Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance) (7 page)

Chapter Twelve

I take a deep breath and turn around, my hands fumbling
slightly as they reach for the bow on the side of my dress. I pull one side of
it, and the fabric runs through my hands. I let the sides of the dress open as
I walk back to where I was standing.

"Now let it fall around your feet," he says, a
harder edge to his voice. I roll my shoulders back, and the dress falls down my
arms and pools around my feet. I wonder what he thinks of my body as he lets
his eyes work slowly down from my neck, to my breasts, across my stomach, and
down my legs. It took me a long time to grow into my gawkiness, but now I can
take some pride in my long limbs. I take a deep breath. I don't need to be
nervous. I can tell by the way he's staring at me that he likes what he
sees...right? "Your bra," he says.

Another flurry of nerves springs up in my belly. My little
internal pep talk seems not to have worked. I reach my shaking fingers behind
me and unhook my bra. I've done it a thousand times before, but time seems like
it's moving through molasses right now. I reach my arms forward and let it drop
to the floor in front of me in slow motion. I feel more exposed than I've ever
felt in my life. Every nerve ending on my body seems to be up at attention.

There's a long pause, and then he slowly raises his wine
glass to his lips and takes a long sip. He walks over to the table and puts his
glass next to mine, and then turns back. He reaches up and pulls his dress
shirt off, casually tossing it onto a wing-backed chair next to him. If it
weren't for his slacks and dress shoes, he looks just like he did when I first
saw him on the construction site, his muscular arms exposed and his barrel
chest stretching the material of his undershirt. He pulls at it to untuck it
from his pants, and then whips it off over his head.

I bite my lip as he walks slowly toward me. I never knew he
had tattoos. A large compass rose sits on his right pectoral, and a tribal
design extends from beneath it onto his ribcage and under his arm,
incorporating some sort of bird, maybe a hawk, in its design, its wings
corresponding with the angle of his ribs. Just before he reaches me, he stops
and undoes his belt, pulling it slowly out of his pant loops. A wave of heat
spreads from deep in my stomach throughout my body.

He tosses the belt onto the ground, and reaches one hand
around my waist, just like he did when he found me hiding behind the curtain.
But this time he turns it vertically, and smooths his fingers down the side of
my hip, over the narrow part of my cotton thong, and down my thigh. His gaze
follows the action, and he steps closer to me so that I can feel the heat of
his body hit the front of mine.

I can't wait any longer. I step forward into him, my breasts
pillowing against the ink on his chest. His arms wrap around me and come to
rest on my bare ass. With one hand, he grips it roughly, and I feel the other
wind around my hair, wrapping its length around his wrist and holding my head
in place as he leans forward and kisses me.

Our tongues intertwine immediately, desperately. I feel his
erection press into me even as he holds me roughly in place. I wrap my arms
around his thick neck and raise one of my legs around his stomach, the heel of
my shoe digging into the top of his ass.

I'm shocked to feel the tear of fabric as he rips my thong
away. He presses one hand between us, and I feel him fumble into his pocket and
then push his pants and boxers to the ground. He pulls his mouth away from
mine, and I lean back, panting with desire. He reaches both hands down behind
me and pulls my other leg up and around him, sliding his palms under my ass as
he turns around and carries me to the nearest wall and presses my back against
it.

He releases one hand and brings a condom to his mouth,
ripping it open with an animalistic grunt. He reaches down, and I press my hips
toward him. Everything's happening so quickly, with no niceties or scented
candles, but I've never been so ready in my life.

I feel a massive pressure at my opening, and my eyes start
to water as he presses inside me. Fuck, he's huge. Our eyes lock, and despite
the intense hunger in his eyes, he moves his hips forward slowly, letting me
adjust to his size. I let myself relax against him, resting my forehead on his
as I attempt to take all of him in. I feel him adjust my hips upward slightly
and pull my butt cheeks apart as his hips finally press against mine.

He stays there for a moment, just barely rotating his hips.
I raise my head and softly bite his ear, then softly suck on his lobe. He
grunts and I feel his body tense as he struggles to hold himself back. I feel
him pull away, leaving a slight stinging sensation down there, and then the
pressure is back, filling me up completely. My toes curl inside my shoes as he
reaches his depth again. The feeling is so exquisite and painful all at once.

He withdraws again, and this time moves in faster. I'm not
prepared, and let out a cry as he presses in. He pauses, unsure if he's hurt
me.

"Keep going, please," I urge him with a gasp. He
grips my ass tighter, and thrusts in again. I dig my fingers into his unruly
hair as he strokes inside me. My head falls back against the wall, and my chest
arches upward. I moan as he takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and
running his tongue around my areola. I press my lips together for a moment,
worried about the noise I'm making, before I realize that there are no dorm
roommates to concern myself with. We have the house all to ourselves.

My mouth falls open as he moves to my other breast and
begins to move inside me faster and faster. I can feel his hot breath against
my sweat dappled neck as we move together. My mind goes blank, and all I can
feel is him, only him. With an alarming shake, an orgasm moves through me. I
feel my muscles ripple of their own accord and am barely aware of Boone grunting
and releasing himself with a sudden warmth inside me.

My head falls onto his damp shoulder, and I gasp for breath.
For a moment, he leans against me, pressing me into the wall, but then I feel
him step back, his arms moving gently around my back. Then I'm being lowered
onto impossibly soft sheets, and he's pulling the covers over me. I nestle in,
and he walks around to the other side of the bed and slips in beside me.
Drowsily, I turn into him, tucking my head onto his shoulder as he wraps an arm
around me and pulls me in tighter.

"Is it always like that for you?" I ask. My head
is swimming, and my mind is too muddy to act as a filter. I press my nose
against his skin as I wait for him to answer. God, he smells so good. I wish I could
bottle this scent and carry it around with me. I turn up to him, realizing he
hasn't responded yet.

"What do you mean?" he finally says.

"Never had an orgasm with a guy before," I reply.
"Feels...different," I add with a giggle.

"Seriously?" he asks, turning onto one elbow to
look down at me.

"Mm," I reply incoherently.

"You mean from sex, or from foreplay?"

"Either. Both," I say with a small yawn. I blink
my eyes open as I feel him staring down at me. Disconcertingly, when I look up
at him, he's smiling, with an added dangerous glint in his eyes.
"What?" I murmur, peering at him.

"That was nothing," he grunts, and I feel his hand
on my stomach, his calloused palm just below my belly button and his long
fingers spread out wide.

"No, that was definitely
something.
"

He laughs. "There are just so many ways to make you
come," he says, and my breath catches as he begins to slide his hand
downward.

"Yeah?" is all I can say in reply, as my body
lights up in response to his touch. I thought I'd been drained of pleasure for
tonight, and am surprised by how quickly my body is coming back to life. My leg
twitches as his fingertips graze the top of my pubic hair.

"So many," he repeats, and his middle finger
slides over my wet clit. I gasp, feeling electricity shoot out to my
extremities. He begins to circle his finger slowly as he leans down to kiss me.
Unlike earlier, he softly presses his lips over mine, then gently presses his
tongue into my mouth. With every stroke, every kiss, my wetness grows until I'm
aching for release.

He pulls his mouth away. "I wonder how you taste,"
he says. My lips drop open as he ducks his head under the sheets. None of my
boyfriends ever talked to me that way. Sex was always so polite, the lights
shut discreetly off, and the moans kept to a minimum.

I feel his breath hot against my inner thigh. His hands
press against my knees and push my legs wide apart. I close my eyes and try to
control my breathing, but then I feel his tongue flick across my clit, and my
entire body jolts like I've been struck by lightning. I grasp for the sheets
and grip them tightly in my hands, as though I need something to moor me to the
bed and without them I might just float up and away.

His tongue flicks across me again, eliciting a whimper that
bubbles out from my mouth. His tongue presses down and begins to circle me. He
moves it gently, and my pleasure builds up inside me almost to a breaking
point, but he won't release me. I moan as I feel him slip a finger inside me.
He strokes it against my g-spot, but not quite hard enough.

"Boone, please," I beg, as the ache he's creating
becomes almost painful. I tug the sheet aside and he looks up at me, my own
wetness on his lips. Teasingly, he moves his head back down, staring at me as
he flicks his tongue back and forth across my clit. "I need..." I
gasp, as my hips press toward him pleadingly.

"You need what?" he demands, his finger still
circling inside me, hitting my g-spot with every rotation.

"You. I need you, Boone," I moan. He reaches for
his bedside table and pulls out another condom. As he rolls it on his hard cock
with one hand, he grabs a pillow with the other and pushes it under my ass.
With both his hands free, he takes my legs and puts my ankles onto his
shoulders. One hand stays on one ankle, while the other moves back down to my
clit. With his thumb, he begins to rub me back and forth harder and faster.

Just as I'm about to come, I feel his cock pressing into me.
My hands fly up and I press my palms against the headboard behind me. His thumb
moves around and around as he thrusts inside me and I unspool around him, my
back arching off the mattress as he simply circles his hips against me.

He only gives me a second to rest before he's pulling his
cock back out and plunging in again. He finds a rhythm, his hips and thumb
moving together. I cry out, my body protesting. I want to come again, but my
body is exhausted and holding me back.

"You have to let yourself surrender to it," Boone
says, reading me like a book. He drops my ankle, and bends down. My legs rest
against the mattress as he rests his chest against me. His smell is comforting,
and he softly kisses me as his hips continue to push into me. His hand moves to
my face, his thumb circling under my chin as he rests his palm on my cheek and
looks down at me. "Open your eyes, Callie," he murmurs.

I do, and find his gaze so full of intensity that I'm locked
in, entranced. He begins to grunt with each thrust, his jaw working to hold
himself back until I'm there with him.

"Yes, yes," I gasp.

"Oh, fuck, Callie," he groans as he releases
himself inside me and my body shakes against him. He collapses on top of me,
letting his full weight rest on me as I wrap my legs and arms protectively
around his thick, sweaty body.

Finally he rolls over, extricating his limbs from mine. He
reaches up and runs a finger across my lips, drowsily watching me with a smile.
His eyes begin to close, and I stay frozen, watching him until he falls asleep.

Every bone in my body wants to stay here with him. Not just
because I'm absolutely exhausted, but because I want nothing more than to be
able to wake up next to him. But I know that I have to be there when my dad
wakes up in the morning, and besides, I can't imagine Boone likes women to stay
the night.

I slip out of bed, tiptoeing around to redress myself and
tossing my torn panties in the wastebasket. I steal one quick look back at him,
looking like a tattooed Greek god in a tangle of expensive sheets, and softly
close the door behind me.

Chapter Thirteen

Boone

"Boone!" Mason says from the driver's seat.

"Hm?"

"You're grinding your teeth so loud they can probably
hear it in Atlanta," he says with a laugh.

"Oh, sorry," I murmur, and stare back out the
window. I don't know why he's decided to come to this meeting at Upland, and I
don't like it. Usually he stays out of the actual deals involved in running the
company, preferring to stay in his handsomely-appointed office and schmoozing
with well-connected Savannah residents. Does he not trust me to do this
rebranding by myself, even after all these years?

But that's not really what's bothering me. I can admit that
much to myself. The truth is, I've been in a shitty mood since yesterday
morning, when I woke up and Callie was gone. It's not like I've never slipped
out of a woman's bed in the middle of the night, but the difference is that I'm
always the one leaving.

At least the meeting today is just with the Creative
Director, and if Callie thinks I'm going to go out of my way to seek her out,
then she's got another thing coming. I can play it cool just as well as she
can. I've been doing it for years. I mean, hell, I gave her the first orgasms a
man has ever given her. Or so she said... Fuck. Is she the one playing me here?

Is it always like that for you?
she asked when we
were lying in bed together. I didn't answer her, but the words keep rattling
around in my head. I try to push them away, try to explain away what I felt
while she was pressed against me, when I felt her perfect fit around my cock,
and I can't. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe she's got extra-strong pheromones.
Maybe...

"Here we are," Mason says, pulling into a spot in
the building's underground lot. We head up in the elevator to the top floor,
and a young female receptionist eagerly stands to greet us as we walk to the
front desk.

"I'll just let Martha know you're here," she says.
As she picks up the phone and punches in her boss's extension, I see her peer
up at me through her eyelashes, and subconsciously or not, her hand goes to the
top button of her blouse and fiddles it back and forth. I've had women react
this way to me since I hit my late teens. I mean, it's nice to know I have the
option, but I'm not really in the mood to pursue this girl.

Martha comes out of her office with an alacrity befitting
the presence of her biggest clients. We follow behind her, and Mason chats her
up. I can feel that I'm being uncharacteristically quiet, and consciously will
myself to shake off my dour mood.

We make ourselves comfortable in a seating area opposite her
desk, and Martha pulls out a few very initial design ideas from her team.

"Hm..." Mason murmurs, before Martha even has a
chance to hold the top one up. I feel myself stiffen. I knew he'd pull this
shit. "I'm just not sure that captures the traditional Woodall & Sons spirit.
This is a business that's been passed down through my family for
generations," he says, as though he's telling her something she doesn't
know.

"Of course," she replies, nodding her head as
though he's said something incredibly wise.

Over the course of the next hour, Mason manages to find
something wrong with each preliminary design, though he's never very specific
about what he doesn't like. I feel my mouth begin to twitch with annoyance. If
I'd been here alone, we would have gotten through this meeting already and come
out with solid steps on how to move forward. And when I would have presented
Mason with the final idea, he would have loved it. It's only when he starts
micromanaging that he holds up the operation. He blames it on the ideas, but I
think it comes down to his being unsure over the decisions he makes.

Finally, we stand up and shake Martha's hand. I can see a
fissure of worry on her forehead, even though she's smiling. I share her
concern. The grand opening of 100 River Street isn't too far away, and should
be much further along in the rebranding. As Mason and I head back into the
elevator, I'm shocked to hear him start humming and glance over at him.

"Just gotta make one quick stop," he says, looking
mischievous. I stare at him for a moment, wondering what he could be referring
to, but decide not to ask. When the doors open on a lower floor, he walks out
with a spring in his step. "Be right back," he says over his
shoulder, and walks away.

I sigh, wondering how long he's going to be. After five
minutes of waiting and catching myself grinding my teeth again, I decide to go
looking for him. If he's going to be much longer, I'll just catch a cab back to
the office and he can drive back when he's done.

I glance over the phalanx of cubicles in the middle of the
floor. I can't see him from here. I wander around the edges, pulling out my
cellphone to call him when I finally hear his voice coming from an open door
down a short hallway. Just before I reach the doorway, a woman's voice pipes up
and I stop in surprise.

"I just wish you would have told me," she says.
It's Callie, and I can tell by her tone of voice that she knows Mason well.

"Guess I can't do anything right," he says, hurt
and anger creeping into his voice.

"That's not what I'm saying. It's just that if people
around here knew, they might think less of me. And it's not like we aren't
going to see each other tonight anyway," she replies beseechingly.

Anger swells in my stomach and ripples over my skin. I spin
on my heel and head back to the elevator, angrily punching the down button. The
thought that Callie could have a boyfriend had already occurred to me, but not
in a million years did I think that it could be Mason Woodall.

Makes sense, now that I think about it. She's definitely been
hiding something big, and Mason was oddly excited to come here today. That must
be why he picked Upland Designs in the first place, so he could throw his
girlfriend some business.

I burst out of the lobby level and onto the street, feeling
disgusted. Callie knew that I'm her boyfriend's business partner, and she still
slept with me. I know one thing for sure, and that's that I never want to see
her again. Now I just have to decide if I should tell Mason what his
girlfriend's been up to behind his back.