Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance) Read online

  I've only had a few sexual partners, none of them particularly memorable. I've never even had an orgasm with a guy, though I've read that's a common problem for women. I lost my virginity right at the end of my senior year of high school to a boy at a neighboring school up in Maine. We were dating and I think we were both just curious. We broke up when we both left for different colleges, and then I slept with a couple guys in college, though neither of those relationships lasted longer than six months.

  My phone beeps with a new text, and my fingers shake as I glance at it. Boone just texted me his address, and it's only a ten-minute walk from here. I don't reply, figuring it's better to leave him guessing whether or not I'll follow through. I stand, regretting that I'm still wearing my heels, and start the walk.

  My nerves only build as I head over to his place. I feel like I need to take a long, cold shower. I mean, a booty call with Boone Tillman? What am I thinking? Not that dozens of other women in town haven't done the same thing, but that only makes it worse somehow. I don't want to string him along because that would be unfair, but I still want to be special. Well, I can't have it both ways! Despite all the misgivings rattling around in my head, I still keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  I check the street numbers of the houses I'm passing and finally stop in front of Boone's. The house is a large English Regency like my father's, though something about it looks newer. I wonder if he just finished renovating. I wipe my sweaty palms on the sides of my dress, and head up the steps.

  I lift the heavy door knocker, and strike it twice on the metal plate. A dark shape crosses the front window and my cheeks flush. Boone pulls the door open and smiles as he gestures me inside. He's taken off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his white dress shirt, leaving the ends untucked and exposing the ribbed tank top underneath.

  "Drink?" he asks, as he shuts the door.

  "Please," I reply, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. He steps around me and pushes open a door in the hallway.

  "Just finished the wine cellar. Pick out what you want," he says, nodding down the steps.

  "If you say so," I smile, and head down. The left side of the basement looks like a bachelor's paradise, with a pool table and long leather couch, but I push open a door on the right that leads to a climate-controlled room, covered wall-to-wall with wine bottles, and some on racks in the middle.

  "You're quite a mystery," he says, as I walk along the wall, brushing my hand over the bottles.

  "Am I?" I ask, genuinely surprised.

  "You have no internet footprint."

  "Internet footprint?" I ask, circling back around to a bottle of red that caught my eye.

  "There's nothing online about you. It's like you don't exist."

  "You looked me up?" I smile, feeling a small surge of power. He shrugs. "I'm very real, I assure you." I hand him the bottle I chose, and wait for his reaction. The corner of his mouth twitches as he examines my face, trying to discern if I picked out the most expensive bottle he has on purpose or if it was an accident. "You said to pick out what I want," I point out.

  "I did indeed," he says, turning around. I follow him back up the steps and into the kitchen. "Where'd you learn so much about wine?"

  "My mother. She's spent so much money on wine that I keep telling her to buy a vineyard. It would be much more cost-effective."

  He laughs and takes a wine key out of the top drawer of the island, then winces. "Maybe I shouldn't laugh."

  "It's alright. I don't think she has any intention of changing now. At least she's not a mean drunk. And at least I didn't inherit the gene."

  "My mom's got that gene, too. But she does in for the harder stuff," he says, handing me a wine glass.

  "Were you scared you'd get it, too?"

  "When I was eighteen, I got my hands on a six-pack and drank all of it. I figured I might as well test myself early, you know? See if I liked it and if it was going to be a problem in the future so I could deal with it accordingly. I puked my guts out and never had any interest in having too much of it, or any other substance, ever again."

  "That was very... strategic of you," I note.

  "Well, I knew that making myself different than my parents was going to take some careful planning on my part, yes."

  "Is that what this house is about?" I ask, looking around.

  "What do you mean?" he asks with a frown.

  "Sorry, I just... I mean, it's beautiful. Immaculate. It just doesn't quite seem like you."

  "Huh," is all he says.

  I take a long sip of wine. "I'm sorry. I just don't know how to do this."

  "This?"

  "You know... a booty call, one-night stand thing."

  "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he says.

  I shoot him a look. "I'm here, aren't I?"

  He laughs. "Well, first thing's first. Head back toward the door and then turn right up the stairs."

  I smile and take a sip of my wine, but do as he says. "You going to walk me through a booty call step-by-step?" I ask over my shoulder.

  "Oh, yes, ma'am," he replies from behind me. "Alright, so you're gonna wanna keep going up these steps here, and then at the top of the landing take a right down to the room at the end of the hall."

  "Alright," I say, my foot landing on the second-to-last step.

  "And by now, you should be picturing my hands all over you," he says. I almost spit out my wine onto his beautiful hardwood floors. I hear him step up behind me, and begin to walk slower as I head down the hallway, the door at the end looming large in front of me. "And how you've never felt pleasure before like you're gonna feel tonight. And now you're going to push open this door and step into the room."

  I reach my hand forward and push the brass knob. I step onto a lush carpet, my heels wobbling slightly, and walk forward into his bedroom. I hear him shut the door behind me and turn around.

  "Next, take a long sip of that wine," he tells me. I raise it to my lips as he locks eyes with me. "Now put it over there on that table." I head over to it and gently place the glass on the wooden side table. "As you walk back over here, slowly undo your dress."

  My breath catches in my throat. Holy shit, this is really happening. And in all my fantasies, I never expected it to go down like this.

  Chapter Twelve

  I take a deep breath and turn around, my hands fumbling slightly as they reach for the bow on the side of my dress. I pull one side of it, and the fabric runs through my hands. I let the sides of the dress open as I walk back to where I was standing.

  "Now let it fall around your feet," he says, a harder edge to his voice. I roll my shoulders back, and the dress falls down my arms and pools around my feet. I wonder what he thinks of my body as he lets his eyes work slowly down from my neck, to my breasts, across my stomach, and down my legs. It took me a long time to grow into my gawkiness, but now I can take some pride in my long limbs. I take a deep breath. I don't need to be nervous. I can tell by the way he's staring at me that he likes what he sees...right? "Your bra," he says.

  Another flurry of nerves springs up in my belly. My little internal pep talk seems not to have worked. I reach my shaking fingers behind me and unhook my bra. I've done it a thousand times before, but time seems like it's moving through molasses right now. I reach my arms forward and let it drop to the floor in front of me in slow motion. I feel more exposed than I've ever felt in my life. Every nerve ending on my body seems to be up at attention.

  There's a long pause, and then he slowly raises his wine glass to his lips and takes a long sip. He walks over to the table and puts his glass next to mine, and then turns back. He reaches up and pulls his dress shirt off, casually tossing it onto a wing-backed chair next to him. If it weren't for his slacks and dress shoes, he looks just like he did when I first saw him on the construction site, his muscular arms exposed and his barrel chest stretching the material of his undershirt. He pulls at it to untuck it from his pants, and then whips it off over his head.
r />   I bite my lip as he walks slowly toward me. I never knew he had tattoos. A large compass rose sits on his right pectoral, and a tribal design extends from beneath it onto his ribcage and under his arm, incorporating some sort of bird, maybe a hawk, in its design, its wings corresponding with the angle of his ribs. Just before he reaches me, he stops and undoes his belt, pulling it slowly out of his pant loops. A wave of heat spreads from deep in my stomach throughout my body.

  He tosses the belt onto the ground, and reaches one hand around my waist, just like he did when he found me hiding behind the curtain. But this time he turns it vertically, and smooths his fingers down the side of my hip, over the narrow part of my cotton thong, and down my thigh. His gaze follows the action, and he steps closer to me so that I can feel the heat of his body hit the front of mine.

  I can't wait any longer. I step forward into him, my breasts pillowing against the ink on his chest. His arms wrap around me and come to rest on my bare ass. With one hand, he grips it roughly, and I feel the other wind around my hair, wrapping its length around his wrist and holding my head in place as he leans forward and kisses me.

  Our tongues intertwine immediately, desperately. I feel his erection press into me even as he holds me roughly in place. I wrap my arms around his thick neck and raise one of my legs around his stomach, the heel of my shoe digging into the top of his ass.

  I'm shocked to feel the tear of fabric as he rips my thong away. He presses one hand between us, and I feel him fumble into his pocket and then push his pants and boxers to the ground. He pulls his mouth away from mine, and I lean back, panting with desire. He reaches both hands down behind me and pulls my other leg up and around him, sliding his palms under my ass as he turns around and carries me to the nearest wall and presses my back against it.

  He releases one hand and brings a condom to his mouth, ripping it open with an animalistic grunt. He reaches down, and I press my hips toward him. Everything's happening so quickly, with no niceties or scented candles, but I've never been so ready in my life.

  I feel a massive pressure at my opening, and my eyes start to water as he presses inside me. Fuck, he's huge. Our eyes lock, and despite the intense hunger in his eyes, he moves his hips forward slowly, letting me adjust to his size. I let myself relax against him, resting my forehead on his as I attempt to take all of him in. I feel him adjust my hips upward slightly and pull my butt cheeks apart as his hips finally press against mine.

  He stays there for a moment, just barely rotating his hips. I raise my head and softly bite his ear, then softly suck on his lobe. He grunts and I feel his body tense as he struggles to hold himself back. I feel him pull away, leaving a slight stinging sensation down there, and then the pressure is back, filling me up completely. My toes curl inside my shoes as he reaches his depth again. The feeling is so exquisite and painful all at once.

  He withdraws again, and this time moves in faster. I'm not prepared, and let out a cry as he presses in. He pauses, unsure if he's hurt me.

  "Keep going, please," I urge him with a gasp. He grips my ass tighter, and thrusts in again. I dig my fingers into his unruly hair as he strokes inside me. My head falls back against the wall, and my chest arches upward. I moan as he takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and running his tongue around my areola. I press my lips together for a moment, worried about the noise I'm making, before I realize that there are no dorm roommates to concern myself with. We have the house all to ourselves.

  My mouth falls open as he moves to my other breast and begins to move inside me faster and faster. I can feel his hot breath against my sweat dappled neck as we move together. My mind goes blank, and all I can feel is him, only him. With an alarming shake, an orgasm moves through me. I feel my muscles ripple of their own accord and am barely aware of Boone grunting and releasing himself with a sudden warmth inside me.

  My head falls onto his damp shoulder, and I gasp for breath. For a moment, he leans against me, pressing me into the wall, but then I feel him step back, his arms moving gently around my back. Then I'm being lowered onto impossibly soft sheets, and he's pulling the covers over me. I nestle in, and he walks around to the other side of the bed and slips in beside me. Drowsily, I turn into him, tucking my head onto his shoulder as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me in tighter.

  "Is it always like that for you?" I ask. My head is swimming, and my mind is too muddy to act as a filter. I press my nose against his skin as I wait for him to answer. God, he smells so good. I wish I could bottle this scent and carry it around with me. I turn up to him, realizing he hasn't responded yet.

  "What do you mean?" he finally says.

  "Never had an orgasm with a guy before," I reply. "Feels...different," I add with a giggle.

  "Seriously?" he asks, turning onto one elbow to look down at me.

  "Mm," I reply incoherently.

  "You mean from sex, or from foreplay?"

  "Either. Both," I say with a small yawn. I blink my eyes open as I feel him staring down at me. Disconcertingly, when I look up at him, he's smiling, with an added dangerous glint in his eyes. "What?" I murmur, peering at him.

  "That was nothing," he grunts, and I feel his hand on my stomach, his calloused palm just below my belly button and his long fingers spread out wide.

  "No, that was definitely something."

  He laughs. "There are just so many ways to make you come," he says, and my breath catches as he begins to slide his hand downward.

  "Yeah?" is all I can say in reply, as my body lights up in response to his touch. I thought I'd been drained of pleasure for tonight, and am surprised by how quickly my body is coming back to life. My leg twitches as his fingertips graze the top of my pubic hair.

  "So many," he repeats, and his middle finger slides over my wet clit. I gasp, feeling electricity shoot out to my extremities. He begins to circle his finger slowly as he leans down to kiss me. Unlike earlier, he softly presses his lips over mine, then gently presses his tongue into my mouth. With every stroke, every kiss, my wetness grows until I'm aching for release.

  He pulls his mouth away. "I wonder how you taste," he says. My lips drop open as he ducks his head under the sheets. None of my boyfriends ever talked to me that way. Sex was always so polite, the lights shut discreetly off, and the moans kept to a minimum.

  I feel his breath hot against my inner thigh. His hands press against my knees and push my legs wide apart. I close my eyes and try to control my breathing, but then I feel his tongue flick across my clit, and my entire body jolts like I've been struck by lightning. I grasp for the sheets and grip them tightly in my hands, as though I need something to moor me to the bed and without them I might just float up and away.

  His tongue flicks across me again, eliciting a whimper that bubbles out from my mouth. His tongue presses down and begins to circle me. He moves it gently, and my pleasure builds up inside me almost to a breaking point, but he won't release me. I moan as I feel him slip a finger inside me. He strokes it against my g-spot, but not quite hard enough.

  "Boone, please," I beg, as the ache he's creating becomes almost painful. I tug the sheet aside and he looks up at me, my own wetness on his lips. Teasingly, he moves his head back down, staring at me as he flicks his tongue back and forth across my clit. "I need..." I gasp, as my hips press toward him pleadingly.

  "You need what?" he demands, his finger still circling inside me, hitting my g-spot with every rotation.

  "You. I need you, Boone," I moan. He reaches for his bedside table and pulls out another condom. As he rolls it on his hard cock with one hand, he grabs a pillow with the other and pushes it under my ass. With both his hands free, he takes my legs and puts my ankles onto his shoulders. One hand stays on one ankle, while the other moves back down to my clit. With his thumb, he begins to rub me back and forth harder and faster.

  Just as I'm about to come, I feel his cock pressing into me. My hands fly up and I press my palms against the headboard behind me. His thumb moves around and ar
ound as he thrusts inside me and I unspool around him, my back arching off the mattress as he simply circles his hips against me.

  He only gives me a second to rest before he's pulling his cock back out and plunging in again. He finds a rhythm, his hips and thumb moving together. I cry out, my body protesting. I want to come again, but my body is exhausted and holding me back.

  "You have to let yourself surrender to it," Boone says, reading me like a book. He drops my ankle, and bends down. My legs rest against the mattress as he rests his chest against me. His smell is comforting, and he softly kisses me as his hips continue to push into me. His hand moves to my face, his thumb circling under my chin as he rests his palm on my cheek and looks down at me. "Open your eyes, Callie," he murmurs.

  I do, and find his gaze so full of intensity that I'm locked in, entranced. He begins to grunt with each thrust, his jaw working to hold himself back until I'm there with him.

  "Yes, yes," I gasp.

  "Oh, fuck, Callie," he groans as he releases himself inside me and my body shakes against him. He collapses on top of me, letting his full weight rest on me as I wrap my legs and arms protectively around his thick, sweaty body.

  Finally he rolls over, extricating his limbs from mine. He reaches up and runs a finger across my lips, drowsily watching me with a smile. His eyes begin to close, and I stay frozen, watching him until he falls asleep.

  Every bone in my body wants to stay here with him. Not just because I'm absolutely exhausted, but because I want nothing more than to be able to wake up next to him. But I know that I have to be there when my dad wakes up in the morning, and besides, I can't imagine Boone likes women to stay the night.