by L. B. Dunbar
“I never said I wouldn’t. I just said I didn’t want to.” He pauses, lowering his head but his hat brim taps my head. “Thought my girl might want to dance, and I don’t want her dancing with anybody else.”
“I’m so sorry for the other night. I don’t want to fight.” I’m not even certain what we were fighting over, but he was clearly upset.
“Pretty lady, that was all me.” Leon sighs and squeezes me. “You’re too good for me. I don’t want to ever do anything that makes you . . . uncomfortable with me, with where I’ve been and who I am.”
“Don’t say that.” My eyes latch onto his, but he quickly looks away. I reach for his chin, forcing his attention back to me. “Leon, why would you say such a thing?”
I don’t want to fight again, but I want to understand.
“Tricia, you’re a smart, educated woman with a great job, a good family, and a plan. You’re . . . perfect.” His compliment is flattering, but it’s also not true.
“I’m not perfect. I’ve made huge mistakes.” I scoff. My soon-to-be ex-husband is example number one. “Did you not see that man just dragged out of here?”
“I can’t even defend your honor without it being a risk.” Leon wearily gazes down at me, hinting how he couldn’t fight Trent.
“Let me worry about my honor. You just stay out of trouble,” I tease, but there’s genuine concern behind my joke. “Could you really go to jail for a fight?”
“Conditions of release. No trouble.” Leon squeezes me against him again and playfully adds, “But from the moment I met you, Tricia Carter, you’ve been nothing but trouble.”
My shoulders fall a bit. “I don’t want to be trouble for you. I don’t want to be a risk.” This is a real fear. Will my connection to Trent be an issue for Leon? How long will he hold out for my divorce? How long will Leon deal with this Trent drama?
“You’re worth every risk, baby. Now, let’s stop talking about that asshat while you’re in my arms. Dance with me, Esméralda.”
I slowly smile with pleasure that he recognizes my costume, and while Esmeralda and Zorro don’t classically go together, we do make a striking couple.
“Zorro, huh?”
“Latino lover at your service.”
“He was also a hero,” I remind him.
“He was an outlaw,” Leon snorts, leading me to the dance floor.
“A hero-outlaw then, and I like his kind of trouble.”
Leon stops, spins to face me, and cups my cheek. “See? I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
“Yes, you do, because I feel like I deserve you.” I believe this. I went without love for too long in my own marriage and I deserve whatever this is with Leon. Roommates with benefits? Casual sex between friends? I won’t question it. I’m going to soak up everything it’s doing for me—restoring my faith in love, rejuvenating my body, and feeding my soul.
“So come dance with me, my Esmeralda.” He winks.
“Unfortunately, unlike her, I don’t really know how to dance,” I whisper, hesitating on a sudden sense of embarrassing myself in front of him with my lack of rhythm.
“Oh baby, you let me lead,” he hums, and I guess I don’t have a problem with that. I’m following his lead already, and so far, I’m enjoying the dance.
Lesson 20
The Day of the Dead celebrates life.
[Leon]
I don’t know why she thinks she can’t dance because she falls into line with me easily, following my lead as my leg slips between hers, and I guide her around the floor. We’re taking up more floor space than necessary, but I want to really dance with her, which means hip to hip and spinning her out to tug her back to press chest to chest with me. I don’t recognize the sexy, sultry country song, but I like the beat because it’s perfect for moving her the way I want. When the song ends, people actually clap for us, but Tricia doesn’t notice. Her eyes are locked on mine. She’s breathless.
“Why were you late?” she questions, although I don’t think that’s what’s made her lose her breath. I pull her to me as another song starts, and I keep us close, swaying side to side instead of whipping around the dance floor.
“I was talking to Dixon.”
Those forest-like eyes look up at me, anticipation in them, and I want to give her answers. “I told him about my drawings, leaving off the part about how I had experience, of course, and I asked him if he’d ever consider me for custom paint jobs.”
“Leon!” she shrieks. “That’s wonderful.” Her enthusiasm is catchy, and I smile despite myself.
“It isn’t a promise of a better job.” I shrug, dismissing the opportunity.
“But it’s a chance at something you love. You don’t know what will happen, but Dixon will love your designs.”
“How do you know?” I’ve only shown her the one sketch.
“I have faith in you.”
Jesus, I didn’t expect that, and I didn’t expect the wind to be knocked out of me at her words, either.
“You okay?” she asks as my palm sweats, and I hold her tighter to me. I want her closer to me. I want us to really connect like two bodies can connect.
“I . . . yeah, I just think . . . I need some air.” That isn’t what I need. What I need is to be inside her, laid deep. I want her to feel me, to feel how I feel about her. I wasn’t lying when I said she’s perfect.
“Let’s go outside.” She releases my hand but slips her arm around my waist, and I tuck her into me, leading her to a side door in the barn. It’s an interesting place for a party. I can’t say I’ve ever been to a barn dance. Hell, if my best friend, AJ, could see me now, he’d laugh his ass off, but I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. A beautiful woman under my arm. A community that’s slowly welcoming me. A gorgeous fall night outside.
In the darkness of the parking area, Tricia spins to face me and leaps. I catch her under her thighs as her mouth crashes into mine, devouring me. My hat falls back.
I chuckle against her eager lips. “What’s this, baby?”
“I need you.” The dazed look in her eyes hints at what she wants.
“Here?” I tease.
“At the house,” she whispers, her mouth returning to mine for a long, hungry kiss. I can’t take it. I’m just as desperate for her within seconds.
“Okay, baby. We’ll get there.”
Damn, I’ve never seen a woman so starved for me. Not in a lusty way but with honest desire in her eyes. The brown is almost eclipsed by green, and she licks her lips like she wants to taste me. We’ve done that, mouths exploring each other, but we haven’t crossed the line to sex. I’ve been the one holding off, worried once I enter her, I’ll never want to give her up. We’ve both been holding back a bit. I don’t know her reasons, but I know mine. It will hurt too much to let her go once she realizes I’m just some schmuck who doesn’t have his life pulled together.
I lower her to the ground and pick up my hat. Holding her hand, I lead her to my bike.
“How you feel about a ride? It’s going to be cold on those bare thighs, but I promise to get us home quick.”
“I haven’t been on one in a long time,” she tells me. I want to know more about her time on some bike but not tonight. “As long as you aren’t too quick once we’re home.”
Home. I like the sound of that, and she often calls her house by the name. Her home is my home. She’s my home, and I don’t ever want to leave. Then I catch her joke.
“Oh baby, don’t you worry. I’ll be taking all the time necessary to please you.” She stumbles next to my bike, and I chuckle. I straddle my ride and hold out a hand to help her climb on behind me.
“Here,” I say, removing my cape, as it’s dangerous on the bike. “Wrap this around you a bit but make sure it isn’t flapping anywhere.” I feel her squirming and shifting behind me, and I’m all kinds of turned on at the thought of her moving and wriggling when she is pressed against my front. As she cuddles up to my back and wraps her arms around my chest, the strangest sensa
tion comes over me.
I love this woman.
And I’m going to make love to her tonight.
When we arrive back at her place, she trembles as she gets off my bike, but the dazed look of desire in her eyes has heightened. Did she like my ride vibrating between her thighs? Will she like what we do next? Taking her hand, I lead her inside, passing all the lights left on in the living room for Lena and Lys, and head directly up the stairs to Tricia’s room. Before the door shuts at my back, she’s on me again. Up she goes, legs around my hips, arms at my neck, and I walk her to the bed. Our mouths don’t meet. We just stare at one another with hunger in our eyes.
I drop her to the mattress and follow her, leaning over her body and looking down at it. The swell of her breasts nearly pops out of her costume. The hike of her skirt is already up to her hips. The rise of her chest heightens in her eagerness for me to touch her. I fall over Tricia again, my arms forming two pillars on either side of her.
“You were wrong about yourself,” she whispers, startling me as she gazes up at me. “You’re perfection.” I snort, and her hand cups my jaw. “You’re dedicated to your sisters. You want a better life, and you’re working to achieve that on your own terms. And you’re good for me.”
I want to be perfect for her.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say instead, my voice catching on the truth. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, both inside and out. Slowly, she smiles, and I remember when I walked into the Tavern, when her eyes looked up and she smiled at me from across the room. She’s so easy to read in some ways. She wants me, and I want to truly deserve her.
“‘Foreswear it sight, for I ne’er saw such beauty till this night.’”
“Are you real?” she questions, her voice quiet.
“This is real,” I say, and she whispers my name in that way that sets my heart humming. My fingers lift and curl into the low collar of her costume, sharply tugging it downward to reveal one breast.
“Uh,” she grunts, arching her back, inviting me to take her into my mouth, which I eagerly do. She’s small, so the swell easily fits in my mouth where I suck and lap, swirling my tongue around the pointed tip and then sipping at the peaked nipple before releasing it. I roughly pull down the other side of her neckline, revealing another succulent breast, and take it inside my hungry mouth. Her back arches, and her fingertips scrape over my head.
Releasing her, I stand and remove my shirt. I want her hands on my skin. The way she caresses me reverently, it’s as if she’s memorizing each muscle . . . I love it.
I love this woman.
We may never fit in reality. She’s still tied up with that dickhead, and I have my sisters, but it isn’t going to stop me from joining us the only way two people can.
I toss up the skirt of her dress, which doesn’t have far to go because it’s so short, and I tug her panties off.
“I want you to leave these heels on,” I say, letting my palms linger over her shins and feel the strappy laces up her legs. “I’m going to leave the whole costume on when I take you, Esmeralda.”
She smiles as I roll my tongue on the name. My girl is into role-playing.
Lowering to my knees, I long to do other things with my tongue, and the first is to taste her, to prime her for what’s going to be very real between us. I want her to feel how special she is to me while letting our bodies do all the talking.
“Pretty lady, you’re already wet,” I tease, stroking my fingers over her damp folds before leaning forward for a lick.
“You . . . really know . . . how to dance.” I love how her breath hitches with each swipe over her clit, and then I rush forward, swirling my tongue around her before dipping in. I meant what I once said to her. She’s so pure, so fresh. I’m stealing her innocence. I know she’s been wrecked before, but not like this—not under my fingers, under my tongue, under my attention.
With her fingers scratching over my head, she’s close, and I want this one before I take another with my dick deep inside her. Calling out my name on a soft purr, she curls upward, holding my face between her thighs. I stand when she settles, but I can tell she’s still on the edge, and I want another orgasm from her. I quickly unbuckle my belt and tug it free from the loops, then shove my loose jeans to my hips. I don’t need them off. Not yet.
“Zorro wants to take the lady.”
She giggles until my mouth covers hers, forcing her to taste herself on my lips. My fingers slip into her, telling her more is coming. I pull back and remember we need one more thing. Standing to my full height, I tug the packet from my back pocket, then sheath myself before I return to her entrance.
“That’s important, isn’t it?” she questions, and I don’t know what she means, but I’m not about to get into a discussion about protection. I want inside her.
I press forward, breaching her, and then I can’t hold back.
“Tricia,” I warn, feeling her take me in. She’s so warm, so tight. Unable to stop myself, I thrust forward, slamming to her depths and filling her until I can’t get deeper. Her breath rushes out, and I still, taking a breath myself. The intensity of her gaze. The squeeze of her thighs. Her hands reach for my ass, holding me in place. It’s never felt like this, and I’ll never be the same after her.
“We’re going to dance,” I tell her, and I slowly pull back.
“I’ll follow you anywhere,” she whispers, and I chuckle. She can’t mean it. She means following my lead to dance.
“That what got you so hot?”
“Everything about you makes me hot,” she says. “Your smile. Your eyes. That laugh.”
I laugh, not knowing what she means, and her mouth curls into a smile in response. Damn, do I love her. Her fingertips clutch at my ass as I draw back and then surge forward. Forward and back. Her hips move with mine, greedy to follow me until her breaths start stuttering, and I know she’s close again.
“Let me have it,” I demand, and she shakes her head.
“I never . . . It never . . .”
“It’s gonna happen again. You feel it. Let me have it.” Let me have your heart. I dip my head closer to hers. “On me. Around me.” Make me yours, I want to say, but I clamp my lips. I’m already giving too much, asking too much of her, and then she squeezes, clenching around me, holding herself as close as she can to me. My name is a strangled cry of pleasure as she gives in. Her release triggers mine, and I jet off like I haven’t in years—three plus years.
As we finish, I collapse on her for a second, and her arms circle higher on me, wrapping around my back, fingers tracing over the tattoo and scar tissue she knows is there but hasn’t ever asked about. Blanketing her, I listen for her breathing and wonder if I’m crushing her, but she continues to hold me on top of her.
Does she want me as close as I want her? Can I keep someone so good? Her fingertips drawing over the puckered scar on my back tells me I shouldn’t even ask these questions. I shouldn’t wonder if a woman as decent as the one under me could ever love me.
Slowly, I press upward and pull out of her. “I’ll get you something,” I say, needing a minute to wrap my head around the emotions pinballing inside me.
When I return to the room, Tricia’s already removed her costume and seeing her naked body sitting on the edge of the bed has me instantly hard again. Her eyes hold mine as I cross the room, and she reaches out for my chest.
She’s a new Esmeralda. Her eyes match the green gem the character is named after, and she’s enticing me toward her like the tempting treasure she is.
“Again,” she whispers, and I realize I can’t deny her when I should. Before I break us both.
+ + +
Tricia falls asleep against me after round two, which was more a rushed rutting with her on her back and then me on mine. She sat astride me and took me like Victor Hugo’s Esmeralda—a sultry temptress with moves. I can’t seem to get enough of her. This woman knows what she wants from my body, and I’m willing to let her use me for it. We might not
be right for each other, but my body isn’t getting the memo. My heart isn’t either and thumps once we finish. It wants to keep her while an unsettling sensation fills my belly, and as the night wears on, I can’t sleep.
With Tricia curled into me, I realize I never heard Lys or Lena return home. My attention was definitely not on the front door, but it’s after midnight, so I decide to check on them. The second I see Lena’s empty bed, I turn and find Lys under her covers, tucked in like a child despite being so close to womanhood. My heart races as I cross the room, focused on the emptiness of the surface of Lena’s nightstand. I forcefully tug open a drawer, knowing before I look inside what I’ll find.
Nothing.
I step over to the closet and open the double doors, finding empty hangers and a clear spot among the other hanging clothes.
“Lys,” I hiss at my sleeping sister, falling to my knees beside her bed. “Lys, where is Lena?”
Lys is slow to rouse until I turn on another light and shake her more vigorously.
“Lys, where is Lena?” I don’t even try to remain quiet, raising my voice with each word. Slowly, Lys turns, eyes staring at me before glancing up at the ceiling. She blinks, searching for her bearings in the middle of the night.
“Lys, hermana, tell me where Lena is.” My voice fills with panic as I somehow know the truth before she speaks.
“I promised not to tell until tomorrow.” My youngest sister’s voice is rough with sleep. Her eyes struggle to stay open.
“It is tomorrow,” I groan, closing my eyes as my skin turns cold.
“She went home.”
“Where?” I question, although the answer should be clear.
“She went to Chicago.”
I’m on my feet before she finishes, heading to my own room in time to see Tricia standing at her bedroom door dressed in a robe.
“What’s wrong?”
“Lena left,” I grumble once inside my own room.
“Where’d she go?” Tricia’s voice is closer, but I don’t look up.