Rough and Tumble (10 page)

She bit into her arm to keep from yelling or screaming or showing him how inexperienced she was. But the sounds escaped her anyway, filling the car, echoing in her head and throughout her body.

“That's what I wanted to hear,” he said. “You screaming my name.”

A sheen of sweat coated her, nipping at her skin. She was buzzing, his fingers still inside her, intimate and carnal.

“I didn't scream your name,” she said.

“You did.” He had that smug look again.

She gave it right back to him. “Bullshit.”

Her dirty mouth seemed to stoke him, and he put pressure on her clitoris with his thumb, massaging her. She groaned.

“Say my name now,” he murmured.

He
wasn't going to win everything tonight.

She reached down, coasting her fingers over his penis. He cursed, so she rubbed him harder.

“Say
my
name,” she said.

“Fuck you, Molly.” He laughed until she cupped him, squeezing gently.

“Can you say it nicer?”

“Damn you, Molly.”

A softer growl, playful and needful, and that worked just fine for her.

She didn't know where this Molly had come from, but she liked her, and when Cash reached into one of those back pockets, he fumbled out the Bettie Page lighter. It hit the floor as he reached in again and came out with a condom, unwrapping it as quickly as she was undoing his button fly.

This was surreal: her in a car, having sex with a guy she barely knew. A guy who wasn't even remotely her type. But it wasn't like she was ever going to see him again. So why not?

Why not once in her lifetime before she got back to normal?

He wasn't wearing underwear, so she brought him all the way out, his length long and pulsing in her hand. Pre-ejaculate beaded his tip, and she knew they didn't have long until he climaxed.

After slipping the rubber onto himself, he grabbed her by the hips and, in one smooth move, maneuvered so he was sitting on the car seat and bringing her onto his lap at the same time. He pulled her toward him, impaling her, and she leaned back with a shocked breath. But then, in the next one, she fell forward, grasping the back of the seat, straddling him as he moved her hips with his hands, helping her to churn and grind. He filled her up, putting her into a feverish void that echoed with her gasps and the wet sounds of him going in and out of her.

“Dammit,” he groaned.

“Damn what?” she asked.

But he was getting close, out of control, and she had no doubt that Cash didn't like it that way.

She was going to make him come this fast? An experienced guy like him?

The thought built upon all the other steamy thoughts she'd been piling up within her all night, and they rose up and up, wobbling like a stack that wouldn't hold.

When he climaxed, digging his fingers into her hips and surrendering with one last rough, hard string of curses, she kept going, going, piling heated bliss upon heated bliss, wobbling inside, unbalanced. As she began to fall apart, she laughed, happier than she'd ever been—

An explosion pulled her open, a pillar of fire seething into every corner of her, even into places she hadn't known existed before now. Charred pieces of her floated, still burning as they brushed her, leaving scars of heat.

Leaving her slumped against Cash, her face in his hair.

He was sweating, too. At some point during her orgasm, he'd gotten his hands under the back of her skirt, and he was palming her rear end. His fingers danced awfully close to her folds, and she waited for him to touch her again.

But he didn't.

Suddenly, she started to get the uh-ohs. Was this where he'd act all badass and tell her to get the hell out of his car now that he'd screwed her? Would he call her a slut and brag to his friends about nailing her?

Worst of all, would he tell them that she wasn't half as good as his more experienced women?

When her phone rang from somewhere on the floor, muffled in her purse, she rolled off of him. Her hair was so finger-molested that it slumped to the side of her face, hiding her from view.

She grabbed her phone as he started to put himself back together.

“Hello?”

“Molly? Where are you?” It was Sofia. “You should've been back here by now!”

Dammit. “I'm sorry, Sof, I—”

“I've been calling for the last fifteen minutes. Why didn't you answer?”

She'd gotten so carried away she hadn't even heard the ringtone. “I . . . misplaced my phone, but here it is. We took a little longer getting out of the saloon than I thought.”

A chuckle came from the other side of the car, where Cash had gotten back behind the wheel. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw that he'd undone an empty sports drink bottle, probably putting the used condom in there. He capped it, tossed it in back, then started the engine. They didn't go anywhere.

She realized that was because he might've been waiting for her to put her own self back together, buttoning her blouse and adjusting her skirt. She was still slick, and the only thing that seemed to be in normal shape were the strappy heels she'd never taken off.

Embarrassment flushed her. Regret.

What now?

“I swear, Sof,” she said, taking care of this particular issue first, “I'll be back in less than twenty-five.”

“We'll be in the room, worried sick.”

Molly hung up, then quickly took care of her clothing. All the while, she couldn't take her gaze off the lock of hair she'd given to Cash. It seemed so innocent on the dashboard, so out of place, just like
she
had been under an hour ago.

But, after what she'd just done, she wasn't that Molly anymore.

Was she?

Cash had never gone through an afterglow like this—a postsex epilogue that could only be described as “efficient.”

After Molly's friends had put an effective end to the date, she had buttoned up, got back to business, and asked him to drive her to the hotel. She'd even turned on the CD player without asking, drowning out the car with music instead of pillow talk as they took to the interstate.

Had he done something to make her act so distant? The sex had been good, boisterous, explosive even, and he wouldn't have objected if it'd lasted longer. But Molly had some kind of magic touch that'd turned him into a seventeen-year-old kid who couldn't hold his rocket in check. And when her friends had called to get her back to the hotel?

Game over. No more chance of extra innings.

He'd gotten what he'd wanted, though, and that should've been enough.

Soon, he had them on the Strip, and he pulled up to the stoplight in front of Caesars Palace, still trying to figure out what he should say to her now that the day was done and their time was up. He snuck a glance at her, and she was still quiet, even kind of dignified, accepting of what'd happened between them. But what had he been expecting from a woman like her? That she would bitch about him “putting pressure on her for sex” or that she would repeat over and over again that she never did things like this and she couldn't believe she'd let him seduce her?

In the shaded neon, he thought he caught a hint of a smile on her face, but it vanished when he looked closer.

Shit, Molly confused him, mostly because of the way
he
reacted to
her
. Sure, his dick was more than happy, but for some reason the old cock wasn't happy enough. Maybe it was the way Molly smelled. He couldn't get enough of her skin, especially after she'd been sweating and rubbing against him. Pheromones, they called them, right? Chemicals the body produced that signaled attraction. But why didn't anyone else's pheromones ever make him want to drive off with her in his car, taking her to a place where he could fuck her until he was finally tired of her?

The light turned green, and he drove into the entrance. The white majesty of the casino's coliseum-like walls and the fancy statues greeted them, and he realized that, once Molly was out his door, he was never going to see this woman again.

As he came to a stop in back of a line of cars, he glanced at the lock of blond hair on top of his dashboard. He also had her bra and panties if he got too sentimental, which was bullshit. His cock just wanted another go, that's all.

She turned to him, a smile plastered on her face. She'd smoothed down her hair and checked her makeup on the way back, but he'd kind of liked her messy.

Moaning.

Coming for him.

He tamped down his continuing greed for her as a valet approached from down the car line.

Molly cleared her throat. “Well, it was interesting.”

Cool and official.

“Yeah, it was.” Should he say anything else, like,
How about one more for the road?

But he'd never needed to work for a woman, and he wasn't about to start doing it. “You have yourself a good vacation, Molly P. Preston. Don't get into any more trouble.”

“Aw. You say that as if I was planning on completely ruining my reputation.” She put her fingers on the door handle.

He realized that he knew next to nothing about her, and it was a shame, really, because he'd never met a woman like Molly. What other surprises did she have in store for someone?

As she got out of the car, sending him a casual wave, he could've sworn that she looked an extra second at the hair on his dashboard. And then, with a slam of his door, she was gone.

The valet came to his window, and Cash rolled it down so he could let the uniformed kid know that he wouldn't be staying. But then he glimpsed Molly walking toward the marble steps that led to the casino, her hips encased by that conservative skirt, her beautiful ass swaying back and forth.

She'd felt so good under his hands with all that soft, fragrant skin.

The valet spoke. “How're you doing tonight, sir?”

Impulsively, Cash took out his money clip and opened the car door, going outside. “Doing great but not staying long. Keys are in the ignition.”

“Yes, sir.” The kid wrote out a ticket as Cash gave him a tip. The valet smiled and held up the twenty-dollar bill. “Thank you very much.”

After grabbing the ticket, Cash was out of there, taking long steps toward the casino, where Molly had already disappeared behind the tinted doors.

In the foyer, a blast from the air conditioner hit him, and a bronze statue of Caesar raised its hand, attracting tourists who rubbed its skin for luck. But Cash's gaze was far beyond that. He'd spotted Molly breezing past a row of gaming tables on the floor ahead.

Was this a good idea? To chase her down like a desperate man and . . . do what? Ask her for another hour?

All he knew was that he couldn't let her go—not yet—and he pursued her to the floor, catching up to her as she was passing the cashier's cage, matching her stride.

It took her a second to realize someone was next to her, and she did a double take at him. She was crossing her arms in front of her chest, no doubt because he'd taken her bra and she wanted to make up for the thinness of her blouse.

“What're you doing here?” she asked.

“The least I can do is make sure you get to your room safely. I never leave my dates hanging.”

Lame. But it was the only excuse he could think of.

She slowed down, the clang of slot machines in the background, the smell of chlorine from fountains and smoke all around them. “It's perfectly safe in here—much safer than in your car. You realize that, don't you?”

“Hey, what kind of date would I be if I didn't walk you to your door?”

“Oh my God,” she said under her breath as she took off again, past some restaurants and toward a bunch of conventioneers who were coming from the business area. “You're acting as if there's still some debt to pay off for Arden.”

“Nope, no debt. Can't I just be a nice guy?”

“I don't know. Is that what you're built to be?”

Good question, but it wasn't like he was chasing a long-term thing here. There were plenty of kinky spots in this place for one last quickie, and being nice about it wasn't really the point.

When he didn't answer her, she kept heading through a hallway with specialty clothing and gift shops for people who'd struck it big and had the spending bug. But when he didn't quit, she came to a full stop, watching a crowd of businesswomen as they passed them, waiting until they were gone before she spoke.

“I thought guys like you toss out their ladies after they're done with them, Cash, and believe me, the truth doesn't offend me. I went into this knowing full well that what happened in the Thunderbird stays in the Thunderbird.”

She was only jumping to a conclusion he couldn't blame her for. “I've never treated a woman like trash—that'd be a slam to my own tastes, which aren't all that bad since they happen to include you. Besides, women have never complained to me about the morning after.”

“That's because you're already speeding down the road from them and you're too far away to hear.”

They were standing in the middle of the marbled passage, and he moved to the side so others could pass. Molly did the same, keeping her arms over her chest.

Her skin was creamy, and he gave into temptation, skimming a finger down her arm. Goose bumps followed his touch. Looked like Molly hadn't gotten enough of him, either. He'd been right about how attracted she was to him all along. So much for her being just a tease.

“If I didn't know any better,” he said, “I'd say my persistence does something for you.”

“Right, it makes me think you're a dog who's after more bone. Didn't your friend Gideon the cowboy call you a hound at the saloon?”

“He might've insinuated it.”

With the lightest of caresses, he brought his fingers back up her arm. The fine hairs on her skin stood at attention.

“Stop that,” she said.

“What? Getting you horny again?”

She glanced around, even though his voice hadn't been that loud.

He continued. “Just admit it. You want more, too. The night didn't last long enough.”

When she opened her mouth to sass him, nothing came out. Then she tried again. “This night lasted way too long. Just ask my friends, who are, by the way, waiting for me.”

“They've been admirably patient. And they can be even more patient if we . . .”

“What? Go for it in the dressing room of one of these stores?” She gestured toward a display of designer cocktail gowns in one of the windows. “Or maybe we could duck behind a statue of a naked god and make like an orgy. How about that?”

He laughed. She had a way of putting things.

“It's not funny, Cash.”

“I like how you say my name, especially the way you did back in the Thunderbird when you were—”

“I
remember
.” She calmed herself. “Tonight wasn't . . . I mean, I wasn't even calling out your real name. I don't even know who you are, and I'm sure that's fine with some girls who're used to one-night stands, but . . .” She looked around again, but there was a lull in the traffic. “I'm not those girls. At least, I don't plan to be again.”

So she
was
having postcoital guilt. Her superiority to “those girls” was crumbling, but she'd get over the second thoughts about what they'd done. He knew a lot of ways to help her.

He lowered his voice, getting closer to her. “You're definitely not like most girls, Molly. Also, you damned well know my name. I wrote it out on that napkin.”

“Beauregard Campbell.”

He shrugged it off. “Nobody's called me that since . . .”

Since the last and only woman he'd cared about. But mainly since he was young enough to have people use his full name to yell at him whenever he got in trouble. Foster moms, foster dads . . . The only authority figures he'd never heard that name from were his real parents, who'd given him up when he was barely a few months old.

Screw them.

Molly had tilted her head, giving him a strange look, a curious one, like she was wondering why he'd shifted moods. Like she was actually interested.

He chuffed. “Don't waste your time.”

“About what?”

About thinking he was interesting.

Her phone rang, and he was saved by the pop-song ringtone. She glanced at the screen. His time had obviously run out, and he couldn't buy any more like he had at the poker table today.

As her phone rang again, he realized that she belonged in places he didn't, with people who wanted to bring her back into their own world now.

She looked at him one more time with that same curious, interested expression, and he wondered if he'd given away too much on his face. And when she took a halting step toward him, then stood on her toes, his heartbeat suspended.

She pressed a soft kiss on his lips, then backed away, leaving his mouth tingling.

“I really did have fun,” she said, crossing her arms over her blouse again.

Then, after an awkward beat, she was off, leaving him with a memory of tonight and the few souvenirs she'd left in his car.

And a craving that wasn't going away.

***

The next morning, Molly found herself at the quietest breakfast table in the whole town.

It wasn't because she'd decided that she wouldn't be giving Arden and Sofia every detail about the date last night, either. No, long before Arden had brought Molly and Sofia across the boulevard to Harrah's for this comped meal, things had definitely not been chatty in general, especially after Sofia and Molly had woken up to find Arden gone from the room at 6AM.

When they'd gotten her on the phone, it turned out she'd only been downstairs on a video poker machine, but the news had made Sofia go quiet, probably because she thought Arden had done enough gambling for all of them. Molly had asked Sof for more of an explanation, but she'd merely gone in the shower and said that she was only “overreacting” and not to pay any attention to her moodiness. It was just that yesterday had stressed her out.

Strangeness was definitely afoot, but Molly had thought it was mainly because she'd avoided filling them in on everything that'd happened on her date with Cash. It wasn't that she was embarrassed for losing her control with him—well, maybe she was—but it was her secret, and hers alone, for now.

There was a chance neither of them would understand anyway. Sofia, in particular, would only ask things like
How could you?
and
Why did you?
and,
Oh my God, did he wear a condom?
Arden could go either way, but Molly just wanted to revel in the fantasy a little bit longer before her friends could bring her back to reality.

Yet that wasn't all . . . It was hard for Molly to explain, but it was as if this erotic secret gave her even more power than she'd felt last night . . . or ever. The same went for the moment when Cash had followed her inside the casino. Even now her pulse went wacky thinking about it, but that paled next to how she'd become one big, banging heartbeat when she'd realized that he hadn't been able to let her go without giving her one last try.

Knowing she'd been good enough at sex to have a man chasing her down had been heady, especially since every guy she'd been with hadn't exactly praised her bang-bang skills. Actually, she'd always believed she wasn't that great at sex, so last night had been a revelation of sorts. So had the moment when she'd asked Cash about his real name and he'd gotten a look on his face that had gripped a soft spot in her chest. Almost a haunted expression that'd made his green eyes darken.