by Savanna Fox
This night was incredible. She might still be a fish out of water, yet she felt better than she could ever remember feeling. The man was magic. Even the music sounded great as the woman singer crooned in a low, husky voice. Sexy voice.
Sexy man holding her like she belonged in his arms. And she felt like she did. They were such different sizes and builds, she and Ty, yet they fit as if they were made for each other.
Against her belly, behind his fly, an erection was growing. He wasn’t the only one who was turned on. Until today, she’d only experienced arousal during sex or at least heavy foreplay. But ever since she’d first laid eyes on Ty, her body had been flushed and tingly. Now, she felt moisture on her inner thighs and had a bizarre craving to climb his strong frame and grind her sex against him, seeking relief.
How much of this was because of Ride Her, Cowboy? Was she channeling the journalist Marty’s attraction to Dirk Zamora? Kim had been aroused when she’d read the Lady Emma book too, but that feeling hadn’t carried over when she was with Henry.
So maybe it wasn’t the book; it was Ty. Ty, and a day in the sun watching tough, strong guys and tough, strong animals. Ty, and that supremely male body of his. Ty, and the firm hard-on pressing against—
“Kim?” Ty’s voice broke into her thoughts.
She tilted her head up, knowing her cheeks were pink. “Yes?”
“Your friend’s trying to get your attention.”
Kim glanced over to their table, to see Marielle and Blake with their arms around each other. Marielle waved and winked.
Kim waved back, and watched the pair head for the door. It wasn’t the first time she’d been at a bar with Marielle and her friend had gone off with a guy she’d just met.
It made Kim aware of the time. The drive home was lengthy, it was past midnight, and she wasn’t even sure where she was. She’d driven here following Lily, who followed Marielle, who used the GPS on her phone.
Kim didn’t want to leave. This was a blissful kind of torture, dancing with Ty. Feeling turned on, special, completely unlike her normal self. She’d never had a moment like this, and she wanted it to go on forever. Reluctantly, she murmured, “I should go too.”
“Aw,” he said, giving her a seductive smile, “don’t do that. I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to either,” she admitted, “but it’s late.”
“You’re okay to drive?”
“Sure, I only had one beer.” Even if it had packed a wallop. She gave in to temptation and leaned her cheek against his chest, that hot, hard vee at the open neck of his shirt.
He shook his head. “Two.”
“What?” Mmm, he smelled so good. If she licked him, would he taste woodsy too?
“Two beers. We got refills.”
“We did? I wasn’t paying attention.” She’d been so wrapped up in talking to him, in savoring the sexy way he made her feel. Two beers? No wonder she felt so strange: giggly, dreamy, lustful, off balance. “I should drink coffee, have something to eat.” The hot dog and mini donuts had been hours and hours ago.
If she had coffee and food, she’d be okay to drive, wouldn’t she? She socialized a fair bit, but always in the city where she could walk or take public transit. Drinking and driving had never been an issue.
“Or you could stay,” he said softly, his hips teasing hers.
Six
Stay? Kim’s breath caught. They’d danced, their bodies had flirted, but . . . Did he think she was like Marielle, carefree and shameless, like the title of that song?
She wasn’t. Was she? He did turn her on more than she’d ever been before . . .
Maybe that wasn’t what he’d meant anyway. She shouldn’t jump to conclusions. “Stay?” she echoed. “You mean, find a room somewhere?”
“Somewhere.” His hips and hard-on pressed seductively against her. “Like with me.”
Oh, yes! But . . . no, she couldn’t.
When she didn’t reply, he went on. “Or get yourself a room at the motel across the street. Wouldn’t even have to move your car, much less drive home.”
Okay, he was being a gentleman. That was good. Really, it was good. She didn’t want him pressuring her. The arousal that quickened her body was already doing a fine job of that.
Swaying with him to the slow music, she tried to think. If she got a room, she wouldn’t have to worry about driving. In fact, she could even have another drink if she wanted one. No, then she might go really crazy. Climb up on the bar and sing, or jump the cowboy’s bones. She bit back a giggle.
If she kept dancing with Ty, she could keep her hottest erotic fantasy going until . . . Until? Until she wanted it to end, she supposed.
Though, right now, it was hard to imagine ever wanting this bliss to end. How far dare she take it?
* * *
The gal in Ty’s arms hadn’t said she was staying, much less sharing his room. But actions spoke. She pressed close, her cheek against his chest, which was bared by the open neck of his shirt. Had she really not made up her mind? Was she playing hard to get? Did she want him to seduce her? Kim was harder to read than a buckle bunny, but he was up for the challenge. In more ways than one.
He didn’t want to settle for easing the ache in his groin with a quick jack-off. He hadn’t had sex, real live sex, in way too long, and he wanted it—with dragonfly girl.
Ty still wasn’t sure why. She was pretty, fun, smart, but so were lots of women. Maybe it was the differences that made her intriguing: a cowboy rancher and an artist city girl. Maybe it was what they had in common, like both understanding passion. Passion for very different things—but also passion for each other. Would she give in to it?
He eased her even closer, the friction of his hard-on against her lithe body driving him crazy. “I’ve never danced with an artist before.”
She giggled, her breath whispering against his chest. “I’ve never danced with a cowboy.”
“I like it.” He reached a big hand down to cup her tight little butt. One thing he knew from the horse world: you couldn’t judge the quality of the animal by its size. Sometimes the smallest ones had the finest bodies, were the smartest, had the most courage and fire. Was Kim one of those?
“I like it too.” She tilted her head, those bright, long-lashed eyes gazing up at him. “I’ve never been in a place like this, never danced to music like this. Never met anyone like you.”
“It’s good to broaden your experience.” Like by going to bed with him.
“That’s what I was telling myself earlier. It’s good for my creativity.”
Her creativity? Was she creative in bed? His cock surged. “Yeah, I like creativity.” He dipped his head, taking all the time in the world to let her know he was coming in for a kiss.
Her eyes widened, her lips parted slightly, then she came up on her toes and met him.
Her kiss was hesitant, and God, her lips were soft. Yes, she did taste of honey. Lust slammed through him. It took all Ty’s willpower to keep his grip on her body loose and easy, and keep the kiss gentle and teasing. He wasn’t riding a bronc. This wasn’t eight seconds of crazy intensity and a struggle of wills. It was more like gentling a wild horse, persuading it that letting him ride it would be a good thing for both of them.
She wanted him. And shit, he wanted her. He wanted her bad. And soon.
Grateful to the band for keeping the slow numbers coming, he swayed to the music, his hips and groin teasing Kim’s while his lips and tongue explored her small, perfect lips. He stroked the crease between them, felt her breath sigh out.
She parted her lips wider in invitation.
He swept his tongue inside to explore, his body tightening with urgency. Would her pussy taste as sweet as her mouth? Would it be as warm and wet?
Her tongue mated shyly with his at first. Then suddenly it thrust boldly and her body surged against him like she’d been hit by a bolt of the same lust that blazed through his veins.
Finally, he eased off on the kiss to
croon, “Oh yeah, Kim, that’s so good.” He could barely speak. She’d stolen his breath.
“So good,” she echoed, looking dazed. “I can’t believe the way you make me feel.”
Forcing himself not to rush her, Ty danced a couple more numbers with her. Slow dancing, kissing, fondling as much of her body as he could in public.
She gave back as good as she got, her hands on his ass, her tongue licking a seductive trail on his bare chest.
When he was sure she’d stopped giving off mixed signals, he said, “I want to be alone with you, Kim.”
Her eyes were so big, so beautiful, in that delicate face. “Yes,” she breathed.
Hallelujah!
In less than a minute, he’d led her back to their table, left bills to pay for their drinks, and helped her find the yellow bag she’d tucked under the table. Semicold bottles of Moosehead and Dead Frog lager sat on the table—from Blake and Marielle?—so he snagged them by the necks with one hand.
He headed Kim toward the door, his arm around her waist, holding her tight against his side. He wasn’t sure whether he was afraid she’d get away or just didn’t want to let go of her, but it sure as hell felt fine.
Outside, the air was fresh against his overheated skin. A string of flashing red and white lights lit up the sign that read THE RUSTY SPUR. He tugged her away from them. Slowing his long-legged stride to accommodate her shorter legs, he led her across the quiet road to the motel.
The Wagon Wheel had small log cabins scattered among cottonwood trees. His truck with the Ronan Ranch name and double R logo—the name and logo founded by his grandparents—was parked outside his unit.
When he’d decided to stay here rather than drive home, he’d figured he and Blake would be having a few drinks. He sure hadn’t expected to take a woman back to his room.
Kim gazed around at the log cabins, the trees. “I’ve never been in a motel.”
“Seriously?” But then, he guessed a city girl would have no reason to. “I couldn’t count the number I’ve stayed in over the years, on the circuit.”
She tipped her head back, then lost her balance and stumbled.
“Watch it.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. She’d tripped a couple of times before too. Was she tipsy? No, she hadn’t even finished two beers. Must just be a touch clumsy. He studied her rapt face as she stared upward. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at the stars! They’re so beautiful. I’ve never seen so many stars.”
He glanced up. It was a nice night, but the stars were nothing special. Of course she wouldn’t see them all clear and shiny like that in Vancouver or Hong Kong.
When she straightened, he handed her a bottle of beer.
Her arched brows lifted. “Alcohol outside? That’s illegal, isn’t it?”
He clicked his bottle to hers and took a long swallow. Could’ve been colder, but it still tasted damned good after the heat inside, and the dancing. “You into following the rules?”
“Pretty much.” She cocked her head. “That makes me sound awfully boring.” She tipped the bottle to her mouth and took an equally long swallow.
He chuckled. “You’re definitely not boring, Kim.”
“I’m not?”
“You’re the most intriguing woman I’ve met in a hell of a long time.”
Her lips quirked. “That’s quite the line, cowboy.”
Another swallow of beer. “Something you should know about me: I say what I mean. If I can’t do that, I keep my mouth shut.”
“Oh.” She drank some more beer. “Well, then, thanks.” Staring up at him, her dark eyes reflected the stars. “Okay, Ty Ronan, I’ll tell you the truth too. You’re the most intriguing man I’ve met in a hell of a long time. I don’t meet guys like you.” A giggle escaped. “Except in books. This really is like something out of a book.”
He didn’t have time to do much reading that wasn’t ranch-related, but made a guess. “An attraction of opposites thing?”
“Kind of. Yeah.” She giggled again.
“Hey, as long as there’s an attraction.” He put his beer bottle on the hood of his truck, then took hers from her and did the same with it.
When she looked questioningly at him, he cradled her fine-boned head between his hands. That spiky hair was soft, like the breast feathers of a bird. He tilted her face up, and leaned down to kiss her slowly. Very slowly, deliberately, and gently, though his body urged him to just take her, hard and fast.
Her lips opened to him on a honeyed sigh, and her tongue met his. It didn’t take much coaxing before she was kissing him eagerly again, reaching her arms around to stroke down his back and squeeze his ass.
Her eyes were shut, her lashes silky and long against the upper curves of her cheeks. Then her lashes fluttered, her eyes drifted open. She gazed into his eyes, then past his face, and her eyes widened. “Oh,” she breathed. “The stars. We’re kissing under the stars. That’s so cool.”
Kissing her was cool. He didn’t much care where they did it.
He took her mouth again, felt her eager response. No, “cool” was the wrong word. Her body, her mouth, the woman was hot. And he was hot for her. Lust sparked between them and the kiss went deeper, wilder. He hooked his hands under her butt and hoisted her up into his arms. His sore back gave a twinge, but he quickly forgot the pain as Kim wrapped her legs around him and clung. Still kissing, he ground his erection against her center, and she pressed back.
“Oh God,” she breathed when he broke the kiss.
“Yeah.” Need consumed him, drove him. He lowered her onto the hood of the truck, hurriedly put the bottles on the ground, then raised the hem of her skirt.
* * *
Oh God, oh God, she’d had sex before, but Kim had never felt like this, never experienced anything like this.
A starry, starry night, tall trees all around, air as pure as water from a mountain spring. Her body soft and mellow but on fire at the same time, her sex pulsing with need, hot moisture seeping from her. The man—this tough, hard-bodied cowboy, this smooth dancer, this incredibly sexy kisser—his big hands brushing her legs as he lifted her skirt.
She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted this man, this moment, under the stars.
Ty found the side straps of her thong, his roughened skin a sensual caress against the tender skin of her hips. He peeled her underwear off and fresh air brushed her damp pussy. Then he rolled her skirt to her waist, baring her to the air, the stars, and his gaze.
Shameless. Like the song. She should protest, but she couldn’t. She needed him. Here, now.
“Jesus, Kim, you’re pretty,” he said in a rough-edged croon. “So pretty.”
He stood back, deftly undid his fancy belt buckle, and unzipped his fly.
She watched, captivated. This was all so foreign. Sex was about taking off clothes and neatly folding them, sliding under covers, hugging and stroking until arousal glowed.
But not now. This was so raw, such a weird mix of elements. The most romantic starry sky she’d ever seen. The elaborate buckle that proclaimed this man the toughest of the tough. Under her thighs, the chilled metal of a truck with a ranch logo. The visceral need that had her clenching her thighs against the ache. So unreal, all of it. Exactly like something out of an erotic novel.
She was living an erotic novel and felt sexier than she’d ever have believed possible. She leaned back, straight armed, to rest her hands against the hood, flaunting her body.
Ty groaned and grabbed his wallet from a jeans pocket. He found a condom, unwrapped it, then shoved down his jeans and underwear in one rough sweep.
His cock sprang free, and she stifled a gasp. It was full and bold, bigger than she’d ever seen, more arousing than she’d have believed possible. She wanted to hold it, stroke it, suck it. But later. Right now, as more moisture slipped down her thighs, she wanted him inside her. Needed him inside her, to satisfy the ache he’d created.
“Ty,” she moaned, “I need you.”
> “Jesus, yeah.” He sheathed himself. Were those strong, capable hands actually shaking?
The hood of the truck was high enough that she was at his chest level. He grasped her thighs firmly, separated them, and leaned forward to bury his face between them.
Startled, she let out a squeak, but it turned to a groan of pleasure as he lapped at her. Henry had done this, but he’d been almost . . . polite about it. Her body had never peaked, much less shattered, under his tongue.
Ty definitely wasn’t polite. Nor was he slow, gentle, or teasing. Instead, his tongue and lips were rough, demanding. To her surprise, that was exactly what her body wanted. Had anything ever felt this good? She arched back, thrusting her sex against that hungry mouth, and gave herself up to the sensations he created.
Delicious tension raced through her with each lick against her pussy lips, each stab of his tongue between them, each suck and swirl around her clit. Helplessly, she moaned and twisted against him, not sure she could take any more of these intense, exquisite sensations without breaking.
And then she did break, in a swift surge of release that was so sharp and powerful it verged on pain.
Ty held her together with strong fingers circling her hips. Then, as trembling waves still coursed through her, he lifted her toward him, off the hood of the truck and into his arms.
Her legs, more jelly than muscle, somehow managed to wrap around him.
He kissed her fiercely, and tension raced through her again, a hair-trigger return to arousal. Now her legs tightened, the years of yoga paying off, and she clung to him as the head of his cock probed between her legs, blunt and hungry.
She wriggled against him, her body opening, shifting, accommodating his size as he pushed slowly, relentlessly upward. He filled her, stretched her, in a brand-new way. A way that didn’t allow her to hold still but made her lift upward, using her thigh muscles and the arms she’d braced on his shoulders for leverage. Up, sliding up his shaft, his flesh already slick with her juices, then down again, creating friction against her inner walls, pressure against her clit.