“Gladly.” This time she hooked the towel around his neck and tugged him closer, her mouth snaring his in a steamy kiss.
When Dalton emitted that sexy rumble in the back of his throat, she broke the kiss with a quick laugh.
“You feelin’ ornery, Aurora?” he whispered in her ear. “’Cause I’ve got a cure for that.”
“So do I, but it’ll cost ya.”
He leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Whatcha got in mind?”
“How long were you skulking in the back watching me dance?”
“Skulking,” he snorted. “The damn door was open. And sugarplum, your ass is like a goddamned beacon for me. I started watching it and couldn’t look away.”
“Aw, such a sweet-talker.” Rory slid her hands up his chest. “You like the way I dance, cowboy?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She twisted her fingers in the damp tendrils on the back of his neck. “Remember that night I picked you up after the bachelor party and you asked if I’d give you a lap dance?”
“Vaguely. Why?”
“Then when we were in Deadwood and you were Mr. High Roller, begging me to give you a lap dance, peeling twenty dollar bills off the stack of cash saying, ‘I make it rain, I make it rain, I make it rain’?”
Dalton grinned. “All in good fun.”
“I know.” Rory pressed her body to his. “Well, I’m in the mood to give you that lap dance tonight. But like I said, it’s gonna cost ya.”
“I’ll pay it.”
She cocked her head. “Just like that? Without asking the price or the parameters?”
“Parameters?” His eyes narrowed. “Lap dances don’t have parameters except for no touching.”
“My lap dance has parameters ’cause it’s not your money I’m after, McKay.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Your soul.” Rory laughed at his skeptical look. “Kidding.”
He clamped his hand on her ass and pulled her closer yet. He angled his head and placed one soft kiss below her ear. “You want my soul? It’s yours. Since you’ve already got my heart.”
Oh, you suck, Dalton McKay, with your sweetness and fire and always knowing the perfect thing to say, and how the hell was I ever supposed to resist falling for you?
“You were saying,” he murmured against her throat. “What parameters were you talkin’ about?”
“You have to be naked.”
“Ah, Rory darlin’, that ain’t how lap dances work.”
“My parameters, remember? If I can get you off during the lap dance, without using my hands on your…pole, then you’ll agree to be my sex slave for two hours.”
“What if you can’t get me off? What’s my reward?”
Uh, yeah, Dalton wouldn’t be able to hold off. No way, no how. Rory fought a cocky smile. “Then you get to do anything you want to me. Except for demanding a threesome. Not into that. Ever.”
“Never happening, because no one—” he got right in her face, “—and I mean no one, ever gets to put their fucking hands on you but me. Understand?”
Holy balls. Talk about intense. Talk about possessive.
Talk about hot.
“Do you understand?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He relaxed. “There’s gotta be a time limit to this lap dance.”
“Shoot. Thought you might not remember to ask about that. Five songs.”
Dalton shook his head. “Two songs.”
“Four songs.”
“Nope. Two songs.”
“Three songs.”
“Three songs no more than nine minutes total.”
She smiled. “Deal.” She kissed him. “I’ll follow you home.”
“Lemme grab a quick shower here first—”
“No. I’m not gonna shower either. I like your scent after you’ve been working out.” She turned her head and let her tongue follow the ridge of his biceps, licking the salt from his skin. “I like how you taste after you’ve been working out.”
Dalton made that growling noise again.
“On second thought…I’ll race ya.” She pecked him on the mouth and practically skipped out of the gym.
But somehow, Rory still didn’t beat him to his place.
Inside, Dalton leaned against the breakfast bar separating the living room and kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest.
Poor man wore a scowl. She dropped her coat, kicked off her shoes and moved to stand in front of him. “You’re supposed to be looking forward to this, Dalton, not like you’re about to face a firing squad.”
That brought out his sexy wicked grin. “Trust me, baby, I’m all about this lap dance. Just thinking about what I’m gonna demand from you.”
“Putting the cart before the horse, ain’t ya, cowboy?”
He laughed and smooched her nose.
“You get the chair and I’ll plug in my iPod.”
“Where’s the chair gonna go?”
“Living room. You might wanna move the coffee table.”
Rory scrolled through her song list and selected her seductive tunes. Then she plugged her iPod into the audio system and turned around.
The straight-backed dining room chair sat where the coffee table usually did. Dalton curled his hands over the top of it. “Now what?”
“I’d tell you to strip, but I wanna help you do that.”
His eyes turned suspicious.
“Relax. If you don’t like something I do…tell me to stop.”
He snorted. “You have got to be kiddin’ me.”
“No sir.”
“Start the music.”
“This doesn’t count as part of the lap dance. Stand still so I can strip you.” Rory slipped her fingers beneath the bottom edge of his tank top and began to pull it up. When the material cleared his nipples, she gave each flat disk a kiss. Then a lick. Then a suck.
“Rory.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
She jerked the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She planted kisses down the center of his torso as she lowered herself to her knees. Hooking his gaze, she mouthed his cock, which was already hard—big surprise—through the material.
“Rory!”
“What?”
“Stop.”
She sighed. “All right.” Hooking her fingers in the stretchy waistband, she slowly tugged the shorts down, watching as the tip of his cock bounced against his lower belly. He hadn’t worn a jockstrap.
“Word of advice, sugarplum? You frowning at my dick ain’t instilling any confidence in me.”
Her eyes met his. “Sorry. Just wondering if you ever wear a jockstrap or a cup when you’re working out?”
“Jesus. Really?”
“Yeah, why? Is that a weird question? Because I seriously don’t know about these man things—no dad growing up, remember? And since your body is so buff, that means you work out a lot, so I just wondered.”
“Such a curious kitty. Yeah, sometimes I wear a jock. Depends on what I’m doin’ in the gym and what workout shorts I’m wearing.” He ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “Satisfied?”
“Yep. But sometime, I wanna see you model them. I’d probably really love how the straps frame this tight little ass of yours.” Rory yanked his shorts to his ankles and licked his shaft from root to tip before opening her lips and swallowing him.
And releasing him.
And swallowing him.
She did that about five times before his big head overruled his little head.
Dalton clamped his hand on her jaw and pulled her off.
Very, very slowly she might add, but hey, who was keeping track?
She was, heh heh heh. Rory ahead by giving head, one to zero.
“Back. Away. From. My. Cock.”
“Never thought I’d hear you say that, big guy.”
He groaned.
Rory rolled to her feet and pointed to the chair. “Get comfy.”
Da
lton grabbed a throw pillow off the couch and plopped it on the seat before he sat. “What?” he said defensively at her questioning look. “The seat is wood, you’re gonna be bouncing on my lap and I don’t want my balls to get pinched.”
“Poor balls. I could kiss ’em and make ’em better?” she cooed.
“You’re gonna be doin’ that anyway when I win this lap dance off.” He threw his arms wide. “Bring it on, baby.”
“Hands by your sides, baby, and no touching, remember?” Rory pulled the elastic band, freeing her hair from the ponytail. Shaking it loose so the soft strands swished across his face. Then she peeled off her T-shirt and ditched her sports bra. She kicked her feet out and stretched, keeping her ass right in front of him, knowing he could see her tits swaying as she loosened her muscles.
He cleared his throat. “Topless ain’t fair, Rory.”
“Aw, it’s so cute how you think that’ll matter. Because you’re goin’ down.” She looked over her shoulder at him and smirked. “Literally. You’re gonna go down on me for two hours straight after I win this lap dance.”
“Be a little hard for me to have my mouth on your pussy when my dick is gonna be buried in your sweet ass when I win.”
She laughed and leaned over to turn on her iPod.
The first strains of Santana’s “Smooth” drifted through the speakers and Rory started out with her back to him. Arms above her head. Ass swishing over his crotch, the end of her hair teasing his chest. She ground down on him a little harder each time. Feeling that hard cock twitching and jerking against the lower curve of her butt cheeks.
Dalton’s heavy breathing echoed to her even over the sounds of the music.
A wave of want rolled through her. Yes, she wanted to win this contest, but mostly because she wanted to know that she—the way she moved, the way she teased him—turned him on as much as her mouth or her hand on his cock. She loved the byplay between them. The tension in his body. The heat in his eyes. All for her.
He groaned when she cupped her own breasts. And arched her back against his chest.
Then Rory sat on his right thigh and placed her hands flat on the floor, dragging her pussy up and down that rigid muscle. The cant of her hips showcased her ass. She arched and rolled like a cat, each pass making her pussy wet and her nipples harder. She stood and pressed her butt against his chest as she leaned into a forward bend with her hands around his shins.
“Holy hell, you’re flexible.”
“All the better to use my body to twist you into knots.” Rory mounted his other leg and rolled and shimmied. Her hair swinging, her booty bouncing, sweat started to bead on her skin.
His deep voice cut through her concentration. “I can feel how hot and wet your cunt is. Let me touch you and bring you off.”
“Tempting, cowboy, but I’ve only just started. I’m gonna get a lot wetter and a lot hotter in the next two songs.”
The music ended.
Rory spun around and pressed her pussy against his shaft when the next song started. The chair’s low proximity to the ground allowed her to raise and lower herself easily, so she kept constant pressure on Dalton’s cock as she moved up and down. And the extra bonus? With her hands on those broad shoulders of his for balance, her tits were in his face. Right in his face.
The sneaky man tried to move his head back, out of range, but she just moved her hands to the back of his neck and held him in place.
“You’re killin’ me.”
“That’s the plan.” She slowed and shifted her hips side to side instead of up and down.
His belly muscles quivered. His arms were stiff by his side, probably because he was clenching his fists.
Then a wet, warm tongue lashed the side of her breast and circled her nipple.
Rory stopped mid-grind. “Hey. Keep your mouth to yourself, buddy.”
“No. God, I love your tits.” Dalton kept his eyes locked to hers as he enclosed her nipple in his hot mouth and sucked hard.
“Dalton! What are you doing? You oughta lose by default.”
Dalton licked and sucked and growled against her flesh. “So indignant and bossy. And yet, you’re not getting these hard nipples outta my face.”
Of course he’d noticed that. She slid her palms to his cheeks and tipped his head back. “Stop.”
“No. You said no touching with my hands. You didn’t say a damn thing about not usin’ my mouth.”
“That was assumed.”
“Not by me. But whatever. Unless you’re—” his eyes gleamed and he flashed his pearly whites, “—afraid that my mouth on you is too big a distraction?”
Cocky man. Rory brought her nipple right up to his lips and said, “Have at.”
Someplace in the foggy haze of being face to face, chest to chest and groin to groin with him, so close she could smell his skin, feel his heartbeat, she realized she’d sort of lost control of the situation.
But if she retreated now, forcing him to stop the delicious assault on her breasts, Dalton would think she was backing off because she was losing.
Hell. No.
Rory writhed against him more forcefully. Faster. Pumping her pelvis in time to the crescendo of the music. If she kept up this pace much longer, she’d be coming, not Dalton. Especially if he used his teeth on her neck. Right. There.
Not fair. The sneaky man had abandoned her nipples for her neck, completely aware that made her lose any coherent train of thought.
Needing a breather, she stopped and slid back until she balanced on his knees.
The music changed again.
Dammit. She had three minutes left to make him come. She wanted this victory.
But as Rory stared into Dalton’s gorgeous face, seeing those beautifully expressive eyes and the secret way he was smiling at her, she understood they’d both won.
The sultry sounds of Faith Hill singing “Breathe” flowed through the room.
Dalton’s eyes were on her as he reached up to curl his hand on her neck. He stroked her jawline with the edge of his thumb. “I remember this song.”
“You do?”
“We danced to this at Keely’s wedding. The way you wrapped yourself around me, and how your head just seemed to fit perfectly on my shoulder, I never wanted that song to end.”
“It was one of those moments,” she said softly. A perfect moment.
“Aurora, you’re beautiful, you’re sexy, you just gave me the best goddamned lap dance I’ve ever had, but can we be done with this now, please?”
“Call it a draw?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, yes.”
Dalton picked her up, took her down to the floor, stripped her yoga pants off and impaled her.
The sweetness of their conversation didn’t translate to sweet lovemaking. He pounded into her. Hot, sweaty and hard. Demanding. Clasping her right hand in his left, he pinned it above their heads. Pulling her left leg up high, around his hip, opening her fully so every time he thrust, his pelvis connected with her clit.
She gasped. Instead of waiting for that gradual buildup and the explosion, she felt as if this connection was one long body-shuddering orgasm.
“That’s it. I love seein’ you like this.”
“Dalton, I… It’s too much.”
“No. It’s perfect. So close, baby. Bring me with you.”
Rory arched up and tightened her cunt muscles around his pistoning shaft. One long hot kiss later and they hit the detonation point together.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brandt and Tell were sitting in Tell’s favorite booth when Dalton dragged himself into the Golden Boot.
“Hey.” He shucked his duster and hung it on the wall hook before taking his spot on Brandt’s right side. He noticed they’d ordered beer for themselves but not for him. “You got another round comin’? Or am I buying my own beer tonight?”
“We weren’t sure what you were drinkin’ these days.”
“Cheap beer, same as always.” Dalton gestured to the bar
tender for a round. Then his gaze moved from Brandt to Tell. They’d both cleaned up and wore nonworking clothes. The old Dalton would’ve made a sneering remark about them dressing up to please their wives, but he let it lie. “So what’s up?”
“What makes you think something’s up?” Brandt asked evenly.
“It’s a Thursday night. You guys are both getting kids to bed and stuff during the week. I usually see you on the weekends.”
“Not lately, bro. You’ve been spending all your weekends with Rory.”
“And most weeknights,” Tell added. “We asked you out last week, but you had plans.”
“Rielle invited us over for supper. First time she’s acknowledged me’n Rory are involved, so it was kind of a big deal.” He didn’t know why Rory’s mom intimidated the hell out of him; she just did, which was ridiculous because the woman was the same size as a garden sprite. But her love for Rory—holy shit, talk about fierce. No doubt if Dalton somehow wronged her baby girl, she’d just bury him in her garden and no one would ever know the difference.
“So you’re not avoiding us?”
“No.”
“Just certain family members?” Brandt asked.
Meaning Casper. Maybe he oughta just buck up and tell them the truth so they could be done with this.
Lettie brought the beer to the table, mostly so she could flirt with Tell. Tell gave it right back to her in a way that had both Dalton and Brandt laughing.
Dalton took a drink of beer and settled into the booth. “How long’s it been since you guys hung out here?”
“Me’n Georgia used to come here all the time. No surprise Jackson’s arrival into our lives cut our bar time short. But we meet up with the gang at least once a month.”
“Hitting the bars never was me’n Jess’s thing, so it’s been a while for me.” Brandt looked around. “Nothin’ ever changes in here, does it?”
“Yeah, well, not all change is good,” Tell said.
Dalton decided to tackle that statement head on. “Hard not to feel that was directed at me, Tell.”
“And if it was?”
“Then I’d ask how far into this family shit you’re willing to wade. ’Cause it goes a helluva lot deeper than what you’re seein’ on the surface.”
That response jarred them into silence for a bit.
But Tell wasn’t a back-down kind of guy. “And that right there just proves my theory.”
Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders) Page 28