Games of the Heart (52 page)

“Fuck you, Hunter,” he hissed.

“If
you
wanna get fucked in the next decade, you’ll stop actin’ like a pussy-whipped, jackass remindin’ people you got dumped and givin’ them reason to understand why, then you better smarten up and move the fuck on,” Rivera fired back. “You don’t, tonight, you puttin’ your hand on my woman, you bought yourself a world of hurt. I’m your shadow, asshole. You scratch your ass, I’ll know it. You take a piss, I’ll know it. You con some idiot woman into takin’ your cock, I’ll know it.” His face got close to LeBrec’s. “You even fuckin’
sneeze,
I’ll know it. And any ‘a that shit I don’t like, I’ll find a way to make your life a misery. You even jaywalk in this town, you’re in the tank. I hear you drove by Dusty’s house, called her states away, I’ll arrest you for harassment. Don’t try me and don’t tempt me. No man puts his hand on my woman and nearly takes her to her ass without retribution. I
was
a man who just thought you were a douchebag. Now I’m a man you can count as your enemy.”

Rivera was serious and Mike saw LeBrec didn’t miss it. Although he kept up the glower, his face had paled and he’d stopped straining against Mike’s hold.

“Now we got your attention,” Rivera went on, moving back three inches, “let’s get some things straight. Is Dusty Holliday ever gonna hear from you or see you again?”

LeBrec’s eyes went up to a frozen and staring Dusty then back to Rivera.

“No,” he bit out.

“Good,” Rivera replied, sounding like he was talking to a dog he was training. “Now, are you ever,
ever
gonna put your hand on any woman when it is not wanted or requested?”

“No,” LeBrec clipped.

“Right,” Rivera went on, “Now, Mike here lets you go, you gonna get up, walk your ass outta here and think about your actions? Or are you gonna do somethin’ stupid which means I’ll have to arrest you?”

“Walk out,” LeBrec snapped.

“Good,” Rivera stated. “Now Mike’s gonna let you go slow-like and you’re gonna do that. You with me?”

“I’m with you, asshole,” LeBrec muttered, holding Rivera’s eyes, his seething.

“Good, here we go now,” Rivera said, now speaking as if he was talking to a child. He straightened, looked at Mike and, nodding once, took a step back.

Mike let him go and also stepped back.

Quickly, LeBrec found his feet.

Then he found his bluster.

Eyes on Dusty he bit out, “Don’t know what I was thinkin’. You weren’t worth the effort.”

Dusty crossed her arms on her chest and rolled her eyes the picture, top to toe, of a woman who was worth any effort.

Mike grinned.

Yep, that was his woman.

LeBrec looked to Mike and offered snidely, “You can have her.”

“That’s good since I already do,” Mike replied affably, still grinning.

LeBrec glared at him. Then his eyes took in the cowboys and cowgirls around him and it hit him he was the center of attention in a headline act. Realizing that, his gaze hit his boots and his boots moved across the floor.

Mike watched him go, turning to do it. Few men could endure that humiliation and not learn their lesson. Then again, there were some that such an event would fuel their fire. He wasn’t giving that asshole his back.

LeBrec was swallowed up in a sea of cowboys and cowgirls as Mike smelled Dusty’s perfume close then felt her body closer. He felt this because it was pressed to his side.

He turned his head and looked down at her.

She rolled up on her toes and put one hand to his abs, the thumb of the other hand she hooked in the back belt loop of his jeans.

And close to his ear, she whispered, “That was so hot, that just bought you dirty.” His neck twisted further to catch her eyes and when he did, she pressed her tits tight against his arm and kept whispering, “
Filthy.
”

Looking into her eyes, feeling her pressed close, reading her face, Mike decided it was time to call it a night.

* * * * *

“Couch, spread,” Mike growled, watched Dusty’s eyes flare then she detached from him and did as he asked.

She was true to her promise. They were back from Schub’s for a second and she’d pounced. Now, at his demand, he was still fully clothed and she was buck naked. Keeping her standing with Dusty allowed to do nothing but hold on, he’d played with her.

Now he was ready to move it along.

She didn’t waste time getting on the couch and doing what he asked, back to the armrest, eyes hot on him, one leg she threw over the back of the couch, the other foot she put on the floor.

She didn’t delay. Seeing her spread herself on the couch for him like that, Mike didn’t either. He joined her, mouth between her legs.

His woman liked his mouth. He knew this because she didn’t hide it. She also was so far gone at that moment, he barely engaged his tongue before she started making the noises she made right before she’d come. It was part tequila, part what happened with LeBrec and part him bossing when they got home. She bitched about his bossing but she loved it.

He knew this because he could taste it.

She was so hot, so agitated, so close, in no time she took Mike to the same place just by hearing her noises and feeling her move. But he wanted that around his dick. No way Dusty could fake an orgasm with him, not that he’d give her reason. But he knew when she came because her pussy clenched and spasmed around his dick. He’d give her that with his mouth and he had.

He just wasn’t going to now.

He lifted up and grasped her hips, yanking her under him.

His hands went to his belt. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt.

“Want your skin,” she breathed.

He let her do what she wanted. He was busy.

By the time he freed himself, she got his buttons undone and spread his shirt. He covered her with his body and drove inside. Then he watched as her neck arched back, her lips parted and fuck,
fuck,
he’d been wrong earlier. She was never more beautiful than the first instant she took him inside. She loved it; it washed over her features and every time he saw it he was certain he’d come early. He didn’t because he knew the rest of the show was nearly as spectacular.

He drove in and drew out, riding her hard and her arms circled his shoulders.

“Knees high,” he grunted and she acquiesced immediately, tipping her chin down and giving him her eyes.

“Nothing feels better than you,” she whispered.

Fuck. He liked that.

Mike held her eyes and kept thrusting but doing it harder.

“Nothing, baby,” she breathed, her thighs clasped tight at his sides, her arms tensed and she gave it to him. Her pussy clenched and spasmed around his dick.

Mike drove in faster, harder, her body jolting, he shoved a hand under her, wrapping his arm around the top of her hips and yanking her down as he powered up.

She lifted her head, shoved her face in his neck and, still coming, gasped, “That’s it, baby, fuck me.”

He did as she asked.

Then he plunged his fingers in her hair, fisted, positioned her head for her mouth to take his and his groan drove down her throat as he buried his dick inside her and came.

Each time, it was phenomenal. Each time, he knew the next could never top it.

Each time, he was wrong.

He came down and she was kissing him, her tongue gliding sweet against his. Mike took over, soft at first, building it then taking her to the whimper. When he got it, he ended the kiss, slid his lips down her cheek to her neck and worked his mouth there.

This was different than he had with any other woman. Even Audrey, he disengaged quickly. He didn’t mind closeness, cuddling but, whatever it said about him, when he was done, he was done. With every woman he had, every encounter, within moments he pulled out and rolled away. He might eventually roll them into him but he never stayed buried, kissed, savored the feel of the woman’s limbs rounding him, the smell of her perfume in his nostrils, the taste of her on his tongue, the feel of her wrapped around his dick.

He did it with Dusty every time. He couldn’t get enough of her, enough of her scent, her feel, their connection.

He felt her legs wrap tight and her fingers glide over the skin of his back, light, sweet, her other hand sliding into his hair and playing. It sent prickles across his scalp, down his neck but not the bad kind.

He was about to lift his head when her body bucked in a strange way and she made a noise low in her throat like she was in pain.

His head jerked up and he looked down at her to see her warm brown eyes filled with tears. Filled so full, they spilled over, gliding down her temples into her hair.

“Sweetheart, what the fuck?” he whispered and when he did, she lifted her head, shoved it in his neck, her arms and legs getting tight and she began to sob. As in
sob
, body wrenching, breath hitching, moans tearing up her throat.

Jesus.

He pulled out. It took effort and not a small amount of time since it seemed with her actions Dusty wanted to burrow into him, for him to absorb her into his skin but he got his jeans adjusted and his shirt off. Then he forced her arms in the sleeves and got two buttons done at her breasts before she plastered herself against him, face buried in his neck, ass in his lap, arms around him in a death grip.

He slid the fingers of one hand up and down her spine soothingly, the fingers of other gliding through her hair as he twisted his neck and whispered in her ear, “Angel, get a handle on it long enough to talk to me. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Da…Da…
Darrin,
” she sobbed into his neck and her body reared with another hitched breath. “He’d be so…so…ha…happy!”

That was not what he expected her to say. Then again, he had no fucking clue what she was going to say.

Mike’s hands stopped moving so he could circle his arms around her and he whispered, “Dusty.”

“He…he…wanted us together sah…sah…so bad,” she continued blubbering. “And he did…did…didn’t live to see it. In…in fact, him
dying
is why it happened.”

Jesus.

Mike’s arms got tighter and he kept whispering in her ear when he said, “Honey.”

She jerked back, looked down at him, her face red, her eyes wet, the trails of tears still tracking over her cheeks. “I know I’m weird!” she cried. “Talking about my brah…brah…brother after sex but he
would
, Mike. He
would
be happy.” She pulled an arm from around him and dashed a hand across her cheek so clumsily he feared she’d do herself harm but luckily she stopped, took a long shuddering breath and kept talking. “Not the sex part because he was kind of conservative but the you and me part.”

“He wanted us together?” Mike asked and she nodded fervently. “Why?”

“He read my diaries, Mike!” she exclaimed then collapsed against him again. “And he knew you were a good guy.”

Well, that would definitely explain it, at least the diaries.

She’d ratcheted it down to sniffling so Mike moved his hands on her soothingly again, giving her some time before he murmured, “My girl, takin’ everything on, she hasn’t had time to deal with her own shit.”

“No,” Dusty mumbled then sniffed.

“You need to give yourself time to grieve, Angel,” Mike advised.

“When?” she replied. “There is no time with my bitchface sister, budding teenage romance, shadowy, nefarious businessmen lurking and Rhonda baffling science by being the first case of a walking, talking, cooking, grocery shopping coma patient.”

He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t. But his body started rocking with laughter anyway.

This went on a while before Dusty muttered, “This isn’t funny.”

He knew she wasn’t pissed because her words held a smile but Mike calmed his laughter and gathered her close before he said gently, “No, darlin’, it isn’t. But you are.”

She snuggled deep and fell silent.

After a few moments, she whispered, “I miss him, Mike. He used to call once a week, sometimes twice. And I…well, I just miss him.”

“Yeah,” Mike whispered back wishing there was more to say, magic words. But there just wasn’t.

She took in a stuttering breath.

Mike held her close and Dusty held him close right back.

After a while, he dipped his chin and asked softly in her ear, “You want me to clean you up and put you to bed?”

She didn’t answer verbally, just nodded, her head moving against his shoulder and neck.

At her answer, Mike lifted her up, straightening from the couch and he walked her to the bathroom. She leaned heavy into him as he ran a warm cloth between her legs.

This was something else Mike had never done with any woman. With Dusty, he didn’t do it every time, not even often, but he did it. And each time he did it, he found it profound. This was because the woman he held was a woman who could take care of herself but when she was with him, she trusted that to his care. That was a gift but with this act, so intimate, it was more. It was treasure, precious and it never failed to move him.

When he was done, he carried her to her bed. He took off his jeans. He left her in his shirt.