Slow Ride (15 page)
She was walking toward his bed when he startled her yet again by yanking off her hat. It had been slipping all night and irritating her, but since they’d gotten in the car, she’d basically forgotten about it. Now she was made aware of it again as well as of him when he tore it off her head and tossed in onto his dresser.
“You have an issue with that hat?” she asked him.
“I have an issue with you wearing too many clothes.”
“That’s not clothing. It’s an accessory.” And she had thought it might actually be fun to well, ride Diesel, with her riding boots and hat on. “A rather cute one at that.”
But he shook his head. “No hat. No boots. Not this time.”
Did he freaking read minds? She was starting to think he did, because every time she turned around it seemed like Diesel was anticipating either her thoughts or her actions. It was unnerving. A little hot. But mostly freakish.
It was warm in his room and she wanted to be naked anyway. While wearing a jacket had been cute in concept, on the back end of August it wasn’t the wisest of choices, so she peeled it off and let it drop to the floor. Under it she was wearing a black tank top, designed to boost her less-than-ample chest.
Diesel paused in the middle of turning on the bedside lamp. “I’d tell you you’re beautiful but you already know it.”
She didn’t always know that. She was confident, for the most part, in her looks and in her personality, but lately she’d been doubting everything. Who she was. How she carried herself. What the future held for her. A little reassurance and ego stroking wouldn’t be a bad thing. “Doesn’t hurt to hear it said out loud.”
Diesel came toward her and cupped her face with both his hands. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, in a tone so soft and sincere that Tuesday felt her breath catch.
There was no control with him, that’s what she was learning. He constantly knocked her off-kilter, shifting from arrogant to tender to dominating to gentle.
She liked it.
She liked him.
And she didn’t know what that meant.
Except that she was starting to think he was more than just a casual hookup.
He was . . . something more.
Maybe she had known that since the second she had cried on his shirt at her father’s funeral.
“Oh, God,” she whispered when his tongue swept over her bottom lip. She never knew what to expect from him, but she always knew she was going to enjoy it.
Warmth was flooding between her legs already and she couldn’t prevent herself from bumping up against his erection. She wanted to see him naked, touch his hard muscles with her bare fingers. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, a typical guy uniform, though the cut and quality said they weren’t from the local discount store. From the brief glimpse into his bedrooms, it was clear Diesel liked nice things, and he had the money to purchase them. Which meant he wouldn’t be wearing some cheap tightie-whities.
She found the snap of his jeans and she fumbled with it as he dragged his tongue from one corner of her mouth to the other. He was driving her insane with all that teasing and she just suddenly wanted him inside her more than anything else. Screw the foreplay, she wanted cock.
“Hey. Slow down,” he told her, knocking her hand off of his button.
Never had she thought of herself as a whimperer but at that moment she was definitely one. What leaped out of her mouth was a whimper and a whine all rolled into one. “Come on, seriously? Just let me have a feel.”
He nuzzled her ear, his tongue slipping inside with a damp tickle.
Tuesday shivered and tried for the button again, but he held her hand still against the waist of his jeans. “Now you’ve become the dude and I’m the chick. I want to take it slow and you’re all about the wham-bam.”
“What’s wrong with the wham-bam?” she asked. “Sometimes there is a time and place for it, and I think now is one of them.”
“Well, I disagree. And I’m the one in charge.” Diesel stepped back completely.
Tuesday was starting to really hate it when he did that.
But then he reached out and in one swift motion peeled her tank top off. There he was again—totally unpredictable. But this had a positive result. She was out of her already sweaty tank top and standing in front of him in her bra, stretchy pants, and riding boots. If that didn’t force the man out of his pants, she was going to be seriously impressed with his control.
It was a push-up bra, after all. The girls were shoved high and tight and a quick glance down showed they were looking mighty fine, if she did say so herself.
“You like what you see?” he asked her with a sly grin. “Because I do.”
“They’re not bad in a bra,” she admitted. “And I’ve been told my nipples are one of my better features.”
“Oh really? And who the fuck told you that?”
Was that some sort of ridiculous jealousy rearing its head? Tuesday grinned. “The dozens and dozens of men I’ve slept with. Songs have been written about my nipples. Artwork created. Lives changed forever after an encounter with La Nipples.”
His head tilted. “You’re a smart-ass.”
“Always.”
“But you’re playing with fire.”
Actually she was feeling pretty pleased with herself. It was fun to turn the tables on him.
Except she couldn’t hold control for long. Diesel took it right back by stripping off his T-shirt and showing her one of the most amazing male chests she’d ever seen outside of a calendar. Flipping his hair out of his eyes, he lifted his arm to finish what the flick of his neck hadn’t completed, and the whole motion made Tuesday’s mouth go dry. His muscles were rippling, his jeans were slipping, and she was perilously close to coming just looking at him. He had a tattoo down his right side, some kind of tribal symbol.
“Touch your nipples,” he told her.
“What?” She had lost the thread of what they were talking about when he’d taken his shirt off.
“Touch your nipples since they’re so damn amazing. Show me how good they feel.”
She’d much rather touch his but she knew he wasn’t going to allow that. “With my bra on or off?”
His nostrils actually flared. “Start with it on, then take it off.”
She could do that. “I feel like I need a playlist going.” Music would make it feel more natural, but she went for it anyway. Sliding her hands up her thighs and her waist, Tuesday finally reached her breasts, cupping them. It was an astonishing bra. The truth was, she couldn’t really feel herself through all that padding and Lycra, or whatever miracle material had created actual cleavage for her. After a few swirls of her thumb over where she thought her nipples should be, Tuesday decided it was time to send the bra on its way.
Diesel was standing with his thumbs hooked loosely in the pockets of his jeans, his hair falling in his eyes, his chest a study in manly perfection. He was clearly enjoying the show, but she wanted a reaction from him. She wanted him to lose control, to close the distance between them and grab her, suck her nipples, and tear her pants off.
So to encourage him to make that happen, Tuesday bent her knee, tossed her hair back over her shoulder, and unhooked her bra. In a move she hoped was seductive, she leaned forward slightly, giving him a clear view of her cleavage, and letting the loose straps fall off her shoulders. Then she reached between her breasts, tugged the bra, and let it drop to the floor. It was actually a very freeing feeling to stand there with him watching her while she felt confident and sexy. She ran her fingers through her hair to move it off her face first before she reached down and rubbed both her nipples with her thumbs.
That small sensation, while he watched with an erection clearly bulging through his jeans, aroused her completely. She was so ready to have an orgasm, so ready to feel him thrusting deep inside her. Starting to work her nipples harder, Tuesday shifted her thighs restlessly. She wanted to ask Diesel what he thought, but at the same time, she just wanted to wait for him to speak first. So she let her eyes drift half closed and she concentrated on her own body, on the feeling each tweak and tug was creating deep between her legs. When she pinched hard, she let out a soft moan.
Her eyes flew back open when Diesel was suddenly in her space. “You’re beautiful,” he told her again, his hands snaking around her waist. Bending his head, he flicked his tongue over her nipple, catching both her tight bud and her finger, which was still covering it.
Now she gasped, shocked at how such a slight contact could make everything inside her tighten and jolt. He moved her hands down away from her nipples and slowly laved across first one, then the other. He blew on her moist flesh each time he pulled away, heightening her awareness. Tuesday grabbed on to his waist, needing something to hold on to while he sucked her, first going at her gently and seductively, then switching to nipping and sucking hard, drawing her fully into his mouth.
She wanted to say something, to beg him for consistency, to pick a mood and stick with it, yet she didn’t because it was the very thing about his sexual approach that got her the hottest. It didn’t make sense, but his ability to strip away her control, to direct everything they were doing completely turned her on. So she let him switch at random intervals, sucking and biting and then softly licking, until she was breathing hard, clinging to him, squeezing her legs together and ready to beg.
He suddenly stopped altogether, just taking a step back before giving her left nipple one final pinch. “You’re right. These are very impressive nipples. First class.”
A breathy laugh escaped her mouth, despite the fact that she wanted to moan at his departure. “Why thank you.”
She reached out and tried to go for his zipper but Diesel stopped her yet again. “Stop stopping me,” she told him in frustration.
“Anticipation is part of the fun,” he said, leaning in and kissing the side of her neck.
An unexpected sharp swat on her backside had her eyes flinging open in shock. He had taken the crop to her again and damn, if it didn’t turn her on.
“And you need to learn some patience.”
As Tuesday quivered in desire, his lips on her neck, grip tight on her hands above her head, her ass receiving yet another quick smack, she knew she was about to be taught a lesson in that.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
SEVEN
TUESDAY
let her head fall back for better access and sighed when her bare breasts made contact with his hard chest. “Oh, that feels good.” She bumped her inner thighs against his erection, both wanting to give in to his domination, and wanting to resist. “And for the record, anticipation is overrated.”
let her head fall back for better access and sighed when her bare breasts made contact with his hard chest. “Oh, that feels good.” She bumped her inner thighs against his erection, both wanting to give in to his domination, and wanting to resist. “And for the record, anticipation is overrated.”
“So you like instant gratification?”
“Yes.” She liked to think of it more as knowing what she wanted and getting it right away.
He dropped his hand, releasing her wrists. “Then I’m going to give it to you.”
Before she even realized what he was about to do, Diesel had stripped her pants down to her knees and his mouth was buried between her thighs.
“Oh, shit,” was all she could manage before she dug her fingers into his hair and held on as he licked from one end of her slit to the other.
His hands gripped her ass tightly as he worked her hard and tight with his tongue. Tuesday threw her head back and gasped, instinctively trying to move away from the intensity of his touch.
He just held her tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh, nose pressing against her belly as he pulled her swollen clit into his mouth and sucked. Tuesday knew she was going to come and she knotted her fingers in his hair. When he slid back down inside her moist, hot center, she bit her bottom lip and let the orgasm rip through her. She didn’t make any sound, just let it rock through her as they gripped each other tightly. It was one of the hardest orgasms she’d ever had, and when the waves of pleasure subsided slightly, she still didn’t speak, just sucked in some air and tried to comprehend what the hell he had just done to her.
Diesel stepped back and stood straight, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “Instant gratification. But now you’ll anticipate the second time you come. So in the end, we’ll still do it my way.”
She shivered, no doubt in her mind that he could make her come again in another ninety seconds if he chose.
About to make a comment, hell, give him a compliment, she stopped when she realized that he had winced then tried to hide it. He had been down on his knees eating her out, and it was obvious that had been a bad idea. Instantly flooded with both guilt and compassion, Tuesday reached for his hand.
“Are you okay?”
But his eyebrows shot up and she knew it was the wrong thing to say. He avoided her touch, and with his foot came down on her pants, still hovering around her ankles. “Don’t do that. Don’t feel sorry for me.”
That irritated her. She wasn’t feeling sorry for him. She was expressing concern. There was a big difference and she didn’t like his attitude. “Maybe you should appreciate that I give a shit how you feel.”
“If you give a shit how I feel you would step out of your pants and get on my bed.”
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