Ramagos, Tonya - Logan's Lessons [Sunset Cowboys 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 2

  He caught her wrist in a grip somehow equally soft and firm, his attention never deviating from her face. "I'll admit it's easier when I have a partner. Are you volunteering?"

  Volunteering for…

  Jaelynn's brain scrambled to catch up in the frenzy of wildly stimulating possibilities. Was she volunteering to be his partner in bed, against the wall, on top of the bar? Heavens to Betsy, they all sounded like winners to her.

  To him too, if the tender caress of his thumb to the inner flesh of her wrist served as any indication. Could he feel how viciously her pulse pounded through her veins? Heat radiated from his groin through the material of both his jeans and hers as if to offer extra proof. But he'd been talking about dancing and not of the horizontal variety.

  Jaelynn drew her bottom lip between her teeth and enjoyed the spark of desire that joined the meltdown in the chocolate. "Maybe." She purposely added a light purr to the word. "It looked like it could be fun. That couple over there seemed to be enjoying themselves."

  She all but heard the gears in his head change from the bedroom shuffle to the nonchalant swing. He blinked, released her wrist, and picked up his mug, turning back to the bar as he looked in the direction she'd indicated.

  "Hugh and Maria Rowell," he said. "Been married for over ten years and made it as far as divorce court about six months back before they realized all they lacked was a little spice in their marriage."

  "Spice they found on the dance floor under your instruction," Jaelynn concluded.

  Logan shrugged. "I give them a place to get the heat sparking. Where they take it from that point is their own rodeo."

  "And those two?" Jaelynn tipped her chin at a couple of cowboys at a table at the edge of the dance floor. "I'll admit to being a bit surprised at seeing two guys out there dancing together. Women do it all the time. They want to boogie, their men won't dance with them so they partner with each other, but guys don't usually go that route."

  "They do when they're gay." He chuckled at the surprised look Jaelynn knew must be on her face.

  "Oh, well, then." She flushed. "Wow. I didn't see that one coming. Not that I have anything against gays. I mean, hello, I'm an Oreo cookie here."

  That got a louder laugh out of him. "Darlin', there are so many creative places I could take that comment, but it wouldn't be appropriate words between two people who have yet to formally introduce themselves." He replaced his now empty mug on the bar and held out his hand. "I'm Logan Cartwright."

  She took his hand, this time bracing herself for the skin-to-skin contact. His grip was warm, his skin calloused and no amount of preparation could've saved her from the riot of sensations that swamped her. Hunger grew in her core, juices flowed to coat her pussy lips, and the screaming clashed with the bull horn in a cacophony of warning sounds she chose to ignore. "Jaelynn-Sue Murphy but you can call me Jaelynn."

  "So how 'bout it, Jaelynn, wanna be my partner tonight?"

  Chapter 2

  Jaelynn stood on the edge of the dance floor with Logan and watched as a dozen or more couples shuffled, stomped, and stepped their way across the varnished oak. A DJ had taken up post on a platform to the left of the dance floor shortly after Logan's classes ended and immediately began playing song after song of the most popular country and western music of the decades. Billy Ray Cyrus and his soothing twang blared through the speakers now, wondering where he would live when he got home.

  Beside her, Logan squeezed her hand in one of his and slipped his free arm around her waist. He leaned close at her ear, his breath an intoxicating warmth on her flesh as he spoke. "Step to the right, slide the left foot over to touch, another step to the right, another slide, then turn and stomp."

  "It's the C. C. Shuffle," she told him and delighted in the surprise that shifted through his eyes. "With the added turn and stomp at the end and all the…" She wiggled her hips and bit the inside of her cheek as the surprise morphed to a desire so instant and potent she felt it all the way to her booted toes. Christ, the man was danger incarnate; dangerous good looks, dangerous body, and an even more dangerous gleam of undiluted male guarantee in his eyes.

  "Want to try that with a partner now?" he asked gruffly.

  "Only if you promise not to laugh. I've been told I have two left feet. The expression doesn't only apply to men, you know?" She let him lead her to the center of the dance floor and let out an undignified squeak when he caught her hand, spun her around and yanked her back, her front slamming into his.

  He buried his face in the side of her neck, his lips brushing her ear lobe. "I teach dance, remember. Believe me, I run across my share of women with two left feet." He started to move, a step to the right, a slide of his left foot, and a repeat of the same. "Just follow my lead."

  It seemed awkward at first, doing a dance originally choreographed to be done solo in a single file line. Her steps were actually backward to coincide with his, but the way his body moved against hers, the way he'd bent his knees to bring their groins in perfect alignment for grinding drove her to near orgasm.

  "You're doing good." His hands traveled from her hips to her behind, molding to her ass and drawing her closer still.

  Her arms were around his shoulders, and she delved her fingers into the hairs at his nape, reveling in the feel of the silky strands. He moaned in her ear, a low grumbling sound that vibrated straight to her center and herded her one gallop closer to release.

  Good. He thought she was doing good? He wanted good? She'd give him great. Her feet might have trouble keeping step but she'd never been told her hips possessed a problem.

  Jaelynn arched her lower body into him, extending a leg around his as they started the next sequences and grinding her pussy against his thigh.

  "Sweet Jesus," he growled, his hands squeezing her ass as he swayed with her, as the heat between them built to boiling.

  "Am I doing better now?" Jaelynn teased and added an extra gyration to the turn that rubbed his cock into her heated core at such a perfect moment he would've been inside her sopping channel if not for the barrier of their jeans.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her. His eyes grew heavy-lidded, their once milky brown now the color of a Dove double dark chocolate bar. "Sweet thang, you get any better at this and I'm going to want to have my way with you tonight."

  "What? You don't want to yet?" She flattened her hands on his broad shoulders and let them travel down his biceps. He was solid muscle beneath her palms. All she could think about in that moment was getting the blasted shirt off of him. She wanted to be skin-to-skin with this man tonight. Now. Forget that she'd just met him. Forget that every fiber of her being screamed at her not to give into the purely carnal urge to fuck. Forget that she'd held herself in check for so very long. She wanted, and nothing had ever stopped her from taking what she wanted in the past. Why let anything start now?

  "Oh, I want, babe. I want to take you somewhere and change this vertical dance we're doing to the horizontal mambo."

  Jaelynn laughed. "Can you mambo?"

  Amusement swam into his gaze. "I can. I bet I can even adapt it to suit."

  "You mean you haven't yet?"

  "Not that particular one. You'd be a first."

  "Then what are you waiting for?"

  He sighed, and there was so much agony in the sound her heart actually ached for him. "My place isn't exactly private right now. Unless you're into exhibitionism, then it might be right up your alley. I'm all for kinky now and then, but an audience of family members won't make it easy to get my rocks off." He winced. "Crudely speaking."

  "I'll take privacy," Jaelynn stopped dancing. She'd let her hands move between them, her palms skimming over his chest, down his abdomen, his stomach. Christ on a pogo stick, there wasn't an ounce of fat on this man. She licked her lips, her mouth watering, her tongue aching to follow the same path as her hands only lower to feast on his impressive cock. "Like the kind we'll find at my trailer on the rodeo grounds."

  He stepped back, h
is hands moving once again to her hips and holding her at arm's length. The song ended and another began, but he didn't seem to notice. His gaze remained totally focused on her and full of intense concentration. "Are you sure?"

  Jaelynn took his hands in hers, all but prying them from her hips and closed the distance he'd put between them. She rose to her toes and leaned in at his ear. "Positive." She licked his lobe and delighted in the tremor that caused his body to slither against her. "Come have your way with me, Mr. Cartwright. I need a few," she sucked his lobe between her teeth, "private lessons."

  * * * *

  Logan spent a great deal of time over the years wondering what it would be like to live the rodeo life. He'd envisioned himself competing in the professional circuit, living out of a two room camper trailer and waking at sunrise each day to a new town and a new crowd of folks. New women, too, he mused now as he walked with Jaelynn across the seemingly deserted grounds behind the arena. Then he'd fallen in love and revised the women part to a single woman. He'd revised the rest not long after, when his father became ill and it all became a distant hopeful memory.

  "I'm not going to get plugged by a double barrel shot gun for following you to your trailer at this time of night or anything, am I?" He was only half kidding. Jaelynn might not be any one cowboy's claim, but Logan knew how protective rodeo riders could be of any woman in their circuit.

  She gave a soft laugh and shushed him with a finger to her lips. "Naw. The cowboys around here carry pistols instead of shot guns. Easier to transport and conceal. And they tend to shoot into the air first, or maybe the ground at your feet. You know, to give you time to run. A warning shot. They're nice like that." She said it all on a whisper that barely masked her laughter.

  Logan let her get a full step ahead of him and then moved behind her, catching her by the waist and enveloping her in his arms. She let out a quiet yelp, and he shushed her this time, bending over her to speak softly in her ear. "You're a real laugh riot, Miss Murphy." He breathed deep, taking in her amazing scent and letting it sooth the edge of his craving for her even as it tormented his crazed desires.

  "This is me." She clasped her hands on his forearms still curled around her waist and steered him to a trailer on their right. Four steps led to the door, and she stopped on the third one to fish her key from her front pocket.

  Logan considered offering to help, but decided he'd rather wait until he could plunge his hand inside the waistband rather than settling for a pocket.

  "Do you share this place with anyone?" He hadn't thought to ask before. She'd been the one to suggest they come here and made it clear they would have privacy. Still, she could’ve meant only in her room rather than the whole trailer. His quick fantasy that started back at the bar involving whipped cream and a variety of other edibles took a hard stumble.

  She shoved her key in the lock, teetered on the edge of the step as she swung the door open, and then tipped her head back, a wide grin unfolding on her truly delectable lips. The extra step put her high enough that her head rested on his shoulder. "Nope, it's all mine, cowboy. Let's dance." She waggled her brows suggestively, and Logan chuckled, forgetting to be quiet. She shushed him again, this time catching him by reaching a hand behind his neck to cup his nape and pull his mouth down to hers.

  Logan's knees went weak. Her lips felt like precious strips of satin grazing over his in a hint of icy hot temptation. They parted on a sigh filled with contentment and pure exotic pleasure, and he delved his tongue between them, licking first her teeth, then the roof of her mouth, and finally meeting her tongue.

  He heard himself growl, knew the sound was too loud, too beastly, but his control seemed lost in the dark recesses of her mouth right along with his tongue. Jesus, she tasted as amazing as she smelled, exotic, a heady mix of sweet and spice combined with a potent desire that had his balls quivering in his sac.

  "Are you trying to get me shot?" he pulled back to ask, his voice gruff and shaky even to his own ears.

  Her fingers danced along his nape sending icy slivers of hunger raining through his back. "I wanted to taste you."

  "Do you always get what you want?" His arms were still around her, and he flattened his palms on the flatness of her belly. He slowly grazed one hand up her abdomen, stopping a breath from her breasts.

  "Sure do, if I want it bad enough." She nipped his bottom lip, trailed her tongue over his jaw. "Tonight I want you. I want to taste you everywhere. I want to feel you everywhere."

  "Care to know what I want?" He brought his hand that last miniscule inch to her breast and covered it with his palm. "I want you to take that last step into this trailer so we can get started on taking care of your wants."

  "Mmm," she purred as he started to massage her breast, gently pressured squeezes that made her eyes go glassy with the heightening arousal. "Spoken like a cowboy who knows how to please."

  Still, she didn't move, instead capturing his mouth in another kiss that brought him careening to the edge of insanity. Her tongue tangled with his, dancing, demanding, and he couldn't wait anymore.

  Logan released her breast, returning his arm to her waist. He lifted her, never once breaking the delicious kiss that continued to numb his brain and all sense of reason or control, and carried her up that last step. Somehow she managed to reach for the knob, closing the door behind them as they stepped inside, and then he had the privacy he'd wanted with the very woman he'd sought after in his fantasies.

  She turned in his arms, melding her body to his as securely as she had her mouth. He felt mindless, his body on a rapid rush to Hormonal Happy Land, his cock aching with the perverse need to be inside her, anywhere inside her. He dropped his hands to her ass, filling his palms with fantastically firm butt cheeks, and wondered if she'd ever been pleasured there. He held her against his rigid erection, his cock whimpering with the desire to plunge into the sweet heat of her pussy. He licked the inside of her mouth, catching her tongue lightly between his teeth, and his balls vibrated with the anticipation of having that tongue, those lips sucking his testicles inside her mouth.

  "Jesus, baby, you feel incredible." She gyrated against him, grinding their sexes in a friction sparking madness that surely would've made him come on the spot back at the bar had she done it on the dance floor. His cock felt strangled behind the restraint of his zipper. He felt the release building in his balls, burning a path through his shaft. If she did much more of that, she'd have him coming in his jeans. He couldn’t have that.

  Logan gripped her hips and gently pushed her away. Their mouths parted on gasping breaths that lingered in the air between them, heated rushes of carnal need waiting to be sated. "Undress for me, Jaelynn. Will you do that, darlin'? I want to see you undress for me."

  He'd fantasized about it. Lying in his bed late at night after a hard day's work on the ranch and an arousing evening of teaching dance, he'd put his hands behind his head, stared at the ceiling and pictured Jaelynn-Sue Murphy stripping for him to the beat of a slow country tune. No music played now, but he didn't figure she would need any.

  He was right. Her gaze transfixed on his, she stepped back and, starting a sensuous ripple of her body that began at her feet and traveled up, she hooked her fingers in the hem of her pullover t-shirt and guided it up and over her head, inch by torturously dick-frustrating inch.

  "Glory be to God," Logan heard himself whisper as his gaze met with the creamy mocha flesh of her muscular bare shoulders, her firm breasts barely contained in a lacy white bra, her rippling abs and navel sporting a tiny silver barbell ring. His mouth watered, and for a moment, he thought he might drown in his own drool. Then she reached behind her back, unfastened the clasp of her bra and let the shoulder straps descend in a slow slide down her arms.

  Logan was completely riveted, watching the lace as, bit by bit, it exposed more mocha flesh. Her breasts weren't large by any stretch of the imagination, but they were full and perfect, her nipples large and beaded and fully erect. She must've known where his att
ention had fixated because she brought a hand to each breast, clamping her thumbs and forefingers on her nipples and rolling them, drawing a low moan of pleasure from her own lips.

  The sound Logan made was louder, more animalistic. "Christ, baby, you are trying to kill me."

  "Not kill you," she corrected in a breathy purr. "Just get you really, really hot." Her fingers released her nipples on the second really, and she let her palms graze down her front to the waistband of her jeans.

  He let out a sound that might have been a laugh but held more torment than he thought he'd ever felt in his life. "You're doing a good job at that."

  "I don't know, Mr. Cartwright." The button of her jeans released in her fingers with a practiced ease. The sound of metal scraping metal as she lowered her zipper seemed to echo through the trailer. "It looks to me like you aren't quite hot enough yet."

  She worked her jeans down over trim hips that his hands screamed to hold as she positioned herself on his cock. She wore white lace. Very revealing thin strips of it that hardly covered the essentials and, thank you sweet baby Jesus, they were thong. She turned her back to him as she pushed her jeans down her lovely thighs. Her back arched, her ass jutting out to give him a needy heart attack of a different dimension as her pants fell to her calves and caught around her boots.

  The little two-step she did as she turned to face him once more topped any move he'd ever seen or done on the dance floor. Her hips swung with it, her hands splayed on either side, fingers hooked in the thin strips of white lace. Thumbs and forefingers tugged at the lace, pulling it away from her mocha skin to ease down a fraction of an inch before letting go.

  Logan whimpered. Christ, when was the last time a woman did that to him? He didn't know and frankly didn't care. His attention was riveted on her body, her fingers, and that damned lace still covering what he wanted most. The jeans and boots were no longer his concern. He could easily take what he wanted without ever stripping them the rest of the way.