Page 17 of Missile Tow
I knew I should be cautious in a town the size and location of Spokane, but I swore the guy was flirting with me. Perhaps his approach was thatcountry nicething I’d heard of, but there were definitely other suggestive tones in his demeanor.
He turned to look behind him and then from side to side before answering what a Van looked like. “Like a pretty boy,” he said.
His voice wasn’t threatening like calling me a pretty boy was a slur, but his nervous look did seem to ask if he was also pushing too far in a possibly dangerous situation. I watched as he swallowed hard, his pronounced Adam’s apple waking my cock up from its forced slumber.
I cleared my throat and nervously pushed the slot button again. “I’ve been called worse,” I croaked.
“I bet you’ve been paid other nice compliments too.”
“Is ‘pretty’ a nice thing to say about a guy?” I asked, trying to keep my body language masculine in case I was misreading him.
He shifted in his chair, once again looking around carefully, seeming uncertain about what we were doing in our dance of discovery.
Marlboro Man bit his lower lip. “I’m blowing it, aren’t I?”
Bingo!He was flirting with me. “Depends on what you’re trying to accomplish, Dirk,” I replied. “I could guess, but honestly, I’m a bit worried about being in Spokane and how I might be perceived.”
“I’d like to buy your next Stella,” he blurted. “If you’ll let me.”
“I haven’t had dinner yet, so that could be a mistake,” I teased, this time letting him know I understoodexactlywhat he wanted.
I’d been celibate for a year and was as horny as a three-peckered goat, so this guy, a man right out of my journey’s‘hunky man search’ script, was right up my alley. Was a one-night stand on the first night of my trip about to happen? Or had a possible husband candidate crossed my path already? I mean, thiswascowboy country. Plus, he wore the prerequisite Wranglers and cowboy boots, so yes, the universe actually could be speaking to me.
“Dinner is overrated,” he stated, holding his nearly empty bottle to me. “And men who look like you seldom show up in this town.”
Flattery could get this man anything he wanted. I hadn’t felt the rush of someone desiring me in such a long time that I was losing my cautious inhibitions. I was safe, wasn’t I? A big casino. A million cameras were recording our every movement. He’d checked into a room like I had. They had his name. He wouldn’t murder me, would he?
And frankly, I felt good hearing his words. The way he looked at me made me feel like I wasn’t the guy who gets dumped for better-looking options. He didn’t know my life story, and he saw me with fresh eyes that said he approved and appreciated what he was looking at. I decided to go for it.
“Are you winning?” I asked, tapping the side of his slot machine.
“Nope. Not with the gambling, but I’m not sure about with you,” he said, raising his brows. “I sure hope I am.”
“Like you said, dinner is overrated.”
“And Iamjust across the hall from your room,” he added. “I mean, we could have dinner after a room tour.”
“A sort of, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine, type of thing?” I asked, pulling out the best flirtation I could muster.
Marlboro Man stood up, cashed out, and began walking away. At first, I was confused until he stopped without looking back. I quickly joined him in the middle of the gaming floor.
“What took you so long?” he asked, leaning into my ear. The scent of Polo cologne hit my nose. IknewI’d recognized the scent. Polo was masculine, timeless, a classic male scent that fit him perfectly.
“I had a Stella to finish,” I replied, noticing as I stood beside him that he was much larger than I was.
I wasn’t small at six feet tall and one hundred and sixty pounds of lean muscle, but he had, at minimum, another four inches of height and forty plus pounds over me. Like I said, he was thick and husky. A real man’s man.
We stood inside the door of his room. He gently shut the door and turned to me, grinning. Fear gripped my heart, and a palpable rush of adrenaline coursed through my body. He was handsome and rugged. His size intimidated me, but a kind expression soothed most of my fears. He appeared nervous. An unexpected surprise.
“I don’t do this often,” he whispered.
“I haven’t had sex in a year,” I confessed.
He stepped closer, and his hand reached for my chin. The moment his left hand illuminated under the hallway light, I saw the white strip on his skin. The flesh where a ring normally was, was three shades paler than the rest of his hand. I hadn’t noticed he was married in the dim casino lighting.
I grabbed his hand and moved it six inches from my face. He immediately recognized that I recognized the ring finger tan line and jerked his hand back in guilt. The look on his face revealed what I instantly assumed.
“Darn,” I whispered.
