Carnal Ecstasy (2 page)

“I quit my job.”

It was said so softly he wasn’t sure he’d heard right, but the determined set of her jaw told him he had. “You quit?”

She blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I want something in my life that is all mine, that no one else has a say in. I’ve never had that kind of freedom and now that I’m out on my own, out from under my parents’

thumbs, I want it.”

Don’t ask, man. Please for the love of all that is twisted and dirty, don’t fucking ask.

“That’s all you want? Freedom?”

“No.”

FedEx was going to bust through the doors, package him up and send him straight to hell by ten the next morning for asking his next question and already knowing the answer. “What else do you want?”

“You.”

His dick throbbed at the one clearly spoken word. “You shouldn’t, Carrie. I’m not the kind of guy you need. I don’t do good girls,” which was a huge lie, “and you are 10

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one. I don’t do tears either unless they’re the kind that come from me spanking the shit out of you or the kind that come from you begging me to stop fucking your ass so hard.”

As he spoke, shock widened her eyes, her mouth formed a little “O” and her cheeks turned a delectable shade of dark pink, much like the shade he imagined her pale butt would turn. She balled her hands into fists against the bar then flattened them out, pressing down until the tips were white. Had that finally gotten through to her? Had he finally said the right thing to get her to leave?

“Well, okay.”

Her body relaxed and she dropped her hands and her gaze to her lap. Yes, she got it. Dallon breathed a sigh of frustrated relief and ignored the pinch of disappointment.

He wasn’t right for her. She was too clean for him and his rough, kinky ways.

Then she spoke, and at first it was hard to hear her, but as she went on, her voice grew louder with anger and her eyes shot daggers at him when she looked back up.

“It’s not up to you to decide what kind of guy I need. If you don’t want me, if I’m not the kind of woman that you…that you ‘do’, that’s one thing, but don’t tell me what I do and don’t need. I’ve had enough of that in my life. I can make my own choices, my own decisions.”

Dallon smiled. His little innocent had spunk. He’d never expected it, but he damn sure liked it. If she wasn’t going to take his hints or his outright telling her to go, he wouldn’t fight it anymore. “Okay. I won’t tell you what you need. At least not when it comes to this. And I do want you, I just don’t want you to have any regrets after. I might be a bastard, but I don’t want you hurt when I don’t turn out all sweet and tender with you. That’s not me.”

“Oh. Good. That you want me too, I mean.”

Now she was looking everywhere but at him and he had to bite back a laugh. She was going to be more fun than he’d first imagined, what with the sparks she’d already fired at him. Oh, he knew sure enough that he should still walk away, that he should try 11

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harder to convince her he was bad news, but he wasn’t going to. The woman said she wanted him and he was just bad enough he was going to let her have him.

He took the beer from in front of her and poured it down the sink.

“Why are you doing that?”

“I want you sober and I don’t know how much you can handle. So, best not to find out tonight.”

“Okay.”

“A little nervous now?” he asked as he walked around the end of the bar and over to the door. He flipped the locks into place and turned off the lights in the main room.

Behind the bar area was still lit, but not for long if he had his way. Much as he wanted to see her naked and spread on the dark wood, he wanted to see her, smell her, taste her, fuck her in his bed this time.

“No. I want this. No sense being nervous or uncertain after putting myself in this position.”

She was acting for all the world as if she was nervous, but she’d already put him in his place for telling her what she did and didn’t want, need or feel. She would be a hellcat once out of the shell that cloaked her.

Measured steps took Dallon in her direction until he stood in front of her. He reached out and brushed at the hair that curled around her face. “What were you going to be doing at the college?” He asked the question as he wedged himself quite easily between her knees. If he bent his own just slightly and pushed his hips forward…

Instead he just continued to touch her hair, watching as the soft waves wrapped themselves around his fingers. He might have said he wouldn’t be tender, but damn, she had conflicting effects on him.

“I was going to be an events and public relations coordinator. My father secured the position for me and the apartment. I’ve only been here a couple of days.”

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Too many people tried to rule over too many others’ lives. Dallon knew exactly what that was like. “Tell me more of what made you quit.”

“You. I told you that. And freedom to be my own person.”

The pulse in her throat throbbed a bit harder and he pressed his thumb lightly against it. He liked knowing he affected her so much. “And I told you to tell me more, about either, I don’t care.”

“I want you. I’ve never wanted a man like this before. I’m not even sure I’ve ever really wanted a man.”

Was she a closet lesbian? “Explain.”

“I just meant no man has ever…I mean, I’ve not dated much or been around too many men.” She pressed her lips together then let out a breath. “I’m not explaining it right. I’ve been with guys, in college, but it was only to try, to experiment with sex. I didn’t have much free time between volunteering, a full class schedule and tutoring for a little extra money that I could call my own. I can’t really say I wanted those boys. And if I did, it was definitely not like this.”

“I think I understand what you’re saying. Why me?” His fingers drifted down her throat to her collarbone. Both hands slid down her shoulders and arms to her hands.

Lifting them, he placed them on his hips. She was hesitant for a second but then he felt her fingers tug and pull at his belt loops. Heat wormed its way from his chest down to his crotch.

“Why not you?”

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Her gaze never wavered from his. She was the only woman he could remember who ever kept her eyes locked on his. She didn’t look away. She was blushing, but she didn’t look away and she didn’t drop her hands. It was very hot, sexy, like a little aphrodisiac.

“You little tease.”

The blush deepened at his words, but still she looked at him, her gaze unwavering.

What would those eyes be like when she orgasmed for him, when he orgasmed inside her, on her, over her tongue?

“Why? Because I like the way you talk. You say what you mean. You don’t try to hide behind other words.”

“No, I don’t. There’s no need or reason to. You’re brave enough to look me in the eye, to walk into my bar and tell me what you want. I won’t insult you by beating around the bush about what I want.”

Again her fingers tightened and tugged on the belt loops of his jeans. “Thank you, Dallon.”

And he loved the way his name sounded on her lips. So much so, he leaned forward and tasted those lips. Strawberry lip gloss and beer. He didn’t press, didn’t pressure, but waited for her, waited to see what she would do. He didn’t have to wait long before her tongue took a shy lick of his lips. When he licked hers back, he again waited. Her next move slid her tongue into this mouth, testing the edges of his teeth and the roof of his mouth.

A small groan escaped at her slow exploration. He was on fire but didn’t let her know it, simply returned her thorough quest. She lifted her head away from his but the separation only lasted for a second and her mouth crashed down on his.

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It was all-consuming, unpracticed, lacking finesse, and the hottest fucking kiss he’d ever had. Her tongue was everywhere in his mouth. Teeth clicked together, and she pulled him closer, closer until he was pressed so tight between her thighs… He nipped at her tongue, and when it retreated back into her mouth, he lifted his head.

“You bit me.”

Dallon grinned. “You’ll know when I bite you and that wasn’t it.”

“Oh. Why did you stop kissing me?”

He took two steps backward, and instead of letting go, she followed him until she was standing. “Because if I hadn’t I’d be fucking you on the barstool.”

“You like talking like that, don’t you?”

“Like what?”

“Cursing?”

“When it comes to sex, yes. And when it comes to you, I have a feeling I’ll be cursing a hell of a lot more.”

She closed the few inches of distance between them. “Why?”

“You’re a good girl, Carrie.”

“Make me a bad girl then. I want it. Please. What do I have to do? How do I convince you to take me seriously? I don’t want easy or sweet.”

What
did
she have to do? She’d offered herself more than once, and despite his saying he accepted it and would give her what she wanted, he was still pussyfooting around the subject. Shit. She was ready to put up, put out, and he was being a gentleman about it. “Strip.”

“Strip? As in take my clothes off? Here in the bar?”

“Yes.” He stepped back again and took a seat at a nearby table, crossing one booted foot over his knee.

Her fingers went immediately to the buttons on her white blouse and, one by one, she slipped the small circles through their loops. Creamy skin, plump breasts and a 15

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slightly rounded belly came into view. The size of woman he took to bed didn’t matter to him. He’d taken anorexic women as well as those who were considered full-figured or plus-sized. The women hadn’t held more than his cock’s attention and after sex, someone left and life went on. What mattered more than the size of her hips was how kinky and dirty the woman was. This one though, this squeaky-clean one, fuck, had his complete and total attention, and unless she really hated sex once she had it, she wouldn’t be leaving his bed anytime in the next couple of days.

She pulled the ends of the shirt from the confines of her skirt and slipped it off her shoulders, down her arms, and dropped it on the floor at her feet.

Her tits hid behind white lace. The bra was beautiful, sexy. When she would have reached back to unhook it, he stopped her. “Leave it on.”

“O-okay.”

“Good girl. The skirt next.” He was going to have to adjust the baseball bat in his jeans or undo them and let it out.

Carrie lowered her hands to her waist and tugged a button from the side of her skirt and unzipped the zipper he hadn’t known was there. The black material fell to the floor without further assistance and it was all he could do not to gasp, groan and curse a blue streak. She wore white lace panties that matched her bra and hid nothing. Black thigh-high stockings with white lace tops hugged her legs, and she wore the same black serviceable pumps she’d had on earlier at the store. Something about her was more evocative than had she been runway thin and in six-inch stilettos.

He lowered his foot to the floor and spread his legs. He crooked his finger at her.

“Come here.”

Without hesitation she came to stand between his open thighs. “Do you normally wear lace like this?” He emphasized his words by fingering the edges of the bra cups.

Her skin was softer than silk and completely blemish free. He’d have to take care of that. Couldn’t wait to take care of it, in fact. How would she feel, carrying his marks on 16

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her body? Would she hate seeing the evidence of what she’d done with him come morning light or would she crave more? They’d be finding out soon enough.

“No.”

“So, you weren’t wearing these when we met earlier this afternoon?”

“No. I went home after I quit the college and changed.”

“Naughty girl.”

“Do…do you like that?”

His hands skimmed over the fullness of her breasts and the nipples pebbled beneath the lace, poking against his palms. “Do I like what?”

“Naughty girls.”

He leaned forward and placed a kiss over one of her nipples and felt her tremble at the light caress. “Love them.” Sitting back, he drew his fingers down her sides and danced them over her stomach. It trembled too. “Naughty girls are sexy, but taking a girl like you,” he slid a hand down the lace to cup her pussy through it, “and turning her into a naughty one is even sexier.” She moaned when he squeezed her mound.

“You trim your hair here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He kept rubbing and squeezing, loving the feel of the lace as it began to dampen.

“I read somewhere that men like it that way.”

What else had she read? And where had she read it at? “Read somewhere?

Interesting. I like it shaved, personally. Maybe we’ll do that tonight and see if you like it too.”

Dallon stood and gripped her ass in both hands, pulled her flush against his body and ground his harder-than-steel cock into her belly. She fit him nicely, her lushness soft, welcoming, giving, but she was going to be tighter than tight inside. Just the thought made him squeeze her cheeks and rub himself into her just for the friction.

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Damn. As he thought about having to pass the pool tables to get to the steps that led to his apartment over the bar, he wondered if he’d be able to make it without laying her out on the green felt and climbing on top of her. Pool cues would be fun.

Shit, he just needed to be inside her.

He turned her around and spoke into the crook of her shoulder, licking the sensitive skin. “You want to be naughty, well, naughty willingly and eagerly opens her thighs.

Over to the pool table.” The words were out of his mouth before he could call them back. He wouldn’t regret them.

He nudged her with a light swat on the ass. She walked away, her ample ass and hips swaying with a seductiveness she couldn’t have known she possessed. It wasn’t practiced or rehearsed, just naturally her. He’d noticed it when she’d walked away from his truck earlier in the day, but in only lace now, it was more pronounced, a more definitive kick in the gut.