Authors: Mechele Armstrong
Tags: #Erotic Contemporary
Dear Rose 2:
Dear Rose 2: Winter’s Dare
Copyright © November 2013 by Mechele Armstrong
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Editor: Antonia Pearce
Cover Artist: Dar Albert
Published in the United States of America
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Kiki Frost is still who Rose Winter aspires to be, and Rose dedicates this book to her and all drag queens out there and their alter egos.
Devyn watched as Neo, a dancer from Rose’s male revue, slipped behind the bar, probably to get some loving from his main squeeze. He was done with his dancing duties so was off Rose’s clock and as Devyn was Rose, he didn’t care what Neo did. Rose was Devyn’s drag alter ego, and as Rose, he did shows all around town. Neo wrapped his arms around Phil, the bartender, and their lips met in a frenzy of deep kisses. Or maybe Devyn did care because Rose had brought the two reluctant lovers together.
Thank Rose for that, bitches. Thank Rose.
He took a sip of his drink. He’d had a successful first run, and Neo and Phil were proof of that. He’d manipulated the two of them together in the first phase of a bet he’d made with his lover, Carl.
Carl slid into the seat beside him. “Don’t get cocky.” He thoughtfully stroked his chin.
“But I thought you liked me cocky.” He waggled his brows at his lover. “Or cock up would be a more appropriate description.”
Carl shook his head. He started to motion to Phil for a drink, but Phil was otherwise occupied, so Carl just turned to Devyn. “This was the easy one.”
“They are all going to be easy. For Rose. That bitch can do anything.” Devyn took another sip of his drink. Carl and he had bet that Rose could bring three different relationships together. And Devyn aka Rose had been successful on the first try. To win the bet, Rose would have to get all three relationships started.
“They were two guys. Like us. Homosexuals.” That word sounded strange dropping off Carl’s tongue. “The next two aren’t going to be as easy.”
“Pfffft.” Devyn placed his hand on Carl’s knee and squeezed. “Sure they will be. Rose is in the zone.”
“What do you know about heterosexual couples?” Carl gave him a look that said how much Carl thought he knew. “You’ve never been in one.”
“I’ve never been to China either. But I know it’s there, and I know bits about the culture. Couples are couples. They aren’t that much different whether they are gay or straight.” Devyn stretched out a hand. “It’s why the marriage regulations are so stupid.”
“Hmmm.” Carl shook his head. “I don’t understand getting married and all that public display anyway for either gays or straights.” He turned away from Devyn. “Never have.”
“You’d better get your tux on order. And invest in some hair-growing shampoo. Because I’m going to win this bet. You will be marrying me and growing your hair long.” Devyn had accomplished one of the three things he had to do to win the bet, and he didn’t intend to stop until he’d done all three. Devyn as Rose Winter, drag queen extraordinaire, had the opportunity to write a love-advice column for a local paper. Carl hadn’t been enthusiastic about Rose taking the job. So Rose/Devyn had made the bet with Carl. If Devyn won, Carl had to grow his hair out and get married to Devyn. If Carl won, Rose had to do a benefit concert of Aretha Franklin songs, and he’d drop the subject of marriage. The concert he was going to do anyway. Rose was about to embark upon getting the second relationship together.
Carl leaned in to press a kiss on his lips. “I haven’t seen you this serious about something not performing related in a long time.”
Devyn kissed him back, getting lost in the embrace. “You know me. What I want, I get.”
Tucker let out a long exaggerated snore that would have shaken the timbers of Ally’s apartment if she’d had any timbers. She doubted drywall and plastic counted. She resisted the urge to poke his flat stomach. It would make him stop snoring. But it would also wake him up and a woken-up-before-his-time-to-get-up Tucker wasn’t a pleasant Tucker.
Not to mention he’d want sex.
She clapped her thighs together, putting pressure on that so-needy part of her that sold her out most days. She tingled there. Deliciously.
But not as deliciously as last night.
So why exactly was she not waking up the man taking up most of her double bed? She crinkled her nose, looking at the guy spread-eagle in front of her.
He was big. Monstrous big as Devyn liked to say. He was too rough looking to be beautiful. He had a square-cut chin with a scar in the center of it. His brown hair was a little shaggy. He didn’t like haircuts but never let it get to rocker length, much to her relief. One hard-as-a-rock leg poked from the covers on the side of the blanket. He had a broad chest with muscles that rippled when he walked. Construction definitely did his body good, though he was supervising most days instead of working in the trenches.
A philosophy major turned carpenter. Who would have thought? He could wax poetic about the lightness of being, all the while pounding in a nail.
Or pounding in you.
She reached over and poked him in the stomach, breaking the seesaw of his snore in midsaw.
He jerked awake, much like a baby in startle reflex. “Hey!” He took the leg that was out of the covers and yanked it back in, frowning all the time. His features had pulled up into an almost glare. “What was that for?”
“You were snoring.” She slid the sheet over her small yet perky boobs and batted her lashes innocently at him.
“Yeah, I’m not buying the innocent look, Al. It so doesn’t become you. What do ya want?” He stretched from the top of his head down to his toes, flexing each muscle in turn.
“Oh please.” She ignored the burning in her belly. The roasting of her loins. His show didn’t get her motor revving, despite what her traitorous body seemed to think.
“What?” He turned toward her, resting up on his elbow. His blue eyes glittered in the low light. They were so clear, like a sunny day sky with no clouds.
“That doesn’t impress me.” She kept her voice light and casual. It was a conversation they’d had many times before.
“What are you talking about?” He continued to stare at her.
“You flexing. You do it to impress women. I’ll never forget you trying to pick up those girls at the party. You knocked a picture off the wall, all because you were flexing your arms.” She shook her head. The frame and glass had broken into pieces. She’d had to help him pick up the glass. She would have thought the two bimbos he’d been trying to bedazzle would have helped, but no, it had fallen to her.
“Now who would I be trying to impress here?” He arched a brow at her. “’Cause I know it won’t impress you.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t.” She tried to look as nonchalant as she could. Okay, she might be into brains not brawn, but that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate a good body. And Tucker had been endowed with one of the best. Lying there in her bed, yeah, he looked scrumptious.
His eyes darkened as he looked at her. They became bedroom eyes. She’d heard them mentioned but hadn’t understood what the romance novels talked about until she met Tucker. He rolled over so quickly, she let out a gasp. He pinned her to the bed with that big body she’d just been admiring.
“Tucker.” She thumped his chest. He was more solid than melons at the grocery store. There was no satisfying hollow thump. Instead there was a solid-sounding
. “I have to go soon.”
He lifted his head, his eyes melting her. “We can finish soon.” He lowered his mouth and nipped at her lips with his ever-so-gentle teeth.
“Tucker. I. Have. To. Go.” Each word got weaker with each brush of his lips against hers. His tongue crept out to play, sliding against hers and making delicious circles. She’d known this was going to happen when she woke him up. That he’d probably wake up wanting a quickie. Must have meant she wanted it too. What did it signify she could predict what he was going to do, and even when she decided she didn’t want it, she did it anyway? She had no idea.
He shifted against her, pressing his body against hers. Clicking into place like some lockset that just worked with each other. He let out a muffled curse and shifted back up again. “We’d save time if you’d just sleep in the nude. Like me.” He pulled up her nightgown and managed to get it over her head without strangling her. “And we’d definitely save time if you went commando.” A flick of his fingers and her bikini underwear slipped down her legs and over her feet.
And she was naked.
And so was he.
He rubbed all that skin over the entirety of her body. Nipped at her throat with lips that knew exactly how to kiss her. To make her pant. To make her beg.
He moved slowly against her. Touching her in all the right ways. Kissing her senseless. He palmed a breast before lowering his head to lap at a nipple.
She arched her back. He knew what that did to her. She was wet and wanting. He’d made her that way.
Dammit, this wasn’t a quickie.
And he knew that too.
Tucker did everything on his time schedule. Lovemaking was no different. He’d known he wasn’t going to make it quick.
Not lovemaking. All they ever had was sex, sex, sex.
He shifted down on the bed and pressed her knees apart with his firm hand despite her trying to keep them together. After a second, he grabbed the other knee. “Ally.”
“I have to work, you know. I’m going to be late.” Never mind she set her own hours. She had to be an example, didn’t she? “Tucker.”
“Open for me, Ally.” He continued pushing against her legs. And those gentle hands, which could operate any machinery and lift any amount of wood, slowly pried her legs apart. He let out deep sigh, looking at the regions that only her gynecologist and lovers saw. “So beautiful.” He blew a breath between her legs, the air catching the hair and rippling down into her pussy.
His lips would be warm and willing. His tongue was like ambrosia from the gods, delivering pleasure ungodly.
She could imagine everything. He’d done it before. “Tucker.” Another token protest. Because Tucker always got what he wanted. And when he wanted to give her pleasure, that was even better. She tried to bring her knees back up, and he forced them apart again.