Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders 15)

Dalton cupped her chin in his hand. “We can play all the sex games you want, Aurora, but what’s goin’ on between us is not a game to me.” He pulled her closer, taking her mouth in a savage kiss. His c**k swelled and she groaned softly as it pressed into her belly. He broke the kiss to command, “Outta the tub.”

Rory pushed back and stood. Water and soap bubbles rolled down her lush body. She let him look his fill as she unpinned her hair and shook it free.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he said in a low rasp.

She stepped over the edge and snagged a towel. She dried herself slowly, deliberately, her eyes held a hint of challenge. After wrapping the towel around her, she flounced out of the bathroom.

He sprang out of the water. He barely ran a towel over his body before he chased after her.

She’d nearly reached the bed when he tugged her towel free, leaving her naked. She whirled around and Dalton’s mouth was on hers, with one hand fisted in her hair, the other clamped on her left butt cheek.

Rory’s arms wreathed his neck and she kissed him with equal ferocity.

Dalton towed her to the living area and lowered her to the big couch.

“Aren’t we making carpet angels in front of the fireplace?”

“I’m not feelin’ angelic right now, Aurora.”

Her gaze briefly dropped to his cock. In one long sinuous movement, she stretched her right arm along the plush sofa until it was artistically arranged above her head. “Bring in the devil.”

When she put her feet up on the couch, Dalton said, “No. Keep your right foot on the floor. Like that. Press your left knee into the back of the couch so I can see every inch of your pu**y.” As soon as she complied his mouth dried up. “Jesus. You’re a f**king goddess.” Then he dropped to his knees and buried in face in her cunt.

Rory arched up and her hands automatically landed on his head.

Dalton lifted his mouth and looked at her. “No hands on me. Next time I have to tell you I will break out the ropes.”

With her arms above her head, her body was a beautiful curve from her pelvis to the tips of her fingers.

He traced her slit down to her opening and slipped two digits inside. Then he tongued her clit relentlessly until her sex spasmed against his mouth and her juices coated his face.

While she came down from that fast orgasm, he kissed the inside of her thighs. Her bikini line. The curve of her knee.

Rory propped herself up on her elbow. “Crawl up here and f**k me.”

Dalton scooted back, setting his left foot on the floor. Balanced on his right knee, he leaned forward and braced his left hand by Rory’s head. Watching her eyes, he rolled his hips, gliding his c**k along her pu**y. Her wet, hot, wide-open pu**y.

“You’re good at that.”

“What? This?” His shaft slid down her slick slit. He paused above the base of her pubic bone to drag the rim of his cockhead over her clit. Again and again and again.

Rory moaned. “Yes, that. Don’t tease. Fuck me.”

“Let’s see how flexible you are, yogi.” Dalton’s fingers formed a circle around her left ankle and he pushed her leg up and up until her knee was parallel with her shoulder. “Very flexible.” He angled his hips and pushed his c**k into her to the hilt.

“Omigod. That feels…” She didn’t finish her sentence when he started to move.

Dalton f**ked her without pause. The position of her leg opened her completely, creating more skin contact when he bottomed out inside her. Every time. The slap of his body into hers, the harsh breathing, the creak of the couch surrounded him, adding to his urgency.

“Push into me right…there. Yes.”

He kept his hand on Rory’s leg as he pounded into her. She was so wet he had to pause before he thrust back in. “Arch your lower back. Yes. God that’s so good.”

Rory thought so too because she started to come. She threw her head back, her hair sliding off the couch; her hands balled into tight fists, her mouth went slack.

Beneath his palm, her thigh went stiff. He could feel her clenching her ass cheeks in time to the blood throbbing in her clit. The rhythmic pulls of her pu**y muscles were like a silken vice around his cock, holding him in place.

He held on barely by the skin of his teeth as he rode out the storm with her.

When her limbs relaxed, he pumped into her so forcefully her body slid up the couch. His balls swung into her ass and he was done for.

He emptied himself into her, his mind blank.

But his heart? His heart was full.

Chapter Eighteen

The next night Rory showed up at the tournament ten minutes before it started.

After spending the day lounging around, goofing off, having sex on every piece of furniture in the hotel room, she thought she’d seen all of Dalton’s faces.

Apparently not.

Dalton’s poker face scared her a little.

She didn’t always have a clear line of sight to him. People walked in front of her blocking her view. But she’d seen enough to notice that he defined impassive. No reaction if he won a big pile of chips. No reaction if he lost. The man was impossible to read, which was how he won the table and advanced to the next round.

During the break Rory hung back with the crowd of spectators and eliminated players, waiting to see if Dalton sought her out. He didn’t.

He was a completely different person in this round than the previous round. He was friendly. Laughing. Trash talking. Very distracting. Acting as if winning was a surprise. He suckered them all in and handily walked away with that round too.

Rory paced, nerves getting the better of her during the next two rounds. If she was climbing out of her skin, how did Dalton remain so calm?

Because he’s a master at masking his emotions.

No, that wasn’t it. Was it?

One of the changes she’d noticed in him was Dalton’s long stretches of silence. Any other man she’d call it brooding, but with him…she had no idea what was going through his head in those moments. Whenever she asked him, he smiled and deflected, just like he used to. Which made her think he hadn’t changed as much as he’d insisted.

The announcement for the upcoming burlesque dinner show echoed through the casino and Rory refocused.

Dalton sat at the final table in the winner-take-all cash game with a payout of forty grand. If he won, he’d make more money in one night than she made in a year.

She’d wondered which Dalton would play in the final game. Impassive Dalton? Jovial Dalton? Nope. Neither. The Dalton seated fourth in on the left side of the dealer seemed antsy. Other players noticed and began to watch him for a specific nervous tic that could be construed as a tell.