“Thanks for the ice cream,” Natalie said when Josh parked his car in front of her house. After leaving Dina’s, he suggested a quick stop at the Dairy Queen for dessert, and she accepted. She’d ended up leaving her Silverado in the parking lot and taken a ride with him. She’d pick up her car tomorrow. What she really wanted now was to see where this would lead.

She didn’t have a lot of experience with men and dating, but Natalie was no fool. She’d read the scornful look on Vincent’s face during dinner. He didn’t have the guts to claim her, but didn’t want anybody else to have her either. Well, tonight he’d make a decision.

I need to make a decision too. What if Josh wasn’t so bad? They had a few things in common, knew the same people, and grew up in the same town. Except she doubted he’d ever want to leave, especially since he worked in his dad’s shop. A shop that would be his one day. Do I have what it takes to leave?

“I’m glad we did this, Natalie.” He angled closer, and she drew in a breath. The lack of recent dating didn’t spare her from this little nugget of knowledge: he wanted to kiss her.

She glanced at her house, the porch lights on. Was Vincent sleeping? The house was otherwise dark. I’m an idiot.

Turning her face to Josh, she smiled. He touched her chin, and leaned within a breath of her, his eyes focusing on her lips. She found herself meeting him halfway, and opening her mouth. What if his kiss surprised her and helped her get over her attraction for Vincent? In her entire life, she’d never cheated on anyone. Now, she was a free woman.

His lips fused to hers, in a nice, steady friction. She didn’t expect the same fireworks she experienced with her sinful father-in-law, but she hoped to feel something. Josh slid his tongue into her mouth, and she sat straighter and broke the contact. His invasion left no sweet aftertaste or sizzling reactions.

“Sorry. Too much?”

“You’re a great guy, Josh. I’m just not ready to date right now and don’t want to lead you on. I’m sorry,” she said. Hell, she had to give him honesty.

Josh returned to his seat, nodding his head to himself. He let out a sigh of disappointment. “Good night.”

She cleared her throat. “Good night,” she said, opened the door and closed it behind her. She walked briskly to her house, and she heard the motor of his Chevy truck roaring before she twisted the door handle.

She entered her house, and turned on the cheap Walmart floor lamp. She felt Vincent’s presence before her gaze found him sitting on the reading chair next to the coffee table. Her heart drummed at the base of her throat. “Vincent?”

“You kissed him.” He stood, striding up to her.

Oh, crap. He saw it. “You said you didn’t want me.”

He inched closer, and her breath came out in small gasps, making her chest rise and fall. “So you picked that kid from whatever redneck nursery he crawled out of, and paraded him in front of me like I’m a cold-blooded snake?” he said gravely.

“I wouldn’t say cold-blooded, but you’ve held back.”

He grabbed her elbow, making her stare into his angry eyes, but she didn’t flinch. A strand of empowerment threaded down her spine, the delicious sensation stoking a fire in her belly. The way he held her close, claiming ownership, turned her on. She’d never been anyone’s, even while married. She’d always felt alone, the oddball who didn’t think Suarez was all that, but who feared leaving and going somewhere else she didn’t belong. Tonight, she wanted to be his.

“You’re not going to see that kid again, do you hear me?” he said in a low voice, his breath within a hair of hers. “I’ll punch his lights out if he tries to kiss you.”

“Why? Why can’t I see him again?” she loved how defiant she sounded.

Vincent crushed her against the wall, and she gasped, then realized he never stopped holding her. “Because of this,” he said, and finally his lips captured hers.

Excited, she held onto his shoulders, her knees too weak to stand upright. He placed his hands under her ass and lifted her, that was all the encouragement she needed to wrap her legs around his torso. His tongue dominated hers, his kiss intense and passionate. She didn’t hold back, desperate to give him all she’d wanted for days.

She squirmed against him, her pussy already throbbing in recognition of a real man who claimed his woman. She stroked his tongue with hers, and he increased the tempo in a kiss that menaced and punished. “Yes. Oh, yes,” she said several minutes later, when he withdrew his lips from her, and they both gasped for air.

“This is what you wanted,” he said, his tone accusatory.

What we both want. “Yes.”

He slammed his fist on the wall. “You’re trouble, Natalie. Fuck, you’re trouble,” he said, and his mouth came down on hers again, claiming her with a savage’s thirst. Her insides vibrated with anticipation.

She touched his broad shoulders, then slid her hands down his thick, hard biceps. He had the body of a man who had exercised a lot in his life, and not in a gym. She’d seen him cutting wood and using the fancy seesaw he’d brought from NY. Vincent was all man.

Vincent groaned, and put her feet back on the floor. He clasped both thin straps of her dress on either side, and with a swift movement, ripped her dress in half. She startled, the swish of the fabric leaving her body adding another notch of arousal. Suddenly, she stood before him wearing nothing but green underwear.

“You’re something else,” he said with a beam of approval.

Her stomach churned, and she chewed her lower lip. A momentary insecurity stabbed at her—it’d been so long since she last had sex. What if her performance left him underwhelmed? A man like Vincent had his share of experience, and she doubted it involved much younger females who’d spent years in a sexual drought.

“I want you so much, Vincent,” she said, hoping he’d fill in the blanks and pick on her apprehension.

“Me too, darlin’. So much it scares me.” He kneeled before her, dragged her panties down, his gaze lasered on her pussy. He curved his hand under a knee and swung it over his shoulder. She quivered, but he offered her support by bringing her cunt to his mouth. Soon, he explored her slick folds, his tongue lapping at her most intimate flesh. Moans escaped her parted lips.

He put his hands on her ass, kneading her buttocks as he devoured her hot sex. Soon, she shook, pleasure drilling her from top to bottom. A swirl of colors and sensations claimed her, and she mentally thanked him for holding her otherwise she’d have collapsed. Even though she stood upright while he kneeled, he had the upper hand.

She bucked into his mouth, creaming on his face, and he took all of her, hungry for her achy cunt. A few seconds after the convulsions seized, her breath barely coming back to normal, he stood up and slung her over his shoulder, carrying her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, knowing full well what he did, but afraid he’d just take her to her bedroom, and her bed, then say goodnight.

She’d never been carried this way. While he walked with powerful strides, he stroked her ass, his touch searing her flesh and reigniting desire in her lady parts. A primitive need to be fucked by this insanely sexy man clogged her throat, as vital as breathing. She’d never experienced anything remotely similar.

Relief spread through her when he turned left instead of right in the hallway, and entered the room he’d been occupying. A full-size bed, an old dresser and a set of nightstands filled the space. When he eased her onto the bed, she wondered how in hell he’d been sleeping there—his large form dwarfed the black metal frame.

He took off his white shirt, and oxygen deserted her. Wow. His chest was wide, muscly, with the right amount of hair dusting his pecs and disappearing into his shorts. He moved, his hard ridges bunching, the tight 12-pack of his abs shifting. Tattoos swirled around his arms.

She’d read about Renaissance sculptors and knew any of them would have killed to have him as a model.

Moisture evaporated from her throat. “Dang it, Vincent.”

He pulled down his shorts and boxers, and the most gorgeous cock she’d ever seen jutted out. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the large, long dick. A couple of veins throbbed on the underside, his blood probably rushing to the smooth thick head.

She licked the corners of her lips, anticipating the feel of that mind-blowing package in her mouth. But Vincent had other plans. He joined her in bed, covering her body with his.

“God damn it, Natalie. If you keep looking at me like this, I won’t last long.”

She chuckled. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now,” she said in an unapologetic tone. She was naked and under him, so she might as well be honest.

“I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve fucking you,” he said, staring deep into her eyes. “But I’ll take full advantage of the opportunity.”

She smiled. A delicious energy passed between them, an invisible connection she’d waited her whole life for. He dipped his head and caught her lips in a demanding kiss, prompting her with his thigh to spread her legs. Which she did, gladly.

The tip of his cock poked at her entrance, and she whimpered. “So good, honey.”

She rocked her hips into him, desperate to intensify the contact.

Groaning, he thrust his cock into her. She stopped moving and breathing for a moment. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together to keep from shouting. Her inner walls clung to him, as she found a way to take his generous size, her pussy so full and achy. Conflicting emotions overwhelmed her, the eagerness to have him move versus the fleeting pain causing tingles in her core. Everywhere.

“Natalie. Look at me,” he demanded.

She opened her eyes, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. He didn’t soothe her or pull away, watching her instead. Fascination flickered in his hazel eyes. Maybe this… connection they had affected him too.

Her arousal creamed her folds, adding more natural lubrication to her flesh and his. Slowly, the ache from his girth dissipated, and a jolt of lust throbbed at her clit, pushing her to keep going.

“Move with me,” she said. “I’m ready.”

She proved her point by wrapping her legs tightly around his smooth, firm ass. He shot her a mischievous smile, one that shed years from his age. One that clawed its way into her and tugged at her heart.

He withdrew halfway out of her cunt, then pushed back in again, slamming into her wetness. She moaned, sinking her nails into his shoulder blades, scratching his skin.

He reached for her wrists, and pinned them over her head. He kept ramming into her, increasing the addictive rhythm. With each thrust, pleasure built pressure inside her, and her limbs started to tremble, her vision dimming. Vincent didn’t relent, and having him restrain her like that only enhanced the crazy sensations forming, amplifying the maddening spike of her pulse. “Yes. Come undone for me, Natalie,” he egged her on.

She had to fight the urge to close her eyes and give in to the ecstacy. “More,” she begged, knowing full well she couldn’t take much. “More,” she repeated, louder, barely able to string the words along.

Vincent intensified his thrusts, impaling her deeper, harder. Soon, she let out a growl she’d never have recognized as her own before. Pleasure washed over her like some unexpected flooding, leaving her breathless. With one more thrust, he claimed her, and shouted an animalistic groan of his own.

Time stretched like an old, worn-out pair of sweatpants. He rolled over to her side and brought her to him, her head resting on his chest. Neither of them spoke, but she felt rather than heard the fast beating of his heart, and smiled to herself.

She didn’t know how or why, but she knew deep in her gut this wouldn’t be the last time they screwed.