Riding Dirty Page 12
“I’ve pictured you on the desk in your office like this,” he said. “I jerked off thinking about how you would taste.”
The idea made her swoon with shame and longing. They shouldn’t be doing this. Not here in semipublic. Not anywhere. She certainly shouldn’t be tugging her skirt up higher, or lifting one of her bare feet to the surface of the box to give him a better angle.
He pressed his hand to his fly, rubbing his cock through the denim. “You’re wet.”
She felt wet. Wet and messy and bare, because she’d waxed in preparation for him. A dainty strip of hair remained above the plump lips of her sex, almost touching her clit. Her cleft was smooth and soft. “Please,” she said again.
He lowered his head to her breasts. When his mouth closed around her stiff nipple, she cried out, clutching his hair with both hands. He moistened one nipple, then the other, sucking on them like cherries.
“Cole, please.”
“Please what?”
“Fuck me.”
He slid his hand between her spread legs and entered her with two fingers, groaning at the feel of her slick heat. His fingers made slippery sounds as he plunged in and out. She was too aroused to be embarrassed by the excess moisture, and he seemed to love it. He removed his fingers and placed his hand on her knee, holding her legs farther apart. His first two knuckles were wet, tattoos shiny.
“Wait,” she said, before he lowered his head. “Take off your shirt.”
He shrugged out of his vest and tugged his T-shirt over his head quickly, revealing a sculpted, muscular chest. It was covered with tattoos and lightly dusted with hair. His stomach was flat and tight.
God. He had the hottest body she’d ever seen.
He didn’t give her a chance to explore him. He braced his hands on her spread thighs and placed his open mouth on her, sucking and nibbling the lips of her sex. She trembled at the sight of his tongue dipping inside her, swirling around her clit.
His technique was as raw and dirty as his kisses. He ate her like a hungry wolf, without delicacy or finesse. And she wasn’t complaining. On the contrary—she was coming. She threaded her fingers through his hair and bucked against his mouth, letting out a ragged cry that echoed across the lake. He softened the suction when she went limp, gentling her as she floated back to reality.
Then he lifted his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling. “I think they heard you.”
She released his hair, breathless. “Who?”
“Everyone in the park.”
When she’d recovered enough to function, she picked up the wine bottle and took a bolstering drink. She glanced around but didn’t see any figures along the shore. Evening had fallen, casting the scene in grainy tones.
Cole lay back on the blanket and unbuttoned his jeans. If she thought his body was impressive before, it was dazzling now. His penis was thick and flushed, the tapered head jutting all the way to his navel. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and stroked himself slowly, his eyes on her exposed breasts.
“Do you need some help with that?” she asked, enjoying the show.
He let go of his cock. “It’s all yours.”
She unzipped her skirt and let it fall, keeping the camisole around her midsection. She liked the way it framed her breasts. Then she knelt on the blanket and wrapped her hand around him, thrilled by his girth. He pulsed with life against her curled fingers. His eyes glinted in the fading light as she bent her head to him, licking a salty bead from the swollen tip. Then she pressed soft kisses along his length.
She was about to free his balls and tease him with sweet licks when he lost patience, making a tight fist in her hair. She took pity on him and opened her mouth, swallowing as much of his cock as she could handle. Her lips stretched around him, sliding up and down. He watched her with his teeth bared, as if he couldn’t stand the exquisite pleasure. After less than a minute, he groaned and pulled away.
Mia lay back on the blanket and looked up at the bruise-dark sky. Although she wanted to savor his release, she’d also like to feel him inside her. He rolled a condom down his shaft and stretched out on top of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, kissing his tense mouth. He entered her in one smooth thrust. She gasped at the shock of it, splaying her hands across his shoulders.
“Does it hurt?” he ground out.
It did hurt, and he wasn’t even all the way in. But the discomfort from being penetrated by something larger than usual, after years of celibacy, faded after a few seconds. What remained was the helpless, held-down feeling. She struggled against it, uncertain.
Cole rolled onto his back and brought her on top. “Is this better?”
She sat up, testing the position. Her body was eager to accommodate his size. She felt nicely full and no longer pinned underneath him.
“This is good,” she said, moving up and down. Getting him wet.
His hands covered her breasts. “You’re so hot.”
She slid up and down on him, groaning.
“Tell me what you like,” he said, flicking his thumbs over her nipples.
“I like that.”
He did it again, studying her face. “What else?”
“I like your big cock.”
His nostrils flared as he watched her pussy envelop his thick length, almost to the hilt. “You take it well.”
“I don’t think I can handle all of you,” she said in a breathy voice.
His hands gripped her hips. “I’m sure you can.”
“I might need help.”
He lifted her up and brought her down so hard she gasped.
“Yes,” she panted.
“Like that?”
“Just like that.”
He worked her along his stiff length, fast and rough. It was exactly what she wanted—to be filled deep and rode hard. Just before he came, he sat forward and gripped her hair, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She kissed him back hungrily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and swallowing his hoarse cry.
After it was over, he disposed of the condom and they spooned on the blanket. He stroked her slippery cleft and kissed her nape, murmuring dirty things in her ear about her sweet pussy. He grew hard against her bottom as she spread her thighs like a butterfly and came in a shuddering rush. Then he just kissed her, over and over again. They made out like teenagers until the sky turned black and filled with stars.
She cried a little, thinking about the last time she’d made love to Philip. She hadn’t expected Cole to be so tender or romantic. She hadn’t expected to feel anything that challenged her previous relationship.
Cole wiped her tears away and stroked his hands down her back, soothing. He didn’t have to ask why she was crying. He knew. She finally rolled away from him and donned her discarded clothes. He did the same. Then they shared the picnic items in the dark. He surprised her by actually liking the cheese.
“Meet me here tomorrow night,” he said, eating grapes.
She popped a cracker into her mouth. If she had any common sense, she wouldn’t see him again. He was going to break her heart without even trying. They were both headed for disaster, individually. Together, they’d get there even faster.
But what a ride.
“We can’t meet in the same place.”
“Let’s go to a hotel.”
“They keep records.”
“Not all of them.”
“I’m not going to a shady hotel with you and your tracking device.”
“A shady hotel is a step up from this campground.”
“What about the Starplex?”
He smiled in the dark. “You want to go down on me in the theater?”
“Yes.”
Laughing, he ate more grapes. “Okay.”
“I meant that we could meet there and leave on your motorcycle. Do you know another spot like this?”
“Another semipublic place for you to get your rocks off?”
She punched him in the arm.
“I’m not going to tell you about my fantasies anymore.”
“I’m just teasing. Your fantasies are fucking hot.”
They made plans for the following evening and packed up their belongings, heading back to the campground.
“Did you really have sex with your aunt?” she asked, curious.
He shrugged.
“She was your legal guardian. En loco parentis.”
“I don’t speak Spanish, senorita.”
“That was Latin. It means ‘in the place of a parent.’”
He fell silent for a moment, his footsteps heavy. “Where’s your father?”
“Dead. Since I was twenty.”
“Was your husband older than you?”
“That’s not a fair question.”
“Just answer it.”
“He was twelve years older.”
“‘In the place of a parent’?”
“Fuck you,” she said, walking faster.
“Oh, is it insulting to suggest you have Daddy issues?”
“I don’t.”
“Neither do I.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Your mother neglected you and your aunt took you to bed, probably when you were just a teenager. She might have manipulated you into attacking her daughter’s rapist so that you would go to prison instead of her husband. You haven’t had a steady girlfriend in ten years. Yeah, I think you have issues.”
“I don’t have a steady girl because I get all the pussy I want without one. As you just demonstrated by serving up yours so nicely.”
“You’re an asshole,” she said, striding ahead again.
“An asshole with a big cock,” he called after her.
Cheeks flaming, Mia hurried forward. She was arguing with a convicted felon in a public park—after having sex with him in it. Who was she right now? She didn’t even recognize this crazy, reckless person.
Storming off in a huff would mean a long walk for her on a dark, deserted road. So she took a deep breath and slowed her stride. When they arrived at his campsite, she’d regained some of her composure. He stashed the blanket under the seat of his motorcycle and turned on the headlight, illuminating the space.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his brow furrowed.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Me, too.”
“You’re not my psychologist anymore, Mia.”
“What am I, your girlfriend?”
“If you want to be.”
She shook her head in denial. “I’m not ready for that. I don’t think you are, either.”
“Then we’ll take it slow,” he said, studying her face. “But you can’t treat me like a patient one minute and your man the next.”
That was reasonable. Smart, even. Sleeping with him had destroyed their professional relationship, and there was no going back. Although the transition from counselor to lover was rocky, she’d made her choice. Now she had to live with it.
“I won’t pretend that I don’t know about your problems.”
“You can stop using them against me.”
“Fine,” she said, conceding his point. “I might have overreacted. I didn’t like what you said about my husband.”
“I get that,” he said in a bitter tone. “I’m aware of my place. I’m not allowed to talk about your husband, or ask you to be my girlfriend, or do anything that upsets your precious memories. I’m just supposed to rail you.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew he wanted more from her than a casual hookup. He’d been honest about his desire for intimacy, not just sex, but she couldn’t make him any promises. What kind of relationship could they have? He’d been honest about his chances of surviving this assignment, too.
“You must think I’m an idiot,” he said, laughing softly. “Begging you for permanence when there’s a price on my head.”
She placed her hand on his cheek. Even his face felt strong to her, strong and rough and unyielding. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
But she would be, to fall in love with him.
He didn’t say anything else, and neither did she. The ride back to her car was uneventful. She pressed her cheek to his vest and clung to him, though he didn’t go fast. Her skirt and heels weren’t appropriate for a thrill ride.
“Do you have a leather jacket?” he asked when they stopped.
She took off the helmet and handed it to him, considering the leather corset she’d bought. “No.”
“You should wear something that protects your arms tomorrow. With jeans and boots.”
“Okay.”
He seemed guarded again, as if she’d hurt him with her sharp words. He didn’t think he had issues with women because sleeping around was such a low-conflict exercise. The ladies he took home had a good time. He wasn’t used to hearing anything but yes and more and please. She suspected that intimacy would be difficult for him, like stopping when she’d said no, but he was the kind of man who could do whatever he set his mind to. He’d grown stronger through adversity, when most people weakened. He’d been blessed with common sense, protective instincts and a quick intellect. He had an innate ability to adapt to his surroundings and learn from his mistakes.
He might get bored with her, or decide she wasn’t worth the trouble. Or he might find a way to strip down her defenses and win her over. She wasn’t sure if the idea of him discarding her scared her as much as him wanting to keep her. Either way, she’d end up broken.
But she didn’t care. Because broken was better than numb.
He waited until she got in her car and started the engine. Then he sped away, disappearing into the night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
COLE WAS RESTLESS before his next date with Mia.
He’d been avoiding Shawnee and Uncle Bill like the plague, and he was too keyed up to stay inside his hotel room. There were ideas swirling through his head, long-buried feelings and plans within plans. He couldn’t sit still after work. So he showered and shaved and hopped on his motorcycle, seeking the company of his oldest friend.
Cole drove towards Ace’s trailer on the outskirts of town. He caught a glimpse of a beat-up work truck leaving the area. Cole followed at a distance, pondering what his uncle had said about Ace’s new vocation.
Wild Bill was a liar, but he might not be lying about this. Ace could probably kill people without blinking an eye. He was the only person Cole knew who never seemed to react in anger. When Ace did something violent, he was cold and calculated about it. They were polar opposites, basically.
Ace drove to Coachella, a neighboring town known for a music festival that brought thousands of scantily clad women to the area every spring. There was a free-love atmosphere, drunken antics and a cloud of pot smoke all week long. Although Cole enjoyed the sights, he’d learned not to expect much from big-city girls. The best-looking ones seemed to prefer skinny hipster boys over him, which was a fucking insult. Others were too young, or too wasted. Cole was better off with his own kind.
Or so he’d thought, until Mia.
To Cole’s surprise, Ace pulled into the parking lot at Vixen. The strip club was open, but it was too early in the evening for big crowds. There were only about a dozen cars outside. Cole continued down the street and circled back, curious. Ace hadn’t gone inside. He was sitting in his truck at the edge of the parking lot, smoking.
Cole pulled up next to Ace’s truck. Ace didn’t look happy to see him. “I followed you from the trailer park.”
“What do you want?”
Cole dismounted the bike and climbed into the passenger seat of Ace’s truck. Ace didn’t complain about Cole making himself at home. He smoked his cigarette and kept an eye on the employee entrance.
“You going in?” Cole asked.
“No.”
“Have you gone in before?”
“Once.”
“Did you get a lap dance?”
“Yeah.”
“How was it?”
Ace crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “Unsatisfying.”
Cole smiled at this answer, agreeing with him. “I need to talk to you again.”
“I’m busy.”
“I can wait.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then an old car rattled into the parking lot, taking an open space several rows down from Ace’s truck. One of the windows on the driver’s side of the car was broken, covered with clear plastic that rippled in the wind. Ace straightened at the sight of the woman who exited this sorry excuse for an automobile.
She was petite and brown-haired. She wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat with a long, fringed T-shirt that was falling off one shoulder. Cole remembered her. She was the best dancer in the club, and she had a hot little body. He glanced at Ace, whose cold blue eyes warned Cole to keep these observations to himself.
Ace got out of his truck as soon as the woman entered the building. “Come on,” he said. “You can help me.”
Cole followed Ace across the parking lot. “What are we doing?”
“Replacing the window.”
It wasn’t really a two-man job, so Cole just stood around and acted as lookout while Ace removed the door panel. Cole held the screws for him. Then Ace retrieved the new window from his truck and they slid it into place. Sweat gathered at Ace’s temple as he reattached the door panel. He completed the task in a hurry, as if he was worried about getting caught by the vehicle’s owner. Ace Clemmons, lifelong criminal and possible paid assassin, was afraid of a little gal who took off her clothes for a living.
When it was done, Ace shut the door and strode away. He didn’t leave a note. “Where do you want to talk?”
“Wherever. Do you still have that bucket?”
“You and your fucking bucket.”
There was a gas station down the street, so Ace drove there and waited while Cole filled the bucket. Then they sat on the curb in the shade. Cole rolled up his pant leg and submerged his foot. Screw Vargas.
“This is very refreshing,” Cole said. “You should try it.”
Ace grunted and lit another cigarette.
“So you like that cowgirl.”
“I didn’t say I liked her.”