Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders) (21 page)

“Dalton? We wondered if you got lost,” Tell said.

He froze. Then he lifted his head and quickly said, “We weren’t doin’ nothin’ in here, just ah…talkin’.”

“Guilty acting much, McKay?” she whispered.

“Hush,” he hissed in her ear.

Tell said, “Thought you oughta know Mom’s dishing up dessert.”

“We’ll be right there.” Dalton covered Rory’s mouth with his and kissed her hungrily. Between kisses he murmured, “Want you. So fucking much. Seems like days since I’ve touched you and I know it’s only been hours. When I get you home…get you alone…it’s gonna be fast, too damn fast but I won’t be able to help myself.”

Rory rested her cheek against his neck, holding onto him, wondering if he realized he was the one shaking. In that moment she knew why he’d insisted on going slow last night. To prove to himself—not to her—that he could. “You weren’t kidding when you warned me you’d be fixated on this.”

“On you,” he corrected. His mouth—his hands never stopped moving on her. “Does that worry you?”

“Only that we’ll run out of condoms. But I am on the pill.”

“Aurora, please don’t be flip. This kept me up last night.”

That set off her warning bells. Her plan to enjoy the perks of Dalton McKay’s sexpertise, while keeping some distance and perspective, was failing miserably, given the fact she’d barely left his side in the last twenty-four hours and she’d dined with his family. She needed to set boundaries from the start and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. “Really? I slept like the dead.” She disentangled herself from him and smiled. “You’ll be able to catch up on sleep tonight since I won’t be there to distract you.”

Dalton’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talkin’ about? Aren’t you spending the night with me?”

“No.” She playfully pecked him on the lips. “Oh, don’t pout, McKay. I brought work home that I have to finish before Monday so I swear I won’t be having fun without you.”

“I will see you tomorrow.”

Not a question. Rather than bristle at his assumption, or knuckle under because she really did like spending time with him, she poked him on the chest. “Only if I get my work done. Now let’s go get some dessert so I can go home.”

Chapter Fourteen

Sunday night…

“Oh my fucking god,” she roared and came so hard her entire body bucked, vibrating like she was hooked up to a defibrillator.

Dalton’s fingers tightened on her hips and he held on, never missing a stroke.

Her pussy throbbed from Dalton’s cock plunging in and out of her like a battering ram. From her second orgasm in fifteen minutes.

The man was a sexual beast.

A half-shouted grunt echoed and then Dalton said, “Fuck,” as his cock pumped inside her spasming channel.

She didn’t rock back into him, but remained still, squeezing her inner muscles around that gloriously thick shaft.

“God I love fucking you,” he growled against the back of her neck.

“Dalton. We’ve got to… Omigod, stop doing that thing with your hips right now.”

“This?” He chuckled in her ear. “You don’t really want me to stop.”

“Yes, I do. We ah…need to…” What the hell word was she looking for? She couldn’t think her brain was so scrambled. Oh right. “We need to talk. We can’t keep going at it like this.”

“Wrong.” His hot breath drifted over her shoulder and she suppressed a shiver. “There’s no goin’ back. I will be all up in you—” Dalton’s soft lips left a trail of kisses down her spine, “—all the time.” He eased out of her body and pulled her upright. “At least once a day.”

“Umm…yeah. But…”
Oh, hello, fingers on my nipples, I missed you in the last twenty minutes while you were on my hips.
When he put his hands on her like that, softly, sweetly, reverently…her mind became mush. Gluttonous mush that couldn’t think beyond
more
.

“You were sayin’?” he murmured in that deep voice that dripped of sexually satisfied male.

“Oh. This is the third time today we’ve had rock-my-body, blow-my-hair-back sex.”

“Really? Since you didn’t mention scream-inducing sex, means I haven’t been up to snuff the other two times, so sugarplum, I fully plan on goin’ for four.”

Monday evening…

“Seriously. We need to talk. We can’t…”
Keep doing this
, her brain supplied lamely before it purred and went back into hibernation.

Rory’s eyes rolled back in her head when Dalton switched to those butterfly licks with his tongue.

He lifted his head long enough to say, “I can’t talk with my mouth full,” and buried his face between her thighs again.

Between his fingers and his skillful mouth, Rory didn’t stand a chance at holding back. The orgasm blasted through her like a grenade. No build up. Just
BOOM
.

Then Dalton was sliding into her. His teeth at her throat. His fingers twisted in her hair. “Put your hands on me, Aurora.”

And she lost herself in him. In them. This was more than sex. This was Dalton imprinting her body with his. So she’d have no memory of any other man before him and want no other man after him.

She’d take advantage of his sexual obsession with her because she knew it wouldn’t last.

Wednesday morning…

A warm mouth enclosed her nipple. Rough-tipped fingers skated across her belly, between her hipbones and back up to pluck at her other nipple.

In the pitch black of her bedroom, Rory had no idea what time it was. She stretched her arms above her head and turned to look at the clock.

“Keep your hands there,” he rasped in that deep morning voice.

“Mmm-kay. But I did have pajamas on last night. What happened to them?”

“They were in my way this morning.”

“By all means, just strip me when it suits you.”

“I already did. And you, nekkid, warm and soft beneath me suits me just fine.” Dalton’s mouth reversed course, down the plane of her abdomen. “Spread your thighs and give me room.”

As soon as she stretched her legs out, Dalton settled in the space she’d created. He opened the flesh hiding her clit with his thumbs and fastened his mouth to her sex. No teasing, just gentle coaxing as he kissed her soft tissues. He focused his flicking tongue and suction without pause until the first spasm pulsed against his lips.

She felt him swallow the juices pouring from her. Felt the male pride that he’d gotten her so wet that her essence coated his face. Then she felt the heat of his need blast over her like a shock wave.

His hands gripped her ass and he rolled to his knees, placing the backs of her legs against his chest. He leaned forward and slid into her pussy. His strokes began slowly but didn’t stay that way for long.

Rory’s arms were above her head and she braced herself. Dalton bent so far forward, getting so deep inside her that her hips were parallel to her shoulders. Keeping one arm strapped against her legs, he grabbed the headboard and hammered his cock into her. His eyes closed, his face tight, fucking her like a man possessed. The headboard slammed into the wall as he slammed into her.

Unbelievably hot, how strongly she affected this strong man.

He came in near silence.

But afterward, when he held her, the words came. Sweet words sometimes. Raunchy words others. Words that were a near confession and scared her as much as thrilled her.

Like now.

“You’re mine, jungle girl,” he whispered against her throat. “Only mine. I’m never walking away from you again.” He sealed his mouth to hers, preventing a response.

But Rory didn’t know what to say anyway. The more she held back, the more determined he became to hold onto her.

Dalton gradually broke the kiss. “It’s early yet and I just…needed you.”

Not wanted. Needed. She’d begun to understand the differences in those two words.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll make coffee and let Jingle out.”

After he left Rory’s place on Wednesday morning, Dalton eyed the
No Hunting
signs hanging from the barbed wire fence on either side of the gate as he fiddled with the lock. Despite the rust and grime from constant Wyoming wind, the paddle lock opened easily. He unwound the four feet of chain and tossed it in the back of his truck.

After he pulled through, he pushed the gate shut. An open gate was an open invitation. Especially if the gate had remained closed the last three years. He needed time to sketch out his plans and he wasn’t in the mood to explain them to his brothers or anyone else who might happen by.

In his truck he spread out the oversized copy of the land plat. Four years ago they’d bought two parcels of land totaling five hundred acres from neighbors whose marriage had hit the skids. Initially he and his brothers had intended to use the acres closest to the McKay ranch to run more cattle. Since a house and barn had been included with the property, Tell and Georgia had asked if they could move into it.

At the time, Dalton hadn’t minded living in a trailer. But it had bugged him that he’d fronted every penny for the land purchase and it was just expected that all five hundred acres would be absorbed into the McKay ranching operation. He wouldn’t have anything to show for all the money he’d put into it except joint ownership—split three ways.

So Dalton had consulted his cousin Gavin—beings he was a real estate guru—and Gavin suggested Dalton not give the entire section in a gesture of family largess, but personally retain a portion of the acreage, specifically the acreage that bordered Gavin’s land.

Dalton had agreed even though it dragged out the official paperwork an additional two months. By then, he’d started dating Addie and his brothers assumed that he’d build a house on that section for his wife-to-be. Strange to think he hadn’t even considered that option.

Once Brandt and Tell had taken possession of three hundred acres with creek access, they didn’t ask what Dalton intended to do with his section, since it was less conducive to running cattle. And during the years Dalton was gone, they’d never asked permission to do anything with the land—neither had Gavin.

And now Dalton knew exactly what he’d do with it.

Two hundred acres wasn’t much, but in this situation it’d be ideal because the elk herd could easily be contained by a combination of fencing and natural barriers. Much as ranchers lamented the lack of water in high plains desert, this was one instance where the lack of water would be a benefit. Hauling water meant he controlled placement of the tanks. It also meant animals wouldn’t wander off in search of water because they’d know exactly where to find it.

Putting his truck in drive, he followed the tire tracks downhill, stopping every once in a while to mark off where the sections of fence would need to be higher.

The topography was a mix of rolling hills and deep crevasses. He’d have to get out at some point and study the raised ridge. But for now he stopped to add notes to his crude drawings and returned to inching across the landscape.

After traveling the last three years and living in the mountains for over a year of that, he’d forgotten the sparsity of the area. Several clumps of trees grew at the lowest points of the draws, providing more diversity in vegetation than he’d remembered. Also a point in his favor for an elk habitat.

Dalton spent hours traversing the land, checking the condition of the fences and possible problem access points. When he finished he understood how labor-intensive this project would be—work he’d be one hundred percent responsible for. But what else was he supposed to do with his time? Hang out in the hospital? No way. Or tag along opening fences for his brothers as they did chores? No way on that, either. He didn’t have a burning desire to raise elk, but he did have a burning desire to convince Rory they were meant to be. That meant living here.

He flipped through the pages of regulations. No new surprises—he’d studied up on other states rules. There wasn’t a huge difference between Montana stipulations and the proposed regulations in Wyoming.

As he headed back, he tried to take in anything he might’ve missed on the first pass. At the gate he installed the new paddle lock with the heavier, shorter chain and locked it up.

On the drive back into Sundance, his thoughts strayed to Rory. Sweet, sexy, funny insatiable Rory. They’d burned the sheets up and then some the last five days. As much as he loved that her desire, need, passion and obsession almost matched his, he realized he needed to slow things down. He had to show her this relationship was so much more than just hot sex.

Which reminded him that first lunch date he’d sworn to romance the hell out of her. And what had he done besides the candlelit seduction?

Not. A. Damn. Thing.

He needed to rectify that.

But how?

Then the perfect idea occurred to him.

She’ll think it’s lame. How can you even consider that romantic?

Better to try and fail than not try at all.

Dalton made a mental note for the additional items he’d need from the hardware store.