Dallon by Matthews, Lissa (1)

 

 

 

 

Dallon

A Simple Need Story, 2

 

Lissa Matthews

©2018 All Rights Reserved

 

Previously published as Carnal Ecstasy with Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

 

 

Cover Art by Blackraven’s Designs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What started out as a pretty typical day, quickly spiraled when Dallon saw her. Buttoned up, full of curves, with a voice smooth as honey and eyes so innocent the flames of Hell warned him to keep on moving.

 

But then she walked into his bar, out of place and full of determination, and asked him to teach her all the things a downy, pure girl like her didn’t need to know.

 

What’s a guy like him supposed to do when temptation exits the Heavenly Highway straight onto Sin Street?

 

Warning: What Dallon does with a beer bottle may be illegal in forty-eight out of fifty states…and at least two territories.

 

 

Dallon wiped down the bar for what seemed the hundredth time. Damn. Was the night ever going to end? He didn’t want to be there. He loved the bar, loved being in the bar, loved owning his third of the bar. It was his home, his haven, but tonight he just couldn’t muster up the energy for it.

Tossing the rag in the sink, he braced his hands on the edge. He knew exactly why he was so restless. The woman he’d met at the grocery store earlier in the day. Carrie.

He’d walked out carrying his purchases and stopped dead when he heard her voice. She was talking on the phone and he did nothing but stare at her. Dressed conservatively in a knee-length skirt that hugged her hips and a blindingly white, stiffly starched button-down shirt, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and all he wanted was to pull on it. He’d wanted her on her knees right then and there, sucking the hell out of his dick while he held his bags of pretzels and cans of peanuts in one hand and pulled on that ponytail with the other. And here, hours later, he wanted her still, naked on the bar, with her legs over his shoulders while he ate at her pussy. He wanted her and the innocence in her eyes so much he hurt.

They spoke briefly when she’d approached him and asked for directions to her new job. She’d explained that she was new in town, knew how to find her way from her apartment to where she would be working, but that she’d gotten all turned around while running errands and was lost. As she talked, all he could see in his mind was his ass burning in hell for the outrageously impure thoughts he was having about her mouth, her tits in a bra he figured was serviceable and not at all sexy, and the holy land between her thighs. He’d had virgins and innocents before, and at times loved being the one to pop cherries. But this particular cherry was not going to be picked by him because she worked at the one place he swore never to associate with again. She was off limits.

What a goddamn fucking shame, too.

She’d asked his name and had willingly given hers, something he could have gone without knowing because now he knew what to call out when he came later. And that was only going to make it worse. Her name on his lips, frolicking around in his mind.

Dallon looked up at the clock. Thirty minutes and he could close everything down for the night. He could lock up and head upstairs, jack off to the memory of her sweet, soft self. It was probably a good thing he didn’t know where she lived or that’s where he’d be going. He didn’t think someone like her would venture into a bar, so he was safe there too, even though she’d asked where he worked and if it was likely she’d be seeing him again, how it would be nice to have at least one friend.

He’d cursed himself for telling her where the bar was at the same moment he was giving her those directions too. Resisting temptation had never been his strong suit and damned if he wasn’t tempted from head to toe by her lush body and sweet voice and dark chocolate eyes.

“Hello, Dallon.”

His head shot up and his gaze landed on her. “What the hell are you doing here?” he barked.

Her eyes widened at his harsh tone, but she hadn’t missed a step. He hadn’t meant to, but he was too close to the edge. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just …” She smiled and his words fell away. God help him.

She walked closer to the bar and him, undeterred, unruffled. “It’s all right. I’m as surprised as you are. Maybe more so.”

Perhaps she wasn’t as unruffled as he thought.

She was so pretty, though. So sweet, so downy and pure. He wanted to defile every inch of her flesh until nothing could ever erase the memory of him from her skin. He wanted her, but he really fucking needed her to leave. “You shouldn’t be here, Carrie.” Literally, the man or woman upstairs needed to send a bolt of lightning south and strike him dead for the thoughts he was having about this woman.

“Why not? This is a bar and I want a drink.”

He sighed. Why not, she asked. There were a million reasons. Dirty ones, lovely ones.

Something about the way his heart sped up around her, the way his gut knotted just thinking about her. She had that … that thing he’d heard people wax poetic about. She had that draw on him the way Elise had on his buddy Vinter.

The kinds of things he wanted to do to her, that she wanted him to do to her, would ruin him for any other woman. He could twist her and she’d let him. Happily.

“A drink, huh? Anything in particular?” He’d bet the night’s take that she’d never had a drink in her life.

If he were a smart man, he wouldn’t give her a drop. He’d instead, escort her out, lock the door behind her, and close the place until she was well and truly ensconced with the holier than thou up the road.

“Maybe a beer?”

“Maybe a beer? Really? Okay. You want what’s on tap or a bottle? You want dark or light? You want something local or something that you can buy down at the Jiffy?”

“I, uh … How about one of those with the lime? I like lime. You know the one I’m talking about? Their commercials have couples on the beach or friends gathering in a backyard.”

Couple on the beach. Right. Friendly gatherings. And she liked lime.

Dallon shook his head. If she wasn’t sitting in front of him, he’d have laughed. She was way out of her element with him and she had to know it. It was as clear as the sign on the outside of the building. “You ever had a beer?”

“I … Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Am not.”

He let it go and pulled three bottles from a chest. Their customers liked bottles dripping with ice and water. He didn't mind. The bar was about good times, good booze, and good snacks. He could make a hell of a cup of coffee, too.

He popped the top on the three beers and set them on the counter in front of her. Two he slid a lime in, one said Lime on the label.

“Be easy with it. Don’t take a big swallow at first.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she said, picking up the one labeled light with lime. It was the cute how her nose wrinkled when she took a sniff.

“That the one you meant?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t, but she was going to go down fibbing about it and he admired her for it.

“Do you like beer?”

The question struck him as odd because what did it matter if he liked it? But as he watched her eyes, he saw the uncertainty and the bravado begin to slip.

She needed to know she wasn't alone. That’s why it mattered to her. And that’s why it mattered to him. “Yeah. Every now and then I like to have a few.”

She gave a short nod and put the bottle to her lips. “Okay.”

Dallon watched as long as he could after she wrapped her mouth around the glass edge. She tilted it, letting some of the smooth, golden liquid flow. He bit back a groan and looked away. All he could think about was her lips wrapped around his dick, and her throat swallowing his come.

“So, ah … What do you think?”

She took another small sip, then a bigger sip, and then set the bottle back down on the bar. “It’s hard to describe. It’s not a pleasant taste, but it’s not a bad one either.” She smiled. “I … I like it.” Even as she nudged it away. “How much do I owe you?”

“That’s all you wanted? A couple of sips? Needed to wet your whistle, as they used to say?”

“I guess, yeah. Something like that.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s on the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t accept that,” she said, and slipped her hand into her purse.

Dallon reached across the bar and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. The contact was sizzling hot and he fought against the urge to snatch his hand away, and the urge to drag her toward him. “Yes, you can accept it. It’s on the house,” he said again. He didn’t want to let go, but he did. It was time for her to leave, time for him to lock up and forget he’d ever met her. He liked being single, unencumbered. He liked one-night stands and no morning-after awkwardness. If he had her once, he’d have her again and again. Not good for his peace of mind and his carefree existence. And he was no fucking good for her. “I need to close up, Carrie.”

He didn’t know what else to say, but she didn’t respond. She was looking around the bar, turning full circle on the stool. When she faced him again, she picked up the bottle and took another swallow. Damn, but she had a pretty mouth.

“I don’t want to leave.”

Shit. He’d know she was going to say something like that. The girl didn’t take a hint. Or maybe she did and simply chose to ignore it.

Don’t say anything, man. Not a word. Not a single solitary goddamn word. “You should.”

She raised her eyes to look him square in his, a silent challenge reflected there. The bravado was back full force. “Why?”

He planted his hands on the edge of the bar and leaned toward her until he could smell the beer on her breath. “Because you don’t me. You don’t know who I am and you don’t know what fire you’re playing with.”

She licked her lips. “W-who are you?”

No sense lying about it or anything else now. “The devil himself.” At least that’s what his father told him every time they were in the same room together.

“Now who’s lying.”

And there it was. Even if he could protect her, she didn’t want protection from him. “You asked directions to the college earlier.”

“They offered me a job a few weeks ago in their financial aid department. A favor to my father who’s an alumnus. Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

“The dean is my father. He’s also the pastor of the big downtown Baptist church here.”

“Oh. Does he know you work in a bar?”

“Do your parents know you’re in a bar drinking beer?”

She blushed and Dallon’s jeans tightened that much more. Pretty soon he wouldn’t be to take a step without wincing.

“That’s what I thought. You don’t need to be messing with me, Carrie. If ever there was a black sheep, I’m it. My reputation is very, very bad, and it's best that you go. Now.”

She lowered her gaze and he thought he’d gotten through to her. He hadn’t said much, but he hoped it was enough. When she looked back up at him, he knew he was in deep trouble by the sheen of tears. She took a shaky breath before she spoke again.

“I quit my job.”

She said it so softly that he wasn’t sure he’d heard right, but the determined set of her jaw told him he had. “Before you even started? Why?”

She blinked to keep the tears from falling. “I want something in my life that is all mine, that no one else has a say in. I’ve never had that kind of freedom and now that I’m out on my own, out from under my parents’ thumbs, I want it.”

Don’t ask, man. Please for the love of all that is twisted and dirty, don’t fucking ask. “That’s all you want? Freedom? You’re on your own. Freedom is what you’ve got. To do and be whoever you want. Having a job helps with that.”

“You don’t understand.”

But he was afraid he did. And if he asked one more question, uttered one more phrase, FedEx was going to bust through the doors. They’d package his ass up, deliver him straight to Hell by ten tomorrow morning. Guaranteed. “What else do you want?”

“You.”

His dick throbbed at the word. “I’m not the kind of guy you need. I don’t do good girls,” which was a huge lie, “and you are one. I don’t do tears either. Unless of course they’re the kind that come from me spanking the shit out of you. Or … The kind that come from you begging me to stop fucking your ass so hard. But those tears you have right now? Nope. I don’t do those tears.”

As he spoke, shock widened her eyes, her mouth formed a little “O”, and her cheeks turned a delectable shade of dark pink. She curled her fingers under, then flattened them out on the bar, pressing down until the tips were white. Had that finally gotten through to her? Had he finally said the right thing to get her to leave?

“Well, okay.”

Her body relaxed, and she dropped her hands and her gaze to her lap. Yes, she got it. Dallon breathed a sigh of frustrated relief and ignored the pinch of disappointment. He wasn’t right for her. She was too clean for him.

He almost had himself convinced, but then she spoke. It was hard to hear her at first, but as she continued, her voice grew louder with anger.

“It’s not up to you to decide what kind of guy I need. If you don’t want me, if I’m not the kind of woman that you … that you ‘do’, that’s one thing …” Her gaze clashed with his. She was full of fire and when the light hit those dark brown irises of hers … Fuck.

“… But don’t tell me what I do and don’t need. I’ve had enough of that in my life. I can make my own choices, my own decisions.”

Dallon smiled. His little innocent had spunk. He should’ve known better. The good girls always did.

“Look, I get it. I’ve been there. I’m trying to keep a promise and I’m trying to do the right thing. Not for me, but for you.”

“I don’t need you to do the right thing for me. I’m a big girl.”

That she was. All grown up and his for the taking.

“What promise?”

She asked questions as though she knew him. As though they’d known each other their whole lives. As though she wasn’t prying into private shit that was none of her business. Normally, he didn’t go for that and would tell the person to fuck off. But not her. She could ask any damn thing she wanted, and he’d tell her. “To my father. Told him I wouldn’t mess with girls from his Bible thumpin’ school.”

“I see. Well, I’m not one of those anymore, so you’re not breaking a promise. Technically speaking.”

Well, shit. Now what? If she wasn’t going to take his hints or his flat out telling her to go, how was he supposed to fight her? Was he supposed to fight her and the lust clawing through him? Oh, he knew that he should still walk away, that he should try harder to convince her he was bad news, but he wasn’t going to. The woman said she wanted him and he was naughty enough that he was going to let her have him. “Okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t tell you what you need. And I do want you, but I don’t want you to have any regrets after, either. That’s how a lot of these things turn out. I’m a self-admitted bastard and I don’t play by the same rules as other guys. I don’t want you hurt when I don’t turn out all sweet and tender with you. I don’t want you crying when who I am between the sheets isn’t the green grass you thought looked good from the other side of the street.”

“Oh. I’m glad. That you want me too, I mean.”

She was looking everywhere but at him now, and he had to bite back a laugh. She was going to be more fun than he’d first imagined.

He took the beer from in front of her and poured it down the sink.

“Why are you doing that?”

“I want you sober and neither of us know how much you can handle without getting tipsy.”

“Okay.”

He eased around the end of the bar and over to the door. “Now or never, Carrie. This is your last chance to go.” She watched him and shook her head, a slow left to right movement. She didn’t make any other moves or sounds. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“N-no.”

Another little lie from her pretty lips. She would need confession before they finished. He flipped the lock into place, the sound of the metal sliding into its chamber echoing loud in the empty room. The lights were next, but he only turned off the ones in the main room. Behind the bar was still lit. That one would go out soon, too. Much as he wanted to see her naked and spread on the dark wood, he wanted her in his bed this first time.

“I want this. No sense being nervous or uncertain after putting myself in this position.”

Her words didn’t match her actions, though she’d put him in his place for telling her what she did and didn’t want or need. She would be a hellcat once out of the shell that cloaked her.

Measured steps took Dallon back toward her until he stood in front of her. He reached out and brushed at the hair that curled around her face. “You said your father went to school here. You didn’t?” He asked the question as he wedged himself between her knees. If his bent a little, and if he pushed forward …

Instead, he continued to touch her, watching the soft waves of her hair wrap themselves around his fingers.

He might have said he wouldn’t be tender, but damn, she had conflicting effects on him.

“No. I … I attended one in Tennessee. My father secured the position and the apartment for me. I’ve only been here a couple of days and got myself turned around.”

Her breathing trembled. Her eyes dilated. Her cheeks turned a pretty pink.

Too many people tried to rule over others’ lives. Dallon knew exactly what that was like. “Tell me more of what made you quit.”

“You. I t-told you. And f-freedom to be my own p-person.”

The pulse in her throat throbbed a bit harder and he pressed his thumb against it. It was only a light touch. He liked knowing he affected her so much. “And I told you to tell me more, about either, I don’t care.”

“I want you. I’ve never wanted a man like this before. I’m not even sure I’ve ever wanted a man.”

“Explain.”

“I mean … I mean no man has ever … I mean … This is hard. I don’t know what you want me to say.” She pressed her lips together then let out a breath. He waited. “I haven’t dated much. I’ve been with guys, back in college, but it was only to experiment with s-sex. They were nice enough and I liked them, I guess, but … It wasn’t like this.”

“Keep going. You’re doing good.” She’d become bolder as she talked. She’d warm up to the frankness and the honesty. If she didn’t, she’d bolt. Dallon wasn’t going to push her either way.

She wanted freedom. With him, she had it.

Sure, he’d said she couldn’t leave after he locked the doors. But that was his own little white lie. She could leave anytime. Then, or now.

“I didn’t have much free time. But I wanted the experience. I wanted to know what it felt like, to feel something with someone else.”

“I understand what you’re saying. Why me?” His fingers drifted to her collarbone, tracing the delicate skin, before moving down her arms, to her hands. Lifting them, he placed them on his hips. She was hesitant for a second, but then she tugged and pulled at his belt loops. Heat wormed its way from his chest down to his crotch.

“Why not you?”

Her gaze never wavered. She kept her eyes locked on his. She was blushing, but she didn’t look away and she didn’t drop her hands. It was hot, sexy.

“You’re a little tease.”

The blush deepened, but still she stared at him, unblinking. What would those eyes be like when she orgasmed for him? When he came inside her, on her, all over her tongue?

“Why?”

“You see everything. You want to see everything.”

“I want to experience everything. And I like the way you talk. You say what you mean. You don’t try to hide it behind other words.”

“No, I don’t. There’s no need or reason to. You’re brave enough to look me in the eye, to walk into my bar and tell me what you want. I won’t insult you by beating around the bush.”

Again, her fingers tightened and tugged on the belt loops of his jeans. “Thank you, Dallon.”

He loved the way his name sounded on her lips. So much. He leaned forward, hovered over those lips, felt the breath that escaped them, saw her eyes drift closed, eyelashes fanning her cheeks. He wanted a taste more than he could remember ever wanting anything. “I’m going to do things to you that no one else would dream of doing to one so clean and wholesome.”

“Please …” she whispered.

The longer he put off the kiss, stayed just inches away, her breathing changed, hitched and shuddered. Her eyes remained closed, but rapid movement behind the lids told him she was anything but calm and centered. “I’m going to warp you, my little innocent.”

She moaned, oh so softly, and that’s when he tasted her. Strawberry lip gloss and beer. He didn’t press, didn’t pressure, but waited for her, waited to see what she would do. He didn’t have to wait long before her tongue took a shy lick of his lips. When he licked her back, he again waited. Her next move was to slide her tongue into this mouth, testing the edges of his teeth.

A small groan escaped him at her slow exploration. He was on fire, but he wouldn’t rush her. She lifted her head, though the separation only lasted for a second and her mouth crashed down on his.

It was all-consuming, lacking finesse, and the hottest fucking kiss he’d ever had. Her tongue was everywhere, and he pressed in tight between her thighs. He nipped at her and she jerked her head back.

“You bit me,” she accused.

Dallon grinned. “You’ll know when I bite you and that wasn’t it.”

“Oh. Can we keep kissing, then?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

He took two steps backward, and instead of letting go, she followed him until she was standing. “Because if we do, I’ll be fucking you on the barstool.” Her eyes widened, but there was no fear in them. Anticipation, maybe. Hope, definitely.

“You like talking like that, don’t you?”

“Like what?”

“Cursing. Talking dirty.”

“In general and when it comes to sex, yes. It’s shocking for some, fun for others. And when it comes to you, little girl, I have a feeling I’ll be cursing a hell of a lot more.”

She erased the few inches of distance between them. “Why?”

“You’re a good girl, Carrie. Too good for the likes of me.” Second thoughts poured through his words. She frowned and he knew she heard them, too.

“Make me a bad girl, then. I want you to. Please. What do I have to do? How do I convince you I’m serious? I’m not looking for easy or sweet. I’ve been around sweet my entire life. I’m looking for more, for different, for bad.”

What did she have to do? She’d offered herself more than once. He said he accepted her desire and what she wanted. Yet, he was still pussyfooting around. Shit.

She was ready to put up, put out, and he was being a gentleman about it. “Strip.”

“Strip? As in take my clothes off? Here in the bar?”

“Yes.” He took a seat at a nearby table, crossing one booted foot over his knee.

Her fingers found the buttons on her white blouse. One by one, she slipped the small circles through their loops. Creamy skin, plump breasts and a slight, rounded belly came into view. The sizes of the woman he took to bed wasn't important to him. He’d taken thin women as well as full-figured or plus-sized women. No one held more than his cock’s attention and after sex, someone left and life went on. What mattered to him more than the size of her hips was how kinky and dirty the woman was. This one though? This squeaky-clean one? Fuck. She had his complete attention, and unless she hated sex, she wouldn’t be leaving his bed anytime soon.

She pulled the ends of the shirt free of her skirt and slipped it off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor at her feet.

Her tits hid behind white lace. The bra was beautiful, sexy. Pure. When she would have reached to unhook it, he said, “Leave it on.”

“O-okay.”

“Good girl. The skirt next.” He was going to have to adjust the baseball bat in his jeans or undo them and let it out.

Carrie tugged a button from the side of her skirt and unzipped the zipper he hadn’t known was there. The black material fell to the floor and it was all he could do not to gasp, groan and curse a blue streak. She wore white lace panties that matched her bra and hid nothing. Black stockings with white lace hugged her thighs and she wore the same black serviceable pumps from earlier. She was an evocative mix of innocence and sexy.

He lowered his foot to the floor and spread his legs. He crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”

Without hesitation she came to stand between his open thighs. “Do you usually wear lace like this?” He emphasized his words by fingering the edges of the bra cups. Her skin was softer than silk and completely blemish free. He'd take care of that. Couldn’t wait to take care of it, in fact. How would she feel, carrying his marks on her body? Would she hate seeing the evidence of what she’d done come morning light, or would she crave more? They’d be finding out soon enough.

“No.”

“So, you weren’t wearing these panties and this bra when we met earlier this afternoon?”

“N-no. After I quit, I went home and changed.”

“Naughty girl.”

“Do … Do you like that?”

His hands skimmed the fullness of her breasts and her nipples pebbled beneath the lace. “Do I like what?”

“Naughty girls.”

He leaned forward and placed a kiss over one of her nipples and felt her tremble at the light caress. “Love them.” Sitting back, he drew his fingers down her sides and danced them over her stomach. It trembled, too. “Naughty girls are sexy, but you?” He slid a hand down to cup her pussy through her panties. “Taking a girl like you and turning her into a naughty one is even sexier.” She moaned when he squeezed her mound. “You trim your hair here?” The normal cushion of hair was absent.

“Yes.”

“Why?” He kept rubbing and squeezing, loving the feel of the lace as it began to dampen.

“I read in a magazine that men like it.”

What else had she read? “Interesting. I like it trimmed and shaved.”

Dallon stood and gripped her ass in both hands. He pulled her flush against his body and ground his harder-than-steel cock into her belly. She fit him, her softness, lushness, welcoming, giving, but she’d be tighter than tight inside. The mere thought had him squeezing her cheeks and rubbing himself into her for the friction.

Damn.

He wondered about the pool tables as he scanned the room. He knew the layout by heart and had carried women upstairs before. This wasn't any woman. He wanted her to be, but she wasn’t. She was too special.

Would he be able to make it to his apartment over the bar without laying her out on the green felt? Would he be able to hold back and not climb on top of her until they were in his bed?

His gaze landed on the pool cues hanging on the wall. They’d be fun.

Shit, he needed to be inside her.

He turned her around and spoke into the crook of her shoulder, licking the sensitive skin. “You want to be naughty, well, naughty is willing and eager to open her thighs. Naughty doesn’t think twice before doing what feels good.” He kissed the tip of her nose. He was a contradiction. Tender, hard, gentle, rough. Only with her, though. “Over to the pool table.” The words were out of his mouth before he could call them back. He wouldn’t regret them.

He nudged her with a light swat on the ass. She moved, her ample ass and hips swaying. She couldn’t have known how seductive she was. It wasn’t practiced or rehearsed. It was her. He’d noticed it when she’d walked away from his truck earlier. But in only lace now? It was a more definitive, lusty kick in the gut.

Damn. She was the temptation of man.

Behind the bar, he grabbed her beer bottle, rinsed it in scalding water, then went to her and helped her up on the edge of the table. “Now we’re gonna find out how much you want this.”

“What are you planning to do?”

He pressed his hand between her legs and squeezed, making her moan. Her eyes fluttered and her teeth gripped her bottom lip. “I told you. Things others wouldn’t do.” Heat penetrated the lace and the tips of his fingers touched the edges of wetness. “You’re wet.”

“Is that bad?”

Is that bad? Dallon had to fight the urge to groan and laugh all at the same time. “No, baby, it’s not bad. It’s a very, very good thing. Now lie back.” When she tried to scoot onto the table, he stopped her. “No. Leave your ass on the edge like it is. Good girl.”

“Am I pretty enough?” she asked, guiles, staring up at the light above the table. The reflection from the stained glass fixture above lit up her body in a rainbow of color.

Her question stopped him dead. “Pretty enough? For what?”

“You.”

He had to think how to answer that. He thought she was beautiful, but didn’t know how to say it. That kind of thing didn’t matter to him as much as a willing woman with a hot cunt. “Yes. More than.” And that was the truth.

She sighed and relaxed, let her legs fall open. “Okay.”

“Let’s find out how wet you are.” Very. He pulled her panties to the side, stretched them, worked his fingers into the lace enough to rip it. The woman was fucking soaked. Her inner and outer lips glistened with her juices. “How many men?” His finger stroked her pussy from entrance to clit, in light, barely there strokes. She wiggled and pushed and lifted into his touch.

“Only a couple. In college.”

“None since?” He dipped a finger inside her to the first knuckle. She shook her head and he gave her more of the same finger. Her hiss was his reward. “How many years?”

“Three, at least.”

Holy shit. Three years since she’d had a man inside her? His cock was ready to explode at the knowledge. “Good. You’ll be so tight, but I won’t hurt you. And if it does hurt, you tell me and I’ll back off. Do you understand me, Carrie?”

“Yes, Dallon.”

“Good girl. Ready?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Give me one hand.” He placed her middle finger on her clit. She tried to jerk it back, but he held it against her. “Don’t move it.”

“Okay.”

He reached up and pulled one bra cup down under her tit, exposing the globe to his gaze and the cool air of the room. He wasn’t sure which made the tip of it harder. “Other hand now. Give me.”

He took her forefinger and her thumb and closed her nipple between them. She didn’t try to jerk it away and he smiled down at her. “Pinch it. Tight, Carrie. Yes, good girl.”

She looked naughty enough, almost, but not quite. She was lovely laid out on the pool table, hands fondling her body. He loved when a woman touched herself for him, because of him, and for however long he wanted.

“Do you like it? Touching yourself?”

“I … Yes, I do. It’s slippery and hot.”

“It is. Have you done it before?”

“Yes. But … but never in front of anyone. It was a sin in our house to do it at all.”

“I understand. It’s not a sin here, though.” He picked up the bottle, he pressed it to his lips, kissed the glass, and then lowered it. “It’s going inside you. Are you ready?”

“I-inside me? You can’t do that. It’s … it’s wrong.”

But her eyes and excited, whispery little voice said it was very right. “Wrong in this instance is irrelevant. Given your upbringing, being in my bar naked is wrong, yet here you are. You asked me, told me you wanted me to teach you naughty, well, this is how we begin. I told you before. All you have to do is say the word, Carrie. Say the word and I’ll stop. You can get up, get dressed, and walk out the door.”

He waited, the bottle poised at her entrance, eyes watching her face. Her fingers never lifted, not even a fraction of an inch. Her eyelids lowered and again those, teeth worried that bottom lip, but finally she looked at him. “Do it.”

And he did. Inch by inch, the glass, makeshift dildo penetrated her pussy. Her hips lifted in a natural reaction and she took it deeper until the body of the bottle began to stretch her. “Oohhh.”

He eased it out, then pushed it in again, this time a little faster. The next time a little harder. Over and over again until she was humping the neck as she would hump a cock, his cock. “Play with your clit. Rub it, stroke it. Yeah, like that. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I can’t … I want more.”

“I know. You can have more. You can have everything you want, but I need you to give me your come. Keep doing what you’re doing and come for me.”

The bottle fucking her was hotter than sin and her sex opened up to it like a blossoming flower. Her walls gripped it, sucked it in, and fought hard to keep it there when he pulled it out.

He slammed it in and her hips lifted to it, enough so he had to take each of her legs and fold them around his waist.

His dick screamed and his heart thundered in his chest. The sight of her was enough to steal his last breath. The way she fucked the beer bottle … Like a woman who hadn’t been deprived of pleasure and sexual expression all her life … She moved with him, with his thrusts.

“You are so goddamn gorgeous and ripe,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss the softness of her belly. The panties, the lace, the satin, the black of her stockings and her tiny heels digging into his back … It was all sexy as shit.

“Take it, Carrie. Take it and give me what I want.”

He ground the bottle against her, slid one of his fingers to play right alongside hers. Mewling followed by whimpering followed by tiny squeaking.

Her body stiffened and her stomach muscles began to quiver against his lips.

The small sounds kept coming, lowering in volume and frequency. She finally stilled and her entire body seemed to sigh when he pulled the bottle neck free. “Open.” Her drowsy eyes focused on him. Questions floated through the dark chocolate depths. He rubbed the soaked bottle against her lips. “Open,” he said again, his voice soft, coaxing.

What he meant dawned on her and when she complied with his request, he slid it against her tongue.

With a smile on his face, he watched her lick at her juices. He’d bet it was the first time she’d ever tasted herself. And those eyes never left his face. It was a connection and a strengthening of something he hadn't even known existed.

The glass was clean when he pulled it from her mouth. He leaned down, sliding his tongue inside, having decided it was his turn for a taste, even second hand. Heady, honeyed, new. “Proud of you,” he whispered against her lips. “Have you ever had an orgasm like that?”

“No. I don’t even think what I had before was one if that’s what they’re supposed to feel like.”

Dallon chuckled and nipped at her lips. “Like it? Want more?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good little angel.”

“Am I naughty now?”

The scent of her come when she exhaled was intoxicating. “Do you like how you taste?”

“Yes. Am I naughty now?”

Her question was so sincere, so serious that Dallon gave her an indulgent smile. Yeah, she was temptation incarnate. “You’re off to a good start.”

She slept like a rock. Dallon had helped her upstairs and out of her bra and panties before she fell asleep. The second her head hit the pillow, she’d been out like a light. He didn’t know if she gave herself orgasms, but from the way she talked, he didn’t think so. What they’d done on the pool table would leave her sore as well. That was a good thing. For him. And for her. He wasn’t sure she’d see it that way though.

He needed it. He needed to figure out how he would tell her they wouldn’t be having sex. Ever. That she would have to learn the rest of what she wanted to know from another man. It pissed him the hell off, but he didn’t have a choice. He liked her. He actually fucking liked her. And like could lead to feelings and feelings … were out the question. He didn’t want that kind of entanglement.

No way. No how.

His next thought was about how full of shit he was. All the way up to his neck full of shit. H—

“You have more tattoos than I thought you did.”

He hadn’t realized she was awake and turned his head on the pillow. “Morning, sunshine.” Why was he smiling? He needed to scowl, sound gruff and no so endearing. She had to know he was serious about her leaving. She looked rumpled and adorable, though.

Her skin had that just-awakened flush, her eyes still had that drowsy, heavy lidded look. “Yeah.”

“I’ve never known anyone with them.”

“No?”

“No. Defilement of the Lord’s temple.”

“Yeah, I remember that argument.”

“I like them.”

“A lot of women do.” After the words were out of his mouth, he realized he shouldn’t have replied quite that way. He didn’t know how to do morning-after niceties. His dick hurt like a son of a bitch. His balls were pissed off at him, and the best thing would for him to get her up, dressed and out the door.

She was so warm and soft, and he wanted to melt into her at the same time he wanted to kick her out of his bed. She was a threat to everything he knew and wanted and held dear before meeting her. His one-night stands and easy lays would come to a screeching halt if he didn’t get rid of her soon.

“You hungry?” Yeah, that’s it, feed her and tell her she’s gotta go. No need for him to be rude about it.

She purred and snuggled close. “Not yet.”

Fuuuuck.

Without thought, Dallon reached over and brushed her hair back from her face. Showing tenderness wasn’t going to help. He needed to be cold, distant. Most got the hint and were gone within minutes of waking up or gone before the sun rose. This one though … This one slept in his bed, pressed against his side. He wouldn’t have booted her if his life depended on it. “Sore?”

He wished he hadn’t asked because she moved, stretched, tested her muscles out. The sheet slipped and he found himself face to tit.

“A little, but a hot shower should help with that.”

He pointed across the room, but his eyes remained on her breast. “Bathroom is through that door there.” Damn. He couldn’t seem to look away, and when she moved closer to him, he latched on, sucking a nipple between his lips. She arched and he helped her by holding her with a hand to the middle of her back.

He rolled her nipple in his mouth, tasting and testing every inch, every ridge, every moan from her chest. He nibbled with the edges of his teeth, teased with the tip of his tongue until she was writhing. When he lifted his head, her eyes had grown hazy and he was helpless to keep from kissing her.

She met him tongue thrust for tongue thrust and did her best to crawl inside his skin. She didn’t realize until he pulled back that he’d positioned her body so he could torment her other nipple as he had the first.

“You like it,” he breathed against her, watching as the goose bumps floated over her flesh.

“Yes.” Her voice was throaty, kind of breathy, and he’d bet the bar she was soaked again.

“You want to learn more about being naughty?” And how is that going to help the situation?

“Uh-huh.” She licked her lips and watched him like a hawk as he made his way down her body. Her belly quivered again and her legs parted wide. Her hips humped the air. Impatient. Horny.

“Keep them spread. Let me taste this hot little cunt.”

Her groan echoed in his head as he dove in, burying his face inside her wet lips. She was sticky, hot. Her scent was strong, heady, real. And he fucking loved real. He didn’t go for the perfumed girls, the ones who tried to make every inch smell like flowers. He wanted his woman whenever and wherever without having to wait for her to pretty herself up from head to toe.

He opened her with his thumbs and blew cool breath against her heated sex. He tongue-fucked her until all he could taste, all he could smell was pussy. Her pussy. The realness of Carrie.

Her thighs jumped each time he grazed her clit and she let go a little high-pitched whimper that bounced off the brick walls in the room. She was close to letting go, but he wasn't ready for her to. He backed off and licked her nice and easy, calming her already-overheated body.

The slick flesh shivered under his touch. He wanted her to come, to cry out, to push her pussy into his face so hard he’d forget how to breathe without it.

Not yet, though.

He wanted to shave her, too. Would she like it? Would she like the heightened sensations of being completely bare to his touch? He raised his gaze to her face to find her, as always, watching him. She’d fisted her hands on the bed. Her nipples were hard little points. And her mouth … God, if he wasn’t so occupied with her pussy he’d have his cock between those lips and inside that sultry mouth.

He could sixty-nine her, but he wasn’t a big fan. He wasn’t a big fan of multi-tasking. He wanted to concentrate on giving or receiving, not having to try to enjoy both at the same time.

“Naughty, will come on my tongue,” he said, his breath fanning over her clit. “But not before I let her. Not before I tell her to.”

Her eyes widened and she smiled the most wicked smile an innocent woman shouldn’t know how to smile.

He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and she took the hint, lifting her hips and grabbing the back of his head. She ground herself into his nose, chin, and lips.

Holy hell.

She rode him, controlled him and her own pleasure. She smothered him and he’d never wanted anyone more in his life. He wasn’t even sure he was going to survive her, but damn …

He drank her wetness, feasted on her clit, made her writhe until she came undone and screamed. Her cunt pulsed against his tongue, then he pulled free of her hold dropped lower. He rimmed her tight, puckered hole and she stiffened in shock before unfurling around him.

She had the darkest taste of any woman. The darkest, sweetest, most-intoxicating taste and he didn’t know if he’d ever stop thinking of and wanting her.

He licked her, light and soft from stem to stern and all the way up her body. She looked content as a kitten and as he bent to kiss the sensitive underside of her ear, he smiled at the thought. A sex kitten. His sex kitten, learning from him, following his lead, eating out of his hand of naughty knowledge.

“Why don’t we hit that shower?” he suggested, crawling from her body and helping her up.

 

* * * * *

 

“Oh yeah, Carrie. Good girl.”

Dallon dropped his head back against the wall. The water had turned lukewarm, but he didn’t give a shit. The hot mouth sucking his cock with virgin enthusiasm drove everything from his mind.

He had a loose, easy grip on her wet, tangled hair and did his best to guide her. He was also enjoying her getting used to him. “You don’t have to be gentle, kitten.”

And she wasn’t. She took his balls, one at a time, pulled on them, then let them pop out of her mouth. Her teeth took sharp little bites of his cock, and her tongue … Damn. Her sexy tongue teased the hell out of the head, driving him up on his toes with the tip embedded in the little slit.

“Jesus, fuck … Where’d you learn to do this?”

He wondered what she’d do if he asked her to rim his ass. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her between his legs, down on her knees. She’d do it. If he asked her, she’d do it. She was exploring and didn’t know her own limits yet … “Damn, girl.”

She looked up and smiled at him. His shaft stretched her lips wide, but there was a smile in her eyes. “Get up, c’mon.”

His dick screamed at him, but he ignored the pain. He didn’t want to lose it his first time with her like this. It never mattered for shit before, but with her it mattered a whole hell of a lot. He wanted it in his bed.

Reluctant at first, she finally let him tug her up. He thrust his tongue in her mouth in a hard, smashing kiss. He felt the cold chill of the water and turned it off, stepping out of the shower stall with her in tow.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He dried his hair. “Nope. You were perfect.”

“You made me stop.” She bent forward and wrapped the towel he gave her around her hair like a turban. He never quite understood how to do that.

“Not because of anything you did wrong, kitten.”

In his bedroom, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt. She followed and it hit him that she didn’t have a change of clothes. She’d be wearing one his shirts. She didn’t have a toothbrush either or … “You didn’t bring anything with you when you came last night, did you?”

“No. I didn’t think you’d … I didn’t think I’d be staying.” She sat naked on the end of his bed, unfurled the towel and held it in her lap. Her hair was a riotous mess of curls. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She was beautiful before. She was a knockout now. Sex kitten, indeed.

“I thought you had straight hair.”

“No. I use a straightener, then pull it back. My mother always said curly hair would make men have untoward thoughts about me.”

What a fucking crock of shit. “It’s possible she was right.” Dallon waggled his eyebrows. “I mean, I have very untoward thoughts about you right now. But to be fair, I had those thoughts when I thought your hair was straight, so nah. It’s got nothing to do with the curls.”

He tossed her a shirt from the dresser. “Thanks. I’m a little embarrassed.”

“Why?”

She shrugged and put the shirt on. It was irritating to see her tits disappear behind the gray material. Her thighs pressed tight together, and the blush that stained her cheeks pissed him off. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I didn’t think you’d want me, much less, let me stay the night. I didn’t think to pack an overnight bag and …” She shrugged again.

“Do you want to go home?” His tone was harsh, much too harsh for what they’d shared less than thirty minutes ago. “Sorry,” he mumbled. She had him all fucked up. Why couldn’t she just be a good lay and not get to him? Why couldn’t this be a normal hook up? Because she’s not a normal hook up, asshole.

Her eyes snapped up to his face and she shook her head. “No.”

“Then don’t feel bad about not having anything to wear. Don’t feel bad about anything, least of all coming here and laying it out to me about what you wanted.” He knelt in front of her and slid his hands up her thighs. He couldn’t keep himself from touching her, from reaching for that piece of heaven she was hiding from him. “You’re strong and have a ton of courage. I didn’t want you here last night,” he admitted. “I wanted you to leave, but not because I didn’t want you. I wanted you too much and knew that if we started, we weren’t going to stop. You showed up, you offered yourself and here we are.”

“Do you have a lot of women spend the night?”

Honesty or another little white lie? There was no accusation or jealousy that he could detect in the question. More than anything, she seemed curious. He’d go with truth. “Sometimes, but it’s usually because they’re too drunk and we fall out after sex.”

“Do they bring overnight bags?”

She was so cute. So unsure of herself in some ways, and so full of bravado in others. “No, kitten, they don’t. They put on whatever they wore the night before and leave. Often before I wake up.”

“Do you ever see them again?”

Damn, nothing like straight and to the point. “No.”

“Okay.”

He saw her eyes dim at that one word. He couldn’t and didn’t want to give her hope that he’d be seeing her after she left. He also couldn’t and didn’t want to be the cause of her sadness or feelings of rejection. “Don’t. Don’t compare yourself to them. There’s a lot you don’t know, a lot you haven’t done. We’re not finished and you’re not leaving yet.”

That’s all it took for her to smile again. It was small, but it reached her eyes. “Oh. What are we going to do?”

Dallon chuckled. Did she want the list in alphabetical order? Ass-fucking. Bondage. Cock-sucking. Defilement. Eat … “We’re going to have breakfast. You need your strength.”

He took her hand and they stood together. The shirt fell only a couple of inches below her ass making that his favorite. Anytime he looked at it, he’d see her. Hot damn.

“I’ve never had a man make breakfast for me before.”

“I’m not making breakfast. That’s Vinter’s specialty.”

“What or who is Vinter?”

“A buddy of mine and one third owner here in the bar. He makes killer breakfast.”

“What do you cook?”

“I don’t. I heat things up in a microwave or a toaster. I make drinks.” He grinned. “I can make awesome coffee, too.”

“Awesome coffee? Is that code for something?”

Dallon laughed. “No. A few years ago, I worked part-time as a barista in a little coffee dive and learned how to make it.”

“You can make the lattes and cappuccinos and all?”

“I can. Want one?”

“I’ve never had one.”

“Why not?”

“I wasn’t allowed. My father said if water was good enough for the Lord, then water was good enough for the rest of us.”

He had to grind his teeth to keep from yelling. He understood what living a sheltered life was like. He’d been there, done that, but it pissed him off that she’d never tasted something as simple as a latte. Why did parents do that? Hers, his. What was the point? There was no shelter from evil, but from life itself. “I’m sorry.”

No wonder she was willing to lay it all out. No wonder she was open to stripping down and lying back on a pool table. They’d told her “No” all her life and she was finally in a position, in control enough, to say yes. She was hesitant and questioning, but she was taking her own life into her own hands. And it was hard to admit, but her coming to him for play in areas she knew little to nothing about was reckless. He should have been more insistent with her.

Looking at her last night, wanting her so much … She was going to get what she wanted, from him or someone else. She felt safe in trusting him this time. But what if next time she couldn’t trust the guy even if she thought she could?

That didn’t set well with him at all. She needed someone to guide her, to watch out for her as she took these chances, made these choices.

She was too naïve. She was strong, had her own mind, her own thoughts, but she was naïve.

At the same time, he didn’t know anyone he trusted, other than himself, that he could introduce her to. No one he’d feel comfortable seeing her with, at least. She’d make her own decisions. She’d figure out what she liked and wanted to experiment with. But at some point, she’d need someone. She’d need someone who knew the real world, because if he’d learned anything … When the good, religious girls fell, they fell hard.

And speaking of hard …

“You’re lost in thought. Is something wrong?”

“No. Let’s get you your first latte, okay?”

“Okay.”

She was eager, hungry for life. He found it appealing, refreshing. He knew too many who’d become jaded, cynical. Both men and women. Carrie, though, she was taking it all in for the first time. He’d be a fool to deny her vitality, her curiosity was rubbing off on him. Not to mention, she was hot as sin when he touched her. So responsive, her eyes unable to hide her feelings, thoughts.

He followed her downstairs where she settled on a stool at the bar. He did his damnedest to ignore the pool table and the empty beer bottle from the night before. He wanted to bend her over the side and watch his t-shirt slide up over her ass. He wanted to slam his dick so deep inside her that she clawed the felt off the table. Instead he said, “I’ll be right back. Need to get some stuff from the kitchen.”

“Sure.”

He pushed through the door and walked straight into the freezer. He wanted her so bad his skin was on fire. The freezing-cold temperature did little to lessen the hardness constricting the flow of blood, making his jeans tight.

There was nothing he needed from the kitchen. The milk, the syrups, the espresso, the whipped cream … everything was under the bar. He only had to walk away from her for a few minutes, walk away from the temptation she posed. When he had himself under some semblance of control, he went back to her.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’ve got this. Why don’t you talk to me? Tell me something about you.”

“Well, I’m not sure what you want to know. Umm … I’m adopted. I don’t know why my birth parents gave me up, but they did. I was a baby. My adoptive parents gave me everything I needed and I know they love me in their own way. I’m different, though, you know, and they’ve never wanted to see it.”

He knew. Boy, did he know. “Yeah.”

“I always had more questions than they or their church had answers for. They were my only family, though, and so I tried to do what would make them happy. I learned in the last ten years or so that what makes them happy, doesn’t do anything for me.”

“Where’d you fall off the path of righteousness?”

“I started wandering off it when I was in college and then continued after I graduated. I’m twenty-four years old and am living on my own for the first time without any supervision.”

“Did you have supervision in college?”

“Some, yes. A friend I grew up with and that went to our church went with me. We shared a room and she was always there unless she was in class or at church. She didn’t date at all and tried to keep me from doing it, too. We had a falling out right before graduation. It was stifling.” She lowered her head, hid her face for a moment, before looking up at him again. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you all that.”

“Me, neither, but I’m glad you did. So, don’t be sorry. We all need to tell our stories to somebody sometime.”

“I guess so.”

He grinned. “And now that you found me, I’ll look after you.” He wished he could take those words back. He had no idea why he’d said that. Theirs wasn’t a relationship. It wasn’t even a friendship. It was a fling.

He shook the feeling off and scooped espresso beans into the grinder. It was a new, very swanky burr grinder. He'd added it to his personal coffee collection a few months back. He didn’t make espresso drinks for the bar unless someone asked, but he loved them. Usually the stronger the better and he didn’t like straight coffee. Vinter gave him shit about it, too. Said he was a pansy ass for drinking them.

From the grinder, he filled the small basket with fresh grounds and tamped them until the surface was smooth and solid.

“I can smell it from here. I’ve always loved the scent of coffee.”

Dallon shook his head. Poor girl didn’t know what she’d been missing, but she was about to find out.

“I know you said you went to school in Tennessee, right? Did you go to college at a private or public univeristy? State or Christian college?”

“State. My parents didn’t want me to, were afraid of all the wicked influences. They wanted me to come here, but I received a full scholarship to the University of Tennessee. There were a lot of tense discussions and promises I had to make, but in the end, they agreed to let me go.”

“Did they know you had applied?”

“My test scores were pretty good and I started getting information from schools. Tennessee was one of them and no, they didn’t know I applied. That was the first time I’d ever lied to them.”

“I guess it didn’t hurt that your friend was going, too?”

“No. When they found out she got in as well and that her parents didn’t object to it, mine relented. Reluctantly.”

“How did they plan to keep you from going? You were eighteen and were in on a free ride.”

“Because I was only seventeen when I graduated. I was homeschooled and finished early. They didn’t want me going before I turned eighteen.”

“You said y’all shared a room, right? Did you live in the dorms?”

“Yes. My father pulled a few strings and was able to get us in the same room. At least the first couple semesters. After that, I had other roommates and kind of lived vicariously through them. My junior and senior year was when I started venturing out of my shell. My friend became more involved in off campus church activities and I had a little freedom. I was still able to put on the façade for my parents, but I was dating a little, working some, and spent a lot of time online.”

“And after graduation?”

“I have my master’s degree and in the summers between semesters, I went on a few mission trips to Africa, China, Central America. When I was home, I had a bookkeeping job in a small bridal shop.”

“You said this was the first time living on your own? Where did you live before?”

“I lived in the apartment above the garage at my parents’ place. It was my own, but not my own. Does that make sense?”

It did. She was still under their thumb, still beholden to their rules. “If you had a job, why did your father secure the one at the college?”

“The bridal shop partnered with wedding consultant company and they had their own accountant. I was let go.”

“That sucks. How will they feel when they find out you’ve quit the university here?”

“I’m sure they already know and I’m sure they’ve left a million messages on my voicemail. They’ve never understood my need to extricate myself from them, to explore life. I love them, but I don’t want their life. I want mine.”

Her hair was dry and still full of curls, and she’d folded her hands on top of the bar. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do first. Fuck her or hold her. She seemed so vulnerable, so lost, but at the same time she seemed so determined and feisty. He’d never met a woman he was proud of for anything. Well, not before her. He knew how hard it was to do what she was doing, to pretty much divorce herself from all she’d ever known and find herself.

He poured cold milk into a stainless steel pitcher and set it under the frothing wand. The noise from the steam made conversation impossible for a few minutes, which was fine. His dick wanted her and his thinking head wanted her gone after coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy she needed during this transition period in her life.

Yet, he’d told her he’d look after her.

And he’d already told her they weren’t finished.

The small thermometer hit the temperature he was looking for and he turned the steam knob back off. He put the shot glasses in place and flipped the switch for the espresso to start.

“What are you going to make me?”

“Hmm … Caramel or chocolate?”

She grinned and his stomach did a little flip. He wasn’t sure he liked that. “Caramel.”

“Then I’ll make you a caramel latte. It’s very simple. Steamed milk, espresso, a simple vanilla syrup, lots of caramel and whipped cream.”

“Oh wow.”

Oh wow was right. “I can see you having a bit of an addictive personality. You’re going to cling to things you like and want.”

“Like you?”

He’d been talking about coffee, but … He shouldn’t do or say anything to encourage that train of thought. “I suppose so.” Him and his big mouth.

“That makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”

“Why do you think so?”

“You hesitated before you answered. I’m no good at this, the small talk, the easy banter.”

“You’re fine and I’m not at all uncomfortable. Say what you want to say. This is all about you and what you want right now.”

He shook the can of whipped cream and swirled it over the top of the latte. Then, he added a swirl of caramel sauce. Placing the mug in front of her, he said, “Open.”

He aimed the nozzle of the can at her lips, and when she parted them, he filled her mouth with the sweet creaminess. She started to laugh and her eyes lit up. She closed her jaw and swallowed, grinning at him and opening up again for more.

Such simple pleasures. “You’ve lived a sheltered life, Carrie.”

She nodded after she swallowed the second helping. “Yes. Thank you for showing me a different one. I’d always dreamed of taking a chance like this, but was too scared.”

He didn’t know what to say so he leaned across the bar and planted a smacking kiss to her lips.

He’d lost his ever lovin’ mind. He wasn’t supposed to care about anything beyond the pleasure they could bring each other. But he found himself caring about her. “Do you regret it?” he asked, walking around the end of the bar to take a seat on the stool next to her. He swiveled them both until they were face to face.

“Regret what?” She took a sip of the latte and moaned deep in her throat as it went down. He knew it was all warm and silky and that she’d love it.

Dallon couldn’t keep his eyes off her legs and how high the shirt rose. He could walk up to her, spread her thighs, bend his knees … Damn, he’d had the same thought last night. His dick still thought it was a pretty good idea. “Last night. Coming here.”

“No. I don’t regret anything. I can’t. I wanted this. I wanted you. I knew I couldn’t keep my job, keep the life I pretended to live and still come to you. I can’t lie to them again, not like I did in college. I lost my virginity and they didn’t even know. They didn’t know I spent the night with boys when I told my friend I was studying with other friends. I even experimented with kissing girls and I … I liked it. I found out I loved looking at porn, too.” A blush filled her cheeks the second the word porn escaped her lips. “I can’t lie to them like that again, but I can’t keep lying to myself, either. They’ll be so hurt that I’m not who they think I am, that I’ve never been that person. Not on the inside. I’ll have to tell them sometime, though, won’t I?”

It was a good thing he wasn’t drinking anything right then because he’d have spewed it everywhere. She’d said pretty serious stuff he wanted to touch on. He wanted to tell her it was okay to want her own life, that he’d been there, too, in the exact position she found herself in now. He wanted to touch on all that, but his male brain only settled on two things. Porn and women. “Porn? You look at porn?”

“Yes.” She didn’t have innocence in her voice. In her eyes, yes. Not in her voice. It was strong, sure. “I love it. I mean, you did ask where I learned to do what I did in the shower. The women are so beautiful and the men are … Should I not like it? My parents and the church said porn is evil, but I can’t seem to help it.”

“No doesn’t work for everyone in the same way. Tell some no, and they’re going to do it anyway. There’s nothing wrong with watching porn. It surprised me is all. We’ll talk about the girl kissing later.” Porn. His downy innocent liked porn. He might have to pull out some of his vintage skin mags for her to flip through. “Now that you’ve quit your job, what are you going to do?”

If the sudden change in subject tripped her up, she didn’t show it. He needed it, though. If he planned to keep his hands to himself for a while longer, he needed it.

“I don’t know. I majored in accounting and small business finance. I guess I’ll start looking for a job with an accounting firm or go back to being a bookkeeper. I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet. Seems irresponsible, huh?”

“Quitting your job without having a back-up plan might be, but who am I to say? I come from the side of things that, if you’re unhappy doing your job, you’re going to be unhappy outside it, too. So, you might as well find something you enjoy doing. Or at least something that won’t make you hate getting up in the morning.”

She took a sip of her coffee, then another. Whipped cream collected on her upper lip and she toyed with the edges of it. Did she realize it would drive him crazy? Was she leaving it there to tempt him? Dallon didn’t know, but it took every ounce of his self-control to not lean forward and lick it off.

“You didn’t have sex with me.”

And they were back to sex. He might have to start counting beer bottles to keep his mind occupied.

He grinned at the casual way she threw the statement out there. “Not in the traditional way, no.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Oh yeah, he wanted to. Needed to. And would. Soon. After breakfast. She’d be lucky if they made it back upstairs to his bed. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d survive coffee before laying her out on the bar and climbing on top of her. “I do. I wanted to play with you some first. See how much you could take. Find out where some of your limits are. You have a body made for sex, for lust, for a little kinkiness.”

“Why did you use the bottle?”

“Why did you like it so much?”

She smiled. “Touché. I had never thought about it before. I didn’t know people, you know, real people did stuff like that.”

“You didn’t seem all that shocked and you sure weren’t turned off by it.”

“It was … You’re right. I liked it. A lot. I like having something inside me. I like sex and hadn’t thought of using things like that. I’ve never used sex toys either, even though I’ve seen lots of pictures of them and people using them in videos.”

“There are other things we can try later if you want. Believe me, you won’t look at most household items quite the same way. Of course, I’m not allowing anything else inside your hot pussy until I’ve been in it.”

“And the pool table?”

“Liked that too, huh?”

“Yeah. It was kind of shocking, being under that big light in the middle of a public place.”

“No one could see, no one was there.”

“But there were people playing on the table earlier in the night? And they’ll play there tonight, too, right?”

Dallon knew where she was going with that line of thought and question. The idea that someone would touch the place she’d been? Play in the same place she’d experienced incredible pleasure? That turned her on. Just as it did him. “Yeah.”

“Is it wrong?” She kept asking about wrong. Seemed he’d have to remind her several more times that it wasn’t wrong. That nothing they did was wrong.

“No. It’s somewhere between voyeurism and exhibitionism. Some people are turned-on by having sex or playing in public places. They like the possibility that they could be caught. And even though there was no one here last night when we were playing on the pool table, you like knowing there will be people there at some point. In fact, you want them to be there. You want that dirty little secret running through your mind.”

“Yes,” she admitted with a whisper. “Does it turn you on?”

“I’d take you with the bar full of people if you wanted. That the answer you want?”

Her innocence showed itself again when she ducked her head, blushed, and took another sip of her latte. When whipped cream collected on her upper lip for a second time, he didn't resist the invitation. He reached out and swiped it away with his finger, then presented it to her. She didn’t hesitate to slide her tongue on the underside, curl it under the first knuckle and pulled it in.

Carrie was a contradiction if he’d ever met one. Damn. One minute he thought her shy and unknowing, but in the next she was a fucking, teasing little seductress.

She sucked on his finger with as much throaty enthusiasm as she’d sucked his dick in the shower. Every flick of her tongue on the pad of his finger … Well, he could swear he felt it all along the shaft of his cock.

He pulled free. It was time. “Get the shirt off.”

“N-now?”

“Now.” He’d gotten his pants unfastened, his cock out, and started stroking before it registered on her face. The shirt was on the floor in an instant. “Spread ’em.”

She did. Without a second of hesitation this time, she spread her legs to the sides of the barstool. He didn’t have to touch her to feel the humid heat of her pussy. “Lean back against the edge of the bar.”

He brushed the length of her sex with the head of his cock, coating it in the juices that soaked her.

He paused. His eyes pierced hers, glanced down her body, watched her nipples harden under his stare. Hell, she was beautiful, responsive, and as much as he hated the damn things, he needed to protect her.

Beside her, he reached across the expanse of the bar and felt for the small tin can he kept beside the tap. It was full of condom packets. It was something he thought would be a good idea. He didn’t care if guys picked up guys or girls or both. He didn’t care if they had sex in the back. He wanted to protect them so no one in trouble in the end.

He ripped the foil with his teeth, then slid the thin sheath on. “Ready, kitten?”

She leaned back again, and this time stretched out her arms and gripped the edge of the wood. She was a feast, a sight to behold. He bent slightly. “As soon as I’m in, wrap your legs around me.”

He punched his hips forward and thrust inside her. Sure enough, as he’d told her, she draped her legs around his hips. Her head dropped back, his lips latched onto her right nipple and he fucked her … fucked her hard.

Should he have shown mercy? Probably. Should he have gone slow, taken some time? No doubt.

Could he? Nope. Not as open and unashamed and wet as she was.

Bending his knees farther, he pulled her sex closer with an arm at her back. It wasn’t long, and he was holding her hips, drilling her, filling her. Every gasp he relished, every moan and groan and whimper he cherished. Her tits bounced with the onslaught.

She had a body made for fucking, all soft and curvy and plush. Her cunt was tight, deep and so hot it singed his nerves. “Touch your clit, rub it. Make yourself come for me.”

He nipped at her chin, her shoulder, her throat. The backs of her fingers brushed his pubic hair, the tips against the shaft of his cock when he pulled out. She played with that little button for him. And the more she played, the harder he drove into her until he claimed her mouth in a hard, punishing kiss.

She made him lose control, made him want to keep her naked and wet and horny for as long as he could. She made him want to protect her, help her through the transitions coming in her life. He didn’t like any of it. Not one bit.

But he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to keep using her body and letting her use his.

He wanted endless days and nights … God-fucking-dammit.

His balls pulled tight and his come exploded into the condom. He couldn’t stop his hips from pushing forward, and he couldn’t help the pleasure at hearing his name on her lips as she bucked through her orgasm.

It was the only thing she said from the moment he slid inside her and it chilled him to the bone. She was the hottest piece he’d ever had and he’d be damned if he let anyone else have her.

 

* * * * *

 

“You’re pretty good with the dishes. Want a job?” In Dallon’s head, it was a joke, but when the words actually came out of his mouth. he realized he was more than serious. About her working there, that is. He wouldn’t hire her as a dishwasher though.

“I don’t know anything about work like this.”

“You know about numbers and books and I’d be hiring you to handle the accounts. I can teach you anything you need to know about working the floor. In addition, of course, to your lessons in being dirty and playing naughty.”

She turned her head and stared at him until he started to squirm. “You’d do that for me? Give me a job?”

Damage done. “Yes.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t stress. Give it some thought, that’s all. The offer is open, no matter what.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Welcome. You about done with those?” He nodded in the direction of the sink and the dishes she’d already washed. He’d had enough of looking at her naked behind.

With arousal still humming through her after sex and her eyes still glazed, she’d agreed to do the coffee dishes naked.

He was still wondering what in the hell he’d been thinking, offering to hire her at the bar.

“When do you want me to leave?”

Leave? “Leave?”

“Yes. I don’t want to hang around and be in the way. Unless you wanted me to start working tonight.”

Dallon struggled to connect the dots. They’d fucked. Had coffee. Talked. Where had she come up with the idea that he wanted or needed her to leave?

Her words forced him to touch her. He gripped her hair and turned her head until he could see her pretty face. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I never said you had to leave or that I wanted you to. If you want to go, I won’t stop you.” Of course, that was a big-ass lie. He’d tie her to the bed if he had to, but her leaving wasn’t an option.

He punctuated his words with a smacking kiss to her mouth.

“Shouldn’t I go home and get a change of clothes at least?”

“If you want. I don’t mind you walking around naked.”

She laughed and the sound wrapped its way around his chest, squeezing tight. How many times had he made her laugh in the last however many hours? How often in her life had she laughed with such openness, such freedom and without shame?

“I don’t think your customers would like it.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? They’d way more than like it, kitten.”

“Would you?” Her voice was every bit seductive and sweet, unpretentious. Her soapy hands slid over his chest, and damn if he wasn’t going to be fucking her again. For someone who rarely had sex, and not for while, she was an eager participant in his kinks. She had desires he was looking forward to exploring with her.

“I wouldn’t mind them looking, but I would very much mind them touching. I don’t play well with others and I don’t like them playing with my toys.”

“Am I a toy?”

He smirked, tried to keep his look light, “You’re whatever I want you to be.”. She’d dipped her hands back in the warm water and was now gripping his cock through his jeans. She squeezed the shaft, dropped lower to squeeze his balls and, God …

“What do you want me to be?”

His. His toy, his lover, his girlfriend, his slut, his kitten. He didn’t know if he’d give up his bed-hopping ways, but he knew for damn sure he didn’t want her doing it. And the only way to ensure that for the time being, was to keep her high on orgasms and with him.

Instead of answering, he spun her around, then bent her forward until her nipples touched the soap suds. “Don’t move.” He added a light smack to her ass for good measure.

He left the kitchen through the swinging door to grab another condom. He was going to have to replenish the supply at this rate. His jeans were undone and the condom on when he returned and stepped up behind her at the sink.

She wiggled her butt against his groin. “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”

“I liked the little spank.”

“You did, huh?” He gave her another two, one to each cheek. “Spread your legs,” he urged, impatient, grouchy, hungry. As soon as she complied, he thrust his hips forward until he’d seated himself inside her. Yes.

“Oomph.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.”

“Not a chance.”

He thrust hard, fast, deep. Her back arched, taking as much of him as he’d give, following him when he’d slide out. Gripping her hips, he advanced and retreated. He filled her, and left her empty, hungry for more.

“How are those pretty nipples doing?”

She giggled with labored breath and his balls tightened. “They’re wet and making designs in the water.”

He slowed, teasing her entrance with the crown of his cock, then leaned over, placing tiny kisses down her spine.

“Oh … Dallon, please …”

“Please?”

She wiggled against him again. “Please f-fuck me.”

She stammered and he thought the word “fuck” coming from her was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. “Say it again. Say ‘fuck’, Carrie.”

“F-fuck," she said, soft, tentative.

“More. Don’t hesitate. Say it.”

“Fuck.”

“Good girl. Again.”

“Fuck.”

He gripped her hair in his hand, still held her hip in the other and descended back into her cunt. “Again, kitten. I love hearing you say it.”

He drove into her like a bat out of hell, forcing the dirty word from between her lips. “Fuck.” She screamed it this time and he grinned behind her.

“So dirty coming from such a sweet, innocent kitten girl.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

God, he was gonna come. Right then. Right goddamn then. He wanted so much to come without a condom. He wanted to feel her tight tunnel bareback, to feel those walls close in around him without barriers.

His dick throbbed and jerked inside her, his balls releasing their grip on his sanity. Leaning his head between her shoulder blades, he took in the scent of her skin with traces of his soap, his cologne, and her own unique smell, and waited for his heart to stop racing.

“Can we do that some more?”

He licked her. “Yeah. We can do that some more.” He let go of her hair, smoothed it with his palm, and eased out of her.

“How far is your apartment?” he asked after discarding the condom and helping her to stand up straight again. He kissed her soft, delicious lips and grabbed a towel to dry her nipples. They hardened, lengthened, and she moaned, swayed toward him. “No, no. Not yet. How far?”

“I live in an apartment right down from the university. I couldn’t believe how turned around I got yesterday.”

“It happens. C’mon. I’ll go with you. We’re not done today.” Or this week or this month, maybe not even this year. He didn’t put voice to his thoughts, but he would when the time was right.

Her smile brightened what was already a beautiful day. “Okay.”

 

* * * * *

 

Dallon pulled into the apartment complex. The drive to her place didn’t take long, but his hand never left her thigh. It sometimes traveled high until his fingers pressed her skirt between her legs. He couldn’t get enough of touching her, couldn’t keep his hands off her. For hours, all he’d done was touch her. She’d soaked it up, too.

The way her eyes lit up, the way she moved into his body told him all he needed to know. She hungered for human contact, for intimacy.

“I like that I can be whoever I want with you. That I feel free to do whatever I want, whatever feels good. Even saying that word.” She spoke her admission with soft caution. “I was never allowed to curse. When I got to college and heard it all the time … The first time I said it myself, I laughed. I couldn't believe I was cursing. It’s so dirty to say or to even think out here in the normal world. I mean back at the bar when we were …”

He loved how she rambled, how she was so curious. She didn’t hesitate with him when she talked. Seemed she’d been looking for a safe place, same as he had not too many years ago. He was glad she found that safety in him. “What word?”

She laughed and he looked over at her with his most serious expression. “You’re teasing me. You know what word.”

“Nope. I don’t think so. You’re going to have to say it.”

“I can’t say it now.” Carrie buried her face in her hands, but not before he saw the bright red of her cheeks and neck.

He shrugged and squeezed her leg. “Then I have no idea what word you’re talking about.”

He pulled into a parking space in front of her building. He hadn't even put the car in park before the word flew from between her lips. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

His tone was teasing still, but that wasn’t why she’d said it. She faced forward, and he followed her gaze. It was trained on two people on the upstairs landing.

Her parents.

Her father, as Dallon’s, wore a suit, as if wearing anything else would offend their God. He rocked back on his heels and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Dallon had seen that posture many times. Her mother, in a dress similar to those his mother had worn when she was alive, stood against at the railing, her hands clasped together, her purse hanging from her forearm. Both looked down at Carrie. One with disappointment and disapproval. One with sadness. And Dallon’s hand was still on her thigh.

The heat that moments ago had flooded her cheeks vanished and she turned pale. Gone was the woman he’d been with for twelve to eighteen hours. In her place was a powerless young girl.

It hurt to see her this way because he knew what was coming.

The first time his father had shown up at the bar, he’d worn the same expression as Carrie’s. Looking at her, Dallon felt drawn back in to those desperate times. He’d begged his father to understand. Dallon wasn’t like him, didn’t believe like him.

“Kitten?”

She turned her head toward him. Beneath that now-fragile exterior was a woman he knew to be strong, beautiful, so erotic and sinful it melted every part of him. “I wish I could be like you,” she said in a voice so timid it broke his heart. “I wish I didn’t dislike the person I am with them and love the person I am with you.”

He could well understand that. Disappointing others was always a high price to pay for one’s own happiness. “Come on. Let’s go and get this over with.”

“You don’t have to stay. You can leave. They’ll bring me to get my car later.” She ducked her head and took a couple of deep breaths before she looked at him again. Regret shimmered in her eyes. “It had to come to an end sometime.”

The regret he spied wasn’t at having been with him. “Leave? End? Is that what you want?”

She shook her head and smiled, small but genuine. “This isn’t your fight.”

But he wouldn’t let her stand alone. “It’s not, but I know what it’s like trying to break free. I’ve done it and I’ve got all the scars to prove it.”

“I don’t know how to …” She shook her head, unsure what to say.

“You have to trust yourself, Carrie. You have to believe in yourself, in who you want to be, in who you already are. You have the right to live your life the way you want. They can’t dictate your steps anymore. And between last night and today, I hope you’ve learned that you can stand on your own. You can make the choices that will make you happy and that you’re not all by yourself. If nothing else, you have a friend. Me.” He hadn’t planned on getting involved with her, especially since drama wasn’t his thing. He had wanted a good time, a hot time between the sheets, and he’d had it, intended to have more of it. But she was special.

Fuck.

And in that instant, his bachelorhood ran like hell.

His hand lifted from her thigh to cup her cheek. He leaned forward and kissed her in plain view of her parents. The tiniest flicker of heat, of need, of strength took root when she looked in his eyes and she smiled.

“Good girl. Now let’s go. I have plans for you later.” He got out of the car and met her halfway around the vehicle. His fingers locked with hers and they walked up the stairs together.

On the landing, she greeted them. “Mom. Dad.”

Her father nodded and her mother stared at the floor. “Carrie Anne.”

Carrie unlocked the door and ushered them inside. Dallon stood with her, lending his strength and comfort.

She squeezed his hand tightly, and cleared her throat. “I’d like you to meet Dallon.”

Her father didn’t even look at Dallon. “I am not interested in meeting him. This is a private matter and it would be best if he left.”

“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll stay unless she tells me to go.”

The man turned to him then. His face could’ve been cut from stone for all the emotion he showed. Dallon wasn’t intimidated. He’d confronted that same distasteful look before.

“This does not concern you, young man.”

“But she does.”

A quick intake of breath came from Carrie’s mother, but she still didn’t speak. Dallon wasn’t surprised. His mother never had in situations like this, either. They presented a united front, but all the talking and decision making had come from Dallon’s father. He didn’t imagine things were much different in Carrie’s small family.

Women like that had always confused him. He liked submissive women as much as the next guy, but those who didn’t stand up or think for themselves? Those who wouldn’t speak their minds or offer an opinion, at the very least? There was no fun or life in that. There was consent and then there was …

He liked fire, sparks flying. He liked open discussion, debate. He liked laughter, conversation, depth.

He liked Carrie.

She looked at him. Her eyes started out dark, sad, but the longer she stared at him, the brighter, clearer they became. “What am I doing?” she whispered. Dallon knew she wasn’t actually talking to him, but rather to herself as something dawned slowly in her gaze. She squeezed Dallon’s hand again, and nodded as if she’d made a decision.

She faced her father. His eyes were full of concern regarding his only daughter, but angry as well. “He stays,” Carrie said. “I assume you’re here because I quit my job.”

“We are. They were very disturbed when you gave no reason other than you wanted find yourself. We don’t find ourselves, young lady. We are who we are in the Lord.”

The way he said “find yourself” made it sound worse than the curse word Carrie had said in the car.

Dallon imagined they’d never understand her need to do that. To find herself, learn about herself, become her own person and not the person they had planned for her.

“I’m sorry to have worried you. I did intend to call you and tell you, but I …”

“But you took up with him instead. Shame on you, Carrie. We raised you better than that. I saw his hands on you in the car. I saw him kiss you. I know about him. I know who he is and what a disappointment he is to his own father. He doesn’t love you. Surely you see that. He’s using you for his own lustful purposes and when he’s done, he’ll toss you aside. Don’t you have any respect for yourself?”

Damn. That was low. Dallon wasn’t sure if the man was telling the truth or not about knowing who exactly Dallon was. Then again, it didn’t matter. He was right. In his father’s eyes, Dallon was the definition of disappointment.

Carrie nodded. “I know all that. And yes, I have respect for myself, but I won’t if I don’t live my own life and make my own decisions.”

Odd, but it stung a little to hear her agree. Dallon might not love her now, but it didn’t mean he never would. He hadn’t promised anything, but she also hadn’t asked for anything.

“I’ll deal with it. I have to learn somehow. I have to live my own life. Don’t you understand that?”

“You have a life. You have a path laid out before you, sweetheart. All you have to do is walk it. We raised you in faith and with love. You were an orphan and we took you in, gave you a home, a family.”

As Carrie's mother spoke, Dallon saw the hope in her eyes, hope that she could get through to the child they’d chosen to adopt. He knew Carrie hated disappointing them, hated that she couldn’t do what they wanted, that she’d die inside if she did. He was pretty sure he knew her better than she knew herself. They could be twins with what she was going through mirroring his own breaking-free stage.

“No. I have your life, your path laid out before me. I don’t want it. I never have. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. You didn’t want to hear me say it.”

“You will find a good husband and have a purpose. You will find contentment in that. It’s not as bad as you think it will be.”

“Whether I find a good husband or not is for me to decide, as is having a purpose. It’s my life. Please try to understand. My. Life. Let me live it the way I choose. I don’t want to hurt you or sound ungrateful, but I don’t fit in your box.”

“You don’t know what you want.”

“How do you know, dad? You’ve never given me a chance to find out.”

“We won’t support you any longer. You will be completely on your own. Do you understand? I will not support a … a heathen.”

Her father’s anger was now morphing into disappointment and disapproval. Anger was easier to deal with than what she was staring in the face at the moment. Her mother stepped forward and touched her face, curled Carrie’s hair behind her ear and smiled a very sad smile. “We love you. You’re our daughter. Isn’t there anything we can say to change your mind?”

Carrie didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“We …” The woman shook her head and took an unsteady breath.

“I know, Mom.” She let go of Dallon’s hand long enough to share an embrace.

“Be very sure about this, Carrie Anne. Once we walk out that door, you’re on your own. You’ll be responsible for your bills, your clothes, everything.”

She eased away from her mother and Dallon was there, his hand on her waist, holding her steady. “I’m sure. I can take care of myself.” Her voice was strong, determined. She was likely scared shitless too, but she wasn’t going to show fear to them.

“Very well. We will take our leave. You may keep your car and the furnishings here.”

“Thank you.” She sagged into Dallon’s chest. He wished he could take away the censure in their words, in their eyes. Carrie wanted their support, but she wouldn’t get it. They weren’t disowning her though, and he figured that was something.

She stepped toward them, toward her father, but he held up a hand to keep her back. Her mother walked outside and as her father began to follow, he looked at Carrie. “Your mother was right. We do love you. You are welcome to come home anytime, at least to visit.”

He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he closed the door behind him. Carrie didn’t move. She simply stood rooted to the floor.

Dallon slid his hands up her back and massaged her shoulders, her neck. There were knots now where none had been when they’d left the bar. She stiffened, but soon relaxed, giving in. He lifted her hair and pressed a kiss to her hairline at the base of her skull, then pulled her in and held her tight.

She didn’t cry. He thought for a few minutes she might, but she didn’t. She was in shock, trying to process it all.

“You okay?” he asked after a few minutes.

She nodded. She was calm. “Yes. I am.” Her voice was stiff, as emotionless as her father’s eyes had been.

“I’m so sorry. You held your ground, and for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you. I don’t think anyone has ever said they were proud of me for being defiant.” Silence reigned as he held her in his arms, offering what comfort he could. “Dallon?”

He kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, kitten?”

“I'm going to need that job you offered me earlier.”

And then her tears fell.

“Who’s the hottie in the kitchen?”

Dallon tried to hide his smile at the word “hottie”. Carrie didn’t see herself that way and would likely be very surprised to know that anyone did other than him. He looked up at his friends and business partners, Vinter and Jaz. “Mine.”

Jaz nodded and rubbed his chin. “Well, does Mine have another name or are we supposed to call her that?”

“Asshole.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever known a woman with the name of Asshole, but if you say so …”

Dallon flipped Jaz off. “Carrie.”

“Where’d yoy meet? You gonna introduce us?”

“You gonna share?”

“At the store. Later. And not a chance in hell.”

Once upon a time, they'd shared their lovers, but since Vinter met his girlfriend, Elise, there’d been no play like that. Now that Dallon had met Carrie, he didn’t envision any play like that again, either.

“Have you asked? I mean, I know Vin here is off the market and all, but I’m still free as a bird.”

“I haven’t asked and I don’t intend to.”

Jaz grinned. “Stingy mother …”

Dallon grinned back. “Damn right.”

“She doesn’t look like the typical bar employee or customer.”

“Neither did Elise when she walked in. Isn’t that why she stood out to you?”

Vinter nodded and drained his beer. “Yep.” Dallon couldn’t take his eyes off the neck when Vinter set it down on the bar. He wanted to take Carrie that way again, wanted to see the glass inside her pussy. He wanted to tease her with it, fuck her with it. He wanted to be in her ass next time, too. There were all sorts of fun objects he intended to use, showing her how much fun naughty could be. Hell, showing her how naughty he could be.

“She had a job working for my father starting next week.”

“Holy shit, man. Wait. Had?”

“Yeah. She asked me for directions to the university yesterday and next thing I knew, she was walking into the bar, telling me she’d quit.”

“I know there’s more to it than that, but I won’t ask. Tell me one thing … Is she as good as she looks?”

“Fuck man. She’s better.”

“Damn lucky son of a …”

Right then, their topic of conversation walked out of the kitchen. She carried a tray filled end to end with highball glasses.

She wore a tight pair of jeans without panties. A white t-shirt that he’d ripped down the front, creating a deep V in the neck. She wore another white lace bra, and a pair of sneakers. He knew that being on her feet for hours when she wasn’t used to it would be hell, so he didn’t suggest heels.

He’d make that request soon enough.

The jeans hugged her ass like a glove and defined her hips. The shirt was a tease every time she bent forward, flashing a hint of cleavage. His favorite part of the night? When the air was on. It hardened her nipples beneath the fabric. Her bra did nothing more than hold her incredible tits up.

She’d been self-conscious at first, but when he pointed out the appreciative looks from men in the bar, she grinned.

She stopped next to him and he took the tray from her. “Thanks, kitten.”

“Hi there. I’m Jaz. Dal here has no manners.”

Dallon shook his head. “He’s the third partner in the bar,” he answered when she looked at him with questions in her eyes. “And nosy.”

She took Jaz’s outstretched hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is most definitely all mine, sugar.”

Carrie blushed. She was going to have to get used to people staring at her, giving her compliments. Her shyness coupled with her desire to toy and tease … It was fucking incredible. She was fucking incredible. Vinter was right. She wasn’t the typical bar employee or customer. She was fresh, sweet and all his. The men could look their fill, he even welcomed it, but they couldn’t touch. He hoped she would be okay with that.

She looked up at him. “I finished all the other dishes and cleaned the counters. Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Oh hell yeah there was. He needed her to strip down and suck him off.

She’d turned customers on when they’d seen her. Jaz had licked his lips every time she was near. And though she’d smiled and laughed at the flirting, Dallon knew she only wanted him.

Damn, he was harder than a bat again, certain he could knock one out of the park, too. “Not right now, kitten. Soon as these two leave, I’ll lock up.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is, huh? We have to leave so you can …” Jaz waggled his eyebrows at Dallon. And again, Dallon flipped him off.

“Yeah. That’s how it is.”

“That’s cool. I’m outta here.” He winked at Carrie and headed for the door. Vinter left with a wave to them both and Dallon locked the door behind his friends.

“He’s a flirt, isn’t he? Jaz, I mean.” She busied herself with the hem of her t-shirt.

“He is. A big one.”

“Vinter was kinda quiet.”

Dallon nodded and started flipping the lights off as he had last night. The familiar heat began to flare hotter than it had all night at the memory. “Vin is the quiet, observant one. He reads people real well but isn’t the biggest people person. Then again, most people see all the tats and piercings and steer well clear of him.”

“Does he want it that way?”

“He finds it rather amusing.”

They walked circles around the room, moving closer and closer to each other until they met in the middle. “Yours aren’t that plentiful or bright.”

“No, but you like them anyway.”

She smiled. “Yes, I do.”

“Good.”

“What do they mean?” She began by tracing the barbed wire that wrapped around his upper arm and down to the middle of his forearm.

“That one is a reminder that I don’t want to be fenced in again. I don’t want to be in a cage and held powerless over my own life.”

“I know that feeling.”

“Yes, you do. You were brave today. It takes a lot of courage to do what you did, to stand up and say no.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed on him to turn around. When he did, she pushed his shirt up. With soft finger, she traced the edges of the guitar between his shoulder blades. “What about this one? Why does one side of it have a halo and an angel’s wing and the other side have a devil horn and spiked tail?”

He loved her fingers on his skin. They were so gentle, like feathers. His dick hardened even more at her tender investigation. He’d never admit to the goose bumps covering his body having anything to do with what she was doing to him. “Jaz designed it for me when we formed the band. He thought the irony of heavenly and hellacious would be fun.”

“It’s beautiful. The detail of the wings, each individual feather …”

“Yeah. He said it was my price for freedom from the tyranny of the church.”

“I can see that. Your thirty pieces of silver, so to speak.”

“Yep. The devil horn and tail were my descent or ascent into finding who I was. Sinner. Hell raiser. I’m different than what my father planned for me. But I’m also a good man, a good friend, and a business owner.”

“You really did go through it, too, didn’t you? Like me?”

Dallon turned around and took her face between his palms. “Yes.”

“Thank you for staying with me this afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I’m glad I could be there for you.” He kissed her, full and languid on the lips, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth. She let him in and the kiss turned hard, possessive, dark and hungry. Her tongue curled around his and she sucked, bit down. If she could have crawled into his body, he had no doubt she would have.

She tugged on his t-shirt and he pulled away from her mouth long enough to get it over his head and on the floor. Nail scratches followed as she dug in and held on. He didn’t mind the bite of pain, welcomed it actually. It was kind of like the tattoo needle, it reminded him of life.

“I need this, you,” she breathed against his mouth. “Is that okay to say?”

“Yes, kitten, it’s more than okay. I need it, too.” And he wasn’t even sure need covered it. There was something more than need at play here, something more than simple want and desire.

“Good. I’m still not sure, what is and isn’t okay.”

“Anything goes, Carrie. Except …” He stepped back and let his gaze rake with laziness, up and down her body.

“Except what?”

The worried tone of her voice made him smile when she should know she had nothing at all to worry about. “Except you have way too many clothes on.”

She grinned, relief flooding her eyes. Before he could blink, she had the modified and ripped t-shirt over her head. He decided to watch. Some men might prefer a sexy dance routine, a slow, seductive striptease, but not him. He wanted the clothes off in the quickest way possible. If he wanted the other, he could go to a club.

She toed off her sneakers and worked the jeans down her hips and legs. She wasn’t shy about undressing in front of him. He liked that. She wasn’t bothered about by her nakedness. In fact, he’d bet the bar she loved it. She had the curves he craved to have in his hands and under his body.

The bra unclasped and dropped to the floor, she stood in nothing but a pair of socks. When they’d come back from her apartment, they’d brought an overnight bag with a few-days’ worth of clothes and toiletries. He still wasn’t sure that was going to be enough.

“We need to shave you tomorrow. You’ll be so sensitive to every touch, to every breeze. You’ll love it.”

“Okay.”

“You’re so willing, kitten.” He backed her toward the pool table with his hands on her waist, with his lips at the hollow of her throat, with his cock straining in his jeans …

“Should I not be?”

“Oh no, I like it. Always be real. Always be open and genuine.”

“I want to experience everything, Dallon.”

“I know you do. And I want to give you everything. I want to show you what it’s like to be so lost to the pleasure and ecstasy of sex that you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it.”

When they reached the cool, smooth edge of the table, she lifted herself, shifting until her ass rested against the green felt. What a sight.

He walked around the table, felt her eyes on him. He turned to see them widen when he pulled a pool cue from the rack on the wall. “Are you gonna …?”

“I might. Lie back, knees bent, legs spread.” From where he stood, he could straighten his arm with the cue in it and touch her. That’s what he did too when she was in the right position.

She offered herself up to him, a willing submissive for anything he wanted to do. He couldn’t get over how incredible, how sexy it was. He’d never known anyone quite like her.

He touched the end of the stick to one of her nipples, teasing the end until it pebbled. A light dusting of blue chalk left a trail on her skin as he drew the cue down her side and leg.

“Like it?” Her eyes never left him, never left the movement of his arm. She watched everything he did to her. She licked her lips and fisted her hands.

“Yes.”

He walked around her body, treating the opposite side with the same light teasing strokes. The small cube of chalk sat on the side of the table and he rubbed it against the end of the cue. The blue marks were pretty and said “mine”. It was something he hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same.

When he stood between her legs, the wetness glistened on her inner lips. He drew chalk swirls on her inner thighs, then flipped the cue around in his hand and slipped the condom he’d swiped from the can on the bar over it. He pressed the wider end against her clit and she bucked up.

“Something wrong, kitten?”

“Nothing. Do it again. Please.”

He did, sliding the smooth wood through her soaking wet sex, wedging it against her clit and circling it. She met him with a lift of her hips until she was riding the edge of it. “That’s it, Carrie. You can let go.”

“Yes. God, Dallon …”

“You wanted to be naughty, kitten.” He put more pressure on the stick and her lower body lifted and lowered in a constant up and down thrust. Her ass squeezed, and her breath hitched the closer she got to the orgasm she was reaching for.

“Please …”

“Take it, Carrie. It’s right there for you. It’s all yours, kitten.”

And the second she touched her nipples, her fingers pinching the hard tips, a cry tore from her throat. Her legs trembled, and he slid the of the cue from her clit to her cunt, sliding it inside as she rode the waves.

She was gasping for breath by the time she was flat on the table.

She’d closed her eyes by the time his jeans were undone and at his ankles.

Her come was leaking by the time he pulled the makeshift dildo from her pussy and crawled on top of her.

Her lips were open to his kiss by the time he buried his cock inside her.

She was the hottest fuck he’d ever had. And it was so true what they said about the girls who grew up good. They were the baddest and best in bed. Her legs lifted around his hips, her arms around his shoulders. His body held her down against the surface of the table and she clung to him during the plundering.

He couldn’t go slow, couldn’t take it easy. Seeing her open and flowering for him drove him, pushed him to claim her in every way he could. He was her first true lover and if he had anything to say about it, he’d be the only one for a long-ass time.

He plunged deep, withdrew, then bottomed out again. She was the tightest damn thing. Driving hard, his balls slapped against her ass until they drew up tight against his body. One final thrust pressed the head of his cock against her womb and he emptied inside her.

Every inch of her surrounded every inch of him and he couldn’t think of any other place he would rather be.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. She nipped and licked at his skin.

“I’m crushing you, kitten.”

“No,” she murmured. She shook her head, too, as punctuation for her word.

“The bed would be more comfortable.”

She nodded this time and he smiled against her hair. He lifted his head and met her lips for a soft, lingering, eyes open kiss. Something passed between them in that moment. He’d fucked her with an object never intended for that purpose. Then, he’d climbed on and rutted, plundered and pillaged her body. But the kiss? Yeah, his entire world fell over on its ass.

He untangled himself from her arms and legs and slid from the table. “Let’s go.”

Holding out a hand to her, he helped her up, then held her for a moment until she was no longer wobbly on her feet. There was a small wet spot on the green felt. He pointed it out to her and was rewarded with a blush. He laughed at her false modesty.

He left the cue on the table and took her hand. Exhaustion held him in its grip and for the second night in a row, he looked forward to having a woman sleep next to him.

 

* * * * *

 

“Did I do okay tonight?”

She was sitting cross-legged in the center of his bed, still naked, this time with her socks off. She looked for all the world like a girl discovering everything around her. A girl seeing life and color and daylight for the first time. She was touching texture and dipping below the surface of her existence. She was more beautiful than any woman he’d ever met.

And she was asking him if she’d done okay. “Work or after?”

“Work. I’ve never had a real job before.”

“You worked in the bridal shop. That was real work, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but not like this. This was physical work. That was adding up numbers.”

“Most people would see that as real work.” She only shrugged in response. “How do you feel about it?”

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, then raised her eyes to his again. “Tired. I liked it, though. I mean, people can be messy, but I’ve cleaned up after worse when I did mission work and summer camp. No one knows what hard work is until they’ve cleaned up after hundreds of preteens. I’ll take cleaning tables and doing dishes in a bar any day.”

Dallon laughed. His life was taking a fucking spin out in the short time span of twenty-four hours and he didn’t know how to stop it. He’d never felt so out of control, but so in control at the same time. Was it because they grew up in similar situations? Was it because he’d never connected with another woman the way he connected with her? Or was it because she didn’t shy away from exploring her sexuality? Whatever he threw at her, she spread her legs and arms for, and was right there to take him on. Whatever the hell it was, he wanted to keep exploring it, keep showing her new experiences.

He laid down on his side, propped himself on his elbow and stroked the inside of her thigh closest to him. “You did a wonderful job. You did more than I expected of you. Busing tables and taking drinks to tables …”

“Did I do it wrong?”

“Not at all. You looked happy, talking to people, laughing and smiling. I liked seeing that.” Hell, he liked more than that. He liked her being there, within reach, close enough he could touch, kiss, spank.

“I was happy. Everything is so different than what I’m used to. I turned my life completely upside down, didn’t I? I quit my job and walked into a bar. I told my parents I wanted my own life and they walked away.”

“Yes, I would say you did.” He knew what it was like though. He’d dived in head first, too. “After I told my father that I wouldn’t be going to seminary, he threw me out. The first stop I made on my way out of town, was the tattoo shop. That’s how I met Jaz. In the time it took him to do the barbed wire design, I’d opened up little by little. He talked me into staying around. He introduced me to Vinter. And the next thing I knew, the three of us decided to buy the bar, partner up in the tattoo parlor, and start a garage band.”

“Wow. All I did was come to you for sex.”

Dallon grinned and reached up to kiss her nose. “And damn good sex it’s been too.”

“Has it?”

“Has it? Are you kidding me? Kitten … Come on, now. A beer bottle, a pool cue, a barstool and you’re asking me if it’s been damn good sex?”

He didn’t think he’d ever tire of seeing her blush. He tugged her arm until he’d pulled her across his body. She made him happy, made him feel as if there was some other purpose beyond fucking as many women as he could. “Look at me.” She lowered her hands and opened her eyes. They held uncertainty in their depths, but there was also the hunger he was growing used to seeing. “The beer bottle was a test. I thought you’d scramble off the table and run. You didn’t. You stayed, took it inside your pretty pussy and gave back to me everything I asked. You wanted me to teach you how to be naughty and I’ve done my best. Are you disappointed?”

She shook her head and he brushed the hair from her face. “No. A little sore, but not disappointed. I … You have so much more experience than I do and I …”

“It’s the passion between two people. It’s the lust, the desire, and believe me, kitten, we have that in spades.”

Dallon kissed her on the forehead, drew his lips down the bridge of her nose and kissed the tip, then took her lips. She gave as good as she got in this, too. The sexiest kisses he’d ever had, complete with her little mewling sounds and tight hold on him.

“I don’t want it to end, yet.”

He barely heard the words she whispered into his mouth before she snuggled into his chest, but … “Carrie?” She shook her head against him and refused to look up.

He waited for, expected the panic to set in. She clung to him. She asked for more from him. This was the moment he’d been dreading. He waited, but there was only her warmth against his body, her breath teasing the hairs on his chest, and her heart beating against his ribs.

All he felt was the need to be close to her, to be near her. She might have come to him looking to explore and learn, but he was the one learning.

He pulled her on top of him and forced her to look at him. He took hold of her thighs and spread them over his hips. The second he felt her still-soaked cunt, he thrust up, filling her. She gasped, her mouth formed a little “O”, and her eyes glazed over with heat and desire.

“Carrie …” She focused on him. “We’re not done.”

“No?”

“Not by a long shot.” She smiled the most beautiful fallen angel smile and he knew he’d just lost his soul. He urged her to sit up, her ass resting on his thighs, his arms folded under his head, for all the world looking as casual as could be. “Now, show me what you’ve learned so far …”

 

 

 

 

Trademarks Acknowledgement

 

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

 

Corona Extra: Cerveceria Modelo, S.A. de C.V.

FedEx: Federal Express Corporation

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for reading Dallon: A Simple Need Story

 

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Coming February 22, 2018

 

 

 

By night, she’s a waitress in a club because it pays the bills. By day, she’s a boutique jewelry designer trying to catch a break. And this year, on her birthday, she’s got her sweet heart and dirty thoughts set on one gift … Him.

 

He’s one of the last bachelor bad boys in town.

He’s the one who runs the tattoo parlor.

He’s the one with the record.

He’s the one to make all her wicked, erotic dreams come true …

 

 

“Where is she?”

Jackie turned to him, surprise in her eyes. “You came. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I don’t know why not. You know how I feel about her.” Jaspar tried to keep the censure out of his tone, but he wasn’t sure he’d been all that successful. He was a mass of nervous excitement. “Her” was Mandi, the one woman who could make him harder than an aluminum softball bat and make his palms sweat with nothing more than the quirk of her lips.

“I know what you want with her doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with feelings.”

His gaze narrowed on her face. “Jesus, Jackie, you know me better than that.”

“I do, but since I hadn’t heard from you since earlier in the week…” She smiled up at him, linking her arm through his, giving it a warm squeeze of sentiment and support. “She’s in the back.”

“Good.”

“She’s not expecting you.”

Jaspar winked. “Even better.”

He walked down the long, dark hallway toward the changing room of Katz. The multi-purpose establishment of bar, grill and adult entertainment club was hopping tonight. There wasn’t an empty seat in the place. Jackie had done well for herself and he couldn’t have been more proud of her.

They’d grown up as foster siblings. She had been adopted and moved away, but they’d kept in touch even when she’d gone off to college and he got into trouble with the law, she still wrote to him, still believed in him. She’d been the one who met him when he got out, gave him a job at Katz, and eventually introduced him to his business partners and best friends, Vinter and Dallon. She was the only family he had and it was through her that he’d met the woman of his dreams.

Jaz laughed at his poetic thoughts. Woman of his dreams indeed, considering those dreams were wet ones, waking him up hard, horny and so goddamn hot for the raven-haired, blue-eyed minx. She was shy around him, never looking him in the eyes, barely speaking to him at all beyond asking what he wanted to eat or drink or to ask if he needed anything else after she’d brought it to him.

No, she’d given her open, beautiful smiles to his friends, to other customers, to everyone else except him. And it only made him want her more.

He stopped at the end of the hallway, in front of the black door with the single sign that stated Kittyz Only. He raised his hand to knock, but then lowered it to the doorknob. He slipped inside the room, flipping the lock door behind him.

The large space was empty in the middle, but along the walls were mirrors, tables, a set of moveable lockers and two clothes racks, each one filled with various types of lingerie. For a second, Jaz wasn’t sure the woman in question was even in the room until he then heard the humming from behind one of the clothes racks. She emerged a second later clad in a bra and the short denim skirt that Jackie insisted all her girls wear.

“Mandi.” Wide … Green? Her eyes were green? No, she was supposed to have blue eyes. “Why do you have green eyes?” he asked, suspicious as he looked at the bright emerald color. He didn’t think it was possible, but damn if his internal temp hadn’t jacked up a few degrees.

“Jaz. What are you doing in here?”

“Answer me. Why are your eyes green?”

She visibly swallowed and took a step back. He silently cursed himself for the harsh demand and for startling her. He was a big man, standing six foot four, and within about six inches on either side of being as wide in the shoulders as a standard doorway, and Mandi, well, she was a small woman, at least in stature. The curves she had though … her hips, that ass, those tits were anything but.

“Contacts. They made my eyes blue.”

“Why did you wear them?”

“Jackie,” she quickly blurted. “It’s her club. She dictates how her girls are going to look. She already had a girl with black hair and green eyes. She wanted a girl with black hair and blue eyes.”

Jaz nodded his understanding and let his gaze travel her body from head to toe. The black bra stood stark against her pretty pale skin. The slight, rounded softness of her torso, the flare of her hips inside her skirt, the strong legs that were encased in knee-high platform boots… God, what else did she have on? Was there a thong under the denim? Satin? Lace?

“Jaz?”

His dick was about to push itself out of his jeans. His hands fisted at his sides and he pressed himself hard against the door at his back. He closed his eyes, tried to think of something else beyond her half-nakedness just a few feet in front of him. He needed to get himself under control, but now that he was here, in private with her, all he could think about was…

“Jaz? Are you all right?”

She was closer. He hadn’t heard her move, couldn’t hear anything but the echo of her voice inside his head and the blood pounding in his ears.

He took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, but it didn’t do any good. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly or function normally until he sated the lust thrumming through him. She smelled of flowers, of spice, of sweet innocence and sins.

“Jaz?”

She was even closer now, and her hand … Fuckin’-A, her hand was on his arm and that was just too much. He opened his eyes a split second before he grabbed for her, hauling her up into his body, lifting her off the floor with his arms and taking her shocked mouth with his tongue.

She was a heavy weight against him, a big girl, but shit, he loved it. He was a big man, hard-muscled, strong. She was all womanly give when she melted. And, man, did she ever melt.

Her tongue met his, tangled, dueled, tagged and finally sucked until he groaned and shifted her. One large hand gripped her ass tightly. The other fisted in her hair to hold her head steady. She wrapped her legs around his hips and wiggled her pussy against his denim-covered dick. He could have come right then had her hair not distracted him by coming off in his palm.

Ripping his mouth from hers, he all but dropped her. Again, she’d shocked him by not being what she appeared to be on the outside.

“A wig?” Her mouth was red and swollen from their kiss, and when she licked her lips, he had to try to rein in his unruly lust and not kiss her again just yet.

“Yes.”

“Take the pins out of your hair. Let me see what it looks like.”

She made a push at his shoulders, but he wasn’t about to give. “Put me down.”

“No. I had you secure when we were kissing, I can keep hold of you while you take your hair down.” She stared at him and he stared right back, daring her to deny his request, though he supposed it came out more as an order. He didn’t care. Her outward appearance so far wasn’t altogether truthful, and he wasn’t in the mood to debate if he’d asked nicely or not.

His want of her, however, hadn’t diminished one iota. He still wanted her, and he was still going to have her. If she let him. In that, she would say yes or no, and he’d abide by it. But, god, he hoped she said yes. Too many months without a woman was taking its toll on his sanity, because all his body wanted was this one particular woman.

“I’m not gonna drop you,” he offered gently.

He tossed the black wig over to one of the tables and angled his arm along her back, giving her more steady support. For added measure, she tightened her legs at his hips. How many nights had he thought of her like this, with her legs wrapped around his body, clad in those boots?

She lifted her arms. For a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off the way the move raised her breasts a scant few inches. The shadowed V between them tempted his tongue to slide down and taste her skin, but that would have to wait. One by one, the pins dropped from her fingers as she loosened her hair. Blonde curls touched her shoulders in some places, in others, the curls stood out at odd angles from having been held down.

She shook it out and finally leveled her gaze at him. Innocent. That was the first word that came to mind looking at her up close. Behind the somewhat heavy makeup she still wore, the natural color of her hair and eyes gave her such an innocent look that Jaz couldn’t stop the growl in his throat.

“Are you disappointed?”

Her voice was a whisper and her breath fanned his face. Disappointed? As if. He hadn’t thought it possible to be any more turned-on by her than before, but now …  Damn, his dick was going to murder him if it didn’t get to slide up between her thighs and fuck until it hurt.

“No.”

“Mad?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Horny.”

Those green eyes widened, that sexy mouth formed a tight little O, but then she smiled, and horny wasn’t all he was. Fuck.

Then she asked, “For me?”

Jaz was dumbfounded. How could she ask him that? He was standing there, holding her in his arms with her legs spread around him, and she was asking him if he was horny for her? He caught a glimpse of her eyes before she lowered her heavy-with-mascara lashes over them. There was uncertainty mixed with heat. That was all he needed to know.

“Yeah, baby. All for you.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

Her hands were restless against his arms and she was looking at his mouth. He found he loved holding her, cradling her, and what started out as gut-wrenching lust six months ago when she’d shown up at Katz was turning into something a whole lot more. Big, hulking, bald, tattooed, pierced ex-con Jaz was falling and falling hard.

He sure as hell hoped it didn’t hurt when he hit the ground.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

“Why?”

Jaz laughed and nipped at her chin, causing her to look up at him again. “This,” he nudged her with his hips. “And …” He kissed his way along her jaw until he could tug at her ear with his teeth. She moaned softly and tilted her head. “Happy Birthday,” he whispered hotly, and she shivered against him. Damn.

Gonna. Be. The. Fucking. Death. Of. Him.

“Jackie told you?”

He nodded and nipped at her chin again, sliding his tongue into the dimple. “She did.” He might as well lay it all out. “Truth is I’ve had a thing for you since the first night you showed up at my table. She picked up on it. She thought you had a bit of a thing for me as well. So, here I am …”

“I do. She knows I do. I’ve told her. I can’t believe I’m telling you. I never imagined … Y-you’re my present?”

Her smile lit up the room. The words out of her mouth weakened his knees, reminded him once more of innocence, and made his dick even harder.

“I am. For twenty-four hours, I am all yours. We can do anything, go anywhere.”

“Anything?”

Her eyes flared with heat and she shimmied in his arms, pressing down on his cock. She grinned at his strangled groan. He wasn’t even sure he could get words to pass through his lips. “I take it you know at least one thing you want to do?”

“Oh yes. Is that … Is that okay?”

So bold one minute, so shy the next. The blush that covered her cheeks showed even under all the make-up. “Damn, woman. I’m harder than a pole and you’re asking me if it’s okay to fuck?”

She ducked her head against his shoulder and laughed while nodding. A pinch on her ass had her yelping and lifting her head enough that he could capture her mouth again. Tentative for less than a moment before her tongue was between his lips and she was stealing his breath. Her arms around his neck, she pressed her bra-covered tits against his chest. Even through that layer and the layer of his t-shirt, he could feel her nipples, hard, pointing.

Jaz pushed away from the door. He walked, hobbled, stumbled as best he could to the nearest table. She lifted her mouth from his, and he allowed her to slide down his body. Those damn boots, those sexy-as-all-hell boots brought the top of her head to his shoulder where otherwise her head would fit perfect in the center of his chest.

“Turn around and put your hands on the table. Push your ass back toward me.”

She did as he told her, slowly pivoting on one chunky heel, flipping her blonde hair, sending him the sexiest “Come and get me, big boy” look he’d ever seen. His jeans were unbuttoned and his cock was in his hand before she could get into position good. The woman wanted to fuck on her birthday and he was more than happy, more than willing to oblige her every minute of the next twenty-four hours.

“Bend over more, rest your weight on your elbows.” He inched the skirt up over her hips with his free hand, baring her ass to his view for the first time. He ached at the sight of the lace panties she wore. He wanted to rip them from her body. “Are these special?” he asked, tugging at the waistband.

“No.”

“Good. Look up in the mirror.”

She did and their eyes met. He smiled and tugged sharply on the crotch of her panties, ripping a hole in the lace. The green orbs widened and he smiled while watching her. The color darkened as they started to dilate, and his fingers found her sex. And damn, she was wet, soaked inside as he parted the lips and delved deeper. A moan escaped, but she never looked away. His gaze was held captive by the hunger and arousal he saw staring back at him.

Her lips were swollen, both sets, and he parted the lower ones with his thumb to stroke her clit. His fingers were thick and he slid a second one inside her, stretching her, and slowly began to drive them upward, hard and steady.

The heels of her boots and her bent-over position had her at just the right height for him to thrust forward, for him to—

“Jaz, please … Do it. Make me …”

His fist tightened on his cock in anticipation. “Make you what?”

She pushed down on his hand, bore down on his thumb and rocked back on her heels. “Come.”

“Not until I get inside you.” Even as he said the words, he curled the two fingers inside her against the soft pad of her G-spot and rubbed. Her breath caught and her knuckles turned white as she pressed her hands into the table.

“Please. I’m ready. I can take it, please …”

“But maybe I’m not ready,” Jaz teased.

“Liar. Fuck me.”

Dear god. “Say it again.”

“Liar.”

“Goddamn wench.” He tried to smile but it came across as something more feral and grimacing. “Say it.”

“Fuck me.” She rocked herself on the invading digits and he let go of his cock long enough to reach up and pop the hooks on her bra. The straps immediately slid down her arms.

“One more time. Say it, Mandi.” Jaz stepped in closer, his cock brushing against her ass, sliding down toward her pussy, and as he pulled his fingers out, he drew some of her wetness across the crown. He bit back a curse of his own and touched the head to her newly vacated opening.

“Fuck. Me.”

She settled farther back on her heels and impaled herself on the first half-inch. He’d have let her keep going if she’d had something to hold on to, but she didn’t, so he gripped her hips, pushed forward, and her feet hit the floor again as he sank fully inside her. The lace of her torn panties added another bit of sensation to his already sensitive cock shaft, and the sight of it made his mouth dry.

Their groans, grunts, moans and sighs echoed off the concrete walls. He pulled back then pushed in again, letting go of her right hip to reach under her. She lifted and his palm closed over one of her large, oh so fucking perfect tits with the pebbled nipple tormenting him. He wanted to taste it, roll it around his tongue, nibble on it with the edges of his teeth. He wanted to grip, tug and twist it. He wanted … so many things.

Jaz leaned down over her back, pumping his hips against the softest, most-incredible out-of-this-world ass, driving his cock deep inside the hottest most divine pussy… He kissed along her shoulder, licked up her neck, and she turned her head just a small fraction so he could place a kiss on her cheek. Their eyes stayed locked in the mirror and she smiled. He answered with one of his own while dropping his other hand down between her legs, his big fingers reaching for her clit.

“Do you need this? Do you need this in order to come,” he whispered into her hair.

“Yes. Always.”

“Then give it to me.”

Her eyes flashed with a hint of laughter. “But … But it’s my birthday.”

“So. You think I should give it to you?”

“Yes please.”

He rubbed circles around the little button, drawing moans and pulling gasps from between her lips. He lifted and watched his cock as he pulled back with his hips then watched it disappear inside her again. They were both soaked with her juices. Every time he pulled out, more pooled inside the ripped crotch of her ruined panties.

“Now that you brought up things that should be given to you on your birthday, you know what that means don’t you?”

“No.”

The thought alone was going to make him come. “It means …” He leaned down again, pressed his mouth to her ear, pulled down on her clit, and whispered, “A spanking.”

“Ooohhh.”

She shook her head at the same moment her pussy started to spasm against his cock. She moved against his thumb and forefinger violently, nearly dislodging his cock, biting her lip and letting out only a small whimpering moan as the orgasm quaked through her.

He couldn’t hold out anymore either. The sensations, the feel of her, the sight of her all contrasting differences to what he was used to seeing when he looked at her, the words “fuck me” from her lips, the fact that he was actually with her, inside her, playing with her, touching her was all too much in the face of her coming all over his dick.

He let go of her clit and held her hips as he slammed into her hard and without mercy. The sweat that had been beading on top of his bald head started to slide down the sides of his face and the back of his neck. He worked her pussy hard, rode her from behind for every ounce he was worth, pushing her up on her toes then pulling her back down on those goth-looking fuck-me bootheels.

She was his fantasy, his goddamn dream, and then he was coming. He pulled out just as the streams of ejaculate started up his cock. All over the back of her already destroyed panties, all over the underside of her denim skirt, he came.

His grunts of pleasure were incoherent, and the blood pounding in his ears was as loud as it had been the second he’d seen her when he walked into the room. She was gonna kill him with lust. And he couldn’t think of a better way to go.

“Did you mean it?”

Her voice sounded very far away, given the buzzing in his brain. “Huh?”

She giggled. “Did you mean it?”

He couldn’t think straight, much less string two words together, and she was giggling at his answer. Jaz took a deep breath then another and still a few more before he started to calm. “Did I mean what?”

“What you said about birthday spankings.”

He met her eyes in the mirror again, and for a moment couldn’t figure out what the look in hers was. Fear? Excitement? “Maybe. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Liar.” He stepped back and tucked his cock back in his jeans. “Can you stand?” He offered a hand and she took it, holding on tight, letting him pull her up. She started to wobble but he caught her around the waist and tugged her around to face him, holding her against his chest. It was the perfect opportunity to tilt her head up and plant a kiss on that lovely mouth. She hummed and smiled.

“Jaz?”

God but he loved hearing his name from her lips. “Hmmm?”

“I’m starving.”