Chapter Nine
Dana
S he liked the way he said Lady Dana. As if there was nothing ladylike about her at all, which was good, because she had no intentions of being a lady tonight.
And she was curious— very curious—as to how much of a gentleman he planned to be.
Her brain entered the spirit of the game he proposed with the same enthusiasm her body displayed. It coaxed her to prolong the pleasure. To calm down and think. She had three options to choose from, and those were for starters. They were good ones, too.
Her brain had some suggestions, however. “For option three… I can look all I want while you take your clothes off?”
He smiled, as if expecting nothing less than rapt admiration from her. “Of course.”
“And if I want you to slow down so I can really appreciate what I see?”
His smile widened. “Then I’ll slow down.”
He’d always had a solid degree of self-confidence, but she hadn’t dreamed it might extend to the areas where she planned to stretch it.
“I’m not allowed to touch anything I particularly admire though, am I correct?” she said.
“That’s right.”
“But what if I want to watch while you touch yourself?”
The moon had crossed the sun’s path, drenching the world in pale shadow. A horse chuffed in the pasture, expressing contentment. An air of expectancy settled in. Her brain reassured her body that the payoff for patience was about to be worth it.
His smile grew so wide it threatened to outgrow his face. “Your wish is my command.”
“I choose option three, then,” she said.
He’d expected her to choose option two. She could tell from the way his thoughts regrouped on his face. He recovered quickly, however. His eyes promised payback.
“I can’t hold you and undress. I’ll have to put you on the honor system,” he said. “You can touch yourself if you want—but not under your clothes. Only on top.”
He took both of her hands and settled them strategically low on her belly, almost but not quite within reach of temptation. Soft fabric heated her palms as he showed her what he meant.
She arched an eyebrow. “This is your idea of dirty?”
Stars sparkled behind him as he rose and reached for his fly. “We’re still a long way from any dirty ideas I have.”
That was fine, because she had a few of her own. “Don’t take your jeans off just yet,” she said. His fingers paused in the act of unfastening the button. “Slide your hand inside your waistband. Pretend it’s my hand, if you like.”
He didn’t hesitate, which impressed and surprised her in equal amounts, but made a show of easing his hand into his jeans and under his shorts, then taking hold of himself. His eyes never left hers.
“Take off your jeans,” she said.
“Underwear, too?”
“Might as well.” So much for slow and admiring. She wanted to see him. She wanted to watch while he stroked himself, making note of the movements and rhythm he liked so she could replicate them when it was her turn to touch.
The boots and socks came off first, followed by the rest of his clothes. Then he stood, long-legged, lean-hipped, lazy eyes on her, and fisted an impressive length of rock-solid manhood—slowly at first, then faster and harder, until his breath turned all ragged and raspy. Her jeans grew damp to the touch. Her breath hitched. Her own fingers inched lower, imagining hers doing to him what she had him doing, until she was touching herself, too.
He kept their gazes connected. “I’ll be the first to admit I can’t take much more of this,” he said, his voice as raspy and uneven as his breathing, filled with humor and heat. He had one of those faces that perpetually smiled. “I’ve lost track of what option we’re on.”
“I’ll help you out. Keep doing what you’re doing. I’m going to take off my clothes.”
She’d stripped before—but never by moonlight, or with this much hungry tension between them. She didn’t bother with buttons, but jerked her shirt over her head and dropped it to the ground, then kicked it aside. She peeled her boots and jeans off, leaving her standing in her bare feet on the blanket, and unfastened the scrap of a bra. She turned around so that Levi had a good view of the thin line of lace dividing her buttocks. She hooked her thumbs in the straps and slid them down her thighs, then kicked them off. They joined the pile of their mingled clothes on the grass.
She dropped to the blanket and leaned back on her elbows, bending her knees and parting her thighs. Levi remained standing, legs splayed, erection on proud display, upright and rigid and throbbing. She toyed with her breasts, just to see his reaction. “You promised me fast and dirty.”
“Position?” he inquired, so politely, while pumping himself with his hand, that she almost lost any right she might have to choose.
“Missionary.” For starters. No need to shock him just yet.
He went to his knees. Placed his hands on her knees and widened her legs. He touched the tip of his tongue to the inside of her thigh, tracking it higher, then thrust it inside her. She held his head, arching her back, drawing him deeper while he licked and tasted, thrusting with increasing urgency, until an orgasm she couldn’t withhold was mere seconds away.
He stopped. Withdrew. Leaned over her as she lay gasping beneath him, begging— demanding —he finish.
“Tell me what you want. How you want it.”
“I want you to—” She uttered a phrase Lady Dana would never have used.
“Not yet,” he said, arms shaking. “But soon.”
Using one hand as a guide, he placed the tip of his erection between her thighs and rubbed it against her without penetrating. She called him a name, which made him laugh. Then he thrust, deep and hard, leaving her gasping from how completely he filled her.
And somewhat shocked by her immediate reaction. Two strokes from him had her clutching his hips, urging him deeper, as the tremors began, and the world blew apart. A ragged breath and sudden stiffness informed her scattered brain that he’d reached the same state as hers.
He stayed inside her, pressing soft kisses against the side of her throat and stroking her hip, until, to her disbelief, she came again with his name on her lips.
She must have dozed off. When she opened her eyes, she was on top of him, with her face pressed to his chest, while they used the wide, Montana sky as a blanket and a mild breeze dried their skin. Three early stars winked their appreciation for the show they’d received.
“If you think this was dirty, then I have a few things to teach you,” she said, because she had to say something, and thank you didn’t express what she felt. The attraction between them was high enough that finding sexual satisfaction together was a foregone conclusion.
However, she would never—not in a million years—have suspected how well he knew his way around women.
A rumble shook his chest under her ear. “What luck. I’m an excellent student. I draw the line at toys, though,” he said, winding a strand of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “Nothing against them. But if I can’t satisfy a woman using the gifts God already gave me, then I don’t deserve her.”
She was satisfied. No question of that. A warm throb against her stomach suggested she was about to be satisfied again.
As for who deserved whom…
“Let’s see how good I am at teaching,” she said, and got to her knees.
*
Levi
He discovered she was very good at it over the next several days.
Especially today.
Rain beat on the barn roof, slow and steady. Outside, the day was wet and chilly. Inside the barn, they were dry and warm. Very warm.
They were both naked. He had one palm pressed against the lower part of her spine while she gripped the rail on the top of a stall with both hands, long legs bent and spread, and he was taking instructions from her as he pumped inside her from behind. The soft, eager noises she was making, urging him on, almost finished him off, but no way he was coming first.
Tight muscles clenched him, and he knew she was close. He picked up the pace, his knees bucking against the backs of her thighs, his free hand clutching a handful of her hair. She threw her head back, crying out, and he lost his self-control. He moved his hand from her hair to her breast, and mouthed words of encouragement into her ear, his body tight against hers while she came.
She pressed her forehead against the wooden stall, her eyes closed, and emitted a soft sigh of pleasure. He stroked her damp skin, touching her breasts, her stomach, the long line of her spine, while his tongue sampled the curl of her ear. He loved these few moments after, when he was inside her, and they were both too satisfied to move but not too tired to explore.
Sex with her was a puzzle he planned to crack. She was invested in it. No question about that. But when it came to the deeper aspects of intimacy—pillow talk, for example—she cashed in her chips and went home. He’d learned nothing new about her over the past several days, although confirmed a few things he’d only suspected.
She had two distinct sides to her. In public, she was the ice queen. Calm and in control. In private, she liked to let loose. And when she was naked, hot didn’t begin to describe her—although insatiable came close. There wasn’t much she wasn’t willing to try.
Both sides of her, however, were equally untouchable. He couldn’t seem to find that warm, in-between place with her where true intimacy thrived between couples.
She was beautiful, and sexy, and so incredibly complex, he was borderline terrified of her. She treated each instance of lovemaking as if it might be her last. It was both wildly exciting and deeply disturbing, because while he could make love to her until they were both ninety and never grow bored, he had a good idea she viewed him as someone much, much shorter term.
He started to withdraw, the slide of his skin against hers leaving him semi-hard and reconsidering whether they were really done exploring this particular position just yet, when a ball of fur scurried over his foot and dived into a crack between the bales of hay stacked in a corner.
He jumped, and the quick movement resolved his dilemma. Dana shifted her hips, protesting the sudden disconnect of their bodies, and glanced over her shoulder to check out the cause.
She let go of the rail on the stall and straightened, her startled blue eyes losing that slumbrous sheen of fulfillment he liked, since he’d put it there. Long, loose dark curls tumbled to the tips of plump, rosy breasts.
“What was that?” she said.
“Otto’s cat.” And he had a hunch he knew what its hurry was.
He also saw an opportunity to share more with Dana than sex. Remnants from the previous winter, the hay was too dusty for horse feed and would end up as compost. Right now, it served as a nursery.
He didn’t bother to get dressed but began rearranging the bales, and soon found a nest of white-and-black, tiger-striped kittens burrowed inside. Their eyes weren’t yet open, but they mewled indignation against the fresh draft of cool air.
“Kittens!” Dana exclaimed, moving in for a closer look.
She’d wriggled into a stretchy green tank top that covered her breasts but left her flat stomach bare. She’d added a thong—because it covered so much—and slid her toes into flip-flops.
The flip-flops he understood. Barn floors weren’t the cleanest. The purpose of the piece of lace she passed off as panties eluded him, however, unless it was intended as a distraction, which it certainly was.
The mama cat eyeballed them with a lack of concern that stated she considered them no threat, so Levi reached into the nest she’d made for her babies and lifted one kitten out. He passed it to Dana, who cupped it carefully in her palm, as if it were made of delicate glass. She stroked its soft, baby dander with the tip of her finger. Tiny paws splayed, attempting to extend claws that hadn’t yet fully formed.
He’d half-hoped the kittens might spark conversation. That he could satisfy a different kind of need on her part. But it seemed she wasn’t ready to share confidences with him in the same way she shared her body.
Wordlessly, she returned the kitten to him. He reunited it with its litter mates, then repositioned the bales of hay so they were again snug and secure.
Once they were safely concealed, Dana moved into his arms. Light fingers traced the muscles riding the undersides of his shoulder blades. She rose on her toes and kissed him. He hardened and rose in response. The scrap of lace vanished. So did the cropped tank top.
Seconds later he was inside her again, thrusting his hips upward as she wrapped her legs around his waist, with him partially supporting her weight on his thighs.
His brain tried to remind him that they’d have to come up for air sooner or later. That eventually, they’d grow tired of nothing but sex, no matter how good it was. And that, when they did, they were going to talk. About so many things.
Slender fingers slipped between them, exploring the sensitive sac beneath his erection, where their two bodies connected. His lungs expelled air in short, ragged pants, and his thoughts ended abruptly.
Talking could wait.