Physically, yes. Emotionally…Damnit, she wasn’t any longer sure.
She didn’t do relationships. Had never even wanted to attempt one. Not until two nights ago in the staff bathroom of Dusty’s Backroom when he’d led her to think he might care by admitting he hadn’t so much as kissed another woman in his bar. And again this afternoon in the stockroom when he renewed that idea with his words on her being his lone lover. And now…Now his need to secure her trust before laying a hand on her seemed to hint that he cared a great deal.
Well, too damned bad. He might care, but it didn’t change the facts. It didn’t change how like her slut of a mother she’d become. The moment sex came into play, she couldn’t focus on the things that mattered. If Dusty hadn’t denied her demand to finish with her orgasm, she would likely be out of a job.
Regardless of how he felt, her emotions weren’t getting involved. This was going to be a casual fuck that ended with her climaxing and then walking away permanently.
Nerves eased a fraction, Liz moved into the living room. She stopped when she spotted a pair of white takeout cartons on an end table previously hidden from view. She seriously doubted he had a sundae in one container and a bowl of whipped cream in the other and planned to live out her nightly fantasy via some kinky food-play. The odds were better they held regular food. And that was bad. Sharing dinner didn’t hint at a casual fuck, but a date. “We’re having dinner?”
“We’re going to need sustenance to make it through the night.” His sobriety caved to a wolfish grin as he gestured to a cushioned wood rocking chair. “Strip and have a seat.”
Her heartbeat accelerated with his hot look and the quiet demand in his voice. Something told her he was through playing Mr. Nice Guy out to secure her trust. “Right, Marr. Like you think I’m going to take off my clothes just because you asked.”
Dusty’s grin deepened, edging into his goatee and looking entirely too smug and equally sexy. “No thinking involved, babe. I know you’ll do it…if you want to come.”
Liz blew out a hard breath. Lovely. He had her trapped into acknowledging that his belief that she’d never before climaxed was dead on and there wasn’t a goddamned thing she could do about it. “You’re an asshole.”
He chuckled. “So you’ve said. A dickhead, too.”
That he was—a dickhead who knew exactly how to get to her. Her sex did a pulsing mambo, letting forth fresh wetness at the rich sound of his laughter. Summoning her courage, Liz moved in front of the rocking chair. No matter the cost to her pride and the bolster to his already-inflated ego, she’d come here for an orgasm and she wasn’t leaving until she had one. “I’m stripping because I want to.”
Hastily, she pulled the T-shirt over her head and cast aside her bra. She ignored his eyes, but she could still feel them on her breasts, and it had her nipples leaping to rock-hard attention. Her pussy wasn’t any better. It sped right past mambo terrain into what had to be a tropical rain dance for all the heat and moisture that gathered between her thighs the instant she was out of her jeans and panties.
“Now what, your royal pain in the ass?” She toed the pile of clothes and sneakers aside and looked up, ready to throw a glare his way to go with the snarky words. The breath snagged in her throat, killing any attempt at speech.
Dusty had undressed silently, and his big, beautiful, completely masculine body was on full display.
Sitting back on the couch with well-muscled thighs spread, he held his stiff cock in his hand, practiced fingers stroking from base to tip with slow, unhurried moves. Liz’s pulse pounded madly while her mouth watered with the yearning to suck his long, luscious member. He heightened the pace of his fingers, and his shaft surged forward in his fist. Silky fluid oozed from the dark pink head. Inhaling the heady scent of his stimulation, she fought the urge to go down on her knees and lap greedily at the salty liquid, as if she hadn’t been dying to do just that for three long weeks.
“Now we eat.”
What? Was he out of his mind to think she could handle swallowing while he sat just feet away, fondling himself? “I ate before I came over. Can we just get to it already?”
“Relax, babe.” His fingers moved past the thatch of thick blond hair at the base of his dick to cup his balls. He massaged their heavy weight, reminding her of their first night together, when she’d pulled the sensitive sac into her mouth and suckled. “You get worked into a dither and end up psyching yourself out.”
She jerked her attention to his face. “I’m not in any damned dither.”
“All but frothing at the mouth.” With his free hand, Dusty grabbed the remote control and hit the POWER button. “You strike me as a CSI fan.”
Incredulity shot through Liz. Yeah, the man was definitely out of his mind. “You brought me over here and ordered me to get naked to watch TV? That’s your idea of added thrill?”
“You’ll enjoy it.”
What she would enjoy was cutting the crap. Since that didn’t appear an option, she sat down on the rocker, crossed her legs, and turned to the television screen. She’d waited twenty-four years to climax. She could stand to wait a few more minutes, or however long the big idiot planned to keep her hanging. So long as she kept her attention off the maneuverings of his hand, she could.
“Why, Elizabeth, I never realized you were such a lady. Quit with the granny act and spread your legs; show me how wet you are.”
She went rigid. Given her slutty behavior as of late, the granny comment should have amused her; instead it pissed her off. “Go to hell.”
“I hate to break it to you, but the badass attitude doesn’t work on me. The bitchier you get, the harder I get. You don’t believe me, look for yourself.”
Liz fought the dual impulse to toss another nasty remark his way and to give in to his bidding and her own desire and watch him masturbate. She didn’t dare watch, not without risking the last of her patience. Unless his patience was just as thin, in which case giving in to his order could be the right course of action. “Maybe on the commercial break.” Stomach tightening, she uncrossed her legs and spread them wide. “I can’t stop watching once I start. I have this thing for Warrick. You don’t believe me, look for yourself.”
Dusty let go a low whistle. “Man must be good to get your pussy that wet from a flat screen. Part your lips and touch yourself.”
Juice trickled down her inner thighs. Juice she knew had everything to do with the penetrating way he eyed her slick folds and nothing to do with his suggestion. “It won’t do any good.”
“Can’t even come on your own. Poor thing. Whaddya say you humor me again and do it anyway?”
Whaddya say you drop the pitying note?
Though his words were light, the sympathy in his voice couldn’t be missed. He sounded genuinely sorry for her. Next to affection, sympathy was the last thing she wanted from him.
Praying it would be enough to try his patience, Liz brought her right hand to her nether lips and used her first and third fingers to separate them. Her clit stood out, puffy and red, from beneath its hood. Playing with it was bound to set him on edge. She brushed her index finger over the swollen pearl and nearly shot off the rocking chair as a shock wave of carnal sensation rioted through her, all but robbing her of breath.
It had to be knowing that Dusty watched her every move at work.
She allowed herself to look at him. His hand was back on his staff, stroking the generous length as leisurely as if he had all night. His fingers stilled near the tip, and he rubbed his thumb in the precum glistening there. He slid his thumb downward then, until the right half of his cock glistened with his essence. The urge to make the other half just as shiny with her tongue vibrated through her, so she forced her attention up to his face only to be captivated.
Want sizzled in his every feature. She’d witnessed him eyeing various women through the years, women it was clear he planned to sleep with at the first opportunity. Not once had he looked at those women with such intensity. Her finger scr
aped back across her clit with this discovery, and she just managed to stifle her gasp.
“You’re pink inside and extra juicy,” Dusty observed in a rough voice that had his accent thicker than ever. “What’s your nationality? Your skin’s olive.”
“My mom’s part Indian.”
“I can see why so many men want her if she looks like you.”
Liz’s fingers froze, loathing pushing through her. “Little hint, Marr. Talking about my mother’s a guaranteed way to kill the moment.”
He met her eyes, understanding in his own. “Same here.”
“Right,” she said dryly. “Just one of two things we have in common.”
Amusement flashed in his eyes, followed quickly by interest. “What’s the other?”
“Wanting to own a business. You already do.” And that was enough about their commonalities. She was here for sex, not small talk.
“What do you want to own?”
She was here for sex, not small talk, and still she found she wanted to answer. Clearly the really-want-to-orgasm monkey had sneaked up and taken off with her better judgment. “A pastry shop. Laugh and die.”
Good humor gleamed in his eyes. “What’s there to laugh about? I know for a fact that you crack a mean egg.”
She couldn’t stop her smile. “Bite me.”
“Later, I promise. Now, back to these things we have in common.” He glanced at her crotch. “And keep playing with yourself. Your tits, too.”
In the past, whenever something entered her thoughts during sex, her ability to feel pleasure would evaporate. Blame it on the sensual quality of Dusty’s voice, the commanding hunger in his dark chocolate eyes even while he teased her, or a combination of the two, but as Liz dipped her fingers into the slick valley of her sex, she felt pleasure galore. Raising her left hand to her breast, she tugged at the hard nipple and her pussy responded with a core-deep throb.
“You forgot our egos,” Dusty put in thickly, his attention returned to her fondlings.
She let her gaze wander back to the hand that petted his cock. Her breathing quickened as she studied the way he touched himself. Long, steady strokes. An occasional squeezing of the head. The trailing of his thumb down the vein that bulged along the underside. “You’re suggesting we both have big ones?”
“No. We have egos that need constant strokes. And that leads to our fourth thing in common: We lead people to believe we’re something we aren’t.”
Liz’s gaze shot to his face. Tension filled her with how closely he’d hit on the truth, at least for her. What was it he led people to believe about him that was off? She shouldn’t care. She should go over to the couch, take his shaft between her lips, and start sucking, make him forget they’d even been talking. But she did care. She had to know the answer.
“You really aren’t a dickhead?”
“’Fraid not. And you really aren’t a bitch.”
She had to know the answer, and yet it wasn’t worth the cost of revealing the truth about herself. “Damn, you’re on to me. I’m actually a sweetheart in bitch’s clothing.”
“I know. But I promise not to tell.” With a wink, he tossed her the remote.
She nearly jumped out of the rocking chair with her relief. Thank gawd! They were finally going to get on with it and not a moment too soon. “Tired of CSI?”
A bad-boy grin hitched up one side of Dusty’s mouth. “Changing the channel’s not what I had in mind.”
Then what did he…? The sensual challenge in his eyes registered. Holding out the remote like it was poisonous, she shook her head. No. No way. “I’m not sticking that thing in me. Christ, it probably has jizz on it from the last time you gave yourself a hand job.”
“Do it, Elizabeth! And that makes number five—the fact that we both like to have our way. I can go on if you’d like, but I’d much rather get on with the seduction.”
Seduction. That was what this night was about. Him seducing her enough to finally give her a bona fide orgasm. She wouldn’t have believed jamming a remote control in her pussy could be the means to that end, but then he was the sexpert. No, the man-whore without a single moral. That was who he truly was. Any act of caring or claim of monogamy had been a pretense to get her to his home and this moment.
Concentrating on the heat that simmered in his eyes as he watched her, Liz brought the remote to her slit and slowly eased it in inside. She expected to tense up with the first brush, to feel vile. Instead her pulse sped and fresh cream filled her cunt with the feel of the controller spreading her in a completely hedonistic way she’d never before experienced. The protruding channel buttons brushed against her clit. Her breath wheezed out as a jolt of raw sensation sent a shiver racing through her.
He smirked knowingly.
She snarled, “I was coughing.”
His smirk deepened. “Relax and enjoy the sensation.”
Relax, he’d told her, but it was the last thing Dusty could do when watching her fuck herself with the remote. He’d never seen a sight more erotic or thrilling. And it was getting to Liz in a big way. If the labored sound of her breathing was a sign, she was already skirting the edge of orgasm and probably didn’t even know it.
Time to change that last part.
“Enough! Get up and turn around.” He didn’t mean to bark the words, but he was close to his own climax, and it was having a serious effect on his mood.
Liz shot him a glare but stood. She turned and waved her tight ass in his face. Slowly, no doubt purposefully, she bent over so that her glimmering pussy lips peeked at him from between toned thighs. She tossed the remote on the seat of the rocking chair.
He wasn’t in the frame of mind or body for asking permission. And she would respond better to action than words anyway. He’d told her that she needed added thrill to come. Thrill might help her plight, but the green-light way she’d behaved in the stockroom suggested the true problem was her mind. Every other time he’d had her on the verge of orgasm, someone or something had come along to distract her, bringing her out of the moment. Tonight he wasn’t taking chances with distractions. Or giving her the time to think about her behavior.
Dusty moved to stand behind her. Palming her butt cheeks, he spread them to reveal her puckered hole slippery with desire. He considered pushing his tongue inside, showing her pleasure he could almost guarantee she’d never experienced elsewhere. The tensing of her rear suggested that would be too much too soon.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
He had her nervous again. Now that he understood her anxiety, he could remedy it.
Using his knees to apply pressure to the backs of hers, he felt her legs go weak. She allowed him to guide her to her hands and knees on the rug. That she gave in without any bluster said that while she hadn’t admitted to trusting him, she did so completely. Exultation filled him. He’d found a challenge in Liz; successfully meeting that challenge brought more satisfaction than supplying a thousand women with screaming orgasms could.
Because he couldn’t resist the temptation, he planted a wet kiss on the sweep of her spine and then returned to his ogling. “You have the greatest ass, Elizabeth.”
Starting at the top of her crack, he worked his first finger downward, until he reached her hole. He eased the finger inside a fraction. Her breath caught audibly, and her rear once again tightened. Bringing his other hand to her sex, he massaged a finger over her clit until cream flowed from between her folds and her ass cheeks relaxed. He inched his finger farther inside and found the passage growing increasingly slick with her excitement. His cock twitched joyfully. She might have lied about her many climaxes and the surplus of men who provided them, but her passionate nature was a fact.
“You like to have your asshole fingered…and to be spanked.”
Liz flinched as he pulled his finger from her body and smoothed his palm over her ass. “Jesus. You’re a sicko.”
“Trust me, you won’t find this sick.”
“Don’t you dare—”
/> The words died on a huff as Dusty brought his hand down on her bottom with a solid thwack. His dick throbbed with the primal sound, the skin stretched impossibly tight, ready to burst. Her fingers curled into white-knuckled fists, but she didn’t say a word. He took the silence as a good sign.
With a mental command to his cock to behave, he lifted his hand a second time. He allowed more pressure, slapping a bit harder, reveling in the pretty red that tinged her supple flesh. “Tell me you don’t like it.”
“I…I shouldn’t.”
No matter how much she wanted to climax, or even how much she trusted him, he hadn’t expected the quiet yet candid admission that suggested her tough-girl edge was once more stripped clean. His gut clenched. Sympathy swelled to life along with a soul-deep desire to hold her close and assure her it was perfectly normal to enjoy the sensual play, that it didn’t make her anything but a woman with a healthy sex drive.
Afraid what might come out of his mouth if he chose that latter route, he brought his palm back up and asked a single word. “Why?”
“I just shouldn’t,” Liz squeaked out as he spanked her a third time, allowing the side of his hand to come into contact with the rear of her pussy lips.
She thrust her hips back, clenching her buttocks, showing him how much she enjoyed the paddling. “It’s wrong.”
“Then why does it feel so good?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Because it isn’t wrong. It’s right. Let your mind go, absorb the stinging sensation. Remember, I would never hurt you, not for real.” Thanks to her mother’s bad choices, Liz was a victim of secondhand sex to an extent he’d only just realized. There was only one cure for her ailment, and that was showing her nothing they could do was wrong, just so long as it wasn’t hurting either one of them or anyone else in their lives.
Dusty pulled back his hand again, focused on the lips of her cunt, then struck the plump, pink edges with just enough force to make her whimper and squirm and build her up to the kind of blind-pleasure orgasm she’d never be able to forget.
A deluge of juices trickled from between her thighs with his next spank. He brought his finger to the rivulet, coating it with her cream. After taking a lick from it himself, he reached around to her mouth and held out his finger. “Taste your excitement. See how delicious you are.”
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