Her legs didn’t hold, but it wasn’t all bad—he twisted and caught her, that wolfish grin on his face as clear as day. “You okay?”
“Better now.”
The time of uncertainty was over. She knew exactly what she wanted to happen, and what was going to happen. All that was left was fervently hoping that those two things were the same.
He was still on the bike, but she stepped into him, straddling his left thigh. It wasn’t any closer than they’d been snuggled together on the couch, but the tension between them was so tight it almost crackled.
“You shaved,” she whispered, running her fingertips over his newly smooth jaw.
His arm around her waist tightened. “You like it?”
“Makes you look respectable.”
Billy notched his eyebrow at her and then pushed his leg up. Jenny gasped at the pressure that hit her center. Her whole body still tingled with the vibrations of the bike, but this? This went way past tingling and straight over to a kind of pain that only had her wanting more.
She ground down on him, although she didn’t consciously choose to do so. Her body, so desperate for the good old-fashioned release of an orgasm at someone else’s hands, suddenly had a mind of its own.
“Only thing is,” Billy said in a smug tone, “I’m not that respectable.”
How was it possible they were still on the bike? That he was still sitting there, looking ungodly handsome? Because, as his hands skimmed over her very bare thighs and pulled her dress up even farther, she wasn’t even sure of her own name anymore.
“Promises, promises,” she managed to get out, clutching at his nice white shirt so hard that the wrinkles might never come out.
His hands hit the edge of her panties and paused, exploring. They were a perfectly respectable pair of panties—pale pink with little brown polka dots. The fanciest pair she owned. What if they weren’t sexy enough?
He ran his fingers up under the edges—over her backside, up on her hips, then down between her legs. The only thing that stopped him was his own thigh. The one she was riding.
“I promised you one thing.” He slid his hands back—back farther, back higher, until he was palming each of her posterior cheeks underneath her panties.
Her mind spun, trying to think through the fog of want and need and desire that was making thinking very, very difficult. What had he said? She needed to remember. Then it came to her.
It would be worth the wait.
“I’m still waiting.”
A quick smile flashed across his face, but it was lost underneath a hot look of focus as he pushed her up on his leg, driving the one spot that needed so much more than a little mechanical vibrating.
She gasped again, feeling the pressure from the inside matching the pressure on the outside as he pushed her up, raised his leg and pushed her up again. The friction—oh, the friction that built between them, barely separated by the thin layer of her panties—even if Jenny had wanted to say something else, she couldn’t. She didn’t have the words. The movements were small, but the dance? The dance between them was worth it all.
The whole time, he watched her with that look of intense concentration on his face. “You’re so beautiful,” he growled at her as the pressure built and built.
His words hit something inside her that vibrated even more than the bike had. “Yeah?”
Then all coherence left her behind when he leaned down, touching his forehead to hers. “The first time I saw you at the wedding? Yeah. Oh, yeah. You were beautiful. Just like now.”
How she needed to hear that, needed to believe that. And she did.
Something inside her let go and she surrendered to the way he moved her body for her. The orgasm hit her like a car crash in slow motion, leaving her feeling like she’d been knocked flat while at the same time she crumpled onto him, panting. She could feel his fingerprints on her bottom where he was still stroking her. She’d never been so naked while still clothed before.
“No screaming?” He didn’t sound disappointed, though. In fact, he sounded downright cheerful. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.”
Everything that had gone weak with sexual relief tightened up again in anticipation. He wasn’t done with her. And, now that she thought of it, she hadn’t even gotten started with him.
Then he picked her up—lifted her straight off the ground as he slung his leg over the bike. Her legs wrapped around his waist, but it wasn’t because she was in danger of being dropped. No, he held her up as if she weighed next to nothing, all without losing his balance.
She felt the weight of his erection through his trousers, pressing hard against her very center. That was harder, all right. And she was going to have to try it. All of it.
Without another word, he carried her into the house. Jenny supposed it was a nice house, but it was dark and she couldn’t see much past Billy’s face, Billy’s lips, Billy’s shirt. She kissed his neck, his jaw, his mouth all while trying to undo the buttons on his shirt. She wanted to do all her seeing and touching at the same time.
She got about halfway down his shirt, just enough to give her a peek at the muscles and the tattoos, when he kicked open a door. The next thing she knew, she was being set down on something that felt suspiciously like a bed. A bed with silk sheets. The kind of bed she’d barely allowed herself to dream of—and now she was here with Billy.
“No pool table?” she asked as he knelt before her and peeled his jacket from her shoulders.
He threw the jacket to the side, then worked the zipper at the back of her dress. It had been a long time since anyone had undressed her, and she lost herself in the sensation of his fingers slipping down her back. All she could do was lean her head against his shoulder. When he had the dress unzipped, he slid his hands underneath the fabric and caressed her bare skin. For once, the danged goose bumps were banished by the scorching heat of his touch. Suddenly, she was hotter than she could ever remember being.
“You deserve more than a pool table.”
“Oh.”
At this, he paused and kissed her hard. “We can always play pool later.”
Oh.
He pulled the dress over her head and threw it behind him. The dress was probably beyond all hope by this time, but she didn’t care.
When the dress was gone, he said, “Where were we, from last week?” as he ran his hands up and down her back.
She lifted her legs back around his waist and pulled him closer. The weight of his erection hit her center, and a whole lot more than a shiver ran through her. As nice as that little moment in the garage had been—and it had been quite nice—it wasn’t enough. Already, she wanted more. A whole night’s worth.
“Right about here.”
“Been waiting for this all week,” Billy said, his voice so low that Jenny felt it right in her chest. He tangled his fingers in her hair. “Longer.”
“Yeah?” But that was all she got out before his mouth took hold of hers.
Jenny wasn’t going to let him have all the fun. She wanted to lose herself in his touch, but part of losing herself was touching back. So she kept at the buttons on his shirt, then the belt and his pants.
Her fingers brushed against his erection, and he groaned into her mouth before he pulled back, tilted her head and grazed his teeth down her neck. “You have protection?”
“Yeah.” He leaned over to a small nightstand and snagged a condom.
She went to undo her bra—anything to speed up this process was a good thing—but he grabbed her hands. “I want to do that.”
He leaned into her, working the clasp. She was loving the lavish, careful attention he was paying her, but she was getting darned tired of waiting. She wanted him inside her now, and each moment that didn’t happen felt like another year of celibacy.
So she did the only thing she could. She bit his shoulder. Not hard enough to break his skin, but right now she didn’t want slow and gentle or even lavish. She wanted rough and hard and Billy. She wanted the man who
’d brought her to a shaking orgasm without even getting off his bike. Now.
“Woman,” he growled and suddenly she was on her back, covered by his massive body. His shirt was open, his pants were half-off, and his boxer-briefs were straining to the point of failure.
He pressed the length of his body against her as his tongue tangled with hers. She tried to shove his shirt off, but arms and legs and the remaining clothing were all being helplessly tangled. She shifted her hips, bringing her center in line with his erection, but they still had on too much fabric. “I need you—all of you,” she told him while trying to hook her foot into the waistband of his pants so she could kick them off.
He stood back, shucking his shirt and his pants in two blissfully quick moments. Then he removed his boxer-briefs, and she saw.
“Wow” was all she could say.
Back when she’d been young and crazy and sleeping around the rez, she’d been sleeping with boys. For the first time, she saw exactly what sleeping with a man looked like. The difference was measureable—in inches.
His grin held nothing but the promise of what was to come next. Then he pulled her panties off. The bra came next, and he rolled on the condom.
Thank goodness, she thought as he climbed back into bed. The weight between her legs was more than heavy—it positively ached. She spread herself as wide as she could for him, but then he did something unexpected. He turned on the light, rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him.
“I want to watch you.”
She swallowed, feeling self-conscious. “Um…”
But he kept running his fingers over her breasts, her hips, her thighs—all places that she worried about, all places that weren’t perfect. His fingertips skimmed the low part of her belly that still sported faint stretch marks after all these years. The whole while, his hips were moving under hers. The huge length of him pressed against her, awakening her to all sorts of wonderful feelings—feelings that weren’t necessarily new, but weren’t familiar, either. Instead of the hard, pressing want that Billy had sparked outside in his garage, this was a slow, almost languid heat—wet and warm and hard.
“Just when I think you can’t get any more beautiful,” he said as he sighed.
Jenny felt herself relax. “It’s been a long time….” A long time since she’d felt pretty—since someone had thought she was pretty. She settled, feeling the pressure of him on the outside of her body. It wasn’t enough—this slow, sensual pace. She raised herself and felt him spring up. Then, slowly, she let herself fall onto him.
He filled her and more, but she was able to take him in. Once she’d completely settled, she paused, savoring the feeling. She needed this, needed him, but she didn’t want the frenzied, jackrabbit sex she’d had so long ago. She was in bed with a man. She wanted to appreciate the differences.
Billy let her rest, adjusting to his girth while he cupped both of her breasts in his hands. “You feel good.” His fingers tweaked her nipples, which earned him a small gasp. “You like that?”
She nodded, biting her lip. So he did it again. Harder.
This time, the jolt hit her so hard that she had to rise and fall. Suddenly, he sat up in bed and took her left nipple in his mouth. “Don’t stop, woman,” he groaned against her skin. Then he scraped his teeth over her flesh and rolled her nipple between his teeth and his tongue and tweaked the other nipple with his hand and she was riding him. Oh, how she was riding him.
She’d wanted him, wanted to dance with him, since that first afternoon in the shop—the first time she’d seen that there was something underneath the scowl and the leather, something deeper, something good.
Billy’s hands slipped down her backside as he licked her other nipple. His hands traced where he’d held her against him earlier, then he was pushing her again—up, down, back, forth—pushing her higher and higher. Her breath caught, then he dragged his teeth against her again.
As the climax unleashed itself on her, she cried out, “Billy!”
Suddenly he thrust harder and harder, taking her almost to the breaking point before he let out a low roar and fell back onto the bed. His hands didn’t leave her, though. Instead, they kept right on stroking her back, her legs, her waist—he traced every inch of her body as she pulled herself free and collapsed next to him.
“Like I told you,” Billy said, sounding breathless. It gave her a good feeling—she’d made him just as breathless as he’d made her. “I’m not that respectable.”
Jenny pushed herself up and looked him in the eye. “Respectability,” she whispered, stretching out against his body and loving the way his arm automatically went around her waist, “is overrated.”
Fifteen
Jenny went to get cleaned up and Billy took care of the condom. Man, he thought to himself over and over. He’d been afraid that, after the weeks-long buildup, sex with Jenny wouldn’t live up to the expectation. He’d never been more wrong.
He straightened out the sheets and got the pillows lined up. As great as that had been, he’d only had her home for about forty-five minutes. He still had her for the whole night. And a long morning.
Almost nine grand. He had no idea who Josey had been bidding against—but it had been someone who’d been freaking serious about it. Bobby hadn’t thought he’d go for much more than four or five, tops. But almost nine? Yeah—he was keeping Jenny here for as long as he wanted.
As long as she wanted, that was. Already, he was hardening thinking about the way her warm wetness had taken him in, the way she’d moaned and then cried out his name. The way she’d looked, her breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust.
He shook his head, checking to see if it was on straight. She’d said it herself—it’d been a long time. Even though she’d been able to handle him, she would probably need more than ten minutes of recovery time.
But the image of all her curves wouldn’t be banished. Would twenty minutes be enough?
To distract himself, he hung up his jacket and tried to shake out her dress. The thing was a crumpled mess, though. Then the bathroom door opened and he spun to see her backlit with the bathroom light. The sight of her, nude, in his room had him hard all over again. Man, she was so much more than he’d hoped. For such a small woman, she packed a hell of a punch.
“I think your dress is ruined,” he said, trying to think about anything but the way the light shined between her legs as she walked over to him, making the V of hair covering her sex glow like a sunset. Didn’t work. “I’ll buy you another one.”
“Can’t think of anywhere I’d wear it.” Her voice had that low, teasing tone that made his brain misfire.
“I’ll take you someplace fancy.”
The dress fell to the ground, forgotten again. “You look amazing,” he managed to get out. And she did. As sweet as she looked when she was being a teacher and as glamorous as she’d looked tonight, nothing beat her in all of her glorious, nude beauty.
At this, her playfulness took a more anxious turn and she tried to cross her arms in front of those amazing breasts, only to appear to change her mind and try to cover up her lower parts.
“No, don’t.” He closed the distance between them and took her wrists in his hands. “Don’t hide from me.”
She was such a little thing—barely came up to his chest. Which was where she was looking now, right at the rose over his heart. When she pulled her hand away, he let her. “If we’re not hiding, is this the part where I get to see your tattoos?” Her fingers traced the outline of the rose.
Billy swallowed. Sure, people knew he had tattoos—hard not to. People knew he had this tattoo, in fact. But no one knew what this tattoo represented, what all of them meant. Men—including his brothers—didn’t ask. They just said, “Nice tats, man!” and left it at that. A few women had asked over the years but Billy had never wanted to tell those women what his skin meant. So he’d made up crap—the rose was for his mom or whatever sounded good at the time.
This? This was different
. He didn’t want to lie to her.
So he sucked it up. “Yup.”
It was worth it to watch the greedy light in her eyes, worth it when she turned him and pointed him to the bed. “Go.”
That’s where he wanted her, anyway. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe they’d get through the tattoos and get back to more sex real quick.
“Yes, ma’am.” And it was totally worth it when she smacked him on the butt.
He sat down on the bed, but she shook her head at him. With her hands on her hips, she looked exactly like she did during daylight hours—scolding and irritated but with that trace of playfulness underneath. “On your stomach, please.”
Billy complied, sprawling out on his belly. He felt the bed give under her weight as she climbed over his legs, shivered as her hand skimmed over his butt. She grabbed a handful of cheek and squeezed. She was going to kill him.
Her laugh was light and airy—not afraid of him or his ink. He felt something inside him unclench.
She moved—and suddenly she was straddling him. “No tattoos here?” He could feel each one of her fingertips cutting a path over his butt.
His erection strained against the bed, but it hadn’t been twenty minutes yet, and she wasn’t done looking. “I’ve got a few ideas, but nothing I’m going to drop trou for.”
“I see.” Then she was running her hands over the swath of black that made up his lower back before it exploded into a tornado of blackbirds that flew free up and over his shoulders. “This is truly impressive, Billy.”
“One of a kind.” She wasn’t just touching him—that would have been torture enough. But she’d scooted up a little, and he could feel the warmth of her body where she was sitting on his backside. All he’d have to do would be to turn over and he could be inside her. The need to do that was so strong that it took him a moment to realize he’d still have to fish a condom out of the nightstand drawer. Damn it. Instead, he fisted the sheets and tried to breathe.
A soft fingertip touched each bird. “What does it mean?”
Bringing Home the Bachelor Page 13