“
Grrrr,..
bastard
!” Carrie hissed loudly, as she heaved breaths.
Chris unclicked his belt and got on his knees to look at her over the seat. “Mom, what’s wrong with you?” he asked with concern, and Dylan barely managed to stop the laughter that bubbled up his throat. “You getting that Tourette’s or something? I’ve never heard you curse so much.”
“Sit down, Chris,” he said, then glanced in the mirror at Zane. The Aussie definitely wasn’t paying attention to his fellow vanilla-scented passenger back there now. It looked like he was barely holding onto his own cookies. “We’re about to make our next turn.”
Dylan continued the torture of his backseat passengers until he pulled up in the driveway at the New Hope Ranch. By that time, both of them were sweating like whores in church, and Zane had rolled down the window to hang outside.
Dylan had considered putting on the window lock, but even he couldn’t be that cruel. And he hadn’t wanted to clean out the back of his truck.
But damn he was a happy man, when he finally killed the engine and saw Sharon and Billy waving at them from the front porch of their ranch house. Billy was right, it didn’t take his fists to solve his problems. All it took, was a little heat, and a pair of vibrating panties.
“Hey! Is that a mechanical bull?” Chris asked with excitement, pointing out of the windshield at the bull near the barn.
“Yeah, it is. That’s how I learned to ride
broncs and bulls. We have one at the R & R too, so you can practice on weekends too.”
“That is so
fuc—“ he started, but Dylan pinned him with a heated glare.
“If you don’t like the taste of soap, I suggest you purge those words from your vocabulary. Sharon hates it,” Dylan warned. “I learned
that the hard way.”
“Um, yes, sir,” Chris said looking down at his hands, which were twisting in his lap. Dylan elbowed him. “You’re going to love them. They’re awesome folks, but they don’t take crap from
badasses like us.”
Chris’ shoulders raised, and he smiled at Dylan. “Gotcha. I’ll be good.”
“Can we please get out?” Carrie asked breathlessly, nudging Zane in the kidneys. That’s the only place she could reach, because the big cowboy’s ass was in her face. For the last twenty miles he’d been hanging out of the window puking.
Carrie
was so wet, her shorts were practically soaked through at the crotch. She was almost afraid to get out of the truck because someone might notice. From the heat in the backseat, her shirt was also stuck to her body, and her hair was stuck to her head. A puddle of sweat gathered at the band of her bra. Her skin felt cooked, but her insides were raw.
And Dylan Thomas knew it.
Was enjoying it, if his secret smile for her in the rearview before he got out of the truck was any indication. Asshole. Because of him, her whole body was a buzzing mass of sexual frustration. Her insides itched, and she would pay good money to have that glass dildo she’d never used in her hand right about now. At this moment, she knew exactly what a cat in heat felt like, and she couldn’t say it was pleasant.
The only reason she’d bought those damned toys was to try and spice up her marriage. Right before he was killed, she and Sean hadn’t had sex in a month.
The last time they’d tried, he had a problem. Carrie thought it was because she was boring him, so she’d gotten online and found those toys and bought some sexy lingerie. The descriptions on the toys had scared her a little, but she was desperate. So like a kid in a candy store, she went way overboard on her purchases, got yelled at for her trouble, and the toys had never been used.
Carrie
wished like hell she wouldn’t have added these damned vibrating panties to the shopping cart at the last minute on a whim. But never in her wildest imagination would she think they’d be used on her as a sexual torture device by an angry, frustrated cowboy who was blackmailing her into wearing them.
Dylan Thomas couldn’t be any more frustrated than she was right now.
During that endless drive, he’d brought her to the brink of orgasm five times. Five times, he’d left her hanging. On purpose. To torture her. Carrie didn’t know how much more she could take. Maybe she would go into the bathroom here, and discreetly finish herself off.
Or take off the damned panties.
No, Dylan had been serious. At least she thought he had been. Carrie wasn’t brave enough to test him. If she was wrong, her kids would know, Terri and Joel would know, she would be humiliated, and they would all think she was some kind of sexual deviant.
Lord, if her parents found out
, they would probably disown her. When she’d moved back in with them, she hadn’t even thought about that black bag in her closet. She had been so distraught over losing her house, and the situation with Chris, she hadn’t been thinking at all, or she would’ve just thrown it all in the trash.
But right now she had no choice but to wear the panties, and let Dylan Thomas do his worst to her
. This was about Chris. After what Dylan Thomas was doing to her, his recommendation to leave her son didn’t leave her feeling warm and fuzzy anymore. She didn’t trust him. She needed to make sure her son would be safe and well-treated here.
Putting her shoulder into it, she pushed Zane Lawrence and he groaned, but he fumbled for the
door handle, then slid out of the truck. She scooted to the edge of the seat, and was about to jump when Dylan stepped in front of her to put his hands on her waist.
The smile on his handsome face was almost evil, as h
is fingers dug into her flesh, and his thumbs stroked her midriff near her navel. God, what she wouldn’t do for him to move them just a little lower. He pulled her hips lower, then pinned her to the seat with his body. His hard cock pressed right where she wanted him, at the top of her thighs. Carrie whimpered and moved her hips. Dylan’s hands clamped on her hips to hold her still.
He
leaned his face close to her ear. “You want me to fuck you right here, don’t you?” he taunted, and she felt a tremor in his hands that contradicted his arrogant tone. His teeth closed over her earlobe, and he tugged as he pulled back. Carrie sucked in a sharp breath as pleasure, chased pain through her body. “You wouldn’t care who was watching, if I just pulled down your shorts and put you out of your misery either.” He glanced down at Zane, who was on the ground holding his stomach. “You wouldn’t even care if the Aussie watched, would you?”
His words shocked her already sensory-overloaded brain.
Carrie couldn’t make her tongue work; it was thick and useless in her dry mouth. What shocked her more was he was probably right. She would let him fuck her right here. Right now. That’s how bad she ached.
“Answer me,” he growled nipping her lower lip hard.
A shiver rocked her body, and she hissed, “Yes.”
He chuckled.
“That’s too bad, sweet cheeks.” He put a little space between their bodies, and she fell into his dark, dilated pupils as his eyes met hers. “Because you will have to beg me to fuck you before I give you what you want. You still have miles to go to pay for flirting with that bastard in front of me,” he whispered hotly.
H
e held her gaze, as he slowly slid her down his hard body until her feet touched the ground. He stepped back, then turned, leaving her standing there almost panting, with her legs feeling like they were filled with Jello.
Dylan Thomas
was the bastard. And he had another think coming if he thought she was going to beg him to fuck her. She would be cold and dead in her grave before she begged that man for anything. He could take his little game and go to hell where he belonged.
W
hen she got back to the R & R, Carrie was going to throw away every one of those toys, and get that remote back. If he had no proof they ever existed, he would look like the fool if he came out with that. Nobody would believe him then.
But she’d spent good money on that stuff. Had never even used it.
And dammit, as much as she was loathe to admit it, she was enjoying this game. Too much. As frustrated as she was, she was also more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. Knowing he had control and she couldn’t do a damned thing about it was thrilling to her.
If he’d just let her come once, she’d be okay with the game.
Just once.
But she had other things she needed to focus on right now. Getting her son settled, and meeting the people who would be his guardians for the next ninety days. Chris was more important than her newly activated sex drive.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, Carrie straightened her shoulders and pulled herself together.
A weak
thrump hit her clit and Carrie moaned. “Not now, please not now,” she whispered, as she held onto the truck and made her way to the front. When it didn’t continue, she took her hand off the hood and made three steps toward the porch. A second vibration worked the nerves into a frenzy, then stopped. Moisture flooded her folds, Carrie pinched her knees together and waited. Nothing more came, so she started walking again. Midstride another short buzz zapped her then fled. Hit and miss. Weak pulsations. Not enough to do a damned thing other than irritate her already sensitive nerves.
Her gaze landed on Dylan
, who wasn’t paying her a bit of attention as he engaged in animated conversation with a pretty, soft-featured, gray-haired woman on the front porch. His hands were free. So why the hell were the panties vibrating?
The slow, consistent beats continued, like a slow heartbeat, as she walked across the yard on trembling legs.
By the time she reached the porch, her inner muscles were echoing the vibrations in between the zaps. Somehow she managed to work up some saliva, and wet her mouth enough to speak.
Dylan stopped talking, and turned a sexy, knowing smile on her. “Sharon, this is Chris’
s mother, Carrie.”
Carrie’s body jerked, as she stepped up on the first step. She took a slow, even breath and stuck out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Thank you for helping my son,” she said and her voice trembled as much as her hand.
“Aw, honey that’s not how we do things here,” she said hustling down the steps to grab Carrie in a big hug. So big, she could barely keep the little breath she had managed to draw. “We’re glad to have him here. I think he’s going to fit right in,” she said finally stepping back. Her eyes clouded with sympathy. “I’m sorry you’ve both had such a hard time of things. He seems like he’s a good kid. Losing his father has probably just set him on his ear.”
The caring in the woman’s voice settled all of Carrie’s worries. She huffed out a relieved breath, but then sucked it back in sharply when a buzz hit her between her legs.
Her eyes flew to Dylan, who was grinning. “Not
now
,” she growled. He jumped and shoved his hand into his pocket. The buzzing stopped and Carrie let out her breath again, then turned her attention back to Sharon, who was studying her curiously. Heat rushed up her throat to her face. “I’m sorry, Dylan is just so…”
“Irritating?
Troublesome?” Sharon filled in with a loving glance at him. “I know exactly how this bad boy ticks,” she said warmly, walking over to put her arm around his waist to give him a squeeze. “He was mine for two years, and Lord I thought we’d never come to an understanding. This one is why my hair is gray,” she said with a playful laugh.
“I’m still yours,” Dylan said
, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “If you’ll claim me.”
Carrie felt the love they shared. The respect. Her heart wiggled in her chest, and longing hit her in her gut. Dylan Thomas had the capacity to love. According to him he was thi
rty-two years old. There was no reason he was so adamant about staying single. About only wanting women who were temporary in his life. Evidently, this woman was permanent. He loved her. Even if it wasn’t Carrie, he
could
love someone else. If he’d just let himself be loved.
She hoped Chris didn’t close himself off like Dylan had. That would be tragic.
“Let’s go inside and talk,” Sharon said, walking over to loop her arm through Carrie’s. “Dylan, can you help Billy get Chris settled out in the bunkhouse?”
Evidently he recognized that Sharon wanted to talk to her alone, because with a nod he headed off the porch, then across the yard toward the bunkhouse. “He’s turned into a good
man,” she said as she led Carrie to the screen door. “I’m proud of him.”
Sharon opened
the door so Carrie could go in first, then waved her toward the large, well-worn sofa situated in front of a stone fireplace. Carrie sat down on the end by the arm.
“It could’ve turned out so differently for him. That boy had it rough. I’m glad he finally came around
. Don’t worry, Chris will too,” she said as she turned toward the kitchen. “It’s damned hot outside, and I see you’re sweating. Let me get us some ice tea.”
In her mind, Carrie ran over what she knew about Dylan Thomas. His mother had killed herself, evidently after his father died in the military. His brothers were scattered to the wind. He’d been in trouble as a teenager, and was sent here.
Sharon and Billy, New Hope, had saved him. Turned him into a good man.