The orgasm spun Rory completely out of orbit. Dalton’s tongue didn’t go wild when she started to come. He kept the easy cadence, alternating soft sucks of his lips with slow, long licks, drawing out the throbbing until her knees gave out.
Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the couch.
No man had ever just handled her like that. Whenever Dalton picked her up, like she was a normal sized girl and not a gigantic freak, she felt petite. Coddled. Protected. Something she’d never known she’d wanted. And he gave it to her without asking.
“How about if we take a break and watch some TV?”
“Okay.” She curled into him. After thirty minutes of mind-numbing poker, Rory began to drift off. Half-sleepily she said, “You never answered my question.”
“About what?”
“Anal sex.”
His body stilled. “What about it?”
“Are you expecting it from me?”
“When it comes to sex I don’t expect anything from you except honesty. If you don’t like something we do, tell me. I can tell if you’re into what we’re doin’ when I hear that sexy moan of yours.” He stroked her hair. “You worried I’m gonna bend you over and ram my dick up your ass without warning?”
Rory blushed. Then felt stupid for it. She was twenty-eight years old. This man was her lover. It was natural to discuss all sides of sex. “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
“No guy you’ve been with has tried to sweet-talk you into giving him a sample of this sweet ass?”
“Nope. And I’ve never been the adventurous type who’d just announce to a lover, hey you know what would mix it up tonight? If we tried anal. I’ll grab the lube and a corncob for a practice run.”
Dalton laughed. “Well, don’t kid yourself that you’re not sexually adventurous if you’re willing to stick a corncob up your butt.”
“I have no idea where that came from.”
“How about let’s not dig too deeply into that.”
“Deal.”
“That said, any time you want to try a little back door lovin’, I’m game.”
“You’ve had experience with it?”
“Not with you and that’s all that matters to me. If you’re asking if I can make it good for you?” His mouth brushed her ear and he breathed, “Oh yeah, baby, I can make it great for you.”
During a commercial break, Dalton said, “We probably better come up with something we can do together besides sex. Like a hobby.
Rory gasped dramatically. “So riding the hobbyhorse isn’t a real hobby?”
“Shocking, I know,” he said dryly. Then he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Stay with me tonight. I won’t try and have my wicked way with you. I just sleep better when you’re in my bed.”
Say no. Retain your head, girl. Retain some control.
“I can’t.”
Dalton studied her patiently.
She could’ve said she needed to spend time with her mom, which wasn’t a lie. By not giving him a concrete reason for saying no, she reiterated her position—their lives weren’t completely intertwined.
He didn’t argue; he couldn’t when he’d told her he no longer offered justifications for his decisions to anyone, but she sensed his disappointment. And her supposed victory felt a little hollow.
Chapter Sixteen
Dalton had made progress updating the kitchen. He’d removed the melamine countertops and ordered marble laminate countertops that’d be delivered next week. He’d installed a deeper stainless steel sink. He’d painted the walls a khaki green, weird for a kitchen in his opinion, but it was what Sierra wanted. Good thing she’d color coordinated everything because he sure wouldn’t have picked half the oddball colors.
He’d cracked a beer and was about to hang the refaced cabinet doors when someone knocked at his door.
His heart skipped a beat. His c**k stirred—it had a mind of its own when it came to Rory—his brain roared MINE, and his body set out to prove it.
He opened the door with, “Baby, I’ve told you that you don’t have knock.” Except it wasn’t Rory on the threshold but his cousin Ben. “Hey, Ben. Sorry, I thought you were someone else. Come on in.”
“Just as long as you promise to never ever call me baby again.”
“Deal.” He stepped back to let him in. “Am I on the family’s shit list and they sent the peacemaker to talk some sense into me?”
Ben shook his head and handed Dalton a paper bag that held a six-pack. He hung his black Carhartt on the coat tree Rory had bought for him earlier this week. “Are you telling me none of our other cousins have been over to see you?”
Dalton moved into the kitchen. “You’re the first.” He opened the bag and fished out two bottles of Moose Drool beer. “You joining me for a cold one?”
“Sure.” He took the beer from Dalton but his gaze was taking in the kitchen. “You’ve got some major renovation goin’ on here.”
“Not too much actually. Person that owns this house is trading rent for my fixer-upper skills. She buys the materials and I follow the unending lists of what I need to do. Keeping me busy so far.” Dalton pulled out a chair and sat.
Ben followed suit. “Looks good. You gonna be here long enough to do the whole house?”
“We’ll see.”
“I didn’t know you were so handy.”
“Neither did I.” He shrugged. “Like most things I’ve had to learn on my own.”
“So is it a new skill?”
“Some of it. But I gutted the trailer after I moved into it years ago. Learned more from screwing up than anything else.”
“I hear ya.” Ben frowned. “Don’t remember if I’ve ever been inside your old trailer.”
“Probably not. Didn’t have drop by visits from anyone back then either.”
Ben leaned back in his chair. “Fill me in on what’s been goin’ on in Dalton’s life.”
“That friend of yours, Boden? I kept in touch with him during my travels. When they lost their hunting guide last year before the opening of hunting season, I stepped in. Been in Montana ever since.” Moping, as Sierra had pointed out.
“Whoa. How’d you and Boden get to be friends?”
Dalton looked Ben in the eye. “At the Rawhide Club.”