Acres, Natalie - Sex Club [Cowboy Sex 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (49 page)

“I was going to,” she said softly. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You could’ve saved me this,” she accused. She wheeled around on the heel of her boot and faced her ex once more. “If I ever see you here again, I’ll let my dads handle you. Between them and Patience’s fathers, I believe they can make you—” She swallowed hard and acted like she was too choked up to finish. Finally, she managed to end with, “I believe you’ll understand once and for all. I’m finished, Jason, and I don’t care what you do or who you do it with, but you won’t bring your women here and rub my nose in your indiscretions. Are we clear?”

“I love you, Kimberly. I know I’ve made some mistakes, but I do love you.”

“Love?” She grunted. “You can’t love. You can teach someone how to love, but you yourself can’t love. You never opened your heart to the concept.”

With that, she turned and walked away. She held her head up high and strutted like only a Cartwell woman could, proud and confident, sassy and unforgiving, which was her best trait at the moment.

“Kimberly!” Jason called after her and started to follow her through the kitchen. Thanks to Elliott approaching around the same time and Graham blocking his path, Jason didn’t make it very far.

Patience summonsed Baron, who quickly appeared, too. “Escort Mr. Neely to the door.”

“Mr. Neely?” Baron held his arm forward. “Will you follow me?”

“I know my way out!”

“That’s good to know,” Ansley muttered.

“Shut up, Ansley. You know nothing about me and your sister, and you’ll never know the first thing about love. You’re destined to be alone in this big old world for the rest of your life. And I can’t think of a person more deserving of their fate.”

“Coming from a man who spent the last decade alone? I’ll take those words to the bank, you know,” Ansley said, propping her hand on her hip.

Baron immediately dragged him toward the exit.

“Honey, don’t pay attention to him,” Graham said, walking behind the bar and locking his arms around her waist. “You know better.”

She closed her eyes and relaxed against him. “Yes I do.”

Elliott stood on the stool, leaned over the bar, and slapped her ass. “The two of you can do that later. We’re here to help you close up for the night. We’ve got big plans for you, babe.”

“I can hardly wait,” she said, stepping out of Patience’s way as she started the closing routine.

The music was still playing softly in the background. Ansley glanced at the clock on the wall. She was just about ready to call up front and tell the new DJ it was time to play the last song of the night when he tapped the microphone. The loud thump sounded like a malfunctioned sound check. “Ladies and gentlemen, as a special request tonight, we’re staying open for two more songs. Ansley Cartwell, this one is for you.”

“What the hell?” she grumbled.

The annoying disc jockey beat on the microphone again and said, “I was told to remind you. Women who argue are scolded properly.”

The crowd remaining began laughing. Heads turned toward her. Men looked at her with lust in their eyes while women wore an expression of obvious envy.

Her heart took off at a running go, pounding unevenly against her chest cavity. She searched Elliott and Graham’s faces. They looked dumbfounded. That could only mean one thing.

Tristan was there.

Ansley swallowed once. She scoured the club, excitedly searching for Tristan. Rushing away from the main bar, she hurried toward the dance floor. He had to be there somewhere. He’d returned for her because he’d realized he couldn’t live without her!

She slowly turned around in a complete circle.
Where are you, Tristan?

“May I have this dance?” Tristan asked, stepping away from a cluster of patrons.

“Tristan!” she screamed, jumping into his arms. “Oh my God. You’re here!”

His grin widened as he lifted her. Spinning her around, he asked, “Where else would I want to be tonight?”

“I don’t know! Oh God, I don’t know,” she rasped, hugging him tightly. “You’re where you belong now. That’s all I care about.” Locking her wrists around his neck, she showered him with kisses.

When her lips stopped skimming across his flesh, she breathed against his mouth and chin, nuzzling him. Panic rose inside her as her stomach fluttered with unsettling butterflies. “Tristan, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave without you.”

“You came home to me,” she said quietly, feeling as if she were on top of the world. “I was so afraid you’d—”

His mouth crashed over hers. Taking a searing kiss, he thrust his tongue between her lips. Their bodies moved in an erotic sway, a grind that was hot enough to sizzle every last one of her nerve endings. The crowd parted, as if to let them make their way to the dance floor’s center. Once there, he held her close as a new band’s song, “Baby You Move Me,” blared through the surround sound.

He’d just cupped the side of her face, splaying his fingers at her ear, when all the anxiety she’d held inside propelled forward. Taking a step back, she said, “Don’t you ever leave me again!” She smacked his chest. “I mean it, Tristan. I can’t take not knowing where you are or if you’ll come home to me.”

A baffled look washed across his face. “I was MIA for less than twenty-four hours, Ansley.”

“The day seemed like an eternity.”

“Yes, it did,” he admitted, pressing his forehead to hers as he tossed his arms over her shoulders and stared longingly into her eyes.

“Is it safe for you to be here now?” she asked, locking her arms around his waist and mashing her cheek against his chest. She wanted to hold him, breathe him in, and cherish this moment forever.

“For now,” he replied, tilting her face toward his. He kissed her then. His tongue traveled inside her mouth, slow and easy. The kiss he delivered was heavy with lust, loaded with desire, and quite possibly the most passionate she’d ever received. He pressed against her as the music enveloped them, became a part of them in a way she couldn’t explain.

Caught up in their reunion, she succumbed to the feelings of a chemistry-driven kind of love. She caressed his belly, raking her fingers under his belt, dragging them across the denim right underneath the top silver snap. After a second or two of teasing, she shoved her entire hand down his pants. Securing his cock, she pulled him through her closed fist, stroking him.

They were in the right club for exhibitionism but the wrong town, given the fact everyone knew her. Then again, Ansley didn’t care who saw the manner in which she responded to her Dom, the way she couldn’t wait to serve and please her man, her partner.

“Love me,” she whispered against his lips as the music resounded, the sexy beat of nearly obscene music thumping in her eardrums, pounding in her chest.

“Right here?” he asked, bumping his groin against her center.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered across his lips. “Please, Tristan. Please. Feel me. I want you to know how hot you make me, how much I missed you.”

They continued grinding against one another. Other couples groped and played, dancing the last of their night away. Ansley felt as if they were the only two people in the room. And even if they weren’t, she didn’t care if the entire world watched him love her.

He lifted her up, forcing her hand to glide upward. She gripped his shoulders and secured her legs behind him. He fiddled with her jeans, loosening them.

Her pussy clenched. She twitched against him as she contemplated the coming fulfillment, the way Tristan would satisfy her fantasies, disarm her curiosities.

The energy of the club consumed her. She was lost in Tristan’s arms, finding freedom in his body, and grinding against his belly until his fingers inched behind denim, dipping under her panties.

He pinched her pussy lips through the moist lace. A sharp pang of arousal shot through her folds and struck her cunt with a stroke of powerful electricity.

Ansley threw her head back, moaning. “Fuck me with your fingers,” she greedily ordered, forgetting who was in charge, which one of them stood out as the dominant party.

She may have been his submissive, but she needed him to understand how much she longed for his touch, his indecent caress. And she wanted him to know precisely what she had in mind.

“Ah, baby,” he said, watching her. “You’re so beautiful, Ansley.”

She draped herself around him, encircling him with her arms and legs as she rode the fingers he inserted between her folds. In a matter of seconds, she was climbing him, riding the firm digits he locked inside her cunt. She gripped his shoulders and enjoyed the feel of him, the exhibitionism only a very small part of the equation.

“You have to fuck me,” she breathed against his lips. “Please, Tristan.”

His fingers spread in a scissorlike motion, pumping inside her. “Soon,” he promised, studying her expression as his arm jerked underneath her.

“Harder,” she breathed. “Let me get off, Tristan. Please, Sir. Please.”

“Not yet.”

“Like hell!” she screamed, her walls clenching around those twitching digits. A ripple of gratification washed over her. As if he were helpless to do anything other than let her find her pleasure, he clutched her body against his hard form. His hand worked like a battery-operated toy, nonstop and destined to give a woman a guaranteed good time.

“There you go, gorgeous. Go ahead. Come for me,” Tristan crooned.

Her cunt vibrated. Her nipples tightened. She cried out, and he smothered her moans with his kiss. A breathless whisper fell against her chin as he released her. Kissing the top of her head, he asked, “Better?”

“Much,” she replied, feeling completely sated and terribly turned-on at the same time.

Bailey joined them then. “Hey, gorgeous.” He dropped a kiss on her neck, reached around her waist, and affixed her pants.

“Bailey!” she exclaimed, wiggling free of Tristan’s arms with full intentions of giving Bailey a warm and welcoming kiss.

“Stay where you are,” he told her, working to reassemble her clothing. “That was some show, doll.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she remarked, unable to keep from staring at Tristan, who was looking at her as if he’d loved her for over half his life. Her head was tucked under Bailey’s chin as he haphazardly zipped her jeans.

“If I were the two of you, I’d look decent as quickly as possible. The Cartwells are on their way over here—her mom is at the door. Her dads are already inside and headed this way, as a matter of fact.”

“Great,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t stop smiling. She was happy, satisfied, and so relieved her men were there with her.

Tristan snickered as his hand fell to his thigh. He raised his fingertips to his lips and sucked the digits between his lips. “I guess I’ll have to finish you later.”

“Let’s hope it’s behind closed doors!” Daddy Kane yelled over the music.

“Ah fuck, man,” Bailey fussed. “Did you have to do that?”

Ansley jerked. Even with Bailey’s warning, her father had broken through the crowd and still managed to catch them in a compromising situation.

To say her dad appeared angry was a slight understatement. He was enraged.

 
“Daddy Kane!” Ansley exclaimed. “What brings you out here?”

“My daughter,” he replied, glaring at Tristan.

Bailey reached around Ansley and extended his hand. “Mr. Cartwell. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too, Bailey,” he said, accepting the handshake.