Slow Ride (28 page)
She liked those qualities about him. He, too, was loyal, and generous, and intelligent. He meant what he said and nothing was hot air with him. So for him to say he was attracted to her and wanted to be with her, only her was something she trusted one hundred percent. It might mean that she wasn’t the only one who was falling head over ass here. It meant that this man that she was falling in love with just might be falling in love with her as well, or might at least at some point in the future, and that made her speechless. Breathless. Her heart raced, her palms sweated, her chest felt inflated.
For the first time in her adult life, she didn’t know what to say to a man. But he was looking at her expectantly, and she forced the words out past her tightened throat, the first ones that popped into her head. “I’m cool with that.”
It wasn’t good enough. She knew it immediately from the flicker of maybe disappointment in his blue eyes. Why was it so easy for her to rant and express agitation or dissect other people, but so damn hard to throw her own true feelings out there?
Diesel had been there for her, as a friend, as a lover. He deserved more. He deserved honesty, even if the thought of making herself vulnerable made her want to run and hide behind a steel door with a massive lock. She almost said something like, “You know I dig you,” but stopped herself. That wasn’t right either.
She was squeezing the box so hard, the popcorn was forced to the top and a piece tumbled into her lap, but she ignored it. It was scary to be real, but she swallowed hard, making eye contact. “I think you’re a very attractive man, Daniel, both inside and out. You’re thoughtful, loyal, responsible, kind, sexy as hell, and amazingly calm. I’m really grateful to have you in my life.”
God, had she really just said that? Her instinct was to tack a snarky comment on to the end of it, but she resisted, fishing the popcorn out of her lap and eating it out of pure nervousness. Doing this right with Diesel mattered.
It earned her a smile from him, a genuine, wide smile. “Thanks, sweetheart, I feel the same way. I care about you, you know.”
Caring was good. That was how she felt. And wasn’t caring a pit stop on the road to love? She was hoping it was. “I care about you, too.”
“Good.” He reached out and took a piece of her popcorn. “Now can we ditch this movie and go home?”
She glanced at the screen. “It’s almost over.”
“I’ll let you pick what position you want to be fucked in.”
Tuesday felt a kick of lust between her legs. Her choice? She never got a choice, mostly because he controlled what they were doing, and she liked it. But the idea of being the one calling the shots for once held a certain appeal. “Done.”
“Put your seat belt on.” He was already backing the car up, turning the radio off to kill the sound of the movie. “So what’s your position pick?”
She made a sound in the back of her throat. “I’m running through all of them in my head.” It was an arousing little exercise, picturing all the ways he could enter her. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Ladies’ choice isn’t going to happen very often, so you’d better pick wisely.”
But the truth was, Tuesday knew no matter which position she picked, it was going to be damn satisfying.
“I’ll just show you,” she told him.
He didn’t answer, but his erection was answer enough.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
TWELVE
BACK
at her place, Tuesday let Diesel push her up against the wall in her entryway, his hands on her waist, head bent over her as he slid his tongue across the top her breast. That was the wonderful thing about warm weather clothes—easy access.
at her place, Tuesday let Diesel push her up against the wall in her entryway, his hands on her waist, head bent over her as he slid his tongue across the top her breast. That was the wonderful thing about warm weather clothes—easy access.
It was amazing how hot he could get her with so very little effort. That was the beauty and the mystery of attraction . . . when you clicked with someone, the sexual sparks were lit as easily as dry kindling.
He pulled down the front of her sundress and her bra and pulled her nipple into his mouth. Tuesday felt the echo of the movement deep inside her womb and she held on to his shoulders for support. Part of her just wanted him to lift her dress and pound into her. Right now. Two steps from the door. Against the wall, hard.
If she wanted it, he would give it to her.
But that would still be him, in control, driving her pleasure.
What she wanted was for him to lose control. To completely and totally give in to his desire, his passion. He never lost that edge, never gave up any of his power during sex, and that was what she wanted.
Tuesday picked her position.
“Let’s go to the bed,” she told him, trying to gently pull his head away from her breast.
“Not yet.” He went to the other breast, sucking and tugging at her nipple.
Despite the sharp kick of desire that brought her, Tuesday stood her ground. “You said it was my choice.”
“We’re not ready for sex yet. This is called foreplay, sweetheart.” He looked at her with hooded, dark eyes, his beard tickling her cleavage.
Tuesday yanked harder on his head. “No. Now.”
There was a pause where his eyes narrowed, then he spoke, his voice low and tight, filled with lust. “Well, alright then. If you want to be in bed, we’ll go to bed.” With a fake gallant gesture, he moved his arm in a swirl. “After you.”
Feeling confident with her plan, Tuesday walked past him breezily, her breasts still popping out of her sundress. “Thanks.”
Her bedroom wasn’t as tidy as Diesel’s but it wasn’t a disaster either. There were only a few discarded clothing choices on the chair, so she bent over to grab them and toss them on the floor. “Sit down.”
“Where? The chair?” He gave her a look that was both lascivious and satisfied. “You’re going to ride me on the chair? I like that idea, babe.”
Let him think that’s what she had in mind. “Take off your clothes.”
To encourage him to do the same, she pulled the straps of her dress off her shoulders and shoved it down past her waist. Stepping out of it, she raked her hair back off her face and waited for him to strip off his T-shirt and jeans. He had the most incredible body. She loved looking at him, touching him, scratching her nails down his stomach and back. He shoved his briefs down.
Don’t even get her started on that penis. It was a work of art. Sculpted for pleasure, just for her. As he sat down in the chair, Tuesday thought about another woman putting her hands on Diesel, of another woman sliding herself down onto that fantastic erection, and she knew that what she was feeling wasn’t just attraction. She was in love with this man, and she only wanted him with her. Ever.
He was in the chair, looking tense and turned on, his erection straining upward.
He expected her to climb onto him.
That wasn’t her plan.
Dropping to her knees in front of him, Tuesday bent over, her mouth open.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, stopping her forward motion with a sharp grip on her hair.
Looking up at him from under her lashes, she gave him a sly shrug. “This is the position I’ve chosen.”
His eyes widened in shock, then he shook his head. “Doesn’t count.”
“Oh, yes, it does. You didn’t define the terms.”
This was what she wanted to do. He never let her suck him because he had to direct and control their sex. Every time she had tried to reach for him, he moved her away. He flipped her over on her back, pulled her up for a kiss . . . anything that kept her off his cock. Because for a man like Diesel, he was not prepared to let go of himself completely.
Today she was going to suck him until he did.
One hand on the bottom of his shaft, she enclosed him with her mouth.
“Tuesday.” It was half groan, half protest.
She ignored him and took him fully into her. When she pulled back off, she made sure to leave a nice slick trail behind her, which made the next downward motion smooth and effortless.
His hands were on his thighs, balled into fists. He was tense, his breath short and clipped. He was containing himself.
Not for long. She found a nice, slow rhythm, her hand gripping his cock tightly, following behind her mouth as she stroked up and down on him.
With her free hand, she cupped his balls, enjoying that for the first time, she had all of him in her hold. She picked up the pace. His breathing increased, short, urgent pants that whistled through his clenched teeth. His fists opened and his fingers dug into his thighs. Tuesday thought he tasted delicious, her own body responding to the thrusting parody, her inner thighs soaking wet with desire. But she didn’t even think of conceding, of climbing onto him. This was her choice and this was his turn.
Without warning, his hands went into her hair and he took over the rhythm for her. He pounded her mouth down onto his cock, his groans bursting out with satisfying volume.
She had him. He had let go.
It was immensely gratifying to know that he trusted her completely and that she got him so hot, so aroused, that he was willing to give in to that passion.
She could feel his balls tightening in her hand, his legs tensing. He was going to come. Bracing herself for the explosion, she felt the definite feeling of triumph sweep over her. It would be impossible to ever feel this way with any other man. She was certain of it, high on that knowledge, and she was going to let him burst into her mouth, something she never did.
But Diesel had different ideas. He moved so fast, she almost fell backward, but he steadied her after he pushed her off of him. Then before she could react or gauge his intent, he had her turned around. With a tug, he tore her panties with a snap of the side string.
Holy shit. He had torn her panties. There wasn’t anything hotter. And when he pulled her back down toward him, she understood his intention, and sucked in a sharp breath of anticipation.
A second later his erection was pushing into her, her body dropping down onto him from gravity, and it was a hot, delicious collision, the angle forcing his cock to stretch her open for him.
“Oh, Diesel,” she told him, reaching blindly for the arms of the chair for stability.
He slapped her ass cheek. “Up and down. Come on, baby. Fuck me.”
You didn’t have to ask her twice. Tuesday put her feet on his and lifted herself up and down onto him, the position pulling her down with a nice hard bounce each time. His hands gripped her waist and he aided her movements.
Then he did something that he’d never done before. He bit her shoulder and came as he pounded into her, like he was bearing down on a leather strip during nineteenth-century surgery. He had never come before her. Ever. He always made sure she’d had two, three, sometimes four orgasms before he came. But now he just gripped her with teeth and hands and exploded inside her. It was so powerful she almost lost her balance, but she held on, and knowing what she had done to him sent her hurtling into her own orgasm.
It was so intense from the angle that the room actually went fuzzy in front of her, light-headedness forcing dancing spots in front of her. For a second she thought she was actually going to faint, the pleasure ripping through every inch of her, taking her somewhere she had absolutely never been before, in and outside of her body all at once.
When the spots receded and her body settled down into little spasms, Tuesday shook her head, shocked. Diesel’s head was against her back, his slick forehead between her shoulder blades.
“What the hell was that?” she finally asked with a little laugh.
His cock jumped a little inside her and she shivered from the aftershocks.
“That was perfection,” he told her. He kissed the spot where he had bitten her. “Sorry, I left a mark.”
“I don’t care.” She didn’t really care about anything but him at the moment.
His hands were running down her sides, and it felt sweaty and intimate and important. She wouldn’t, couldn’t do what she had just done with anyone else.
Standing up carefully, she pushed the remnants of her underwear to the floor and reached back for his hand. Pulling him out of the chair, together they stumbled three feet to the bed and laid down on it face-first.
“Mmm,” was his opinion, his hand on her waist. “That was good head, sweetheart.”
How bizarre that his praise for her oral sex skills made her want to blush with pride. “Thank you.”
She draped her hand across his chest, her eyes fluttering, not sure if they wanted to stay open or close. They should go under the covers, but it seemed like too much work to move, and she was feeling very, very content.
Sleep was closing in on her when Diesel murmured in her ear, “Would it make you run if I said that I love you?”
Her eyes flew open. He was watching her, steady, calm, just like always. Yet there was something else . . . the truth behind his words was in his eyes.
Holy shit. He loved her.
Even as her heart started to race and she felt giddiness creep over her, she matched his casual tone. “No. Would it make you run if I said the same thing?”
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