"I'm not sure you surprise someone by giving them warning in advance, but I appreciate it," I said. "I'd like to learn all of those things." I hated hiding behind the bed, being vulnerable.
"I took forks in there and I didn't even use them." I grimaced.
"What were you going to do?" he asked, the corners of his mouth tilting up. "Stab someone in the ass?"
"Ass, cock, foot." I shrugged. "Any of those would have been effective." Not against someone with a gun. We both knew that. A fork would have been no help at all.
"Yeah, but it wasn't necessary; we took care of them before they got anywhere near you."
"I know, and I appreciate that," I said. "I still don't like feeling helpless."
He placed a hand on my knee. "You won't. But… I don't know how you don't hate me for what happened."
I put my hand over his. "You're going to have to elaborate. A few things have happened between us. Was it the first attempt to kill me? The second? Or something else?"
He smirked. "All of the above. I meant fucking you. I promised I wouldn't do it until I was worthy."
"Maybe you were worthy," I suggested.
He regarded me for a moment. "Maybe," he finally said, reluctant. "Does this mean we can fuck whenever we want to?"
I made a show of thinking about that carefully. "It just might."
He squeezed my knee before turning his hand around and wrapping his fingers around mine. He rose to his feet and pulledme to mine before leading me over to the bedroom Forrest let him use.
This place had several of them. It was the size of a house. A big one. A person could get lost if they tried hard enough.
He glanced back as the man finished installing the new door. Forrest thanked him before closing and locking it behind him. He gave us a long look before Woody closed the bedroom door, shutting us in alone.
"It wasn't that long ago," Woody said slowly, sliding his hands up the front of my shirt, "he wouldn't have let us be alone."
"No, he wouldn't." I gripped the front of his shirt and pulled his mouth to mine. "You would have strangled me."
"No, I wouldn't," he grumbled. "I hate strangling people. It hurts my hands."
"Poor baby," I said with a laugh.
"I'll give you poor fucking baby." He pressed me over to the bed and pushed me down in the middle. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, he pinned them above my head and straddled my hips. He regarded me for a long moment. "I'm not sure Forrest is wrong. I probably shouldn't be alone with you."
"Probably not," I agreed. "Are you going to fuck me or are we going to talk about it?"
"You're going to drive me crazy, woman." He leaned in and ran his tongue up my neck, over my throat, and nibbled at my chin, his stubble rough against my skin.
"Some would suggest it's too late for that," I said with a laugh.
He snorted, "Whoeversomeare, they can get fucked, like you're going to." He pushed his hands back under my shirt, rucking it up to my chest. He kissed his way down to my breasts, his tongue circling my nipple, before he drew it in between his lips and started to suck.
"We agreed it's wrong to want to fuck your former stepmother, didn't we?" he asked between sucks.
"I think we decided it was okay," I said, my back arching to meet his mouth.
I'd never known him as my stepson anyway, so I didn't feel anything weird in us having a relationship. It wasn't as though I raised him or anything. I didn't even know he existed until that relation was severed. To me, he was one of my men. Dare I say, one of my boyfriends?
Let people think it was salacious. The only opinions that mattered were ours.
"That's a bummer," he said, eyeing me sideways. "I was hoping this was naughty."
"If you want to think of it as naughty, go ahead," I said. "Am I supposed to scold you?"
