Gone Country (57 page)

His admission made her nipples hard, and she shifted beneath the covers.

“You asked me what the problem was. I told you, and you launched into this amazing analysis of what you thought was wrong. That made me even hotter for you.” His breath grew harsh, and his voice dipped lower. “I went home and jerked off thinking about you. Pulling the zipper down with my teeth. Pushing those overalls past your breasts…your hips. Making you step out of them so I could bend you over the hood and use my knee to spread your legs apart. You’d be open, Frankie. Accessible and wet as I slid my cock into you one inch at a time. Slow. I’d go so slow, baby, even now, because I’d want to feel all of you as I went in. I’d relish the heat and the burn. I’d push and stretch you until your pussy squeezed me tight, over and over while you screamed my name.”

Frankie pressed her thighs together as his words pulsed straight to her clit. Her strained breath joined his. “W-were you in your bed when you…jerked off?” she whispered, slipping a hand down her stomach. She imagined him stroking his cock as he caressed her, feeling the silken skin of her belly and lower. Her knees parted as a hand—she groaned—connected with the hot, moist flesh exposed. Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes.

“I was in the shower. I came so fucking hard I thought I was going to pass out,” he admitted gruffly. “Can you wear those tomorrow? The overalls?”

She nodded then cleared her throat when she realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes. If you want me to.”

“Hell yeah. I want to unwrap you like a present. No bra. Pinch your nipples for me now, Frankie,” he murmured.

She covered one breast with her hand and tweaked her nipple. Her body was already in overdrive from the night of almost unbearable tension, and excitement and wetness flooded her center. She pinched again, more sharply this time, and gasped.

“I love that sound.” Mac groaned. “Do it again. Play with your nipple and imagine it’s my mouth, my tongue, my teeth. I can’t wait to cup those full, gorgeous breasts in my hands. Do you remember the second car I brought you, Frankie?”

She writhed against her hand as she plucked at the straining tip of her breast. “No,” she breathed.

“The Z-28. You were leaving midday to go to the dentist. It was summertime, and you had on a halter top with tiny little roses on it. All I could think about was sliding it down and covering one of those luscious breasts with my mouth. Kneading the other with my hand. Want to know something really dirty?”

She did. So much. “Yes,” she whispered, grinding the heel of her palm against her pubic bone.

“Every day for a week I had the same dream. You were naked on your knees in front of me.” His voice went rough, guttural, and she strained to understand him, desperate for the words and the sensations they caused. “I didn’t even ask. You just opened your beautiful mouth and welcomed me inside. Deep, deep inside. Working your tongue, pulling and sucking me off until I was ready to come.”

“Un-huh.” Her legs had begun to quake as she arched against her hand now, the tension in her thighs building.

“Then you’d stop and raise up to kiss my stomach. I could feel your tits on my cock, your hard nipples brushing my thighs. You’d press my dick between your breasts and squeeze. It felt like dying. You’d start to move, bouncing high on your knees, then down again, faster and faster, squeezing tighter and tighter. Right when I thought I’d die, you would stare up at me, those gorgeous lips swollen from sucking my cock. Right as I was about to come, I’d wake up. I’d be so fucking hard, so ready, I’d grip it and give it one stroke and explode.”

“I want you to do that now. Let me hear you,” she begged.

“Oh yeah. You too. Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes. Outside my underwear.”

“Take them off,” he growled.

Her whole body shook as she put the phone down and stripped off her clothes. She’d never felt so desperate for an orgasm, so wild and out of control in her life. Scooping up the phone, she lay back down and slipped a hand between her legs. The wet heat engulfed her fingers, soaking them. She let out a hiss.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Is your pussy wet for me, Frankie? Because my cock has never been so hard.”

“Yes, I’m wet. So wet, and I want you inside me so bad,” she whimpered.

She could hear the creaking of his bed through the phone now, and the slow, steady beat set her aflame. There was no question what he was doing.

Desire as reckless as a fighter jet in freefall…and just as dangerous.

Double Down

© 2012 Katie Porter

Vegas Top Guns, Book 1

As part of the 64th Aggressor Squadron, Major Ryan “Fang” Haverty flies like the enemy to teach Allied pilots how not to die. The glittering excess of the Strip can’t compare to the glowing jet engines of his F-16. But a sexy, redheaded waitress in seamed stockings? Now
she
gets his blood pumping.

Cassandra Whitman’s good-girl ways haven’t earned any slack from her manager ex-boyfriend, or prevented a bad case of frazzle from holding down two and a half jobs. She sure wouldn’t mind letting the handsome Southern charmer shake up her routine.

Their wild weekend lives up to Sin City’s reputation. Especially when they discover a matched passion for roleplaying. For Cass, it’s an exciting departure from her normal, shy persona. But for Ryan, it triggers memories of a time when his fetish drove away the woman he loved—leaving him reluctant to risk a repeat performance.

Except Cass refuses to settle for ordinary ever again. She’s about to show the man with hair-trigger hands that she’s got a few surprise moves of her own.

Warning: This book contains dirty-hot roleplaying, featuring an all-alpha fighter pilot and an ambitious waitress with a fabulous imagination. Also: dressing-room sex, a plaid schoolgirl skirt, and a sprinkling of spankings.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Double Down:

She assessed her appearance in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. For the hundredth time. No change. She still looked like a naughty fantasy.

A French maid. She should’ve guessed.

Her grin took on a distinctly sexual edge, which she didn’t mind at all. The blush too felt right—a little self-conscious, a little anxious. Already the temperature in her blood upped toward scalding.

“You greedy slut,” she whispered to her reflection, the grin broadening. “One great time wasn’t enough.”

Her nerves stretched and stretched as she waited. She’d ordered room service and managed to take a quick shower. Her hair was still wet, but she’d bound it in a sleek bun at the base of her neck. A light application of the cosmetics she’d snagged during a two-minute run through a store in The Paris’s lobby had done wonders to hold back the look of fatigue.

Ryan’s knock, when it came, sped her heartbeat. If she played the French maid, she wondered what he would be. A bedraggled traveler who’d had the buttons yanked off his shirt? A down-on-his-luck gambler?

And just how far would she push this? Cass had spent the last hour trying to get inside his head. There was a huge gulf between a bit of dress-up and full roleplaying. She was almost surprised at how much she wanted it to be the latter. Something that tipped over, deep inside. Something had
unlocked
. She could be anything, say anything, do anything.

The worst he would do is laugh, maybe flash that pulse-pounding smile and tell her to drop the act. He might merely be a guy after something different to look at, but that didn’t feel right, not for Ryan. She had a guess as to what he liked, and she was willing to give it a shot.

His knock was more insistent the second time. Good. She didn’t like to think that he’d give up on her.

Cass took a deep breath and opened the door.

Ryan stood at the threshold wearing a fantastic dress uniform. The dark blue did marvelous things for his healthy tan, and the braided silver trim looked impressively realistic. Navy? No, that wasn’t right. Air Force, maybe?

More than the color and the authenticity of the costume, she loved how it was exactly tailored to his body—tall and lean, long and strong. Only a slack, bewildered expression gave away his response to her maid’s outfit. Otherwise he embodied everything impressive and sexy about a man in uniform.

“Oh!
Monsieur
Haverty,” she said in her best French accent. A year spent studying art in Paris would finally prove good for something. “I hadn’t expected you so soon.
Merci
, come in.”

He hesitated for only a second. Then the reality of what she’d done and said—how she sounded—seemed to click in his brain. “Thank you. I didn’t expect to be kept waiting.”

“My apologies,
monsieur
. I was only just finishing up.”

“I don’t appreciate sloppy service.”

She nibbled her bottom lip, daring to glance up from beneath lowered lashes. He surveyed the hotel room with the air of a man who expected perfection and found it lacking. A curious heat bloomed in her stomach, reveling in his command of the moment.

She’d been right. The man wanted to play.

“Your room-service order is waiting for you in the bedroom,” she said, pitching her voice toward conciliatory. “As you requested.”

“Oh?” He lifted his brows. “I’m curious if you managed to get that right, at least.”

She ushered him into the bedroom where a rolling silver-tone cart was topped with a plate of fresh fruit and a bottle of champagne on ice. She’d ordered the items no matter the sticker shock, figuring they’d sort out paying for it later. Tonight was about living a fantasy.

Ryan strolled to the cart. His expression verged on haughty as he surveyed the assortment. “Good enough.”

“I’m pleased,
Monsieur
Haverty.”

“It’s Major Haverty, actually.”

“Major?”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Cassandra,” she said, briefly shaking hands. That same electric zap they’d shared from the first moment reappeared, only stronger. She almost dropped character. Ryan’s teasing grin made a brief reappearance, as if he too was tempted to laugh.

Then it was gone. He was Major Haverty again.

“Where are you from, Cassandra?”

“Montparnasse, in Paris.”

Dear Lord, he was unbelievably handsome in that uniform. She wondered again where he’d picked it up. Had he returned to the sex shop? Or someplace else? He stood with his shoulders back, his posture firm and solid. The thought turned her on in funny, unpredictable ways. The roleplaying was easy to indulge when he fit the part so perfectly.

“What do you do in the military? Is it the Air Force?”

“That’s right,” he said. “I fly fighter jets. F-16s.”

Cass’s jaw dropped. He could do that all day, adding facts to his character that would’ve seriously jeopardized the absorbency of her panties—had she been wearing any.

No matter how fabulous Ryan looked, her hands were restless for wanting to see him stripped. Something about his expression, however, told her he’d be the one giving orders.

Yes, sir.

“Well, I should finish up my duties.” So breathless now, she heard her accent slipping.

She turned to leave the bedroom, but he called out, “Miss? Could you help me first?”

“My pleasure,
monsie
—I mean, Major.”

He seemed to stifle a private smile. “This coat.” He began undoing the buttons. “It’s too hot in here for it. I won’t be able to get comfortable.”

“I should think not.” She crossed the floor, her knees shaky. “Here, let me help.”

He dropped his arms to his sides as she undid the remaining buttons. Her breath was coming in fitful gulps, but she forced herself to concentrate.

Calm down.

By the looks of how they were playing this hand, they would take their time. She needed to get herself under control or she’d wind up begging for a quickie down on the carpet to cut the tension. What she loved about their game was what would rip her up inside. The waiting. The deliberate buildup.

She pressed her hands flat against his body, right above his ribs. Slowly, slowly, she smoothed them up the inside of his coat, making love to his chest with her palms and her fingertips. His shoulders were tense. Corded ropes of muscles bunched and relaxed beneath her touch. She eased the dress coat over his shoulders then down his brawny arms.

Through it all he held his tense stance, chin thrust out. She liked to think she had all of him at attention, but she didn’t dare go for his crotch. Not yet.

The coat dropped to the floor behind him. “Thank you,” he said curtly. “You can hang that up now.”

Cass hid her smile. She angled her backside in such a way that he would get the choicest view as she bent at the waist. She took her time, first retrieving the coat, then strolling to the closet where she found a hanger. Every action felt bathed in molasses, so achingly slow. In that hotel room, time had ceased.

A
pop
sound yanked her heart into her throat. She turned to find Ryan pouring champagne. The pale blue dress shirt did even better things for his tan than the dark coat. Muscles pulled and shifted with every movement. Her mouth watered at the prospect of seeing him fully nude. They’d shared so much so quickly, but damn did they have a long way to go.