Page 11 of The Enforcer’s Obssession

The harsh shrill of Rowdy’s phone alarm blares to life on the nightstand behind him. The sound shatters the quietness of the room like a brick being thrown through a window. The noise makes Rowdy flinch, and his hand slips away from my breast as he groans out an angry, violent curse, reaching to slam his palm down on the screen to kill the noise. I whimper, the sound tearing from my throat before I can stop it. A needy, desperate, pathetic moan at the sudden loss of his touch.

Rowdy freezes.

His breathing turns rugged. My head tilts to the side. He’s looking down at me, his eyes ablaze with a sudden, scorching intensity that burns through me. The alarm is gone, but in its place is an air that’s thicker than ever.

“Christ, sunshine,” he rasps, his voice low, rough, and completely stripped of control. He doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t get out of bed. “Fuck it,” he growls, and before I can draw another breath, Rowdy hooks his leg over mine, shifting my hips while shoving his hand further beneath my waistband. He doesn’t waste a single second with soft touches or promises. He presses his broad palm against my mound, his long, thick fingers slide between the lips of my pussy, and two thick fingers dive straight inside me.

“Rowdy…” A breathless gasp is ripped from my lungs as he works his fingers into my wet heat.

“Take it, Jett,” he demands into my ear, his hips pressing his hard dick against my ass while his fingers begin a fast, merciless in-and-out motion. “You want this, I want this, and I’m going to be the one to make you come all over my hand.” He flexes his wrist. His thumb curls to press firmly against my swollen clit while his fingers work me up. Jesus, the man knows exactly the right spot when he makes that come-hither motion that makes my whole body go taut.

It’s too much yet not enough.

The contrast between his speed and the desperate ache I’ve been carrying all night brings me straight to the edge entirely too fast.

“Rowdy, please,” I sob. My hands reach to grip his forearm, my knuckles turning white as I cling to him.

“Look how wet you are for me,” he growls against my ear. His strokes turn faster, deeper with preciseness. “I can feel you dripping. What I wouldn’t give to have my head buried between your thighs right about now.” His thumb circles my clit, his fingers working hot and heavy as the noise from our breathing and how he’s working my body echoes in the room. My body arches and my thighs tremble. The build-up is fast, hot, and completely out of my control.

“Rowdy!” His name comes out in loud cry.

“Come for me, Jett,” he orders. His lips are pressed against my skin, his teeth nipping when he says, “Do it.”

I shatter, when a blinding orgasm is ripped through my lower body, the walls of my pussy clamping tightly around his fingers. A loud, helpless moan is torn from me as pleasure crashes over me. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything except ride out the wave of desire. Through it all, my hips rock and Rowdy keeps his fingers buried deep inside me, pressing me, and when he lets out a groan of his own, I feel more than I see.

“Sunshine,” he utters. His cock pulses at my ass, and wetness seeps through the back of my shorts. I wiggle, pushing him more. I did that. I made Rowdy Bouchard come in his sleep shorts while finger-fucking me. And when his body relaxes, holding me close, his chest heaving against my back, I know this is far from over.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He slips his wet fingers out of me and rests his palm on my hip as I lie here. I swear I’m on the verge of tears from sensory overload. He presses a soft kiss to the warm skin behind my ear, his breath doing nothing to calm the raging inferno inside me.

“Morning, Rowdy.” He’s completely destroyed me in the best way possible. And now I’m torn about what to do next: do I roll over, climb on top of him, and beg for more, or do I erect my professional walls again?

“Quit overthinking. This is happening, whether you like it or not,” he answers my internal struggle. The only problem I have now is, what will happen when Mitch finds out?

NINE

JETT

Between the energy inside the arena and what’s thrumming through my body after the morning we had, I’m not sure how I’m able to function. Every time I close my eyes, I can still feel Rowdy’s thick fingers inside me, his breath hot against my neck, and his deep voice demanding me to give in to him. Of course, after the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life, Rowdy would have little to no time to do much else besides eat, shower, and leave for the rink. Which left me in limbo and my mind spinning in circles.

I shake myself out of my Rowdy-induced stupor, for now.

“You look like you’re a million miles away.” Mischa stands near me in the back of the suite. She has a glass of sparkling water in her hand and a sly look on her face.

“Because I am.” I don’t lie, not to one of my close girlfriends. There’s no use, she can see my emotions from a mile away.

“Then stand next to me, and we can commiserate together.” She has the hots for her brother’s best friend, Nolan. He’s also her boss, but anytime the two of them are near one another, you can feel the flames licking at their heels, ready to combust. I don’t know why they don’t just give in. Then again, I’m breaking my own rules, which could be a career ender—Mischa’s could mean Nolan losing his best friend and her brother.

“No kidding. Thanks for hooking us up with the suite.” I look across the lavish area. Mitch really pulled through on this being a perk of being Rowdy’s social media content creator. My friends are thoroughly enjoying the digs, and I’m glad for it.

Gavin and Gennie are practically glued at the hip on the oversized leather sofa in the center of the room. They’re whispering and cuddling like the outside world doesn’t exist. Dante and Alex are off in a corner near the catered buffet, deep in conversation. They’re murmuring to one another, drowned out by the noise from the arena below us.

“No problem. Kind of stinks the others couldn’t make it,” I say to Mischa. Dom and Cory had an engagement to attend for work. Vik is at home with Romy and her ever-growing belly as she’s getting late into her third trimester. Apparently, the Viking of a man is becoming ultra protective and wants his woman close to home and the hospital.

“It does, but you know how it goes.” There’s a forlornness to her tone of voice, one I’m coming to understand quite well. It’s not like I can shout out to the world that I’m falling desperately for the Lonestars’ enforcer, not without certain repercussions.

“I do, and I’m glad to see you all when I can. I love my job, but, man, the traveling can be intense, and having no true homebase, well, it can be tiring,” I admit for the first time to myself and aloud.

“There’s always Seattle, but something tells me Texas might be calling your name.” Leave it to Mischa to read between the lines and come to the conclusion without me having to divulge all of my secrets.