Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (27 page)

His teeth flashed white as he stripped his shirt off. His carved chest and abs tormented her. Was it possible he looked broader, the cuts of muscle made deeper by shadow? Her mouth watered.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll never last, woman.”

A smile spread over her face and coated her heart too. “Your woman.”

“For-fucking-ever.” He slammed his mouth over hers, licking, tasting, lapping at her until she thought she’d die from the pressure building in her core.

Dark need made her wrap her legs around his waist. She brought her pussy against his cock. The barrier of their jeans was too much for both of them. He rolled off and fought the denim off his hips, then hers. When they lay bare under the open sky, he covered her with his body once again.

“I have a whole basket full of condoms.” He nipped at her breast, plucking the bud with his teeth.

She gasped and encircled the base of his cock with her fingers. He growled. “What else is in that basket?”

“Fruit, champagne. Chocolate.”

Her smile widened. “You were really prepared to woo me.”

His dark eyes burned into her. “It’s going to be our breakfast.” With that, he rocked his cock between her thighs, skimming her wet folds. His velvety length was blissful torture. She shifted restlessly, trying to angle him perfectly to slide in. But he resisted.

“Get one of those condoms out, baby doll. I have something to take care of.” He slid down her body. When he pressed her legs apart and fanned her soaking pussy with his breath, she quivered with need.

For the past week she’d fantasized about his mouth, lips, tongue on her sensitive nub. He dragged his tongue from bottom to top through her slick folds. When he reached her clit, he opened his mouth and applied pressure to it.

She bucked. He pinned her to the blanket and lashed her straining nubbin with his tongue. Her pussy contracted, and more cream oozed out. She tangled her fingers in the hair on his nape and guided him.

Pressure built. Over the length of her body, his dark eyes glimmered. She watched his tongue circle her clit. Each rotation sent her sailing higher. Her inner thigh muscles shook.

He reached up her body and closed his rough fingers over each nipple. Twisting them perfectly, he licked her hard nubbin. She stared at the sky. The stars blurred in her vision. Her rasping breaths grew louder until she was screaming with each blissful stroke of his tongue.

Being out here alone, they were more uninhibited than ever. And knowing they’d come back here each year only made her heart fuller.

He pinched her nipples hard. Her body throbbed. Peaked. Waves crashed over her. Her pussy pulsated under his mouth as he drove her on with his sweet torment.

She rocked against him. He released one nipple and thrust two fingers deep in her channel, extending her orgasm. When he curled his fingers against her G-spot, she nearly rocketed upward again.

He lifted his head and gave her nipple one last strum. But he kept his fingers buried in her sheath. “Fucking hell. Damn.”

His curses were the best love words she could ask for.

“Your turn,” she whispered, grabbing his shoulders.

When she pulled him up the length of her body, he removed his fingers. She moaned at the loss, but planned to regain it. Right after she tasted him too.

She tore open the condom packet and kept the rubber ring in her palm. She made Griffin lie on his back so he could look at the stars while she blew his mind.

She moved down his body, kissing and licking the ridges of his abs. As he realized her goal, he wrapped her hair around his fist. “I can’t, baby doll. I’ll never hold off.”

“I won’t let you go that far. I just want a taste.” She licked her lips slowly, and a muscle jumped in the crease of his jaw.

He released her hair but kept his warm fingers on her scalp as she opened her mouth over his erection. The mushroom-shaped head filled up her mouth, and she pushed down on it, taking him right to the root.

“Goddamn fuck.” His abs flexed as he obviously tried to refrain from pounding into her mouth. “Jesus, you’re beautiful. All mine.”

She slid her tongue up and down his shaft, riding a thick vein on the side. She reached the tip and lapped it, letting pre-come string between her tongue and his body.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t take any more.”

She released his cock and eased the condom over his length. Then she stroked him slowly, rolling the head through her fingers and cupping his balls in her other hand.

“Get up here.” His command made her smile.

“Wait. I just want to—” She dipped her head and opened her mouth over his balls, sucking his sac gently.

“Motherfuck. Nola.”

She raised her head and ran her tongue over her lips, flavored like him. He issued a growl and yanked her up his body. He positioned her right over his cock and pushed her down with one slick motion.

She moaned as her walls stretched around him. Liquid heat pooled around him. The spot he’d stroked with his fingers throbbed.

“Ride me.”

“I’m a cowgirl at heart.” She rode his length upward then sank over him once more. He gripped her ass and drove her down farther, grinding his hips and cock into her core. She threw her head back and lost herself to the sensation.

Flames of want licked at her insides as he plunged deep, withdrew, then went deeper yet. She clenched her pussy muscles, milking his every inch.

“How can I hold off when you do that to me?” he rasped.

“Don’t. I’m almost there.”

His eyes darkened. She wanted to see that expression in them every day of her life—his love and bald desire.

She pressed her palms against his chest, rising and falling on him. A burst of sudden heat stole her breath.

“That’s it, baby doll. Come for me.” He ground his hips again. His cock passed over the exquisite pressure point.

She fell forward as ecstasy threatened to tear her in half. When he stroked her clit with his thumb, she lost control.

Pleasure curled and broke in her. She met his gaze, tumbling in the dark waters of his love. Juices soaked him. He stiffened, his movements more erratic. Then extreme bliss passed over his rugged features, and he came with a shout.

Liquid warmth filled her. She continued to move over him, stroking long, primal moans from him. Satisfaction spread through her chest.

He slid his arms around her and pulled her so she lay atop him. She went boneless in his hold. Her stuttering breaths slowed. He traced a path down her spine then back up. Each languid pass made her sleepier. She couldn’t wait to watch the sun come up with him. And to eat that decadent breakfast.

She smiled against his skin.

A whoosh sounded, and light flared. They jerked and looked up in time to see a ball of flame around one of the Mason jar candles. White light imprinted itself on her retinas, and she blinked.

“What is that?” she asked.

His voice sounded odd. “I think it’s your shirt.”

Hysterical laughter claimed her as she watched her designer top go up in flames. When he’d thrown it, he’d obviously sent it arcing too close to the jar. Griffin shook under her with his own laughter.

“I always knew you wanted to keep me naked on your ranch, but this is ridiculous.” She giggled.

He sobered, staring up at her. Light from her inflamed shirt danced in his eyes.

He lifted her chin. “That song was meant to be sung by you.” His words were a rough caress that raised the hair on her body. He enveloped her in his arms again, and they lay together until the candles extinguished and her shirt turned to ash. Only happiness remained.

Epilogue

A collective “awwwwwww” echoed through the small Reedy church as Lyric toddled down the aisle. Her puffy white dress churned around her chubby legs, and a few flowers were crushed in her fist.

Nola sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the little blue cowgirl boots Lyric wore treading away from her. This was it. Somehow they’d managed to keep the wedding private, admitting only one trusty Reedy photographer who would capture her and Griffin’s love. Later he’d sell the pictures to the press. But at least Nola had achieved her goal of not having a bodyguard walk her down the aisle.

Her father beamed at her. His sharp tuxedo fit him impeccably, but the pride in his eyes made him truly handsome. He offered his arm. “Ready, Nola?”

She nodded, her throat suddenly clogged off. She gripped the full skirt of her gown, revealing the toes of her blue boots, and pivoted to face the congregation. Ahead of her Molly practically sashayed down the aisle in a lush satin gown of ice blue. The crowd was on their feet.

Nola’s heart fluttered as she raised her gaze, seeking the one person who lit her universe. The notes to “One Lyric” erupted from the organ. It had taken old Mrs. McAllen two full weeks of practice to learn the song, but Nola was thrilled with the outcome.

A smile so wide it made her cheeks ache claimed her face as she set eyes on Griffin. He beamed from the altar, flanked by Taylor and holding Lyric in one arm. The baby fussed with his bowtie, but he didn’t remove his gaze from Nola.

As she drifted up the aisle, past the people who had watched her grow up—helped her grow up—and put her hand into Griffin’s, she’d never known such elation. At one time she’d thought she couldn’t be happy with anything but her dream of becoming a country music singer.

But somehow Molly’s notions of being a good wife, of standing by her man, had rubbed off on Nola. Or maybe she’d always possessed these dreams. Either way, she realized she could have both dreams.

“You look beautiful,” Griffin rumbled into her ear.

She trailed a finger over the rough, dark hair on his jaw. “You’re the fairy tale.”

About the Author

Em Petrova lives in backwoods Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and a Labradoodle puppy named Daisy Hasselhoff and pays too damn much for utilities. She loves to write gritty characters with lots of heart and is well-known for scorching, panty-soaking erotic romance.

You can find her at
www.empetrova.com
or holding parties here on Facebook:
www.facebook.com/em.petrova
.

Look for these titles by Em Petrova

Now Available:

Country Fever

Hard Ridin’

Lip Lock

Unbroken

Coming Soon:

Bootknockers

Pushin’ Buttons

It’ll take more than rope to tie down the man they love.

Unbroken

© 2013 Em Petrova

Country Fever, Book 3

When Christian comes out of the bar to find a bat-wielding country girl beating the hell out of his best friend Tucker’s truck, he does the only thing he can—he flirts with her. Unfortunately, he knows her pain—he’s in love with Tucker too.

Claire plans to nurse her bruised heart alone, but inevitably Tucker draws her back in—along with Christian—and the three of them tumble headlong into delirious passion. Then she and Christian wake to find that Tucker has fled his horse ranch, leaving them to care for the animals and each other.

Still grieving the death of his fiancée, pressured to sign over mining rights to a coal company, Tucker is boots-deep in emotional turmoil. Running only sharpens his longing for what he truly wants—Christian and Claire in his bed, in the barn, and under the stars.
 

But roping themselves firmly inside the circle of love will take everything they have—bulldogged determination, flying fists and aching hearts.

Warning: Wrangle one heartsick cowboy, and the man and woman who love him. Throw in weeks of working in close quarters, bales of pent-up lust, and feel the burn of prairie-fire-hot desire. Now just try to walk away with your heart unbranded.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Unbroken:

The bartender tucked a hand under the brim of his cowboy hat and peered across the dim space through the grimy window of The Hellion.

Christian Davis grunted. “You gonna hand over that six-pack of Budweiser before I hit middle age, Shady?”

A few sharp metallic
clinking
noises sounded from the parking lot. Shady’s thick white mustache twitched as he winced. Three more sharp raps and Christian turned to follow the bartender’s gaze.

“You drivin’ that big ass Ram truck, Davis?”

“Uh, yeah.” He ducked his head, trying to get out of the shadow of his Stetson and see what the hell was going on in the parking lot.

The grating sound of glass breaking filtered into Christian’s senses just as he spotted her.

“Looks as if you’ve got a jilted lover taking her frustrations out on your truck with a Louisville Slugger.”

Adrenaline surged to the tips of his boots. “That’s not my truck!” he managed as he swung out the door without a care for his beer.