He tipped her back over his arm and put his mouth against the hollow at the base of her throat, the heat of his denim clad crotch hard against the silk of her underwear. She gasped a little when he opened the catch of her bra. He slid his fingers beneath the straps on her shoulders, then paused to hold her close and smooch her lips a little more.
“Lost your nerve, Sailor?” she murmured, knowing full well that he hadn’t, unable to resist the challenge. Dylan grazed his teeth over her bottom lip.
“Once this comes off, we’re over the line,” he said, his mouth moving along her jaw.
Kara played her fingers across the waistband of his jeans.
“We were over the line as soon as I stepped onto this boat tonight.”
“I’ve been over the line since the first time I saw you,” he said, and then eased her bra off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
Kara’s whole body burned as he looked down at her breasts. Appreciation darkened his eyes to emerald glitter, and the low, intensely sexual catch in his breath told her all she needed to know. He was over the line.
He touched her; took the weight of her breasts in his hands, sliding his thumbs over her nipples, slipping his tongue into her mouth. His hands were hot, his mouth hotter, the skin of his back hotter still. Searing. Scorching. She stroked him everywhere, and he dipped her backwards again to lift her breasts to his waiting, hungry mouth. His hand slid inside her knickers to mould her backside as he mouthed her bullet-hard nipples, one then the other, again, and then again.
He lifted her off her feet as she straightened and she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together behind his back. Dylan held her easily in his arms, kissing her senseless as his fingers explored the silk between her legs. He had her desperate, unable to breathe with wanting him to push the material aside and touch her properly.
“Let’s take this inside, English.” His voice cracked, raw and unsteady. “Let me take you to my bed.” His fingers pushed the material a little deeper into her. “Let me take these off for you, and kiss you here,” he thumbed her clitoris, making her moan.
“And Kara?” he breathed, sliding just the tip of one finger under the material. “The boots stay on.”
Chapter Ten
Dylan jumped down onto the lower deck and turned to help Kara down after him, kissing her stomach as it slid past his lips, then lingering on her naked breasts because he couldn’t help himself.
“Bedroom,” she said, lifting his head to hers. “Now.”
He led her by the hand into the boat and lifted the trapdoor to the bedroom.
She eyed it sceptically. “Really?”
He looked at her, naked apart from her boots and lace knickers, her hands on her hips. The coolest cowgirl in the world. If she produced a gun from those itty-bitty lace panties and shot him right in the heart now, he’d die a happy man.
“Really.” He waved his arm in front of him towards the hatch. “You first, or me. You choose. Either way I can promise you that I won’t look up your skirt.”
“Cute, Sailor.” Kara put her head on one side, studying the options. “ You can go first and demonstrate.”
Dylan turned and lowered himself down the hatch, proficient after the benefit of a few days’ practice.
“Come down backwards, same as me. It’s easiest.”
Her boots appeared first, followed by smooth, brown calves. She stilled for a moment when he kissed the sweet spot at the back of her knee, his hands already on her thighs, halfway between steadying and stroking. She dropped a foot down onto the next step, bringing her backside level with his mouth.
He needed her to stop.
“Hold it there one second,” he said, moulding her warm curves in his hands and letting his mouth drift over the strip of lace that covered next to nothing. She had skin like the velvet petals of a rose and the kick-ass attitude of the prickliest cactus, and it was turning out to be a combination that drove him crazy.
She was turned on. The subtle movement through her hips told him so. She was offering herself, opening herself to his mouth. He pulled her panties to the side and slid his fingers into the heat between her legs, loving the way she gasped and rocked her hips a little harder. Fuck, she was wet and ready, and his every instinct was to drop his jeans and screw her there and then against the stepladder.
He pressed his whole body against her legs, his mouth a breath away from her sex.
He didn’t want to be a breath away. He wanted her spreadeagled on his bed.
He pushed a finger inside her, dipping his head between her legs to lick where he’d stroked, laughing low when she tried to open her legs further to encourage him in. She was so close to coming, but she was also close to breaking her neck. He didn’t want her to break her neck, because he wanted to screw her until she forgot her own name.
He straightened and slipped his arms around her, finding her nipples and rolling them.
“Get your ass down off this ladder and into my bed, English.”
She slithered down, a bundle of curves and flushed skin in the glow of the bedside light.
She paused for a second, her eyes flickering around the low, velvet-encased boudoir. He watched her, knowing what was going on in her head because he’d had that same reaction the first time he’d seen the place.
She turned to him, then stepped in close and ran her hand over his cock, flicking open the top button of his jeans.
She glanced at the low ceiling with a sigh of regret.
“I guess we’ll have to save reverse cowgirl until another time,” she murmured, flicking open his second button.
Dylan closed his eyes, but the image of Kara sitting astride his cock in just her cowboy boots stayed there anyway. His affection for the Love Tug waned rapidly with the realisation that it was never going to happen in this room, at least. She flicked a third button open and reached her hand inside, raising her eyebrows at the fact that he was naked beneath the denim.
“You thought I was a sure thing, Sailor?”
He shook his head. “Assumed nothing. Hoped some.” He dragged in a deep breath as she dipped down onto her haunches to push his jeans off, her face level with his cock. He could feel the heat of her breath, and he groaned out loud when she licked him from base to tip, raising her eyes to his as she opened her mouth and took him inside.
If he lived another hundred years, he knew he’d never see anything as outright fucking beautiful.
He let her slide her mouth over him once more. Twice. And then he stopped her, because if she’d got to three, he wouldn’t have had the self-control to stop her, and by four or five she’d have had him coming like a school boy.