Slow Ride (Fast Track #5)(19)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Okay. Expect the unexpected. That’s what he had to remind himself with Tuesday. He wasn’t sure whether to be mildly uncomfortable with her quirkiness or to laugh. He took the middle of the road. “You forgot your riding crop.”

He was kidding.

She was not.

She went into her apartment and picked up a crop off the coffee table. Smacking it on a sofa pillow, she grinned. “No worries, I have it right here.”

Yeah, that was his c**k standing up and taking notice. “You look mighty comfortable using that.”

“I know. I have to admit I’m enjoying it.” She thwacked the pillow again, so hard that it jumped a little.

Diesel should have been wincing, but instead he found his erection swelling. There was something incredibly hot about her swinging that. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Oh, come on. You know you want me to discipline you.” With that shocking statement, she breezed past him toward the front door.

After a split second frozen in time where all his blood rushed south and his tongue swelled too thick to use for speech, Diesel recovered and moved in front of Tuesday, cutting her off.

“I think you’re the one who needs to be shown a firm hand.”

Her eyes widened, both with surprise and lust. “Excuse me?”

She had thought he wasn’t going to call her on it, that was obvious. She was one of those who said outrageous things and relied on the fact that most men wouldn’t cross that boundary with her.

He would. “You heard me. Don’t announce a game unless you really want to play it.”

Her hat slipped a little on her head as she stared at him. He stared back, his legs spread.

She swallowed audibly, then she recovered and gave him a sly smile. “Who says I don’t want to play?”

Then play they would. Diesel didn’t pause to reflect on whether or not it was a good idea. He was going with his gut, or more realistically, his cock. Lust had taken hold of him, and every muscle in his body was tight with desire for her. Yanking the crop out of her hand, he told her, “This belongs to me then.”

She gave a sharp intake of air, but she wasn’t appalled. She was aroused by his move, it was clear in the way she rocked slightly toward him, her eyes dark with desire. “Don’t steal my crop.”

“You let me take it.”

Indignation crossed her face. “I did not—”

But Diesel cut her off. He leaned forward, took her head with his hand, and pulled her until the remaining distance between them was gone. When his lips touched hers, his eyes drifted closed on a silent moan. Damn, she tasted good. Her lips were perfect, warm and receptive and full.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but he wasn’t intending for it to be rough. Until Tuesday bit him, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip—not in protest, but to spur him on.

Then all bets were off. Burying his hands in her hair, Diesel kissed her with all the pent-up frustration he’d been feeling. Her hands dug into his ass, her br**sts shoved up against his chest, while her tongue darted inside his mouth, stroking him into lustful mania.

Damn. She was giving as good as she got, and Diesel felt a low growl rising in his throat. He was so f**king turned on by this woman, it was scary. He wanted to shove her down onto the floor, yank down her stupid riding pants, and ram himself into her. In an effort to stop himself from doing just that, Diesel let go of her hair, broke off the kiss, and sucked in a ragged breath.

Her lips were shiny and wet, her eyes huge, her breathing as frantic as his own.

Sliding the riding crop between her legs, he rubbed it against the V of her thighs, the tight pants showing him he was precisely where he wanted to be.

Her eyes drifted closed as she enjoyed the slow stroking of the rod against her clitoris.

Her legs drifted apart. When her hips started to move, creating more of an impact of the crop against her body, Diesel pulled it away.

“Let’s go before we’re late,” he told her.

Her jaw dropped. But she didn’t protest and say a word. Her eyes narrowed. But she brushed past him, her br**sts sliding along his arm, her tongue slipping out to tease along his bottom lip.

Diesel tensed. If she touched his c**k or bit him again, he wasn’t going to make it to the damn night at the races. He was going to spend the next two hours f**king Tuesday well and good.

But she didn’t touch or bite him. She did pull the crop back out of his hands. “I believe this is mine.”

With that, she walked out the front door, her ass tight and high in those stretchy pants, her head thrown back, her hair flowing.

Diesel had no choice but to follow, aching with lust, and damn impressed with every inch of both her body and her attitude.

He had to admit he could no longer remember why he’d ever shied away from the thought of having sex with her, other than her drunken state. To hell with his bad knee. She could ride him. He could do her bent over the couch. Whatever it took to get him inside her. That was his goal for the night, because now that she’d finally let him kiss her, he wanted way more. He wanted everything.

“Oh, shoot, hang on.” Tuesday turned around and walked past him back into her apartment.

Figuring she had forgotten something, Diesel just idled on the front step, waiting for her to reappear with God only knew what.

What she came back with was a plastic kitchen storage container, which she handed to him. It was filled with cookies.

“What are these?” he asked eyeing the treats as she closed her apartment door.

“I told you I’d bake you cookies if you gave me a shoulder rub at the brunch. You did, so I did. I always keep my promises.” She sailed past him.

Diesel was both touched and turned on. She’d made him cookies. He wasn’t sure a woman had ever made him cookies before. And he’d been stupid enough to let her off the hook for the second half of her offer, which was to eat raw dough off her naked body. His mouth was watering at the very thought.

It was more than a little hellish sitting in the church basement next to her thirty minutes later with a steady stream of dirty thoughts marching through his head. His aunt and uncle were across from him, their eyes wide with curiosity, and the infamous Ellie was alternating between glaring at Tuesday and smiling flirtatiously at him.

Tuesday was in rare form, charming his aunt and uncle with her friendly smiles and witty banter, her hat tilted forward as she made conversation. Diesel was well aware of the fact that her riding crop was leaning on her chair, on the opposite side from where he was sitting, so he couldn’t reach it.