by Cora York
“Don’t be sad for me.” I gave him a small smile. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”
“That means you’re stronger than any man, woman, or child walking this earth.”
I pressed my nose against his and grinned. “I’m going to use that in a song.”
He laughed quietly. “That so?”
“That’s so.”
He laughed again, louder than before, the deep sound vibrating against my body. “Do I get royalties?”
“You get something better than that,” I said, stroking his day-old whiskers.
“What’s that?”
“Me.” I straddled his thighs and splayed my hands on his chest, loving the steady thud, thud, thud of his heart against my fingertips.
“Bad idea.” His baritone voice seemed to lower another octave. His words might have said one thing, but the very sizeable erection tenting his sweatpants said another.
“Why?” I gritted my teeth against his second rejection. “Is it because I’ve got some junk in the trunk and more than a few jiggly bits?”
“Are you shitting me? Everything about you is as hot as sin. It’s because I’m afraid I’ll break your heart and from the sound of things, it’s been broken enough.”
“Let me worry about my heart.”
“Don’t go thinking about commitment or long term, Nattie, because you won’t find it here. I don’t do relationships.”
“I’m only thinking about now. I’m thinking about how much I want you. Thinking about how much I want to give myself to you.”
I trailed my lips down the side of his neck and along the pulse jumping in his throat. Then, reaching up, I dragged my fingers through his hair and tugged.
“Kiss me, Colt.”
A low rumble came from somewhere deep inside him. He brought his mouth close to mine and, after a few seconds of hesitation, he kissed me as though he needed my breath to live. If he kept kissing me in such a sexy way, I’d climax without him having to do anything else.
My hands started to move, running all over his shoulders and arms, across his chest and through his hair. Living under the same roof as him for a week had been a crazy kind of foreplay that had built up to this moment.
“You’re going to kill me,” he rasped against my lips.
“I’ll try not to.” Wanting to touch him all over, I slid my hands beneath his T-shirt, loving the solid muscles I found there.
“I tried to resist you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Promised I wouldn’t do this, but I can’t help myself.”
He wedged a thigh between mine, and I gladly straddled it, grinding and riding like I was naked and on top of him. I didn’t have much experience, but instinct took over, guiding me, making me confident, making me bold and brave.
“You sure this is what you want, Nattie?”
“I want this. I want you.”
“Glad to hear it. Don’t know if I’d be strong enough to stop.”
A second later, his hand was between my thighs, shoving my soaked thong to one side. He brushed a fingertip against my clit, and my breath came out in a strangled gasp.
“Fuck me,” I said, not hiding my impatience or my need.
He lowered his head and bit my nipple through my nightie. “You need to understand something, darlin’. You’re not the one in control, I am.”
He threaded his arms around my waist, lifted me from his thigh, and set my ass on the edge of the table, knocking the breakfast plates out of the way as he did. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready, not when you tell me to.”
He positioned my feet on the armrests of his chair, then eased my thighs apart. After a few seconds of uncertainty about showing him my body, I thought screw it and yanked my nightie over my head. Although I wasn’t cold, I shivered, and my already beaded nipples puckered to points.
“Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes?” Colt leaned back, his hooded eyes lingering on my breasts, drinking them in. “Everything about you is fucking perfect.”
For a second, I couldn’t catch my breath. The heavy desire in his words thrilled me and left my stomach jittery. “Let me see you. Take your clothes off. I want to see all of your tattoos.”
“Remember when I said I was the one in control? I meant it.”
He moved his fingertips between my legs, tracing them up and down my folds but not once touching my clit. My back arched, my hips flexed, and I bit my lip to stifle the moan hovering in my throat. I would have to take matters into my own hands if he didn’t touch me soon.
“There something you want, sweetheart?”
I tried to ignore his teasing tone, but a frustrated groan fell from my lips. He removed his fingertips and lowered his head between my legs. Dizziness engulfed me, and I tried to suck in a deep breath to regain my equilibrium, but it was next to impossible.
I was going to die.
“Want me to stop, darlin’? Just say the word.” Continuing his torture, he wrapped his hands beneath my thighs, anchoring me in place.
I shook my head.
“That’s what I thought.”
With no buildup, he clamped his lips over the hood of my swollen clit and began to suck in a slow and steady rhythm. Every cell in my body fizzed, and my nipples pebbled as blistering heat danced along my skin.
He continued to lick and tease me as if he had all the time in the world and not like I was on the verge of spontaneously combusting.
I’d never had a man’s face between my legs before, and I loved, loved, loved everything about having Colt’s there. Just as I loved, loved, loved every creative swirl of his tongue, every nibble of his teeth, and every deep pull of his lips.
Our eyes locked. He began to suck, faster and faster, harder and harder. I bucked up against his mouth, whimpering, writhing, and moaning at the sweet torture. Colt chuckled, and the slight vibration drove me closer to the edge. Even if I’d wanted to, no way could I stop the orgasm building inside of me from breaking free.
The intensity of looking at him was too much. I closed my eyes and moaned softly, deeply. Then an all-consuming climax washed over me. My hips thrashed, and I thrust myself against his mouth, rubbing and riding, taking all I could.
My shaking legs buckled, but Colt held them steady while the last rippling waves of my orgasm rolled over me.
After I had no more to give, my head lolled forward with my hair clinging to my sweat misted skin.
Colt raised his head and grinned, the lower half of his face slick with the evidence of my climax.
“Too much for you?”
Unable to form words, I both shook and nodded my head.
“Good, ‘cos I’m not finished with you.”
Lowering his head again, he swirled his tongue over my still pulsing clit.
“No,” I cried. “I can’t.”
Reaching up, he flicked his fingers over my nipples, making them tingle and tighten. He lifted his head and said, “Looks like I’ll have to remind you again who’s in charge.”
Chapter Four
Colt
I stood in front of my bathroom mirror and wiped the condensation away. The reflection belonged to a man I didn’t recognize.
When did I get a conscience?
Not screwing her on the kitchen table almost killed me. For the life of me, I don’t know why I didn’t take her when I had the chance.
Maybe part of me thought I was somehow acting chivalrous. Yeah, real chivalrous eating her out no less than four times.
So much for my plan to stay away from her.
I stepped beneath the pounding spray and pressed my hand against the cold tiles, my dick pulsing painfully.
Nat was currently fast asleep in my bed. Four orgasms in a row would take it out of anyone.
A flash of her face mid-orgasm shot into my mind’s eye, and my cock jerked, looking for some much-needed release. I couldn’t hold off taking care of myself any longer.
Reaching down, I curled my fingers around my shaft and moved my hand up and down.
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I wouldn’t last long, so there was no point trying to go slow. What would her sweet lips feel like wrapped around my dick, or her tongue feel like licking my balls?
I could tell she wasn’t all that experienced, but she was a sensuous and responsive woman who wasn’t afraid to take her enjoyment or show it. Fucking her and then spraying my cum all over her sexy body was the stuff dreams were made of.
Were she here, I’d have her kneel in front of me and suck me deep. I’d soap up her tits and have her press them together so I could slide my dick between her luscious mounds, and when I was close to losing it, I would position her until she touched her toes, then I’d slam my cock into her tight pussy and fuck her until we both exploded.
My hand moved faster, gripped harder. Reaching down, I squeezed my balls. I was seconds away from exploding.
A growl sounded in my throat, but I bit it back. I didn’t want to wake her or let her know I was in the shower jerking off.
An image of her on her knees in front of me with her mouth open and ready to catch my cum flashed through my head.
A second later, I shot my load. The sweet pain was exquisite, and before I could stop myself, her name fell from my lips.
The next time she offered herself, I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to say no.
****
Nat paced up and down my office so much she was about to wear a hole in the hardwoods. “I can’t do this. They’re going to hate me. They’re going to think my songs are immature and have no meaning.”
There was a lot I could say to convince her otherwise, but my words would hold no weight. Not when she was like this.
“And if you don’t get up on stage, you’ll ask yourself what if for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?”
She shook her head and nibbled on her lips. “I know I’m being dramatic. Singing at county fairs and on street corners were nothing compared to this. People didn’t really listen to me. They hadn’t paid money to hear me sing.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, I know they haven’t paid money to hear me sing here either, but they’re here to have a good time and if I’m crap then...”
“Then they’ll boo and heckle until you walk off stage.”
She waved her hands frantically in front of her body. “Oh, God, oh God, oh, God. I’m going to throw up.”
I grabbed her hands and stopped her from pacing. “Darlin’, if I didn’t think you had what it took, no way on earth would I put you up there. My bar pays my bills, pays a lot of people’s bills. I wouldn’t risk that for anything or anyone. I’ve got a reputation to protect.”
I wouldn’t tell her I’d made a few phone calls, and that some producers and songwriters were coming to watch her perform.
It would have been selfish of me not to call in a few favors. The men and women on Music Row would help hone her craft while my bar would help hone her stage presence.
“You’re right.” Her posture relaxed, and she gave me an impish smile. “I guess I need to do something to take my mind off everything.”
“Thinking about anything in particular?”
“A few things.” She leaned over and planted a deep kiss on my lips. Desire reared up inside of me, and my dick responded by instantly hardening. She stepped back and gazed at me, her eyes shiny with lust.
“I like how you think.”
“Then you’ll like this even more.” She took my hand and placed it on her breast. A flash of need bolted through me. After jerking off, not once but twice, I shouldn’t still be this horny.
If we’d had the time, I would have thrown her over my shoulder, taken her upstairs and fucked her until we both came.
“Looks like I’ve created a monster.”
“Is that a bad thing?” She drew in a deep breath, then let it go. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this about anyone. I can’t stop thinking about you—about us.”
I placed a fingertip on her lips. “Nattie, there is no us. There can’t be. Remember, I don’t do relationships.”
Angry tears filled her eyes, and she stepped away. “Whoever broke your heart deserves a broken face.”
“Now that’s a song you need to write.”
“Why are you so afraid to let me in? I’m not going to hurt you. Tell me why you’re so anti-love and relationships.”
I wouldn’t go into specifics, but I would give her some background just so she would understand where I was coming from. She deserved that.
“A few years ago, I fell in love with someone I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. She walked into my bar just like you did. Man,” I said with a shake of my head, “that girl could charm the dew off honeysuckles. A few years later, she walked out of my life, taking my ability to love with her.”
Nat looked at me as if waiting for more. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”
“That’s all you need to know.”
“Her loss is my gain. She wasn’t the right woman for you.”
“You are?”
She gave a confident nod. “The second you shook my hand, I said to myself, ‘There’s the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.’”
“You don’t know me, Nattie. Besides, I’m fifteen years older than you. You’d grow tired of an old fart like me in no time. You’re nineteen. Too young to think about spending your life with anyone. I’m not the right man for you.”
She placed her hands on her hips and scowled. “Now you listen here, mister. I’ll decide who’s right for me and who isn’t.”
There was a knock on the door, and Lucas poked his head in. “Nat, it’s time.”
She rolled back her shoulders and looked me right in the eye. “We’re not done with this conversation. You’re going to fall in love with me whether you like it or not.”
She was wrong.
I wasn’t going to fall in love with her because there was a good chance I already was.
Natalie
If I hadn’t been so nervous about getting up on The Strangled Cat’s stage for the first time with an audience, then I’d be pissed at Colt. What did I have to do to make him realize we were meant to be together?
No denying it, I was hook, line, and sinker in love with him.
He’d made me come four times—four fabulous mind-melting times—but my entire body still ached for more. Being with him made me daring and dauntless. Like I could conquer the world.
I wasn’t mad at the woman who’d broken his heart, and if I ever met her, I’d let her know that she’d hurt someone enough they never wanted to fall in love again.
I’d ask if she was proud of the damage her actions had caused.
I would never hurt Colt, and I believed in my heart he would never hurt me. To the rest of the world, he was a tough-as-old-boots cowboy, but when we were alone, I got to see how caring and sweet he really was.
It was still early, but since it was a Thursday night, tourists had begun to arrive for a long weekend of partying, which meant the bar was already jammed. The food and the music at The Strangled Cat brought people through the door. I wasn’t kidding myself that they were here to listen to me sing. I was just background noise while they ate and drank, but I would give it my all.
Montana Chambers once said in an interview you had to give everything to every show, be it ten people or ten thousand. That you always had to bring your A-game and be professional. Well, tonight, I would bring my A+ game and more.
With a deep, centering breath, I followed Lucas on to the stage. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for.
He tapped the microphone and said, “How ya all doin’? Welcome to Thursday night at The Cat.” A chorus of cheers and several ye-haws greeted him.
I stood behind him fiddling with my guitar strings, my heart hammering a million miles a minute.
Lucas continued, “We’ve got a treat for you tonight. Making her debut, please welcome Natalie Davis all the way from Gainesville, Georgia.”
There was a smattering of applause. Lucas stepped away
from the microphone and gestured for me to take his place.
I adjusted the mic stand, and feedback screeched around the bar. I jerked back, not missing the sniggers coming from some of the audience.
“Evenin’, everyone. Like Lucas said, my name’s Natalie. I’ve been singing and making up my own songs since before I could walk.”
“Get on with it,” a man’s voice called out.
A movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Colt was on his way over to the heckler, but I shook my head to stop him. I could handle anyone and anything without his help. With a nod in my direction, he went to lean on the bar.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Mike.”
“Mike, I’m gonna write a song about tonight, and you’re going to get a mention for being my very first heckler.” I strummed a generic tune, then began to sing. “There was a guy called Mike, thought he was some kind of hot stuff, tried his best to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Tried to make me quit, tried to make me cry, but ended up in the hospital thanks to my guy.” The audience laughed, and Mike looked sheepish. “Anyone else like to be in my song?”
“You’re the worst,” a lady wearing a pink, sparkly cowgirl hat called out, then cackled along with her girlfriends. “The name’s Anne with an E.”
I strummed my guitar again. “Ann with an E, guzzled cheap red wine, she was looking for love, sure had been a long time. Mike bought her a drink, she threw it in his face. I’m not that desperate she said, you’re a fucking disgrace.” Ann with an E roared, and the audience cracked up along with her.
My nerves vanished, and for the first time all week, my confidence soared. I glanced at Colt, who had noticeably relaxed. Both of us knew everything would be fine.
For about ten more minutes, I traded insults with the crowd before launching into my songs. They danced and clapped along, sometimes singing a few words of the choruses. They didn’t boo me or heckle me off the stage like in my nightmares.
“For my last song,” I said, “I’d like to slow things down a little. I’ve been going back and forth all week about singing this for you because it’s one of the most personal things I’ve ever written, but since we’re all friends here, I think I’m in safe hands. This one’s called Break Me. Enjoy.”