Читать книгу Operation G-spot - Jodi Lynn Copeland - Страница 6

Goddamn Dusty.

Liz had come to Dusty’s Backroom to prove a point. Despite the fact that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him and his bedroom techniques, she didn’t want to sleep with him again. The plan had been to find another man capable of getting her juicy wet while Dusty was in viewing range. Thanks to the big, arrogant dickhead, the plan had backfired in a major way.

Dusty hadn’t stopped at chasing off the metrosexual in filmy pink, who seemed more infatuated with his hair and nails than her body. Dusty had to kiss her, had to remind her exactly how good he was at getting her hot.

And wet.

Damn her messed-up hormones and even more messed-up head, but she’d been dripping from the first touch of his tongue to the last brush of his hard cock. No other guy in the place had looked to be of screwable quality after that. She’d spent the better part of the night sitting at the bar, chatting with Jen, the head bartender. Now that the place was closing, Liz had the pleasure of going home alone and orgasmless yet again.

“No luck?”

Jen had disappeared into the back to help with cleanup, and Liz was taking a last pull from her beer when the amused masculine voice with a slight drawl reached her. She set the bottle on the bar and swiveled on her stool to find Dusty smiling down at her. She growled in the back of her throat.

Could the man not get it through his thick skull that she didn’t like him? Didn’t even want to see his too-damned-sexy face?

The lights had been turned on high, exposing every lean, lickable angle.

She shivered as she imagined the sandy-blond whiskers that darkened his square jawline and edged into his goatee scraping over her aroused flesh. Rumor had it some women came from nipple stimulation alone. She’d never believed she could be among that highly orgasmic group, but maybe the chafe of Dusty’s coarse facial hair over her breasts would be enough to empty her mind of thought and send her body spiraling toward climax.

Yeah, and that idea could go the hell back to wherever it came from. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m hooking up with someone in the parking lot in a few minutes.”

The right side of his mouth twitched. A devilish twinkle lit his dark brown eyes. He propped an elbow on the bar and leaned against it, the collar of his partially unbuttoned black dress shirt gaping open to reveal curling chest hair the same dirty-blond shade as his goatee. “Fucking in the parking lot—sounds like a classy guy.”

Pulling her attention back to his face, Liz struggled not to recall how delectable his body was beneath his shirt. Struggled and failed. Every inch of ripped abdominal and pectoral muscle encased in sun-bronzed skin materialized in her mind and sent a shiver through her belly. “Oh, pull-eaze, like you’d know anything about class.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I didn’t always spend my life in a bar.”

Reflecting on his high-society roots was far better than reflecting on his body. Thinking about his roots left her cold; thinking about his body left her eager to touch. There would be no more touching between them. Not one single brush.

Dusty had moved from Texas to Georgia seven and a half years ago. From what she’d overheard him tell Colin, he hadn’t spoken with his parents since. Why, Liz didn’t know. What she did know was that his parents were happily married, wealthy as Croesus, and regularly touted for their contributions to family-oriented organizations. It was hard to like anyone who would cut themselves off from an upbringing so ideal.

“You’d never be able to tell.” Snarkiness over her own, all-but-motherless rearing reflected in her voice. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed learning about her menstrual period from her red-faced, babbling father. That moment was right up there with their outing to buy a training bra—apparently he’d thought her breasts wouldn’t figure out what to do without preparation. They’d figured it out, all right. The little bastards were practically standing at attention and begging to be let out for some playtime in Dusty’s hands.

“You’ve mastered the art of seediness perfectly,” she continued. “Speaking of seedy, what happened to Blondie? Have to run home for a quick collagen fix?”

“Wasn’t my type.”

“Doesn’t put out on the first date. My sympathies.”

His smile gone, Dusty straightened. “You’re acting like an even bigger bitch than usual. Panties still in a twist over that kiss, or is the problem about wetness?”

Hah! As if he’d affected her panties with that puny kiss.

Okay, so maybe he had the tiniest little bit.

Ah, shit, she could lie to the rest of the world but not to herself. Their earlier tango had been about a whole lot more than a kiss, puny or otherwise. Her already damp sex moistened further as she recalled the thrust of his stiff dick.

Was he still hard?

Not that she cared. Really, she couldn’t give a rat’s ass. Ignoring the urge to rub her thighs together, Liz stood. “Get real, Marr. You know I don’t wear panties.”

The devilish gleam returned to his eyes. “That’s a yes to the wetness.”

Rolling her eyes, she started for the exit. “The day your kiss gets me wet will be the same one I start respecting you.”

“If you didn’t come to see me, what are you doing in my bar? You never come here. You hate country music.”

A rasp had settled into Dusty’s voice—his voice that sounded far too near. Liz stopped her trek for the door and turned back, barely stifling her gasp. He stood inches away, and the look in his eyes was both challenging and predatory. She took an involuntary step to the side. Her butt brushed against a pool table and she scowled. He could corner her all he wanted; she wouldn’t be intimidated.

She narrowed her eyes. “Obviously you suck at remembering as much as you do at fucking. I told you earlier, I came here looking for someone to screw. I wanted a change of pace from the metro scene.”

He nodded at the bar’s exit. The last of the patrons had disappeared into the night. “Looks like you’re shit outta luck.” With a cocky grin, he brought his hand to her face and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “Unless you were planning on the guy being an employee, in which case I’m sure we can work something out.”

Heat shot through her, jetting from her lips to her nipples to her core. For a second time, Liz just managed to catch her stunned gasp before it could leave her mouth.

What was it about him? Not only could he get her wet when she was fully clothed, but his simple touch had her sizzling.

She jerked her face away. “Yeah, your memory obviously sucks, or what part of ‘I’m hooking up in the parking lot’ did you miss?” Placing a hand on his chest, she attempted to push him out of her path. “He should be out there now. In other words, get the hell out of my way.”

He glanced at her hand but stood firm. “Does this mystery guy have a name?”

No, but she could pull one out of her ass as easily as the next woman—anything not to re-dredge thoughts of the hard wall of pure masculinity beneath her palm. She dropped her hand away. “Aiden.”

The look in his eye turned to something dangerous, at least to her common sense. He moved closer, until he was seriously messing with her personal space. His gaze on her mouth, he brought his hand back to her lips and rubbed the lower one with the pad of his thumb. “Tell me, Liz,” he said quietly, huskily, in a way that had her heart hammering, “does Aiden’s kiss make you wet?”

“One brush and I’m ready to come.” Oh gawd! Nice breathy voice. She sounded ready to throw herself at him.

“Just a brush.” Dusty’s warm breath whispered along her cheeks and, it seemed, every nerve in her body. He slid forward, barely a movement at all, but enough to have their bodies touching, his chest rubbing teasingly against her breasts, his erection pressing against her sex.

So much for not touching.

If nothing else, she had the answer to her earlier question of if he was still hard. He was, in a really big way.

His mouth came over hers, splintering further thought. One slow, soft, sensual caress and it lifted away. “A brush like that?” he asked roughly. “Or is this more what you were thinking of?” His mouth returned. No softness this time, but his teeth nipping at her lips with stinging little bites that had her nipples aching.

“Or maybe it wasn’t a mouth kiss you had in mind.” The breath rushed between Liz’s lips as he grasped her around the waist and lifted her onto the pool table. Flashing a taunting grin, he went to his knees. He inched her dress up and palmed her naked thighs. “Maybe this is more what you were thinking of.”

She gave her head a shake. What was wrong with her? She was sitting here, letting him have his way with her. It was the absolute last thing she wanted…. But, oh wow, who knew the cool felt of the pool table could feel so good on bare skin?

Talk about feeling good…

Dusty’s fingers moved along her inner thighs, easing her dress farther up as they brushed in slow, thought-fogging circles. His fingers stilled when they reached the soft curls at her apex. She hadn’t been joking when she’d told him she was pantyless—it was an action meant to bolster her sexual assurance. Now she paid the price. Now he could undoubtedly feel the juices sliding down her thighs, smell her arousal thick on the air. Now was the time to tell him what an asshole he was and get the fuck out of Dodge.

One lone, long finger threaded through her damp curls, and the breath snagged in her throat. Lovely. How was she supposed to tell him to stop now? She couldn’t speak a word without risking a sigh, or worse, demanding he screw her immediately.

A second finger joined the first. Together they stroked the lips of her sex, splayed them wide.

His gaze returned to hers, lust thick in its depth. “Nothing quite like sucking on a slick, pink pussy to end a long, hard day at the office.”

Liz’s belly tightened. No way. He wasn’t tonguing her.

She attempted to close her thighs, but the damned things had a mind of their own. Her legs spread wider, welcoming him inside while her breath panted out as if she were a bitch in heat. His fingers stretched her swollen pussy lips, exposing her inflamed clit. Cream dripped onto his fingers and the green felt table beneath her as he lowered his head.

Looking up at her face, he opened his mouth. His tongue came out, over his lips, easing toward her cunt, and then slicing right down its center.

“Ohmigawd!” Her nails dug into the soft, sweaty flesh of her palms. He was every bit as good at oral sex as she remembered. Every bit as good at making her want in a rash, crazy, mindless way she’d never wanted before.

From between his fingers, her clit stood at attention, puffy and red, silently begging to be sucked. As if he could hear that begging, his lips closed over the overly sensitized pearl and tugged. Erotic sensation crashed through her in a tumultuous wave. She swallowed her desperate moan for more.

Dusty’s lips lifted. In the next instant, his tongue pushed deeply inside her, and she knew she couldn’t silence further moans. And why should she? The pulsing in her pussy said that this was it.

The night. The time. The end of her orgasm virginity. Amen.

Liz hadn’t wanted to share this momentous occasion with Dusty, but she’d already come to terms with karma’s warped sense of humor. She might as well come to terms with the fact that he could tell how eager she was to do him and voice the need cruising through her body.

“You owe me an orgasm.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as if her entire body and the majority of her sanity didn’t hinge on the words. “Give it to me now. Fuck me.”

He pulled from her body and laughed. “Only ’cause you asked so nicely.”

“What can I say, I’m a regular Ms. Manners,” she bit out, and then dove her fingers into his hair, clinging, gripping, pushing his face back between her thighs.

His tongue plunged into her juicy center. Deep. Deeper. In. Out. Back in. His goatee scraped over her clit with each stab of his tongue. Warmth spread over her like wildfire, coiling in her belly, licking at her pussy, blistering from head to toe. Tremors sliced through her, slowly at first, then growing in speed, spreading tension from limb to limb, sending her heart into a chaotic thundering tempo.

Oh yes! Oh yes! She wanted to laugh, cry, scream. Thank the orgasm gods for gifting her with this moment. Closing her eyes, she went with the latter.

Dusty had found it. He had to have found her missing G-spot because she was so close…so damned close…climax. The big O. Finally.

Fiona and Kristi were going to be sooo jealous come the next chat session. Sure they had orgasms, but never with a man. Not even Simon, Fi’s king-sized vibrator of a lover, could possibly top this all-consuming feeling of needing to go off like a bottle rocket on the Fourth of July. But enough about Fiona and Kristi. Coming was all that should be on her mind. Nothing else. Not her vow to never sleep with Dusty again. Not feeling like a slut because—

“Yo, Dusty. Everything’s cleaned up in the back. Can I take—oh, shit. Sorry, man. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”

The masculine voice washed over Liz’s heated body like ice water on a sultry summer night. Time and place returned to her in a heartbeat. She snapped her eyes open. Heat burned her cheeks, and disgust roiled through her belly at the sight of Dusty pulling his blond head from between her naked thighs; his head that she held on to so firmly it was as if she planned to keep him nestled there forever.

With shaking hands, she let free his hair and digested the last several minutes.

Jesus H. Christ! What the hell had she been thinking?

She was half-naked on a pool table, being eaten out where anyone could see her, and why, but for pleasure’s sake. For the lone reason of going off like a cream-filled atomic bomb, she’d lowered herself to her mother’s standards, forgotten every one of her ethics and acted like a sex-driven whore with a man she couldn’t stand.

Dusty stood and looked over his shoulder. “No problem. Go ahead and take off.”

“Have a good one,” the guy said, amusement in his voice.

“I’ll do my best.”

The kitchen door banged shut, announcing the man’s departure. Dusty hesitated a few seconds, then turned to her. Lust blazed over his face, consuming his features as he lowered back between her thighs.

Liz’s repulsion over their behavior shifted from herself to him. He was every bit as into the moment as he’d been before they’d been interrupted, and that just proved he didn’t have a single moral in his body. Knowing his track record, he’d probably forgotten who he was with long ago. More likely, he’d never cared in the first place.

Admittedly, for a short while there, she hadn’t cared either, but she for damned sure should have. She sure as shit cared now, when she’d reclaimed enough sense to remember she was as close to an atomic orgasm bomb as he was to a saint.

Grabbing a handful of his hair, she yanked. “Unless you want a pool stick shoved up your ass, get the hell off me.”

His attention shifted from her crotch to her face. His eyebrows came together, and his hot look faded to disbelief. “You’re fucking with me. You don’t want me to stop.”

She leaned to the side and grabbed the pool stick resting against the end of the table. She waved it at him. “Touch me again and you’ll see how much I’m fucking with you. You had your chance, Marr. You blew it.”

Dusty straightened and took a step back. “I didn’t blow a damned thing. You were about to come before Matt came out of the back.” He glanced back at her crotch and smirked. “Way you’re dripping, it’s clear you still want to.”

With a raucous laugh, she snapped her thighs together and pushed off the table, smoothing the dress down unsteady legs. “Get over yourself. The only reason I’m wet is because I have a real man waiting for me outside. One who knows how to get the job done.”

He stared at her a moment, then said, “You honestly have a guy outside while you’re in here letting me go down on you?” She nodded, and he shook his head. “You’re an even bigger nutcase than I thought.”

Self-loathing slid through Liz. She hated the way he was looking at her—as if she was deplorable for getting with two men in one night. She held little doubt he’d done the same with women many times. For the sake of her reputation, bogus though it might be, she cast aside her unease. “Maybe so, but at least I won’t be relying on my own hand to get me off tonight.”