Something to Talk About

by Dakota Cassidy

  “Tell me to stop and I will,” he ground out, his cock so hard, all he could think about was being inside her.

  Her eyes were wide, but they stared straight at him—blue—full of questions—but perfect, so fucking perfect. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, like she didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but was willing to take the ride anyway.

  Jax yanked her skirt up over her hips, grateful for her wispy panties—they made it easier to rip them and drop them on the floor. He walked backward until she was up against the wall, until his hand was in her wet-hot pussy, touching, sliding, thumbing her clit.

  Her gasp, that little sound she made that was a hitch of breath and a shudder, drove him crazy.

  Em’s arms went around his neck, her lips, soft and full, crashed against his, her chest pumped hard, pushing her breasts against his shirt. “Condom?”

  “Wallet,” he rasped, letting her wiggle her fingers into his back pocket and pull it out. She dropped it between them and he fumbled for it, managing to locate it while Em busied herself with his belt buckle and zipper.

  She pushed his pants down over his hips, taking his boxer-briefs with it, and then her fingers were circling his length, grasping it and twisting her hand up and down until he had to make her stop before he came right there.

  No. He wanted to be in her wet pussy, drive into her hard, so he’d drive her out of his head. “Enough,” he demanded, shoving her hands away and replacing them with the condom while she clung to his shoulders and waist.

  “Hold on to me,” was all he could manage from his tightly clenched jaw with the tip of his cock so close to all that heat.

  Em did as instructed, putting her arms around his neck, still looking him square in the eye. But she wasn’t asking questions now. Now she had the same look in her eyes he imagined he had in his—like they were going into battle and the first one to come won.

  Christ, she was so damn sexy, Jax didn’t think anymore, he reacted by driving upward, jarring her slender body with the force of his first stroke. He tightened his stance, planting his feet firmly on the floor and drove into her hard again.

  So damn tight, Em was tight and wet and she fit his cock like a hot glove, surrounding him with her slickness.

  Jax cupped her ass with one hand and slammed a palm against the wall with the other in order to get the proper leverage. Em responded by tightening her legs around his waist, squeezing him so tight, he’d come in a split second if he wasn’t getting better at keeping his focus.

  Which was to fuck her ruthless, remind himself this was just some sex with a hot woman. Her soft whimper meant she was close—he knew it now—craved the sound slipping from her throat.

  Upward again, a tighter thrust into all that silken pussy he just wanted to lose himself in. Over and over until Em hissed in his ear, circled her hips one last time before she gasped and stiffened.

  Her eyes were closed now, her head falling back against the wall, her creamy white throat a long column he pressed his lips against when he came, too. The sting of it, the sharpness of it tightened his chest, made his muscles curve and flex like an archer’s bow.

  Jax sagged against Em while he came to terms with what he’d just done, cradling her, smoothing his hands over her back, striving to catch his breath.

  Damn. He’d been rough. He’d taken his crap out on her.

  “Did we just have angry sex?” she asked, her lips against his neck.

  Jax’s head popped up to see her smiling. “Yeah, but I wasn’t angry with you. I shouldn’t have—”

  Em’s fingers went to his lips and she shook her head. “No. Don’t explain, please. Now I can check another thing off my list.”

  “Your list?”

  “Uh-huh. I’ve never had angry sex before. That was incredible.”

  Now he shook his head. This woman. He’d just taken his bad day out on her and she was checking things off her sexual to-do list? “I was wrong to—”

  Her fingers were back on his lips. “No. Not another word. I don’t know why you were angry, but it doesn’t matter. And it’s not like you forced me, Jax. You did ask. I said yes,” she said, her grin smug and impish at the same time.

  “You’ve never had angry sex?”

  Her eyes squinted while she thought about his question. Jesus, she was adorable. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve been angry, yes. But it wasn’t in the heat of the moment. The argument was usually long done and I was just holding a secret grudge. So, no. I’ve never had angry sex like that. That was passionate, and spontaneous, and awesome.”

  He wanted to tell her he’d have angry sex with her anytime she wanted. He wanted to tell her how much he’d missed her. Instead, he smoothed the back of her hair down. “So that means you’ve never had makeup sex, either.”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, then. Wanna fight?” he joked, kissing her irresistible lips

  Realization hit her as the voices of the other women and the sounds of the office began to filter back between them, and Em was all business. “What have you made me do?”

  He gave her his best guilty look, reaching behind her to pick a paint chip from her hair. “But you just said I didn’t make you.”

  She slapped at his chest, pushing at him to let her down. “You know what I mean, Jax Hawthorne. We’re at work! How am I ever going to get out of here with an office full of people out there? Oh, gravy. What if they heard us, you sex maniac?”

  He loved when she went all bossy and professional on him. He kissed the tip of her nose while pulling up his pants. “You’re right. I’m a disgusting heathen. I’ll create a distraction, you slip out, okay?”

  Despite the fact that she was clearly annoyed with him, she giggled, smoothing her skirt back down over her thighs. She waved a finger under his nose, her eyes glittering and playful. “It better be good, Mr. Hawthorne. If someone’s out there, you’d better give the best, red-carpet-worthy performance of your life. Now go. And hurry up—I have a Skype meeting with our accountant.”

  Jax grabbed her finger and brought it to his lips. “So, tonight?”

  She rolled her eyes while she slipped her lost shoe on. “Tonight, what?”

  “Makeup sex. You’re angry with me now. We have to make up, right? Isn’t that on your list?”

  She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his lips. “Fine, fine. Tonight. Now hurry!”

  He chuckled to himself when he popped the door open. Mostly because he’d gotten his way. A quick scan of the hall said it was all good. Turning back to her, he said, “Coast is clear.”

  She gave him one last warning glance that said it better be, and slipped past him out into the hall, leaving the scent of pears in his nose.

  Jax chuckled again at the sight of her cute ass sashaying down the hall to her own office.

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her the zipper on the back of her skirt was still unzipped.

  * * *

  Em sipped her coffee, pushing her grilled chicken around on her plate with disinterest.

  “So, what’s new?” Dixie asked.

  “Not much.”

  Dixie grabbed the fork in Em’s hand and stilled her motion. “Are we having dinner, or are you, me and Jax’s lingering memory having dinner?”

  Em’s eyes met Dixie’s. Almost. It was sort of eye contact but not a total immersion gaze. She was getting so good at it. “I don’t know what you mean.” She studied her plate.

  “You do know what I mean. I mean, accordin’ to those who gossip, Jax was taking you and the kids out for macaroni and cheese right after you spit in Louella Palmer’s eye in the school yard.”

  “I didn’t spit in her eye.” She’d wanted to when she’d seen him talking to her through the window of his car at the school. She’d wanted to pull her hair out, knock her on the gro
und, steal her shoes. But she hadn’t because it was none of her beeswax who he talked to.

  “You might as well have, according to all Plum Orchard reports.”

  Em dropped her fork and threw her napkin on the plate. “You know, for someone who was a victim of all the cruel gossip this town dishes up, you certainly hear a lot of it, don’t you?”

  Dixie gave her a wide-eyed innocent look. “I don’t do it on purpose. I do it so I can keep track of you, seein’ as you don’t want anyone to know what you’re doing. I have to look out for you somehow. Even if it’s through the gossip mill. Besides, who can ignore Louella Palmer and her Southern henchwomen? The woman has a voice like a bullfrog.”

  Em laughed, loosening up a little. Her guilt for not sharing her “Em and Jax Exploits” with Dixie was making her tense and nervous. Dixie was her best friend. She’d probably know how to deal with all these feelings Jax was making her feel. Feelings she neither wanted nor had asked for.

  But she knew what Dixie’s answer would be. Em wasn’t the fling type. She was the keeper type. She’d end up hurt.

  With all of these new feelings cropping up for Jax, she was beginning to wonder if the speech she’d get from Dixie and the girls was accurate.

  “So, did you spit in Louella’s eye?”

  “I didn’t spit in Louella’s eye. Not literally. But you’d be so proud to know, I did kick up a heel when he escorted me off that curb.”

  Dixie’s hands went to her chest. “Look at my little girl all grown-up. Now answer the question.”

  “I just played along with Jax. He obviously doesn’t like Louella, though I don’t know why. He was trying to get away from her. I was his getaway car. Nothing more.”

  “Because she did something horrible to you, and he saw it unfold before his very eyes. That’s why he doesn’t like her.”

  “That’s silly. He hardly knows me. Why would he take up for me?” Mostly true. He knew her body. He knew how to make her come longer and louder than she ever had before. But he didn’t know her.

  Dixie let her head fall to the Formica table in a dramatic drop. “How long do you suppose you’re going to keep skirtin’ the truth with half-truths, Em? Because I’m exhausted from the subterfuge,” she said, resting a cheek on the table.

  Em stroked Dixie’s hair and totally ignored her question. “I have to go.”

  Dixie’s head snapped up. “Where?”

  “Home.”

  “So soon?”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I’m ditching you so I can have amazing sex, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last. I can’t miss this boat.

  “But it’s date night.”

  “Dora’s sick. I have to go check on her, and Clifton Junior forgot his science project on the counter. I have to drop it off to him at Idalee’s.” And I have to hurry if I hope to shower and find something sexy to wear.

  Dixie hauled her purse from the corner of the booth. “Then I’ll go with.”

  “No!”

  Dixie’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  Look away from the light of Dixie, Em! Do it now or you’re sunk. She’ll wring your slutty right outta you. “Because...”

  “Because why, Emmaline?”

  “Because she’s sneakin’ off to see her boyfriend she doesn’t want anyone to know about, just like her mama did,” Louella Palmer said, loud enough to be heard by the entire diner.

  Em stiffened. Like her mother did? “My mother?”

  Louella winked. “So, what do the boys have to say about their replacement daddy?”

  Em’s head whirled—as she tried to figure out how much Louella knew about Jax. Surely she couldn’t know the truth? It was all just speculation on Louella’s part after the school incident. Wasn’t it? Louella was just baiting her—testing to see if she’d crack and spill the torrid details. She was no good at the kinds of games Louella played. You never knew if she had something on you she was going to share in the most humiliating manner possible, or if she was just bluffing.

  Em slid out of the booth, towering over petite Louella. “I guess sneakin’ off to see any kind of boyfriend is better than having none at all, isn’t it?” Then she smiled—pretty—innocent, just like Dixie had taught her.

  Dixie shoved her way out of the booth and stepped in front of Em. “Go home to your spinster apartment and do spinster things, Louella. Don’t you have a shawl to knit? You’ll need it for all those pendin’ nights, rocking on a porch while all your cats snuggle at your feet.”

  “I see I’ve hit a nerve.” Louella responded in kind with a smile.

  “Hah! Silly Louella. You mistake me for one of your amateur prey. Lest you forget,” Dixie warned, “I’m the queen of this cat-and-mouse chase, and if you don’t take your insinuations and stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, that plastic surgeon you saw for your rhinoplasty won’t be the last surgeon on your dance card.”

  Louella budged first. It was a small twitch, but noticeable enough to concede she’d lost this round. “Are you suggesting violence?”

  Dixie cracked her knuckles. “You bet I am. And another thing, if you don’t hush your mouth and stop fuelin’ the talk about Clifton Senior, if I hear one more time one of Em’s boys has gotten into a fistfight because you really don’t care who you hurt in your pathetic attempt to pay me back for stealin’ your man—even small children—I’m comin’ for you.”

  As always, when Louella and Dixie were in the same room, and there were witnesses, a buzz began. An uncomfortable one. One Em didn’t want. It put an ugly spotlight on her and her recent situation she’d rather not have.

  But Louella was apparently feeling sassy tonight. “Will you teach me the ways of the reformed, Dixie? Learn me how to be a good person, maybe? Make me see Jesus?”

  Dixie gasped—loud and long for dramatic effect. “Did you just use the Lord’s name and yours in the same sentence? Louella Palmer, you should know better than to use His name in vain—especially when associated with you.”

  Em grabbed Dixie’s arm. “Let’s go. Right this minute. Everyone is staring.” And remembering the picture of Clifton as Trixie. And the shock on her face when she saw it. And it was like reliving that night over and over.

  Dixie shrugged her off and faced the scattered tables, her face angry and red. Dixie was hard to ruffle, and much harder to anger these days, but Louella had gone for the throat. Dixie never stood by and watched that. “No, Em! If you haven’t had enough, I surely have. This stops now. Right now.”

  Dixie moved around her, spry in her pumpkin-colored heels, and grabbed a glass from a nearby table, clanging a spoon against it.

  “Listen up, people of Plum Orchard! That means you, too, Nanette Pruitt.” She pointed an accusatory finger toward the older woman. “Y’all better hear me loud and clear when I say, mind your business, you bunch of gossiping know-it-alls! You’ve involved the well-being of children. Children I love, with your hushed whispers and gutter minds. Your cruel chatter has trickled down to your children who’re passin’ it on. Shame on all of you for perpetuatin’ that kind of behavior, for teaching your children to be mean little monsters just like the lot of you! If you wanna talk, talk about me. Talk about how I’ll take my dirty little business right on out of this town and you’ll rue the day you didn’t heed my words. Because you know what goes with me when I go? Landon’s money! Who’s going to pay for your fancy exit off the highway then? Will it be you, Louella Palmer? Do you get paid for all the shootin’ off your mouth you do? Because it’s the only way you’d come close to making the kind of money I pour into this godforsaken town!”

  “Dixie!” Em whisper-yelled. She hated confrontation. She hated that there had to be a confrontation at all. She hated that she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

  She hated even more that in th
e middle of Dixie’s rant, while everyone was staring at her, Jax had slipped inside Madge’s.

  Fifteen

  Em’s cheeks were hot, her blood was boiling and if she put her hand to her brow, she’d probably find beads of sweat on it. “Dixie Davis, if you don’t stop now, I’ll never speak to you again.” Pivoting on her heel, she lifted her chin, avoided Jax’s eyes and walked out of Madge’s to the tune of the harsh clack of her shoes, echoing in the astonished silence.

  The cold air rushed at her, cooling her cheeks or the tears that stung the corners of her eyes. They were hot and seeping out with a will of their own.

  Why couldn’t Dixie just let her sweep this under the carpet? The more attention she gave it, the more it grew out of control. Clifton Senior had been gone plenty long by now, but because nothing more exciting than finding out he was a cross-dresser had happened in Plum Orchard since then, she was the latest target.

  Worse, why hadn’t she been the one to have the angry outburst? Why was she always quieting the part of her that was outraged by the horrible things they were saying about her? Because she hated to make a scene. She’d been taught not to make a scene. At all costs, stay out of the fray.

  She’d been in the middle of plenty of humiliating situations since high school, and she hated that she’d never found a voice big enough to tell everyone what Dixie had just told them for her. Hated that she was even too yellow to stand up for, at the very least, her children.

  A hand came to rest at her back. A large one. Warm and wide, it spanned part of her waist and made her want things she didn’t want to want right now.

  Jax.

  Exactly what she didn’t need. “Please don’t.” Please, please, please don’t pity me.

  “Can I help?”

  “You coming after me in front of everyone doesn’t help.” She glared up at the twinkling lights in the tree of the square and prayed no one was looking.

  “I was just grabbing some burgers.” He held up a bag.

  “Then take your burgers and go home.”