Talk Dirty to Me. Dakota CassidyЧитать онлайн книгу.
brewing beneath all that sinew.
Her clit throbbed in reaction to the rigid line beneath his trousers, aching with familiar need. Her leg begged her to allow it to wrap around his trim waist.
His hard fingers dug into her flesh, but Dixie didn’t flinch. Instead, she issued what she was sure, if Caine actually decided to take Landon’s offer, would be just one more of her many challenges. “What do you have to say for yourself now, Caine?”
Leaning in farther still, his lips stopped a mere breath from hers, creating an all-over tremble of awareness. The scent of his cologne, sharp and musky, lingered in her nose. “I say you look hot in leather, Dixie. Your ass was the finest in all of Plum Orchard at one time. Maybe even in the entire state of Georgia.” Caine emphasized that point by reaching around her and grabbing a handful of it, kneading it until she thought her lungs had stopped working altogether.
Sliding his free hand along her bare leg, he traced his silken-padded fingers upward until they were under her skirt and had reached the edge of her panties, allowing his knuckles to skim the tender flesh where her leg met the apex of her thighs.
Caine pulled away then, almost garnering a gasp of disappointment from her, only to run his index finger along her cleft, pressing the silk of her underwear against the heat of her achy clit.
Shivers of need, desperate and wanton, made everything else fall away. Though her arms remained at her side, the all-consuming desire to twine them around Caine was a war she fought with steely resolve. He let his silken tongue dab at her lips, before he added, “Know what else I say?”
Her breathing was choppy, there was no hiding it, but she was delighted to find, Caine’s was, too. “What else do you say?”
The delicious movement between her legs stopped as suddenly as it had started. He smirked down at her. “I say you don’t have the guts. That’s what I say.”
Just as Dixie was considering wiping the smirk off Caine’s face with a good right hook, Hank and Em’s footsteps sounded. She pushed at Caine, taking two unsteady steps away from the astounding effect he had on her body, away from the memory.
Em held up the gleaming keys and shook them.
Dixie snatched her set from Em and dangled them in Caine’s direction with quivering fingers, and melting kneecaps. “I’ll see you here tomorrow, Caine Donovan, and we’ll see who has guts. Bring your impersonations. Bring whatever you think will help you win this. Just be sure to bring it, big boy.”
Dixie rounded on her heel with such fluid grace she owed herself a pat on the back for not collapsing. “Good night, Hank. I’ll see you tomorrow at six sharp.” She sashayed out of the office with the invisible words I dare you written all over the back of her suit jacket.
When she reached the top of the stairwell, she had to grasp the banister to keep from pitching forward. The throb in her temple returned, matching the unmerciful throb between her thighs, beat for agonizing beat.
She’d just consented to sell sex over the phone so she could win a new way to make a living, and in order to do it, she’d have to beat Caine Donovan, the one and only man who’d ever made her so insane with primal, wanton need, she would have done anything he asked.
Crazy must have taken a global vacation, but not before making one pit stop in her small town in Georgia.
Em skidded out into the hall, hot on her heels. As she reached the top of the steep steps she panted, “Don’t do it, Dixie! I can barely afford to feed our dog, Dora the Explorer. I don’t know if I can take Mona and Lisa in, too. And seeing as you have nothing left in your 401K, you won’t be leavin’ me anything to help.”
Dixie finally giggled, releasing her nervous tension. “I wasn’t thinking about ending it all. I was just thinking about getting out of that room.”
“Where all that hot man sucks up every last ounce of air? I know. I get it. He’s like a vacuum packer—or at least, when you’re in the room he is.”
“That’s not it either.” The lie fell from her tongue like honey dripping from a bottle. “I was leaving before we ended up thumb wrestling till someone cried ‘uncle.’ You know what we were like, Em—always trying to one-up each other—fight to the death. That was years ago. I’ve grown up. So the last thing I want to do is engage in a pointless ‘he said, she said’ argument. I want to go back to my hotel and mull—plan—plot how in the world I’m going to pull this off.”
Em clucked her tongue. “First, we’re going back to Landon’s so you don’t break the rules he’s set forth and forfeit everything because you can’t resist being difficult. My mama has the boys for the night, and I’m free. I can dine on cold, leftover crab and artichoke dip in Landon’s hot tub, which runs at a warm ninety-eight degrees. And second, remember this—your voice is pretty sexy, Dixie. All raspy and Kathleen Turner-ish. No doubt, you’ve made a million foolish men fall at your feet without ever having seen you. All they needed to do was listen. Bet you could beat the pants off Caine Donovan in a phone-sex-off with a voice like that if you set your mind to it.”
If only his pants were the issue. Anxiety churned in Dixie’s stomach. “But he can create thousands of different personas with his impressions, Em. He can be whoever a woman wants him to be. How can I ever top Sean Connery?”
“I can’t even believe I’m sayin’ this. What do you think the ratio of male/female callers really is? Ignore the story Caine was sellin’ you and focus. You could beat him with your mouth taped shut with those odds. Women might be empowered these days, but the truth is, they don’t have to work as hard as men out in the real world.”
Good point. But... There was still Sam. “Have you heard his Sam Elliott impression?”
Em waffled, probably because she had. And it was a thigh-clencher. Still, she shook a stern finger at her. “Then you’ll just have to work harder.” She paused then, her smile ironic. “Funny, isn’t it? You actually workin’ for what you want instead of everyone doing the work for you? And besides all of the obvious, we don’t even know if Caine’ll take Landon up on this crazy endeavor I’m hereby callin’ ‘Survivor, the Porn Edition.’ So before you even consider feelin’ sorry for yourself, just remember your new mantra—outwit, outlast, outplay.”
Em’s words of encouragement warmed her. True enough. You didn’t become a successful real-estate mogul by taking two months off. “You think?”
Em nodded with a vehement dip of her head. “He has a successful real-estate business back in Miami, Dixie, employees and everything. He can’t just up and leave for a long period of time. So I’d lay bets by tomorrow, he’ll be on a plane back to the Sunshine State. Today was just him blusterin’ like men do when a woman has the nerve to call them on their game.”
Dixie stood rooted to the top of the stairs while the phrase, “What can Mistress Lana do for you tonight, unworthy one?” ran like a stampede of elephants in her brain.
Em roped an arm through Dixie’s. “You’re thinkin’ too much. I can see it. Let’s go to the big house and we’ll talk it over.” She stopped on the step for a moment, turning to Dixie, her eyes clouded with suspicion. “Wait a minute. Did Landon know what was going on with you financially? Did he know you were pushin’ your last dime just to get here to be with him?”
Tears began to flood her eyes again, but this time Dixie didn’t stop them, she let them drip down her face and hit the steel steps. “No,” she whispered. “I could never tell him....”
“Because the first thing he would have done was meddle, and the second would be to set about making the boo-boo all better, and naturally, you have your pride.”
“So you know what happened?” That last bit of her pride floated upward toward the ceiling.
“The grapevine is thicker than ever here, Dixie. Some took great pleasure in it when they read the papers and saw Dixie-Cup had gone belly up. Though I will tell you, I wasn’t one of them. Honest.” Facing