Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Blair
“ M y great-granddaddy made peach moonshine in the prohibition,” I said. “He made a fortune, and that was before he stumbled upon a stretch of land rich in iron and copper.
“He switched to mining and then established a manufacturing company that supplies copper and iron products for transportation, building, and construction.” Credits started rolling on the TV, but I didn’t mind. “Grandpa took over, made it go country-wide. He got into the medical industry, and when Daddy took over, we got into the tech industry with robots and car chips.”
I got distracted by the way Dallas was slowly tracing the rim of his cup with an extended middle finger, so slowly I wondered if he knew that he was doing it.
There were circles under his eyes, stubble on his cheeks, and his hair was all over the place as if someone had run their hands through it. He was also shirtless— did he know that too ?
God, I wanted to lean forward and touch him, run one hand down his muscled chest, pull up his shirt, and lick his abs. Instead, I fixed my gaze on the TV, certain that while the house was motionless, someone would walk by the moment I made a move.
His belly was concave with the way he was so lazily inclined on the couch, but that didn’t hide the corrugated abs and deltoids on him. His arm, stretched across the back of the couch, was muscled too, but under his armpit… there was something…
“Wait,” I shifted in my spot. “Do you have a tattoo?”
He lifted his arm, and there on his side was the stylized outline of a rearing horse. Its head and front hooves were in dark ink, but its body faded into swirls of smoke. I wanted to touch it—but I didn’t.
“I got it when I was twenty-one,” he said. “It’s mostly a reminder of where I came from and a visual promise to return one day. This was not how I’d imagined my return would be, though.”
I twisted my lips and looked down at my cool tea. “I haven’t seen anyone lining up to draw and quarter you, though. Not even Warrick looks mad at you.”
“He should be,” Dallas said. “Wouldn’t you be pissed if your older brother disappeared one night and never talked to you for over ten, fifteen years?”
“I’ll jump and scream for joy,” I laughed. “Is there a way I can sign up for that? My brother Wentworth is a supercilious dick with two brain cells fighting for third place.”
A laugh punched itself out of Dallas’ mouth, and he dropped his head to the back of the couch. I liked it when he laughed, like actually laughed, not all those sarcastic snorts and derisive grunts he was known for.
“Have you told him that?” he asked .
Setting the cup on top of an end table, I shifted to draw my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around them. “Many, many times, in various variations, but I doubt he understood any of them.”
“Have you tried punching him?” Dallas turned his head to me; his gray eyes glimmered under the low light.
“I did that when I was eight,” I said. “Knocked a tooth right out of his mouth.”
“Scrappy little missy, weren’t you?”
“I still am,” I said. “Don’t let the high heels and clipboard fool you. I can punch like a boxer.”
He shook his head. “I’d pay to see that.”
“I hope you don’t,” I said while unfolding my legs and setting them on the floor. “I’m going back to bed.”
As I got to my feet, Dallas said, “You can touch it if you want.”
I was confused for a moment. “Hm?”
“The tattoo,” he said, getting to his feet and lifting his arm over his head. “I know you want to.”
I shouldn’t. I knew I shouldn’t because this was playing with fire. But shit, I did it anyway and rested my hand on his side, right above his ribs. His skin was warm, verging on hot, and I traced the raised ink. His eyes were on me, sizzling like a laser, and I didn’t dare look up.
“This had to hurt like a bitch,” I said.
His chuckle was warm, “You’ve got no idea.”
His eyes didn’t leave my face. I pretended I didn’t notice, but I felt like heat rays were on my skin. I’m almost quivering under the intensity of his gaze.
“What?” I finally asked.
His eyes flicked to my lips again, as they had before the kiss, only now they lingered there like he couldn’t tear his gaze away .
Please , whispered my body.
Hell no , whispered my brain.
“Nothing,” his tone was ragged as he stepped back. “Nothing. Good night, Blair.”
I still felt the heat of his skin on my palm and clenched my fist. “Same, Dallas.”
As I headed to my room, I gave up on any attempt to sleep; if I hadn't had a wink before, I knew I would not have one now. Slipping into the room, I shed the robe, padded to my bedside table, and brushed a hand down the short silk shorts I had on; my skin felt hot.
What was I doing?
I knew Dallas wanted me, but he didn’t want to admit it. This— whatever we’d just had downstairs— was an aberration from the norm. I knew he still didn’t want me here just as much as I wanted to be elsewhere.
I’d never had hate-sex before, but God knew I wanted to taste it with him.
Tugging a pouch out, I took out the bottle of sleeping pills I rarely used— once upon a time, I’d been too heavily reliant on them— and shook out two pills, then went to my bathroom and took them with a glassful of water from the sink.
Going back to the bed, I slid between the sheets, pillowed my head on one soft pillow, and tugged a spare one to my chest. I had to prepare for tomorrow, back to work, overseeing this plant for Warrick and making sure Hunter gets the bang for his bucks— the two point five million of them.
The next morning, I was up by seven, showered, dressed in jeans and a polo with my hair in my usual bun, and while I was doing my minimal makeup, my phone rang.
A glance at the screen had my gut going sour; dropping the brush, I snatched the cell up and swiped right. “What the hell do you want, Wentworth?”
“Ah, there is my truant sister,” Wentworth Cullen said smugly. “How are you doing up there in the wild?”
What? How did he know that?
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I’m at work in Texas.”
“No, you’re not,” he said simply. “I know your boss sent you trotting off to Montana to some godforsaken ranch to wheel and deal some negotiation.”
“Are you spying on me again?” I asked tightly.
“Who told you I ever stopped?” Wentworth asked pointedly. I could picture his smug face as he sat in his thirteenth-floor office, twiddling one of his many monogrammed pens. “You know I have to keep tabs on you. Dad would hang me from the rafters if his baby girl was in trouble, and I didn’t know about it.”
“Well, seeing as he chose you to be his heir and CEO, I doubt he’d hang you,” I said.
“So, tell me, what it is like living in country ?” Wentworth’s derision came through with every syllable. “I doubt you’d get your chai latte, Golden Reserve Caviar, and blini out there.”
“Never liked caviar,” I said. “And you know that. You’re the only one who eats that stuff. Newsflash, brother, it’s pretentious as fuck and makes you look like an idiot.”
“My Strottarga Bianco Caviar at fifty-one thousand per pound would disagree with you,” he said. “Now, tell me about the country. Do they even have bathrooms out there? ”
“No, Wentworth,” he had to hear the sarcasm in my drawl. “We shit in the bush and use poison ivy to clean our behinds.”
“I thought so,” he said. “And before you lay into me, I heard your sarcasm, little sister. I am not oblivious.”
“We are twins, Wentworth,” I said coldly. “You are three minutes older than me and ten years emotionally stunted.”
“I love you too,” he laughed.
I was running out of patience. “Is there a reason for this call, Wentworth? Because unlike you, who has fifty aides to do your job and Dad to pick up after you, I have work to do.”
“Are you still peddling negotiations and making deals that do not benefit you?” Wentworth asked. “You know you still have a waiting position here instead. Why don’t you stop trying to make a point to father, come home, and help your own family? I am sure we can double whatever puny salary you’re getting from the meat manufacturer.”
“And work under you?” I asked. “No, thank you. I’d rather get a root canal with no Novocain.”
“How about triple?” he asked. “Unlimited vacation days, premium insurance, and all the fringe benefits you could ever ask for.”
At least once a year, Wentworth came around with an offer like this, and I told him the same thing every year. “I am happy where I am, thanks.”
Soon enough, he was going to come back with the don’t be a traitor to your family line.
“Aren’t you tired of being a lackey?” he asked. “You’ll be in command here.”
Second in command. “Have you ever heard the phrase, familiarity breeds contempt? ”
“I have,” he said. “Never cared to understand it, though.”
“Of course you haven’t.” I sighed. “I don’t need your job. I am happy where I am.”
He scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”
“Anything to deliver?” I asked. “Any new trophy girlfriends on your arm? Is Mom still going to Switzerland for her birthday, and is Dad still collecting Civil War collectibles?”
“I have no idea,” he said blithely.
“Goodbye, Wentworth,” I said, “You’ll be willing to pitch your offer next year as usual, and until then, please leave messages on my voicemail.”
I cut the call off and dropped the phone onto the table, already feeling a migraine coming on. Bracing my hands on the table, I looked at the pale strip of Burnt Sienna I’d applied to my left lid and considered wiping it off entirely. But the color on the right was blended perfectly and, with a grim feeling in my gut, finished the other eye.
Finished, and with my phone in my back pocket, I went downstairs, wondering which version of Dallas I’d get that morning. Was he his typical confident self, or was he more mellow like last night?
I still couldn’t believe our conversation last night; did his brother even know that side of him?
I entered the kitchen to find Miss Marie there, humming along as she stirred one of the five pots on the massive stove, and I could see the oven was engaged, too.
“Good morning, Miss Marie,” I said.
She smiled. “Hello, Blair, and please, just Marie.”
I laughed softly. “It’s my southern manners. Do you have any coffee going?”
Pointing to the pot across the room, she added, “ Would you mind taking another cup to Dallas? I don’t think he’s gotten his usual three cups.”
Even though I’m not particularly bad at mornings, one cup always got me going; for Dallas to have three, how crotchety was he?
I cocked my head. “Did you know Dallas before this?”
“Sadly, no,” she said. “But in the few days he’d been here, he’d been guzzling coffee like a camel does water. He’s out there on the ranch with the rest of the guys.”
“Hey Marie, do you have—” The door to the patio opened, and a woman came in, short, her blond hair stuck up with a pencil through it… and was that a screwdriver? She had a pair of blue overalls, most of which were stained with oil. She stopped in her place and stared at me. “You must be Miss Blair, right?”
“I am,” I replied. “And you are… Connie?”
“Yep.” She stuck her hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
“Thank you for the boots,” I said, “I'm going to ask you if I can buy them off you.”
“Nah,” Connie grinned. “You can keep ‘em. Consider it my welcome to the ranch gift to you.”
Even taken aback, I took her offer with grace. It was not gracious to press an offer after it was rejected. “Thank you. I owe you a coffee sometime.”
“A fancy one?” she grinned.
“As fancy as you want,” I laughed while crossing the room to fill the traveling cups with coffee. I didn’t know how Dallas took his coffee, so I took some small cups of cream, sugar sachets, and a spoon with me as I headed out into the backyard.
Luckily, Connie was a few steps behind and pointed me toward the stables. Before I went off, I asked her, “What are you doing so early?”
“Tuning up the ATVs.” She grinned. “We just got a new set of brake-pads to install; I’m replacing the oil and tuning up the transmission.”
The utter delight I heard in her voice made me smile inside; I liked women who went off the script and did something men said was theirs. I could change a tire on my Audi if needed, but I knew next to nothing about a car’s engine. I had roadside assistance and an army of mechanics for that.
“The guys love horses, and while I do too, I prefer motors. A four-wheeler was a rancher’s best friend. It didn’t need to be fed, vaccinated, or taken out for rides. It didn’t get lonely or break a leg in a hole.”
“What about when an axle shatters?” I asked.
Her face twisted. “Damn.”
“I hope it never happens, though.” I nodded. “But it sounds like you’ve got a fun day ahead of you, so I will see you later.”
“You betcha.” She headed off to the garage, and I walked over to the stables, which were mostly empty. A few horses were munching away in their stalls, but no humans were in sight.
I headed out to a pasture close by and saw the men on horseback roaming through the herd of bulls. I spotted Dallas in seconds, even under that beaten brown Stetson he wore. He rode a massive gray stallion like a professional, as if he’d never left the ranch and hadn’t sat at a desk for over fifteen years.
Muscle memory truly was something.
I stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was set with determination, and he appeared far more serious than usual— which was something in itself because he was always serious. With the sharp slant of his cheekbones and chiseled jut of his jaw, there was no doubt that Dallas was an attractive man with a brooding quality that drew ladies to him like flies to honey, kind of like that guy in the boy band with eyeliner and black clothes.
He lifted the hat to wipe his face and shook out his hair, which oddly, as early as it was, was wet to the ends.
“How long has he been out here for?” I wondered to myself.
Frankie, the cocky cowboy, rode closer and nudged Dallas with a sly smile, pointing him my way, and when he turned, the two rode over to me. I was behind a post with two coffees in hand, and when Dallas dismounted his massive mount, Frankie stayed on his brown mare.
“I never expected to see you here,” Dallas said while patting the horse’s neck. “Is there something you need?”
“Coffee,” I finally said, handing him the travel cup. “I’m not sure how you take it, so I brought cream and sugar, if you want. According to Marie, you are half human without your third cup.”
He eyed the sachets suspiciously.
“They’re not poison,” I told him.
Taking them, he asked, “Are you sure?”
“No,” I drawled, my face flat. “You see, because you irritate me so much, I left the ranch, jimmied your truck, drove all the way to Helena to get some liquid arsenic, made a chemistry setup in my room, and created arsenic crystals. Then I forgot I needed plastic, so I ran off back to Helena, got plastic, cut them into squares, and then realized I had forgotten the stamp and seal machines.”
“Oh, silly me. I am such a featherbrain. I jumped into the truck, took another trip to Helena, bought rare trademark seals from a back-alley sweatshop and aerosol glue, came back to the ranch, and put everything together, all before—” I checked my watch, noting the time was eight, twenty-five a.m., “—sunrise, and now here I am, giving you liquid death.”
His face was as blank as mine. “What about the cream?”
“Milk of magnesia,” I said. “I thought it was best for you to have a clean colon before you kicked the bucket.”
Frankie lost it and nearly catapulted over his horse’s head with how hard he was laughing. He grabbed the saddle horn and laughed till he shook like a rickety shed in the middle of a hurricane.
I turned back to Dallas. “Just take the damn coffee. You are worth more to me alive than dead.”
Resting the cup on the flat head of the post, he opened the cream cup, dumped it in, and added one sachet of sugar.
“One milk, one sugar,” I noted.
“Yep,” he mixed it and added, “I guess you’re the sort to have a bucket of skim milk and ten packets of Splenda, right?”
I must have made a face because he just laughed. “I’m sorry. You take it black, right?”
“Mostly,” I said, looking as he rubbed the horse’s ears. What I didn’t expect was Dallas’ horse leaning over the fence, nose at me— I froze. Was this one of those instances with a bear where you didn’t move, otherwise, he’d charge?
“Hello,” I said calmly. “May I help you?”
The horse closed its eyes with apparent satisfaction at the petting, its incredibly long lashes laying against its cheeks in bliss.
“Are all horses’ eyelashes this long?” I asked as the horse started to scratch harder.
“Yup. Keeps the flies out of them,” Dallas said. “Cows and horses have the longest eyelashes you’ll ever see. It's the same with their tails. ”
Sipping my coffee, I asked, “I suppose you’ve been riding all your life, huh?”
“From the moment I could sit in the saddle at three,” he said. “Before that, Dad held me on his lap when he went riding. I did the same when Warrick was born, too. I took him out as a baby, all swaddled up in four layers of clothes so he wouldn’t get sick.”
My heart twisted hearing that. “Sounds like you were a good big brother. My brother would have lashed me to the horse and gone off to sleep before telling Dad he took care of me.”
He canted his head. “How old is your brother?”
“Three minutes and forty seconds,” I replied.
“You’re twins.”
“Unfortunately.” I twisted my lips. “So, what are you guys doing up here?”
“Just monitoring,” he said. “Earlier, there was a part of the fence a bull had ripped apart, and we fixed it while the rest of us kept the bulls away.”
Something wet touched my nose, and I tilted my head up. I saw flurries of snowflakes drifting down. The sky was still mostly bright, but gray was creeping in at the horizon.
“I’ll be damned,” Dallas said, nudging his hat up and staring at the sky. “I was wondering when it would start.”
The flurries kept coming, and I had to ask, “What do you do with the bulls when winter comes?”
“We move them to the winter pasture that we’ve allowed to grow up so they can graze even when the snow comes down,” Dallas said. “At least that was what Dad used to do, and I can only think Warrick kept that tradition going. Bulls are hardy creatures, especially ones up this far. They can handle snow better than you and me.”
Well, that explained his wet hair .
“I don’t think it’s going to come down hard, but you never know,” he said, cocking the brim of his hat up a little more. “Montana’s weather is unpredictable.”
I trained my gaze toward the sky again. “I think I shall go back inside. I’m not used to snow.”
His brow cocked high. “Really? How come?”
“The last time it snowed in Texas was in 2011, a winter storm dubbed Snowpocalypse hit the state, but I was in Georgia at the time, and five or six years ago, it snowed one inch and shut the whole of Atlanta down,” I said. “I don’t have snowshoes or even a winter coat.”
“We can get some for you,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure Hank’s General Store has a good selection.”
He was testing me again, and while the part of me that wanted to shudder at knowing that whatever I got was going to be generic, I didn’t dare let that reaction out. “Sure. I'll take it as long as it keeps the tender bits without frostbite.”
“Okay, we can run to the store later on,” he nodded.
“I’ll see you then.” I held my cup up and offered him more sugar. “More crystallized arsenic?”
“Nah,” he shook his head. “You might need it more than I do.”
The town was softly coated with snow, just like a baker might dust sugar on a donut. The hoarfrost made everything look like Christmas, and I could definitely envision how the place would look with a full winter fall.
We stepped into the general store, and the warmth inside was a welcome contrast to the rising chill outside. The place was what I’d imagine a Walmart or a Goodwill looked like— I’d never stepped into one myself— only on a small scale. There were shelves in the front, freezers filled with frozen pizzas, meat, and drinks against a wall, while at the back were racks of clothes.
“See something you like?” Dallas asked.
“Why?” I replied while skimming the racks. “Are you footing the bill?”
“You wish.” He slid a look at me before wandering off. “You’re covering the gas bill to come out here, too.”
Laughing, I pulled out a thick purple coat that drew my eyes. It had a double breast and a hood for thirty-five dollars. I liked it immediately. I folded it over my arm, checked out beanies, and took a white one with a pom-pom on the end. Then, I went to the shoe section.
A man, short, stocky, bald with a bushy mustache, and in a brown and red flannel shirt, came around the corner. “Can I help you, miss?” he asked jollily. “Oh, you’re not from around here, are 'yah? There’s been whispers of this big city blond beauty up there with the Donovans, and I bet you’re the same one. A Miss Blair, is it?”
I shot a look at Dallas and then back to him. “That’s me. How do you know?”
He stuck out a hand. “Name’s Hank, Hank Garrison. This is my store. And this is a town of seven hundred people, miss, people gossip like they drink water around here.”
Dallas came back from the corner he’d gone off to, and I handed him my goods. “Please hold these, Dallas.”
Hank’s mouth dropped. “Dallas, as in Dallas Donovan? Betty told me you were around these parts, but I didn’t believe it. How are you doing, sonny boy? We’ve missed you around this place. How fondly do I remember how I had to wrestle those bags of Little Debbie cakes from you. Remember that? ”
This time, my jaw dropped. Was Dallas blushing? Yep, there were spots of red on his cheekbones. “I have tried to forget it, but it comes back to me at midnight.”
I asked, “Little Debbie?”
“Oh yes,” Hank said. “This one was a chunky kid, with round cheeks and a sweet tooth that was a mile long.”
I asked as calmly as I could because my insides were bursting with laughter. “Do you have a photo of that?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Dallas cut in. “I am sure he does. Are you done? Can we go? Didn’t you say you wanted coffee?”
I quirked a brow. “Almost.”
“Take all the time you need,” Hank said.
Crouching to examine the boots, I found a pair my size, faux leather, that had a military style. Then, getting to the personal items row, I plucked up a pack of tampons and dropped them on the pile in Dallas’ arms. He went red.
“Is there anything else you would like?”
“Nope,” he said, shifting from one foot to the other. “Can we just get out of here?”
“Sure,” I said as we headed to the register.
Hank looked at me and then at Dallas, and I wondered if he wanted to tell me something or, even better, give me something. Turning, I asked, “Dallas, can you run back to the personal care section and grab a box of hemorrhoid cream?”
He went red. “Oh Jesus.”
After handing the items over, he strode away, and I turned to Hank. “Do you have it?”
Like an Italian mobster sliding me an offer I couldn’t refuse, he slid a paper to me and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I made a quick copy of the one I had.”
Grinning, I tucked it into my pocket while I took out my cash for the items. He rang them up while Dallas came back with a box in his hand, and I rang that up, too. After paying sixty-seven bucks, I grabbed my bags and gave Hank a hearty thanks.
We left the store to find an inch of snow on the ground, and I made my way to the truck. Dallas was not happy.
“So, did you like Little Debbie more than Twinkies?” I teased him.
“Do me a favor,” he huffed. “Be quiet.”
So, gas and coffee?” The paper seemed to be burning a hole in my pocket as I handed him the box of hemorrhoid cream.
He looked at it as if it were a pile of muck. “Why are you giving me this?”
“For the days when you’re forced to take that pole out of your butt,” I said, smiling. “Now, where to next?”
“Home, unless you stop bugging me,” he grunted.
I couldn’t wait to get to the ranch and pull out the picture. The snow was coming down harder as we rode through the town to get what we needed, and when we got to the ranch, we used the porch floodlight to guide us into the lot.
Resting my empty coffee cup in the cup holder, I eased the picture out of my pocket and opened it; Dallas looked about eleven years old here, and yep, he was chunky.
“Oh, look at you,” I cooed. “Hank wasn’t lying.”
He took one look and reached out to snatch it, but I flung the door open and booked it to the front door, slipping and sliding as I went. Dallas was seconds after me, and I knew those long legs would eat up the tiny distance I had between us.
What would he do when he caught me?
I didn’t think about five minutes ahead. I could only think about right now; I needed to get to the door and get up to my room. I scrambled up the steps, leaping for the door, yanked it open, and darted inside, slamming it behind me.
Dallas blasted through that door like a bull in a china shop as I lurched to the stairs, knowing he was two long leaps from grabbing me. I was halfway up the steps when long arms circled my waist and hauled me onto a body hard as iron.
“Give me that picture.”
“No—” I tried to wiggle my way out of his hold but got nowhere. “You’ll never get it.”
“I’ll get it,” he promised, heaving me over his shoulder and trapping my legs with an iron bar arm. I tried to kick off but didn’t get too far. What I hadn’t prepared for— and honestly, who could have ever prepared for this— was his large hand landing a hard smack on my butt.
“Hey!” I yelped.
“Be quiet, or you’re getting another,” Dallas said as he climbed the rest of the steps and passed my room to stride up to another, a room in an attic, and he kicked his door in.
The room smelled like him— and my heart leaped to my throat.
“Now,” he said. “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”
I was still over his shoulder like a ragdoll and could hardly move. My eyes were level with his lower back and his butt. “For argument’s sake, what do you define as the hard way?”
He slid me over his shoulder and dropped me on my feet; I was disoriented as he backed me up against a wall, eyes searing. “Picture, now.”
“Nope.” I shoved the picture down my shirt. “You’re not getting it. ”
His gaze turned predatory. “You think that will stop me from getting it?”
“Yes.”
“How much do you like this shirt?” he asked.
What?! My brow knitted in two. “It’s quite comfortable. Why?”
He let the sound of the cloth ripping in two serve as his reply.
“Dallas!” I yelped, both hands flying to my bra. “That was expensive and?—”
“I’ll buy you another. On second thought, no, I won’t.” His voice thickened, his gaze drawn to the peekaboo cutouts on my black lacy bra, basically see-through, dainty, alluring, and sexy.
The folded picture was tucked in the center gore of both cups, sticking up as if saying hello, pick me, pick me. Dallas plucked the photo up, unfolded it, gazed at it, and then ripped it to shreds.
“There,” he said. “No blackmail material for you.”
“You know Mr. Garrison has the original,” I said, with my chin up. “What’s to say a couple hundred wouldn’t persuade him to give me a copy or five?”
His elbows met both sides of my head, and he leaned in close enough for me to go cross-eyed. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”
“A couple thousand then and an aggressive ad campaign that would get people from Nebraska coming to his shop,” I said.
Dallas’ eyes dropped to my lips. “You’ve got a smart mouth.”
“And I know how to use it, too,” I replied, feeling the air change to something simmering and sultry.
I kissed him .
It’s the wrong thing to do for about a thousand and ten reasons, and I know I will regret this later, but he kissed me back hard. Our bodies crushed together, his hand on my hip, his mouth opening, the kiss deepening.
His tongue searched my mouth like he’d been looking for buried treasure. The fingers of my other hand were speared through his hair, gripping the thick strands, his body firm against mine as his hand moved from my hips to behind me, kneading my spine.
Peeling my mouth away, I whispered, “This a bad idea.”
“I’ve had a couple of bad ideas in my life,” he said, eyes roaming over me. “Some of them turn out pretty good.”
Our lips crashed again, the kiss no less harsh than before. Dallas slid one hand up between us, teasing at my breast, and my body reacted. The nerves on my skin seemed to go into hyperdrive as I ran my hand over his torso and down under his shirt, his hot muscles flexing against my palm.
“And this one?” I asked.
“We’ll shotgun it,” he said, popping the front clasp of my bra, hiking me up the wall, and sealing his lips over my pebbled nipple.
“Fuck,” I gasped as he pinched the other one, rolling it between his fingers as my head went back against the door, my eyes shut.
His chuckle was nothing but devilish as he pulled off from my skin, kissed up my neck, and suckled under my ear. “Not yet, smart mouth. You said you know how to use your mouth. Prove it.”
As he dropped me to the floor, he shifted his hips, pressing me harder against the door, the thick ridge of his cock pressing into my thigh, even though there were four layers of fabric between us. The feel of his arousal, the feel of him, sent a thrill of pleasure through my body.
I slid my hand along his thick length. I knew I’m already wet for him and getting wetter by the second. “If you want my mouth, at least say please.”
He chuckled. “That is not how it works. What I say goes.”
I cupped his cock— hard, tilted my head and whispered. “Say, please.”
His gaze flared. “Get down on your knees and suck my cock… please.”
Dallas was intelligent; he’d twisted my order in a way that kept him in charge— but I wasn’t going to let him stay that way. I tugged at his shirt, and he growled in response.
Stepping away, he grasped the hem of his tee and yanked; the shirt landed over a lamp, his lips landed back on mine, and his hands quickly undid my blouse. Then my bra’s off, on the floor, and I grabbed the waistband of Dallas’s pants and pulled him in toward me, his mouth capturing mine again.
It felt, beyond good.
He’s turning me on beyond comprehension. He’s not inside me yet, and I’m halfway to bursting through my skin.
I bit my lip, trying not to show him how eager I am for this satisfaction. Dallas stepped back, and I sunk to my knees, pulling his pants open and tugging them down— Jesus, he was going commando.
His cock was monstrously erect, the crown fat and swollen purple, the vein bulging on the underside of his long, thick shaft. His cock brushed my cheek, and I had to hold back from turning and sucking the thick head into my mouth.
“Open,” he ordered .
I grinned, then took the crown of his cock into my mouth, teasing him first, licking the frenulum with flickering licks before I licked the slit at the top of his cock. I gripped his base and started stroking seconds before I took him down to my fist.
“Fuck.” Dallas slapped a hand to the wall over my head and grabbed my head.
Ignoring him, I bobbed my head, taking more of him each time. What I couldn’t swallow, my hands held and squeezed.
“Fuck, you were right,” Dallas groaned, his fingers playing with the back of my head. “You do have a smart mouth. Open your mouth. Wide as you can.”
I parted my lips, stretching my jaw. Dallas fucked my mouth slowly, keeping a tight hold on my hair, then tugged on my hair, then fucked my mouth just a bit harder.
“Roll and pinch your nipples as I fuck your mouth. Get yourself wet for me.”
I was pretty sure I was wet enough, but I still did as he ordered and rubbed and twisted my buds.
“That’s it, dirty girl, keep licking.” Dallas’s breath came in pants as I moaned around him; his hips kept a smooth stroke, but I could feel him thickening— and pulled off before he came.
“You’re not coming before you fuck me,” I said, getting to my feet and meeting his gaze. “Understood?”
“Is that your only term?” He asked while stripping off his shoes and pants, standing before me, spreading his arms wide, glorified naked.
I stripped the rest of my clothes before looping my arms around his neck. “Rock my body, make me come out of my mind with your cock in me, and the first person to come has to bring the other coffee every morning while we are here. ”
Smirking, he grabbed, lifted, and dropped me on the bed. Light flashed through his gray eyes. Now he’s wild, one hand in my hair, his lips on my neck, licking down at my collarbone; he bit, and I yelped.
“I won't be your coffee bitch,” he said.
“We’ll see about that,” I tried to keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head, but it was damn hard with Dallas sucking on one nipple, pinching the other with his nimble fingers, and the two fingers he fucked into my pussy.
The triple attack had me on the verge of busting, and Dallas, smug fucker, went on, his fingers still moving, now faster. What he was doing felt sinfully good, and I knew that if he kept that, kissing my mouth hard, his fingers working me to the edge. I’m going to come hard and fast in seconds, and I know it.
That cocky smile is there in his voice as he fucks me faster, his thumb slipping under the hood and finding my clit. The first press sent lightning through me, and when I could think again, I said, “I’m just impressed you can find the clit.”
He pinches it between his fingers, punishing me. “I took high school bio.”
Gripping his shoulders, I said, “I don’t think they had a chart of a woman’s erogenous zones next to the one where you dissect a fr— fuck!” I gasp, hips pistoning up. “I’m going to come.”
He finger-fucked me hard and kissed me harder— and I detonated, blinding pleasure rearing through me and every hair on my body standing on end, my skin washing hot. I couldn’t even breathe.