Mustang Sassy

by Daire St. Denis

  Sass wriggled beneath him. His dirty talk drove her wild and she didn’t know how much more she could take. “C’mon, Jordan. You’re killing me here.”

  But he wouldn’t listen. Damn him. He just kept kissing her and touching her, until finally, heaven help her, he focused on her breasts again. This time her skin was so ultrasensitive that the sensation of his beard rubbing against her nipples had her small body bucking in ecstasy.

  “That’s my girl.” Jordan placed a hand on the small of her back and lifted her off the bed so he could nuzzle her belly and lower.

  She was no longer rational. Her head whipped from side to side as his mouth approached the most sensitive part of her again. With just the tip of his tongue he flicked her, making her cry out.

  “That’s it baby. Now you’re ready.” He set her back down and positioned himself between her open legs.

  With the head of his cock at her entrance, she tried to bear down, to force him inside, but Jordan wouldn’t let her. He kept it slow, holding her hips in place, controlling the whole penetration. It made her wild, like a restrained, rabid animal and her body responded by jerking and writhing, only to be subdued by Jordan’s strength.

  “Fuck, Sass, you’re driving me crazy.” His voice was low and husky as he slowly filled her.

  “Then give me what I want.” She panted, straining toward him with her hips.

  “I will. I will.” His voice sounded pained. “But you need some patience. This time we’re going to do it my way.” He captured her wrists and held her arms above her head as his pelvis started up a slow, easy rhythm.

  There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to move. Sass had no choice but to give in to the rhythm and enjoy it. Once she gave up the fight for a hard and fast release, it was pretty easy to take pleasure in the feel of Jordan’s body moving in and out of hers like waves on the ocean.

  “Yes. That’s it. You feel so damned good.”

  “So do you.”

  “I’ve never met anyone like you,” Jordan whispered in her hair.

  “I—” Sass didn’t know how to respond. She’d never met anyone like Jordan either. In fact, she’d never believed someone like Jordan existed in real life. Maybe in Libby’s romantic movies, but that was it. Until Jordan came along. He was everything she’d never dreamed of in a guy. He made her feel special. He made her feel…well, for some reason, this amazing, talented man liked her. Her! Even after what she’d done to his car. There had to be something wrong with the universe.

  Jordan didn’t press her to finish her statement, he just kept up the rhythm. Sliding in and out, in and out, strumming her like they were making music together. Finally he let go of her hands, but Sass left them on the pillow above her head as he trailed his fingers down the underside of her arm to her chest, then down to her waist and hip. When his hands came around the back of her ass, Jordan’s tempo increased. He shifted his weight and suddenly the length of him hit new and pleasurable spots inside.

  “Oh!”

  The pace of his thrusts intensified until Jordan was kneeling between her legs, hands on her hips, driving into her with force. Yes! This was just the way she liked it. But it was different too. Her body was so primed, so ultrasensitive that every cell and membrane responded to Jordan’s touch. Her climax wasn’t an instant explosion that soon fizzled out, like it usually did. This time it was a slow burn, with Jordan adding log after log to the fire until, out of nowhere, there was a bonfire between them. A bonfire that was so much more satisfying and long lasting. It filled her, consumed her, and lifted her to heights she’d never attained before.

  “Oh, Sassy!” With his final thrust, Jordan let his head fall back and squeezed his eyes tight.

  Gazing up from her position on the bed, Sass didn’t think she’d ever seen anything more gorgeously masculine. All his muscles were strained, his cries rumbled from deep in his chest and he gripped her like she was both fragile and unbreakable. She wished at that moment she were an artist, because she would have loved to capture the image of Jordan as he was, right then. It would be her keepsake, her memento of the time they’d spent together.

  Even though he was done, Jordan gave her a few more thrusts until Sass met him in paradise. She wished she could stay there with him, in that kaleidoscope of bright colors and overwhelming sensations. But paradise was an illusion. Sort of like Jordan. He was there now, but his presence was fleeting. Just like the throbbing of her body would subside, Jordan would leave. It didn’t matter how incredible things were between them at that moment, there was no way in hell a man like Jordan Michaels would want to be with someone like Sass Hogan for the long haul.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was so cold out and he had to keep her warm. Take your clothes off, he said. She resisted, but she was hypothermic and irrational. He tore his clothes off and hers too and then pulled her into bed with him, enjoying—too much—the feel of her body nestled into his. Warm…

  Warm? Wasn’t she hypothermic? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was his growing erection and the sweet, moist spot between her legs. He’d saved her, after all.

  “Jordan?” The voice was soft and heavy with sleep.

  “Mmm?” His hands moved around to the front of her, one going high and the other low.

  “Jordan?”

  The voice was more insistent this time, and Jordan slowly opened his eyes. He tried to get his bearings in the darkness. Where was he? Oh, yes. The cabin. And…Sass! He snuggled her to him. Sass had stayed. It was spooning Sass’s warm body that had prompted his middle-of-the-night hard-on. How wonderful. He started to plant sleepy kisses on the back of her shoulders and neck until she rolled around in his arms to face him. She put her hands on his chest to keep his ardor at bay.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Picking up a small, calloused hand, he kissed her fingertips and said, “Based on the number of times we did it last night, I think you know.”

  “But, I was asleep.”

  “So was I. Having a great dream, too. There was this girl I was saving…”

  “You dreamed you were saving a girl by boinking her?”

  “Mmmhmm.” He started to kiss Sass’s wrist and then the inside of her elbow. “But my dream girl didn’t talk so much, she just enjoyed.”

  Sass lay still for a few moments. Then, out of nowhere, she threw off the covers, letting the warmth of the bed escape, only to be replaced by the cold night air. Sliding out of the bed, she started fumbling around on the floor. “Where the hell are my clothes?”

  “Sass,” Jordan said firmly as he sat up in bed. “It is the middle of the night. You are not leaving.”

  “Wanna bet?” Her voice cracked as she rooted around on the floor for her things. Jordan wasn’t about to tell her that her clothes were still outside, strewn across the deck. He’d let her search and then, finally, she’d come to her senses.

  Who was he kidding? This was Sass he was talking about. Ever resourceful, she tripped over nameless objects on the floor on her way to the closet and flung open the door. Then she pulled on the cord for the bare bulb. It didn’t throw much light, but after the complete darkness, Jordan had to squint to see what she was up to. In moments Sass was clothed in an enormous flannel shirt and sweats. Just before she pulled the light off again, she turned and Jordan saw the glimmer of tears streaking down her cheeks.

  Why the hell was she crying? “Sass?”

  “Go back to sleep.” Her voice was too low, too husky.

  Jordan wanted to get up, grab this insane woman, and pull her back to bed, but something told him that wouldn’t be a good idea. Sass Hogan was the poster girl for reverse psychology. Forcing her to stay wouldn’t help his cause. She’d just make sure to avoid him, out of spite, or whatever-the-hell-it-was that was eating her. Each time he’d let her go it was Sass who came back. But, dammit! It was starting to get old.

  The door slammed and, moments later, Jordan heard the sound of the old truck coughing to life. He punched the pi
llow, which was still warm with her scent. Then he punched it again.

  “Jesus, Carlyle,” he muttered to the ceiling, covering his face with his hand.

  How the hell did he already feel so much for this slip of a woman? She haunted his every waking moment. The cabin’s walls whispered stories about her. His fingers itched, needing to create her likeness. He had nearly a whole sketchbook filled with images of her. Thank God she hadn’t found that one, otherwise she’d have thought he was some creepy stalker.

  Jordan sighed, kicking the tangled blankets away from his legs, needing the cold air to cool him down.

  I’ve grown up at Hogan’s. I’m going to run it when Buck retires.

  In the process of pursuing his dream he was going to crush Sass’s. He’d told himself she wouldn’t be sad to see Carlos leave, that’d he actually be doing her a favor by stealing him. Stupid. That was just to pacify his guilt. He was going to hurt her, it was unavoidable and the idea of hurting Sass turned his gut to acid.

  Why couldn’t they both get what they wanted? There had to be a way.

  The question was, what did Sass want? Did she feel the same way about him that he felt about her?

  Jordan replayed all their crazy hookups over in his mind. It was always Sass who bailed, who’d made it abundantly clear all she wanted from Jordan was sex. So where did that leave him?

  Screwed.

  He lay there mulling over his non-relationship with Sass Hogan. As far as he could figure it, he had a choice. He could tell her about his lies and hope that she’d give him a chance to prove to her how much he cared about her. Then he could spend the next week or two—however long it took to finish the car—to win her heart. But then what? Ask her to go back to Denver with him? No way. Sass’s home was here.

  That left him with the other option. He’d just avoid her, like he’d been trying to do all along. Once the car was done, he’d pick it up, pay his bill, steal Carlos, show his family he wasn’t a failure and never think about Sass Hogan again.

  Sure. Like that was even possible.

  …

  It was probably a good thing the truck didn’t do more than about sixty-five; otherwise Sass would have been fishtailing all over the loose gravel. But she didn’t care. She just wished the waterworks would turn off. Stupid tears. That’s what she got for getting all soft and mushy with City-boy. Tears! What a joke.

  The whole drive home, Sass swiped at the moisture on her face and replayed the evening over in her mind. What had possessed her to fall asleep with him? She must have been really tired to do that. Pulling the truck up around the back of the house, Sass took a moment to sit in the dark. Yes, she’d put long hours in on his car. Then there was the sex. Usually sex for her lasted about ten minutes. This slow-dance sex with Jordan went on for hours. It was exhausting. Well, never again. Sass Hogan didn’t do sleepovers for a reason. Sex was supposed to be the most intimate thing and it was. But to Sass, sleeping together was…well, it was even more intimate.

  The last thing she needed to do was get intimate with City-boy. He was leaving. End of story.

  Sass climbed out of the truck and went in the back door, through the kitchen. In the dark room, the first thing she saw was the red blinking light of the answering machine. She pressed the playback button, then grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water.

  “Hey, kid. Sorry I missed…I’m…I know it’s…but I think you’ll…” Stupid tape! “…I hope you’ll be…and I can’t wait….then, there’s the shop…It’s a lot to think about…details…so give me a call when you…5…4…7…6…” More incoherent syllables. “…I’ll be home…we’ll talk then.”

  Sass tried to replay the message, hoping she’d be able to pick out more of her father’s words the next time through. But, no luck. She downed her water and poured some more as she listened to the garbled message again. By his tone she was pretty sure he wasn’t sick. So, what was it? Buck was one of those strong, silent types who only spoke in his deep monotone when necessary. But these last couple of messages sounded very un-Buck-like. Was he excited? No. Nervous? Not really. Sass couldn’t put her finger on it, but it bothered her.

  With her glass of water in hand, and a vow to buy a new answering machine in the morning, Sass walked through the dark house to her bedroom. She should try to get a few more hours of sleep. She wanted to start the new paint job in the morning, and it would require a sharp mind and steady hand. But as she lay there, Sass realized that sleep would not be on the program. Her mind was preoccupied with images of Jordan and the girl in those damned pictures of his. But the girl wasn’t real and as much as Sass had pretended tonight, that girl wasn’t her. There was no way Jordan wanted any of that permanent stuff with her.

  Why the hell had she imagined such an impossible scenario with the one guy who would most definitely leave? Entertaining those kinds of thoughts would only end in heartache because a future with Jordan Michaels was never going to happen.

  …

  Tuesday was a disaster. Everything went wrong. The spray gun got clogged on her test spray, making a mess. Once the new windshield was delivered and unpacked, she discovered a flaw in the glass. And the hydraulic control of the jack stand in the hotbox, where she needed to lift the car to paint it, got stuck. After a thorough cleaning, a tempered call to the glass provider and some of Manny’s mechanical servicing, everything was set right and Sass was able to finish the paint job on the Fastback by Wednesday afternoon.

  Once it was completely dry, she’d color-sand it and then buff it to a gloss. It would take another day or two. After that, all she needed to finish the job was the grille and hubcaps and to sign her work of art. Then the car would be ready to roll and Jordan would be gone, out of her life, forever.

  “You heard from Buck lately?”

  Sass jumped, not hearing Al come into the hotbox where she stood staring at the newly painted car. Sass glanced up at Al and forced a smile. “He left a message, but I couldn’t make it out.”

  “Oh.” Al was unusually quiet. Probably because he was busy taking in the car. “You’ve done a stellar job, Sass-a-frass.”

  Sass should have felt pleased. After all the hours she’d spent on it, she had to admit she’d done a good job. In the end, once she finished buffing the new paint job and all the new parts were installed, the car would be perfect, in fact, better than when City-boy had driven into town. Fleetingly, Sass wondered if Jordan would even notice the improvements she’d made.

  Sass cringed, forcing thoughts of Jordan far, far away. Keeping busy had been a pretty good antidote to thinking of him. Except that it was his car she worked on and every time she laid her hand lovingly against the steel, she thought of him: drawing her, touching her, kissing her, laughing with her…she squeezed her eyes shut and rolled her shoulders. She felt weird. Achy. Broody. Out of sorts.

  By Wednesday afternoon Sass was feeling so restless she decided to drive out to the cabin to give City-boy an update on the car. She only wanted to see him so that she could stop thinking about him. Also, maybe he’d let her have another go at the punching bag. That seemed to help last time.

  But that was all she wanted. She would not let him talk her into staying. No more meals, no more posing for pictures. No more sex. No way, no how. She’d just pop in and be friendly and take a swing or two at the speed bag. But her clothes were staying on this time. Definitely on. Then maybe she’d go visit Millie.

  But when she turned the ’Vette into the gravel driveway to the cabin, Sass’s heart was so fired up she thought she might puke. Just as she shut the door she caught a glimpse of Jordan rounding the cabin, rubbing damp hair like he just stepped out of the shower. Her knees wobbled, and she had to hold on to the car for support.

  “Hey, Sass,” he said, all the while seeming to keep his distance.

  “Jordan.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “No service, remember? I can’t call and I thought you’d want an update on the car.”


  He watched her for a moment before answering. “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” she answered defensively. “Why else would I be here?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  Sheesh! He stood there so cool and smug Sass wanted to smack him. Suddenly she remembered the punching bag. “Well,” she said with a hand on her hip, “I was hoping to use your bag again. I mean your punching bag. That speed bag thing.”

  His expression said he didn’t believe her. What? Did he think she’d come all this way to jump him or something? Jerk!

  “Be my guest,” he finally said, motioning to the path around the side of the cabin.

  The weird thing was, Sass’s feet didn’t want to move. It was like she was tethered to the car. Like some umbilical cord held her in place and the moment she severed it, all hell would break lose.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No.”

  Jordan took a couple of steps toward her and Sass found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his broad chest. All the while her hands searched blindly behind her for the door handle. City-boy was right in front of her, towering over her. His expression was just as cool and smug as she’d imagined and her heart clambered up her throat at the nearness of him.

  “Did you want to come inside?

  “No.”

  He cocked his head to one side.

  Sass couldn’t take the pressure any longer. All the restlessness of the past few days made her temporarily lose her mind and blurt out all the stuff she was trying to pretend wasn’t going on in her head. “I’m not sleeping with you again, Michaels, if that’s what you think.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not?”

  “Yeah. Why not?” He took a step closer, if that was even possible.

  “Because…”

  “Didn’t you like it?” he whispered.

  Sass gasped, barely able to breathe with him so close. “Yea…well…” she sputtered.