Red-Hot Texas Nights (11 page)

A terrible end to a terrible man.

Right?

The question haunted her until she gave up trying to sleep and finally climbed out of bed. She curled up on the old vinyl couch in the living room and fired up the ancient console TV, a throwback to Christmas ages ago when she'd been just seven and her dad had brought home the cherrywood console as a surprise for her mother.

Brandy could still see the smile on her mother's face, the kiss she'd planted on her husband's lips. She'd been so thankful. So happy.

Most of the time, Brandy reminded herself.

But there had been those weak moments. The unhappiness. The longing. The regret.

Because she'd married too young and given up a promising career.

Not this girl.

Not now. Not ever.

Brandy held tight to the notion as she reached for the remote and pulled up a rerun of
Ace of Cakes
. But even that wasn't enough to ease the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. The only thing that did that was the image of Tyler McCall that rushed into her head when a particularly extravagant wedding cake topped with an exact likeness of the bride and groom filled the screen.

The figurine wore a cowboy hat and suddenly she saw Tyler wearing nothing but his hat tipped low and an expression that said he wanted her. Now.

Her lips tingled and her stomach hollowed out, and try as she might, she couldn't seem to shake the crazy reaction. Not after two more episodes and a cold shower.

Because there was only one thing that could get him off her mind.

Anticipation coiled through her and need vibrated along her nerve endings. She glanced at the clock. It was half past midnight. Late for her, but early for most of the other folks in town when it came to a Saturday night. Was Tyler still out? Was he asleep? Awake? Restless?

There was only one way to find out.

 

CHAPTER 13

Tyler blinked, but Brandy didn't fade and disappear the way she did in his fantasies.

Because this wasn't a fantasy.

She'd come knocking on his door again, searching him out, fanning the flames that already blazed so fiercely between them.

And it didn't matter that he was tired or worried or frustrated to the point that he wanted to put his fist through a wall. Nothing mattered but this.

Her.

She sat astride him, her skin pale and silky in the moonlight that drifted through the parted curtains and bathed the room in a celestial glow. She shimmied her body and hiked her sundress to her waist to free her legs. With the material out of her way, she spread wider and settled more fully over him.

She wasn't wearing any underwear.

He'd known that the moment he'd opened the door and she'd pushed him back inside, to the edge of the bed. She'd lifted the hem and just like that, she'd been on top of him.

Her bare sex rested atop his cock that throbbed beneath his jeans. She gripped his shoulders, stared deep into his eyes, and rubbed herself against his length. Side to side. Back and forth.

She flung her head back and went wild for the next few moments and it was all he could do not to touch her smooth thighs or knead her sweet, round ass or slide his fingers into her wet heat.

But Tyler had been waiting for this moment all damn day and he wasn't about to have it over with as quickly as it had been last night. He balled his hands into fists and let her have her fun.

“This feels so good,” she murmured, her voice low and breathless and oh, so stirring. The sound prickled the hair on the back of his neck and sent an echoing vibration along his nerve endings.

“Damn straight,” he managed, his own voice thick and raw and … Christ, but she felt amazing.

But for all her boldness, there was a hesitancy. As if she wasn't as sure of herself as she should have been with that face and that body.

She wasn't, and the realization eased some of the tension knotting his stomach. He knew then that Brandy hadn't spent the past two years warming the sheets with another man. She'd waited for this. For him.

“I missed you,” he murmured, the words little more than a growl of appreciation at what she was doing to him with each slide and shimmy and … holy
shit
. He clamped his lips as a hiss worked past them and then the movement stopped.

“Really?” she breathed as her entire body went still. “You really missed me?”

“You bet your sweet ass.” His words reassured her and she smiled, a brilliant slash of white in the darkness of the room. “And it is a sweet ass. The sweetest.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she murmured, her smile fading into something more primitive and possessive and daring.

She wanted him to step up, to tell her that she was wrong. That she was his.

The thought stalled in his brain for a long, fierce moment before she moved again. That's all it took to effectively distract him from reality. Everything scrambled into a furious swirl of pure, raw need and he stopped thinking altogether.

She kept riding him, rubbing herself up and down, creating a delicious friction before she finally leaned back. Soft fingertips reached for the waistband of his jeans. He was already so hard that the zipper caught and refused to budge.

“Easy,” he murmured, catching her hand with his.

He lifted his pelvis and guided her hand down, helping her work the zipper the rest of the way. Pushing his jeans down, he caught his underwear along with it and stripped both free until his erection sprang thick and heavy toward her.

Her touch was sure and purposeful as she reached out. One fingertip traced a throbbing vein up his rock-hard length, pausing just shy of the silky-smooth head.

Not because she was hesitant again. Hell, no.

She knew exactly what she was doing. Exactly how to drive him crazy. That's what he loved about her. There was nothing tentative about Brandy Tucker when it came to the sex itself.

Even that first time, she'd been bold, provocative, erotic despite being naive. A woman who had no problem taking pleasure.

Or giving it.

She'd embodied every wild thing ever written about her on the bathroom wall and then some. A bad girl in every sense of the word, and he'd been the lucky man to touch her first.

To touch her, period, a voice whispered. A crazy-ass voice because no way was he fool enough to think that while she might have held off for the past two years, that it meant anything. That she'd waited because he was the only man for her.

The first.

The last.

Right.

But he was the only man at this moment, and so he meant to make it count.

*   *   *

Contrary to the back stall of the boy's first-floor restroom at Rebel High, Brandy had never been all that mesmerized by the male member.

Until Tyler McCall.

Bold and beautiful, his penis jutted tall, throbbing beneath her steady touch. She caught her bottom lip, barely resisting the urge to lean down and lick the engorged purple head. Instead, she circled the underside with a trembling finger and watched him suck in a breath.

The sound fed her confidence and she wrapped her hand around him. Heat scorched her fingertips and he arched into her grasp. Still he didn't touch her with his strong hands.

Instead, he waited.

She didn't waste even a second in taking the lead.

Her gaze trailed up over a ridged abdomen, a broad chest sprinkled with dark, silky hair, a corded neck, to the chiseled perfection of his face partially hidden in the shadow of his cowboy hat. It was her latest fantasy come to life, and heat rushed through her.

She took his hat off, set it aside, and stared deep into his bright-aquamarine eyes. There was no mistaking the raw, aching need that gripped him.

“I wasn't sure if you would show up tonight.”

“Me either, but then I started thinking and it seemed like such a shame to waste this.” She touched the ridge of his penis, just a gentle sweep of her fingertip but enough to make him shudder.

“I'm glad you came,” he murmured.

“But I haven't,” she said, stroking him again. “Come, that is. And neither have you. Not yet.”

The words seemed to feed something dark and primitive inside him. Before she could draw another breath, his mouth covered hers and his tongue thrust between her parted lips. The kiss seemed to go on forever and when he finally pulled away, Brandy couldn't seem to catch her breath.

She fought for air while he reached down into the pocket of his jeans and retrieved a foil packet. A few seconds later, he slid the condom onto his erection, gripped her waist, and pulled her closer.

He pressed his hard sex between her legs. The plump head pushed into her a delicious inch until she felt her body pulse around the top of his thick shaft. She felt the wetness between her legs, drenching him and making the connection that much hotter.

A shiver ripped through her and she slid her hands around his neck. Her fingers plunged into his hair. Her nipples tightened, pressing against the thin material of her sundress, and her thighs trembled.

He kissed her slowly, deeply, before he finally drew away. His heated gaze held hers as he lifted her hips again, pushing into her a fraction more. But it wasn't enough.

That's the way it always was with him. He gave a little, but she wanted more. She always wanted more. Harder. Faster.
Now.

Bracing her hands against his chest, she climbed to her feet. She backed up just a few steps and reached for the edge of her dress. Bunching the hem, she pulled it up and over her head. Her nipples hardened against the sudden rush of cold air from the window unit blasting nearby and she trembled.

As soon as the chill hit her, it slipped away as Tyler's gaze swept the length of her. Fire flared in his eyes, warming her skin and sending a flush through her body.

“You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Brandy Tucker.” It was a compliment she'd heard many, many times. But there was something different about the way he said it. As if he really and truly meant it.

Duh.

He thinks you're super hot and you think he's sexy as sin. Otherwise you wouldn't be here getting naked together.

Still …

She watched as he stood and shed his jeans completely. He settled back down on the edge of the bed and motioned for her.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, his voice raw and husky and oh, so stirring.

Anticipation rippled through her and every nerve in her body tingled. She straddled him again, her knees and calves cushioned by the soft mattress.

She slid the swollen bud of her clitoris against his engorged penis until she reached the head. She rubbed from side to side, feeling him pulse against her most tender spot. She gasped when his teeth caught one nipple and he closed his lips over the sensitive peak. He drew her deep into his mouth and sucked so hard that she felt the tug between her legs.

She moved a fraction higher and pressed the wet opening of her body over the head of his erection. His hold on her nipple broke as a ragged gasp escaped his lips. She pushed down slightly, letting him stretch her, fill her, just enough to make her insides tighten.

And then she stalled, determined to stop at that exact moment and relish the sweet pressure that tightened.

He bucked beneath her and she did it again, pushing down just enough to make her body crave more before pulling back and gasping for air. His hands slid down her back and his large fingers pressed into her bottom as if to pull her back down. But he didn't. He wanted her to take it at her own pace.

Sweet and slow. Or hard and fast.

She kissed him then, sucking at his tongue the way her body grasped at the head of his erection.

Over and over.

His muscles bunched tight beneath her fingertips, his body hard and stiff, until she knew he couldn't take any more.

With a shudder, she slid down over him until she felt the base of his shaft fully against her. The soft silk of his pubic hair teased the sensitive lips of her vagina. He sat there inside of her for a long, heart-stopping moment before the sensation seemed to overwhelm him and he had to move. He gripped her bottom with both hands and his hips lifted.

He slid deeper. The sensation of being stretched and filled by the raw strength of him stalled the air in her lungs.

The pressure between her legs was razor-sharp and oh, so sweet. But not half as sharp and sweet as the sudden tightening in her chest when he looked at her, his gaze so fierce and possessive, as if two years had been way too long and he never meant to let her go again.

As if.

He would let her go. He always did.

That's what a booty call was. Here today. Gone tomorrow.
Temporary.

She held tight to the notion and shifted her attention to the desire coiling tight in her body. She rocked her hips, riding him with an intensity that made her heart pound and her body throb and her brain short-circuit.

She held tight to her senses for as long as possible, determined to memorize every movement and brand his every expression into her brain. Until sensation gripped her, so wild and tantalizing that her breath stalled and her heart all but stopped beating. She couldn't help herself. While she wanted to watch, the only thing she seemed capable of in that next instant was feeling.

Her eyes closed.

Her head fell back.

Strong arms anchored her tight as he pushed her down hard on his throbbing erection. Tight. Until her body released a warm, sucking rush of moisture.

His deep groan vibrated the air as his strong fingers clasped her bottom. He bucked beneath her and the muscles in his neck went tight. Once. Twice. His erection pushed deep one final time and he exploded.

She collapsed against him, her head in the curve of his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. His arms tightened around her and he simply held her then, stroking her back and her bottom as her heart slowly returned to normal.