Talk Me Down (26 page)
OLLY HEARD THE
booted footsteps approaching down the short hall of the cabin and scooted higher on the bed, squealing just a tiny bit under her breath. Oh, boy. Hoo doggie. Her week was finally about to take a very good turn.
That
was supposed to be a surprise.
Eyes glued to the doorway, Molly waited.
When Ben walked through, she was happy to see that he hadn’t obeyed her directions to the letter. He wasn’t naked. Instead he wore boots, jeans, and no shirt. And, most importantly, the black hat.
“Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. Molly almost swooned. Those muscled shoulders, that flat, hair-dusted belly. All of it framed against the rough wood logs of the bedroom wall. He should have been the cover model for
The Wicked West.
Mouth dry, she had to swallow before she could speak. “You’re sure you’re not doing this out of guilt?” Not that it mattered, really.
“Guilt?” Chocolate eyes swept down her legs, pushing heat along her skin. “If so, this is the first time I’ve ever had a guilt hard-on.”
“Your first? Ooo, I’ll take it!”
He touched two fingers to his hat in a little salute. “At your service, ma’am.”
She hoped he didn’t hear the way her breath hitched in her throat. Really, it was almost embarrassing how much this was turning her on.
The air in the room flashed hot when he toed off his boots and reached for the button of his jeans. She almost told him to tamp down the fire before she realized he’d never lit the fireplace.
Urging him on with her eyes, she licked her dry lips, clenching her hands in the covers. Ben smiled.
“I’ve been thinking,” he drawled.
No! No thinking.
“Zipper,” she rasped. She wanted him totally naked, totally aroused, wearing nothing but a wicked look and that hat.
“You know, Brenda was stalking you, but she wasn’t the only stalker.”
“Uh-huh.” The outline of his amazing erection pressed against the rough denim, teasing her.
“So, actually, we were both right.”
What was with all the talking? Hadn’t she suffered enough this week? “Sure. Whatever. Drop the jeans, Sheriff. I mean, uh, Chief.”
His smiled widened, but not to happiness. No, it widened to something wicked and depraved. “So I’ve been thinking…We both lost that bet. Or, actually, we both won. Ma’am.”
She finally managed to swim up from her stupor long enough to get what he was saying. “Oh? You mean…ohhhh…”
He stalked closer, like a big cougar, and stopped in front of the duffel bag that sat on the bed. After tugging the zipper open, he cut his eyes toward her in a silent order, and Molly thought she might shiver to an orgasm right there.
“Not meaning to be disrespectful, ma’am,” he drawled. “But you owe me a show.”
Her thighs tightened in a pleasurable spasm, and she could feel how wet she was, how slick and hot. She’d do anything for him. Anything. “And what if I refuse?”
“Well, then.” When he hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, his pecs flexed and bunched, and the denim stretched tighter across his cock. “We’ve got ways of dealing with cheats in this town, ma’am.”
There was really no point in playing coy when he could clearly hear her panting, so Molly reached into the bag and pulled out her toy. “Is this what you’re looking for, cowboy?”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe it is.”
“And this?” Fighting a smile of anticipation, Molly pulled one knee up, knowing he’d get a tiny glimpse of what he wanted.
He swallowed hard, losing a bit of his cool. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Then take off those jeans and give me some inspiration to work with.”
For a cocky cowboy sheriff, he followed directions well. He unzipped his jeans and slipped the rest of his clothing off, revealing the hard, thick erection she’d missed for what seemed like months. Then he pulled the brim of the hat a little lower, so all she could see was the glitter of his eyes and that promising smile. And the impossibly wide chest and trim hips and defined thighs. And that cock. Her mouth watered. But she’d have to wait for that.
Molly shimmied lower on the bed, parting her thighs to push her skirt higher, not missing the way his dick jumped at the sight.
She meant to honor the spirit of the bet, she really did, but at this point things were totally out of her control. Ben told her exactly what he wanted her to do with Little Blue, and his harsh, dirty words proved her undoing. Her show reached its big finale in a grand total of forty-five seconds.
Lucky for her, Ben’s part of the performance went on for at least half an hour. And he promised to reprise it for her every day for as many years as she wanted.
And Molly definitely wanted.
TALK ME DOWN
Copyright © 2009 by Victoria Grondahl
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