Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders #15)(99)

She sighed. “All right.” Hooking her fingers in the stretchy waistband, she slowly tugged the shorts down, watching as the tip of his cock bounced against his lower belly. He hadn’t worn a jockstrap.


“Word of advice, sugarplum? You frowning at my dick ain’t instilling any confidence in me.”


Her eyes met his. “Sorry. Just wondering if you ever wear a jockstrap or a cup when you’re working out?”


“Jesus. Really?”


“Yeah, why? Is that a weird question? Because I seriously don’t know about these man things—no dad growing up, remember? And since your body is so buff, that means you work out a lot, so I just wondered.”


“Such a curious kitty. Yeah, sometimes I wear a jock. Depends on what I’m doin’ in the gym and what workout shorts I’m wearing.” He ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “Satisfied?”


“Yep. But sometime, I wanna see you model them. I’d probably really love how the straps frame this tight little ass of yours.” Rory yanked his shorts to his ankles and licked his shaft from root to tip before opening her lips and swallowing him.


And releasing him.


And swallowing him.


She did that about five times before his big head overruled his little head.


Dalton clamped his hand on her jaw and pulled her off.


Very, very slowly she might add, but hey, who was keeping track?


She was, heh heh heh. Rory ahead by giving head, one to zero.


“Back. Away. From. My. Cock.”


“Never thought I’d hear you say that, big guy.”


He groaned.


Rory rolled to her feet and pointed to the chair. “Get comfy.”


Dalton grabbed a throw pillow off the couch and plopped it on the seat before he sat. “What?” he said defensively at her questioning look. “The seat is wood, you’re gonna be bouncing on my lap and I don’t want my balls to get pinched.”


“Poor balls. I could kiss ’em and make ’em better?” she cooed.


“You’re gonna be doin’ that anyway when I win this lap dance off.” He threw his arms wide. “Bring it on, baby.”


“Hands by your sides, baby, and no touching, remember?” Rory pulled the elastic band, freeing her hair from the ponytail. Shaking it loose so the soft strands swished across his face. Then she peeled off her T-shirt and ditched her sports bra. She kicked her feet out and stretched, keeping her ass right in front of him, knowing he could see her tits swaying as she loosened her muscles.


He cleared his throat. “Topless ain’t fair, Rory.”


“Aw, it’s so cute how you think that’ll matter. Because you’re goin’ down.” She looked over her shoulder at him and smirked. “Literally. You’re gonna go down on me for two hours straight after I win this lap dance.”


“Be a little hard for me to have my mouth on your * when my dick is gonna be buried in your sweet ass when I win.”


She laughed and leaned over to turn on her iPod.


The first strains of Santana’s “Smooth” drifted through the speakers and Rory started out with her back to him. Arms above her head. Ass swishing over his crotch, the end of her hair teasing his chest. She ground down on him a little harder each time. Feeling that hard cock twitching and jerking against the lower curve of her butt cheeks.


Dalton’s heavy breathing echoed to her even over the sounds of the music.


A wave of want rolled through her. Yes, she wanted to win this contest, but mostly because she wanted to know that she—the way she moved, the way she teased him—turned him on as much as her mouth or her hand on his cock. She loved the byplay between them. The tension in his body. The heat in his eyes. All for her.



He groaned when she cupped her own breasts. And arched her back against his chest.


Then Rory sat on his right thigh and placed her hands flat on the floor, dragging her * up and down that rigid muscle. The cant of her hips showcased her ass. She arched and rolled like a cat, each pass making her * wet and her nipples harder. She stood and pressed her butt against his chest as she leaned into a forward bend with her hands around his shins.


“Holy hell, you’re flexible.”


“All the better to use my body to twist you into knots.” Rory mounted his other leg and rolled and shimmied. Her hair swinging, her booty bouncing, sweat started to bead on her skin.


His deep voice cut through her concentration. “I can feel how hot and wet your cunt is. Let me touch you and bring you off.”


“Tempting, cowboy, but I’ve only just started. I’m gonna get a lot wetter and a lot hotter in the next two songs.”


The music ended.


Rory spun around and pressed her * against his shaft when the next song started. The chair’s low proximity to the ground allowed her to raise and lower herself easily, so she kept constant pressure on Dalton’s cock as she moved up and down. And the extra bonus? With her hands on those broad shoulders of his for balance, her tits were in his face. Right in his face.


The sneaky man tried to move his head back, out of range, but she just moved her hands to the back of his neck and held him in place.