Raising Kane (Rough Riders #9)(53)

She giggled.


Damn her and that charming, girlish giggle.


“I’ve never done it in a pickup before.”


“As a dedicated, lifelong pickup owner, it’s my sworn duty to show you the kinky pleasures of the flesh that can be performed in a pickup, while tryin’ to avoid bangin’ your head into the steering wheel, and smackin’ your ass into the dash.” He grinned. “It’ll be all kinds of fun poppin’ your pickup cherry, sugar.”


“Okay. Lunch. Tomorrow. Here. We’ll save the truck rendezvous for another time. Will one o’clock work?”


“Be here with a hard-on.” He pulled her closer and teased her mouth with his until her lips trembled.


Then he kissed her soundly and released her. “I’ve gotta hit the road.”


At the door he switched out his ball cap for his cowboy hat. He rolled up the cap and stuck it in the inside pocket of his coat.


“Hayden was pretty insistent you needed a new hat. I’m glad you liked it.”


“I like everything he gives me. He’s thoughtful. Not many kids his age are.”


Ginger smooched his chin. “You are thoughtful too, Kane McKay.”


“Must be because mine and Hayden’s mamas raised us right.”


“Such a silver tongue. See you tomorrow, cowboy. Drive safe.”


“Night, Red.”


On Monday, Ginger had been so frantic to get her hands on him that Kane had found himself flat on his back, in the middle of her bed, with Ginger going to town on him like a Pony Express rider—almost before he’d even said hello. He went with it, because hey, there were worse things than a smokin’ hot woman moaning his name and bouncing on his pole until he came. But she seemed to have forgotten his


“in charge” rule and he intended to remind her on their next lunch date.


So Wednesday, he brought his handcuffs. At first Ginger balked at being bound, even slightly. He’d waited for her to accept his control by spending several long minutes just kissing her bare arms. Sucking on her fingers like he sucked on her nipples. Once he’d earned her trust and promised not to tickle her, she relaxed.


Kane spent half their allotted time toying with her breasts, just because he could, just because it made her crazy, made her wet. After he’d wrung one orgasm from her, he straddled her chest and f*cked those luscious tits, sliding his dick in the tight valley until he couldn’t hold back. He finished by jacking off on her chest and belly, fighting the urge to roar with male satisfaction at seeing her marked with his seed. Then he settled between her legs and sucked on her clit until she screamed.


Yeah, the counselor was a little late getting back to the office that day.


On Friday, Kane had walked into Ginger’s house and saw her naked on the living room rug, getting herself off with a vibrator. After witnessing the live floorshow of her oh-so-sexy act of self-pleasure, he stripped and f*cked her, right there on the floor. Twice.


Then he’d confiscated her vibrator, knowing the weekend loomed without the prospect of another naked lunch. He informed her that if he wasn’t getting off, neither was she.


Lunch was becoming his favorite part of the day.


When five o’clock rolled around the following Friday, Ginger gathered her paperwork and separated the piles into appropriate folders.


A knock sounded and her assistant, Rissa, poked her head in. “I’m going. Need anything else?”


“I’m good. Have a great weekend.”


“You too.”


She sagged deeper into her chair. She had another splitting headache. The other symptoms had been building all week and she faced the truth. The little sniffle she’d noticed last weekend wasn’t a simple cold; it’d morphed into a full-blown sinus infection.


She’d never suffered from allergies as a kid, nor as an adult, and she’d gone through the various allergy tests along with Hayden, mostly to allay his fears that the tests didn’t hurt. Her tests had come out negative. Since sinus infections were a recurring problem, Dr. Monroe suggested the dry air and higher elevation wreaked havoc on her sinuses because the infections surfaced after she’d relocated to Wyoming.


Ginger called DeWitt’s Pharmacy and ordered the two-week cycle of antibiotics Doc Monroe had left on file for her. She was so damn tired. She wanted to go home and crawl in bed. Heck, she’d felt so out of it today she’d sent Kane a text message canceling their lunch date.


Kane McKay. Lord, that man had turned her into a stick of dynamite—one smoldering look or one heated touch from him and that fuse fired. She’d spent the week in a sexual daze. When she wasn’t in the throes of experiencing the combustible, amazingly hot sex, she was thinking about it. Constantly. After he’d confiscated her vibrator, she’d wondered how Kane would kick up the sexual scenarios the following week.


Woo-boy. Kick them up he had.


Monday’s lunch menu consisted of an appetizer of sixty-nine, a position she’d rarely enjoyed until Kane showed her the delicious benefits of mutual pleasure. She’d barely caught her breath from her orgasm while his cock was buried in her mouth, when he flipped her over and f*cked her from behind. He’d kept one hand gripped in her hair, holding her head in place, and the other hand curled around her hip, ordering her to rub her clit until she came. His sexual aggressiveness allowed her to unlock a side of herself she’d been too tired, too afraid to access. Kane didn’t exploit that compliant part of her; he used it to take her—them—to new sexual heights.