He places his arms on the side of my head and lowers his clothed self down over me. His kiss catches my moan from the satisfying weight of his body on mine. Somehow just that fills a part of me craving more.
I’m on the verge of … something, but Dallas keeps our kiss slow and fervent. Our breathing is heavy. I pant.
He glides his hand down my body from the delicate arch of my neck, along the swell of my breast, down my ribs, along my waist, over my hips, and finally, “Oh God!” Finally, he reaches the trimmed hairs along my pubic bone.
His fingers slide down the silky trail and touch my moisture. “Oh!” I moan. My senses are heightened, and I swear to God it feels like I have never been touched before. All my nerves there activate.
“Oh, you are ready,” Dallas says. His voice is confident. This is what he wants. It’s also sexy as hell, his tone deeply aroused. If sex could talk, it would sound like Dallas right now.
“Uh-huh.” It’s a mix between moan and affirmation. I reach his belt and tug. He pulls back, and I want to cry.
I must’ve let out a strangled dissent, because he soothes me. “Trust me,” he says.
Those two words do little to set me at ease. If anything, I need him inside more right now than I did two seconds ago. My God, I would let him own me right now just to have him fill this emptiness calling for him.
I can’t stop my hips from rocking underneath him.
His hand caresses my stomach as he moves down my body. The same hand grazes across my moist opening and then his fingers spread around my ass and clutch my hip, holding me in place.
He drops his head, and my hips jerk toward him involuntarily.
I hear the air inhaling through his nose as he hovers over my throbbing opening. He’s smelling me.
I’m wracked for a moment with trepidation and consider pulling away from him.
He growls—a manly moan mixed with urgency—and drops his mouth to my clit. The warm fluid coating his mouth and the rough surface of his tongue sends my body convulsing. Dallas’s fingers clutch me tighter to hold me in place, preventing his mouth from breaking contact with the most sensitive part of my body.
I want to cry, and love him, and kick him at the same time. It’s so much, I’m overwhelmed with the pure ecstasy. I let out a cry as a way of managing the sensations, but it doesn’t sound like it’s from pain.
Dallas must approve because he pulses his tongue against my clit and causes me to make the sound again. I drop one hand and run my fingers through his hair, resting my hand on his head. It takes every ounce of my control to keep myself from pulling his head tight against me and fisting his hair in my hand. I hold my breath, exhaling heavily when my lungs scream for air, my breathing increasingly more erratic with every lick and caress.
“Let yourself go, Carmyn,” Dallas instructs me with his aroused voice.
Oh God, how he says my name.
I can’t. It’s too much.
I moan, call out his name, “Dallas!” And then I hold my breath again.
He moves his mouth lower and places his tongue along my opening as if he’s slowly lapping up the moisture escaping my most vulnerable place.
“Trust me,” he whispers into my opening. His facial hair causes friction between my legs as he says it.
I can’t hold on anymore. Can’t hold it in. Hold back.
A screaming moan scratches on its way out as my body is gripped with convulsions and my clit throbs with the torrent of my climax. It’s so intense, I bounce in Dallas’s grip. His fingers clutch me tight and he keeps his mouth, his tongue moving along my sensitive nerve bundle.
Each wave is more forceful than the one before it, and it’s unlike anything I have ever experienced.
The tension abates, but my body still jerks randomly. I can’t find my voice. I can’t say anything. I just breathe, trying to regain the mind that was blown by this man, this sex god who somehow knew he could rock my world.
I release my hand from his hair, and he sits back on his heels. He has a light in his eyes and a grin on his face that is pure satisfaction. It’s almost like he’s the one who’s just had the best fucking orgasm of his life.
But … something within me isn’t completely satisfied. Every part between my legs throbs, but I still need something. It dawns on me, and my jaw drops. “Dallas! Holy shit! Not once did you even go inside me.”
His grin grows into the sexiest damn smile I’ve ever seen. And knowing that if I were close to those lips, they would smell like me, I’m almost ready to do it all over again. “That was amazing.”
He lies down beside me and turns on his side so he’s propping his head with his hand. “I’ve never done that before.”
I roll onto my side, facing him. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I swear I’ve never done that before.”
One, he sure didn’t feel like it was his first time. In fact, it was more like he was reading my damn mind. And two, this is Dallas Brown we’re talking about. How can he be with that many women and never, not once, go down on them? “Why not? Or why now?”
His eyes move back and forth, searching my face. For what I’m not sure, but when he speaks, it’s soft. “I’ve never met anyone I wanted to please more than I do you.”
Heat rushes through my face and down my neck, but not from embarrassment. More like a connection. Like the truth of his words washing over me. I cup his rough cheek. “I’ve never been more pleased,” I say honestly, and lean forward to kiss him. His mouth smells like sex and tastes slightly salty, but it turns me on. The things he did to smell this way and taste this way.
I reach my hand down his stomach and finger underneath the band of his pants and boxers. He’s hard as the metal he works with.
He pulls back and stays my hand. “This isn’t what that was about.”
Everything he does surprises me. “I know; that’s why I want to.” How can he please me like that, confess things like that, and not let me do something for him?
I unbuckle his pants and release his erection from its prison. He rolls onto his back and I climb over him and rest between his legs. A part of me is nervous. What if I’m not as good as all the other women?
I push that out of my mind. My head lowers to his chest and I kiss his nipple. I lick it and work my way over his shark tattoo and to the other nipple, and then down his stomach. I kiss along his hips and lick the moist tip of his manhood.
It jerks under my tongue. He groans and it sets me off. I take him in the palm of my hand and wrap my lips around him, lowering my mouth down his shaft as far as it will go. I empty my mind of everything save for his breathing, his movements, the sounds he’s making. My goal is to rock his world as thoroughly as he did mine, and by the time he’s finished, I have no doubt that I did just that.
“I don’t often change my mind, but when I do,
it means something.”
—Dallas Brown
I BACK my bike into its usual spot against the complex and a tool shed so people won’t scratch it. I have a smile on my face as I stroll up the walkway toward my apartment. Women have made me smile before, but never like this. Never does the grin stay on once I leave them. Fuck me, but I think I might actually be falling for Carmyn. She makes me want to do things I’ve never wanted to do before, makes me reconsider everything I thought I’ve never wanted.
And the things she can do with her mouth. Holy shit! That alone will send a man falling in love with her.
Becker lives in my apartments this semester and he’s walking this way toward the parking lot. The line of my lips spreads, almost as if I’m thanking him for being such a goddamn idiot, not for hurting Carmyn, but for the consequence of losing her.
He stops before he passes me. “I see you’ve been hanging out with Carmyn pretty regularly.” It’s like he can smell her on me.
“Not really your concern anymore, is it?”
Becker’s preppy-ass tries to look hard by sliding his tongue over the top of his teeth while noddin
g. “Did she tell you about her mom being a slut?”
I tilt my head at him and give him a mean-ass glare. I never liked this little shit.
Becker smirks at me. “I guess she tells that story to all the guys she sleeps with then.”
I pull back my fist and connect it with his face. He drops to the ground, covering his bloody nose.
“That’s for Carmyn.” I bend over and punch him again, this time in the jaw. “And so is this, you pussy.” I stay low so he hears me good. “If I ever hear you talk down about her again, I will break your fucking jaw.”
He pulls his hand away from his face, his palm soaked with blood. “You bastard!”
I cock my fist back again, and he flinches. “Tell me we have an understanding.”
“All right!” he says and rolls onto the side of his shoulder, breathing heavy from his mouth.
I stand up, holding myself back from kicking him just to make sure he really does understand me. I flick my hand at him instead, flinging his blood spatter off my knuckles.
I walk away and leave him. He might press charges, but I doubt it. It’s gotta be fucking embarrassing to make a police report about getting your ass kicked.
“You’re crazy,” Becker says once I’m near the stairs.
I ignore it. He can talk all the shit on me he wants. Just not Carmyn. And I’m not the one who’s fucking crazy. He is. I’ve slept with Amber, and she was nowhere near as mind-blowing as Carmyn. Even her smell was a little funky, unlike Carmyn’s soft bouquet.
The asshole of an ex-boyfriend ruined my buzz. I bet that was his intent. I take the stairs two at a time up to my apartment and hop in the shower, forgetting all about Becker and his big mouth.
I have Carmyn’s scent all over me. I’m almost sad to wash it off.
That’s just weird.
We’re meeting tomorrow before class to finalize our paper, which was what we were supposed to be doing tonight. Not that I can say we wasted any of that time, though.
And I have to be up even earlier than that to take the bike in for a slight modification. I grin. It’ll fucking cost me, but it’ll be worth it.
CARMYN and I finish our paper without any bumps and walk together from the Jefferson Library to Thornbridge Hall. Every once in a while Carmyn will look at me with cherried cheeks. And when it happens, I like to think it’s because she’s reminded of my face between her legs.
I take my seat next to her, and now instead of her bitching at me like she did the first time I sat here, she smiles.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask before Keating gets the projector going.
“Why?” Her voice is suspicious, but not at all rejective.
“I have somewhere I want to take you.”
She gives me a sly smile. She still tries to act leery every time I want to do something with her that doesn’t involve school.
I shake my head. “Just you and me hanging out. Nothing to be afraid of. So are you busy or what?”
“I have to work at the shop until seven, but after that, I should be free. Do you have money for my cab?” She bites her lip to hold back her smile or laughter. Probably both.
“I’ll pick you up.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Dallas Brown, driving something other than his bike?” She checks my forehead for a fever and grabs my wrist to check it for a pulse.
I chuckle. “You’ll have to see it to believe it.” She has no idea.
“Still, you may wanna get that checked.”
“Wear what you have on now.” Cute yellow shorts, white shirt, boots. Sexy as hell.
She appraises me. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re taking me, and I’ll decide on my wardrobe?”
“How about I don’t, and you not worry about changing?”
“Oh, you like these shorts, huh?” She rubs her bare leg against mine under the table. She’s a goddamn tease. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“They’re all right,” I say, holding back my grin.
She flicks my inked arm resting atop the table and then turns forward as Keating calls the class to attention.
After my last class of the day, Randall gives me a ride to the modification shop in his old Camaro to pick up my bike. “I still can’t believe you’re modding your bike so you can fit a girl on the back.” He shakes his head. “What if you regret it?”
“First, it’s not just any girl. It’s Carmyn. And two, I won’t regret it one bit.”
He looks at me as I climb out. “Doubtful, bro. Hit me up later.”
I close his door with a creak and a bang, and walk into the bike shop. “Louie!” I call when I see the big guy behind the desk.
“Oh, Dallas, that thing’s a beauty. Come on back and I’ll show ya what we did to her.”
We walk through his shop and past a chromed-out custom cruiser with a bitchin’ copper paint job.
And then I see her. “Wow, Louie, she looks good. As if she came this way.”
“We had to replace the back fender and a whole bunch of other shit to accommodate the new seat. We also had to adjust the rear shocks back here.” He points to the shocks and I can see how they’re now at a different angle. “It’ll still balance properly at high speeds with another person on the back.”
I climb on and get a feel for the new seat. It’s not the single ‘39 Harley I loved, but it’s good. And it’ll be even better with Carmyn behind me. “Yeah, man, it feels solid.” I climb off and follow Louie back out front.
“Steph will get you all squared away. You let me know if you need anything else.”
I give him a nod and another thanks before he turns around and goes back into the shop.
“It’ll be $1,374.06,” Steph says. She’s an older lady who’s worked with Louie for as long as I can remember.
I pull out my wallet and pay it gladly. I’m almost giddy and can’t wait to have Carmyn riding on the back.
Two of my favorite things: my bike and my girl.
“Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.”
—Baby (Jennifer Grey), Dirty Dancing
DALLAS’S bike roars outside so I know he’s just pulled up. “What the …?” I poke my head out our second-story window. “I’ll be right down,” I yell.
He keeps his bike idling and gives me a thumbs up.
“What’s wrong?” Ava asks.
“He has his bike. He said he was picking me up, but his bike only has a single seat. What the hell does he expect me to do? Sit on his lap?”
Ava laughs. “Probably.”
I rush to the door, ready to give him a piece of my mind.
“Wait!” Ava says. “Spritz.”
I turn around and let her spray me with my perfume. “Do I stink?”
“No,” she grins. “I just thought you should smell extra pretty.”
“Well, damn, Ava. Now he’s going to know I sprayed it on for him.”
She shrugs, turns around with a sly smile, and puts the bottle back on my dresser. “You kids have fun.”
I hustle to the elevator and out of the dorms, coming around back to meet Dallas. “And where the hell do you expect me to sit?”
He turns his bike off and hops off, leaning with legs crossed and arms folded over his chest. His sleeve tattoo next to the matte green paint of his bike is hot as hell.
Once my eyes trail beyond his form and more to the bike, I stop. “No. Way.” His bike now has a seat that sits two people. “You didn’t.”
He grins. “I did.” He slaps the seat, gesturing for me to sit on it.
Fear mingles with excitement in my stomach. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, but the thought of being on one while Dallas is driving is dangerously sexy.
I walk over to him, my cowboy boots slapping against the tar of the parking lot. “What ever happened to ‘no chicks on the bi
ke’?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I decided to amend it to ‘no chicks on the bike except Carmyn.’”
I shake my head and eye his bike with trepidation. “You really expect me to get on this thing?”
“Yes, ma’am. After what I paid to have this thing altered to fit your ass, I sure do.”
I laugh and step closer. “Do you have a helmet for me?” I’m not stupid enough to get on without one.
He unsnaps his cruiser half-helmet, hands it to me, and fingers his hands through his hair. The same way he did before going down on me last night. God, he’s so sexy. A muscle low in my stomach clenches.
Before I do something stupid, like lean over and kiss his mouth, I ask, “What are you gonna wear?” I’ve seen him drive his bike on numerous occasions without a helmet, but with me about to ride on the back of this death-on-wheels, it seems extra stupid right now.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“Let’s hope so.” I pull my hair back and put the helmet on my head.
Dallas fastens the straps and tightens it for me. “Feel snug?”
“Yeah,” I say, readjusting it to sit better on my head. “Okay, how do I do this?” I put my hands on the seat.
“Hang on a sec.” He gets on first and reaches forward to the handlebars. “Now use me to climb on behind.”
I hold onto his shoulders as I throw my right leg over the seat. He’s sturdy where I’m wobbly and keeps me from falling on my ass.
“Okay, put your feet right there,” he points. I do. “Now hold on tight,” he says, reaching behind him, grabbing my hand and placing it solidly onto his hard stomach. I mirror my other arm and clasp my fingers together. “Ready?”
I squeal. I can’t help it. My heart is pounding hard enough in my chest, Dallas must feel it drumming against his spine.
He backs up and straightens the bike out.
I clutch onto him tighter. “I’m scared,” I yell over the loud rumble.
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