Tempt Page 7

  But Trade had this expectant look on his face like I should go make conversion. Can’t blame his reasoning since I would nail any chick that moved pretty much.

  I see you go back to the kitchen.

  “Be right back,” I say and Trade nods. He and Quinn are back to flirting with each other, all entranced, so I duck out the front door quickly. I hustle around the side of the bar to the back door and let myself in. There’s a small hallway before hitting the kitchen. I peek around and see Cook off near the deep fryer, his back to me, watching the game.

  And you.

  Ten feet away getting plates and silverware wrapped and ready.

  Once last look at Cook to make sure he’s distracted…

  I grab your arm and yank you into the hallway, covering your mouth with my free hand just as you scream.

  You realize it’s me and I feel your teeth against my palm.

  A smile.

  I let my hand fall and you still smile up at me. Like I’m some damn hero.

  “I was wondering when you’d get me alone.” You run your finger along my jeans, right where my hard dick is pressing against them.

  “Now,” I say. “I need you now.”

  You nod excitedly and I open the back door and we slip out. But we don’t get far. I have you against the wall, the desert air hitting us and my mouth is on you.

  Your lips are like plump little grapes and I sink my teeth in, wanting to drown, die, right here. I need you so much that I can’t even register whether I’m rough or intent.

  Your claws are digging into my back. Your legs lifting and your hips grinding against mine. You want it too. You’re clawing to get to me. Good girl. I fucking love it.

  You shove your tongue in my mouth, deep and hard, like you’re trying to kill me with your mouth. Get everything I have. Well, go for it, baby, because everything I have is yours. For you.

  Your hands run in my hair and grab it, then begin moving down my back and pulling at my shirt. You lift it up just enough to kiss down my neck and bite my nipple.

  I hiss.

  I love the pain.

  Love the need in you.

  You’re still my sweet, innocent girl, but you’re wild just for me, aren’t you? Because I woke you up. I give you what you want. And you need it too, don’t you, baby?

  You take big bites of my chest, my torso. Eating me alive. I wrap my hand in your ponytail like I was imagining and yank you up. I want your mouth.

  I kiss you hard. Taste you deep. Your wet, sweet tongue sliding against mine gets my cock so hard I think I’ll burst through the seams. You try to move, to go back to my neck and down, but I gently jerk your hair, which is like reins in my hand.

  You gasp, your mouth open, you lock eyes on mine and smile.

  “You want control?” you ask softly. “Take me. However you want.”

  I will never get tired of hearing that.

  A hum breaks in my chest. I need you. Fast and hard and now.

  But I want to feel you, eat you.

  I can’t here. Not well and not how I want.

  I want you to come first. Because once I get in you, I’ll blow, and I know it.

  I lift your tank top enough to pull your perfect breast free and suck it hard.

  “Oh, God!” You throw your hips out. I know what you need, baby.

  I reach into your open jeans and slide my fingers along you. You’re dripping. I don’t waste time. We both need this. You’re desperate to come. I feel your need buzzing off of you. Your pretty pussy is crying it’s so needy.

  I slide two fingers into your tight cunt and you welcome me. A sigh escapes you. You’ve missed me. Needed me. Feel better with me in you.

  I know this.

  I have to know this.

  Because this is what I cling to when we’re apart.

  Your shoulders relax, but your grip on me is tight.

  I don’t have a lot of room to work with your jeans right here. So, I stay deep. I move my fingers to rub your g-spot while pressing my palm against your clit.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, Coe,” you say.

  I put my free hand against your mouth because you’re loud, baby. I love it, but I don’t want anyone to hear us. I don’t want to be interrupted with these few precious moments I have with you.

  Your screams against my palm vibrate and I feel it all over my body. I fuck your sweet cunt with my fingers. Staying deep and rubbing exactly how you like it. I nip your earlobe.

  “Come for me, baby.” I whisper.

  Your body tenses, flushes a degree hotter. I feel you against me, coming hard. Pulling me in, riding my hand. Then you slump, screaming as your cunt milks and squeezes my fingers, drenching me with your cream.

  A few more well-positioned flicks of my fingers and I get the last few surges of pleasure out of you.

  “I can’t wait, baby.”

  I open my belt and my jeans. You shimmy your jeans down and I lift your leg.

  I surge inside of you without another thought.

  “Coe, I love it…” you groan. The strangled words come out against my neck. Your breath is hitting me and I can feel my name leave your lips, hit my skin, and sink into my veins.

  It’s a spark that races from every nerve I have, soaking my blood with you. Your sweetness, your beauty…just you. All of you.

  Feeling you raw around my cock, wet and wanting, spins me into a kind of high no drug has ever gotten me to.

  Your hips move, grinding against me, trying to take me deeper. My cock hits your g-spot and you gasp. I know, because I feel it too. I know your body so well already. I know what you need. Know how deep you like it. How deep you can take it. And when you want to be pushed a litter further.

  And now is the time.

  I stay buried in you. Hot, wet paradise, then lay my palm against your inner knee and push your leg wider, forcing you to take more. Moving your leg from that small barrier left between us. You’re flexible, you can take it.

  Your eyes are locked on mine. Blue diamonds shining in the desert moonlight. I push you further, until the outside of your knee presses against the wall. You are spread wide. Your other leg holding you steady, my cock catching you and pinning you from the inside.

  I’m deep, baby, but I’m about to be a whole lot deeper.

  “Coe…” you say my name and it’s all I need. You want to know what will become of you? Want to know what will happen next? Just wait. Because I’m going deep…and hard.

  With you spread wide, I put my mouth against yours and whisper, “It’s never enough…”

  I thrust my hips up, taking you another inch deeper.

  You choke on a gasp.

  Your claws are digging into my shoulders. Hanging on for dear life.

  You should hold on because I meant what I said. This deep in you still isn’t enough; I want more, all the time. You. More. You. All the time.

  It’s a chant in my brain.

  I stir myself in you. Like a steel rod spinning cream. Deep and hard, like I promised.

  “Coe, you’re…you’re so deep. You’re in me…everywhere.” I know what you mean because I feel it too. Your sweet cunt may be squeezing my cock right now, but you’re everything. In my mind, my blood, my soul. I feel your name in my eardrums with every thump of my pulse. Your smell is seared into my senses.

  “Everywhere,” I agree. You’re everywhere. And I fucking love that I’m everywhere for you. In you. With you.

  You keep your leg wide open for me. Good girl. I skim my hand up your thigh and to your opening. I feel myself inside of you. Touch the base of my dick, a millimeter is all I can feel because the rest of me is inside you. You’re dripping down on me. Using two fingers, I spread your pussy lips and expose your clit. I surge hard, stay deep, and stir. Only this time, my pelvis is rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves at the same time.

  “Coe!” you scream my name and I kiss you hard to stifle it.

  Moaning against my kiss, you come hard around me. I feel each squeeze of you
milking my dick and I fucking lose it. I can’t hold back. I never had a chance.

  I want to stay deep. Need to. My balls draw up tight. I’m going to come. Hot fire shoots from my chest, straight to my skin and all I hear is my heartbeat.

  Somewhere in my foggy brain, I know I should pull out. I go to move away from you, but my need is too strong. Or maybe it’s the claws in my ass that you cling to me. Pulling me even deeper. That last millimeter disappearing into you to ride us both through our orgasm.

  I come hard.

  My dick twitching and moving with each slash of my come as it leaves me and coats your sweet pussy.

  I’ve never come inside another before without a condom.

  Never.

  And, my God, my life has changed forever. I love it. I love you…

  I squeeze my eyes tight. I couldn’t have just had that thought. Not love…

  You sway your hips gently, as if milking the last bit of pleasure from me. I give it up.

  Because I’m helpless against you.

  Completely fucking helpless.

  Chapter 6

  “Where the hell did you go?” Trade asks me as I take my seat at the table. The bar is still busy and you are likely in the kitchen, adjusting your clothes because I just fucked you outside of a bar.

  I run a hand through my hair. My skin feels hot, then cold. Like I’ve just taken a hit of the best drug and now don’t know how to regulate my own temperature. Not completely untrue.

  Trade smiles in a leering kind of way. “Ah…I noticed Tawny left too…”

  He thinks I nailed her outside. I didn’t.

  I nailed you.

  Only I’d never refer to it like that. Because the emotions that are getting attached to every time I’m inside of you are becoming a problem. Problem for my judgment. Problem for my lifestyle. I came inside of you.

  I know, I know.

  We talked about it last time. You’re cool with it. But this is new for me. Not just the fucking freely, but the trust. The trust you put in me. The trust I have in you.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with all that?

  It’s making my chest hurt.

  I take a drink of my stale soda and wish it had Jack in it.

  Because every moment with you leaves the aftermath of withdrawal. And like any good drug, I’m getting addicted fast and needing bigger doses to keep me stable longer.

  “She’s doing a good job,” Quinn says out of nowhere. I notice she’s looking at you. “Trade said you helped her get a job and she’s clearly a hard worker. Smart girl I hear too.”

  Jesus, this town really is a rumor mill.

  “And how did you hear all this?” I ask nicely.

  “Trade told me,” Quinn says.

  I glare at him.

  He shrugs. “Mic told me. Said you had a hard-on for this girl.”

  “I was trying to help her out. Her brother is in lockup because of us.”

  “Whoa,” Trade held up his hand. “Her piece of shit brother is in jail with our piece of shit cousin because they’re drug dealers. That has nothing to do with you.”

  Bullshit it doesn’t. Because the guilt weighs hard when I think of you and your grandma struggling.

  “It has nothing to do with her either.”

  Trade nods and mumbles something like, “This is why you’re the good brother,” and before I call him on it, he moves on, saying, “You can’t save everyone, and everyone is not yours to save.”

  I wanted to tell him I’m not trying to. That I could give a shit…but that’s not true. Because I do care. And I do have a hard-on for you. Only in more ways than what Trade is thinking right now.

  “I just gave her a good word to Mic, that’s it. She’s going to college soon, so a summer job isn’t a big deal.”

  “Hey, that’s all you need at eighteen, right?” Trade said and took a drink.

  “Eighteen?” Quinn about spit her drink out. “That girl is gorgeous; I would have never guessed she’s that young.”

  “Legal,” I mutter.

  “Still young,” Trade says. “Even for you.”

  I scoff, “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I just mean she’s a pretty girl and you’re popular around our little town here. Keep your eye on the prize and your dick dry with that one.”

  “Stop it,” Quinn says to Trade. “Coe is a decade older than her; she’s not even in the same ballpark as…” Quinn motioned to Tawny, who was back at the bar and still making eyes at me. Fuck my life. And now I have my brother and future sister-in-law talking about me like I’m not here, weighing in on your age and my age. Making me feel more like a shitty person with each second that passes. They don’t know I’ve crossed that line with you already, thank God. But Trade knows me well enough to know I do have a reputation and I love women and you’re gorgeous. So, it all adds up. And he’s calling me on it.

  I just don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. This needing you, then feeling like a shitheel for it.

  Because you are young. A fact I keep getting reminded of and it’s pissing me off.

  What the hell am I doing, Shay?

  I was about to tell Trade to fuck off with his questions when you come up behind me. Just like you did a few minutes ago. Before I took you out back and fucked you deep.

  “I have some fries and wings here,” you say, setting down the plates in the middle of the table. You lean near me to set the food down. A French fry falls on the ground as you put the overflowing basket on the table.

  You bend down to pick it up, or so I think, but while you’re hidden beneath the table, you slide something from your pocket and put it in my hand.

  Your panties.

  Your wet panties.

  You stand up and I glance at my lap, where my hands are, wrapped around the white lace with our come in them.

  Both of ours.

  “Anything else I can get you?”

  “Some ketchup, please?” Quinn asks nicely.

  “Of course.” You hurry off.

  Trade pops a fry into his mouth.

  I shove your panties in my pocket.

  “So, still nailing women behind the dumpster outside, huh?” Trade asks.

  “Excuse me?” your voice rings out from behind me. You’re back. And you hear my asshole brother’s remark. But he’s not talking about you, baby. My skin heats with worry, rage, and fear. I glance at your face and your pretty blue eyes look glossy. Your mouth slackens like you can’t believe what you just heard.

  You set the ketchup down on the table robotically.

  Shit! Fuck! Fuck, Trade!

  “Trade, watch your mouth,” Quinn chastises.

  “Sorry, Shay, I was just giving my brother shit about his ex.”

  You look confused, but you don’t look at me.

  “She’s not my ex. Tawny, that is. And shut up, Trade, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s all jumbled but it’s all I can say. All I can think to say. And it didn’t do a damn bit of good. I can tell by your face. You were happy, playful, a moment ago. Your panties in my pocket, a sign of pride for what we’d done. Now your face looks like stone. I hurt you. My past hurt you. My brother’s words have hurt you. And I hate it.

  You blink several times, then grab my cup of half-empty soda. “I’ll get you a refill,” you choke out.

  I want to tell you no.

  Tell you not to wait on me.

  Tell you that I’m sorry and this isn’t what you think. But I say none of that. Because you’re walking away. I watch you go to the soda machine and fill it up behind Mic. You never look at me. You walk back, set it down, and leave.

  Nothing.

  Once again, I’ve reduced us to nothing. And I didn’t even manage to say a damn thing this time.

  #

  Mic works until about two a.m. on weekend nights. The bar gets slower. She’ll send you home around midnight. She’ll close up with the other waitress. At least, that’s what I’m counting on. Because I’
m waiting in my truck for you. In the shadows like a damn creeper near the bar. I want to talk to you. To explain.

  I put your panties in the glove box. I see them in the dim light. Laying there like a lace heap amongst my mess. I shut the box and watch the front door. Waiting for you to come out.

  Finally, you do.

  You start walking. You can’t honestly be walking home? What is wrong with you, Shay? Don’t you know a woman like you shouldn’t be walking late at night by yourself? I was going to try to beat you to your car, but realized just then that you don’t have one.

  I rev the engine and turn on the headlights, pulling up right in front of you. I open the passenger door.

  “Get in,” I say.

  “No, thank you,” you snarl back.

  “Get in the truck, Shay.”

  You open your mouth to say something, but then decide against it. You glance around.

  “I’m not letting you walk home. It’s cold and dark. Get in. I want to talk to you anyway.”

  “Lucky me,” you mumble and get in the passenger seat. I peel out and drive off. Down the dark road.

  “Look, I never said anything about us. Trade was giving me shit for—”

  “Nailing women behind the dumpster of your sister’s bar, right?”

  I let out a breath. You are looking out your window. Not at me.

  “That’s your MO, isn’t it? Just take a woman and have sex with her whenever you feel like it, wherever you feel like it.”

  “No.” Yes. Kind of. You’re different, baby. What I’ve done has nothing to do with how I feel about you or the things I want to do with you—to you.

  “I don’t believe you,” you say softly. And those four words gut me.

  I turn down a side street, taking the long way to get you home.

  You’re right to not believe me and if I were a better man, I’d end this. Here and now. Be done, drop you off, let you live your life.

  I don’t do any of those things.

  “I have been with women without really caring about them,” I admit. For some reason it’s hard to swallow. Because you’re looking at me now. “I ah—yeah, I’ve had sex with a woman or two outside Mic’s bar. But not like tonight. It’s not like it is with you.”

  “Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically, then go back to looking out your window. “My panties were soaked with you. I had to take them off. I had to use paper towels in the ladies’ room to clean myself up! You…you’re still in me. I still feel it and I thought it was special, but it’s not. You do this with other women.”