Texas Tangle (11 page)

A warm glow started in her belly while knots grew in her throat. She blinked several times, trying to ignore the feeling. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Dillon. I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t lose me. Not now. Not later. I promise. You mean something to me, Nik. You always have.” His voice dropped a half octave on the last word. As if to seal the promise, he dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers, his breath a warm whisper across her cheek, an unseen caress. When she relaxed her jaw and parted her lips, his kiss grew stronger, his tongue softly sweeping into her mouth, exploring, testing.

His hand traced down her side, then slipped between her thighs, beneath her skirt. He slid one calloused finger between her labia, parting them, sliding beside her clit, but not touching it.

Wanting him to feel the same heat, she slid her hand between them and unzipped his jeans. The barrier between them removed, she wrapped her hand around his cock.

His hand closed around hers, stilling her. “You’re playin’ with fire you know, Nik.”

“I thought I was playin’ with you.”

“This isn’t playin’ we’re doing, Nik. I’m dead serious here. I want to get to know everything about you. From what you’re thinking about right now to what drives you crazy with need, even what makes you make that soft little moan you do right before you come.”

Geez, the man had a way of crawling into her chest and into her heart. If she stayed with him much longer, she’d lose it completely.
 
“So how come I can’t explore you?”

“Oh, you’ll have your chance, but right now it’s my turn.”

“What? Are you going to tie me up if I touch you?”

His grin slowly widened, and his eyes sparkled with humor. “If I have to.”

A thrill shot through her. Why did her heart do this little flip every time he grinned?

“Hmph, as if.” She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and teased his bulging head with her thumb.

Before she knew it, she found herself over his shoulder, the air jarred out of her lungs with every step he took through the kitchen and up the stairs. “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you not to doubt me.” He lowered her onto his bed. “Be a good girl, get your clothes off, then lie back and grab the headboard.”

Rolling her eyes, she did as he asked, watching him open a dresser drawer. Her heart did that little flippy thing again when he pulled out two ties and dangled them over her chest.

“You’re not really going to tie me up, are you?” Holy shit, why was her body reacting as if it was a good thing? Oh, yeah, because it had long been a fantasy to be tied to Dillon’s bed and at his mercy.

He hadn’t planned on tying her down, but now that she was on his bed, her legs sprawled open, he couldn’t resist. If nothing else, he’d find some way of distracting her from whatever had been bothering her downstairs. Something had happened. Maybe her parents had called and given her grief for still being in his house instead of moving back to hers? Whatever it was, he had to find some way to make her relax.

He twirled the end of the tie over her nipple, watching it bead. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I sorta have a hankering to use your reins to tie you up, but for now we can use these.”

“My reins?”

“Yup. Something about seeing you in leather makes me hard as a rock.”

Her gaze dropped to his groin. When she saw proof of his words her breath stuttered, and the artery beneath her ear betrayed how her heart raced. Fear? Or excitement?

“What do you think? Do you want to try a little bondage?”

“Yes. I’m willing to try anything with you, Dillon.” As if the husky quality to her voice didn’t betray her desire, she reached up and helped him bind her left wrist.

If this might distract her, he was willing to give it a shot. He wrapped the silk around her right wrist and then around one of the cannonballs of the headboard.

He stood back and frowned. Was he doing this right? “Too tight?”

“No.” Her eyes were wide, and her breathing had quickened. Wow, she was as turned on as he was. He’d been afraid she might think him a pervert.

Satisfied he could proceed uninterrupted, Dillon dipped his head to one pale nipple and tongued it, then blew on it until it was a hard point. “Let yourself go, Nik. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

He settled between her thighs, spreading them wide. Using his thumb to part her labia, he bent his head and swiped his tongue around her the hard bud of her clit. Her body shook beneath him, her hips lifting to meet his mouth. Dipping his head, he spent a long time licking her, enjoying her taste, watching her reactions so he could increase her pleasure. Once she was writhing beneath him, straining against her bonds, he inserted two fingers into her pussy and stroked deep inside. Her hips rotated with each stroke, and the little purr signaling she was about to come grew louder. She wasn’t going to last long if he kept this up, so he slowed his rhythm.

Hell,
he
wasn’t going to last long if he kept this up. His blood pounded in his ears, a primitive drumbeat forcing him on.

Her body tightening around his invading fingers, he pulled back to nuzzle her damp curls. The musky fragrance of her juices clinging to his chin and his upper lip were a heady elixir. He dragged his beard over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, marking her as his.

He returned to her swollen cleft, lapping her sweet honey, keeping her on the knife edge of orgasm.

“Dillon, please.” She lifted her head to stare down at him, her hair a corona of fire spreading across his pillow. Her hands clenched around the ties binding her to the headboard.

“All in good time.”

She arched up again, thrusting the taut bud into his mouth. He cupped her quivering pussy, her juices drenching him. His hips ground his cock into the mattress, his mind fighting his body’s need to bury himself deep inside her again.

“Dillon.” A demand, not a plea.

He captured her clit between his lips, lashing the swollen tissue with his tongue. He lifted his gaze from the beautiful dark pink folds to watch her as he thrust a third finger deep inside her tight channel. “Come for me, baby.”

He swiped his thumb across her pulsing clit. That’s all it took to force her to climax. Her voice sounded like she was about to cry, but then her body shuddered. The headboard creaked from the strain as she pulled on her bonds, and a look of bliss filled her eyes. Sensuous, uninhibited. His.

Before her orgasm died off, he’d wrapped his cock in a condom and sheathed himself to the balls in her slick pussy, the heated passage still rippling the remains of her orgasm.

She writhed beneath him, her hands wrapped around the ties binding her to the bed, pleading for him to take her hard and fast. While he missed having her hands on him, digging into his shoulders, clutching his ass, something dark inside roused, some cavemanlike instinct that reveled in being in control of her, being completely in charge of her pleasure.

The way her fingers dug into the silk bindings, the desperation in her voice, set his instincts aflame. He dipped his head to the curve of her neck and licked the salty taste of her sweat, her skin.

He withdrew slowly, then pressed in just as slowly. His eyes closed in ecstasy from the pressure as he buried himself in her to the hilt.

Another slow withdrawal, followed by a slow return. He felt the familiar warning at the base of his spine. He wasn’t going to last much longer, whether he went fast or slow.

“Dillon, please.” Desperation filled her voice. “I need you.”

How long had he wanted to hear her say that? Every day since he’d bought the land adjoining hers and had seen her riding along their shared fenceline. Longer. Since high school. Before she’d started dating that sorry-assed husband of hers. He’d let her get away once. Not again. If he had to leave her tied to his bed until she agreed, or wrap her in cotton wool to protect her, he’d do it.

“You want this?” His voice was gruff as he thrust into her and held still. Her body trembled around him, her pussy clenching and releasing. She was so close to coming, taking him with her, and him not moving a damned muscle. “You want me?”

“Yes. Please, Dillon. Move, damn it!”

He stole her breath by catching her bottom lip between his. Her eyes fluttered closed as he withdrew and thrust in again, filling her completely.

The sound of their flesh smacking together, of Nikki’s moans and his grunts each time his cock hit the end of her tight channel, filled the room. Everything else faded; his world reduced to the sensation of her pussy squeezing his cock, the feel of his sweat-covered body slipping over her soft skin, her gasps, his harsh breath. With a roar, he buried himself twice more before his balls completely tightened, and he pumped his release for what seemed like forever.

Midnight had long since come and gone when Brett let himself into his apartment. His shoulders loosened, as did the knot that had formed in his gut. It was stupid. He’d already driven by the Double Bar and saw Dillon’s truck parked out front and knew there’d be no one here. Yet he’d expected to find Dillon waiting for him, even braced himself to have a knock-down-drag-out.

Not that he’d done anything wrong. Yet. He hadn’t kissed Nikki, though he’d been less than a nanosecond away from giving in to temptation. So Dillon had no reason to beat him up again. But, shit, he’d come so close.

It damned near killed him trying to pretend he didn’t want to drag Nikki up to his room and make love to her night after night. To pretend he didn’t need her cuddling him in the darkest hours of the night when the nightmares hit.

He diverted to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, then padded into the living room. Stretched out on the couch, he pillowed his head with his arm and settled back with a sigh, using the television as his nightlight. He flipped around the channels, but gave up on finding anything good, so he switched on the DVD player.

Instead of paying attention to whatever the hell crap movie was playing, his mind drifted back to his
situation
. He’d almost blown it today. Considering Nikki was very definitely in a relationship with Dillon this time, if he’d moved that half inch, if he’d given in to his fantasy, he’d have found himself cast from the Barnett family permanently. After Dillon had kicked his ass from here to kingdom come.

He pounded his fist into the couch. What the hell had he been thinking, agreeing to stay at Dillon’s while Nik was there? Why the hell had he thought he could pretend he wasn’t still attracted to her?

He’d paved the goddamned road to hell with all his good intentions, hadn’t he?

The light from the television flickered over the ceiling as he stared at it. No matter how many times he replayed the afternoon, it still came back to him losing control, to him losing everything he cherished. His friendship with Dillon. His family.

He flung his hand over his eyes. While it shut out the light, it couldn’t stop the feeling of failure flooding him. He hadn’t even had the balls to stick around until Dillon had come home. No, he’d run off and left Nik all by herself.

Come on, if you’d stayed, you’d have had her naked and horizontal in another five minutes.

No. That would never have happened. She’d told him no. She wasn’t the type to fool around. She’d proven that all those years she was married to Wade. What made him think he could have changed her mind?

Stop your whimpering, you fuckin’ little bastard.

He tried to protect himself from the coming blow, but he couldn’t move one of his arms. Had he been tied up again? Pain exploded in his head as his father’s fist connected with his face. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he wanted to argue. He’d gotten home from school on time, just like he’d been told. He’d kept quiet. He’d done his homework.

Think you’re so fuckin’ good, don’t you, boy? Just like your mother
.

A blow to his stomach drove his breath from him. He gave up trying to stand and huddled in a ball on the floor, his working arm flung over his head trying to protect himself, like he’d done a hundred times before. Humming to himself didn’t drown out his father’s curses. Pretending he was at the rodeo on a bucking bronc didn’t ease the pain when his father hit him again and again and again.

I’ll show you who’s the man around here, you little shit.

The toe of his father’s boot pounded into his side, the pain excruciating, the crack of bone telling him he’d broken at least one rib. Another kick, another crack.
So hard to breathe. Hurt so bad
.

Brett opened his eyes to blackness, his breath ragged in his throat, afraid to shout and draw more of his father’s ire. Yet afraid if he didn’t call out, he’d be left in that darkness forever. Forgotten. Alone.
I’ll be good. I promise.

Wait, it was soft beneath him. The couch, not wooden planks. His apartment, not the shed.

Releasing a shaky breath, Brett sank back against the couch pillows. Sweat dripped down his forehead; his shirt clung to him in damp patches. Damn, it had been so long since he’d had one of those nightmares.

He grabbed the remote and switched the television to one of the incessant talk shows. At least this one had a good musical guest for once. In a futile attempt to distract himself from the memories, he turned up the sound while Brad Paisley sang about being a guy.

Surrendering to another night’s lost sleep, Brett headed back to the kitchen. He was just finishing the last of his second beer when someone pounded on his apartment door.

Dillon. It had to be. Who the fuck else would be awake at five-fucking-thirty in the fucking morning?

The door rattled on its hinges as a fist pounded it again.

“Come on, buddy, open up.”

Yup. Dillon.

He walked to the door, but before his hand touched the lock, he hesitated and rested his head on the jamb. All hope for happiness drained from him, as if someone had pulled a plug.

Get it over with
.

“Brett, open the door, will ya? Your car’s out in the parking lot, so I know you’re here.”