her. "A fine ride, darlin’."
She sighed, and snuggled her face into his throat. “Mm-hmm,” she murmured.
Mac yawned so hard his jaw popped and fell instantly asleep with his living blanket of warm, happy woman.
CHAPTER SIX
Mac Carson was having the best dream of his life.
Walking through the Flyers’ clubhouse, he spied a sexy blonde angel, her filmy white dress drifting about her as she walked toward him, parting to show flashes of pale skin.
She held his gaze with her own as she approached, giving him a look that said she was about to make all his raunchiest dreams come true.
Without a word, she walked right into his arms. Her dress melted away, leaving her naked against him, soft, warm and lithe in his arms.
This was such a good dream he didn't want to wake up, but then something tickled his nose.
He sucked in a breath and sneezed.
That woke him up, and it woke the woman in his arms, too.
They stared at each other blankly for a moment.
Oh, right... his little blonde from the dance club. Rae something. RaeAnn, that was it.
Her honey brown eyes were heavy with sleep and with maybe a little too much makeup. But they were the prettiest eyes he'd seen in a long time—maybe ever. So he didn't mind the smudges under them, not one bit.
And he didn't mind her soft, warm naked curves plastered against him, either. Better than any dream, for damn sure.
A slow smile began somewhere deep in his chest and grew until it spread across his face and filled his own eyes.
"Morning," he said. His voice was scratchy with sleep and the cigarettes he'd taken to smoking occasionally this last year.
He tightened his arms and pulled her even closer so that her soft breasts were squished against his chest just the way he liked them, with her lower half tucked in close, too.
If he hadn't woken up with morning wood—which for him would be unusual because he always did—he sure as hell had it now. Her petal soft skin and sweet curves had him raring to go, ready to make this the best morning ever.
But a rosy blush was suffusing her face, and she made a noise—not quite a squeak, but not a word either. This tickled him so much he chuckled again.
She wrinkled her nose and primmed up those pretty lips.
“What?” he asked. “I have morning breath?”
“Oh, no,” she answered. “I just—um, we… we’re naked.”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “I noticed.” And he had to kiss her then. He shifted his hand higher to the back of her neck where it was soft and sleep warm under her long tangle of blonde hair, and pulled her closer to him. Then he cocked his head and moved in for a nice, soft, warm morning kiss.
But unlike last night, she didn't respond with fervor.
This morning, she lay in his arms like a living doll, letting him kiss her but not really participating.
He pulled back and eyed her. "You okay?" he asked. Maybe she was feeling those margaritas in a hangover.
She made that funny noise again, then cleared her throat, a tiny feminine sound. "I'm okay," she whispered.
He gave her a look. "Don't seem like it to me," he said, brushing back a long curl from her cheek. Her skin was so soft he could lie here and finger that cheek all morning — and do a lot of other things of course, until her cheeks were as pink as her soft full lips. "You need some hair of the dog?"
Her look turned bewildered. "Huh?"
"A drink," he clarified, grinning again. "A hangover remedy. I make a good one—milk, raw egg, a little sugar, and a shot of whiskey. That and a cup of good, strong java will fix you right up."
She wrinkled her nose again. "Um... no. Thank you."
Okay, then. "So, not used to waking up with a guy?" he asked, although he was pretty sure it was a given, considering her blush and the fact that she was still stiff in his arms, like maybe she was waiting for the chance to bolt.
Damn, he hoped she didn't. Memories of last night were flooding back and he wanted him some more of that.
But the look on her face and the stiff way she held herself said a lot of last night may have been due to the influence of the margaritas and that was too damn bad.
Since he was a good guy, even though he had her here naked in his arms, he checked in.
"Baby, you with me?"
Her arching, dark blonde brows drew together and a furrow appeared between them. She blinked. "Well, yeah... I'm right here," she said.
"I know," he said, grinning as he stroked her cheek again. "I meant, are you with me, as in, I’d really like to be inside you again. Like to make us both feel good again."
Her eyes widened until they were so huge he could see the ring of white around the soft brown iris. Her pupils flared and her mouth opened in a rosy o. "I'm —" she squeaked and then apparently ran out of words again.
He sighed inwardly. This was rough going. But she was worth the work
. Last night had been so good, sweet and real and natural.
He stroked the back of her neck softly, giving her a gentle squeeze there and moved his other hand down the small of her back letting it rest over the twin dimples above her sweet ass. "I made you cum last night, more than once, if I remember right. And you sure made me feel good. How about we get some more of that? Then, I take you out to breakfast and we see where the rest of the day takes us?"
She shook her head rapidly, her hair rustling on the pillow. "Oh no," she said quickly, her voice husky. "I can't. I have to work today. Oh my God, what time is it?"
He turned his head and squinted at the cheap clock radio on the dresser. "7:15," he said. "Early yet. We have lots of time."
She shook her head again and planted her hand on his chest and pushed. "No, we don't. I have to be at work by nine. I've got to get home and—and, you know... shower, and everything."
"All right." There went his last glimmer of hope for more.
With a sigh, he let her go. Their skin stuck together a little bit from perspiration. When she wriggled backward in the bed and the covers fell away from his chest, the air was cool on his damp skin. That was all right, he always ran hot.
But it made him realize he should probably get up and turn the heater on for her. It was September, but they were having a cool spell here in Eastern Washington.
She'd been wearing jeans and a cute little gauzy top last night at the bar, but when they left, she’d thrown on a jean jacket.
Now, she wore nothing at all. And she was looking embarrassed, like she didn't want to get out of bed and have him see her naked.
Jesus, what had he got himself into with this one? She hadn't been a virgin last night, he knew that for sure, but she was no party girl who threw her clothes on and off for guys regularly either.
He rolled out of bed on his side, bent down to grab his jeans, and pulled them up. Took some effort to fasten them as he still had his morning wood, but it was shrinking fast, thanks to her lack of interest.
He grabbed a T-shirt hanging over the edge of the chair and turned back toward the bed only to stop in his tracks, a slow grin spreading over his face again.