Operation G-spot. Jodi Lynn Copeland
case you’ve forgotten, I didn’t always spend my life in a bar.”
Reflecting on his high-society roots was far better than reflecting on his body. Thinking about his roots left her cold; thinking about his body left her eager to touch. There would be no more touching between them. Not one single brush.
Dusty had moved from Texas to Georgia seven and a half years ago. From what she’d overheard him tell Colin, he hadn’t spoken with his parents since. Why, Liz didn’t know. What she did know was that his parents were happily married, wealthy as Croesus, and regularly touted for their contributions to family-oriented organizations. It was hard to like anyone who would cut themselves off from an upbringing so ideal.
“You’d never be able to tell.” Snarkiness over her own, all-but-motherless rearing reflected in her voice. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed learning about her menstrual period from her red-faced, babbling father. That moment was right up there with their outing to buy a training bra—apparently he’d thought her breasts wouldn’t figure out what to do without preparation. They’d figured it out, all right. The little bastards were practically standing at attention and begging to be let out for some playtime in Dusty’s hands.
“You’ve mastered the art of seediness perfectly,” she continued. “Speaking of seedy, what happened to Blondie? Have to run home for a quick collagen fix?”
“Wasn’t my type.”
“Doesn’t put out on the first date. My sympathies.”
His smile gone, Dusty straightened. “You’re acting like an even bigger bitch than usual. Panties still in a twist over that kiss, or is the problem about wetness?”
Hah! As if he’d affected her panties with that puny kiss.
Okay, so maybe he had the tiniest little bit.
Ah, shit, she could lie to the rest of the world but not to herself. Their earlier tango had been about a whole lot more than a kiss, puny or otherwise. Her already damp sex moistened further as she recalled the thrust of his stiff dick.
Was he still hard?
Not that she cared. Really, she couldn’t give a rat’s ass. Ignoring the urge to rub her thighs together, Liz stood. “Get real, Marr. You know I don’t wear panties.”
The devilish gleam returned to his eyes. “That’s a yes to the wetness.”
Rolling her eyes, she started for the exit. “The day your kiss gets me wet will be the same one I start respecting you.”
“If you didn’t come to see me, what are you doing in my bar? You never come here. You hate country music.”
A rasp had settled into Dusty’s voice—his voice that sounded far too near. Liz stopped her trek for the door and turned back, barely stifling her gasp. He stood inches away, and the look in his eyes was both challenging and predatory. She took an involuntary step to the side. Her butt brushed against a pool table and she scowled. He could corner her all he wanted; she wouldn’t be intimidated.
She narrowed her eyes. “Obviously you suck at remembering as much as you do at fucking. I told you earlier, I came here looking for someone to screw. I wanted a change of pace from the metro scene.”
He nodded at the bar’s exit. The last of the patrons had disappeared into the night. “Looks like you’re shit outta luck.” With a cocky grin, he brought his hand to her face and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “Unless you were planning on the guy being an employee, in which case I’m sure we can work something out.”
Heat shot through her, jetting from her lips to her nipples to her core. For a second time, Liz just managed to catch her stunned gasp before it could leave her mouth.
What was it about him? Not only could he get her wet when she was fully clothed, but his simple touch had her sizzling.
She jerked her face away. “Yeah, your memory obviously sucks, or what part of ‘I’m hooking up in the parking lot’ did you miss?” Placing a hand on his chest, she attempted to push him out of her path. “He should be out there now. In other words, get the hell out of my way.”
He glanced at her hand but stood firm. “Does this mystery guy have a name?”
No, but she could pull one out of her ass as easily as the next woman—anything not to re-dredge thoughts of the hard wall of pure masculinity beneath her palm. She dropped her hand away. “Aiden.”
The look in his eye turned to something dangerous, at least to her common sense. He moved closer, until he was seriously messing with her personal space. His gaze on her mouth, he brought his hand back to her lips and rubbed the lower one with the pad of his thumb. “Tell me, Liz,” he said quietly, huskily, in a way that had her heart hammering, “does Aiden’s kiss make you wet?”
“One brush and I’m ready to come.” Oh gawd! Nice breathy voice. She sounded ready to throw herself at him.
“Just a brush.” Dusty’s warm breath whispered along her cheeks and, it seemed, every nerve in her body. He slid forward, barely a movement at all, but enough to have their bodies touching, his chest rubbing teasingly against her breasts, his erection pressing against her sex.
So much for not touching.
If nothing else, she had the answer to her earlier question of if he was still hard. He was, in a really big way.
His mouth came over hers, splintering further thought. One slow, soft, sensual caress and it lifted away. “A brush like that?” he asked roughly. “Or is this more what you were thinking of?” His mouth returned. No softness this time, but his teeth nipping at her lips with stinging little bites that had her nipples aching.
“Or maybe it wasn’t a mouth kiss you had in mind.” The breath rushed between Liz’s lips as he grasped her around the waist and lifted her onto the pool table. Flashing a taunting grin, he went to his knees. He inched her dress up and palmed her naked thighs. “Maybe this is more what you were thinking of.”
She gave her head a shake. What was wrong with her? She was sitting here, letting him have his way with her. It was the absolute last thing she wanted…. But, oh wow, who knew the cool felt of the pool table could feel so good on bare skin?
Talk about feeling good…
Dusty’s fingers moved along her inner thighs, easing her dress farther up as they brushed in slow, thought-fogging circles. His fingers stilled when they reached the soft curls at her apex. She hadn’t been joking when she’d told him she was pantyless—it was an action meant to bolster her sexual assurance. Now she paid the price. Now he could undoubtedly feel the juices sliding down her thighs, smell her arousal thick on the air. Now was the time to tell him what an asshole he was and get the fuck out of Dodge.
One lone, long finger threaded through her damp curls, and the breath snagged in her throat. Lovely. How was she supposed to tell him to stop now? She couldn’t speak a word without risking a sigh, or worse, demanding he screw her immediately.
A second finger joined the first. Together they stroked the lips of her sex, splayed them wide.
His gaze returned to hers, lust thick in its depth. “Nothing quite like sucking on a slick, pink pussy to end a long, hard day at the office.”
Liz’s belly tightened. No way. He wasn’t tonguing her.
She attempted to close her thighs, but the damned things had a mind of their own. Her legs spread wider, welcoming him inside while her breath panted out as if she were a bitch in heat. His fingers stretched her swollen pussy lips, exposing her inflamed clit. Cream dripped onto his fingers and the green felt table beneath her as he lowered his head.
Looking up at her face, he opened his mouth. His tongue came out, over his lips, easing toward her cunt, and then slicing right down its center.
“Ohmigawd!” Her nails dug into the soft, sweaty flesh of her palms. He was every bit as good at oral sex as she remembered. Every bit as good