By: Marie Force
Published by HTJB, Inc.
Copyright 2016. HTJB, Inc.
Cover Design: Kristina Brinton
E-book Layout: Holly Sullivan
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
MARIE FORCE is a registered trademark with the United States Patent & Trademark Office.
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you to fuck me.” I’m proud of the fact that I never blink as I stare into the baby blues of the man I just blatantly propositioned. In public, no less.
Blake Dempsey chokes on a mouthful of beer, his eyes watering as beer meets lungs in an unholy alliance.
For the first time since I walked into the dark, dank bar, my resolve begins to waver as I question the wisdom of this mission. But if I don’t take the bull by the horns, literally, I might never know why everyone else makes such a big freaking deal about sex. My best friend, Lauren, has assured me that our old friend Blake Dempsey is the answer to my “problem,” and she speaks from experience.
Tentatively, I pat him on the back, hoping to get him breathing again so we can get back to our conversation, such as it is. Let’s face it—he’s no use to me dead.
As he continues to hack beer out of his airway, people begin to take notice of us, which is the exact opposite of what I wanted. I’d planned to come into the dive bar where Blake has his end-of-the-day beer at exactly six thirty every night before heading home—alone—make my proposition and walk out of there with him.
I hadn’t counted on him choking on his beer or having the eyes of every man in the place on me as I wait for him to recover and give me an answer. What if he says no? Men never say no to Honey Carmichael, which is part of my problem. I have a reputation for attracting them like bees to… well, honey. But I’ve never been tempted to keep one of them, thus my well-earned reputation as a love ’em and leave ’em kind of gal, even if that’s never been my goal. No, I want one I can keep. Eventually. Until I find him, here I am with my hands on the bull’s horns.
My dear sweet Gran used to say it’s not my fault that I was blessed with thick honey-blonde hair, soulful brown eyes and breasts that have gotten me more attention than I ever wanted since high school. Not to mention the long legs that somehow manage to stay tanned year round and an ass that an ex-boyfriend once referred to as a work of art. I’ll never deny I’ve had more than my share of attention from men.
The one thing I’ve never had is a decent orgasm with a man, which is why I’m still alone at almost thirty. I’d rather be alone than settle for a man who doesn’t do it for me. But the curiosity about what I’ve been missing out on has brought me to tonight’s mission, which is beginning to feel ill-fated.
Blake finally quits sputtering long enough to look up at me with eyes still watery from coughing. “You wanna run that by me again?”
“You heard me right the first time.” I hold his steady gaze while trying not to give away my nervousness by fidgeting.
His steely blue eyes seem to look right through me, as if searching for the truth behind my blatant invitation. Despite the steel in his eyes, I also see sadness that makes me want to wrap my arms around him and tell him everything will be okay even if I have no way to be sure of that. Wishing I could make it better for him is the second reason I let Lauren talk me into propositioning him. As he runs his fingers through a short crop of dirty-blond hair, I can see his entire torso ripple with muscles under the tight T-shirt he wore to work.
My mouth waters at the thought of all those muscles wrapped around me. I lick my lips as my nipples stand up to take notice and my pussy clenches in anticipation. From what I’m told by a reliable source named Lauren, Blake has the biggest cock in town and knows how to use it. That thought causes the throbbing between my legs to intensify. When desperate times call for desperate measures, I believe in hiring the best man for the job. And these are most definitely desperate times.
“What brought this on?” His sexy drawl and the relaxed way he occupies the barstool belie the intensity of his stare. To look at him, filthy from a day of hard, physical labor, one might dismiss him as just another working man.
One would be mistaken.
Blake runs the most successful construction and renovation business in the area, and judging by his grimy appearance, he works as hard as the many men he employs. On him, the grime only makes him more appealing.
“Did you finally run out of guys to fuck in this town? No one left but me?”
I can’t deny that I’ve probably had a few too many one-night stands as I searched for the elusive
that has other women waxing poetic about the act. To me, it’s nothing special, two bodies coming together to expend some energy. Big deal. I’ve never understood what all the hoopla is about, a sentiment I recently shared with Lauren. After she finished laughing at me, Lauren said, “If you want to know what the hoopla is about, you need to fuck Blake Dempsey.”
Lauren ought to know. She was with him years ago and declared him an absolute
in bed. Lauren assures me that doing the deed with Blake will result in nonstop orgasms and pleasure unlike anything I can possibly imagine. “One night with him,” Lauren said, “and you won’t wonder anymore.”
“You wouldn’t care?” I asked my friend.
Lauren shrugged. “It was just sex between us. That’s all he’s capable of. Everyone knows that. A girl would be a fool to fall for him, so I took what I could get, and when it was over, it was over. It was a long time ago. Have at him and The Cock.”
Even though I’ve known Blake all my life and have never once considered him boyfriend material—mostly because my best friend had sex with him ages ago—I’m desperate enough to know what I’ve been missing out on to walk into a bar and utter a sentence that no doubt has my dear, sweet Gran rolling in her grave.
I can’t think about what Gran would have to say about me unashamedly propositioning a man. All I can think about since the conversation with Lauren a week ago are the words “machine” and “nonstop orgasms.” The best orgasms I’ve ever had are the ones I’ve given myself, thus my need for Blake and his legendary cock.
“Are you gonna answer the question?”
I snap out of the fog to realize I’ve been staring at him while he waits for me to answer him. “What was the question again?”
“Did you run out of other guys to fuck? Is it down to me?”
I hold back a wince at his judgmental tone. I’m not proud of the number of men I’ve test-driven, seeking the hoopla. “What do you care?”
“I don’t.” It’s a well-known fact that Blake Dempsey doesn’t care much about anything other than his family, his business, the people who work for him and a few select friends, of which I’m one, or I was until about five minutes ago anyway. He shrugs as he drains the beer bottle and puts it on the bar next to a ten-dollar bill. “It’s your business, not mine.”
When he stands to his full six-foot-three-inch height and looks down at me, I nearly swallow my tongue. My nipples stretch against the confines of my bra and tank top, as if they’re reaching for him. I hold my breath, waiting to see what he will do.
He brings his head down close to my ear. “Follow me home.” His tone is gruff and sexy and authoritative.
I shiver as my heated core weeps in anticipation. My eyes travel from broad shoulders to lean hips and below, where the outline of that legendary cock has me licking my lips once again. Soft, faded denim hugs him in all the right places, and it’s all I can do to refrain from reaching for the button and giving it a tug to get things started.
My mouth waters as I picture his big cock springing free of his clothes, ripe for my mouth, my pussy and anywhere else he chooses to put it.
, not with him. No way.
Once again I shake off the sexual stupor and force myself to meet his gaze. If thinking about sex with him gets me this hot, I can’t imagine what the actual deed might entail.
“Are you coming?”
Even though Lauren assured me he wouldn’t say no, I’m still insecure enough to be surprised that he accepted my offer.
Oh my God
, I’m really going to have sex with Blake Dempsey. Resting a hand on his sculpted chest, I say, “Oh yeah, I’ll be coming, and so will you, big boy.” The cocky statement, exactly what he expects from me, covers the quaking going on inside.
A throbbing pulse in his chiseled jaw is the only sign of emotion in his otherwise blank expression as he takes me by the hand and heads for the door.
Mindless of the prying eyes of the other customers, I scramble to keep up with his long-legged stride.
“Where’s your car?” he asks when we’re outside in the fading sunlight.
Heat from the long summer day rolls off the blacktop in scorching waves, but I shiver from the almost predatory way he looks at me. “There.” I point to my tiny silver car with the decal on the side hawking my photo studio.
“I’ll wait for you.” He drops my hand and stalks to his big black truck bearing his own company logo on the side. His long strides eat up the pavement. I watch him go, fascinated by the way his jeans hug his muscular ass. I can’t wait to see if his ass looks as good naked as it does in denim. Who am I kidding? It’ll look even better.
I order my quivering legs to
. They finally get the message, and I rush to my car, managing to drop my keys in the dusty dirt parking lot. I bend to get them and am scorched by awareness. As I stand up, I venture a glance at his truck and find him watching me intently, his entire focus on my ass. The quaking begins anew as I get into the car and fumble some more with the keys before managing to get the car started. At this rate, I’ll need an insane asylum before I ever get what I want from Blake.
His truck leaves a cloud of dust in its wake as he pulls out of the parking lot onto Highway 90, heading out of downtown Marfa, Texas. The sun is a ball of fire in the sky as I follow him at a safe distance. The last thing I need is to smash into his back end because I’m such a nervous fool. It’s not like I’ve never come on to a guy before. I have, once or twice. But even though we share mutual friends and have known each other forever, Blake has always been so remote and off-limits that it took all my courage to walk into that bar and say the line that Lauren and I rehearsed until I got it just right. My hands are trembling and sweaty as I reach for my phone.
“What’d he say?” Lauren asks when she picks up on the first ring.
“I’m following him home.”
“This is huge! He never takes women to his place.” Lauren lets out a shrill squeal. “I’m so jealous!”
Instantly alarmed, I swerve before I right the car. “You said you didn’t care!” I can’t lose Lauren, the closest thing to family I have left. “I’ll call it off right now if you don’t want me to go with him.”
“I’m not jealous about
. I’m jealous that you get to be with
I swallow hard. “It can’t be that different from all the others.”
Lauren’s dirty chuckle comes through the phone. “Oh, Honey… You have no idea what you’re in for. Tomorrow, when you’re walking bow-legged, remember I told you so.”
A bead of sweat slides down my backbone. Propping the phone between my ear and shoulder, I turn the AC on high and follow the black truck as it hangs a left onto Antelope Hills Road. “You always did exaggerate, Lo.”
Lauren snorts with laughter. “You’ll know soon enough that I’m
exaggerating. Call me in the morning. I want every single detail. In fact, if you could take notes, that’d be great.”
The unusual seriousness in Lauren’s voice puts me immediately on guard. “What?”
“Ever since your Gran died, you’ve been looking for a place to call home again. It’s not going to be with him. No matter what happens, don’t forget that. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
Blake’s story is well known around town. He blames himself for the car accident our senior year of high school that claimed the life of his girlfriend, Jordan Pullman, who was also a friend of mine and Lauren’s. The loss of Jordan rocked our entire class, but no one more so than Blake. Even after the police ruled that the accident was the fault of the other driver, Blake continued to blame himself. He’s kept his distance from people—especially women—ever since, throwing his considerable energy into his business. Occasionally, he takes a lover, but he never keeps her for more than a night.
My story is equally well known. Abandoned at the church when I was days old, Nora Carmichael, who never married, took me in and raised me as her own. Because Nora was in her early sixties when I came to live with her, I always called her “Gran.” She died ten years ago when I was only twenty, leaving me to fend for myself in an unforgiving world. I’ve done okay, all things considered, but it’s been a struggle.
“Call me in the morning?” Lauren says.
“Remember: only sex.”
“Did you use the ‘I want you to fuck me’ line?” Lauren asks. We debated a number of ice-breaking lines and settled on the most direct of the many choices.
“I need to try that one on Garrett.”
Poor Lauren has been lusting for years after Garrett McKinley, accountant to Blake’s company and most of the other businesses in town, including mine. “What’s stopping you?”