by Amie Stuart
He didn’t care.
He’d be damned if he’d spend the evening watching some other man flirt with her. After he’d marked her, only an idiot would come near her. Or a tourist. Dammit!
“I said, I forgive you.” He wiped his mouth, scooped up his hat and walked back inside, trying to ignore the painful tightening in his jeans. As far as he was concerned, break was over. He sat up on stage tuning his old Gibson until the guys came back, then tore into “Hell Yeah” by Montgomery Gentry, another redneck-n-roll party song.
God had blessed him with twenty-twenty eyesight. He watched Jade walk back to the table and rejoin Betti, Jessa and the girls. She calmly reapplied her lipstick and commenced to sing along.
Apparently, Pete the Happy Tourist was an idiot. Rowdy watched as he tapped her on the shoulder. Stupid man. Rowdy’s temper kicked up another notch as Jade’s escort led her to the floor. He’d forgotten Jade could dance. She could dance a jitterbug. In high heels. Zack tried to do a slow song and Rowdy nixed it cold. No way was he gonna watch her cuddle up to some stranger. Then Jessa came back, and they ended up doing something slow anyway. Jade could slow dance, too.
He was shit out of luck.
He’d always prided himself on his easygoing nature and even temper, but by the time he took his second break, Rowdy was near to blowing a gasket. Betti and her friends were getting ready to leave when he sat down on the bench beside Jade. “I wanna talk to you.”
Jade leaned over until her chest was pressed against his arm. “About what?”
He didn’t buy that wide-eyed innocent smile for a minute. But she left him stewing while she hopped up to hug and kiss the four women goodbye. She sat back down, and he leaned closer; his eyebrow twitched at the feel of her hand on his thigh as she leaned against him again, a smile on her pretty face. “What did you want to discuss?”
Another inch or so and...he gave in. Leaned forward until their lips just barely touched. One hand cupped the back of her head while his tongue traced her I-Dare-You red lips. They tasted sweet, and he couldn’t hold back a low moan; thankful no one would hear him over the sound of Johnny Cash. Before Rowdy could slip his tongue past her lips, she leaned back, both slender dark eyebrows arched. “For someone who wants to talk, you do an awful lot of kissin’.”
“I can’t hear you,” he shouted, pointing at his ear. Two could play this game.
Her pursed lips curved into a smile as she stood up, her breasts passing mere inches from his lips. She motioned behind her with her thumb before leaning over. “Guess we better go outside then.”
He stood and guided her through the crowded bar toward the beer garden doors. The sway of her hips under his fingers made him itch to land a smack on her round ass. Instead, he gave her a squeeze and pulled her closer as they stepped outside into the warm night air, escorted by the sounds of Stevie Ray Vaughn.
The sun was now long gone, and orange Chinese lanterns lit the way as he led her toward one of the huge oaks in a remote corner. Hopefully, it’d be unoccupied.
“So, what did you have to say?”
He wracked his brains for a reason to have dragged her outside. Any reason that didn’t involve the truth: he couldn’t get her off his mind. “You still owe me—”
“—the horsey thing.” She nodded and smiled, all businesslike, and stood waiting for him to continue.
“Yeah, the horse thing. Rene’s birthday is Saturday and I was thinking—”
“That would be perfect,” she gushed. “I’d love to come to Rene’s birthday party! And afterward, we can...the horsy thing.” She gave him another smile, this one edged in confidence. “If you want.”
“I’m game.” What the hell was he doing?
3:12 A.M.: ROWDY HIT his front door, glad his long and sexually frustrating night was over. How the hell had he ended up with a date for Rene’s birthday party? God, Jade would probably wear the black lace bra and a white see-through shirt just to torment him. He booted up the computer, showered and collapsed in his office chair, to wound up to sleep. Then nearly ruined his keyboard with a mouthful of Sprite at the sight of two e-mails from Skyebaby, aka Jade.
The first was their once long-dead “Kissing” e-mail that had bounced back and forth between them for nearly two months:
Just wanted to say, you’re not all talk and no action. You’ve refined French kissing to an art form
His barely cooled blood began to simmer as he clicked on the next one. It had only “Saturday” as the subject line. She’d probably chickened out and wanted to cancel now that they’d set an actual time for the event to take place.
Dear Robbie...I know you like to be called Rowdy but I’m a bit stuck on Robbie so forgive me, sweetheart. I’m trying. Just wanted to say I’m really looking forward to Saturday night and was wondering if you’ll reciprocate. I know you don’t owe me anything but...while we’re busy living out fantasies...I hope you’ll help with mine. I realize I was a bit vague when I told you I wanted to have a sexual encounter in public but I think I can be more specific now, so how about killing two birds with one stone Saturday night?
The beer garden has lots of lovely little dark corners. No one will see us but the thrill of possibly getting caught will still be there.
We don’t have to have sex—since we’ll be doing that later—you could just get me off. I’ll even wear a short skirt to make things easy for you. Or would something loose be easier, yet? I’m not very good at planning these things, but the idea just struck me after being outside with you tonight.
I kept hoping you’d kiss me again but you didn’t. All the way home I thought about how dark and secluded it was out there and how you could do just about anything, and, well, I had to come home and use my shower massage *g*. Maybe next time, I’ll kiss you instead ;-)
XOXOXOX
Jade
Holy smokes! She’d gone home and masturbated. Gotten off thinking about having sex with him in the beer garden! Ah, God! There was no doubt in his mind they could get away with having full-blown sex in the beer garden but...what was he thinking?
He was thinking about how getting her off would only whet her appetite for more, later, on the horse. He sipped his soda, typed replies to Jade and went to take a cold shower.
THIS GIRL DOES
ALL THAT SMILING, acting sexy and flirting was hard work, but I’d never in my life enjoyed anything more than I’d enjoyed teasing Rowdy on Thursday night.
I woke up late Friday and ended up extending my deepest apologies to my first client—and a ten percent discount on their order. By the time my day ended, my eyes were crossing with exhaustion. I briefly contemplated going by the dancehall tonight just to tease him some more, but my body had other plans.
Instead, I ran by LaMadeline for a Chicken Caesar salad and one of their fabulous desserts, then headed home. After a long, hot shower, I settled in at the computer with my dinner, anxious, excited and dreading to see whether he’d responded to my sexy e-mails.
The teasing and flirting Thursday night had been Betti’s idea, but the e-mails were all mine. In an e-mail, I could say anything I wanted and damn the consequences. If he didn’t respond, I could dismiss it as some sort of Internet snafu and go about my business. But I didn’t doubt for a minute he wouldn’t—he knew what that shower massager was for.
After all, e-mail was what initially brought us together, so it only stood to reason they could help bring us back together.
He’d responded to “Kissing.” I shoved a forkful of salad in my mouth and clicked on the e-mail.
Jade...you’re no slouch in the kissing department yourself, darlin.
I snickered at the computer screen and fired off a one-line reply.
Wait until you see what else I can do with my lips.
Next came the one with “Saturday” in the subject line. No matter how hard I tried, I still couldn’t get a handle on how exactly we’d have sex on a horse. And Googling “Sex on a Horse” was out of the question. The results would probab
ly leave me scarred for life!
Jade...It’d be my pleasure to get you off in the beer garden. And yours too.
A smiley face with it’s tongue sticking out accompanied that thought.
It’ll be a great appetizer for the horsey “thing” as you like to call it.
Wear a thong, or better yet, no panties and a loose skirt, if you have one.
I read the e-mail again while fanning myself. Muh Gawd, I need a cold shower. Instead, I trotted back downstairs for my dessert—Strawberry Napoleon. Whipped cream, strawberries, paper thin, flaky pastry layers and a thick layer of icing on top. Almost as good as sex. Almost.
And I certainly needed it after that e-mail. I chipped off a bit of the icing from the top and typed a reply to the second email.
The thought of going panty-less left me squirming in my chair. Sleeping without them was one thing, but going out in public sans panties was another. I needed a distraction.
No, I needed Rowdy in my bed.
Barring that, I dug into my dessert and scanned the rest of my mail. One with “URGENT” in the subject line, caught my eye and Cagln-Chrys was listed as the sender. Chrystine. I sighed and clicked on it.
Woman...where have you been? Are you still alive?
My God, you two go on one date and you both fall off the face of the earth. Shy left the list! Did you elope? Did you hate each other on sight? How did it go with your family for your birthday...Hello! Remember me? Your friend, you slut wannabe! Did you get tickets for Dallas or Houston or were you too busy imitating a rabbit on fertility drugs? Caglehugs!
Chrys
Yes, I had forgotten to buy concert tickets. Which just went to show how far gone my brain was.
I’d lived and breathed Chris Cagle for nearly three years and, thanks to a cookie, my life had spun so far out of control I’d forgotten to buy concert tickets. For that matter, I couldn’t remember when either show was—or the San Antonio show, other than some time in November. Hell, I wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was.
Then I giggled at the thought of rabbits on fertility drugs and clicked on ‘reply.’ The least I could do was give her the very condensed version of the Rowdy Wars. Afterward, I skimmed the rest to catch up, carried my trash downstairs and called it an early night.
I needed my beauty sleep for tomorrow.
THE SMELL OF COFFEE woke me. With a grin, I hauled myself out of bed and hustled downstairs for a latte-sized cup and some peanut butter and jelly toast, settling in at the computer with my breakfast. I had a lot to do today but first, I wanted to see how Rowdy had reacted to my kissing e-mail. I smiled and sipped my coffee as the computer finished booting up.
I'll admit it. I like giving head. For a girl who’s mom had her gynecologist tell her about periods, for a girl who’s mom never even mentioned the “S” word—ever—oral sex was forbidden fruit. Just downright naughty.
It wasn’t the taste, or even the action, but the reaction. Power is the biggest aphrodisiac in the world. And giving a man head, making him moan and beg, turning him on and driving him insane was by far the biggest power trip I knew of.
I burst out laughing at his reply.
And wait till you see what I can do with mine.
Onward and downward to the next installment of “Saturday.”
No panties are fine. Preferred even. Don’t feel like you have to shop for a thong. As to special requests, something black and lacy up top would be nice.
And another smiley face sticking his tongue out. I giggled into my cup.
I’ve got condoms covered and I’m sorry about last time. Totally unplanned, but you’re the only woman I never used them with—if that helps.
Black and lacy meant I’d have to dig through my closet and see what I could scrounge up. I couldn’t wear the same blouse two days in a row and another shopping trip was out!
I groaned at the sight of Chrystine’s reply, but opened it anyway.
Oh Muh Gawd! You Huz! You slept with Shy? How was it? Was he big? Was he good? You know I want details, girl.
Well, apparently, shortly after your date, he left the list. Genevieve was asking why, said she even emailed him but never got a response.
And OMG on the mom. What a bitch! Grrr but laughing at you taking her off your Christmas Card list.
I’m sure someone has an extra ticket for Ft. Worth, if you want to go. Let me know and we’ll make sure you get it! I’d love to have you come up and stay with me! :-)
Caglehugs
Chrys
With a sigh, I set down my cup and typed off a quick reply. I’d take the ticket, since I had no idea what I was doing that weekend, but the details I fed her on Robbie were skimpy at best. She’d have to be satisfied, because I wasn’t up to two hundred other women finding out the gory details of my sex life, and the list could give Peyton Place a run for it’s money.
I spent all afternoon getting ready for my “date” with Rowdy, but didn’t leave the house until late. I’d called Betti, who suggested a couple of places to pick up a gift card for Rene, but said she was too tired to go out another night. At Betti’s advanced stage of pregnancy, I didn’t blame her.
But I’d never walked into a bar myself. I quickly reminded myself it wasn’t just a bar but a dancehall. People brought their kids. I knew the owner, at least half the waitresses, and the head bartender.
I kept telling myself that as I pulled in the nearly full parking lot at eight straight up. I’d be fine.
The prude in me had insisted I not leave the house without panties. Mothers—all of them—always harped on “clean panties in case of a car wreck” and, knowing my luck, the one time I’d choose to go without, would be the one time I had a wreck.
I could just see the headlines: “Jaws of Life Discover Pantiless Woman” or “Judge’s Daughter Dies In Ten Car Pileup. Pantiless Corpse Cut from Wreckage: Film at Eleven.” I snorted with laughter as I backed in between a huge Chevy truck and Rowdy’s Bronco.
Her Haughtiness would never have lived that down.
Praying no one walked by, I sat in my car, the windows up and wriggled out of my panties. I’d dug a red bandana-print skirt out of the back of my closet and paired it with a nice red blouse. The skirt had an elastic waist and zigzag bottom, with some of the points almost reaching my ankles, and the shirt was a conservative contrast to the black lace bra underneath. With a grin, I stuffed the matching panties in my purse, thinking they might come in handy later.
Inside, I joined Delaney and the rest of the Boudreauxes at Susie’s insistence. Even Rene was nice, though still a little on the sharp and pokey side.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, accepting the envelope with the gift card I’d picked up from Bath and Body Works.
“Rene,” Tim snapped. “Lay off or I’ll make you give your present back.”
“Sorry,” she replied with a frown.
I just squeezed her shoulder and smiled at her before settling in on the other side of Delaney.
Unlike the previous night when Pete wouldn’t quit hitting on me, no one bothered me tonight, thank goodness. I’d enjoyed dancing and flirting with him but he wasn’t my style at all. Though he had come in handy for making Rowdy jealous.
On the band’s first break, Rowdy disappeared into the crowd, only to tickle my neck a few minutes later, startling the bejesus out of me.
Showtime.
At least the surprised jump I gave helped me hide my case of nerves. I took a long, slow breath and flexed my nerve-stiff fingers under the table, then tilted my head back and gave him my most confident smile. “Hi.”
He set his beer beside my Lemon Drop and leaned over to rumble a greeting in my ear before catching Rene up in a hug. Or rather, getting tackled by her. Her display of affection was interrupted by a cute boy with freckles, dark hair and braces, who dragged her off to the game room.
I stood with a smile at his quirked eyebrow, and let him lead me through the crowded bar. I got a lot of appraising looks, and more tha
n one woman stared daggers at me, including an almost matched set of blonds who looked as if they’d seen better days. If looks could kill, I’d be full of lethal blades.
But Rowdy treated me like a lady. Despite his rough, good-ole-boy exterior, his manners were absolutely flawless. He never let go of my arm, always introduced me to his friends and, in return, I clung to his side, doing my best to be affectionate and outgoing. My favorite was Bo, a lanky young man with chestnut hair and a perpetual blush on his face, who played fiddle like he’d been born with one in his hands.
We stepped outside, and a shiver of anticipation ran up my spine as he draped his arm over my shoulder. My heart pounded, my breathing was ragged, and I was already embarrassingly wet with excitement. From inside the bar drifted the sounds of a classic from country balladeer, Mark Wills.
Before we’d taken more than four steps, Rowdy spun me around and kissed me in full view of anyone willing to watch. His tongue teased mine and I gave in, responding and wrapping my arms around his neck. Take that, catty girls! I’d be the one on the back of a horse with him tonight, not them.
Oh God, what had I signed on for?
He broke the kiss and peered down at me, his fingers brushing my bangs out of my eyes. “What did Betti do to your hair?”
“Does it really matter right now?” I gave Rowdy a flirty smile as someone walked by and slapped him on the shoulder.
He shouted a greeting, then focused back on me, his hands skimming from my shoulders to low on my hips. He stopped short of grabbing my ass, and I bit my lip against the urge to beg for more.
“Ready?” His grin was pure mischief.
“Very.” I gave up any and all pretense at Cool Chick Flirting as Rowdy led me to the back of the beer garden, to a corner far away from highway traffic or people traffic—or so I hoped. Knowing there were people nearby was titillating, but getting caught just wasn’t part of my plans. “How do we do this?”