Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mary London
Rhett texted me at ten minutes past one the next afternoon. I told Maggie I had a contractor thing I had to see to and she believed me. I mean, I did have a contractor to see to. Technically.
Rhett’s truck was parked right where he told me, the engine running.
I climbed up into the vehicle, laid my purse on the floorboard, and shot him a knowing smile.
He was in a clean polo, jeans, and his cowboy hat, looking like we were avoiding being seen by the FBI instead of just heading for an afternoon sexcapade.
He drove right out of Heaven, surprising me.
He was taking this secrecy thing pretty far, which had me confused.
I didn’t like being a secret, but I appreciated that he was trying to protect my reputation.
Thing is, I felt like all I’d been doing my whole life was protecting my reputation and I was itching for something to tarnish it for once.
After driving for two hours, during which we keep up conversation easily, talking about everything and nothing, we pull up to a small cabin along the river far south of Heaven. Rhett puts the truck in park and releases a long breath.
“We’re here.”
As I look around the area, I have to admit, it’s beautiful. Charming. Definitely romantic. The woods on the other side of the river make you feel like no one else is around. The cabin is small but well-kept with a freshly painted porch and flowerbeds overflowing with greenery.
Rhett pulls my hand into his. “I wanted privacy. A place where we can forget everything out in the world and just focus on each other.”
I smile at that. “Sounds pretty romantic, ’Lanta.”
He tips his head, voice gruff. “I can be romantic.”
My cackle makes him roll his eyes as he steps out of the truck.
He rounds the hood and helps me down from the truck, his eyes already heated, taking me in.
He laces our fingers together and pulls me up the path to the cabin, going slow so I can pick my way over the gravel without damaging my heels or falling on my face.
Birds are chirping and the air has a hint of fall coolness in it that makes me excited for the cooler weather.
Rhett punches in a code at the front door and lets us in. I don’t even get a chance to take in the small kitchen or the eclectic decor. Rhett scoops me up and twirls me around. I do manage to see a large vase of red roses sitting on the tiny breakfast table. A weird feeling punches me in the gut.
It’s funny how a thousand emotions and thoughts can run through your head at the same time. It happens in a single second, emotions leaving you whiplashed as you try to get your head around how you actually feel.
Oddly enough, there’s disappointment, something I didn’t think I’d feel today.
Not to sound like I’m all that or anything, but I’ve been given many bouquets of roses. From boyfriends, dates, people I had no romantic interest in. It’s almost expected.
Guilt.
I sound like a right bitch for not appreciating a man spending time and money on getting me roses.
There’s appreciation too.
Rhett is trying to impress me. The cabin, the roses, the time away from Heaven. I like that he’s put effort into our date.
But there’s also the feeling that something isn’t quite right, and I can’t put my finger on it.
I love romance. I do. It’s just that at thirty-four, I’m itching for something deeper. Dirtier. Something that’ll shake me up. Something that’s different from all the other men I’ve dated that have left me feeling lukewarm about them. I want to stand so close to the fire my eyelashes get singed.
“Something wrong?” Rhett asks as he carries me through the equally tiny living room and into the hallway toward the bedroom.
I do what I always do and paste a smile on my face. “Nope. Just wondering what you look like with just a cowboy hat on.”
His returning smile is warm. I did the right thing pushing away my doubts. This is Rhett I’m with. Any which way we’re together will be wonderful. All that electric tension between us for weeks tells me we’ll be good together.
He places me on a bed and sits me up on the edge before stepping back.
His gaze does a full sweep of my body, taking in every detail of my outfit.
I take pleasure in looking feminine each day, probably spending more time than I’d like to admit on how I present myself to the world.
But right now, seeing the way Rhett seems to enjoy looking at me, it’s all worth it.
“Are you sure?” his gaze comes back to my eyes, that rumble of a voice doing things to my stomach.
This man is too principled for his own good.
Holding his gaze, I stand up, our bodies now just a fraction of an inch apart.
I have to tip my head back, even with these heels on.
Reaching down, I grab the hem of my dress and pull it over my head in one motion, careful not to drag it across my face full of makeup or get it hung up on my earrings.
Rhett’s gaze finally dips, taking in the length of me that’s always remained hidden.
I place the dress on the nightstand and reach behind my back to unclasp the lacy black bra that matches the panties.
When it falls to the floor and my breasts are bare, I give him a saucy grin.
“Is this sure enough for you?”
“Goddammit, June bug,” Rhett murmurs, his hands clenched into fists at his side. I can see a bulge growing in his jeans. I know he likes what he sees. Which makes me bold. Maybe bolder than I’ve ever been with a man.
I run the tip of my finger over that bulge, feeling like a queen when he gulps in air and every muscle in his body flinches. “Now I do believe you promised me a ride today, Mr. Price.”
He swallows hard, then dips his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
He takes his hat off, putting it on top of my dress on the nightstand, then whips his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor.
He puts that hat right back on, which makes me smile even more.
Then his hands reach his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping while I wait with bated breath.
When he gets his hands in those pants, he pauses, dipping forward to lick up the side of my breast before pulling my nipple into his hot mouth.
“Rhett,” I gasp, not able to see what he’s doing because of the brim of the hat, but damn, I feel it. His tongue circles the tight bud, then hard suction. Teeth scrape lightly and then he’s back to sucking.
My body sways forward all on its own and that’s when he releases me.
He stands tall, a smile on his face I’ve never seen before.
Satisfaction with a hint of playfulness.
He grabs a condom out of his pocket and tosses it onto the nightstand.
Then he drops his jeans down his thighs, leaving himself completely bare.
His cock pops out to greet me, long and hard and clearly pissed off with how slow we’re taking things.
Rhett steps out of his boots and jeans, totally naked except for the cowboy hat.
His body is ridiculous. All muscle and tan skin.
He clearly does more than just work construction.
If middle age causes beer bellies and soft chests, it still hasn’t hit Rhett.
He grips the base of his dick and the sight of him trying to control himself makes me drop to my knees.
I need to taste him. I need to hear him pant.
Roar with pleasure. Knowing I’m the one making him lose his shit.
Except he backs up, then grabs me under the armpits like a child and lays me down on the bed. “Maybe later,” he says gruffly.
I pout, but quickly forget why I’m pouting because he places his hat on the bed next to my hip and shoves his broad shoulders between my thighs.
He runs his nose along my seam and inhales like an animal taking his time with his prey.
When his tongue darts out and parts me, I shout his name and part my legs to give him further access.
My thighs wrap around his shoulders and I’m pretty sure one of my heels kicks him in the kidneys when he dives in earnestly, licking, flicking, and sucking every square inch of me.
My fingers slide into his hair. My eyes squeeze shut and I toss my head against the pillow. For someone who doesn’t say much, he sure knows how to use his mouth in other ways.
“Rhett,” I groan, restless and thrashing about as I chase that first orgasm. I hope and pray this man has multiple orgasms waiting for me. Please let him not be a one-and-done kind of man.
His tongue never leaves me, just zeroes in on my clit, round and round it goes.
A finger slides inside of me and I shift my hips to feel more of it.
A second finger joins in and then it’s just a matter of time and rhythm, a dance Rhett seems all too aware of.
There’s no teaching him how fast or where or how much pressure.
The man knows his way around a woman’s body and I’m the lucky recipient.
I won’t last long, the foreplay of our flirtation having lasted weeks.
I shatter just seconds later, his name on my lips, and my body going stiff, then limp with pleasure.
Rhett lifts his head, that smug smile only amplified now.
Holding my gaze he removes his fingers from my body and wipes them on his cock, giving it a firm tug in his big hand.
I lick my lips, instantly in need of him inside me, even though I just experienced a top-ten orgasm.
He kisses his way up my body, ending with my lips, his kiss calm, patient, reverent. His body lies on top of me, but most of his weight is held by his elbows and knees. He’s warm and hard and breathing heavy just like me. It’s good.
It’s too perfect!
That little voice in the back of my head screams at me to make him as out of his mind as I feel every time he’s around. I feel like he’s holding back. Treating me like Mary London Winthrop, the woman too proper for a good ol’-fashioned fucking. Treating me like every man before him.
“I need you inside me,” I beg, breaking away from his sweet kiss.
“I will be, June bug,” he answers. “Just giving you time.”
I shove his shoulder, rolling him on to his back and straddling him. “I don’t need time.” My voice is harsher than it should be. I lower it to a soft flirtatious tone. “And you promised me a ride.”
I reach behind me and grab his cowboy hat, holding it out to him. Rhett looks mildly confused, but shoves backward to a half-seated position, his back against the small headboard, the hat back on his head.
“Come here, baby,” he grumbles, holding out his hand, the forearm tattoo making him look like a tough guy when I know he’s nothing but kindness and respect under that facade. He reaches out for the nightstand, but I don’t want anything between us. Can’t have anything between us.
I climb over his legs, my knees digging into the bed as I position myself over his hips.
I grab his cock and center it by my opening.
Rhett stares up into my eyes, letting me do whatever I want to him.
I sink down on his length all in one fell swoop, feeling stretched and happy and out of my mind all at once.
He grunts, his abs flexing as he crunches forward, probably surprised I took him in so quickly.
Thing is, he feels so good I don’t want to take things slow. Fuck slow.
Lifting and sinking like I’m trying to outrun my life, I ride Rhett hard. His hands grip my hips so tight I might see marks tomorrow, but he doesn’t stop me.
“Goddamn, Mary London,” he manages to say between gritted teeth. “We have hours.”
“Shush,” I say back, still keeping a rhythm I won’t be able to keep for much longer. I’ll either shatter into a million pieces or create a burning in my thighs so strong I’ll have to stop. My hands grip his pec muscles, using his hard chest as leverage.
He must know I’m desperate because one hand leaves my hip and grips my breast. Then it trails lower, between my legs, zeroing in right where I need it most.
“Yes! Right there,” I cry.
Lightning shoots across my eyes and pleasure crashes into me like a tidal wave.
My rhythm falters and my muscles give out.
My face is in his chest and my lungs beg for air.
Everything’s quaking but I hold on to the feeling of him inside me, making me cry out with pleasure.
I ride that orgasm until it’s just mini quakes. I’m boneless. All cried out.
And then Rhett rolls me onto my back, still hard and insistent inside me.
My eyes flash open.
Oh God. He didn’t orgasm.
Finding strength in my shame, I wrap my legs around his hips and slide my fingers into his hair, pulling him to me for a kiss. “Keep going,” I whisper against his lips.
And he does, softly, gently, a slow rhythm that wouldn’t shake a housefly. And when I feel him tense and shake, I open my eyes to watch him lose himself in me. It’s soft. Quiet. Intense, but muted. As if he doesn’t want to offend me with a loud shout of pleasure.
It’s controlled. Measured. Even in his orgasm he holds himself back. As if he needs to protect me more than being himself.
He cuddles me close afterward, and even when we make love again after a nap, he’s polite, attending to all of my needs.
Except the one need I actually have.
The need for this man to be out of his mind for me.