Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders #15)(117)

“That’s it.” Dalton dragged openmouthed kisses down her throat as she sucked and swallowed. “Fucking love that you’re a dirty girl. Sucking your come from my fingers. So crazy to f*ck me that you drag me into a damn storage closet.” He wiggled his fingers free from her mouth and smashed their lips together in a mind-bending, orgasm-inducing kiss.


He broke free long enough to demand, “Jump up and hold on.”


One leg up, both legs up and then her thighs were circling his waist.


Dalton pressed her against the cold cement wall with the sheer strength in his body. Holding her ass cheeks in his hands, he tilted her pelvis and plowed in to the hilt.


Her nails dug into his shoulders. Each powerful snap of his hips had her clinging to him more tightly, gasping more loudly.


The only noises coming out of his mouth were grunts and labored breaths. The heat from his chest seeped through her shirt making her wish for better skin on skin contact. Then his hips started the side-to-side grinding motion.


“This’ll get you there. Move on me. Take it. I’m so close I won’t last much longer.”


“Know what’ll get me there?”


“What?”


“Whisper dirty things in my ear.”


“You like that?” he asked, slamming into her. “When I tell you this hot, wet cunt is sucking on my cock like you do when you deep throat me? My cock is so slippery with your juices they’re running down my leg.” He let his tongue trace the shell of her ear. “Hottest f*cking thing in the world would be to see you on your knees lapping up that sweet juice on the inside of my thigh and then that wicked tongue of yours licking my dick clean.”


“Oh God. Faster.”


“You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you, dirty girl?”


“Yes. Please just…” Rory threw her head back as the throbbing in her groin started, pulsing around Dalton’s shaft from her clit rubbing against the hard ridge of his pubic bone.


“Fuck, I’m done.” Dalton drove in one last time.


Her tissues were so sensitive, still tingling from her climax, that she felt every hot spurt shooting from his cock.


He shuddered in her arms. This man gave her his all every time, in so many ways.


Dalton leaned back and locked his gaze to hers. “I guess a date playing ping pong is more romantic than I gave it credit for.”


Chapter Twenty-Seven


Dalton was finishing his second cup of coffee at seven a.m. when he heard the knock on the door. He half-expected to see Rory standing on the steps. Holding a box of doughnuts and wearing that I-want-to-bang-you smile. But the grin he had in place vanished at seeing Brandt and Tell on the other side of the door.


“What?”


They pushed past him and they faced each other in the entryway. Both his brothers looked like hell.



His gut tightened and he repeated, “What happened?”


“Dad had another stroke sometime last night. And…” Brandt closed his eyes.


And Dalton knew before Tell said, “He didn’t make it.”


The words hung between them.


Did he feel sad? Guilty? Angry? Relieved?


No. He felt f*cking numb. Like this was some sort of trick and they’d go to the rehab hospital and Casper would be sitting there, glaring at them, with his fooled-you-boys-again look on his face. So Dalton didn’t say anything, lest he say the wrong thing.


“The hospital called me on my cell about five-thirty this morning when I was out feeding cattle.” Brandt scrubbed his hand over his razor-stubble jaw. “They found him in bed and it, ah, appeared he’d died a few hours earlier.”


Dead dead dead dead dead, kept echoing in Dalton’s brain.


“Brandt caught me right after I finished chores and we thought we’d better tell you in person.”


He nodded. Say something. “I’ve got coffee on.” He led them into the kitchen and poured two cups. “So what now?”


“We gotta call the uncles. Three of us, three of them.”


Dalton didn’t want to do that. Why couldn’t Brandt do it? He was the oldest.


“I figured we’d talk about who’s calling Mom. I guess I’d better call Barbara Jean too.”


Silence.


Dead dead dead dead dead.


Stop. It.


“Dalton? Did you say something?”


His head snapped up. “Nope.”


Brandt drained his coffee. “Ain’t gonna get any easier if we put it off. I’ll call Carson, Tell, you call Cal, and Dalton call Charlie.” Then Brandt pulled out his cell phone.


“Wait a second. What are we supposed to stay? That Casper is dead and we’ll be in touch?” Dalton asked.


“He has a point, Brandt.”


“Let them know that’s all the information we have for now, we haven’t even been to the funeral home yet.”


Dead dead dead dead dead.


“I don’t have Uncle Charlie’s number,” Dalton said.