She braced one foot against the door frame, lay back on the seat, and stretched out her arms, one hand gripping the gun rack in the window and the other the steering wheel.
“Damnit, Sarah,” he ground out.
“I know, I know, baby,” she whispered. “So goddamn good…ahhh!”
His hands gripped her hips and jerked her toward him as he thrust again and again. Tension built in her core, and her pussy clamped down on his cock. The friction he built inside her was molten hot.
She watched him, her gaze never straying. She noted the veins rising on his forearms as he gripped her hard, the sharp, strained edges of his jaw and cheekbones, the sweat gathering on his upper lip and forehead.
Mostly she watched the long, thick column of his cock as he hammered in and out of her in violent strokes.
Sarah’s breaths grew jagged, her legs tensed, and all along her inner channel muscles rippled, caressing Joe’s cock, clasping and releasing his shaft to draw him deeper.
Joe’s thrusts quickened until he jackhammered against her pussy, short grunts gusting, his belly and balls slapping moisture where they landed.
“I can’t wait…don’t make me wait,” she pleaded.
“Come, baby. Fuck!” he shouted, pounding harder, climbing into the cab to follow her as her hands lost their grips and she scooted deeper into the cab with each thrust.
Sarah sobbed, arching her back as a moment of perfect ecstasy pricked her nipples and sent waves of heat washing over her skin. Small convulsions vibrated up and down her channel, and, at last, she jerked, crying out as the pleasure exploded.
Joe collapsed on top of her, breathing hard.
Sarah wrapped her arms around him, gasping to fill her starved lungs.
Gradually his breaths evened, and he lifted his head from her shoulder. He wiped the tears sliding into her hair with his thumbs and then bracketed her face between his hands. “I know I don’t say the right things. But I don’t feel very civilized when I’m around you. It’s been that way from the first time I saw you. I want to mark you like a dog, rub my smell and semen all over you so any man who passes you will know you’re mine.”
Sarah’s mouth opened, but she didn’t know how to respond. What he said, the deep, growling texture of his voice as he’d said it, answered an emotion welling deep inside her. “I never say the right things either. I think I want to be the bitch so men know not to try to get too close. I’m not any good at being a girlfriend.” His lips tightened, and she smoothed her thumb over his bottom lip, watching his mouth rather than his darkly glittering eyes. “I’m scared of what you make me want.”
“It’s a start,” he whispered, kissing her mouth in slow, suctioning circles. “Gonna wait for my call?”
Sarah punched his shoulder.
7
Having a possessive boyfriend had its pitfalls and perks—it was also a lot of fun.
Whenever she wanted an obedience refresher, she had only to don a flirty little skirt and head to the bar, where invariably he’d find her and haul her butt out. Sometimes they even made it home to her bed before he “punished” her.
But he’d been reasonable—he’d allowed her to select the flogger he used from an online BDSM store. She’d added a leather slapper she’d nicknamed “the cunt clapper” because that’s where she liked it aimed.
When she heard his truck grind to a halt outside her house one Sunday morning, she formed her lips into a straight line before she opened the door.
She knew exactly what he was thinking when he parked behind the sleek sedan already hogging her driveway. She answered the knock, closing the door behind her to stand on the stoop.
His gaze narrowed, and his hand came up to push against the door, but she stepped close enough that her nipples, covered only by her thin nightgown and robe, beaded against his chest.
“Sarah…”
One side of her mouth quirked at the tense warning. Lordy, he was going to punish her body deliciously—after her company was gone.
She stood on tiptoe and softly brushed his lips with hers. “Come inside.” Grabbing his hand, she turned and pulled him through the door, leading him into her kitchen. “Daddy, I’d like you to meet Joe.”
Joe felt his face heat with embarrassment as the judge looked over the top of the paper he’d been reading and gave him a steely glare. “It’s a little early for a social call, don’t you think?”
“Maybe it’s a little late by my standards, Daddy,” Sarah said, sounding amused. “He worked last night.”
“One of the new deputies…I know. He’s appeared in traffic court a few times already.” Judge Michelson set aside the paper and leaned back in his chair. “So you’re dating my daughter. Have to wonder why. She’s not exactly been the most obedient daughter.”
Joe’s lips twitched. The emphasis on the word obedient and the sparkle in the judge’s eye said he knew something about the nature of Joe’s battles with Sarah. Seemed nothing stayed private long in a small town.
“Sarah just needed a firm hand,” Joe drawled, taking a seat opposite the judge and then jerking back in his chair when a coffee cup landed with a thud in front of him. Joe used a napkin to wipe up the mess, and then lifted his cup. “Perfect, sweetheart. Just enough cream to ease the bitterness.”
Dishes rattled behind him, and he pursed his lips to hide a smile.
The judge arched a salt-and-pepper brow. “I should thank you for your discretion.”
“My discretion?”
“The bet Sarah accepted. I understand I have you to thank for putting a stop to that nonsense.”
“Daddy!”
“Now, pumpkin, are you mad because I mentioned it or because I knew all about it?”
Joe chuckled, warming up to the judge instantly. Her father knew her well and seemed appreciative of having another man take her in hand.
Judge Michelson rose from his seat and extended a hand toward Joe. “Don’t be a stranger. Sarah, you bring him around the house. Maybe he’d like to come fish in the pond with me sometime soon.”
“I do have some new lures I’d love to try out.”
Joe glanced at Sarah, whose face turned beet red. He’d managed to fashion half a dozen new and inventive hooks lately, some of them suitable for snagging a croppy or a bass.
The judge bent and kissed Sarah’s cheek, gave Joe a wink, and let himself out.
The silence that followed was filled only with puffs of indignation from Sarah. “Wouldn’t you know he’d take to you right away?”
“You aren’t pleased?”
“No! You two will be sharing all kinds of secrets about ways to torment me.”
“I hardly think your daddy’s gonna give me advice about where to crack my whip.”
“No, it’ll be so much worse. He’ll start making plans.”
Joe plucked the towel from her hands and hung it over the side of the sink. Then he turned her to face him, bringing her close to his hips and the heavy bulge the hint of her sweet perfume had mustered. “And plans are a bad thing?”
She swallowed, and her gaze dropped to his chest. “I don’t want you feeling crowded. He can be a little overbearing. And as soon as he figures out you’re moving in with me, he won’t be subtle about expecting something more out of you.”
“What will he expect?”
Her eyes met his, uncertainty causing them to glitter. “For you to marry me.”
Joe raised both eyebrows, pretending surprise, when secretly he was pleased she’d mentioned the M word. It meant she’d been thinking about their future. “I’m a big boy. I think I can take care of myself when he starts to put the pressure on.”
Her lips formed a straight line, and two spots of bright color flushed both cheeks. Joe could feel the tension stiffening her back. She’d wanted a less ambiguous answer and was mad at herself for expecting one.
He lifted a hand, grabbed a handful of her glossy, pale curls, and forced her head back until her gaze met his. “How many times do I have
to tell you you’re mine? When are you gonna believe it?”
Her lips relaxed. A deep sigh filled her chest. “I guess I don’t have much patience.”
Joe snorted, which earned him a pinch. “Did you get much sleep last night?” he murmured against her hair.
“Why? Is there some reason you need me rested?”
“Just checking.” He unwrapped his arms from around her and stepped away. “I got a couple hours of sleep, but, then, I don’t need much when I’m inspired. I do, however, need food. What’s for breakfast?”
Sarah had just picked up the dishes from the table and poured Joe another cup of coffee when the doorbell rang again. Her eyes rounded in alarm, but Joe’s lips curled in amusement. “You gonna answer that?”
“What if it’s my dad?” she asked, tugging the sides of the apron around her bottom but coming up several inches short.
“It’s not. Answer the door just like you are,” he said in his bedroom voice—the one that was hard-edged and surly and never failed to make her melt.
He smacked his knee once, a reminder of what he’d paddle next if she didn’t hop to.
Cursing hotly under breath, she stomped out of the kitchen to the front door, closed her eyes, and opened it.
“Mornin’, kitten. Joe said he might be here all day,” Logan said, his voice choked with laughter. “Thought I’d stop in to say hello.”
“Oh, it’s just you,” she said, wrinkling her nose and pretending she wasn’t relieved and delighted.
Running into Logan Ross, which she did often, proved less embarrassing than she’d feared. She had a soft spot in her heart for the man and knew he cared about her, too, because he’d threatened to kick Joe’s ass if he ever hurt her.
“He’s in the kitchen,” she said, turning to let him see her naked ass as she made her way down the short hallway.
Logan’s chuckles followed her all the way back.
Once inside the kitchen, she reached for the towel and threw it at Joe’s head. “What would you have done if it hadn’t been him?”
Joe caught the towel and grinned. “Apologized for your naughty streak and told whoever it was I’d make damn sure you never did it again.”
“And they’d believe you?”
“Do you really think they’d doubt it?” Logan interjected. “All they’d have to do is see the two of you watching each other.” He slid into a seat at the table and tugged at his shirt collar. “Damn, is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
Joe patted his knee, and Sarah happily climbed on, glad the top of her apron hid her nipples because they’d sprouted like winter crocuses, and he’d know it was because Logan’s glance was eating her up.
Logan’s eyes fell on the bowl of fruit in the center of her kitchen table. Oranges, shiny apples, and one plump plum.
Sarah’s back straightened as Logan’s eyes narrowed in wicked satisfaction. She sent Joe a wild-eyed glance and felt relief at the sudden tension in his features.
No way would he allow him to do that again….
“Sarah, sweetheart,” Joe said softly, “why don’t you show Logan how well behaved you are now?”
“Joe?” she said, her blood racing and excitement dampening her curls.
Logan plucked the plum from the bowl and held it between his fingers.
“Bend over in front of him.”
“I thought you said—”
“He’s not going to fuck you, baby.”
She gulped against the knot lodged at the back of her throat and carefully scooted off his thigh. Coming around the table, she squared her shoulders, letting her frustration show in her face, but only for Logan to see.
His legs were spread as he sat in his chair, and he held up one hand and circled his fingers, indicating she should turn.
With her face set in an unconcerned mask, she turned and bent over, displaying her ass.
“Widen your legs. I need those pretty lips parted.”
“Damn,” she whispered and widened her stance, bracing her hands on her knees as fingers spread her, holding her open, and the plum was inserted. His fingers tugged at her lips, arranging them to clasp the fruit, and then a fingertip rubbed her clit briefly and drew away.
She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but he winked and turned his attention back to Joe. She straightened and walked stiffly back to Joe who patted his knee.
Afraid she’d crush the fruit when she sat on his thigh, she perched on the edge and clasped her legs tightly together to hold the plum inside her.
“That favor you owe me,” Logan began. “I’m calling in my marker.”
Joe swore and then wrapped an arm around Sarah’s waist. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’d like to invite the two of you over for a party.”
Joe’s face relaxed; a smile began to curve his mouth. “As long as we lay some ground rules first. Sarah’s marrying me, and I don’t want anyone doubting the paternity of any baby she has.”
Sarah jerked. Juice from the plum seeped from her, dripping loudly on the floor. “I’m marrying you? Says who?”
“Me. Now be quiet while we talk.”
Sarah couldn’t help it. Her labia began to pulse, squeezing the plum. More juice dripped to the floor. He wanted to marry her. She’d hoped for it, kind of expected it after the way he’d acted with her father, but, still, she would have liked to be asked first.
“Sarah, you’re making a mess. How about cleaning up the floor?” Joe said, his voice suspiciously even.
She rose clumsily, trying to clutch her thighs together to retain the plum. She reached for the towel lying on the table.
“No, I want you to lick it up.”
Her body vibrated like he’d pressed that little butterfly’s remote, but it was just his voice, the sweet tension in his tone, that set her off.
Not caring what Logan saw, she slowly sank to her knees, placed both hands on the floor, and stuck her ass in the air as she licked the droplets of plum juice.
Fingers traced the edges of her furled lips and prodded the plum.
She moaned, waiting for it, knowing what he was about to do and that he was letting Logan, with his dark, compelling gaze, watch.
Joe dropped to the floor behind her. His nose nuzzled her sex. “God, I love the way this smells. Lemon and plum. Your sweet cunt.” His tongue stroked over the fruit, glancing on her folds.
Sarah shivered and dropped to her elbows.
The plum burst, and she knew he’d bit into it. Tongue and teeth pulled it from inside her.
“Logan…” Joe spit out.
“I’m out of here. Friday night?”
“We’ll be there.”
Logan laughed all the way to the door, but Sarah couldn’t have cared less because Joe hauled her to her feet and bent her over the edge of the table.
The rasp of a zipper and a deep, masculine groan sounded behind her, and then the tip of his glorious cock was pushing inside.
Sarah stretched out on the cool wood, enjoying the smooth forward-and-back glides that slid her nipples along the surface, but especially the steady thrust of his thick cock as it crammed into her pussy.
The apron fell open, the ties drifting toward the floor. “I like you all domestic.”
“Dream on if you ever think I’m gonna be barefoot and pregnant and waiting on your ass.”
Smack!
Sarah smiled and laid her hot cheek on the table. “When did you decide you wanted to marry me?”
“When I was following your pretty ass bent over your motorcycle,” he said, his voice tight as he hammered into her.
“Know when I decided I wanted to marry you?”
“Tell me, baby.”
“When it finally sank in why you brought me to Logan’s that first night.”
“Why do you think I did it?”
“Because you knew you had to shock me. Had to be the best I’d ever had. And you were…are.” She groaned when fingers reached beneath her belly and strummed her clit.
“That I love you?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought I already had.”
“When? I must have missed it.”
“Every time I disobeyed you. I begged for you to touch me, to discipline me. Think I’d let just any man do that?”
A growl rumbled behind her, fingers plucked and squeezed her clit, his thickness punished her, stroking deep and hard.
“Don’t ever expect me to be good,” she murmured. “I’ve got no incentive to change.”
“Baby,” he whispered, finishing her off with a flourish, “I’ll never admit this again, but I love the fact you’re a bad, bad girl.”
Night Watch
1
Logan Ross let his police cruiser idle past the middle of town to survey his domain. Since moving to Honkytonk from San Antonio, he had learned to appreciate the slower pace and savor small things, such as the change of seasons, even if there were only two in Texas. It was certainly different from life in the city.
Here it was on a Friday morning opening a three-day weekend, and there weren’t any commuters honking horns or rat-race executives screaming into cell phones. Nope. Shopkeepers busied themselves around their white limestone stores with their brightly colored windowsills and door frames, putting up sale signs and displaying their wares on unattended tables under their equally bright awnings.
His gaze snagged on Annie’s Antiques, as Annie, not to be confused with the original Annie, who happened to be her grandmother, carefully arranged an array of quilts on an outside table. It was just the type of thing that would attract someone who wanted to make a home. Instead of admiring the quilts, he paused to appreciate the fit of her chic sundress before allowing his gaze to move restlessly on.
Since his buddies had settled down, Logan found himself feeling more and more like he was standing on the outside looking in at happiness that continued to elude him. Both Cody and Joe seemed to thrive on their domestic arrangements, making Logan wonder what he was missing.
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