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Ride Me Dirty

By:Vanessa Vale

Bridgewater County  –  Book 1



The hallway was dark, the pulsing beat of a new dance number thumped  through the wall at my back as he held me there, trapped between the  unforgiving plaster and his hot, lean frame. His lips were hard and  dominant, demanding my surrender, even as I squirmed in his hold. He was  the only man that I wanted to disembowel with my stiletto and fuck with  equal need.

"Don't move." He pressed forward, his solid body pinning me to the wall,  his rock hard cock a temptation I couldn't ignore as I ground my hips  against him, trying to get closer. God, yes. More.

"Does this bossy shit work with all the girls?"

"Your pussy's all hot and wet, doll. Don't deny it."

His dark eyes met mine and the look I gave him should have withered his  balls. Instead, it made him grin and I swear I felt his cock pulse.  "Shut it down, doll. Every thought in your head. Work. Life. Everything  but my dick pressed against you. Shut it the fuck down before I take you  over my knee."

I narrowed my eyes and was equally appalled and aroused. "You wouldn't."

The thin material of his suit pants was almost no barrier between us as I  raised my legs and wrapped them around his hips like a woman in heat. I  had no idea arguing would be so fucking hot. My skirt slid up and I  rubbed my bare inner thighs against his hips, eager for more.

Lifting my arms over my head, he trapped my wrists in one hand, freeing  the other to slide to my waist as he kissed my neck, licked it. Sucked  on it. There was going to be a mark there come morning. I arched to give  him better access as his fingers left a trail of heat on their way to  cup my full breast beneath my blouse. He shoved the thin material up his  calloused palms on my flesh. My hard nipple begged for his attention.


Holy shit. Was that me? I didn't recognize that voice. I'd never sounded  that desperate to be touched, that needy. And work …  what work? Nothing  turned my mind off faster than a man gently biting my nipple. And not  just any man. Sam Kane. God, he'd been a childhood crush, the star of my  schoolgirl fantasies, but that had been fifteen years ago.

He'd been a boy then. Now, now he was all man and I was climbing him  like a tree. We'd spent the past hour arguing and he instinctively knew  how to push every one of my buttons. Instead of kneeing him in the  balls, I was in the hallway of a public place letting him touch and  taste and lick me.

"That's it. The only thing you should be thinking about is this." His  lips claimed mine as his free hand slid lower, down my abdomen. His  blunt fingertips slipped over my skirt to my thigh, then up, higher, and  stroked along the lace of my panties.

His hand tightened around my wrists, his tongue plundered my mouth and  two fingers nudged my panties to the side and slid into me. I was so  damn hot for him I nearly came from that one rough thrust.

I couldn't stop the throaty moan that escaped me as he pulled his  fingers free and fucked me with them again. He was opinionated, bossy  and annoying as fuck. He even stole my cell to keep me from working. So  why was I panting his name as he did what he wanted?

Grinding on his hand, I tried to get him to stroke my clit, to take me  the rest of the way, but he broke off our kiss and bit my bottom lip  lightly, just enough to let me know he was in charge. "Not yet, Katie.  Not until I give you permission."

Permission? How dare he! I dripped all over his fingers.

My pussy clenched and he pulled back, thrusting twice more, ever so  careful to keep his hand away from my clit. I moaned in frustration and  he nibbled at my jaw. "That's the sound I want to hear from you." He  fingered my clit once, with a swift, light touch that just drove me  higher. I whimpered and he returned to take my lips, speaking against  them as his fingers moved in and out of my wet pussy gently now, so damn  slowly I wanted to cry.

He kissed me, hard, then unwrapped my legs from his waist, then moved  lower. Letting go of my wrists he knelt in front of me and lifted my  skirt to my waist. My lace panties he simply shoved to the side as he  held me in place with one hand on my abdomen. The other he used to  spread me open for his mouth.

"Oh shit," I murmured, staring at his dark head between my thighs, feeling his hot breath fan over my pussy.

I should tell him to stop. We were in the damn hallway of a bar. True, a  back hallway, but anyone could walk in at any moment. I should behave  like a proper professional and tell him no, tell him to wait until we  were somewhere more private, more-

He sucked my clit into his mouth and flicked the nub with his tongue and  I tangled my fingers in his hair. Head back, I didn't realize I'd  closed my eyes until I heard a soft chuckle coming from my right.         



Shocked, I turned to find the hot cowboy I'd met on the plane earlier  watching us with an interested glow in his eyes. He leaned against the  wall, arms crossed. How long had he been watching? Too shocked to move,  instead I whimpered as my clit was released, then sucked back into Sam's  mouth. Did he know we weren't alone? If he did, he was just too damn  skilled to even think about being ashamed. Pushing at his head, I wanted  him to move away, then with one little flick of his tongue, I tugged on  his hair, holding him closer. I was on the brink, teetering on the edge  of my orgasm.

The cowboy smiled and closed the distance. The hallway felt crowded. No,  I felt crowded with two men paying very close attention to me. One guy  had his head between my legs and making me come with just his tongue,  the other blocking out the world with his broad shoulders. He lifted his  hand to my cheek, then stroked his thumb over my bottom lip. "I see  you've met my cousin."

Cousin? He grinned, then he kissed me, hot, wet and deep as Sam worked  my wet pussy with his tongue, pushing me right over and into an earth  shattering orgasm.

As Sam got me off, his cousin, Jack, stifled my screams with a kiss. I was in deep, deep trouble here.



Ten Hours Earlier …

"This is the captain speaking. We're in line for takeoff, but as you can  see out the window, the weather isn't playing nice and the tower has  put a ground stop on all flights. Not sure exactly how long this  thunderstorm will hold us up. Looks like we'll be here for at least half  an hour, folks. We'll keep you posted."

Great. Peeking out the airplane's small window, I could see the roiling  charcoal gray clouds that prevented us from leaving Denver. I'd dashed  from one gate to the far distant commuter area to reach my connecting  flight in time, only to be waylaid like this on the tarmac. I glanced at  my watch, then sighed. I didn't have time for this. Hell, I didn't have  time to go to Montana, but I was going just the same.

Leaning back into the uncomfortable headrest, I shut my eyes and tried  to breathe away my frustrations. I was up half the night finishing the  depositions that had to be filed this morning, then spent another two  hours closing out as many emails as possible. By the time I'd finished  that, I still had to pack. I had nothing, nothing, that was appropriate  for the Wild West besides a pair of jeans and running shoes, so after an  hour of fretting, I just threw a little bit of everything into a bag.

I'd slept a measly two hours when the alarm went off at four-thirty,  only to find the bridge from Manhattan to Queens was having overnight  repairs and the traffic was backed up. Then airport security was long  and I'd suffered the up close and personal pat down because of the  titanium pins in my leg. When I had finally reached the gate, my boss  had called to complain about my lack of face-time with my current client  list. I wanted to make partner badly enough that I actually considered  abandoning my suitcase and just heading into the office, but when my  flight was called to board, I knew I had to get at least one mess in my  life cleaned up. And now I was stuck in a thunderstorm.

As I tried to rub away the sandpaper feel behind my lids, I attempted  the deep breathing techniques I'd learned in yoga class. The classes  were supposed to be calming, but they never worked. I was never calm.  And right now, the canned air inside this tiny airplane was getting  hotter and hotter, sinking into my lungs, suffocating me. I was stuck  and there was nothing I could do about it. Shit. I hated things that  were beyond my control. I wasn't claustrophobic, but I felt trapped just  the same. A huge clap of thunder shook the plane, just before rain  pummeled the metal like a thousand tiny hammers. Was God trying to tell  me something?


Breathe in slowly through the nose, hold it, hold it, let it out through  the mouth. Breathe in … sandalwood and leather with just a hint of warmth  I was sure had to be completely unique to him. I sat next to Mr. Cowboy  Hottie and he smelled too good to focus on anything else-especially  with my eyes closed. The scent wasn't cologne, soap maybe, and had me  completely distracted. How could anyone concentrate on yoga breathing  when Tall, Dark and Handsome and I were bumping shoulders?