Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2) (13 page)

He might not be a dessert guy, but her mouth could get him addicted. “I want to be alone with you, Kim. To kiss you properly.”

“Kiss?” A smile flickered then she studied him intently. “I’m sober.”

“I hope that’s not a bad thing.”

“It means . . .” She bit her lip. “I’m not sure where I want tonight to go. I do want to kiss you . . .” That smile flickered again. “Properly? Hmm, improperly sounds more fun.”

“You bet it does.”

“But I’m not promising we’ll . . . you know. Is that okay?”

She was going to test his patience. But he sure as hell didn’t want to have sex with her unless she was ready. He took her hand and squeezed gently. “It’ll be up to you. I’m not the kind of guy who’d try to force a woman.”

Her intent expression relaxed. “No, I don’t think you are. Okay, let’s go to my studio.”

“Great. Where is it?”

“In Yaletown. It’s five or six blocks. Where’s your truck?”

“In a lot down the block.”

He hung on to her hand and they strolled along the sidewalk. Ty was aware of people glancing at them with curiosity. Was it his hat, her unusual top, or the unlikely couple they made? When he opened the passenger door of the ranch truck and helped her up, he thought how out of place he was. Just as out of place as she would be at Ronan Ranch. Two different worlds, two different futures. Weird, how attracted he was to her and how much he enjoyed her company.

She directed him on the short drive to Yaletown, then pointed to a nicely converted old brick warehouse five or six stories high. “That’s my building. There’s guest parking under it.” After using a fob to open the gate, she directed him to a narrow spot that hadn’t been designed with a ranch truck in mind.

He went around to open her door, caught her by the waist, and lifted her down. The front of her body slid along the front of his in a long, tantalizing caress that instantly made him hard.

She wriggled her pelvis against him like she couldn’t help herself, then pulled away.

The elevator picked up other people at ground level, so he kept his hands to himself. And, when Kim unlocked the door to her place and clicked on a light, curiosity kept him from tugging her straight into his arms. He glanced around.

When she’d said studio, he’d assumed artist’s studio. It did have an easel, a drafting table, and art supplies, but it was also her living space. There was a tiny kitchen, a table with a couple of chairs, and a semipartitioned area with a wardrobe and a double mattress on the floor. The duvet on the bed had an abstract design in yellow, orange, purple, and black, clearly Kim’s art. She’d fastened sketches and photographs to the brick walls, probably her own work as well. “Nice place.”

“I love it. I’d never had my own place before.” Sounding nervous, she went on. “See that big wall of windows? It lifts up like a garage door. I’ll crank it up; it’s a beautiful evening.” She’d slipped off her shoes and hurried away from him, barefooted.

He bent to take off his boots and socks, and tossed his hat on the kitchen counter.

Kim tugged on a lever. The windowed wall on the studio side of the apartment slid up to hang below the ceiling, revealing a balcony with a wrought-iron railing and a pot of vivid mixed geraniums.

“That’s cool.” He walked over. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her unit was on the alley side, facing the blank brick wall of another warehouse-type building. No windows over there, so no one could see into her place.

“I like things that are distinctive.”

“Ah,” he teased, “that’s why I’m here. A cowboy in Yaletown is pretty distinctive.”

“You, Ty, are pretty distinctive wherever you are. Even at a rodeo, you stand out.”

He stepped closer, and she didn’t move away. Testing, he rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned in for a kiss.

Thirteen

T
y got his answer when Kim went up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He clasped her firm butt in his big palms and tugged her into him until their bodies pressed together. And then he kissed her. Teasing her lips, savoring her slowly. As she warmed and loosened, he dipped inside to taste her chocolaty sweetness. The curves of her butt were taut under his grip. His heart raced and, behind his fly, his swollen cock demanded to be released.

Her response heated, so he stopped holding back. He let all the wanting, the buildup of the past hours—of the days and nights since Saturday—pour into that kiss.

She answered eagerly, showing that she wanted him just as badly. What could possibly be wrong with two people on fire for each other, just wanting some fun together?

“I’m glad I tracked you down,” he told her.

Huge dark eyes gazed up at him. “Why did you?”

“Couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

“Me either. I’ve been dreaming about you.”

“Me too. Sexy dreams.”

She nodded. “Yes, that kind.” Her gaze darted across the room, then back. “I dreamed about you in my bed.”

“Dreams do come true.”
Thank God.

He was about to haul her toward the bed when she stepped out onto the little balcony. Okay, she needed more seduction before they made it to bed.

Gazing up, she said, “You can hardly see the stars here.”

She really had a thing about stars.

He joined her. The air smelled pretty good for a city, but it didn’t carry the scents of hay and forest he enjoyed. The sky was murky. “You want stars? You should live on a ranch.”

Her cute nose wrinkled and she laughed. “Yeah, right. Not gonna happen, even if there are stars.” Quickly, she said, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just not my thing. I’d bet Hong Kong isn’t yours.”

He gave an involuntary shudder. “People, buildings, traffic all crowded into a tiny space? You got that right. Vancouver’s all the ‘city’ I can handle, then only in small, infrequent doses.”

“And I love it.” She rested her forearms on the balcony railing, angling her body so her curvy backside was aimed toward him. She had a graceful way of moving, like a dancer or athlete, and her body was so hot. “We sure are different,” she said.

Ty stepped up behind her and leaned forward, his hands on the railing on either side of her arms. “I know one way we’re compatible.”

She made an
mmm
sound and wriggled her butt against his erection.

He kissed her nape, trailing damp nibbles from her hairline to the neckline of her top.

She shivered, gave a sexy moan, and twisted her neck to give him better access.

Still kissing and nipping her exposed nape, he slid a hand under the bottom of her shirt, brushed the smooth skin of her rib cage, and moved up to cup her breast. She wore a bra, thin and lacy, and through it he felt the small, full curve of her breast. He teased her nipple until it tightened to a hard bud.

Her body arched so her backside thrust more firmly against him.

Bed would be great, but he had a better idea. He glanced around, confirming there were no windows across the way. On her own building, other small balconies jutted out but no one was on them. The alley below had a few parked cars, and another driving into the underground lot. He and Kim stood in the middle of a big city, but they were alone.

He slid his hand inside the front of her skintight leggings, caressing the silky skin of her stomach, toying with the side straps of what had to be a thong.

She drew in a quivery breath but didn’t object.

With the other hand, he tugged the leggings down until they pooled at her ankles.

She tensed. “Ty,” she whispered, “we should go inside.”

“Be daring,” he murmured against her ear. “No one can see us.”

He reached between their bodies to undo his leather belt and unfasten his black jeans, then they too fell. He peeled his underwear off, stepped out of his clothing, and kicked it aside.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at the view.” He hiked her tee up to her waist. A hot, candy pink thong framed the sweet curves of her butt. He wanted to lick down the center strap, all the way between her legs. But later, when they were in bed. Right now, the idea of having sex on her balcony was an incredible turn-on.

He stroked across the front of the thong, feeling firm flesh and soft curls underneath. Two fingers followed the fabric down, between her legs, where she was hot and damp.

She moaned and shifted position, trying to spread her legs but hobbled by her leggings.

He steadied her as she freed herself from them. Now he could stroke her through the crotch of her thong, sliding his hand back and forth as she pressed against him. He eased the fabric aside, needing to touch her sensitive flesh, the full folds, the steamy slit.

She was slick with arousal, yet small and tight when he eased one finger inside her. Her muscles caught it, then relaxed. He slid in farther, slowly and gently. Another finger, opening her, widening her. He pumped slowly in and out with both fingers as her head dropped forward, her breath coming in soft pants.

“Jesus, you’re sexy, Kim.” Bending to kiss her neck, he let his erection ride the pink line of her thong as it bisected her butt. He was big, and she was a tiny woman. He had to make sure she was ready, so he didn’t hurt her.

But patience was killing him. His cock ached with the need to thrust, his balls with the need to come. He nipped her neck and, still pumping his fingers in and out, caressed her clit with his thumb.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Oh, yes.” Her body pressed and wriggled, telegraphing the way she wanted to be touched.

He gave it to her until she clenched, moaned, and spasmed against his hand.

Bit by bit, her body relaxed and he held her steady, one arm around her waist, until she got her feet under her again. Head still bowed, she murmured, “I can’t believe we did that.”

“And now we’ll do this.” Body throbbing with urgency, he bent to find a condom in his jeans pocket, and rolled it on. She was short for what he had in mind, but he’d make this work. “Lean farther forward.”

When she did, he took her by the hips, tugging her back toward him so her backside was tilted up in invitation. He looped an arm around her waist, holding her steady, then slid the strip of thong aside. Gently, he opened her so the blunt head of his cock could nudge inside.

A tremor rippled through her and she lifted up on the balls of her feet, raising her butt higher, changing the angle so he could more easily slide into her moist channel.

He filled her, inch by inch, slow and steady even though his body urged him to thrust hard and deep. She softened around him, taking him in. When he finally let himself pump, her body hugged him with such a snug caress, the sensations were almost unbearably intense. Unbearably good and arousing. “Does this feel good?” he asked.

“So good.”

He pulled back a little so he could see the flex of muscles in her curvy butt, and watch his cock as it slipped out of her body then back in. His balls slapped gently against her with each thrust, and the need to come tightened them.

He wasn’t going to last long, and she couldn’t balance on the balls of her feet for long either. He reached around her and slid his hand between her thighs again. He tapped her clit gently with his finger, circled it, then, as she whimpered with need, caught it between his thumb and finger and teased it.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she panted, writhing against him.

He couldn’t hold back. The orgasm raced through him, poured out of him, and as it did he heard Kim’s sharp cry of pleasure mingle with his own groan of relief.

Through the blissful haze of release, he was dimly aware they were being too noisy. Kim would be embarrassed if someone caught them. He slid out of her, reached down to collect her discarded leggings, and tugged her away from the balcony rail.

As they moved back into the apartment, she stared at him, eyes wide and stunned. Slowly, her lips curved and her eyes sparkled. She let out a giggle, then another.

Relieved that she wasn’t upset, he laughed too. “That was pretty wild.”

“Crazy,” she said. “Wow. You bring out a side of me I didn’t even know I had.”

“What side’s that?”

“My inner dirty girl.” She sounded smug, and she had a right to be.

“I like that side.” He studied her: flushed face; T-shirt smoothed back down over her hips; bare, shapely legs. He’d told her she was special, and it was true. “I like all sides of you.”

* * *

T
alk about liking all sides of someone. When Ty tossed off his shirt and walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, Kim stared in fascination at his naked back. She’d been with Henry and two other lovers; she’d painted nude males in life drawing; but she’d never seen a man who was so big, so muscled, so utterly male. So sexy.

With him, she lost her mind. That was the only explanation for what they’d done on her balcony. It was, hands down, the most outrageous thing she’d ever done.

He returned, strolling toward her with an easy, athletic gait, his body rock solid and mouthwatering. Fascinated, she focused on his genitals, another part of his body that was definitely bigger than she’d seen before.

“I said I dreamed of you in my bed,” she commented, “not on my balcony. But I’ll be dreaming of that too, from now on.” And she’d draw him. From memory. Or . . . was there any possibility a rugged guy like him would agree to sit for her?

“Beds are good too.” He went to collect his jeans, took another condom from the pocket, and tossed it on the bedside table. He flicked the duvet aside to reveal yellow sheets she’d painted in a pattern that complimented the one on the duvet. “Cool. You made these?”

“Yes, thanks. Common Buckeye.”

“That’s a butterfly?”

She nodded, then dared to ask, “I’d like to paint you. Would you let me?”

He glanced at the bed again and said disbelievingly, “Paint butterflies all over me?”

A giggle spluttered out at the image that brought to mind. No, applying paint to his body wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but now that he mentioned it . . . Ooh, that could be so much fun! “Not butterflies. Nothing girly. Abstract, I think.”

“You’re serious.”

She could point out that he’d given her the idea, but decided to take credit for it. “You bet. Be daring, Ty.” She quoted his words back to him. “Lie down and get comfortable.”

“Won’t the paint ruin your sheets?” he asked hopefully, stretching out on the bed.

“I’ll use something that will wash out.” And that was nontoxic. Pity she didn’t have flavored body paint. Hmm
.
There was an idea for the future.

That thought gave her pause. What future? A future with Ty? Would she see him again? Would he want to? Would she? This kind of relationship—or casual sex, or whatever you’d call it—was so out of her experience.

She pulled out a box of children’s paints she’d used for a fun project with preschoolers. “What are your favorite colors?”

Stretched out, looking less comfortable and natural than usual, he said, “Blues and greens, I guess.”

“Outdoorsy colors.”

She’d focus on those, but also use fire-engine red and sunshine yellow for accent. No brush. If a dirty girl was going to play, she’d coat her bare fingers in paint and stroke them over his body. Adult finger painting. She’s soon loosen Ty up—and turn him on.

“If I let you do this,” he said, “there’s a condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to be naked too.”

The naked human form didn’t embarrass her, and she liked her body. Even though she didn’t have the generous curves a lot of men ogled, she knew Ty found her attractive. “I thought you’d never ask.” She collected rags to wipe her fingers between applications, sauntered over to the bed, and dropped her supplies on the sheet beside him. In one smooth motion, she pulled the tee over her head, then shed her bra and thong.

“Now there’s something that should be painted. Jesus, Kim, you’re beautiful.” His penis stirred and grew.

Her pussy gave a needy throb, tempting her to climb aboard and ride him the way she had on Saturday. But no, playing with paint and playing with Ty would ramp up their desire, their anticipation. How long would they last, and who would be the first to beg? Oh, yes, she liked her inner dirty girl.

Studying Ty’s strong, perfect body, she decided it called for boldness. She’d dive right in and leave her mark. The most basic mark, the one used by prehistoric cave painters and by kids with their first set of finger paints.

She applied red paint to her fingers and palms and kneeled with one leg on either side of his waist, for the moment avoiding touching his growing erection. Applying her hands to his upper chest, she pressed steadily, evenly. When she lifted her hands, he was decorated with two prints, adhering not just to his bronzed skin but to the scattering of light brown curls.

After wiping her hands on a rag, she smeared green paint onto two fingers and stroked double lines along his collarbone, then did the same to his ribs, tracing the firm bones.

He squirmed, his swollen penis pressing against her leg. “I like how you touch me.”

“I like touching you.” Using paint made her even more aware, more appreciative, of how beautifully he was put together. Appreciative as an artist, and as an aroused woman who wanted to press the sweet ache between her legs against his hard flesh. She resisted, wanting to prolong this intriguing foreplay.

Next, she chose vivid blue, sweeping paint on the bottom curve of his rock-hard pecs. Blending blue and green to make turquoise, she circled his nipples, making rings, until the hard peak of each nipple was a bull’s-eye.

He shivered. “Can I touch the artist?”

She gazed up, saw the hungry glow in his eyes, and summoned willpower. “Not yet. You’ll disturb my concentration.”

She chose yellow to blob onto his nipples and accent the green lines that highlighted his bones. “Now, I think it’s time to move below the waist.”

“Oh yeah.”

She slid down his body, letting the damp folds of her sex press against his penis—no, a dirty girl would call it his cock—for one long, tantalizing moment. She shuddered as need rippled through her.