Even as he struggled to regain his sanity, he stared at the uninhibited woman who took as much pleasure out of giving it as she did receiving it.
Then Rory opened those stunning green eyes. She slid her finger from his ass as her tongue darted out to capture the pearly drop of come clinging to the edge of her lips.
Unfuckingbelievably hot.
Dalton practically leapt off the edge and on top of her. Fisting his hand in the messy topknot, he took possession of her mouth. Tasting himself, tasting the passion that exploded between them.
With his other hand he wiped his come from her chest. His fingers plucked her ni**les. His palms smoothed over the heavy swells of her tits. He couldn’t touch her enough. He ate at her mouth, sucked on her tongue, nibbled on her velvety lips. Then his hand followed the plane of her stomach, past the tight curls, straight down that juicy slit. He swirled his middle finger around the opening several times and pushed it inside that tight channel. The heat and slickness of her pu**y already stirred his c**k for round two. He f**ked his finger in and out slowly, kissing her in the same purposeful way.
“More,” she said against his lips. “Please.”
“You are wet.” His mouth slid to the tip of her chin. “Did you touch yourself while you were waitin’ on me?”
“No. God that feels so good.” Rory tipped her head back, allowing full access to her neck.
He slipped in another finger, pushing a little deeper, moving a little faster. His tongue lapped at the water beaded on her skin. He released her hair to toy with her ni**les. Pinching and tugging the points—until her gasps became soft moans.
He swept his thumb over the edge of her pu**y, stopping at her clit. “I wanna hear you when you come.” Then Dalton slid the pad of his thumb over that bundle of nerves, his fingers inside her rubbed her pu**y wall behind her pubic bone.
Rory tensed, knowing he hadn’t put his mouth on her yet and whatever he did next would send her flying.
Dalton pinched her nipple hard and latched onto the pulse point in her throat; his tongue mimicked the cadence of his stroking thumb.
A husky wail drifted from her mouth—he felt the vibration on his lips as he sucked on her neck. Her body went rigid as her blood pulsed beneath his thumb and her pu**y clamped down on his fingers.
Sexy as hell.
When Rory moved her head forward, Dalton backed off and slipped his fingers from her. Sliding his lips up the strong column of her neck, he rubbed his cheek along her jaw and swallowed her shallow breaths in a long kiss.
He finally released her lips and smiled. “Takin’ a bath with you is some fun, jungle girl.”
Rory smiled back. “You know it.” She snagged her margarita. “Wanna stay in a little longer?”
“Yep. I hardly touched my beer.” He reached for it and cranked on the hot water. Then he reached for her. “I love the feel of your wet body against mine.”
She settled between his thighs, her back to his chest. She sighed and turned her head to kiss his jaw. “Thanks.”
“For?”
“Bringing me here.”
“Anytime. I just hope you’re not too bored tomorrow.”
“So I can’t stand behind you while you’re at the table and offer advice?”
Dalton snorted. “You already offered your advice in song form, remember?”
“But you have to admit the luck of the draw plays a part.”
“Some. But card strategy and the ability to bluff are more key. There are two types of card players who win consistently.”
Beneath the water she absentmindedly caressed his left thigh. “What types are they?”
“Methodical. The ability to gauge the worth of an opponent’s cards by watching the betting strategy they use.”
“Are you methodical?”
“I’m an instinctual player. I don’t figure the odds in my head of winning or losing if X card is flipped. I don’t go in with a plan. I just play my gut.” He laughed softly. “I have had bouts of indigestion where my gut was totally off.”
She laughed.
“Then there are the reckless players. They have some wins, but never consistent. They tend to play in local venues. So I’m hoping to be playin’ against a lot of players like that tomorrow night.”
“How often do you bluff?”
Dalton kissed the top of her head. “Whenever I have to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s an unanswerable question.” He sipped his beer. “What kind of poker player would you be?”
“Boring. I wouldn’t take any chances. I’d be too embarrassed that I’d get caught bluffing to actually try it. I’m not reckless. And I don’t have the math skills to be methodical.” She poked his leg. “I would’ve guessed you were the reckless type.”
“Never when it comes to cards.” Dalton put his lips on her ear. “And not when it comes to you.”
They were quiet for a bit.
Then Rory said, “What do you see yourself doing in Sundance after you finish the house renovations?”
He’d wondered if she would bring this up. Like he needed to have a plan. Or another job lined up. But he didn’t want to talk about the elk farm possibility specifically, so he hedged. “I’ve got an idea, something I’ve been working on. But it’s out of my control, which makes me crazy.”
She gasped dramatically. “No. You say you have a need for control? I never noticed it.”
Dalton growled, “I got a couple of ways I can remind you if you like.”
“Like what?”
“Both my ideas involve rope. And you bein’ nekkid.”
“What would you do?”
“Anything I want,” he said silkily. “Because I’d have the ropes. But I’d make you come at least three times before I untied you.”
Rory shivered and whispered, “Yes, please.”
Setting aside his beer, he grabbed that mass of hair and angled her head to the side so his lips could barely skim the surface of her skin. “You want me to let that kinky and rougher side of myself out?”
“Have you been holding back with me?”
“Not at all. Why? Have I left you wanting more?”
“More hot sex with you? Absolutely. I’d just hate it if you think I’m some special butterfly that needs to be handled with kid gloves. When maybe…I’m the type that wants to get tangled up in the net.” She slowly flipped around so they were chest to chest.