Page 37 of A Blue Ribbon Romance

The only sound that came from her as he began to lap at her center was an incomprehensible gurgle. Just as his mouth was wide enough to engulf hers, so too was it wide enough to cover her entire sex, from slit to clit. He was controlled when he kissed her, did his best to keep things from becoming messy, but that sort of restraint was for when they were both upright. He was going to go ham on her pussy every single time, and sloppy was going to find a whole new definition.

Broad licks with the flat of his tongue, pushing through her folds, ensuring he had tasted every corner of her heat. Unlike a human, his tongue was long and thick enough that he was able to push it into her, breaching her like a cock, fucking her with his tongue. Somewhere above him on the bed, Violet was making a noise of the cross between a moment and a sob, and the legs he held open were shaking against his palms. When he brought his tongue back to work against her clit, he knew she was done for.

“I want you to come on my tongue, Violet. No matter what we do, no matter how hot I am, and no matter how badly you want me to give you my cock, you’re always going to come first, always against my mouth, understand?”

When he began to suck against the plump little pearl, her control broke. Her whole body shook, and he was certain she would have dropped to the mattress if he weren’t holding up her thighs. The sound that ripped from her was primal, and it activated his beast mode. He was going to do this to her again this weekend in his bed, probably several times over, filling her with bull cock before her convulsions even had a chance to fade completely. He couldn’t wait. His mouth flooded with a rush of her release, a slippery slick nectar, evidence of pleasure, and he couldn’t get enough. He lapped it up right from the source, sliding his tongue back into her to draw it out, carrying it across her folds. He slid his tongue into her clenching pussy several times more, on the final path bringing it back, up her ass, tonguing her tight little pucker until she seemed to go boneless above him. Rourke wanted to coat his cock in her honey, the best lube in the world wanted to slide home and spend himself inside her. . . But it was time to go home.

She put up no resistance when he tucked her into bed, drawing the blankets up to her nose. She looked so small in her miniature bed, and he couldn’t wait to see how perfect she looked in his, pressed to his heat. “Good night, sweetheart. Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The air outside her apartment building was still balmy and heavy, the way it always was in the city. Rourke sucked in a deep lungful of air as he walked the several blocks back to his car, attempting to clear his head. He grimaced, nearly gagging, realizing he should have known better. It smelled like garbage and grease, not at all like the ever-present smell of coffee and yeast that hung over Main Street, or the cold smell of water tumbling over the rocks at the waterfall. The smell ofgreeninvaded the nose as one drove through Cambric Creek in the other direction, past the farms and the winery, pine and fresh cut hay, thick green grass and freshly turned earth, and the rolling green hills that stretched all the way to Greenbridge Glen. It was cooler than the city, fresher, not bogged down by mass transit and teeming bodies, restaurants and trash and a haze of smog.

Bridgeton should have smelled like the sweet creaminess of her skin, the delicious scent of her sex, the clean smell of her hair. It should have smelled like the strawberry glacé she wore on her lips, or the wine they’d shared over dinner, the powdered sugar on the beignets he’d bought her at the cafe on the corner.

Instead, all he smelled was trash, fitting for the life he’d left behind here. He’d never admitted to anyone, not even Lurielle, how unhappy he’d been when he’d lived in the city. How being overly ambitious at work eroded any joy he took from what he did, nor how quickly his marriage had turned. Unhappiness was the defining characteristic of his time in Bridgeton, and he would been completely accepting of never actually setting foot in the place again . . . but now there were other considerations.

He wondered if she would ever consider relocating. After all, Violet herself had said she didn’t love living in the city, and she seemed to like Cambric Creek very much. It was selfish and self-centered, but he wanted to put Bridgeton behind him for good. Shake off that unhappiness once and for all, close that chapter of his life, close the whole damned book.

. . . And open a new book with Violet, one with a happy ending. A new love for his new home.And they lived happily ever after.

Chapter 12

Hewasdistractedthesecond he got out of bed the following morning. He barely remembered getting into bed in the first place and had no idea how it was that he’d been able to sleep. Somehow though, he had eked out enough hours of rest to make getting up for work in the morning even possible, but shortly after he arrived, he realized how absolutely futile it was to stay.

He could think of nothing but her. Nothing but her and the weekend to come, which in and of itself was exceptionally pleasurable to contemplate. He was going to have her on her back, on her knees, on his face, in whatever room of the house they happened to be in at the time the impulse struck them both, and he would not quit until she was satisfied.

Contemplating beyond the weekend, however, was a trickier thing. The thought of Violet staying with him brought a concerning rush of heat to his chest, a peculiar warmth that enveloped him fully, and he wondered if he needed to be documenting symptoms for the cardiologist. Beyond the latent fear of a cardiac episode, the supposition over how cold he might feel once she was gone made him anxious, and unlike her, anxious wasnothis factory setting.

He was excited to have her in his bed, but he was more excited to have her in hishome, and the notion of her not wanting to come back after they crossed this line was one he couldn’t let go of.

After all, Lurielle wasn’t wrong. He was bossy, abrasive, and unsmiling, and Violet was none of those things. She was sunny and optimistic, cheerful and friendly, and no matter how much he tried to puzzle it through, he couldn’t understand what it was that she saw in him at all.

She was a breath of sunshine, and he was an afternoon storm. She was the creek when it tumbled over rocks and curved around embankments in the forest, gentle and trickling, picturesque and pretty. He was the thunder of water at the base of the rocks, a deluge that washed away everything gentle in its path, hard and unyielding, only smiling in his head.

They had been dating for a month, and it was still impossibly early days, but Rourke felt as if he had lived several lifetimes since the milking farm had opened, and the way he felt now was in complete contrast to where he had sat only a few months earlier. He knew exactly what he wanted now. He was too old for games, too old for indecisiveness, and was certain of his objective. He wanted her, and the risk that she might not want him in return made him feel sick.

The beauty of being one’s own boss was that no one was around to tell him to focus. There was no one around to tell him anything at all, and at length, he decided that the walls of his office were closing in on him slowly. He wasn’t getting anything accomplished that day, and he would be even more worthless the following when she was due to arrive. And there was no one around to tell him that he had to stay.

“Leorna, I’m leaving.” His assistant’s eyebrows raised, and her mouth opened, but Rourke kept going, not giving her a chance to give him the Spanish Inquisition. “I won’t be back today or tomorrow. Why don’t you knock off early this afternoon? It’s a beautiful day.” He grinned when her mouth snapped shut. Her curiosity over his whereabouts wasn’t as great as the desire to also play hooky for the afternoon. “I won’t be available until Monday, and if anyone needs me before then, they can email, and I’ll answer when I’m back in the office. Have a good weekend.” He had already gathered up his bag, leaving her no opportunity to argue as he headed out the door.

Lurielle had a landscaper, a talkative Cyclops who covered more than half of the houses on their block. Rourke had the man’s business card on the refrigerator, there in case he ever changed his mind, but he liked taking care of his own lawn. He felt connected to his grandfather and his grandfather before, the MacMathers, who had tilled the land for generations. He’d broken that tradition and moved away from all he knew as a child, and mowing his suburban lawn was hardly the same as raising one’s family off the fat of the land, but it made him feel better to do it himself.

He was just finishing the front lawn when Khash’s car rolled into the driveway next door. “I suppose the upside is that you have a nice day for it,” the big orc called out as Rourke powered the mower down, pushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. “We’re headed to the cabin for the weekend, but you know she’s been goin’ on about having you over with your new lady friend if she’s still in the picture.”

Rourke glared, but Khash only laughed, throwing up his hands defensively.

“Now, don’t go pitchin’ daggers at me! I’m only saying it’s none of our business if she is or if she isn’t. I told Lurielle she needs to give you a bit of space; these early days only happen once. I remember how it was with us. Every time we went to dinner, I felt like I was sittin’ in a pile of oysters, all with the brightest pearls. That’s how each little nugget feels, every little new thing you learn about them. Keep it in mind, though. She wants to play hostess, probably grill your little human.”

Rourke laughed. He knew Lurielle well enough to be confident that she would never make Violet feel uncomfortable or attacked and that his friend was eager to get along with the object of his affection, but she was just as nosy as he was at the end of the day.

“She’s coming over tomorrow, actually. Staying for the weekend. First time.” He swallowed down the huge smile that was fighting to take up residence on his face, a giddiness pressing against his lungs at merely saying it out loud. “Got any tips for me?”

He would have been stupid to ignore how happy Lurielle seemed with the big orc, how happy she’d been with him from the start. Khash had done something right to snag her, and he’d kept her right from the moment they’d met.You’re just like him, you know. You and Khash.He still didn’t believe that was true, not in the slightest, but maybe in this, if he were being honest with himself and never had to admit it aloud where anyone could hear him, he wouldn’t mind having a bit of Khash’s Khashness.

The big orc cocked his head, looking Rourke over appraisingly. “Well, we established she’s not your employee, so at least you’re doing better than I’d thought initially.”

Rourke scowled, and Khash laughed.Scratch that. Nothing like him at all.

Khash shrugged blithely, ignoring the way Rourke’s face had screwed up into a sneer. “You’ve been dating for more than a month now, right? So you’re clearly doing something right. She hasn’t gone runnin’ for the hills, and you’re not avoiding her with work trips, so whatever track you’re on seems to be the right one.”

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