“I’d never do anything to you that you didn’t want me to do. I’d never hurt you or cause you pain.” He reached for the knot at her nape. “Not unless you asked me real nice.”
Chapter Twelve
DETOUR ON HIGHWAY TO HELL
The knot beneath Dylan’s fingers slipped free, and the straps of her dress slid from her shoulders. Dylan looked deep into Hope’s eyes, and saw exactly what he needed. It was there in the slight lowering of her lids and the spark burning like a clear blue flame. He cupped her breast and felt her pucker beneath his touch. She ran the tip of her tongue across her lip, and he kissed her, tasting desire on her mouth. Her desire for him. His desire for her. The same desire that had kept him up last night and had turned him hard as stone.
He pushed down the straps and the dress fell to her waist and stayed there. Then he leaned back to look at what he held in his hand. Perfect. Soft. The shape of a pear, her nipple like a tight little raspberry. Her breast filled his big hand, and he squeezed softly. He felt the intake of her breath; she held it.
How could he have ever thought one night with her would be enough? After one night he wanted her more than before, when she’d been just a fantasy. Now he knew she was better than a fantasy. Better than anything he’d ever held in his hands. And he knew that as long as she was within his reach, he would reach for her.
She grasped the end of his T-shirt and tugged it from his jeans. He took over and pulled it over his head, and before the T-shirt hit the floor, her hands were on him. On his sides and shoulders and moving down his chest. She leaned forward and kissed his throat. Her warm, moist tongue sent shivers throughout his body and made him so hard he throbbed.
Her fingers combed through the hair on his chest, leaving a path of fire to the waistband of his pants. She unbuttoned his fly, reached into his jeans, and took him out. That was one of the things he liked about Hope. She wasn’t shy about going after what she wanted.
Dylan looked down between them, between her breasts to his penis resting in her soft white hand. He didn’t know how things would work out for them, and at the moment, he didn’t care. His blood pounded in his veins, his head, and his groin. Lust pulled his gut into a hard knot. He wrapped his hand over hers and moved it up and down, sliding within the soft velvet of her palm.
He knew there would come a time when he would not be able to touch her. When she wouldn’t be here to touch him, but she was here now, and he wanted this. He wanted the ache in his gut and the heavy throb in his belly. He wanted the feeling of being hit by a runaway train. Of being flattened by something he couldn’t and didn’t want to stop.
He kissed her mouth, the side of her face, and her throat. He untied the back of her dress and it fluttered to her feet. She stood before him in nothing but silky blue panties. She brushed the head of his penis across her smooth stomach, and his knees about buckled under him. Even though he knew better, he wanted this to last forever.
“Make love to me, Dylan,” she whispered.
He placed both her hands on his shoulders. “You city girls,” he said as he lifted her from the pool of her dress. “You’re always in a hurry.” Slowly he lowered her, sliding her down his body. The hard points of her breasts grazed his chest, and he held her against him. Nipples to nipples, their groins pressed together, his erection shoved up against her thigh and crotch. “We have all day. All night, too.”
With her mouth poised just above his, she asked, “You don’t have to be anywhere? No pressing responsibilities?”
“Nope. I already talked to Adam today, and I left his dog at my mom’s.” He ground his hips into her. “The only place I want to be is right here.” He would have stood like that longer, but she wiggled from his grasp. With his body painfully aroused, he watched her walk away.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t go anywhere.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
He glanced down at himself, at his erection jutting from his pants like a piece of driftwood, and wondered just where in the hell she thought he would go.
Hadn’t she just asked him to make love to her? He reached for his wallet and pitched it onto the coffee table.
“Do something useful,” she called from the dining room. “Take off your clothes.”
He kicked off his boots and stuffed his socks inside. As he shoved his pants down his thighs, the sounds of a steel guitar and a fiddle filled the house. He tossed his jeans by his boots and looked up. Hope reappeared, walking to him, her breasts bouncing a little with each step. From the other room, Dwight Yoakam sang about a wild ride. Damn, he wasn’t going to be able to hear Dwight any more without thinking of Hope moving toward him in nothing but her little panties.
“I’ve never listened to country-and-western music,” she said. “I want to broaden my horizons. Experience something new.”
He grabbed her and folded her into his chest. With the length of her pressed against the length of him, he figured it was his duty to give her a new experience. While Dwight sang about a woman rubbing her hand up his thigh, Dylan created a little friction, rubbing against Hope Spencer’s thighs and filling his hands with her little behind covered in those thin, silky panties. Her breasts were pressed into his chest and he ground his pelvis into her. He kissed her hard, a long, wet tangle of tongues and smashed mouths gasping for breath. He slid one hand around her side and down into the front of her panties. She was wet, and when he felt her where she was warm and slick, a long, rough moan sounded deep in her throat.
She wiggled from his embrace once more, but this time she didn’t leave him. “Sit down,” she ordered, her voice sounding as drugged as he felt. She didn’t wait for him to follow her request. Instead, she shoved her hands on his chest and pushed until he sat on the couch. She stood between his widespread knees and pushed her panties down her thighs. As she kicked them behind her, he ran his gaze up her legs to her bikini line. Just last week, he’d wondered if she was a natural blonde. Now he knew she was, and Jesus H., walking around with that kind of knowledge had nearly killed him already. Just that morning, he’d been picturing her crotch and had driven a tractor into the side of his mother’s barn.
Just looking at her now made it hard to breathe. “I need a party hat,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s a condom in my wallet.”
She took his wallet from the table and slid the gold foil-wrapped condom from inside. “I thought you didn’t come over here for sex.”
He smiled. “Well, a guy can hope, Hope.”
One brow lifted as she unwrapped the condom and slipped it between her lips. Then, before his astonished eyes, she put it on him with her mouth. “Oh, God,” he groaned as she broadened his horizons and gave him a whole new experience.