Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders) (24 page)

Get your eyes off his ass.

She cleared her throat. “Dalton?”

“What?”

“It was a childish thing to do, throwing our past history in your face. I don’t even know if you did tell locker room stories back then. But it doesn’t matter now.” She took a breath. “So from here on out I won’t brag about how awesome you are in bed to anyone. I’ll just walk around with a smug smile on my face all the time because I get to experience that awesomeness firsthand. You can call me the Mona Rory. No one will know what my secret smile means.”

He sighed. Then he stood and turned toward her. “I appreciate the apology and I’m sorry if it seems like I overreacted. What’s between us
is
special. I don’t ever want to lose sight of that or take it for granted, Rory.”

When Dalton didn’t come forward and hug her after that sweet confession, she said, “That’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“We’re not gonna kiss and make up or anything?”

A dangerous look flared in his eyes. “Sure we can. As long as I get to pick where to kiss you.”

Her sex pulsed twice—the equivalent of yelling
pick me, pick me!

Her cunt was such an attention whore sometimes.

She started to retreat. “I thought you agreed to take a break from
bom chicka wah wah
.”

“I did. But since your poor pussy is sore and that is my fault, I oughta kiss it all better.” He stalked her. “Besides didn’t you call yourself the Moanin’ Rory? I’ll make that happen and then some.”

“The
Mona
Rory. A joke. From the
Mona Lisa
. Get it?”

“Yep. But you’re gonna get it too.”

“Dalton—”

“Aurora. Come here.” His tone went from sexy and playful to sexy and demanding.

Shit. She never ever ever thought she’d be the woman who’d go all weak-kneed when a guy ordered her around. She never ever ever thought she’d be more focused on the inflections in his voice than the words.

“You should see your eyes. They’re as dark as emeralds.”

“That definitive tone of yours is a major fucking turn-on.”

“I mean every word I say to you.” Then Dalton was on his knees, urging her to lean against the counter, untying her robe, spreading her thighs apart.

Settling his mouth on her pussy, he undid her completely with sweetness. Gifting her with soft licks and gentle sucks. Using tenderness to soothe her tender tissues. Yet each pass of his mouth on her flesh made her hot, made her wet, made her dizzy, made her even more crazy for him.

The orgasm spun Rory completely out of orbit. Dalton’s tongue didn’t go wild when she started to come. He kept the easy cadence, alternating soft sucks of his lips with slow, long licks, drawing out the throbbing until her knees gave out.

Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the couch.

No man had ever just handled her like that. Whenever Dalton picked her up, like she was a normal sized girl and not a gigantic freak, she felt petite. Coddled. Protected. Something she’d never known she’d wanted. And he gave it to her without asking.

“How about if we take a break and watch some TV?”

“Okay.” She curled into him. After thirty minutes of mind-numbing poker, Rory began to drift off. Half-sleepily she said, “You never answered my question.”

“About what?”

“Anal sex.”

His body stilled. “What about it?”

“Are you expecting it from me?”

“When it comes to sex I don’t expect anything from you except honesty. If you don’t like something we do, tell me. I can tell if you’re into what we’re doin’ when I hear that sexy moan of yours.” He stroked her hair. “You worried I’m gonna bend you over and ram my dick up your ass without warning?”

Rory blushed. Then felt stupid for it. She was twenty-eight years old. This man was her lover. It was natural to discuss all sides of sex. “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“No guy you’ve been with has tried to sweet-talk you into giving him a sample of this sweet ass?”

“Nope. And I’ve never been the adventurous type who’d just announce to a lover,
hey you know what would mix it up tonight? If we tried anal. I’ll grab the lube and a corncob for a practice run
.”

Dalton laughed. “Well, don’t kid yourself that you’re not sexually adventurous if you’re willing to stick a corncob up your butt.”

“I have no idea where that came from.”

“How about let’s not dig too deeply into that.”

“Deal.”

“That said, any time you want to try a little back door lovin’, I’m game.”

“You’ve had experience with it?”

“Not with you and that’s all that matters to me. If you’re asking if I can make it good for you?” His mouth brushed her ear and he breathed, “Oh yeah, baby, I can make it
great
for you.”

During a commercial break, Dalton said, “We probably better come up with something we can do together besides sex. Like a hobby.

Rory gasped dramatically. “So riding the hobbyhorse isn’t a real hobby?”

“Shocking, I know,” he said dryly. Then he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Stay with me tonight. I won’t try and have my wicked way with you. I just sleep better when you’re in my bed.”

Say no. Retain your head, girl. Retain some control.

“I can’t.”

Dalton studied her patiently.

She could’ve said she needed to spend time with her mom, which wasn’t a lie. By not giving him a concrete reason for saying no, she reiterated her position—their lives weren’t completely intertwined.

He didn’t argue; he couldn’t when he’d told her he no longer offered justifications for his decisions to anyone, but she sensed his disappointment. And her supposed victory felt a little hollow.

Chapter Sixteen

Dalton had made progress updating the kitchen. He’d removed the melamine countertops and ordered marble laminate countertops that’d be delivered next week. He’d installed a deeper stainless steel sink. He’d painted the walls a khaki green, weird for a kitchen in his opinion, but it was what Sierra wanted. Good thing she’d color coordinated everything because he sure wouldn’t have picked half the oddball colors.

He’d cracked a beer and was about to hang the refaced cabinet doors when someone knocked at his door.

His heart skipped a beat. His cock stirred—it had a mind of its own when it came to Rory—his brain roared
MINE
, and his body set out to prove it.

He opened the door with, “Baby, I’ve told you that you don’t have knock.” Except it wasn’t Rory on the threshold but his cousin Ben. “Hey, Ben. Sorry, I thought you were someone else. Come on in.”

“Just as long as you promise to never ever call me baby again.”

“Deal.” He stepped back to let him in. “Am I on the family’s shit list and they sent the peacemaker to talk some sense into me?”

Ben shook his head and handed Dalton a paper bag that held a six-pack. He hung his black Carhartt on the coat tree Rory had bought for him earlier this week. “Are you telling me none of our other cousins have been over to see you?”

Dalton moved into the kitchen. “You’re the first.” He opened the bag and fished out two bottles of Moose Drool beer. “You joining me for a cold one?”

“Sure.” He took the beer from Dalton but his gaze was taking in the kitchen. “You’ve got some major renovation goin’ on here.”

“Not too much actually. Person that owns this house is trading rent for my fixer-upper skills. She buys the materials and I follow the unending lists of what I need to do. Keeping me busy so far.” Dalton pulled out a chair and sat.

Ben followed suit. “Looks good. You gonna be here long enough to do the whole house?”

“We’ll see.”

“I didn’t know you were so handy.”

“Neither did I.” He shrugged. “Like most things I’ve had to learn on my own.”

“So is it a new skill?”

“Some of it. But I gutted the trailer after I moved into it years ago. Learned more from screwing up than anything else.”

“I hear ya.” Ben frowned. “Don’t remember if I’ve ever been inside your old trailer.”

“Probably not. Didn’t have drop by visits from anyone back then either.”

Ben leaned back in his chair. “Fill me in on what’s been goin’ on in Dalton’s life.”

“That friend of yours, Boden? I kept in touch with him during my travels. When they lost their hunting guide last year before the opening of hunting season, I stepped in. Been in Montana ever since.” Moping, as Sierra had pointed out.

“Whoa. How’d you and Boden get to be friends?”

Dalton looked Ben in the eye. “At the Rawhide Club.”

That shocked his cousin. “Wait. Are you a member?”

“Guest.” Dalton’s face heated as it did every time he thought about how he’d reacted after seeing something he hadn’t understood. “Look, Ben, that’s the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done—calling your brothers and staging an intervention about your sex life. Not even walkin’ out on my own wedding holds a candle to that boneheaded moment in my life.”

“You gotta know that’s been over and done with for a long time.” He sipped his beer. “So the club must’ve made an impression on you if you’re still goin’ there…six years later?”

“The place—the whole situation opened my eyes. So a few months after you resigned from the club, I went in and ended up talkin’ to Layla.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’ about you or Ainsley. That wasn’t why I went in. I wanted to understand more about that lifestyle choice ’cause it was pretty fucking obvious I didn’t have a clue.”

“And? What’d you learn?”

“More than anything I learned different strokes for different folks.”

Ben choked on his beer and Dalton laughed.

“Got ya there, cuz.”

“Smart ass.”

“Eventually I learned there ain’t no one-size-fits-all sexual playbook. I stopped in and I took in scenes, figuring I’d try them out in the privacy of my own bed. I assumed once I had the right sex moves down I wouldn’t have to try so hard with women. I’d be a killer lay.” Dalton shook his head. “Jesus. This is really embarrassing to admit, so just tell me to shut the fuck up and we can go back to kitchen remodeling.”

Ben shook his head. “Keep talkin’.”

Dalton chugged most of his beer. “Without goin’ into specifics, I’ve been in some pretty fucked up situations with women over the years. I never quite…got it. Hell, I even hooked up with a lesbian for a while so she could teach me about women. Didn’t work. I think she knew less about what women wanted than I did.”

Ben chuckled.

“I’m not qualifying this, but I never participated in any activities at the Rawhide. Not out of fear, or worry about bein’ judged.”

“Then why abstain? It is a sex club.”

“Because when it came to sex I’d always acted first and didn’t consider the results of my actions until it was too late.”

“When did you come to that realization?”

“After Tell and Georgia got married in Vegas. Hot women were coming on to me only because they thought I had money. When I got back home, I realized women were coming on to me because my last name was McKay. Or some women were avoiding me because of my shitty reputation as a wannabe player.” He felt like such a fucking pussy talking about this shit with his cousin Bennett, legendary Dominant.

Ben leaned forward. “I’m not judging you. Anything you tell me stays between us, okay? And it seems to me you need someone to talk to.”

“Probably.” Now that Rory was in the picture, he didn’t want to screw this up with her. “So I needed to rethink my entire approach to women, to sex, and what I wanted out of it. That’s why I went to the club a couple years later again.”

“So what did you learn about yourself?”

“I’m more tolerant than I believed I could be. Watchin’ some of those scenes just reinforced my stance that I’ll never use a flogger on a woman, or a whip, or a strap.” A shudder of revulsion rolled through him, though he tried like hell to repress it. “I doubt I’d even be interested in playful spanking.”

“Why not?”

Dalton shrugged. “Just not my thing.”

“That ain’t all of it, Dalton.” Then he pulled out the Dom voice. “Tell me.”

First time he’d heard that tone from Bennett. He sighed. “If I tell you, you gotta understand I’m not lookin’ for pity.”

“Now you’ve got me concerned.”

Where in the hell did he even start this? Better to just barf it out upfront. “Casper…used to beat me with a strap. Started when I was seven and ended after I got bigger than him. He did it in private and embarrassment kept me from telling anyone. Every time Casper lit into me with that leather, he recounted all the things wrong with me and what I’d done wrong, so it was physical and verbal abuse.”

Ben stayed quiet for several moments. “Christ, Dalton, is that why you freaked out when you saw me usin’ the whip on a member in the club?”

Dalton couldn’t meet Ben’s eyes. “Yeah. The only experience I had with any type of beating was forced, so I didn’t understand why someone would
want
to get whipped. Nor did I understand that not all people who wield the whip are sadistic bastards. I associated any hitting with shame and the strong preying on the weak.”