hall. One of the staff members answered on the first ring. “It’s Bungalow 11. We need some breakfast here.” He raised a brow at Ruthie, who nodded. “French toast, sausage?” Ruthie shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Make that bacon. And syrup, bring lots of syrup.” He waggled his brows, and she giggled. “A carafe of coffee will be fine. Thank you.”
He tossed the cell to the floor to get the mysterious Andrew as far from Ruthie as possible and lunged for her. As he latched onto the tip of her rounded breast, she sucked in a sharp breath. He trailed his fingers up and down her ribs until she collapsed with laughter.
Still, he couldn’t resist probing for more information. “Tell me the last man who did this to you.”
“No one. Ever.” She scraped her fingers over his unshaven jaw as he moved to her other breast.
“And do your boyfriends play Scrabble rather than give you amazing orgasms?” He ran a forefinger down her belly to her snatch. Her clit was plump and ready for him. As he circled it, she writhed.
“Y-yes.”
He watched her face as he pushed back the hood over her clit and found her slippery core. “All of them? Even Andrew?”
“He’s a…history teacher.”
Damn. Damian was so far out of his league with her. She deserved a scholarly type, someone to talk books and stimulate her mind. Damian couldn’t read as well as her third-graders. Depression was a hole in his gut.
Watching her mouth contort in shapes of bliss, a new kind of power settled over him. Sure, those guys could occupy her with games and books, but could they do this? Obviously not or she wouldn’t be here—with Damian.
“I have a confession to make,” he whispered as he strummed her hard nubbin.
“Ochhh. What’s that?” She bucked into his hand.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth—he was a twenty-six-year-old man who couldn’t read. They’d tried to teach him in prison, to no avail.
Leaning in, he nipped her bottom lip. She squeaked.
“I have a fetish for your pussy. For this.” He eased his fingers over her full outer lips. He dipped his fingers into her channel, then spread the fresh cream over her inner folds and up to her clit once again.
A shudder ripped through her.
A knock sounded, and he reared up. Grabbing a blanket off the sofa back, he threw it over her. “Don’t get up,” he said and stomped to the front door, bare-ass naked.
“What about you?” Ruthie’s voice was filled with mirth.
He tossed a look over his shoulder to ensure she’d taken his order. The last thing he wanted was someone to see her nude. She was his. “No one will care if I’m nekkid, believe me.”
He whipped open the door. Ty stood there, wearing a huge grin. He dropped his gaze to Damian’s junk then looked into his face. He thrust the tray at Damian. “No wonder you ordered bacon. You’ve already got lots of sausage.”
From the sofa, Ruthie released a peal of laughter. Ty leaned to the side to get a glimpse of her, and Damian moved with him, blocking her from view. “Thanks for the delivery.”
“Don’t I get a tip?” Ty pitched his voice low. “Maybe an invitation inside?”
Damian grabbed the door and started to slam it in his face. “Here’s your tip. Don’t piss into the wind.” He shut the door in Ty’s laughing face and turned to Ruthie to find her pink-faced with amusement.
When Damian laid out the food and set her in his lap to hand-feed her, he couldn’t help but hope that their time together would never be forgotten.
The rain hadn’t stopped. Damian gripped Ruthie’s hand and towed her at a dead run across the expanse of grass to the auditorium. He’d spent a good half hour explaining some of the things she’d see today. Her nerves jangled, but he’d assured her he would take care of her and if she was bothered at any point, they’d leave.
He’d called it a “Quick Release” party. Cowboys tying up the willing guests and pleasuring them
He tossed the cell to the floor to get the mysterious Andrew as far from Ruthie as possible and lunged for her. As he latched onto the tip of her rounded breast, she sucked in a sharp breath. He trailed his fingers up and down her ribs until she collapsed with laughter.
Still, he couldn’t resist probing for more information. “Tell me the last man who did this to you.”
“No one. Ever.” She scraped her fingers over his unshaven jaw as he moved to her other breast.
“And do your boyfriends play Scrabble rather than give you amazing orgasms?” He ran a forefinger down her belly to her snatch. Her clit was plump and ready for him. As he circled it, she writhed.
“Y-yes.”
He watched her face as he pushed back the hood over her clit and found her slippery core. “All of them? Even Andrew?”
“He’s a…history teacher.”
Damn. Damian was so far out of his league with her. She deserved a scholarly type, someone to talk books and stimulate her mind. Damian couldn’t read as well as her third-graders. Depression was a hole in his gut.
Watching her mouth contort in shapes of bliss, a new kind of power settled over him. Sure, those guys could occupy her with games and books, but could they do this? Obviously not or she wouldn’t be here—with Damian.
“I have a confession to make,” he whispered as he strummed her hard nubbin.
“Ochhh. What’s that?” She bucked into his hand.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth—he was a twenty-six-year-old man who couldn’t read. They’d tried to teach him in prison, to no avail.
Leaning in, he nipped her bottom lip. She squeaked.
“I have a fetish for your pussy. For this.” He eased his fingers over her full outer lips. He dipped his fingers into her channel, then spread the fresh cream over her inner folds and up to her clit once again.
A shudder ripped through her.
A knock sounded, and he reared up. Grabbing a blanket off the sofa back, he threw it over her. “Don’t get up,” he said and stomped to the front door, bare-ass naked.
“What about you?” Ruthie’s voice was filled with mirth.
He tossed a look over his shoulder to ensure she’d taken his order. The last thing he wanted was someone to see her nude. She was his. “No one will care if I’m nekkid, believe me.”
He whipped open the door. Ty stood there, wearing a huge grin. He dropped his gaze to Damian’s junk then looked into his face. He thrust the tray at Damian. “No wonder you ordered bacon. You’ve already got lots of sausage.”
From the sofa, Ruthie released a peal of laughter. Ty leaned to the side to get a glimpse of her, and Damian moved with him, blocking her from view. “Thanks for the delivery.”
“Don’t I get a tip?” Ty pitched his voice low. “Maybe an invitation inside?”
Damian grabbed the door and started to slam it in his face. “Here’s your tip. Don’t piss into the wind.” He shut the door in Ty’s laughing face and turned to Ruthie to find her pink-faced with amusement.
When Damian laid out the food and set her in his lap to hand-feed her, he couldn’t help but hope that their time together would never be forgotten.
The rain hadn’t stopped. Damian gripped Ruthie’s hand and towed her at a dead run across the expanse of grass to the auditorium. He’d spent a good half hour explaining some of the things she’d see today. Her nerves jangled, but he’d assured her he would take care of her and if she was bothered at any point, they’d leave.
He’d called it a “Quick Release” party. Cowboys tying up the willing guests and pleasuring them
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